by Kate Hill
Sating the Lust God
Kate Hill
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2005 Kate Hill
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ISBN: 1-59596-150-X
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Editor: Sheri Ross Carucci
Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly
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Chapter One
His large, warm hands were everywhere, squeezing, caressing, and curving around parts of Tamanna that had only been touched in dreams. His thumbs circled her nipples while his third and fourth arms reached around to cup her bottom. Squeezing the fleshy globes, he grunted with pleasure and dropped his head to her neck. Cool, sharp teeth gently scraped her flesh, followed by the soothing caress of his warm, wet tongue.
All her life she had longed to mate with the God of Lust, yet she never imagined she would actually be here, in the deepest, darkest chamber in his temple. She had never believed she would be wrapped in his four steely arms, pressed so close to his sleek body that she could feel the powerful beating of his immortal heart.
“Yes. Oh, yes,” she panted, wondering if she should speak without his permission, but too lost in passion to care.
He didn’t seem to mind. A deep, masculine chuckle rumbled in his chest and he pushed her onto the circular carpet in front of his throne. Two of his hands pinned hers above her head while two continued their sensual massaging of her breasts. His thumbs and forefingers pinched and rolled her nipples. The tight buds were so sensitive that his touch was almost painful, yet if it ended she felt she might not survive.
Releasing her hands, he slid down her body. The hands that had been on her breasts moved lower. One slipped behind her and parted her bottom cheeks. He eased a finger between them and rested it against her sphincter, pushing gently, yet not penetrating. At the same time, he slid a thumb into her pussy and gathered her liquid heat. Slowly, he withdrew the thumb and used it to circle her clit while sliding two fingers into her pussy. While stimulating her below the waist, he also stroked her face and toyed with her right nipple. Her left breast received the warm, wet attention of his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the swollen flesh, then sucked hard upon it.
Tamanna’s heart beat so fast she thought it might fly through her chest. The simultaneous stimulation of her most sensitive areas was almost too much to endure. Closing her eyes, she writhed beneath him, her entire body arching closer to him. She panted and whimpered, trying to maintain at least some control.
“No, cry out for me. I want to hear you. Let me know what you’re feeling,” he purred between licks of her nipple.
“Ah! My Lord, you’re going to kill me, and I so want to die!” She moaned, her head thrashing from side to side and her hips bucking in time with the stroking of his hands.
Her pussy tightened around his fingers and her clit throbbed with impending orgasm.
Then he stopped stroking. She lay still, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath, her body so tight that every muscle ached. Regardless of whether or not he continued stroking her, she was too far gone to avoid coming.
Then it happened. His lips sucked hard on her nipple while his finger pulsed against her bottom hole and the entire length of his thumb ran slowly up her clit.
With a ragged scream, she came harder than she ever had before. Every wave of sensation that broke over her clit was almost painful in its intensity. Her sphincter pulsed against his teasing finger.
“Yes, my beauty. Come hard. Hold nothing back. You are made for me, lovely Tamanna. My mate for eternity.”
Tamanna awoke gasping. Her clit palpitated in waning orgasm and her stiff nipples ached against the harsh blanket covering her.
Pushing aside the blanket, Tamanna stood. Her thin nightshirt clung transparently to her sweat-drenched body, her nipples poking against the material. Unable to resist, Tamanna cupped her breasts and ran her thumbs over the buds. A shiver of pleasure-pain ripped through her.
“This is wrong,” she murmured, yet she couldn’t resist the temptation to rub herself. She lifted the hem of the nightshirt, spread her legs, and slipped a finger inside her pussy. She was very wet. Using the same finger, now coated with her feminine honey, she circled her clit, slowly at first, then faster.
“Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes and imagining the Lust God’s strong brown hands on her body. “Oh, yes. Ah. Ahh.”
She threw back her head, sobbing with pleasure, and came. Her legs trembled and her buttocks tightened. Thrusting her hips forward, she rubbed her finger wildly until the last ripple rolled through her.
For a moment she stood, panting, sweat trickling between her breasts and rolling down her back.
The summer heat in Cape Thorne was insufferable, and her carnal activities only made the night seem hotter.
With a sigh, she stepped out of her hut. In the light of the full moon, she gazed at the mountain in the distance. His mountain.
In two days, a woman would be chosen to share the Copulisiac Ritual with the Lust God himself. Once a year, a mortal woman was selected to satisfy the lust smoldering inside him. After experiencing the unimaginable pleasure of mating with him, she was awarded treasure enough to live out the rest of her life in the luxury of the Lust God’s temple.
Tamanna wasn’t after wealth. She wanted Chand himself, to feel the heat of his body and taste his divine seed on her tongue. Terrifying yet irresistibly sensual, his very essence had been summoning her since last year’s ritual when, for the briefest moment, their gazes had locked. She had been kneeling at the bottom of the steps leading to the golden altar in the temple’s great hall. A hundred other women were assembled, each hoping to be among those chosen to compete for the chance to mate with him.
