Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice (2 page)

But he was very experienced with reading the slightest body language of the wildlife he’d faced, and it was clear from his expression he didn’t fully believe her. His mouth was taut with pain and she felt the renewed surge of blood from his side. His eyes had dulled, and that worried her the most. He could just as easily die from a fever as from his injuries.

“Please,” she said, aware that the villagers were watching with naked interest. She must remain goddesslike, and yet she must somehow convince Zaren this was the right thing to do. “Come with me. I will care for you. And then we will leave,” she added softly.

She pulled away, heart thudding as she waited to see if he would follow. He made another of those warning noises, scoring their captors with an equally feral gaze, and nodded once.

But behind the dullness, the darkness in his gaze told Jane he had little patience for her so-called bargain with Cold Eyes. Zaren would not be caged and protected for long.

She only hoped that would, indeed, be the case.

— II—

Flanked by three other men
, Jane followed Cold Eyes toward a compact hut near the center of the village. It appeared to be new, and hastily erected.

She’d been bathed and massaged with oils as before, and then draped in ropes of flowering vines and feathers. None of which did anything to cover her nudity. Her hair had been braided and twisted into a pile on her head, with only a few tendrils curling over her neck and shoulders. The weight of her coiffure felt odd, especially since she no longer had her hair’s curtaining effect to help clothe her.

At the entrance to the hut, Cold Eyes turned to her. A small smile curved his thin lips. “Your ceremonial chamber awaits, goddess.” He spread his hand to encompass the space as he gestured her inside.

The small building had been constructed to resemble a primitive, albeit comfortable, boudoir. The floor was strewn with pallets, pillows, and furs, and a huge, altar-like bed sat in the center. The four posts at each corner were connected by bamboo rods that created a sort of canopy decorated with flowers, vines, and fabric. A fire crackled in one corner, safely confined by a large stone container, and the scent of wood smoke mingled with a sweet, cloying essence that had become very familiar to Jane. And, giving the chamber an even more exotic flavor, the walls were covered with more furs and thick tapestries woven of some unidentifiable material.

The space was hardly larger than a parlor would be back home, where one would receive and entertain guests and callers. But in this case, Jane had a suspicion she knew precisely what sort of “guests” would be entertained herein.

At one end of the chamber was a large pedestal or dais. Next to it burned two tall, slender pedestals that held shallow bowls with live coals that gave off a soft red-golden glow. A table near one side of the room boasted a variety of containers that appeared to offer food and drink.

There were no windows. There was one door.

And in the corner there were ropes, sticks, and something that appeared to be a crude whip.

Jane’s insides swirled nervously. She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.
They want only my pleasure and my blessing.

She would endure it.

She could endure anything, knowing that Zaren was safe…at least as safe as she could make him.
A dart of fear shot through her. Not for her own fate was she terrified, but for him—the man she loved, who even now lay feverish and injured in the hut belonging to the village healer, who was a wizened old woman with sharp black eyes. He’d been so since they returned with Cold Eyes and the others late last night.

“Your subjects were disappointed by the interruption of last night’s ceremony,” Cold Eyes said, urging her into the chamber. “But I assured them you would bestow even more grace and favor upon them because of the delay. Still, their impatience grows.”

Jane refused to ask the obvious questions: what was she to do, and what was required of her to provide “grace and favor” to her “subjects”?

“Thus, there is no time to waste. Your throne, goddess.” He made a gesture to the massive bed, and before Jane could protest, two of the guards directed her onto the large platform. But instead of forcing her to recline, as she might have expected, they directed her to stand on the edge of the mattress at one end, facing the bed.

Then they lashed her wrists high onto the bedposts so she stood, spread-armed, looking down onto the large pallet strewn with furs, pillows, and flowers. One of the men stirred up the fire, and another sprinkled leaves into the shallow bowls on the two tall pedestals. Almost immediately, the sweet, exotic scent she’d come to associate with these ceremonies grew stronger.

“Behold,” said Cold Eyes as the door opened. “Your subjects, goddess.”

A man and woman—Jane had a moment to spare for gratitude that there was only the two of them—entered as Cold Eyes and his men left the hut. She recognized the couple as one of the pairs who’d made an offering to her during the first part of the ceremony last night.

They came in, dressed in beautiful ceremonial clothing complete with feathers, flowers, and animal skins, moving immediately to the table of food and drink. Jane watched with some apprehension as the woman filled a crude bamboo goblet with a dark liquid and the man placed an unfamiliar red fruit on a small plate.

The couple approached the bed with their victuals and climbed onto it, settling upright on their knees in front of her. Apparently, the fact that their “goddess” was tied up and nearly hanging in front of them caused no consternation whatsoever.

With earnest faces, the man and woman looked up at Jane and spoke in a chant as they swayed gently, proffering her the food and drink—which, of course, she was physically unable to accept. Then both collapsed in obeisant bows, still holding the offerings, and remained prostrate for a long moment.

Jane was just about to speak when the man rose and brought his selection to her. She opened her mouth and he slipped the fleshy red fruit between her lips, then licked the juices off his fingers with an enthusiastic red tongue.

The fruit was sweet and had an effervescent, almost fermented element. But she hardly had time to taste it before the woman rose and tilted the cup to her mouth. Much of the pungent liquid spilled down the front of Jane, but she caught some of it in her mouth and drank. This too was unfamiliar, but not unpleasing. Slightly bitter, it warmed her from the very moment she swallowed, and she felt the flush roll from her belly throughout each of her limbs.

