by Delta James
Virgin Tribute
By
Delta James
Copyright © 2019 by Stormy Night Publications and Delta James
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
James, Delta
Virgin Tribute
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Shutterstock/Miune and Shutterstock/staras
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Books of the Wayward Mates Series
More Stormy Night Books by Delta James
Delta James Links
Chapter One
Raegan Yesler shook her head at the silliness of the young women with whom she lived. The sounds of their giggling and high-pitched teasing were something she found annoying.
“Raegan, get your nose out of that musty old book and come along. They’ve prepared the bath water. They say the elders are coming today.”
Raegan snorted and closed the ancient text. She ran her hand lovingly down its leather-clad spine. While most books were available on electronic devices, there was something she found appealing about the obsolete texts. There was a certain sensuousness and comfort in feeling the leather and embossing on their covers and turning the actual pages that pleased her.
“Come, girls,” called one of those who had gone before, “it’s time for your bath. The water has been prepared.”
Reluctantly, Raegan rose and headed toward the bathing area. It was a large, well-lit room with entrances from the communal living area, the two dormitories for those in the program and the area that housed the individual rooms of those who had gone before. At each of the entrances, one of the massive warriors who helped to provide for the security of the Sanctuary stood guard.
One of the few things Raegan appreciated about being considered to be the Chosen One was having unrestricted access to bathing water and being clean. What she didn’t like was all of the ritual that came with the annual ceremony to select the Chosen One.
Those who had gone before spaced the women evenly around the large shared bath. Their leader, who had once been the daughter of an elder, cleared her throat and clapped her hands to silence the young women gathered around her.
“Today, you will all be allowed to play and enjoy your time in the water. This is the first of several steps that will result in this year’s annual tribute for the Protector to be chosen. It is important that you recognize the importance and sanctity of the honor that may be bestowed on you this day.”
Raegan muttered under her breath, “Honor, my ass.”
The women up for consideration giggled and those who had gone before scowled. Despite her derision of the young women with whom she lived, she was popular as her sarcastic and scathing remarks were often a highlight of any gathering.
“That is enough, Raegan. There are those among you who will never be considered and will deem themselves a failure because of it. You are coming up to an age where you may never be selected and so should be putting your best foot forward.”
“Let me see, fucked by a mutant freak or by some guy with more muscles than brains whenever he wants. That’s not much of a choice if you ask me.”
“No one is asking you,” the woman hissed.
One of those with whom Raegan had entered the program many years before shook her head. “Stop egging them on. Without the Protector the Sanctuary will fall to the mutants. The Protector demands an annual tribute.”
“So why is she chosen?” argued Raegan. “Why not ask for volunteers?”
“Because the elders know what is best for all of us and this is our way. It has been so for many generations.”
“Ever notice that all the elders are men and it’s women they sacrifice?” continued Raegan.
“Raegan! That is enough. Most of us are aware of your feelings. Now be silent,” commanded the leader. She turned to engage the other women gathered around the bath. “One of you will be the Chosen One given to the Protector as tribute and concubine. In so doing, you guarantee the safety and continuation of the Sanctuary for the following year.”
Wisely, Raegan decided to hold her tongue. That seemed to be the answer to many things: that whoever was selected would be the Chosen One given to the Protector as tribute and concubine. The women, both those who had been tribute and those in the selection program, had that drilled into their heads so they could recite it without thinking.
As a group they stepped into the warm water and luxuriated in it. All around her, Raegan heard small groups of girls gossiping and giggling as they played in the water. She watched as several water fights broke out, but kept to herself.
The girl who had been beside Raegan came to sit with her. “You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
“That’s the hell of it,” said Raegan. “I like being here. I’m well aware that we have it better than most women at the Sanctuary, but the idea that I have to remain a virgin until they decide to hand me off either to some monster or offer me up as the sexual plaything for one of the warriors isn’t my idea of fair. I think we ought to have a say in it.”
“That’s the way it’s always been.”
“But that doesn’t make it right,” argued Raegan. “And what happens that is so awful that our society exiles those given to the Protector? They are isolated from everyone except each other and those that might have to endure the same fate.”
“They say he ruins a woman to be with other men. Those who were here when they tried to deny him his annual tribute say his cock is enormous and has barbs on the lower portion. And,” she said, lowering her voice, “they say he doesn’t just use a woman’s sacred sheath to breed her.”
