“Oh … well, the ritual takes place at the ceremony. The ceremony is basically the place, the actual happening … and the ritual is how the women become wives.”
I frown. “What kind of ceremony or ritual is it?”
Emmy smiles. “You’ll see. Now c’mon, put this on. Your clothes look messy from your punishment. You can’t go outside like that.”
She throws a whole new white dress on the bed and hastily takes mine off without even asking me if I’m okay with it. They quickly undress and redress me into an outfit that looks exactly the same as if they’ve done this a million times before. A shawl is laced around my head, and my hair is tucked in as though I’m a nun. I feel like a puppet going to a show.
When everyone’s dressed, Emmy leads the way to the door and out into the community again. I follow, wondering where she’ll take us. There are a lot of people on the move right now, doors opening left and right, people streaming out in hoards. All of us are going in the same direction … the huge building that the elder sister marked as “the showers.”
I look around at all the people walking in droves in the same direction, chatting about how they are and what mundane tasks they’ve done today. Both men and women all walk in line toward that same building, and I’m starting to wonder if that’s where the ceremony will take place.
When we’re finally at the gigantic doors, I take a look inside. There are rows and rows of showers both left and right, none with any separation whatsoever. My eyes widen as everyone in front of us randomly takes their clothes off and places them in the big bins near the door.
Everyone’s walking around naked with not a care in the world, and people step under the showers together, sharing the soap bars like one big, happy family.
“Your turn,” Emmy says. Pushing me forward, she forces me to enter.
I shake my head. “This is the showers?”
“Yeah, it’s time for a nice shower,” she says. “Take off your clothes.” She peels away the layers of her own dress, throwing it into the bin before grabbing a soap bar off the many racks. “Go on.”
My throat clamps up. “I can’t do this,” I say, trying to step back, but the crowd behind me won’t let me.
There’s an elder by the door staring me down until I back away.
“Take off your clothes,” she barks. It’s not a question.
I shiver as I walk to a corner of the building and stay there.
Holly comes toward me and peels off the layers one by one until I’m left with nothing but my hands covering my body.
“C’mon,” she says, and she grabs my hand and leads me into the showers where men and women all stand together washing their naked bits, seemingly unaware of one another.
But I’m not … I’m acutely aware of my own body and the scar that’s on my belly, always reminding me of what human contact has done to me. Why did I have to get dressed only to get undressed? Is that part of the ceremony? Does everyone here shower like this, in front of everyone? And why?
I glance over my shoulder. April’s holding hands with Emmy, who’s guiding her into the showers just like Holly is pushing me, trying to get us to conform. But I’m not ready for any of this.
“Is there nowhere private?” I ask softly.
“No, silly,” Emmy says as she walks behind us. “This is where all the adults clean themselves of their sins. And the dirt, of course.” She giggles.
This is the norm for her, but it isn’t for me, and even when the water cascades down on me, I still find the need to hide myself in a corner, hoping no one will watch.
A man walks by, and I feel even more uneasy than before, so I quickly rub the soap all over, rinse it off, and walk out.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m done,” I say, leaving soaking wet footprints on the floor.
“Towel,” the elder sister at the door says, and I whisk it out of her hand before she can say another word, wrapping it around my body as tightly as I possibly can in order to hide the more intimate parts of me.
I never wanted to share this with anyone, let alone every random stranger in this community.
But I guess this is their thing. Sharing is caring. Love means no limits.
“Put on the slippers,” the elder sister says, and she hands me a pair.
I do what she asks, and she points at a different door than the one through which we entered this building. I narrow my eyes at her, hoping I might be able to slip past so I can go back to the hut and pretend I don’t exist, but of course, she’d never let that happen. I contemplate bursting past her or inflicting pain, but one glance over her shoulder confirms my fears; guards.
They’ve been following me wherever I go, and I don’t think they’re going to stop anytime soon. Not until I’ve assimilated completely and am no longer a flight risk, I assume.
With disdain, I spin around and walk into the direction the elder sister points at. There’s a thick, heavy door I can barely open that leads to a set of stairs with no escape route. I checked. I swallow away the lump in my throat and head upstairs. There’s no one behind me, so there’s no pressure, but I know they’ll be watching, waiting for my hesitation. I tilt my head and find multiple cameras hanging in the corners. Of course.
Who’s watching? I’m not sure, but if I can guess, it’s probably one of the higher-ups.
The door in front of me is closed, but there are loud noises behind it. I lean in and press my ear against it. Actual music is coming from the other side. Like, loud organs playing bombastic, almost etheric music. That must be where the ceremony is.
After taking a big breath, I open the doors and step outside onto a terrace, high above the ground. Flickering lights hanging from the balcony distract from the view, and I squint to get a better look. There are tables and chairs everywhere, but no feast to be found. But there is beer and lots of it, and people dance to the music as if they do this every week. For a second, I almost imagine myself being at this weird bar, getting my vibe on and meeting new people.
