Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice (3 page)

Jane moaned, curling her fingers around the cords that bound her gently to the bedposts, drawing in a deep breath and trying to block the growing strength of her pearl and its desperate throbbing.
Please,
she mouthed…not knowing what she really wanted, just wanting
something
.

Her nipples were so tight they hurt, and the unfulfilled arousal between her legs was sharp and tingling, and still the couple played and licked and sucked and stroked. The woman shifted on the bed and knelt to take her man’s cock in her mouth. Jane’s eyes latched on to the sight of her juicy red lips sliding up and down the thick length, and she trembled, somehow wanting to taste it herself.

Not once did they look up at her. Not once did they appear to even notice her presence, let alone her need and desperation. They were completely, utterly engrossed in the body of the other, and Jane was nothing but an unwilling spectator. An untouchable goddess.

When the man thrust himself inside his partner once more, Jane gusted out her breath in a moan that matched the woman’s, and she could not tear her eyes away from them as they mated, coupling wildly in front of her, flesh slapping, bed rocking, muscles bunching and sliding. The long red cock moved in and out, faster and faster, and Jane’s hips twitched in vain, desperately matching each thrust with no hope of relief. The bedposts creaked with her rhythm and that of the couple below her, and when they reached their peak, Jane cried out too.

But her moan was one of pain and need, while the other sounds in the chamber were that of pleasure and satisfaction.

Once again, the pair collapsed on the bed in front of her, and Jane had the terrifying thought that she might be witness to them coupling
all night
. Over and over, as her arms grew numb and her body overheated, and her arousal was left unfulfilled and in pain.

“Please,” she whispered. This time louder. This time, loudly enough for them to hear.

But she was answered only by the soft, grinding snore from the man, and a delicate, contented sigh from his partner.

They were asleep.

And Jane was left hanging there, swollen, dripping, aching. Frustrated.

— III—

Jane must have dozed off,
or slipped into some other sort of stupor, for she slowly became aware of her surroundings once again.

Her arms ached, and she realized they were immovable—she was still suspended from the bedposts. The hut was filled with a soft yellow glow emanating from the fire pit and renewed torches, and she wasn’t able to tell whether it was light or dark outside. The scents of musk and coitus and the titillating incense still colored the air.

She realized the altar-bed below her was empty; at some point the couple had left. Likely only recently, for surely she wouldn’t have slept that heavily. Jane felt a wave of relief that they’d gone instead of subjecting her once again to their lovemaking.

For clearly what they’d done before her was nothing less than making love. After the last days and weeks of experiencing a variety of physical pleasure and torment—both willingly and unwillingly—Jane recognized the depth of emotion between the man and woman.

The same sort of emotion and deep passion flared between her and Zaren whenever they were together—and had, from the very first time he’d touched her, when she was caught up and entangled in a web of vines.

A man like Devilish Grin could draw pleasure and coax—well,
unleash
might have been a better term—intense relief and erotic pleasure from Jane, but it had no more depth or emotion than taking a piss. Jane had come to understand the difference, and she realized now what had been lacking between her and Jonathan.

Zaren…his very touch was layered with love and affection and respect. He would never allow another man to touch her, or to trade her for any sort of treasure. How could she have ever thought she loved Jonathan? How could she not have
seen
through his superficial care and deceit? When he had shared her body with Kellan Darkdale, his partner in crime, she should have realized he didn’t truly love her.

Jane swallowed hard. She didn’t wish violence on anyone and she didn’t celebrate his demise at the teeth and claws of the lion, but she was damned glad Jonathan would never bother her again.

But Zaren.
Oh, God, please let him live.

By agreeing to come back here, she’d made the best bargain she could; she’d done the only thing that gave him a chance of being healed. She believed if—no,
when
—he recovered, they’d find a way to escape this village. But she had no way of knowing what was happening with him, or whether he still thrashed and rolled from the fever that had begun to take him. The village healer had seemed willing to help, and Jane had put her trust in the old woman.

