The exhausted, well pleasured young woman hung helplessly on the frame as the native women completed their tasks. As she watched them, Margie was reminded of the three witches in Shakespeare, toiling about their cauldron, brewing a boon and a curse for the Scottish thane.
The priestess instructed one of the other women to do something and the old woman left the hut. She retuned a few moments later with a young, immensely pregnant young woman in tow. Her small breasts were full to burst and her belly rode out in front of her like a porch. She smiled bashfully at the trussed up, white woman and then obediently knelt by the bowl in which the three women had been mixing their brew. She shimmied over close to it and the priestess, after stroking her head gently, took one of her breasts in her hand and began to stroke it. She tugged playfully several times on the nipple and then, wrapping her hand around the tit’s base, began to give it strong, but gentle pulls. Margie watched in amazement as milk began to spurt into the bowl from the young woman’s breast at each downward tug of the priestess’s hand. The girl seemed to be relieved at the pressure on her teat and sighed as her breast was emptied. When the flow of milk slowed to a stop, the process was repeated on her other breast. Once that supply of milk had been exhausted, the priestess pulled the girl’s head up and gave her a sweet kiss on her plump lips. The girl smiled and then rose and ambled carefully from the hut.
Margie’s head had largely cleared from the entrancing smoke the old woman had made her inhale and she had begun to wonder whether the experience of the priestess virtually inhabiting her body had been a drug induced hallucination. It had seemed so real, but defied her civilized, rational ideas of reality. As her senses came back into focus, she became aware once more of the dull, painful aches in her arms, shoulders and thighs. Every time that she moved her head, a wave of unhappiness flowed through her as she felt the breeze on her scalp where her hair used to be. Although the old woman’s demeanor had been kindly, her continued cruel bondage denoted her continued servile status and the likelihood that more unhappiness was in store for her.
She watched as the three old women put the final touches to the concoction they had been mixing. The priestess dipped a finger in it and put it to her lips. Her body swayed and her eyelids fluttered a she absorbed the drop of milky, white fluid. She held herself still for a moment, her eyes shut tight, and then she opened them and smiled. She gave both of the other women a taste and they both gave the same overwhelmed reaction. The priestess dropped a wad of yellowed, grassy leaves in the mixture and swilled them around until they were heavily laden with the fluids. She rolled the leaves up and squeezed the excess fluids from them until they were formed into a compact ball a little smaller than her fist. One of the other women handed her a pliant, yellowed, filmy object that looked somewhat like a small balloon. The priestess opened the balloon at one end and stuffed the ball into it. When the ball was inside, stretching the balloon-like object tautly, she tied off its end. Then, taking a sharp sliver of bone, she poked four tiny holes in it allowing the liquid held by the ball inside to start to seep out.
Margie realized with a start that the balloon wasn’t a balloon at all, but some small creature’s stomach. She could see vein like ridges on its stretched surface. When the women approached her, she understood its purpose. She frowned with dismay and began to plead unhappily.
“Please don’t put that inside me, please,” she said miserably. She knew full well that the women probably did not understand her words, but she hoped that they would understand their import. “I’ll be quiet, I promise,” she said desperately. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please, don’t, please.”
The women ignored their distraught captive’s entreaties and while her two acolytes forced her jaws apart, the priestess pressed the soft, taut balloon over Margie’s lips. It rode against her teeth and then plopped inside.
Margie received the effects of the drug in the mixture like a blast to her mind and body. She sagged in her bonds and her jaw grew slack. The old women had swooned at the consumption of a mere drop of it and ten fold of that was seeping from the filled, round bladder in her mouth. She tried desultorily to push the offensive object from between her lips with her tongue, but the women wrapped a wide leather thong over her mouth and tied it off in the back of her head. Her vision went dark as another broad, leather thong was tied around her eyes.
