by Alta Hensley
She continued to struggle as I threw her down on the ground.
You will kneel at my knees until I say otherwise!” I said, hoping my dictate would be accepted by all.
I glared at all the women who had stopped fighting out of fear. They had just watched one of their own be nearly strangled right before their eyes. I hated that this act forced them all to give up their fight and submit to the awful act of sitting on the dildo, but I couldn’t save them all. I could only save Makayla. It was all I could do… for now.
I looked at one man and then another. “This pet of mine will rest at my feet where she belongs.” I turned toward the terrified slaves. “The rest of the Masters will do the same if you all don’t fucking listen to them. They are your Masters!” My booming voice resonated across the room, and I knew I had scared them all, which was my desired effect.
With my heart beating harder than it ever had, and Makayla’s submissive body kneeling under me, I walked to the far corner of the room tugging her harshly behind me. When I realized no one was stopping me, and no one was suspicious in the slightest, I kept walking until Makayla and I would be out of the direct line of sight of everyone. With long, confident strides, I marched like a man of power to the beat of my own destiny. No one even raised one eyebrow at my real intent to keep Makayla from being anally impaled like the others.
Or so I thought.
Two brotherhood members walked up to me and said, “She needs to be on the bench with all the others. Beat her, or do what you want later. But the ritual is about to start and we need her seated.”
My gut tightened and it took everything inside of me not to just beat the shit out of the men looking at me, but I also knew that if I made a scene, I was putting Makayla at risk. I could be booted out of the mansion and who knew what would happen to Makayla and who she would be assigned to.
No.
If she had to go through the ritual, then it had to at least be with me. As awful as this would be, at least it would be with me.
Lifting her up and guiding her back to the bench, I whispered, “I’m sorry. Understand I am doing what I have to do.”
“I know,” she answered lightly. “I trust you.”
19
Makayla
Alec eased me down on the dildo. Thankfully, because of his stretching the night before, because of my own pussy juices coating the phallic instrument, and my prepared mental condition, the dildo going inside of me wasn’t as bad as it could be. Especially, when I could hear the cries of women who weren’t prepared and had no idea what would happen to them. It stretched me, and forced me to try to hold my weight on my toes so as not to put my full weight on the bench, but I could survive this. I would survive this.
“Men,” the master of ceremonies said in a deep booming voice. “Let the ritual begin!” He then began to chant in a low, haunting voice, “Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae. Et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum, qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine, passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus, descendit ad infernos, tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad dexteram Dei Patris omnipotentis, inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos. Credo in Spiritum Sanctum, sanctam Ecclesia.”
Six men stood, three on each side with white canes and thumped the ground hard.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
On the sixth strike of the cane against marble, Alec unbuttoned his pants, unzipped, and pulled out his large penis. In shock, I glanced down the line of captive women to see that each of the men who stood before them had done the exact same thing, and penis after penis went as far as I could see.
“Slaves. I would like for you to formally meet the man who has claimed you for the ritual. Open up your mouths, and greet your Master who you are to obey at all times. Open wide. Now.”
His last word was so sharp that I actually flinched when the booming voice echoed off the walls. I remained frozen, not knowing what to do. As simple as the command sounded, the actual idea of having Alec’s dick in my mouth as I sat helpless before him with a dildo up my butt seemed impossible. I could hear cries and gags around me, the sound of faces being smacked for undoubtedly doing as I was—nothing. Although when Alec’s hand moved to my face, a slap did not occur. Instead, he reached for my chin, and pulled my face to the tip of his hardened flesh. He continued to hold my chin as he pressed past my lips and rested heavy on my tongue. I didn’t have a choice but to open wide as the thickness of his member filled every inch of open space in my mouth. The weight was heavy against my tongue, and as he pressed deeper inside, I struggled not to gag as his full size touched the back of my throat. He released my chin and placed both of his hands on each side of my head, and gently began rocking his hips. The friction of my lips along his smooth and velvety skin caused his penis to twitch and grow even bigger.
I looked up at him, and for the first time since he entered the room, he wasn’t staring at me. Instead, he had his eyes closed, his head tilted back slightly, and it appeared as if I were giving him pleasure by having my mouth around him. I glanced to my right and saw the woman beside me crying as her Master jammed his veiny penis forcefully into her mouth. At least Alec kept his pushing and pulling at a steady and almost gentle rhythm. I wasn’t crying, nor was I gagging anymore. Instead, I focused on the actual act itself. Tasting the saltiness, smelling the musky odor, and feeling the black hairs that circled his sex brush up against my face each time he drove as far into my mouth as he could. I simply held my position, kept my mouth open, and tried to tune out all the moans, cries, choking and mewling all around me. I think it helped that Alec kept his hands firmly placed on my head. It offered me the support and guidance that I so desperately needed.
“That’s it, slaves,” I heard the master of ceremonies call out from a distance. “Suck those cocks. Worship that cock in your mouth. You are to do exactly as your Master orders. The penalty for disobeying orders is death. So, make your choices wisely. Is your pride worth dying over?”
