Read Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice Online

Authors: Colette Gale

Tags: #Fiction/Erotica

Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice (5 page)

BOOK: Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice
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It should be Jane who touched him like this, Jane whose hands stroked and teased…but his body cared about nothing but the rhythm, the sliding up and down, faster and faster…
faster

All at once a storm washed over him. He reared up a little, grunting as seed spurted from his pulsing rod and a white blaze of pleasure burst from him.

Zaren collapsed back onto his pallet, dimly aware of soft, excited voices and murmurs…of the hands that still stroked and massaged and scratched him. His body thrummed and vibrated, sated and yet strangely empty and dull.

“Jane,” he managed to say. At least, he thought he whispered her name. But no one seemed to notice.

Instead, the hands remained there, adjusting him, rubbing his skin, brushing back his long, coiled hair from where it clung to his face, massaging his fingers and smoothing over his chest as if he’d accomplished some great thing. He wavered, somewhere between sleep and consciousness, the dull aching burn at his side a reminder of…something.

Then his eyes bolted back open, and his body became sharply aware…for they were rubbing his relaxed cock again, this time with something greasy and slick. It smelled pleasant, and
felt
even more pleasant on his sensitive skin…

Zaren realized he was growing hard again. A gentle prickling sensation from the cream seemed to awaken his rod, to make it lift and twitch—so soon? He shifted, moving his hips to shift away, but strong, practical hands pushed him back down onto his bed even while others massaged and stroked his cock back to life.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as lust built, his blood surging back to fill his rod…this time more urgently, with a dull, throbbing heat.

And when he was hard again, jutting up, filling the slick hands that curled around him, he closed his eyes and waited for the long, smooth, steady strokes to bring him to the peak again.

But something changed—the woman shifted, her hands moving away. He relaxed, more than ready to slide back into repose despite the throb between his legs, for he wanted no one to touch him besides Jane.

When the woman’s mouth closed over him, Zaren surged, pushing weakly at the invading sensation with a low growl. But his head thudded painfully, and the searing injury in his side screamed with shock. Hands forced him back down as that hot mouth slid down over him, deep into her throat.

He groaned, deep and low like an angry cat, and blood and seed bolted through him to that hard place. He couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t beat back the hot pleasure from long, warm, sleek movements over him. Up and down, up and down…his world became centered there, heavy and hard and engorged. He felt himself fill and swell, and her mouth become tighter around him, hotter and damper, and he heard the soft moans and sighs surrounding him as she rose and fell.

Faster and faster…Zaren’s eyes rolled back in his head and he gasped and moaned, suddenly moving his hips to drive deeper and deeper, hard and frenzied and so hot and full…

He cried out like an animal in death, felt himself explode into the warm mouth around him, then fell back, trembling and shuddering and spent.

And then she was there: warm, soft, familiar.

Jane.

— V—

 

When Jane became aware
of her surroundings once more, she found she’d been released from her bonds and was curled up on the altar-bed.

She was blessedly alone and could only guess how long she’d been so. A bit of light filtered through the crack around the door, and the small fires in the braziers had sunk into nothing more than coals. Was it morning, then?

Her body ached—her arms, her legs, her shoulders, and especially her breasts and abused nipples. The little pip hooded inside her quim felt full and swollen, pressed between her legs as she slept. As she drew herself up onto her hands, hair tumbling over her face and shoulders, Jane heard a tortured cry—something like an animal in pain.

“Zaren!” She didn’t know how she knew it was him, but she was certain. Stumbling off the bed, she staggered to the door.

Unheeding of her nakedness—what had she to hide?—Jane flung open the door of the hut and found herself confronted by two large, dark-skinned men. Guards.

They blocked the way with strong arms and long spears, and seemed to have no intention of allowing her to leave. Jane didn’t know what she would have done if Cold Eyes hadn’t walked up at that moment.

“I demand to see Zaren,” she told him, standing straight and tall—very aware of the hot gazes from the spear-wielding men. “Take me to him now.”

Cold Eyes swept her with a disinterested look and appeared ready to ignore her demand, but she would have none of it.

“Take me to him or I will bring down my wrath on your people,” she pressed. “If I am angry, they will know whom to blame. And I can be
very
angry. And very unaccommodating.” She cut a dark, warning look at the guards, who’d stepped back in the wake of her furious words…but still ogled her jaunty breasts tipped with nipples that were still bright red from Dahla’s determined mouth.

Jane had no power here but the villagers’ belief in her as a goddess, but she would use that advantage as long as she could. If Cold Eyes wasn’t so disliked and distrusted by his people, she would never have this leverage.

“Of course, goddess,” said Cold Eyes when he felt the measured weight of the two guards’ attention pass from her to him and back.

Even Jane recognized their uncertainty. They couldn’t understand their words—which was a benefit to her. They just knew she was angry, and that Cold Eyes had acquiesced to her.

“You may see the man. He’s feverish and has yet to awaken, though he has been well tended to.” Then Cold Eyes’s thin lips curved into a flat smile. “And you might wish to rest before tonight. I suspect you shall be even busier than last evening.”

Jane swallowed hard and her pip gave a sudden little pulse, as if to remind her how willing her body was to accept this role. “Where is he?” she demanded by way of response.

“There, of course.” He gestured languidly with a large hand, pointing to the healer’s hut.

Jane wasted no further time. She didn’t even grab anything with which to cover herself—what was the point?—and darted over to the hut. After that one animalistic cry, she’d heard no other sounds of pain or anguish.

She flung the door of the hut open—she was a goddess, after all—sending a myriad of young female attendants scattering with startled squeaks. The elderly healing woman was nowhere in sight, but there was Zaren, sprawled on the same pallet on which she’d left him…yesterday? Late yesterday afternoon.