Raegan laughed bitterly. “In other words, he mutilates and tortures women. Then when he can’t get her pregnant, he returns her and our men have such small dicks they know they’ll never measure up? Has anyone ever asked if the almighty Protector can even father a child? How do we know all of the Chosen Ones have failed? Maybe he’s the failure.”
“That’s not true; I’ve heard the warriors are quite large as well.”
“Oh, joy!” Raegan said sarcastically. “So, if your private parts aren’t damaged by a freak, you get to endure the rest of your life being repeatedly mauled by one of our own.”
Once their bath was over, the young women were readied to have most of their body hair, save their eyebrows, a small patch at the juncture of their thighs, and that on their head, removed. Each woman was given a towel and then was attended by two of those who had gone before. The attendants would press the towels against their young charges’ naked bodies to remove some of the water, but ensure there was enough moisture left to aid with the removal of the hair.
“Remove the towel, Raegan. We must prepare your skin to be smooth as silk.”
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“Exactly why is that?” she asked.
The two women looked at each other and intoned, “Because that is the way the Protector has deemed it should be.”
“Do you two dream in lockstep with each other?”
They did not answer but waited for her to hand them the towel.
“Why not just give me the stuff and I’ll do it myself,” said Raegan, reaching for the warm depilatory cream.
“That is not the way it is done. If you will not comply, we will ask that you be held by one of the warriors.”
“Come now, Raegan,” said the other one, “we go through this every year. You have done this before; you know there is no pain involved.”
Raegan knew she was no match for the brute strength of the warriors. She knew that those who wished to remove her body hair would not hesitate to call for reinforcements. She sighed in resignation and handed over the towel.
The woman had been right, it wasn’t painful, but it and all that followed were exceedingly embarrassing. Having to submit to having her body hair removed and then being examined by the elders who talked about the women in front of them as though they weren’t in the same room was humiliating.
The warm cream was applied and removed with warm cloths, leaving behind only slick, smooth skin. All body hair was removed, even most of that between a woman’s legs and the inside of her thighs. When they were finished, the only body hair remaining was the small nest of curls at the apex of those up for selection’s legs.
Once the women to be considered to be the Chosen One were denuded of most of their hair, they were helped into thin, loose robes that were open down the front and closed only by a tie around their waist. It was at this point that most who had been through the ritual before would become antsy. Additional warriors would file in to stand in front of the line as the pool was directly behind them, effectively trapping them in place. It was a boon to the warriors to be present during the selection process—a reward for service given to the Sanctuary. It was said that these were the warriors who those not selected would be offered to.
Raegan stood in line with the other women. She hadn’t had to worry about being among those chosen for the more intimate examination until the past two years. She wasn’t unaware that her body had developed more curves during that time. She hated this. Hated being put on display and being pawed by the elders.
The last two years when she hadn’t been chosen, she had breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It had taken every ounce of will power she had not to swat the hands of the old men who had gone down the line hefting at least one breast of each of those to be considered. She was not sure she could exhibit the same level of control this year.
Elder Stanley, the leader of the elders, spoke. “We have come to select those three women who will move on to the next phase of selection for the honor of being tribute to the Protector. He has charged us with inspecting you to make sure you are blemish free and that your body appears to be capable of childbearing. This will be confirmed by the medical examination of the women selected for further consideration.”
Raegan snorted. “These old buggers get off on all of this.”
“Shh, Raegan. There is nothing sexual in their touch.”
“You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” she smirked. “Haven’t you been paying attention? If they don’t get off on it, why are most of them having trouble breathing normally by the end? Why do they wear loose trousers? For that matter, why do they all come along and so many of them need to put their hands on us?”
Raegan watched as the elders moved down the line, running a hand down the flank or throat of the woman in front of them. Many women had their robes opened and several elders would lift a breast, cup a bottom, or even stroke the inside of a thigh. They were careful to never touch the clitoris, labia, or any of the erotic zones of the woman’s nether region.
“Raegan,” intoned the elder. “We have had our eye on you the past two years. Let us see how you have developed.”
He reached for the tie on her robe and Raegan stayed his hand. A warrior stepped forward but stopped as the elder held up his hand.
“Compliance is not optional nor will interference with the process be tolerated. As you seem reluctant to allow us to see you better by simply opening your robe and lifting it out of our way, it will be removed.”
The elder stepped back and before Raegan could so much as make a retort, she was grasped by one warrior as another stripped her bare before all those in attendance. She didn’t fail to note the sharp inhalation of breath from the men present—elder and warrior alike.
“Her body has ripened this year. Note how she nips in at the waist before her hips flare out.”
