Sacrificial Lamb Pt 01

Hemma blinked in the bright sunlight as she exited her tiny cabin. The ship's rocking in the port was made worse by the cold weather and breaking waves, and Hemma looked eagerly toward the island ahead of her, where she would make her new home. Though called the Village of the Gods, the town before her was expansive, reaching from shore to shore as far as she could see. The buildings were made of beautifully hewn stone and stood two, even three stories high, but towering above them all stood the three temples. Most inland villages hosted only one temple, the temple of their favored god or goddess. But the Village of the Gods held many temples and three of the largest now loomed over the largest town Hemma had even seen.

Hemma had shared a few letters with her betrothed and knew he came from a wealthy merchant family who provided wine to many of the islands and coastal mainland. Her family had been thrilled to receive the inquiry from the Village of the Gods. Her home village was quite small, with few suitors who were not already married, so her father had announced her coming out via temple messenger to the larger surrounding towns. When the Huber family responded with news of a son not yet wedded and set to inherit a large portion of the family land, Hemma's father approved of the union. The letters had been exchanged over the past year, encouraging Hemma to believe that she was about to meet a man of eloquent speech, kind intentions, and she didn't hate the thickly laid flattery. She tried to keep her expectations realistic, knowing the letters might not have even been written by her betrothed, but she couldn't help but hope the image she had created of this romantic and caring young man was an accurate one.

The vineyards lay on the far side of the island, where cliffs made the docking of ships nearly impossible. Because of this, arrival at the main port was safer. Hemma made her way to the dock, and was quickly approached by a young woman about her own age.

"Lady Hemma? Of family Locksmead?"

"Yes, that's me," Hemma replied, wobbling a little bit on the steady surface. Her head started to clear almost immediately after she stepped off the ship. She would not miss the nauseating feeling of the rocking vessel.

"Oh it's so great to meet you Hemma! And you're so pretty! I didn't know your hair would be such a wonderful color! My name is Ospree, not near as pretty as Hemma. How was your trip? Did you travel ok? I haven't traveled across the sea myself but I hear it can be just dreadful...." Ospree rattled off as she picked up Hemmas small bags and started walking toward town. Hemma couldn't help but smile at the short woman's bubbly chatter, feeling no need to interrupt the train of thoughts and seemingly rhetorical questions. She followed the talkative woman for a short while, until they came to an inn in town.

"Did you hear me, Hemma?" Hemma almost ran into Ospree who had stopped just inside the entrance of the inn and turned to face her. She reluctantly took her eyes off the intricate patterns and sconcase carved into the massive stone that framed the entryway.

"Sorry, I got distracted by the... What did you say?"

"We will stop here for the night for the festival. No one can leave the city before the draw, which won't happen until after dark, but we will leave for the estate in the morning."

"Oh, what festival? I didn't know there was a holiday?"

"Well it's not really a holiday, but one of the three demands sacrifice once a year for good harvest, just rule, and continued fertility. It's really not a big deal, and we don't have anything to worry about. It's more tradition than anything else. Most sacrifices return within the week and a woman has never been chosen, though we are all required to participate." Hemma felt very confused. She had never heard of such a festival. Yes, some gods required sacrifices, she was used to that, but this sounded like more than just a sheep or first harvest. Sensing her concern, Ospree smiled gently and touched Hemma's arm. "Really, there is no need to worry," Ospree assured. "There are many traditions you have yet to learn. Why don't we rest, clean up, and I will explain everything over dinner."

Hemma smiled back timidly and nodded, and Ospree lead the way to their room. As Hemma looked through her bags for a clean dress Ospree called for a bath to be drawn. "Clean yourself and relax for a little while," Ospree said, heading to the door. "I have to run an errand but I will be back in an hour." Right as she slipped out, five maids brought in steaming water to fill the soaking tub in the corner of the room.