The women had been ordered to remain on their knees, their heads bowed and gazes fixed on the floor, while Chand made his choice. She recalled seeing his bare feet, long and beautifully formed, pacing across the steps. The wide gold cuffs clamped around his ankles were a startling contrast to his brown flesh.
Unable to resist, Tamanna had lifted her face a bit, following the lines and curves of his powerfully muscled legs, lingering for a moment on his groin. His male attributes bulged beneath a tight loincloth of fine gold silk. A jeweled belt encircled his lean waist. His shoulders, arms, and the expanse of his chest were bare.
The sight of him made her nipples ache and drenched her pussy with desire. Having gained more courage, she glanced at his face. She drew a sharp breath and trembled with fear and lust. His full lips were parted, revealing sharp, white incisors. The nostrils of his aquiline nose flared slightly, like an animal sniffing out his prey -- or his mate. Most frightening of all were his eyes that fixed on hers in a stare that seemed to drain her very soul. They were large, slanted, and as gold as the bejeweled collar around his neck. No mortal could possess such eyes.
For a moment the entire world seemed to freeze. They stared at each other, Tamanna and the Lust God.
Beneath the inhuman surface of his eyes, she noticed a wi
ld churning of emotions. For a second, he looked almost desperate. Some of her fear drained and she felt compassion tug at her heart. Why should a god appear desperate and sad? He was worshipped. Anything he wanted was his.
His chest expanded even more in a deep breath. He seemed to bend forward the slightest bit and a muscle jerked in his cheek. Tamanna’s heart pounded. He was going to choose her!
Then his teeth clamped shut and he turned abruptly. Ten women were selected to remain at the temple and compete for the honor of pleasuring Chand. Tamanna had not been among them.
Sighing, she reluctantly turned away from the temple and stepped into her cottage, her mind still spinning with memories of last year’s ritual.
He had rejected her once, therefore the chances of becoming his mate this year were slim. Still, she couldn’t help dreaming about it. For a moment she had glimpsed into the Lust God’s eyes. His power combined with underlying vulnerability called to her, obsessed her. Since seeing him, she had been unable to think about anyone else.
In two days, she, along with the other hopefuls, would travel to the Lust God’s mountain. Even if she couldn’t have him, she would at least see him again.
Chapter Two
Lying spread-eagled on a marble slab, Kabir strained at the iron bonds securing his wrists and ankles. The aroma of incense wafted on the air. Flames leapt in the enormous fireplace, making the windowless room unbearably hot.
“No,” Kabir bellowed. “I will not permit it. Not again. Never again!”
Ignoring his protests, five holy men, covered from head to foot in hooded robes of golden silk, surrounded him. Their eyes bright with anticipation and a hint of fear, they tilted the black glass vials in their hands. A red-tinged oil that smelled of ginger drizzled onto his forehead, chest, groin, and legs. Almost immediately, his skin began to burn in a horribly familiar manner. Closing his eyes tightly, he prayed to the gods to release him from this torment, but as always, they didn’t answer.
The priests began rubbing the oil into his flesh while they chanted. “Lord of Fertility, Master of Death, we welcome you.”
“No!” Kabir roared, jerking against his bonds until blood slicked his wrists and ankles.
His heart pounded so hard he thought he might faint, though he should have known by now such a thing was impossible for him. For a hundred years he had withstood the ritual, suffered through ecstasy and horror such as no man should endure.
Only once had he glimpsed the slightest chance of freedom. He had fought for it, but the demon had been too strong. When possessed by Chand, Kabir’s essence was almost completely lost, buried beneath the force of the Lust God’s presence.
Still, last year during the ritual to choose the poor female who would become Chand’s mate for that year, a particular woman had dared meet the Lust God’s gaze. Somehow she had seen through Chand to Kabir. She had managed to loosen the suffocating bonds on his soul and sense his suffering. If anyone could break the curse upon him, she would be the one.
Realizing this, Chand had beaten Kabir’s struggling spirit into submission. Perhaps if he had fought harder, he could have forced Chand to choose the woman, but some shred of decency made him hesitate. None of the foolish women who clamored for Chand’s attention truly deserved such a fate. The priests told them it was an honor to serve the Lust God. They promised them wealth and security that most of them could never hope to have. The poor creatures couldn’t possibly know what awaited them within Chand’s lair. Kabir himself had been lured in a similar manner.
As a young man, he had trained to become a priest of the deities. He had always sensed his fate was to serve his people and he took his duty seriously. When a mysterious disease began claiming the lives of the people, several of the priests formed a sect that claimed to have a connection to one of the most powerful of the deities, the God of Lust, ruler of fertility and death. Through a sacred ritual, they claimed they could call upon the Lust God and he could wipe the disease from their land. All they needed was a volunteer to assist them.
Young, naïve, and willing to give his life for his duty, Kabir offered himself. What he didn’t know until later was the sect had been poisoning the people to create a panic and the ritual had nothing to do with saving lives, but with extending the priests’ own.
