Whispered Rites of Sacrifice

Part two: A Night's Reprieve

At the faintest melodic note in her rapturous gasping, a scurry of feet surrounded Isana and the twins. She felt the meat of fruit pressed to her lips again, quickly followed by another pearl-drop candy. For the first time she noticed the sudden warmth that flared within her as the sugar-like seed dissolved on her tongue. The state of her arousal blossomed quite rapidly and Isana realized that the seeds were strong aphrodisiacs. All this while she had been partaking from nature's apothecary and the result was more than likely a chemically enhanced willingness to participate in the Florynias.

Rather than feel betrayed or violated at this notion, Isana hoped that Eulos too had been continually taking the seeds, that his own pleasure was building and that perhaps he had found release in an Actovan woman's arms. Or an Actovan man's. This latter idea amused Isana and she giggled silently. To imagine the broad, muscular chest of Eulos covered in sweat as he wrestled with another man, their grunts more like baritone harmony than aggression. Yes, this Isana wished very much to see.

Flights of fancy scattered away like a flock of birds bursting from a tree top as Strom and Lybon's attentions returned to her. Still trapped in a black void, within a world of her own making, she visualized the twins as her fantasies longed them to look. Both had the creamy skin of the Actovans, their long, sleek hair tinted blue and green as was the fashion among many young Actovan nobles. She had indeed felt the lengths of their hair brush over her bare skin like feathers titillating her flesh.

Laid back now against Strom's broad, finely muscled chest, one arm encircling her waist to brace her, Isana was plunged again into ecstasy. The whispers of their audience had become more and more noticeable to her, but rather than shying from this voyeurism, the queen to be began to delight in imagining the hundreds of eyes fixated upon her and her two lovers. She envisioned them staring with lustful eyes and wagging tongues. In the shadows she imagined lovers pleasuring one another while watching the twins pleasure her. Isana imagined men and women pleasuring themselves as Lybon braced one knee on the chaise and lovingly lifted her leg to hook it over his hip. She imagined their engaged audience gasping with rapture as he slid closer and entered her.

Lybon's movements were fluid with grace and painstakingly slow. Were she able to see him, Isana would have seen the taut rippling of his muscles as he masterfully controlled his every movement. Resting back against the lounging Strom, Isana was held secure, but Strom was not leaving all the fun to his brother. As Lybon pushed into her with torturous delicacy, Strom was suckling on Isana's neck, on her ear lobe and his free hand was teasing and strumming upon her right breast. The left breast was raised and taken into Lybon's mouth as his hips began to undulate against hers. The sinewy length of him seemed impossibly long as he glided the shaft into her until his own thatchy curls entangled with hers. The extraction was no less meticulous. It was not until he began to quicken his thrust while keeping his retraction diminished that Isana's arms raised to lock about Strom's neck, bracing herself against the rising tide of euphoria.

Like the anticipatory beat of a drum, Lybon's rolling hips hooked his spear upward impaling her in a lover's death. In the same soothing then dominating dance of the ocean, the wave of his passion drew away with a lingering caress only to crash into her again with increasing force. Behind her, pressing against the small of her back, Isana could feel his brother's iron-hard tumescence beating out it's own faint rhythm as it pulsed against her. A quickening of energy spasmed within her and Isana felt Lybon drive in, halting his careful assault to burrow deeply. Unable to fathom he could go deeper, Isana gasped as the firm thrust melted into pliant massage, his reach so deep within as to touch her in a place never yet found. At last he filled her, the young man's virile form shuddering in release before bowing over her and claiming her mouth in a kiss to lessen the trauma of his withdraw.

Nary a breath passed between she and Lybon before she felt Strom's bulging arm lift her upward. The elder of the twins did not join with her as tenderly or reverently as his younger brother. Although by no means was his entry a violation or an assault, it was firm, demanding and inarguable. One arm wrapped about her hugged her waist and gripped her hip, the other beneath her arm across her breast to grip her shoulder. Locked into his embrace as such she was immobile and could do little more than hold tightly about his neck as Strom's hips rose and fell with burly strength.

