by Lexi Lane
He pulled away. His cock came out of her mouth with a loud pop that made her giggle. She stopped giggling almost immediately though when his hands slid between her legs and his fingers began to stroke her labia and clit.
Heat burst through her. All of the passion she had felt when she masturbated had been pale ghosts compared to the fire that tore through her at his touch. Fluids ran from her pussy, dripped down her ass crack and she wriggled her ass, hoping to get more of him.
There was a loud bellow and she looked over to see Asterion pawing the earth and stomping in impatience. He wants me so badly, she thought and for some reason that made her even hotter. Her nipples tightened almost painfully and her ass lifted off of the pallet, her wet slit opening below Minos’ fingers. He drove into her several times, opening her and stretching her wider by adding more fingers.
Her walls grew more slippery with each movement and her eyes closed, her breath catching in her throat as friction built inside her. Minos positioned himself between her legs and she had time to utter a sharp scream and then he was inside her. The pain was quick and as bright as lightning but the pleasure overrode it, made it seem small. His enormous cock forced its way deeper into her tunnel and she grunted, her legs opening wider and her legs wrapping around his waist. Shocks spilled through her as she came, again and again, lubricating her tight channel so that he could fuck her more easily.
Minos pumped his hips, moving in and out of her faster and faster. Just when a second orgasm began to drift toward her he stopped. Her eyes flew open as he withdrew momentarily and then flipped her over. She was on her knees, her ass high in the air. Little tendrils of cold air caressed her exposed mound and she heard him sniffing and blowing behind her. His tongue snaked out and she screeched with pleasure as it found the hardened bud of her clit.
She was so absorbed in the feeling Minos was creating in her she forgot to pay attention and so when Asterion suddenly knelt in front of her, yanked her face up by her hair and stuffed her face full of his own cock she was too close to coming to protest. Her eyes squeezed shut as she sucked and licked the heavy weight of his member.
Behind her Minoa seemed to be getting turned on by the sight of her sucking Asterion’s cock because he mounted her, his hands spreading her ass cheeks wide. He drove into her hard and without mercy. If she had not been impaled on Asterion’s prick she would have fallen flat on her face, as it was it caused her to deep throat the dick she was sucking.
She had always felt the ache of that emptiness and now it was filled, filled in a way she could not even understand but loved. Her legs opened wider and her ass cheeks jiggled under the force of Minos’ thrusts.
Hot seed spurted from his cock. She could feel it, feel the hard pulses of his cock made as he came deep inside her pink folds. He gasped and thrust into her a few more times, she arched her back, anxious for the orgasm she had felt building to crest but he grew flaccid and pulled away, leaving her hungry for more.
Not for long though. Asterion pulled out of her mouth and moved behind her. His fingers held her hips and lifted them higher in the air. He did not kneel as Minos had so her body was hanging at a terrifying angle, her fingers just barely sweeping the ground. The fear and the feel of his stiffened member inside her combined to create lust so powerful that by his second thrust she was coming in large spurting waves that left her breathless but still wanting more of it.
Asterion grunted and groaned as he battered at her pussy’s slick walls. They actually moved forward on the floor, he was practically walking her across it with every driving entry. She was dizzy and moaning, her pussy began to spasm again as yet another orgasm descended and when she felt his cock send out creamy white seed into her she yelled out, “Is that all you have dammit?”
The words shocked her but not as much as the keening need that was still inside if her. The minotaurs went to the fountain and washed, then left. She lay there for a few moments and then reality suck in. She was alone. She got up and dashed into the fountain, gasping at the chill of it. Her clothes were wrecked but she managed to salvage a few things and so, dressed in torn panties and a tee shirt she ran out of the house of the minotaurs.
The tape was still there. The sun had begun to set as she battled her way through the maze and she was close to the end of it, she could see the glimmer of the sea beyond the dense branches when she heard a low bellow. Turning back she saw Minos and Asterion, as well as several others. They were standing in the maze and their cocks were hard, sticking out from their bodies at extreme angles. Her breath caught.
They didn’t move toward her and she stood there, waiting. Long moments passed and she turned away. The bellow came again and she heard the sadness that tinged it, and the heated longing.
“You won’t stop me, will you?” Her voice was low but they all heard it. “You can’t stop me if I leave the maze. The branches she held in her hand had thorns and they pricked her fingers. Beyond the maze she could see Higgins and Gabriel heading for the boat, the sun was setting and they looked so ordinary, so boring. She turned back to the Minotaurs and a grin crossed her lips as she pulled the promise ring from her finger and tossed it to the earth.
“You better know what you’re in for,” she said as she walked back toward them. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be fucked so badly in all my life.”
Two of the minotaurs grinned at each other and the sun sparked off of their horns. “Are you ready to do all that I desire?” she asked sweetly, as she walked past them, her curvy ass swaying. Behind her she heard the clash of their bodies and grinned. It was going to be a long night.