There was no way that Margie could determine how long she knelt there, her mind swooning and her body tingling with the effects of the drug laced mixture. She knew that there was activity in the hut as she heard the humored voices of some of the women as they came and went. Her pussy began to burn with need and her teats yearned for touch. Her skin radiated all over her. She drifted off now and then into a sleepy, mesmerized state only to jerk awake as a breeze floated across her highly sensitized skin or at the sound of one of the women’s voices.
She had fallen into a dozed state when she felt the frame behind her being lifted from the floor. She moaned with pain as her arm and leg muscles strained. But the simple movement of her mouth caused more of the liquid to seep from the pin holed ball in her mouth and a fresh wave of excitement flowed over her body and through her mind.
Outside the hut, darkness had fallen and the compound was lit by the recently fully reconstituted moon. The villagers had gathered and were chatting and laughing gleefully. It was not every day that there was a ceremony and the break in the otherwise monotonous routine of village life was welcome. Besides, the arrival of the white woman was an event of great portent and everyone was looking forward to the good fortune she would bring. A large fire had been built up in the middle of the compound. Three of the men were pounding rhythmically on drums and another two were playing on long, melodious flutes. Several of the women had brought out special, grooved sticks, rattles and other percussion instruments and were keeping time merrily with the compelling beat. The children had all been put to bed in the community hut, for tonight’s entertainment was going to be strictly for adults.
Margie heard the harmonious noise of the native instruments as she was carried across the compound. She moaned as the strain on her discomforted shoulders and thighs intruded on the feverish excitement of her body brought on by the strange concoction locked into her mouth. The old witches brought Margie’s frame to the front of the fire, about 15’ away from it and between it and the crowd. They fastened it into a hole similar to the one in the women’s hut. Margie gave a little grunt as she felt the frame drop into place.
It was time for the ceremony to begin. The priestess waved her hands and clapped them together for silence. She stepped over to the white captive and removed the wide thong that had covered her eyes. When she moved to the side to give the crowd a good view, the people gave shouts of approval and clapped their hands noisily.
Margie blinked her eyes and took in a deep breath as she saw the people of the village arrayed in front of her. She could feel the warmth of the fire behind her and the light shone and danced on the faces of the kneeling crowd, giving their faces fierce, demonic miens. Her mind was befogged, but she was alert enough to be struck through with an intense pang of fear. She moaned with unhappiness as she saw that each of the native women was wearing a skein of her recently shorn beautiful, blond locks tied decoratively onto their hair. The old man had promised her a nefarious end should she disappoint the villagers, but had she sinned so grievously already? She struggled at the bonds that held her fast to the frame and began to sob. The movements of her mouth caused another stream of the befuddling fluids to seep out of the bulging bladder and she quickly forgot her dismay as a wave of pleasure and excitement passed through her body.
The old priestess began a chant. The repeated rhythms of the ancient poetry were soon taken up by the primitive band. The crowd then joined her. Within a few minutes, the crowd had gotten up from their knees and started swaying and clapping their hands, singing and moving in time with the familiar refrains.
Through her befogged brain, Margie realized that she was witnessing a ritual probably old as time itself. She tried to bring herself to full attentiveness, but the mind numbing liquid that continued to seep into the pores of her mouth drove her to distraction. Her body felt like it was about to explode with sexual need. She strained fruitlessly to free her bound hands so that she could stroke her fevered slit. She yanked and pulled at the confinements that held her knees widely splayed in the hopes of being able to press her tingling thighs together.
A man and woman separated themselves form the crowd and approached the priestess. She was holding the bowl that contained the witches’ brew and she dipped a stick into it and then let several large drops fall into the mouths of first the woman and then the man. The couple swayed and closed their eyes as their bodies absorbed the potion and then the woman dragged the man to a spot between the white captive and the crowd and they began to dance.
