Ritual

CODE: D (set in the D Is For Damien storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): NA/out of continuity

PAIRING: Luther Broderick/Selena/Stacie (M/F/F)

EXPLANATION: This piece is a departure from just about every single other one of my erotic pieces in that I wrote this one with an audience in mind. And I didn't really want to. And it backfired, big time. :/ I'm still confused, honestly. After settling comfortably into writing primarily M/F and M/M pieces, with the occasional M/M/F threesome, I grew disillusioned to learn that many more readers seem to enjoy F/F or M/F/F threesome pieces--which I pretty much do NOT write. (Sorry, but lesbian erotica does nada for me.) Irritated by the lack of interest in my yaoi (that's a nicer term for M/M erotica), I decided to write a M/F/F threesome for a change and see what sort of attention it garnered. I freely admit that this piece is subpar, since I did not write it for myself, and thus did not really enjoy writing it--and I think it showed. When I first posted it under a pseudonym, I was surprised when it got average-to-low ratings and lots of negative criticism, compared to the rest of my pieces. (To quote one reader who had enthusiastically rated one of my other pieces: "There is nothing in this that is even remotely good"--one star.) I had honestly expected people to love it just because it featured what they wanted--two women getting it on. (With a guy in there for taste.) Maybe I should be happy that I was proven wrong? Yeah, there's STILL very little audience for my yaoi, and tons of readers for OTHER people's F/F pieces...but at least I have yet to be told that the rest of my pieces suck as much as this one does. >_< Lesson learned: Write what you LIKE, not what you think OTHERS will like--'cause chances are, they WON'T, and what's more, YOU won't like it either! Why not check out "After Dinner" for an older M/F/F threesome piece which I did NOT write with an audience in mind and see if it's any better...? Or, better yet, check out the Ameni Chronicles, Parts 12, 13, 16, 17, and 51 for M/F/F or M/F+ groupings, or Parts 32, 41, and 63 for HOT LESBIAN ACTION which I actually ENJOYED writing. (To describe what exactly is going ON in this piece...I have no clue. It's the high priest Luther, and the high priestess Selena, and some lady named Stacie who I just made up...the Scorpio cult doesn't even practice ceremonies like this...I really had no idea what I was doing. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.)

DISCLAIMERS: I prefer to pretend that this scene never happened. Plug ears sing la la la.

* * * * *

Ritual

Stacie trembled, the stone of the altar smooth and cold against her back and legs. She wore a robe, but it was spread open, its long ends hanging down the sides of the stone she lay upon. Her breasts and the area between her legs were bared to the warm air, and a flush rose in her face. Hundreds of people stood in the room before her, staring up at her.

She shut her eyes briefly and thought of what had led to this. He'd requested that she be brought to him, a few nights ago. As a woman, she'd never had any interaction with him before...why had he been so interested in her now? She didn't care to question. When he called, one never refused. She'd felt a thrill run down her spine as the guards led her to his room. He'd called her! If he'd called her for what she hoped he had...then this was the greatest honor she could ever hope to receive. How she prayed that she was right...

When she'd arrived, he hadn't been alone. She had been there, also; why had Stacie expected her to be gone? She felt slightly uncomfortable with the other woman watching her as he approached, yet she said and did nothing, just sat where she was and watched them with a lazy look. Stacie turned back to him, the guards leaving the three of them alone, just as he reached her and took hold of her face. Her heart leapt in her chest and his mouth pressed to hers. She'd been right! She wanted to touch him when he touched her, his tongue probing at hers and his hands caressing down her neck, but she didn't dare. She opened her eyes. At the other side of the room, the woman tilted her head with an amused look.

He pulled away from her mouth and Stacie fought to catch her breath. Her insides were quivering. "We can't do this tonight," he said in a low voice, and she felt everything sink in disappointment. He touched one finger to her lips and smiled slightly, causing her to shiver again in memory. He must have something else in mind.

"Saturday night," he said. "At the ceremony."

That was when she'd had to leave...yet she'd left with her heart rising even more than it had before. At the ceremony! Every one of them would be there to witness it...could he really mean it? Why her? Would she even be able to go through with it...?