He didn’t move or otherwise acknowledge the sound of her entrance, and Jane rushed over to him.

He was hot to the touch, and her pulse spiked with fear. His skin had a fine sheen of perspiration glossing it, and his breathing was raspy and rough. Covered only by a scrap of cloth draped over his hips, the rest of his glorious, powerful body was naked. Jane felt a sharp pang of lust and some stronger, deep emotion as she knelt on the pallet beside him. He was so strong…surely he would fight through this.

“Zaren,” she whispered, stroking his arm and smoothing the springy coils of hair from his face. Tears gathered at her eyes and a pang of fear shot through her. He had to recover. He must live.

At her touch, he seemed to become more aware. He mumbled something that sounded like her name—rough and coarse, but definitely something like “
Jaaaane
”…and he reached out blindly.

Her heart leapt with hope and she grasped his powerful hand. His fingers curled around hers as if she were a lifeline. He muttered something again, pulling her down next to him…next to his too-hot, too-damp body. His grip was surprisingly strong, and Jane allowed herself to be imprisoned: brought up tight to his torso, enveloped by him.

She closed her eyes, exhausted, afraid—but
home.

And when his breathing at last settled into something more smooth and steady, she slept.

 

~*~

Jane came awake suddenly to find Cold Eyes standing over her and Zaren.

The healer’s hut was dark, lit only by a few meager coals in the corner. But even in the dim light, she saw the glint in the other man’s eyes as they swept over her…and Zaren.

His gaze lingered heavily on the long, lean thigh Zaren had curled around Jane’s leg, his muscular hip and tight buttocks…then lifted to meet her eyes.

“Come, goddess. Your subjects await.”

Jane wondered what would happen if she refused…if she fought him back and clung to Zaren. But as she brushed against her lover’s skin and felt the burning temperature of his fever, she abandoned that thought.

She’d do nothing to risk his health and safety. He must be left to heal, to fight through the fever and to regain his strength. He must…for she couldn’t consider what would happen to her if he did not.

And so Jane pulled away from Zaren. It was difficult, for though deep in the semi-consciousness of fever, he held tight. It was as if he somehow knew it was she.

Nevertheless, Jane stood and turned resolutely from the man she loved. As she did so, she noticed the aged healer, sitting in her chair in the corner. Without another glance at Cold Eyes, Jane went to the elderly woman.

“You must make him well. Care for him. For if he doesn’t recover, you’ll feel my wrath—you and the entire village.” She spoke sharply and firmly, and although the healer surely couldn’t comprehend her words, she certainly must understand the meaning.

“Come, goddess. I grow impatient,” Cold Eyes said. “There are preparations to be done.”

Aren’t there always?
Jane thought, suppressing a shiver. What activities would they subject her to this evening?

The first one, she found—and couldn’t complain about—was a warm bath. Her aching muscles wept with pleasure (a wholly different type of pleasure than before) when she sank into the large tub of steaming, floral-scented water. She soaked for a while, and was just beginning to feel relaxed and optimistic when her attendants drew her up and out of the bath.

She was draped in a single tanned hide that wrapped around her waist like a very short loincloth, leaving her breasts bare and her quim hardly covered. And then she was taken once more to the hut with the altar-bed.

Inside Jane found the same arrangement as last evening, with a table filled with food and drink, and pungent fires burning with the heady incense that made her feel slow and murky almost immediately. And yet her heart began to pound in expectation, and her skin tingled with anticipation.

When the two guards—the same ones who’d blocked her from leaving earlier this morning—directed Jane to her position between the bedposts, standing on the head of the bed, she wanted to resist.

“Save your strength, goddess,” Cold Eyes warned, as if reading her mind. “Surely you’ll need it tonight, for Ulma and Deren are
very
eager to curry your favor. And your pleasure.”

Jane swallowed hard, her belly fluttering at the thought, and a sharp spear of lust and apprehension shot straight to her pip. It pulsed in a naughty reminder that her body, at least, would be willing and able to bestow “favor” on the worshipful couple.

Her wrists were tied loosely to the tops of the two bedposts, and her ankles spread and tied to the bases of the same. Standing there, she felt less like a goddess and more like a sacrifice herself, but Jane summoned her strength.

No one was about to hurt her. They wanted only her pleasure.

And she would accept that. For Zaren’s sake.

The third couple was young and oddly similar to each other in appearance. Both were tall, and Ulma, the woman, had high, hardly noticeable breasts and boyish hips. Her partner, Deren, was slender and lanky. His attention strayed to Jane and remained on her even as they stood at the table of offerings, making their selections.

Jane looked over as the hut door closed, leaving her alone with Ulma and Deren, and when she turned back, they were approaching the altar-bed.

As before, she was plied with food and drink. But no sooner had Deren tipped the cup to her mouth—spilling half of it down the front of her—than he tossed it away and said something sharply to Ulma.

Then he moved off the bed and positioned himself behind Jane just as Ulma took her place in front. Deren was obviously standing on something, for when he pressed into Jane from the back, she felt the jut of his hard cock against the crack of her arse. She jolted at the unexpected prodding sensation and gave a little shiver as his hands came around from behind to cup her breasts.

Pinching her nipples and fondling her from behind, Deren kissed and licked along her shoulder and neck, sending arousing prickles over her skin. He pushed his cock along the seam of her arse, sliding it up and down, and Jane felt herself grow full and wet.

She curled her fingers into fists and tried to keep from moaning as her arousal grew, but by now Ulma had knelt in front of her. She spread Jane’s thighs, roughly forcing them apart in a generous vee. Using her thumbs, she pulled Jane’s quim lips so they were wide and open, allowing her little pearl to thud expectantly. Jane felt as if her pussy was about to explode; it was full and pulsing, free to swell and grow as Ulma bent forward.

BOOK: Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice
10.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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