But she wanted to see him. She needed to assure herself Zaren still breathed.
I am a goddess. I should be able to command these people!

She pulled at her bonds in frustration no longer related to sexual need, but desperation for the man she loved. The bedpost creaked but the bonds held firmly.

She was just about to call out, to make an imperious command, when the hut door opened. Moonlight glowed on the ground outside, and in walked Cold Eyes, followed by two young women.

One carried a sort of basket, the other a large vessel that clearly contained some sort of liquid.

“How have you fared, goddess?”

“My arms are numb. Surely there’s no need for me to be restrained,” she said sharply.

The two young women—ones she didn’t recognize, and who seemed hardly into their teens—jolted a little at her tone.
Good. Let them fear me.

“Very well, then. We can adjust that.” Cold Eyes came to stand behind her, and Jane felt the warmth of his body pressing into her bare backside. He reached up and fumbled with the cords that held her left arm, releasing it from its raised position. But instead of leaving it free, he merely moved it down so it extended directly out from her shoulder.

The blood rushed back into her arm and Jane gritted her teeth against the sharp prickles. She was in such discomfort she hardly noticed when the two girls approached. As Cold Eyes lowered her other hand and affixed it to its post, the attendants began to unwind the flowers, vines, and leather wrappings that had acted as clothing—such as it was. Then they used warm, scented water and sea sponges to wash her nude body.

They dabbed at her tender breasts, sliding the rough sponges over her sensitive skin, down over her belly, and along her thighs. One of them used a cloth to bathe Jane between the legs, forcing her to relax her clenched knees. The friction and stroking of her nether parts with a hot, scented rag caused Jane to sigh with relief…and then to tense and throb with expectation and awareness once again. The ablutions seemed to have the effect of reawakening her body, which had temporarily gone quiet and dormant—exhausted from frustration and tension.

By the time the girls were done, Jane was quivering and wet. Her skin was damp from the warm water that now ran in tickling rivulets down her arms and legs, and her little pip was full and throbbing once more.

In an attempt to put the demands of her pulsing sex from her mind, Jane said, “I wish to see Zaren.”

Cold Eyes, who had watched silently during the bathing, shrugged. “You have more to do this night, goddess. Your grace and favor was clearly upon Timi and Greela, for they came out of your chamber with great happiness. Now you must bestow the same upon the others who desire it. And here they are—Dahla and Guri.”

He turned as a man and woman came in through the hut door. The young bathing attendants squeaked in surprise, as if they’d been caught falling down on their tasks. But Jane hardly noticed, for the woman who came in the door immediately caught her attention.

Awareness darted through her as Jane recognized the newcomer. She—Dahla—was the leader of those who’d bathed her the first time, the woman who had shoved her face between Jane’s legs and sucked and drank from her so vigorously, demonstrating for the others.

At the memory, her lungs constricted, and her body felt hot and trembly, shivery from top to bottom. All at once, Jane was back to that same taut, frustrated state of arousal she’d been in while watching the woman and man coupling in front of her.

And when Dahla turned to look at Jane, focusing eyes hot and dark on her, she nearly jolted from the weight of them. Already beginning to pant, Jane was only vaguely aware when Cold Eyes and the bathing girls left. Instead, she struggled to control this unusual, intense reaction to the mere presence of this woman.

The man—Guri—had gone to the table of food and drink, and he beckoned for his wife or partner to join him. Jane watched as they made their selections. Though it had only happened once before, she knew this would be a ceremonial rite, and that they would come and offer their gifts to her.

Guri lifted a cup to Jane’s lips. This libation was different than the one she’d tasted before—bitter and strong, and with a long aftertaste. Nevertheless, Jane was thirsty and swallowed several large gulps without any trickling from her mouth.

