The Council was called to the secret site. Fourteen silent, floating figures glided through the murky fog of night. Red mantles covered their naked limbs; porcelain masks covered all except peepholes for their eyes and their ruby red lips of sin.
Each mask had it's own identifying symbol of torture, they all knew who each other were, what their duties would include this night, it was agreed upon long ago when all were sworn to secrecy and protection, to die before revealing a name, a clue, or an image of who each other were.
No light shone through the tress, it was dark, pitch black, the moon and stars were hidden behind the enveloping secrecy of the night's work ahead. It mattered not for the 14 symbols of visions and fantasies foretold, for they all new the way, for if not by heart then by the struggling heard in the distance.
The clearing was eerie in its setting, just the way they liked it. The wind howled around the figure strapped to the cold hard marble stone and fog rolled around his thrashing form. It was their spot, the spot where men were broken. Bigger, better and stronger men than the man who laid before them as a sacrifice for all that would cum.
The chanting began slow and silent, it started first in their hearts and then in their minds until the humming was heard by the victim. His eyes rolled madly in terror as the chanting got louder and louder until the figures began to writhe uncontrollably in dance and formation.
They broke into pairs and began to tear each others mantles from their bodies. Their nakedness the only light surrounding the stone. The glow of lust illuminating from the centre of their beings, shining and blinding the stunned man who watched in fear.
The man's naked figure began to stir, his fear still evident, his arousal prominent, as the dance began in full. Two women walk before the figure, strutting and posing; another two move in, offering each other's breasts to the victim's mouth only to pull back and laugh cruelly when his tongue laps out to taste at puckered tips.
Another couple kneel down beside his head, they whisper into his ears, he strains to concentrate, to hear what the words being whispered are, the chanting is so loud and erotic that he can't be sure what he is hearing. The erotic words he hears hardens an already stiff shaft.
Two more women climb the platform dancing to each other's tune, hands touching, groping, fondling each other, crying out and moaning in pleasure.
Four pairs of hands travel up the dancer's legs, caressing gently, offering and lovingly worshiping the Pagan beings standing before them. Fingers slip higher and higher up the long legs, automatically the dancers spread their thighs and fingers dip into their warmth and wetness.
Two pairs of hands run fingers over the lips of the victim's mouth. He puts his tongue out to lick them, draw them in and taste them.
The crack of a whip slices through the night, the man shrieks in pain as his thighs are punished, but he holds still.
The women laugh and lick their fingers slowly drawing them in and out savouring the fruity freshness of the dancer's juices.
One woman is selected to kneel over the man's face and as he gazes up into the naked pink folds of her dripping pussy, women dance around her.
Her head is thrown back, hands are everywhere, inside her, on her breasts, pulling her hair back, tongues mingle, breasts strain, nipples get sucked, her breasts are full, she shakes uncontrollably. The kneeling woman begins to shake uncontrollably, as hands play at her fresh lively body.
Someone swirls her clit with a long insistent finger, the victim strains upward to get a taste. Someone's whip cracks onto him again and he yells out in denial. She cums at the sound of leather cracking on skin, squirting all over his face. Milky white cream that flows over his lips, chin, throat, cheeks and chest, his tongue comes out and he's punished again.
She's dragged from his body and the fourteen women begin to lick his face clean, one lick per woman. Each strokes over a cheek, a chin, a throat, a chest, anywhere but on the lips.
Fingers start to stroke his arms, legs, chest, and face. His penis grows larger by the minute, which is another spot not to be touched and is left to strain in the night.
The women lick with long hard strokes, one smooth hard-pressured movement, never more and never less than the full-length of her tongue. A drop of jism glistens on the head of his penis, it's noticed by the women and they all pull back in one careless movement.
A voice is heard to yell accusingly "You Will Not Cum"
He's shocked as he stares at the women around him, his fear beginning to take over the pleasure of moments before. He tries to laugh it off and realizes to late that he doesn't know these women at all and he is their sacrifice, a sacrifice he knows he will regret being, but cant help but to await.
He looks to the narrow slits in the masks and the demonic grins hiding behind the surreal painted red lips and gulps back at his foolishness in enjoying the moment.