As soon as she’d finished her offering to Jane, the woman tossed away the empty goblet. This seemed to be a signal, for the man—presumably her husband—pulled her toward him. The two kissed passionately on the bed below Jane, tongues twining and delving, mouths devouring. As she looked down, the couple began to pull off each other’s clothing to reveal sleek, dark-skinned bodies.

Soon, they were both naked and entwined on the massive pallet in front of Jane, seemingly unaware or uncaring of their goddess’s presence. She could do nothing but watch, suspended by her arms, as the two feasted upon each other with crazy mouths and stroking hands. Jane tried to close her eyes, but the scents and sounds surrounding her were intense and distracting, and she couldn’t seem to block them from her mind.

The man flipped his partner expertly onto her back. She sprawled on the bed with a soft, pleased
whuff
and a large jolt beneath Jane’s feet. Her coarse, dark hair brushed her goddess’s toes as the man arched over her. She had small, tight, cocoa-colored breasts with taut red nipples that glistened in the dim light, thrusting up teasingly at Jane—who’d never seen aroused female breasts other than her own. She found it startlingly erotic, and could not pull her eyes away from them.

Like Jane, the man seemed unable to get enough of the woman’s tits, for he fondled and teased as she gasped and shuddered beneath his busy hands. When his dark head dipped to them, Jane could hear the erotic sounds of sucking and licking, the enthusiastic lapping of his tongue, the low, aroused moans and sighs. The woman cried out softly, her face turned up with an ecstatic expression, her full, wet lips parted. Clearly, she loved her man, and was fully enjoying his attentions.

Jane realized she, too, was having a difficult time breathing, and that the more impassioned the couple became, the less able she was to look from the tableau before her. The enveloping, sweet smoke in the air combined with whatever they’d given her to eat and drink made her hazy, and yet sharply awake and aware. Even when she managed to close her eyes ever so briefly, she saw and heard them; she smelled the musky scent of man and woman and arousal as it filled her nostrils.

The twining, writhing, dark-skinned bodies—smooth, shifting muscles, tight breasts, a thick, full cock, and even the flash of a moist pink quim—had her full attention, and the images combined with the sounds of moans and suction and lips and tongue caused Jane’s body to tighten, shiver, and dampen. A dart of arousal shot up from her needy little pip, then settled into a low, insistent pulse.

Jane shifted as her own quim swelled and grew warm as the couple below her became louder and more passionate with their sighs and groans and cries. When the man eased back, kneeling on his haunches, Jane’s mouth dried at the sight of his ready cock. Not as large as Devilish Grin’s, and not as beautiful as Zaren’s, but turgid and ready. She imagined she could see the gentle vibration of its need as the man closed his fingers around it, preparing to slide into the wet, red heat of his woman.

Jane clamped her knees together, needing the pressure on her tiny pearl as it began to throb gently. But even that did nothing but tease her as the man shifted his hips and shoved inside his partner.

Both cried out, and Jane bit her own lip to keep from doing the same. Heat rushed over her, and she felt clammy and lightheaded. The bed on which her toes rested rocked and shifted violently as the man slammed and thrust against his woman. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh, of the soft suction of her wet quim accepting the dark red length of his erection, the scent of musk and pleasure, sweat and incense had Jane panting on her own, writhing against her own restraints.

She crossed her legs, pressing them hard together, feeling the slippery moisture and the hard little nub tucked in there, shifting her hips desperately—but she was unable to find the relief she needed. As the writhing, undulating couple pumped and jolted and she saw the dark red length of cock slide in and out of the woman’s pussy, Jane found herself moving in the same motion, her hips shifting, her legs glued together as she tried to find pressure, and rhythm, and heat…

At last the woman cried out, arching up beneath her man. Jane saw her fingernails drag down her partner’s back, leaving deep red wheals all the way to his muscular buttocks. The man’s head reared back as he gusted out a deep moan only moments later, then he fell back over his woman, breathing heavily.

Jane closed her eyes, her body tight and throbbing and full. Her pip was ready to explode, her inner thighs wet from her useless juices, her quim swollen and sensitive, her nipples pinpoint taut. She realized she was panting nearly as harshly as the couple before her, and tried to pull herself under control.

But the days and hours of intense pleasure she’d experienced since arriving in the jungle—from Zaren and Jonathan and even the people here in this village—had taught her body
need
, and arousal, and had caused her to become so sensitive to scent, touch, and sound that she couldn’t fight it back.

And so Jane stood there, sagging by her arms, her knees squeezed tightly together, her body hot and damp and pulsing insistently, her nipples tight and jutting against the vines and leather wrappings around her, her quim throbbing wetly between her thighs, and she waited.

Now that the couple was done, what would happen?

It seemed a long while before either of the prone figures moved—a long while in which Jane hung in a state of uncertain arousal—but at last they stirred.

Slowly, the man ran his hand along his woman’s body, and she shivered and smiled as a lover often does. Then she smoothed her hand over his belly and as Jane watched, the woman closed her hand over his relaxed cock. He smiled, arching into her grip, and his eyes rolled back with pleasure as the woman began to stroke him.

As his partner began to coax his cock back to life, the man slid his fingers between her legs. Jane’s mouth went dry as the woman’s knees spread apart and she could see the moist red of her nether lips below the thatch of dark hair. She smothered a desperate moan as the man slid his hand over his woman’s quim, slipping and sliding through the musk-scented juices with soft, sleek suctioning sounds.

The woman shivered and sighed, her hand moving faster up and down his erection. Now Jane could hear the sounds of friction, of a hand over the velvety skin of a cock, and the soft, wet splats of fingers sliding into the depths of the woman’s hot pussy. The man gave a soft, erotic chuckle and bent to lick a saucy nipple, lapping and sucking vigorously.