Imprisoned by the other deities for his decadent nature, the Lust God could only return to the world of men through a yearly ritual. He could then inhabit a human body for seven days, after which the curse conjured by the other deities would yank him back into his spiritual prison.
The priests summoned the Lust God who took over Kabir’s body. Chand promised the priests eternal life in exchange for his freedom, and he delivered. A taste of his blood each year kept the priests alive and almost godlike themselves, but at a terrible price that Kabir shuddered to think about.
Sharing a body with the Lust God was both exquisite and horrible. The physical pleasure was beyond description, but the wickedness that overtook Kabir was almost unendurable for a man of his innate gentleness.
After the first ritual week ended, Kabir had tried to escape, but the priests tracked him and thrust him into a cell deep within the mountain temple. He tried to take his own life, but a part of Chand’s essence remained with him. Now that he had undergone the ritual, he was cursed with immortality. Only if the priests’ ritual could be stopped would Kabir be freed.
Pretending to accept his fate, he was allowed some freedom within the temple. He studied the ancient scrolls and texts, searching for a way to end the evil tainting him. One night, deep in the bowels of the temple, he found a stone tablet hidden within a wall. The words scrawled upon it stated that to end the ritual forever, the Lust God must mate with a woman who loves both him and his host and they in turn must love her as well. Once this happens, no one could ever use the ritual again to summon the Lust God.
A great shudder ripped through Kabir, blocking out all thoughts except the heat and savage passion breaking over his body.
The priests chanted louder and Kabir writhed, a massive erection springing to life. His shoulders felt as sensitive as his cockhead. Panting hard, he resisted the urge to moan with unfulfilled need.
One of the priests knelt on the table between his legs and curled his fists around Kabir’s cock. His warm, wet tongue swirled around the head before he sucked it so deep into his mouth that it brushed the back of his throat.
Kabir arched his neck, his entire body aflame. Sweat trickled down his oiled flesh. The marble beneath his back and buttocks grew slick with it. His sides ached and throbbed.
The mouth on his cock sucked harder and faster. A cry of raw ecstasy erupted from Kabir’s throat at the same moment his cock seemed to explode. His shoulders also pulsated with orgasmic spasms and his gums ached with pleasure-pain. He knew exactly what was happening. He was taking the Lust God’s physical form, sprouting two additional arms and growing dagger-sharp fangs. Chand had a firm hold on him now because he wanted the changes. He wanted the pleasure.
“Yes,” he bellowed, his deep voice resounding through the stone room.
Thrusting his hips upward, he tried to force his cock even deeper into the priest’s mouth, but the man jumped off the table, his ragged breath echoing in Chand’s ears.
With a savage growl, the Lust God broke the iron bonds. They clanged to the floor as he stood, gazing around the room, his chest heaving with excitement.
“Lord of Fertility. Master of Death,” the priests chimed, sinking to their knees and staring at him with longing.
Chand smiled, a slow, evil twisting of his lips. He stretched his four powerful arms and arched his back. It was good to be of the flesh again.
He was starving for sensation, desperate to bury his cock in a soft, wet cunt. He wanted to smell a woman’s sweet aroma, lick her salty flesh, and hear her cries of passion when he drove her to peak after peak of ecstasy.
“Please, My Lord.” One of the priests withdrew a small golden dagger from the folds of his cloak. “
Please.”
Chand curled his lip. The thought of feeding these parasites his sacred blood repulsed him, but it was the price of freedom. He snatched the dagger and sliced the back of his wrist. One by one the priests crawled to him. Not daring to rise to their feet without his permission, they lapped his flowing blood, their elixir of immortality. Without him, they would have died ages ago, and without their ritual, he would still be locked in his lonely prison without the comfort of a voice or the pleasure of a touch.
His fellow deities were cruel in their punishment, but he had found a way to thwart them, at least for a little while.
When the priests finished drinking, he bid them to rise.
“Are the females assembled?” he demanded.
“Yes, My Lord. They are awaiting you in the great hall.”
“Good. I will bathe first, then make my selection.”
Chand strode out of the chamber and drew a deep, cleansing breath. Seven days would pass far too quickly, but he intended to enjoy each and every moment.
Chapter Three
Tamanna arrived at the base of the deities’ mountain early on the morning of the Copulisiac Ritual. Several other women already waited, having spent the night there, while others continued arriving for several hours.
The women engaged in hushed conversation. Most of them looked nervous, some excited, and many terrified. Lost in her own thoughts about the Lust God, Tamanna didn’t notice the slender, auburn-haired girl seated on the ground until she stumbled over her.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” Tamanna glanced at the girl whose face was covered with her hands. “Are you hurt?”
The girl shook her head, stifling a sob.
Tamanna squatted beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“The ritual.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid that I’ll be… chosen. Once a woman mates with the Lust God, she belongs to him forever. She never leaves the temple again.”