After everyone was gone, Hemma took a real look around. The place was incredible, with smooth stone walls and warm wooden floors covered in furs. Everywhere she looked, intricate carvings depicted the many stories of the gods, hunting parties, miracles, and disasters. She slipped out of her shoes and let her sore feet sink into the furs. Pulling off the rest of her clothes, Hemma walked to the tub and saw oils and soaps on a table nearby. Stepping in the steaming water, she let out a hiss as the water was a little too hot in the best way. She slowly sat down and spread out in the oil scented water, letting the bath relax her travel worn body. She closed her eyes and laughed to herself as she remembered what Ospree has said, "relax." Well, I know one way to relax, Hemma smirked. Her arms floated at the surface of the water, feeling weightless. She slowed her breath and focused on the feel of the water on her body. Hemma was no stranger to taking care of herself, even if she had never had a husband. It was hard to remain too innocent when the temple priestess regularly hosted orgies in the village center back home. Her village had a large temple dedicated to the goddess of love, marriage, and family. While most of the year meant spending inordinate amounts of time serving family members with chores, gifts, and acts of kindness, every solstice celebrated the union of man and woman, which the priestesses celebrated publicly and loudly. The children were strictly prohibited from attending these celebrations but that only made it all the more fun to sneak a peek. As an unmarried woman, Hemma's parents had tried their best to keep her innocent, and in one way they had, but with this union to her betrothed, that would soon change as well.

Hemma's nipples hardened, peaking just out of the water, made all the more sensitive as the cool air in the room brushed against her wet skin. The sharp contrast sent a thrill straight to her core, begging for more. And who am I to deny such a request? Hemma laughed to herself once again, followed by a quick intake of breath as her hands found their way to the sides of her breasts and down her ribs. She went slowly, feeling each rib as she made her way down and back up to cup the undersides of her breasts, lightly running her thumbs over her pebbled nipples. The shock of sensation spread down each limb. After a moment of gently massaging her breasts, her fingers trailed down the soft flesh of her stomach, to the top of her pubic mound. She traced the line of hair, spreading her legs to follow the path all the way around the apex of her thighs and meeting at the bottom of her labia. Gently touching her outer lips she made her way up and back down, just missing her center. On her way back up the second time, she dipped a finder into the wetness that had gathered there and pulled it up to her clit, finally giving herself the relief that she craved.

She gasped as she lightly rubbed her clit in small circles. Her other hand went back up to her breasts to play with her sensitive nipples, causing something deep inside her to tighten and clench. She started to go faster, feeling it build and build until nothing else in the room mattered, not even the water that splashed onto the floor or the fact that the window was still open. Her center tightened until finally she crested, reaching the peak and crashing back down. She pulsed with pleasure, drawing out her orgasm by continuing her ministrations until finally she came down, resting her head back against the tub and letting her body float in the water, motionless. Revealing in the afterglow of her climax.

As she floated there her mind began to wander. Would her husband make her feel like this? Or would he chase only his own pleasure? Hemma had heard her friends talk about their own marriages. While her village tried to allow their children to marry for love, the world they lived in was not always so lenient, and bargains were often struck and strategic moves made, and daughters were told to make the best of their situations. She had heard of more than one marriage that resulted in lackluster unions. Husbands who bedded their wives out of duty and with no regard to her own pleasure. Men who forced their own preferences onto their women as if they were their property to do with as they pleased. But Hemma had hope.

Hemma always knew she would be sent away when a suitable match was found. She also knew that her parents had tried their best to find a man who she could love. They had turned down multiple suitors who passed through their village over the years, finding some fault in personality or status. But Hemma was already well past the age to be married off, at 25, and her mother started to worry that her father would never find her a suitable husband. While not overly wealthy, their family held the highest status in the village apart from those in the temples, and the opportunity to send their oldest daughter off to the Village of the Gods was just too good to pass up. Not only would it please their temple elders, but it would also solidify their status as the main trade route from the islands to the rest of Frisia. They took a year to make sure the family was well respected and as integral in trade as they claimed to be, and when it was all confirmed the marriage was dyed-in-the-wool.

The water had cooled and Hemma's fingers had started to prune, so she stepped out of the water and wrapped herself in the fluffiest blanket she could find. The cool weather had lasted far longer this year than any farmer was comfortable with. Hemma walked over to the window to shut out the icy breeze.