But then I remember I’m in a cult, and every inch of my fantasy is chipped away.
These people are insane.
They cheer each other on as they dance and bump into each other. Men are groping women, and no one says a word or jumps in. Men are grabbing women, putting a scarf around their heads, and forcing them to their knees.
What is happening?
There’s a stage all the way in the back where seven men are seated, watching over the entire spectacle as if it’s something they enjoy, like a show being put on by performers.
One of them is him. Noah.
He sits right there on that stage as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
As though he sensed I was watching him, he suddenly looks me directly in the eyes. I can’t tear my eyes away, no matter how hard I try. His penetrating gaze makes it impossible, and it’s almost as if he wants me to see.
See this. Know that this is what they do.
The same thing that will happen to me once the initiation is finished.
A shiver runs along my spine.
When I finally manage to tear my eyes away, I can’t help but look at the women on their knees, who offer their wrists to men. They willingly offer themselves to be bound … and fucked.
In front of everyone.
Their towels ripped off.
Bodies naked and on display.
Fucked from behind like some kind of animal.
Chapter 10
Noah
I can’t look away, and I know neither can she, no matter how hard she tries. She must see, must know what it is that we do. Our community is one of a kind, one of respect for God and love for your fellow believers.
Love is what drives us … visceral … animalistic love.
Naked bodies clashing into each other is the ultimate form of love. Two people melting into one, man and woman becoming husband and wife for everyone to see.
This is the ritual of the wife.
When
a man chooses a woman, he takes her and makes her his in front of everyone. Tonight, the people celebrate, dance, and fuck until the night is over, and then we all go to our homes in peace, knowing people have been united.
But first, the ritual must be completed.
Our women must bear children, and for that to happen, every unity must be watched over and later blessed by one of the patriarchs or the president. That is why we’re all here, watching over the ritual and the ceremony as a whole.
But my eyes still dwindle away from the crowd and focus on her. Natalie … She’s on my mind so often I can’t remember the last time I didn’t think about her.
Sweet, innocent Natalie … so ripe for the taking.
Yet I can’t. Not yet.
“So many rituals at tonight’s ceremony,” Patrick muses.
“Mmmhmm …” I hum.
“Anyone caught your eye?” he asks, raising his brow at me.
Of course, she has, and he knows, but I refuse to play this game.
“Not tonight,” I say.
“Why not? There are plenty.”
“Not for me.” I clear my throat.
There’s a pause before he continues. “Well, I think I’ll pick the one in the back, with the green eyes and the bright red hair.” He licks his lips in a way that makes me want to hurl. “She looks appetizing.”
“Sure does,” I concur, hoping it’ll shut him up. I’m really not up for listening to his dirty fantasies tonight.
“You know you’re allowed, right?”
I frown at him. “You do realize who you’re talking to, right?”
“I know, but I’ve never actually seen you … you know, pick.” He holds up his hand. “It’s custom.”
“I know, Patrick, but there are plenty of us, and I’m sure none of you would mind if I passed,” I reply with a condescending tone.
“True …” He nods, smiling viciously as he buries himself deeper into his seat. “More for me.”
I roll my eyes. The patriarchal position is truly wasted on a lustful man like him.
I know I can choose, but I don’t want to choose … there’s only one girl who I have my eyes on, and I will do anything I can to make her and only her the one to get on her knees for me.
Waiting is not my virtue, but I must persist. She has to see every inch of our society before I can claim her as mine. But when I finally do, she can be rest assured that I will take her in every way possible, and I don’t care who sees.
Natalie
People watch and cheer and dance alongside the fucking couples as though it’s the most natural thing ever. And I can do nothing but stare and wonder if this is a dream I just can’t seem to wake up from.
I’ve never seen anything like this. For anyone to be so open and wild about sex, without any inhibition, is mind-boggling to me. At a sex club? Yes. But at a community whose whole purpose is to serve God? I wouldn’t ever have imagined this is what they meant when they said “ceremony.” Though it certainly does look like a “ritual.”
But I don’t want any part in this. I spin on my heels, but right there are Emmy and Holly, with those same cheerful looks on their faces as always.
“Where are you going?” Emmy immediately asks.
“Uh …” I have no answer, except for “getting the fuck out of here,” which probably won’t do me any good right now, so I opt for nothing.
“You can’t leave a ceremony. We have to witness the rituals,” Holly adds, smiling happily as if this is normal to them. But then I realize … it probably is.
This is all they’ve ever known, all they’ve ever seen.
But I haven’t. This isn’t normal, and I don’t want it to be.
“This is not for me,” I say.
But when I try to push past them, they won’t let me.
“No, no, Natalie, you have to stay,” Emmy says. “That’s the rules.”
“Why? Why do you do this to yourselves? Why would anyone want this?” I ask.