She had to. For him, for herself, for them all. Less than an hour ago, a few of the other women had removed her clothes, donning her with the ceremonial robe which at first covered her so well, but now covered her very little. She trembled harder as she listened to the music and the murmured chanting. She'd been given a drug to heighten the experience, and all of the colors seemed more vibrant than usual. She could hear, feel, taste every single little thing in the room that there was to hear, feel, and taste. A cool breeze wafted over her naked skin and she shivered; a shadow rose beside her, then another, and looking up she saw--him--looking down at her. He wore his own robe, and the ritual mask designed to look like a goat's head, so his face was hidden; yet somehow she found herself excited beyond measure. Beside him came the high priestess, also wearing a goat's-head mask. Their robes were black, trimmed in red and gold; they both looked down at her and she struggled to keep her breathing even.

The chanting grew slightly louder. Stacie lay still, as she knew she was expected to do...for now she served simply as the altar, and had nothing else to do but that. The two in the masks began to light a series of candles around her. She thought of the other times she had been to the Saturday night ceremony, and groaned inwardly. She would be lying here for so long, with him near...unable to do a thing. There was more to the ceremony, of course, than what she'd been waiting for. She didn't want to wait; he was so close to her, leaning over to light one of the candles so his robe brushed against hers, sending a shiver through her; if she reached up, insubordinately, to touch him, would he accept her? Or slap her away?

Stacie didn't try. It was best to lie still and wait.

The candles were all lit. The two in the masks stood behind the altar and faced the large gathering, all of the rest of them dressed in black robes, their hoods pulled back now that they were together in the privacy of the room. The dagger and the chalice were brought out and placed upon her; she had to struggle again not to shiver at the feel of the cold metal upon her. The drug, which had cleared things so much before, now just served to haze her mind in her boredom; she didn't want to go through with all of this, just to be with him. She let her mind drift as the ceremony began...the recitations, the chanting from the other worshippers, the dipping of the athame into the chalice and the tracing of the cool wet blade over her skin. She was so far gone by now that she didn't even tremble at the feel of it, her eyes glazing. He didn't once look her in the face after the ceremony had begun, but she didn't mind. She knew that what she was waiting for would come, eventually.

The chanting throbbed in the back of her head, rising and falling...rising and falling...the tempo of it made her feel hot, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. The chalice was removed from her, and she noticed the high priestess glance down as if to see how she might be doing. She then did something unexpected, tilting the cup and pouring its contents slowly over Stacie's belly, down toward her legs. Stacie gasped and jerked as the fluid trickled over her--she'd never remembered this part of the ceremony. Had it been a mistake?--a change?--or had she simply never paid attention before? The others gathered below seemed to take no note of it, so she lay confused, wondering what it could have meant.

He continued talking, saying something to the worshippers below; his behavior indicated nothing amiss. The high priestess turned away as well. Stacie's breath slowed as the liquid cooled over her. Everyone raised their hands and chanted more loudly, and still he spoke, but she couldn't understand a word being said anymore. Was it the drug? Everything sounded like pure gibberish, so when the two in the masks both looked down at her at once, she had no idea what to expect. If they'd stated their intentions, she hadn't understood them. What was wrong with her all of a sudden?

The chanting died down to a dull murmur, a faint throb in the back of her head. Stacie's eyelids drooped. They flitted up again when she felt his touch against her shoulder. Her heart began to pound--the ceremony must be nearing its climax. At last! Yet he pulled away from her, and the high priestess took his place. Stacie stared up at her in some confusion when she traced her hand down Stacie's belly, stopping at her legs; she let out a startled gasp when she felt cool fingers press against her, splaying her open and slipping inside. What was this about--? It wasn't going to be him after all? She'd never heard of anything like this before. What the woman was doing did feel good--her breath quickened and her thigh muscles tightened at the sensation--yet she couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of disappointment. She'd wanted to be with him.