Sacrificial Lamb: Virgin Breeding Erotica
Sacrificial Lamb: Virgin Offering: Virgin Breeding © 2013, Lexi Lane
From a distance the village wore a sleepy prosperous look. Fat sheep dotted the green hills that sloped gently to the river and the houses were all well built from stone. There was a baker, miller and tailor as well as a blacksmith. The stalls of the open air market were not crudely leaning things, they were built of timber and river rock and while the market was closed the alleys in and out of it were clean and bright.
Up close things began to take on a new perspective. Many of the houses had their doors and windows closed tightly, many had a large X on the doors, painted there with river mud. The cows in the pens were skinny, their ribs sticking out, and the shops were all tightly shuttered.
No people walked the streets despite it being close to noon. A sweetly stinking cloud of incense that couldn’t mask the odor of illness and death hung over everything. The tavern sat empty but the town square was populated. Roughly a hundred people, most of them pale and haggard, stood about in frightened clumps. A man in robes of colorful purple material climbed onto the tiny platform and faced the crowd. His round face did not bear the stamp of illness but held a feverish expression nonetheless.
“This plague has been brought down upon us because we have angered the gods!”
A murmur went through the crowd. They had all suspected as much, to hear it from their head priest was to have their suspicions vindicated. They looked at each other, each wondering what his neighbor could have done to bring such a terrifying consequence down upon their heads.
“We have to appease them!”
More murmurs. The faces of those in the crowd took on slightly sly expressions as they began to count in their heads how many sheep, how much grain they had hidden in their homes. Each one began to wonder how they could make a large showing without actually sacrificing more than they could afford.
The priest waved his arms over his head as he began to invoke prayers and praises to the gods. The crowd followed along and soon the sunlit air was split by wails of remorse and cries of piety. People shed their clothes and danced furiously, their feet kicking tiny clods of grass aside, leaving muddy places behind.
The lamentations and praises shot upward, startling a flock of black birds, the birds raced off with raucous cries, their jet colored bodies a blot against
the blue sky.
“Look there!” the priest screeched, “See how evil flies away in the face of our faith!”
Yells of assent followed. Sweat ran off of the dwellers of the tiny and isolated town and the priest raised his large hands once more to the sky and began to sing a prayer in the ancient language. Silence fell. Nobody moved, few dared to breathe. To invoke the ancient prayers was to speak to the gods themselves. Their eyes watched the sky, scanned the hills, looking for an omen of either good or ill to let them know what the gods thought they should do.
Lania was exhausted. Her small kingdom sat by the sea and it had been overtaken by enemies who had swarmed onto the shore in long boats, wearing strange garments and slaughtering all that they saw. She and three others had fled but after many weeks on the road she alone survived. The enemy swarm had not been content to ransack just her kingdom and had taken on the other small outlying villages as well. It seemed everywhere she turned there was only death and destruction. She feared that the small town she could see topping the distant rise had been taken as well but she was too tired to go any further and too starved to do anything more than stagger wearily toward the place.
She could smell the incense and took that as a good sign. The first thing the raiders had done was to steal all of the incense from the temples of her kingdom. She didn’t know why, incense was not expensive nor was it difficult to make. But they seemed incredibly excited by it and they killed all of the priests who protested at their taking things away from the gods.
If they still have incense the raiders have not come yet, or they have tired of it. Either way I need food and rest and shelter. She tugged her white robes, stained with grass and dirt, more tightly around herself. Her jeweled belt and girdle denoted her status as royalty, as did the carved dinner knife in her girdle. She held her head high, determined to do her bloodline credit as she entered the town.
It was mostly silent. A frown creased her brow as she walked past houses that sat there sullenly shuttered and silent. The shops were closed and a dead chicken lay in the gutter. Disgust crossed her face and a sliver of unease tightened her chest.
She heard voices and walked toward them, hope and fear warring within her. She stopped short, stunned by the sight of the people of the village all writhing and swaying to the hypnotic chants coming from the man who stood on the raised platform.
“Show us a sign!” The priest screamed.
I should run. The thought came before action did. She had just turned to flee when the crowd opened and a long appreciative murmur swept through the people there. Fear turned her feet to lead but self-preservation forced her to try. She was no match for them; she had been left weak from the deprivations of her long trek. Faces crowded in, hands tugged and pulled at her clothes, her hair and the foreign language they used buzzed in her ears like
She was carried to the platform and deposited rudely on the wooden planks. Her ass hit so hard a jolt went through her spine and she lost her breath. They crowded in again and she fought to breathe, many of them were unbathed and their reek was nearly overpowering.
Suddenly the meaning of the X’s on the houses came clear. The enemy would not have come here if they had seen those marks as they were the universal sign of plague. She had heard of that symbol but had never seen it before. The villagers stench made more sense to, the smell was out of keeping with the cleanliness of the village so they had not bathed because they feared the plague would touch them if they did. She had heard that too, that bathing could take away the protective oils of the skin.
Terror tingled down her spine. Always fastidious she had bathed in a small streambed just that morning, enjoying the water and the crushed violets and roses she had used to help perfume her body. She had washed her robes as well and allowed them to dry, they had not come clean but at least they did not smell offensive to her nose. Now she wished she hadn’t taken the time to cleanse herself.