"Good news my dear Hemma!!" exclaimed a jubilant Ospree, making Hemma jump and whirl toward the now open door. Unfazed, Ospree ushered in a handful of attendants who brought in piles of cloth, shoes, and amorphous bags which Hemma could only guess the contents of. "The seamstress was right on time with the order! And I have the perfect dress picked out for tonight! You are going to look just lovely! What I wouldn't give to have a wardrobe as wonderful as this one!"

Task complete, the attendants made their way out of the room. One seemed to notice that Hemma stood there in nothing but a blanket and gave her an unpleasantly hungry once-over. Hemma glared at the man, squaring her shoulders and daring him to make a move. The look in her eye must have had the intimidation intended as the attendant quickly looked away, face red, and walked swiftly out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Ospree, what is all of this?" asked Hemma, slightly bewildered by the piles of fabric now stacked across the bed.

"Oh not to worry one bit, dear. Lord Huber just wanted to make sure you had plenty of clothes once you arrived. They rarely make it into town and the closest seamstress is a day's ride. Not the dress for tonight..." Ospree dug through the mountain of clothes and pulled out a velvet green dress with long sleeves and a tall collar. She then stripped Hemma of her blanket before she could protest and placed the dress over her head fastening the front and back. Upon closer inspection, Hemma saw that the neck line actually dipped quite low, to right below her breasts, and was clasped closed with a single clasp at the top of her neck, below the collar. It was almost too revealing for Hemma, but Ospree them placed a fur over her shoulders and handed her a pair of leather laced boots.

Stepping back Ospree looked her over. "A vision, my lady."

...

Hemma and Ospree ate dinner together in the tavern below. The space was large and quite full, with raucous laughter and drink being spilled.

"Is it always like this?" Hemma asked, looking around the room.

"Like what, my dear?"

"Like... this. So crowded, and loud."

"On festival nights certainly! But the town is always busy it seems. The estate is much morse civilized," Ospree laughed. Hemma couldn't help but be affected by her good mood and laughed along. She decided she liked this young woman and that she would be a good friend to hold on to. She helped her not feel so nervous or anxious even though everything around her was new and uncertain.

"Now, about the draw," said Ospree, drawing her attention again. "It is really very simple. We will walk out to the square and join the line to draw our stone. The priests make it sound very ominous, saying things about fate and judgment, but I think that is mostly just to scare the crowd. There are 500 white stones and one black stone in a pot. Everyone takes a turn taking stones until someone pulls the black stone. The person who draws the black stone is taken into the temple to face judgment as a sacrifice. Like I said, almost everyone so far has returned within the week, sworn to silence and seemingly better from whatever their experience was. And we are pretty sure the whole thing is rigged because for the 300 years the temple has stood, not a single woman has drawn the black stone." At this point Ospree made a show of glancing around and then leaning forward to whisper, "the rumor is that the priests just pick whoever they don't like, lock them in a basement, and blackmail them to give their money to the temple." At that, they both laughed and sat back to finish their meal.

Not five minutes later, a man wearing leather armor and holding a battle ax drunkenly crashed through the doorway and yelled, "IF YE BE UPRIGHT, MAY YE BE JUDGED RIGHTLY! IF YE BE WICKED, MAY YE BE JUDGED JUSTLY!" A roar of cheers filled the hall and everyone downed the last of their ales, before making their way to the square.

...

By the time Ospree and Hemma reached the front of the line, half of the stones had been taken and Hemma could no longer feel her toes as snow began to drift down onto the crowd. Ospree stepped up to the stone platform where three priests stood around a large clay pot with a narrow neck. "Stand before Fosta, god of tides and judgment, and face your fate!" stated one of the priests as Ospree reached into the pot and pulled out a stone. Opening her fist, a white stone was revealed. Ospree looked back as Hemma with a wink and stepped off the platform and to the side to wait for her charge. Hemma stepped up to the platform. "Stand before Fosta, god of tides and judgment, and face your fate," the priest stated once more, looking into the crowd, distracted and apparently bored. Aware of the eyes on her, Hemma reached a shaking hand into the pot. Reaching down to her elbow, her hand disappeared into the pot when she felt her hand collide with the pile of small stones. She wrapped her fingers around a stone and suddenly felt the air shift. It was hardly perceptible, but the hair on her neck rose and the smell of static and lightning filled her nostrils. Hemma pulled out her hand out of the pot and turned over a spread hand to reveal a black rock.