“Because we get to be wives,” Holly answers.
“It’s a privilege, don’t you see?” Emmy adds.
“No, I don’t see.” I shake my head. “Women are getting fucked like animals.”
“That’s how we show our love to God. We share love with one another. Men, women, everyone. It’s how we become husband and wife. After being blessed, of course.”
“By letting a random man fuck you?”
She shrugs. “It’s not random. If a man chooses you, it means you are worthy.”
Holly rubs her lips together and squeals. “I hope I get picked tonight.”
And she walks off into the dancing crowd as though this is her destiny, while I’m left wondering why anyone would choose this willingly. But they don’t know any better. This is how it always went, how it’ll always be in their community.
But this will never be a home for me.
“C’mon, let’s enjoy the celebration,” Emmy says, hooking her arm in mine.
“No.” I shake her off.
“Why not? There’s no need to be afraid. Nothing will happen.”
I must look bewildered, but I don’t care. “What if some man tries to grab me? Tries to fuck me?” I can barely get the words out of my mouth without choking.
She laughs. “No, silly. You’re still an initiate. They only touch you once they’re allowed.”
“Who allows this?”
She points at all the patriarchs in the chair. At the man who has chained me up and put me in this position. The man who decides my fate. Noah.
It’s him and all of them who will make me submit to a man who will take from me what I don’t want to give.
“They bless all the rituals that take place here at the ceremony,” Emmy says. “Now enough talking. Let’s have a drink.” She grabs my hand and drags me into the crowd, away from the doors, until they’re blocked by bodies, and I can no longer find an exit among the sea of people dancing and fucking about.
It’s maddening, completely insane, and all I can do is drink and watch while the cheers around me lull me into believing this is what’s supposed to happen.
Indoctrination never happens suddenly.
It moves slowly, creeping up on you like a snake underneath your blanket, slithering up your body until you wake up and discover it’s too late to stop it from biting you in the neck.
And I can feel his eyes bore into me right now.
The patriarch, Noah, watching my every move like a snake, waiting to strike.
When the night is over—and about twenty to thirty people have fucked like rabbits, covering the floor in a mixture of spilled drinks, sweat, and cum—the patriarchs stand, and everyone stops what they’re doing. All of the fucking people line up.
One of the patriarchs points at a woman. Then another one. In the end, six of them point at two or three people each, all of whom glow with the biggest of smiles. The only one who doesn’t pick is Noah, who only seems to want to stare at me. I don’t know if it is to make me feel uncomfortable or to always remind me of his presence, but it’s working and he knows.
The patriarchs walk off stage, including Noah, who throws me a final glance before everyone exits through a different door than the one we came in through. The people they pointed at are escorted through that same door by a few elders.
The rest of us go back through the showers.
Emmy hooks her arm through mine again. “That was amazing, wasn’t it?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I ask, “What was that pointing for?”
“That’s part of the ritual. The people who are picked are especially blessed by patriarchs.”
“They went with them,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “The patriarchs will bestow them with love them now.”
“But … didn’t they just get married?” I ask. “Shouldn’t they be together now as husband and wife?”
She gives me huge smile, which unsettles me to my core. “It is a husband’s honor to share his wife with a patriarch
after she’s no longer untouched. If the baby ends up being from a patriarch instead of her husband, then she was blessed in the purest of ways.”
My eyes widen, and my heart stops.
“Sharing … as in … fucking?”
Her final nod is like a final nail in the coffin.
She giggles. “I pray this will also happen to both me and you!”
Chapter 11
Noah
I hate this night.
I hate it with all my guts because this night is the only one where my father brings women into his home. Women who look like my mother … but can’t ever measure up to her.
But it doesn’t matter to him. As long as he gets his fix, he’s happy.
Despicable.
“Are you sure you don’t want one?” my father asks as he totes another woman on his arm.
A woman who just got married by right to another man. He fucked her first, claimed her first, gave her a child …
And now my father will besmirch all of it in the name of the Lord. He picked her out of all the girls that participated in a ritual during the ceremony. I pity her for having to put up with him tonight.
“No, thanks,” I say, waving it off.
“C’mon, at least have a drink with us,” he says, holding up his glass while the woman pours him another. They’re so devoted and look happy when they serve him, but I know it’s just a farce.
Being chosen by a patriarch isn’t something to be taken lightly, and she’ll do anything she can to please him … which makes me want to smash that glass out of his hands. He doesn’t deserve that kind of love.
“I’m tired from the ceremony,” I lie. I really just want to get out of this foyer before he does something I can’t unsee.
“Boy,” he says, his voice stern all of the sudden. “It’s time you stopped pining after something you lost. It’s too late.”
I was about to leave, but this comment … this comment makes me want to punch him in the gut.
“It’s never too late,” I reply, trying to control my emotions.
Under His Rule (Dark Romance Suspense) Page 8