The high priestess leaned down and her lips met Stacie's. Instinctively, Stacie opened her mouth to accept her kiss, shutting her eyes and whimpering softly. Despite her disappointment, pleasure coursed through her body. The room fell into almost complete silence, and she knew that the others were watching them intently, yet didn't care. Shyness wasn't permitted here. The high priestess ran her other hand down Stacie's side, caressing her hip; her other hand slid in and out, slowly, increasing slightly in speed. Stacie had grown slick on first seeing the high priest arrive, but now it only increased. She panted softly when the other woman pulled away, trying not to squirm at the growing motion inside her. Her whimpering grew; a thumb rubbed against her in just the right spot, sending a jolt up her spine and causing her hips to buck. She cried out loud, though she hadn't intended to, and came abruptly, her body forming an arch over the altar. Just as abruptly it was over--the fingers withdrawing from her--and she fell back with a thud, gasping weakly. She heard a faint letting out of breath from the gathered worshippers, and knew that they'd enjoyed the spectacle even more than she had. Her eyes opened and she tilted her head to the side to look out over them. Though they all still wore their robes, as was proper, a few of the men had slipped one hand beneath the cloth, or else grasped themselves in front, stroking just slightly. A few of the women who were allowed to attend stood with a flush in their cheeks. Stacie knew that they awaited what would come after the ceremony...but for now, for her, the ceremony was what mattered most.

For now, he stepped forward again, tilting his head to look down at her. Her breath picked up again when she realized that she would get what she'd wished for after all. An odd feeling rose in her breast, and when his fingers flitted lightly over her belly, as the priestess's had, she arched, just for him, begging silently for what was to come. He leaned down and kissed her, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, draw him close; but she couldn't. His kiss was so brief...he pulled away from her before she was ready, and she moaned in despair...then she gasped and arched again to feel it return, against the inside of her thigh, rising upward toward her most secret place. A tiny rivulet of wine trickled from her belly down to where he was now nuzzling at her, one hand parting her legs; she felt his tongue lick it up and moaned a second time, her fingernails clawing against the stone. A mouth met hers; the high priestess kissed and caressed her while her mate licked and bit gently between Stacie's legs, and now she did reach up, to embrace the priestess and not the priest, and heard a collective sigh arise from the gathered worshippers. He held her legs down, as they'd started to writhe; instead she ran her hands up and down the priestess's back and murmured into her mouth, very much enjoying their combined ministrations.

She no longer cared at all that so many were watching, some of them getting excited doing so; when she opened her eyes just a slit, peering to her right to see them, she noticed a few of them breaking the sacredness of the ceremony, moving slowly to stand near the back of the room, women--or men--pulling up their robes in back and pressing against the other men leaning against the wall. And they shut their eyes and swayed slightly with their mouths hanging open, ankles twining, hands questing back to grasp tensing buttocks, other hands questing forward to clutch in front, the thighs of the women, the swollen members of the men, through their robes. Only a few dared do this, so blatantly, in public; yet no attention was paid to them by the rest, who cared little if they broke the rules. They were too absorbed in what was happening upon the altar. Stacie swallowed, throat suddenly dry; the high priestess pulled away from her one last time and the high priest took her place, his hand lightly squeezing Stacie's breast. She stared up at him through glazed eyes, wet lips parted slightly. Below the bottom of the mask, she saw him smile.

He bent down. His mouth enveloped hers. Stacie let out a long, loud moan, into him, and her fingers clawed the altar. His fingers tweaked her nipple, causing her to jerk. The high priestess started to murmur another chant, which those gathered below picked up and began to murmur themselves. Stacie could barely hear them over the buzzing in her head. She wanted to hold him, to stroke him, to welcome him into her. She whimpered softly.

"Please," she whispered, and it was all that she could force out, all that her voice would allow.

It was enough. He parted her robe further, running his hands up and down her smooth pale body, palms rough against her skin so she shivered. He traced a delicate line down her belly, stopping just before the touch could drive her mad; then she noticed him step back and start to undo his own robe in front, letting it fall open. She sucked in a breath. He was naked beneath it, his lean muscles tensed; he rose up and out stiffly, larger than any she'd seen before. He came toward her, placed his hand upon the altar next to her...pushed himself up...came down again, straddling her thighs. Her breath came in quick spurts as he sat on his haunches, his tip just barely prodding against her moist opening, though he did not enter her just yet. If only he would! This ritual was driving her insane!