Margie had never seen anything so sensuous. The man was broad-chested and tall for the men of the tribe and in his youth. His arms were strong and his thighs muscular. The woman, young as well, was slender and graceful. Her breasts bobbed smoothly as she danced. Her face was long and her lips full. Her belly curved enticingly down to the well of her sex. The couple rubbed their bodies together and caressed each other’s flesh. Their movements were slow and deliberate and in perfect rhythm with the beat of the primitive orchestra. The woman placed her lips on the man’s chest and began to kiss his torso feverishly, running her hands over his hips and thighs. She dipped her knees and mouthed the length of the man’s hardening cock never losing her body’s swaying movements in time with the mesmerizing beat. When she stood, the man returned the favor, kissing the woman’s stiffened nipples and then, crouching before her, burying his face in her loins.
Since the fire was behind the couple, their figures appeared to the audience as dark shadows, simulacrums of the human form. The darkness and obscurity of their shapes made them appear ghost like, reminiscent of the spirits and ghosts that ruled the tribe’s lives. After they had danced for about three minutes, their excitement rising higher and higher, the priestess advanced and, after squeezing Margie’s cheeks to ensure that she received a blast of the potion’s effects, removed the bladder from her mouth.
This was the signal for the impassioned couple to approach the white captive. The woman knelt before the man and, placing her lips on his cock, pleasured him into rigidity. She then stood and, with one hand, guided his firm, thick manhood to the white woman’s lips while the other took hold of her pale cheeks and squeezed them until Margie’s mouth formed into a little ‘o’. With a thrust of his hips, the man slid his cock across Margie’s distended lips and entered her.
Margie’s mind literally short circuited as the man’s cock brought a welcome, exciting heat to her mouth. She grasped the meaty pole with her lips and scoured its surface with her eager tongue. The man stood before her, gently and rhythmically stroking his long, fat cock along her pursed lips. Margie closed her eyes and moaned. In a remote, still conscious corner of her mind, she protested against her callous treatment, denigrated herself for her surrender to the fierce fire that burnt inside her. But when the woman knelt next to her man and slid her hand over Margie’s distended and vulnerable pudenda, all reticence at enjoyment of her sexual delight passed away.
The woman’s fingers busily stroked the white woman’s quim as the man continued his strokes in her mouth. Margie realized that she was participating in some kind of ancient fertility rite. She represented the earth itself, passive, recumbent, and the man was planting his seed in her. The woman was making the ground, i.e. Margie, receptive to him. Despite her acute arousal and her dire predicament, Margie experienced a mild sense of amusement as she imagined explaining her participation in this rite to her colleagues at the University of Chicago.
But the thought quickly passed as the effects of the stiff, salty member in her mouth and the agile hand at her loins soon drove the young, white woman into a state of delirious arousal. She sucked hungrily at the pleasure giving rod and attempted, futilely, to push her hips at the hand that was skillfully and delicately caressing her cunt. When the man’s cock began to throb and pulse within her, her pussy began a series of intense, pleasurable contractions. She moaned and her body shook in her bindings as the man’s juices flooded her mouth. She swallowed them joyfully, relishing the taste and smell of the man’s meat. When the cock, its rigidity fading, withdrew across her lips and the hand that was tormenting her pussy left her, Margie gave out a long, satisfied moan.
But if she thought that she had sated the fires that had been lit by the potion the priestess had given her she was mistaken. After a few moments, the ache of sexual need returned to her and she began again to writhe and moan in her bindings. The priestess forced open her lips and returned the bladder containing the concoction that she had brewed to the unhappy woman’s mouth and gave her cheeks another squeeze. Another couple got up to dance and a wave of desire passed through the captive woman.
Chapter Eleven
Destiny
The priestess let the white captive sleep all the next day. She awoke, groggy, her body limp, her sex aching, just about at dusk. The old woman had Margie drink a refreshing, flavored beverage and then escorted her outside so that she could relieve herself in the forest away from the village. When she brought her back, she lay her down again on the smooth, soft black animal skin and coaxed her back to sleep.