Save for Lybon's hand on her thigh, she had thought him gone. Then he too began to assault her with more dominance and hunger. Her breasts were devoured like sugar cakes, Lybon's tongue and teeth working desperately to consume them, to dissolve both plump little bon-bons. Electricity suddenly shot through her as his free hand slipped down to fondle her delicate bud. Neither brother gave pause or reprieve until finally her back arched, her entire body quaking as her vocal chords strained to scream aloud. Strom held her firm as he spilled into her, filling her belly with hot lava until his own convulsions calmed and her glorious waves of splendor wafted away on a sigh.

The three lay upon the chaise, Lybon resting his cheek upon Isana's breast to hear the thundering gallop of her heart. Their breathing matched in deep exhilarated gasps, catching when Isana's body shivered in a lingering wave of ecstasy. This moment of bonded bliss was all too brief as the whispers of the on-lookers returned as did the scurry of small feet. The solid slap of sandals approached as Strom and Lybon extracted themselves from Isana's embrace.

"Goddess bless your seed," she whispered as each bent to kiss her.

"She would bless us most if it took purchase in you, my lady," Lybon whispered.

In a breath, both men were gone and Isana felt the sensuous stroking of fluttering hands as she was bathed yet again. Draped upon the chaise, the very image of female perfection as painted by the Castacean Masters, Isana prayed that the Goddess Florynia had been appeased, as she doubted she could manage any more. Although he first 'sacrifice' had been rough and impersonal, the twins had carried her idea of sexuality to an higher echelon.

"Fair thee well, Lady Isana?" the old monk's voice inquired.

"Yes...very well," she whispered in reply.

Although she could not see him, Isana felt certain he was nodding. "Good," he warbled happily. "As per tradition, the chaise will now be carried into the temple grotto. It is a veiled and guarded room."

"I can remove the blindfold and chain then--" Isana moved to sit up. A hand caught hers.

"No," Raine's voice replied sternly. "You will be told when it is appropriate to do so."

Slightly concerned by this, Isana could make no protest. To do so now would undermine all she had already done to make a show of her willingness for compromise. Apprehensive as she was, she nodded then held the sides of the chaise as it was suddenly lifted from the floor and carried. The distance did not seem too terribly long but it occurred to her when absolute silence suddenly fell around her that Eulos was no longer present to protect her, to watch over her. Now fear crept into her heart and she reflexively reached for the blindfold. Again a hand stilled her own.

"Not yet..." a man's voice whispered. It was firm, but neither cruel nor bearing insult. Still she was stunned at his presence, having been certain she was alone.

Isana listened for a long time but heard nothing. He barely seemed to be breathing. There was no movement, no other whispers. After a moment, her fear bubbling out of her, Isana inquired, "are you a special choice? The most revered of those who tithed...? I do not understand what is to happen now."

The man gave no answer. Isana swore she could feel the heat and energy of his hands hovering over her flesh, but never once did she feel his touch. Rich scents of spices and the wooded, earthy fragrance of cypress pines danced into her nostrils with every breath. Masculinity lay within the undertones, neither dominating nor supplicant. The proximity of him built a sensual tension until she felt that her every breath was of his exhaled air, that the space around her was inhabited by him and their energies mingled to fill it.

Hot crimson bloomed across her cheeks as she realized that the man was affecting her so strongly with little more than his scent and nearness, that even ignorant to his appearance she was deeply aroused. Fire was building in her loins even as she could tell that moisture was collecting there.

Suddenly a faint touch, his fingertips dragging with a butterfly's grace just over her lips. And then it was gone. He was gone.

Isana was assailed by a flurry of servants then. Her body was being massaged from all sides by small, conscious hands. Then to her surprise, her knees were parted and a cushion was slipped beneath her hips. The ooze of warm oil dribbled onto her most private flesh finding its way in rivulets between her labia, along the tendons of her inner thigh, then as her pelvic bone was directed to tilt upward, she felt the oil glide down toward her anus. With a gasp she froze up, knowing it was all women around her now, she wasn't sure what to think, then a voice assured her, "you'll want to remain still for this, my lady. I promise I am skilled and it shall not hurt."