Instead, he leaned down once more, his hands upon her hips, and placed his tongue against the rim of her navel. He ran it up, over her abdomen to between her breasts, so slowly that her whole body vibrated from the tension. His tongue traced over the mound of her right breast then, and his mouth enveloped her nipple, teeth scoring gently. His hands ran up her sides as he did this, his body coming down over hers ever so slowly. He paused to mouth her other breast, then worked up to her neck, chin, cheek. His tongue trailed over her ear, then across her face, finally to her mouth. Their lips met and she finally reached out her hands to clasp him tightly, arching and moaning. The chanting just grew louder and more urgent in anticipation of what was to come.

Stacie ran her hands down his back to grasp his buttocks, then fumbled to slip her fingers beneath his robe. She touched his bare skin and her trembling increased. His own fingers gently palpated her opening and she spread her legs wide, bending her knees to form a hollow between them, silently begging him to enter. The chanting rose. Aside from the actions of the high priestess, she'd never had anyone inside her before. She prayed that it would at last happen now.

He drew his hand away from her and grasped hold of her thighs. Stacie took a breath and tilted her head back, breasts rising. She felt his thighs warm against her own, and he bore slowly down and forward, driving himself up and in. She gasped and arched anew, muscles stiffening and a harsh cry escaping her as the chanting burst out loud around her. She felt him slide inside deeply, piercing through her so her blood flowed and slickened him, until he had gone as far as he could go and their hips met. With this union her muscles again relaxed and she went limp beneath him, panting weakly; the crowd sighed anew, their faces rapturous. The high priestess began a new chant, and they took this one up as well, their voices low again. He placed his hands beside her to support himself, his knees keeping her spread, and with a heavy pant began to thrust. His robe slipped forward to shield their bodies from view, but their shifting motions, she knew, were evident. The chanting began to grow louder, but it only grew hazier in her mind; over it all she could hear his breathing as he worked, smell his sweat and her blood, feel his heat. She didn't know if it was the drug or her own desire, but whatever it was, it made her shiver and moan in lust.

He didn't kiss her as he moved, nor did he caress her body. She knew that this was merely the way the ritual went. All kissing and touching was only in preparation; the act itself was a sacred one, to demonstrate her usefulness to them all, to show that he accepted her as a full member. Not all women received such recognition; in fact, most of them didn't. Which was why she recognized the honor of this, of making love to the high priest. She let go of him now, also recognizing his superiority, and let her arms fall to her sides, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. Her thighs still hugged his own, but that was all. He was in command here, and she submitted completely, letting him do as he wished. It was only proper.

She turned her head lazily to the side to again view those who watched. More of them, now, were excited beyond measure; hardly anyone stood without fondling themselves, their own eyes glazed and their mouths hanging slack as they murmured the chant. Even more of them, also, had retreated to the back of the room, one or two with their robes pulled up to completely bare their hips as they moved, their groans even managing to reach her upon the altar. She spotted one man tossing his head back and moving his mouth, his hands running up and down over his groin and phallus, another man clasping him about the waist with their ankles locked, shoving up into him from behind. Not too far from them, a woman and a man were likewise engaged, the woman dropping her head forward and slipping her fingers between her legs to touch the man who grunted as he pushed into her. A few of them stroked or touched themselves rapidly, faces strained, and she could tell that they awaited with impatience the climax of the ceremony, when they would have to restrain themselves no longer.

She awaited it too, with dread and with longing. Longing that she was at last to feel him, all of him; dread that it would come far too soon. She wanted to couple with him forever...

Already, this was not possible. He moved faster now, his tempo picking up and his breath doing the same. She whimpered softly and tensed. The high priestess was one of the few who didn't touch herself, managing to hold herself in; yet Stacie knew that she too was aroused, simply by watching. She marveled over their control, how cool they both remained in spite of the heat in the room, the fire passing between them. His breath came husky against her face and she squirmed, shifting her hips. She forced herself to keep from touching him, though her body burned to.

Please, please, come in me, come--!