“I’ve come all this way to die of the plague?”
The question went unanswered. Nobody seemed to speak her language, Lania switched to a more common language and a few people listened carefully and then spoke back, their dialect a bit different but their words still decipherable.
What they said made her heart sink. Here the plague had decimated the place: thirty of the two hundred dwellers were dead, a large number for such a small village. They had not seen the enemy she spoke of but there had been evidence of riders to the west when they went in search of a cure at a neighboring village. They had seen the dead there but had not stopped to check if they had died of plague or other causes, they were too afraid.
Lania didn’t like the way they all kept eyeing her. There was a sort of assessing greedy look on their faces that made her skin crawl.
“This is the sign we have been waiting for!”
She didn’t understand the words but she understood the sudden relief that appeared on their faces. Whatever was going on, she was about to be a part of it. A woman with a pale face and bulged out brown eyes pressed a hand to her belly, then to her breasts. Lania stared at her, offended and shocked at the same time, when the crone reached for the bottom of her robes Lania punched her dead in the eye. Rather than angering the crone it pleased her, her cracked lips broke into agrin that displayed her broken teeth and pale gums and she said something that made the crowd nod in understanding. The priest grabbed her by her hair and hauled her to her feet. Her scalp tingled and ached and she fought, flailing out blindly at his strong arm. His words boomed out over the crowd and there was a round of applause that froze her blood.
Lania didn’t have time to think, she was dragged through the streets, the villagers running alongside her singing and throwing things at her. She managed to catch a turnip, cradling it in the crook of one arm she tried to use her other hand to protect her face from the refuse they tossed at her.
She was taken to a dim cellar at the foot of the mill. Golden grain lay in plump piles and she laughed a trifle hysterically at that fact as the door locked behind her. She fell to her knees, her hand bringing the turnip to her mouth. Her mind remained a perfect blank while her teeth bit into the starchy vegetable. Her belly let out a low rumble and she crawled over to the grain, trying to figure out how to eat it uncooked.
A small heel of bread, a wedge of creamy boat cheese and bowl of water was shoved into the cell as well as a small pitcher of wine. The wine was darkly red, soured and too warm but she drank it all. She ate the bread so fast she choked several times but hid the cheese, thinking she may not be given anything else.
She curled up on the cold floor, resting her head on her hands. She was long past tears; she was enveloped in a sort of numbness that kept her from wondering too much about what was going to happen to her. Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.
***
Lania woke up, confused and with the bitter taste of the wine still on her tongue. Her face was cold and her body was stiff from lying on the floor, she made it to her feet with a low graon and staggered to the door. It was still locked; she had heard the bolt slam home when she had been shoved inside. She got on her knees and studied the narrow aperture through which her scanty meal had been delivered. It provided no solution though it did show her a dusty bar of dying sunlight touching on the enormous grinding wheels of the mill.
The walls of her cell were damp and she shivered. The grain was kept in piles away from the wall, she assumed that was so it didn’t spoil before it could be winnowed and bagged. She went to the far end of the small room, it had grown dark and she had to feel her way with her hands. Every wall ended precisely where another one started, there was no outside door.
Depressed and fearful she ate her cheese and drank the water remaining in the bowl. Eventually her youthful spirits revived. She had a full belly and had slept much better, despite the circumstances, than she had in weeks. She began to pace the narrow confines, her mind grappling with the question of how best to escape.
The door opened and a rough looking
man with a black cloak pulled her arm. She balked at his touch.
“Who are you?” Lania demanded but he didn’t answer.
The streets were dark but not quiet. The villagers were lined along them, torches guttering in the soft breeze. A pale sliver of moon hung overhead, stars pricked the ebony sky and she stared upward, a prayer forming on her lips as she understood what was taking place.
This was a ritual and she was about to be sacrificed to the gods. Her blood froze in her veins and her feet dragged, she fought back, kicking and shrieking but they pulled her inexorably onward. By the time they came to the river she was screaming curses. Her throat was raw and her feet were sore, there was more than one of the men that dragged her who had a limp and she felt some satisfaction in knowing their testicles and shins would throb painfully for at least the night.
Anger overcame her fear as they bound her to the tree. Her wrists were pulled behind her and tied tightly, her feet were left bare. The priest moved closer, chanting and flicking oil at her hair. It glittered there, like fat little stars hung in the ebony tresses that hung to her back.
Pan saw the proceedings taking place. Normally the exploits of humans bored him, they had so little imagination really. The woman tied to the tree, however, was gorgeous enough to rival the wood nymph he had been chasing the night before. He peered at her from the reeds where he was searching for that nymph and was pleased at the sight: long black hair hanging in a silky cloud, unblemished white skin and dark eyes that turned up slightly at the corners. Her mouth was as red as passion berries and her body was ripe and lean all at once. Her breasts were heavy and full, they strained against the fabric of her robes. Her hips swelled out below a tiny waist and flat belly and her bare feet were highly arched and slender.