Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (71 page)

I
looked around, this time focusing on the other Candidates. The more I looked
the more sure I became that I would not be Chosen. I was certainly not the most
attractive Candidate and I was most definitely the oldest. Surely they would
take one of the young beauties. I would end up in Blood Service, in
apprenticeship to a trade. In the seamstress rooms or perhaps weaving.

My
wondering ceased upon the abrupt sound of wood hitting stone. I looked up to
see the double doors behind the great wooden table open, the doors flung wide.
One male and one female Chosen entered through the space. A third person, a
woman bound in fine black ribbons, followed. She was almost naked, strips of
shiny black wrapped around her breasts, wrists and torso. Her lower body from
the waist down was completely bare—even of hair. Shocked, I looked away
and a heated blush crept up my chest and neck.

The
Chosen man clapped his hands. The sound was inhuman and like a crack of thunder
it echoed off the walls, so loud it hurt. I brought my hands up to protect my
ears. I was not alone. Other Candidates too held their ears, some cried,
whimpering in pain. The mood in the room had changed. Instead of palpable
excitement, now there was fear. We huddled together, unconsciously forming a
tight circle that shifted back, away from the Chosen and closer to the doors
through which we had entered.

“Move
to the markings that match your shire.” His voice was compelling—almost
physical—it brushed against my skin like sharp nails down my back, half
pleasure, half pain. The throb I had felt when I had seen the Chosen in the
street returned to settle deep between my legs in a damp heat.

The
Chosen man clapped again, not so loud this time and to my shock the floor began
to glow. Multi colored lights appeared beneath us, a map of Vandarra, each
shire glowing a different color. Around me the Candidates started to move from
the protective circle to the markings of their shire. I followed, finding mine,
grateful that it was in the middle near the back, making me but a small hidden
tree in the forest of Candidates.

I
wasn’t sure what to expect once we were all placed upon the map but it
certainly wasn’t the ominous silence that followed, laying like a thick blanket
on a Summer’s day, suffocating me as I waited, waited for what was to come.
Through a gap in the map of bodies, I spied the Chosen male. I watched him take
a seat on one of the high-backed wooden chairs. The ribbon-bound woman settled
at his feet, between his sprawled legs. He ran his fingers through her hair,
tugging at the strands, making fists in her long bangs. I didn’t know why but
the manipulation of his hands unfurled a lick of heat in me, a sudden strong
desire I had never before known.

The
Chosen Woman did not sit. She stalked the room, not speaking, just pausing
every now and then near a Candidate. The waiting made the throb worse. I
squeezed my thighs together as if I could somehow stem the wet flow of heat.
The Chosen woman wore pants—the first woman I had ever seen do
so—sleek black tights that hugged the length of her legs. They cut low on
her hips leaving an inch sliver of pale skin showing between the waistband and
her corseted top. I concentrated on that pale line, keeping my eyes low, hoping
to somehow melt into the background, thinking if I did, she would pass me by
unnoticed.

Finally
she spoke. Where the Chosen man’s voice had hinted at seductive pain the
woman’s spoke it clearly. It cut like a razor, sharp but not shrill. She spoke
not to us but to The Chosen man.

“I
love the sweet smell of fear in the morning. Don’t you, my brother?”

He
laughed, a deep throbbing chuckle that made the thin bronze strands in the
window thrum.

“I
can taste it.” She stopped and opened her mouth, swirling her tongue out as if
tasting the air. “Not just fear brother, but more. So much more. Can you taste
it too?”

I
titled my head so I could see him clearly. He closed his eyes, breathed in
deeply and nodded. “Yes sister. It smells good.”

She
then began to weave through the Candidates, trailing her fingers across us as
she did. She moved quickly, building speed until it seemed she was just a black
blur moving above the glowing colors. When she reached me, she trailed a sharp
nail along the exposed skin of my collar bone. I held my breath, waiting for
her to move on, but she didn’t. Instead she circled me, prowling around me like
a car, her finger trailing down my body in circles, from my collarbone to my
pelvis.

I
did not flinch. I did not move.

“This
one,” she said and I could not believe my ears.

This
one
what
? What did she mean?