She straightened her knees, twined her ankles about his. He gained further leverage and began to plunge now, deeply, rapidly. Stacie moaned loudly and stiffened. The chanting grew louder, rising, rising as the heat and pressure inside her did, and she recognized her climax coming on, even though she had never felt one with a man before. Her muscles bunched and a high whine rose in her throat as his hips pressed repeatedly to hers, his sac slapping softly against her. His panting was an aphrodisiac; she wished that he would let out some animal noise, like the men in the back, just to show her how much he enjoyed her--

He bent low and she could see his mouth beneath the goat mask, his teeth when they bared in an almost silent snarl. His hips very nearly slammed against her own, pinning her down tight. She felt his buttocks clench and then heard the abrupt expulsion of his breath when he came, searing hot inside her. With this Stacie screamed and arched, the chant rising to a crescendo all around her as he tossed back his head, the act complete.

Almost immediately the men and women turned to each other, embracing and kissing and touching, some lifting their robes, some shedding them entirely. Some of them hurried away from the room, but most stayed, either moving toward the walls or simply lying down right where they were, upon the floor in view of everyone else. Men hurried to push down women, straddling their waists; other men hiked up their robes and knelt upon all fours, spreading their buttocks and inviting their fellows close. With a chorus of ragged moans and grunts and sighs some entered, and some accepted, submitting to their partners' thrusting. Within moments the floor of the sacred ceremonial room became a living, writhing orgy of flesh, those who had not discarded their robes in the first place doing so now and rolling about nakedly, hands roaming wildly. Stacie couldn't understand what exact words they said to each other, but their speech was overjoyed and pleasured, so she knew that they were satisfied with this ceremony.

As was she...

She lay panting weakly, her muscles loose. The high priest lowered his head, his own breath coming fast; he stayed inside and above her for a moment before very slowly sliding out, earning another whimper. The high priestess leaned down to lightly kiss Stacie on the lips, and then the high priest followed suit, only his kiss was longer, more intimate. He allowed his tongue to trail over her teeth for a moment before pulling his head away. His hand stroked her cheek.

"Th...thank...you..." Stacie whispered, voice faint. She could barely open her eyes to even look at him. He smiled and touched her again.

"It is you we chose to honor tonight. All should thank you, for giving occasion for this ceremony." He kissed her again, but this time, his voice came right beside her ear, slightly hoarse with fading lust and his own tiredness.

"We will be together again, in my room, tonight. You may join us should you wish."

Stacie opened her eyes and shivered wildly. She couldn't believe what he was saying, yet saying it he was. The ritual was over--but now he was inviting her back with him! Granted...the high priestess would be with him, first of all. But was he considering taking her as another of his women? Stacie, a servant of the high priest?

She trembled and couldn't stop the smile from beaming across her face, her arms reaching up to loop about his neck, now that nobody below, in the moaning writhing mass, was paying any attention. "Yes!" she whispered. "I would be honored. So honored!"

His mouth twitched in a smile and he tweaked her nipple, earning a gasp.

"It is hardly about honor anymore...though we'll see what we can do." He pressed his mouth lightly to her forehead...and then he was gone. He raised himself from her, his robe falling about him to shield his limpness, his hand pulling up hers to shield her own body. Somehow, the cloth covering her skin in his presence made her feel colder, not warmer, and she shook in renewed disappointment. The high priestess helped her sit up from the altar, swinging her legs back down to the floor; she stood and wobbled in an attempt to regain her strength, trying her best to ignore the growing noises of the orgy all around her, the orgy she wasn't a part of.

It didn't matter. She would be with him again. Just as she had prayed. She couldn't stop her muscles from quaking as she was led away from the now-busy ceremonial room, to wash and dress herself properly for her next chance. He glanced at her briefly, goat features unchanging, as she was led slowly from the room.

A small smile came to Stacie's lips when she thought of what they might decide to do later on, in his bed. Whatever it was...now that she'd felt him within her, and knew a little of what to expect, it was bound to be everything that she'd hoped it would be.

She couldn't wait.

Please REVIEW if you rate.
Please DO NOT rate if you won't review.
Thank you!

This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.

Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.