The first swipe of the straight razor halted Isana's breath and she fought not to tremble as she felt it curving over her vulva as if shaping it from clay, or carving it from rendered animal fat to adorn a King's feast table. Although this last comparison, she amused herself, was not far from true. When the razor had graced parts of her skin never touched by any other human's hands, not since she ceased to wear sanitary rags as a babe, cool water was poured over her flesh and trickled musically into a bowl someone had positioned just beneath her buttocks.

One set of hands methodically pat her skin dry as others began drawing off her blindfold and releasing her shackle. Fingers grasped at her wrists and hips, the young nymphs drawing her to her feet, draping her in fabric then guiding her down a hall into a broad, circular room. A pile of furs was amassed on the floor along with pillows as a luxurious bed. Another chaise was positioned at a far corner beside which was a deep set oval bath. Isana could see steam rising from its surface and smell the extravagant oils steeping in it.

Tables with overflowing bowls of exotic fruits and baskets of bread and cheese, bottles of wine and decanters of sweet nectars dotted every corner of the room. She would certainly not starve. Upon a pedestal beside a relief carving of the Goddess Florynia was an offering bowl of seeds. In the carving, the ultimate sacrifice of the goddess Florynia was portrayed in a triptych. In the first she hurried her people to the southern cliffs to seek refuge with their neighboring nations. In the second, she stood beneath the tree of life, sword braced at her side. The final image disturbed Isana. Florynia's body was positioned as she had seen represented in the main temple hall. Her back was arched, knees bent and parted, and her head falling back in a perpetual gasp of ecstasy. Above her, however, was a central figure. A demon faced Mangorian, his blade raised to strike her but he was positioned as a lover and grotesque as his face was, the barbarian's tongue lolled like a rutting dog's. Behind him were the rapt faces of a hundred more men, their bodies shamelessly unclothed and bearing rather detailed upraised...swords. Isana covered her mouth as she looked at the pornographic display of what she had come to think of as a more glorified death.

"My lady," the eldest girl nodded as she ushered the others out. "This will be your room for the duration of the festival." Nearing to see Isana's shock at the shrine, the girl explained. "The Gods showed mercy on Florynia as she was suffered such savagery and made the fruits and seeds of the tree above her lessen the pain and agony of her violations. Until that day, they had been naught but fruit and seeds." Regarding the image herself, the young woman inhaled deeply then whispered with reverence, "to have sacrificed so much to save her people...to be devoured, then bled to be eaten. She truly deserved to be risen unto the pantheon of Gods and made keeper of the Actovan people."

Isana turned from the shrine and studied the girl as she spoke. Her devotion and piety was inspiring. "It is truly a glorious tale. Her sacrifice is met by no other I know."

"Oh, I could not have done as you today, My Lady. No one has so bravely, not since Queen Raine...she was only a peasant girl then, though, you see." The young woman smiled then gestured to the seeds in the bowl. "It is required that the seeds are consumed continuously throughout the festival. So please eat them and inform us if you should need more."

Without much ceremony, the girl turned and strode out closing the doors behind her. Isana had not yet inquired after Eulos. Although she still hoped that he had found comfort with someone and at least tried to be polite and participate in the festival, she knew it was unlikely.

Since alone she was, and for an unknown delineation of time, Isana shed the drapery of sheer fabric and stepped into the bath with a mollified sigh. The entrancing perfume of the oiled water seemed to strip her mind of it's weariness just as the hot mineral waters assuaged her aching muscles. Time slipped away from her with the steam and only when the sudden slam of the doors jolted her upright did she even consider getting out. At first she half hid in the waters themselves, until she saw Eulos' enraged face as he storm out from behind a column.

"Eulos!" she scolded as loudly and sternly as a whisper would allow. "You terrified me half to death! Close the door!"

Although his teeth were bared, he obeyed. Closing, and locking, the doors. When he turned back to her, she had risen from the bath water and draped the thin veil coverlet back on, though it covered little against her wet body. The already sheer white fabric formed to her flesh highlighting her sculpted curves, framing her taut pink nipples and showing quite clearly her now naked mons veneris.

Thinking he would pay no mind given all he had likely seen already, Isana ignored these facts as she addressed him. "What is the meaning of your behavior?"

Eulos had looked the oldest she had ever seen the day her father had died. The man's silver hairs seemed to have doubled in that final hour. At this moment he looked the youngest she had seen him in years, behaving like a petulant child. The man wagged a finger at her as he spoke with unchecked fury.