Hemma froze, confused. No one else seemed to notice until the man behind her bumped into her back, not paying attention. His grunt seemed to reign in the attention of the priests who stared wide eyed at her hand, having to do a double take to comprehend what they saw. They were suddenly looking at her very intently, studying her face, her body, her hand again. One priest reached as if to take the stone from her, but the other stopped him, grabbing his wrist quickly and whispering frantically, "It isn't done!" The third priest turned to the crowd and shouted for quiet. "THE SACRIFICE HAS BEEN CHOSEN! PRAISE BE TO THE LORD OF THE JUST AND THE GOD OF CONSEQUENCES! PRAISE BE FOSTA!"

"PRAISE BE FOSTA!" the crowd repeated in a roar. But the roar of the crowd wasn't as loud as the roar in Hemma's ears as she finally started to understand what had happened. She dropped the stone like it had suddenly burned here and stepped back, right into the arms of two guards who now stood behind her on either side. She looked up at them in horror as they took her arms and pulled her toward the temple in front of her, past the platform and stones. The feel of their rough hands finally brought back her voice as she tried to tell them that they had made a mistake, she had just arrived, this wasn't even her town, she was a woman! Her pleas fell onto deaf ears as she was dragged into the temple, followed by the priests. She vaguely heard Ospree shouting after them, skiing what was wrong, what happened, where are taking her? But the doors to the temple shut with a shuddering boom and there was silence.

The priests surrounded her then spoke all at once.

"Who are you?" "What have you done?" "This isn't possible!" "It's never happened before!" "Just because it hasn't happened before doesn't mean it can't happen now." "But why now?" "Why her?" "Has something changed?" "Did we do something wrong?" "No! The stones chose her, and therefore it is her! We have no right to question the fates!" "So be it." "It is done."

With that, one of the priests made a motion, clearly frustrated, and she was pulled away, frozen and speechless. What is going on?

...

Hemma now stood blushing in a bathhouse, naked and shivering. A swarm of women had stripped her of her clothing, washed her so roughly she felt raw all over, and dried her off with clothes that felt like sandpaper. She now waited for her next instruction, with nowhere to go and the two guards still standing close at her back. One of the older women returned with her velvet dress and shoved it into her arms.

"We don' have sacrificial clothes for a lady, this'll have to do."

Hemma stepped back into her dress and fastened the back, only to find that the front clasp had been snapped in her rough handling at the start of the bath ordeal. The dress now hung open, revealing an ample amount of cleavage, if you could call it cleavage with her small widely set breasts. Hemma quickly reached up to hold the top together with her hands, blushing even redder than before.

Her guards then lead her to an adjoining room where she was met with a scene she did not like at all. The walls were covered in shackles, ropes, chains, and many other implements used to restrain a person. She was dragged to the center of the small room as her struggle renewed. She fought as hard as she could, but even her tall stature was no match for the two giants who held her now. Kicking, screaming, and punching seemed to not even register and she was subdued easily. Tears streaming down her freshly scrubbed face stung her raw skin as her arms were forced behind her and tied together with rope at the wrist and elbow. Her dress fell open without the front clasp, revealing all of her cleavage, just barely covering her nipples that were made hard by the cold air seeping through the stone walls. A piece of cloth was also shoved into her mouth as another piece was tied around her head to secure it in place. Her screams now sounded even more hopeless, muffled and barely audible.

Seemingly happy with their work, though their faces remained stoic, Hemma was moved through another door, though a temple space, and out a door, into a small, walled courtyard. At the center of the courtyard stood a leafless tree with limbs already collecting snow from the now steady downpour of flakes. Now without shoes, Hemma's feet were immediately numb. Around the courtyard stood at least two dozen priests and priestesses. Hemma was led to the tree where rope was used to tie her bound arms to the tree at her back, and her legs were also bound to either side of the trunk. Once adequately restrained, the guards finally let go, and Hemma knew there would be bruises left behind.