Then Dahla, the woman, approached. She was holding a small plate with a dark red square on it, hardly larger than Zaren’s thumb. Her eyes were hot and filled with meaning as she lifted the soft reddish cake, breaking a piece off and offering it to Jane, who parted her lips obediently. Her breath was harsh and unsteady as she waited to see what would happen to her this time.

Dahla slid the bit of sticky sweet into Jane’s mouth, allowing her fingers to linger over her lips then brushing them in a sensual caress. Holding her gaze, still hot, still heavy, she licked her own lips suggestively as she broke off another piece of the sweetmeat for Jane.

This time, however, she brought it to her own mouth first, tasting it with exaggerated, pursed lips and the slow swipe of her tongue. Then she lifted the bite to Jane, who wanted to turn her head away, to reject the offering…but the woman was too fast and determined. Before she knew it, the sticky fig-like cake was smashed on and into her lips, and she could taste its moist sweetness. She choked a little on a crumb, and swallowed the bit that had gone into her mouth…but much of it was smeared on her lips and chin.

Dahla stepped back, her eyes still avid, and offered the last bit of cake to Guri. They spoke briefly and he nodded, his attention flickering to Jane, then back to his partner, who smiled and drew off the simple tunic-like dress she wore. She had large breasts, an unruly bush of dark hair growing between her legs, and wide, full hips.

She turned to Jane, who instinctively drew back as far as her ties would allow, arms straining with the effort. But Dahla came after her, taking Jane’s face in two strong hands, bringing her naked body so close her warm breasts pushed against Jane’s, and began to kiss and lick away the remnants of food from around her goddess’s mouth. She was strong and determined, and not at all gentle; her fingers dug firmly into Jane’s jaw and chin as she devoured her mouth with surprising roughness.

Jane had never been kissed by a woman before, and she found the experience unexpectedly sensual, wholly unfamiliar, and more arousing than she would have expected. Dahla’s tongue was strong and her lips were soft, and she ate at Jane’s mouth, sliding her tongue between her lips and invading her passionately.

Jane couldn’t breathe, and she couldn’t move, and she found herself groaning and gasping, trying in vain to twist away from the hot, busy lips and strong, swiping tongue. Her insides were hot and moist, and by now her breasts had become crushed harder against the two hard-tipped mounds of Dahla’s breasts, their bellies bumping and sliding against each other in an unfamiliar sensation, the brush of wiry hair tickling her skin.

At last the other woman pulled away, her breathing rough and fast, her eyes dull with passion. But instead of turning to her partner, Dahla smoothed her dark hands along Jane’s neck and shoulders, down to cover her breasts. The expression in her face changed to one of open-mouthed pleasure as she fondled and hefted each pert-nippled handful, her thumb tracing lightly over one of them. Her other palm pressed flat into the other one as she kneaded and stroked the pale globe.

Jane closed her eyes, trying to ignore the incessant, arousing sensation, and to fight back the surge of lust that shot through her at the teasing. Then Dahla grasped her by the hips and pulled her closer, bending her head to cover Jane’s left nipple with full, wet lips.

Jane arched and jolted at the sudden, rough onslaught, but Dahla’s strong fingers dug painfully into her hips and held her in place as she sucked and sucked, the pull hard and long and never-ending—as if she meant to draw every bit of tit into the depths of her mouth. Acute pleasure entwined with pain shot down through Jane’s belly with each long tug, and she cried out, her moan filled with both desperation and need as she shuddered and trembled beneath the other woman’s hands.

Still the woman went on, licking and sucking, her mouth wide and hot, closing around Jane’s entire areola as she drew it in deep, sliding her tongue around and over the tight, sensitive tip. Jane bit her lip, squeezing her eyes closed as the pain-tinged pleasure rose and tightened within her, prickling and hot, arrowing down and down, over and over, faster and faster…until the sharp sting of pain lost out to bold lust and exploded into a long, undulating orgasm, rolling through her body with brutal force.