"Your father would fall ill and die again were he alive to have witnessed this day!" A tiny vein bulged at his temple as he strained to be loud and ferocious in spite of his sedated vocal chords. "I've not witnessed such a vulgar display since seeing the Sibiline whores that entertained the men in camp during my youth."

Pursing her lips, Isana understood his anger. Castaceans, by nature, were far more reserved about their sexuality. It was not a thing of shame, but it was approached with far more discretion than this. "What would you have me done? Insult the King and Queen before all their people simply because I was ignorant to their ceremonies? My ignorance was my own fault. I have suffered the consequence of it. Now let it be no more. Tomorrow is their feasting day and the day after is a day of dancing in the streets, parades and performances--"

"Like the performance I just saw?" Eulos roared. "Such suffering as that I have never seen. You writhed and moaned as well as the most talented whores ever I have known!"

Isana's eyes narrowed. "As if you have never witnessed such from me before! I know that you kept close watch over me when Sartarus took my maidenhead, nor again every time we bed before his death in the war. How different is it to witness this now, than it was for you to watch my deflowering only years ago?"

Eulos's finger stabbed toward the doors, making accusation toward the whole of the Temple. "To lie with a lover is one thing. To lie with strangers for the visual enjoyment of others is disgraceful. It is pornography. You are defiled and unfit to be Queen is what they will argue now in Actova. The self-righteous senators will flaunt this to discredit your right of power."

"And what leathery old senator will come in my stead to negotiate the Actovan's assistance?! NONE. We would all die in the streets at the hands of the Sibiline— those who are not taken and branded, stripped of their humanity and made to serve as livestock." Isana's eyes glossed with hot angry tears. "What kind of warrior— what kind of MAN are you that could even think to let that happen? Would you not sacrifice anything to prevent such a fate for your family?"

"I AM trying to protect my family, Isana!" he argued through clenched teeth.

Turning from him with a snarl she spat venomous words though she knew not why she was attempting to hurt him. "You have no family Eulos. You are a man with dead seed with no field to sow it in. I have my people, and soon I'll have a husband. You will still have nothing but your over-developed sense of virtue."

Having her back to him, Isana was startled into a voiceless scream when he gripped her arm and flung her down onto the floor. She hit roughly, her hands slapping onto the marble as she caught herself. Before she could turn or push herself up, Eulos was upon her. One hand gripped the less than modest garb and cast it off as the other hooked about her hips and jerked her back toward him roughly. He gripped her hair and jerked her head back toward him.

"If my seed be dead then let me plant it in the same field as every other man today. Let me offer MY seed up to the Goddess' vessel for replenished virility," he snarled with a snide hiss, his breath hot against her ear and rank with the scent of wine.

"Eulos no..." Isana squealed, struggling to pull free of the much larger praetorian. He released her hair but only so long as to free himself of his own garb.

The brute force of his cock battering into the door of her femininity held no less rage than a team of soldiers bearing down on the gatehouse of a castle rampart. Had she voice to wail, she would have, but Isana's tears were soundless as they glided about her contorted mouth and fell to the tiled marble floor. Entangling his fingers possessively in her thick black hair, Eulos bent over her as he thrust in without mercy. "Sacrifice should come with pain, shouldn't it, your highness? I witnessed no pain today...only the wanton fucking of a Castacean whore. Does your cunt yet scream in agony or are you too well used to suffer my girth?"

Isana reached out toward the furs, for anything to grip onto to pull herself away from him, any way to escape this unprecedented rage. Suddenly she whimpered with relief when her jerked free of her. Eulos left her side only briefly, leaving her simpering on the cold floor. The woman believed he had come to his senses or at the very least found no more pleasure in doling out pain. The scratch of his scruffy cheek against hers as he bent over her, pulling her to him again from behind, and his next words, however, instilled more terror than even his first violations.

"You are right, Isana. I have born witness to your deflowering and defilement today and for years. I have suffered from the shadows in silence as so many other men have laid between your thighs and taken for granted the glorious pasture in which they traveled. Sartarus was never worthy of you. A pock faced boy that rutted with less grace than a dog. If it takes no more than a dog to please you, then so be it."