The
Chosen man gave a lazy wave of his hand and the Candidates in front of me
parted. Shifting aside like a sea of grass waving in the wind.

He
looked at me. I felt his stare come in a wave of heat. It washed across me and
I had to lock my knees to stop from falling.

“This
one,” the Chosen woman said again. “This one…is
interesting
.”

I
did not look at her; I kept my eyes on him. His hand pulled at the short hair
of the woman between his legs. He dragged her up onto her knees. She writhed
into him, purring as if urging him to tug harder. He did, pulling roughly at
her head until he positioned her mouth at his crotch. As he watched me he
pumped the woman’s head at his groin, rubbing the obvious bulge against her
face. He pulled at her head, jerking her as if she were an inanimate object.
Not a real woman, but a puppet for his pleasure. I tried to look away. Tried to
be disgusted by the show of pain and dominance as I knew I should, but I
couldn’t, and the feeling that coursed through my body was not disgust.

I
was afraid, so afraid…that it was lust.

The
woman at his feet spread her legs wide, splaying her knees and pushing up her
buttocks. I could see between her legs. I could see the open pink wetness of
her sex. As I watched, I had forgotten the Chosen woman. I had forgotten she was
watching me. I remembered as she pushed into my back, her breasts flattening
against me and her hips jutting into my buttocks.

“Watch,”
she whispered in my ear with her painfully seductive voice.

The
woman on her knees rocked back, the rounded white curve of her bottom
hypnotizing. I could not look away. Right in front of me, right before my eyes,
she unlaced the Chosen male’s fly and released his erect shaft.

I
was no virgin. I had carefully chosen lovers from the meager offerings of the
Village, those I could control, men who would not want more from me than I
would give. I did not seek them for my own pleasure—fortunate because I
had found none. I did it more to spite my Uncle and cousin than to slake my own
desire. I had seen an erect penis—several in fact—but I had never
seen the likes of which now jutted high and erect from the Chosen male’s lap.
Proud and plum-tipped, it was more than two hand span, I knew this because the
kneeling woman had both her hands around the shaft. I realized I was open-mouthed
when I heard him chuckle. He pushed the kneeling woman’s head aside and with
the hand not gripped in her hair, gestured to his cock.

I
quickly closed my mouth and shook my head. He laughed again.

Sliding
further down the chair he spread his legs wider. With a rough tug on the
kneeling woman’s hair, he brought her so she straddled his right calf. She was
up on her haunches with her knees splayed wide. He pulled back her long bangs,
as if to give me a better view of her mouth descending on his cock. He was
seated a good twenty feet away, but it felt as though it was only inches as I
watched her take him in her lips. She moaned and groaned as if it were her
greatest pleasure to suck his shaft deep into her throat. As she sucked, she
arched into his leg, grinding her naked sex upon his shin. He closed his eyes a
moment and let his head fall back until it rested against the high wooden back
of the chair.

“Yes.
Yes,” he murmured in a deep seductive tone. The bronze strands of the window
coverings seemed to resonate with his murmurings. They sang in a deep vibrating
hum that rolled across my body. The sound tightened my nipples and wet my sex.
It took all my will not to cry out at the feeling pulsing between my legs.

I
watched and just as I became comfortable with the lewd sight before me, it
changed. As if he knew that I was no longer shocked. As if he understood that
this was not enough to rock me, he suddenly changed it all.

He
kicked forth his leg, ungracefully dismounting the sucking woman. She fell back
onto her bottom and looked up at him in delirious expectation. Her lips were
wet and swollen. He raised his hand to her and she came forth on all fours
between his legs with her bottom facing him. She looked up, her eyes pointing
right at me.

I
was watching her face when the first slap hit. While others may have heard the
sharp noise, or seen his hand hit the rounded flesh of her buttocks, I saw it
in the rapturous expression of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, her teeth
sank into her lip, her cheeks flushed and she moaned—moaned at the
feeling of his hand hitting her.

I
had seen many a raised hand in my life—in anger, in frustration, even in
boredom—but I had never seen it in lust. I had never known it could be
this way. My hips rocked of their own accord—in time with his slapping
hand—as if my body had somehow disconnected from my mind. I was now wet
down to my thighs, the thin fabric of my drawers stuck to my skin.