He lifted her breast in his hand and squeezed it. With a warrior standing at the ready on either side of her, she did not have a chance to remove his hand before he did so himself.
One of the other elders lifted her breast in his hand as well. “And the heft of her breast has increased,” he said to the others.
The remaining elders did the same with several running their hands over her naked backside and making comments about the round firmness and how that would please the Protector.
Turning to Raegan, the leader of the elders said the words she had prayed never to hear. “You will be considered for tribute.”
“Thanks, but I’d prefer not to be.”
There was a startled gasp from most of those assembled. The elders turned back to her.
“What did you say?” Elder Stanley challenged in an authoritative tone.
“I said,” Raegan responded in a strong, firm voice, “I would prefer not to be.”
“That is not for you to decide, girl. If you are so honored you will be the Chosen One...”
“I know. I will be given to the Protector as tribute and concubine. What bullshit! I’ve never been asked if I wanted to be considered. It’s my body and I’ll be the one who has to endure whatever it is he does to those given to him. It can’t be good, as it causes those so chosen to go into seclusion for the rest of their lives and have little contact with anyone who hasn’t gone through the same thing. I think I ought to have a say. And I’m saying thanks, but no thanks.”
“No one refuses the honor of being the Chosen One.”
“As I recall the story, your sister did but you bastards let that monster carry her away.” Raegan challenged him not only in her words and tone but by refusing to break eye contact.
“What you want is disappointing and immaterial. Our pact with the Protector is to offer him the best of our women as annual tribute and concubine for a period of three to four months. Does your knowledge of the night my sister was taken away include a vivid memory of how close this Sanctuary came to being destroyed?”
“Obviously I wasn’t there,” retorted Raegan.
“Well, I was,” continued Stanley. “When the Protector discovered my father had withheld tribute, he withdrew his protection. The mutants began to besiege our stronghold. They were able to break through the gates and made short work of the warriors sent to defend the Sanctuary.”
“That was twenty years ago,” argued Raegan.
“The leader of the mutants was a horrifying beast that seemed to be a cross between a gorilla and a bear. He had great claws and tremendous upper body strength. He could tear a human apart as though it were nothing. He was closing in on the last of our warriors, when the Protector intervened in his shifted state—a long-extinct saber-tooth cat crossed with an enormous eagle. The leader of the mutants stood mostly erect leaning on its extended forearms; the Protector was on all fours rearing up to slash with his impressive claws and extended canines.”
“And this is the thing you want to sacrifice us to?” challenged Raegan, squaring off against the elder.
“The Chosen One is not killed. And anything she goes through is revered and rewarded upon her return to us.” The elder’s eyes dimmed in light of the fearful memory he seemed intent on relating to all who were present. “The
fight that followed lasted no more than a few minutes before the leader of the marauders was torn asunder by the Protector who drove the remaining mutants away before confronting my father.”
Elder Stanley slowly shook his head. “We watched in a kind of fascinated horror as the Protector morphed from beast to human. When he stood erect, he was revealed to be a heavily muscled man who towered over even the largest warrior. He was naked and his large staff, erect from the adrenaline rush of the fight, jutted out from his body. It was enormous and rows of barbs protruded along part of the shaft directly behind its head. He demanded to know which of those present was my father.”
Raegan, and she assumed the rest of those under consideration, trembled at the idea of being subjected to being bred by the beast described.
“My father offered his life in exchange for the Protector resuming his safeguarding of our people. But he refused. Instead, he demanded my sister be given to him as tribute. The Protector demanded that all those offered in tribute from that time forward be over the age of twenty-five and virgins. He threatened to kill us all should he ever be denied again.”
“But...” Raegan tried to interrupt.
“There are no buts. My sister was dragged forward terrified and screaming. When she saw the Protector’s engorged phallus, she was rendered speechless. He reached for her, closing his strong hand around her wrist. He drew my sister to him, telling her she would service him for the next season. My father had to be restrained. The Protector grew tired of my sister’s histrionics and hefted her over his shoulder, like a rag doll, and delivered a stinging blow to her upturned rump that echoed down the tunnels of the Sanctuary.”
“So, he beats those you give to him?” questioned Raegan.
“No. He punishes disobedience. The Protector left the Sanctuary as those of us left behind began the task of rebuilding, thanked God that he had delivered us from a greater evil, and tried to ignore the screams of my sister.”
There was a collective shudder as the story of the year the Protector had been denied his tribute was common knowledge, but few had ever heard it told from the perspective of one who had been there.