The
woman on all fours rocked to meet his slapping palm. She threw her head back
and gasped with each contact. His cock bobbed with each hit, sometimes bumping
the rosy slapped skin of her bottom. I was suddenly overcome by an urge to see
him erupt on that spanked pink curve. To watch his seed spurt.

As
if he knew. As if he could see into my very soul he ceased his slapping looked
up at me and smiled. Then his hand wrapped around his shaft, his thumb slipping
across the plump wet head. He stroked down slowly his eyes on me. He nodded
once again I didn’t know why until I felt the Chosen woman’s hand come around
my body and slip down my bodice. Cool air hit my bared breasts and I realized
that she had somehow cut open my gown. I was standing half naked with my
drawers—sheer with wetness—stuck to the lips of my sex.

My
breasts hung heavy, my nipples pearled tight, throbbing with the need to be
touched. The hand that had sliced open my bodice came up to cup my breast. She
squeezed hard, rougher than anyone had ever touched me before. Her fingers dug
into the soft flesh, her finger tips finding my nipple, squeezing in time with
his stroking hand.

Up
and down he pulled on his shaft. It seemed bigger, longer, harder than before
and then suddenly it erupted, pouring out jets of milky white cum across the
pink curve of the kneeling woman’s arse.

The
fingers on my nipples squeezed tight, past the point of pain into an
indescribable pleasure—a piercing feeling of need that shot through my
body and exploded between my legs. Clenching, gushing wet surges of pleasure
gripped my sex. I bucked, held up only by the Chosen woman who hooked her hands
beneath my arms. When the spasms finally ceased I looked down to see what had
happened. My drawers were completely wet, stuck to my body from knee to thigh
as if I had wet myself.

Shame
coursed through my body and chuckles filled the room in stereo. From behind and
in front the deep humming laughter came.

I
looked down, afraid to meet the eyes of the Candidates around me who had
witnessed my shame.

“Look
up,” the Chosen woman commanded and despite my will not to, I followed her
order. She waved her hand at the other Candidates and barked out an order. “Bow
down. All will kneel.”

She
stripped the torn gown off my shoulders and then as she had before she somehow
sliced through the seams of my drawers. They peeled away, falling slowly from
my damp skin to the floor. I was naked other than my knee stockings and boots
which the Chosen woman ordered the nearest Candidate to remove. It was the
blond girl, the one in shimmering silver who had danced. She knelt at my feet
and I briefly met her eyes. Her cheeks stained red with embarrassment and she
looked away. She uncurled my stockings from my legs and removed my boots
without looking at me again.

“Come
to me.” He curled his fingers, beckoning me forward.

I
didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to walk naked in front of all the other
Candidates. I wanted to crawl up in a ball, cover myself and hide.

Despite
my internal protest my body moved forward. My limbs slow and heavy as if moving
through a snow drift. The ribbon bound woman had moved back between his legs,
curling up like a favored pet.

Exposed,
I stood before him, one step away. Naked in front of strangers, my mind
rebelled but my body did nothing. I should have quaked with fear. I should have
trembled before those who controlled my destiny, but I didn’t. Instead I
throbbed. My hips rocking forward of their own accord, my sex wet once more.

A
hand came to rest on my lower back. The Chosen woman had her hand right on the
curve where my back met my bottom. The same fingers that had been so brutal on
my nipple moved in slow soft circles caressing me gently. The hand slipped down
over the curve, her fingers searching between. In the crease of my arse they
pushed, spreading and probing, brushing over the pucker of my asshole before
plunging into the wet heat of my sex. I cried out, part in pleasure and part in
shock.

“Finally,”
she whispered, her sweet breath warming the shell of my ear, “I’ve been waiting
to hear your cries.”

“Me
too, sister,” the Chosen man said from his seat and I wondered how he could
have heard her soft whisper.

I
felt the vibration of the Chosen woman’s chuckle as her fingers slipped in the
sticky residue of my shameful sex. I bit the inside of my mouth and even more
wetness dripped as her fingers played between my swollen lips. She plucked at
my center, fingering my clitoris. It built so quickly, the vibrating need that
had overcome me before.