The entire time the man spoke, Alec kept his pace. In and out he went, plundering my mouth with his cock. As time went on, I could hear the sound of deep moans coming from the other men beside me, more gagging, and even spitting all around. A few slaps, even more cries, but I ignored all. I simply watched Alec’s face tighten, his breathing increase, and his thrusts grow in aggression. A deep moan came from the depths of his belly and exited his lips on a growl. Hot liquid shot from his cock and coated the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow the salty, milky matter. My body heaved, and I desperately needed to inhale a deep breath but his member still blocked my air passage. A new sense of panic set in when I wondered if I would choke, but was granted a reprieve when Alec’s cock pulled out of my mouth completely. I gasped and shook, but managed to not vomit as some women did around me. Alec released my head from his grip, and with a gentle touch of his fingertip, he swiped at the remnants of his release that seeped from the corner of my mouth.
After a few moments, as I struggled to regain my breathing and normal heart rate, I heard, “We have entered the next stage of the ritual, slaves. Congratulations. Your part of the ritual is over. Although, you are to be on your very best behavior and remain planted where you are.”
I glanced up at Alec who slightly nodded at me, and I knew he meant it when he said all would be all right. We were halfway through the dark tunnel out of hell. Almost there. Almost there.
20
Alec
The women weren’t allowed to move, and I didn’t want to try to remove Makayla off the bench again and draw attention to us. Not now. It was almost over. Or at least the part involving Makayla was over. She had survived the part of the ritual that involved her, and now all she had to do was sit and remain quiet.
Though I knew that would be next to impossible soon enough, and it would be asking too much
for anyone to do so.
“The final part of the ritual is ready to commence,” the master of ceremonies announced. “Bring in the players.”
I leaned down to Makayla’s ear and whispered, “Remain quiet. I know this will be hard, but don’t say or do a thing.”
She nodded, and I knew that if she had any control over her emotions, she would obey. But I also knew that it would be next to impossible, and I wouldn’t be able to blame her one bit.
The doors opened to the ballroom and six men marched out single file. They were each blindfolded with a black scarf and were led to a circular table in the middle of the room.
Hearing Makayla’s gasp at the same time I saw Rhett, made the situation even more devastating. The woman I cared about was no doubt shattering into a million pieces next to me as I watched my best friend walk toward what could ultimately be his death. The only good thing at the moment was that Rhett was blindfolded and wouldn’t be able to see his daughter sitting naked on the bench with a dildo up her ass. I assumed he had no idea she was in the room, and at least me knowing this gave me some comfort. No father… nor man… should have to witness his daughter or any woman go through what the victims lined up next me just had to do.
As the blindfolded men were guided to their seats, I looked down at Makayla who sat with her eyes wide, her lip trembling, and complete panic washed over her face.
I anticipated that any moment, Makayla would shoot up off the bench and charge toward the table. Hell, it was taking everything I had not to do it myself. But we were both wise enough to know we couldn’t stop the fates. We couldn’t stop the brotherhood. Even if we tried, we would fail.
The master of ceremonies began to chant, “Domine, Redémptor noster, qui teipsum morti tradidisti, ut omnes homines salvi fíerent et ad vitam possent de morte transire, clementissimam pietatem tuam humílter deprecamur, ut digneris omnes servos tuos intueri lugentes et pro amisso propinquo suo suppliciter exorantes. Illi omnia peccata dimitte, Domine, qui solus es sanctus et summe misericors, qui per mortem tuam portas vitae tuis fidelis reserasti. Ne fratrem nostrum a te separari, Rex aterne, permittas, sed virtute gloriae tuae locum ei lucis, beatudinis et pacis largire. Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum.”
Six men holding canes rapped them loudly on the ground.
The antique revolver was placed in the middle of the table, and I heard Makayla gasp again. I looked down to see tears streaming down her face, and yet she still remained in place, not drawing attention to herself. I couldn’t have her watch this. I couldn’t just stand there and watch it myself. Something had to be done. Someone had to stop this. Enough was enough, and if it meant me dying to try then I would.
I took a step forward and instantly felt Makayla’s hand on my thigh. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t get yourself killed too. I couldn’t live with that.” Her voice was so low that fortunately with all the Latin chanting, she couldn’t be heard.
“Let us begin,” the master of ceremonies said.
I had to do something. Anything. I couldn’t allow this to happen. Someone was going to die. Yes, maybe it wouldn’t be Rhett… but what if it was? What if Makayla had to sit here and watch her father pull the trigger and die? Would she ever recover? Would I ever recover? Would I be able to live with myself knowing I just stood with all the others and watched my best friend test the fates and see if the bullet in that gun tonight was meant for him?
No. No.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
“Stop!” I called out, having all eyes turn to me. I stepped forward and away from Makayla in hopes that no attention would be brought her way. “I would like to sacrifice myself for Rhett Knox. My name is Alec Sheldon, life member of The Iron Colt Brotherhood, and I would like to cast my name for the game tonight. I would like to take Rhett Knox’s seat at the table.”
I had seen a sacrifice like this be done when I was much younger. A grandfather stepped in for his grandson to save a man who he felt still had his whole life ahead of him. The grandfather had felt he had lived his life, and he wouldn’t allow his grandson to die before him. The act of bravery did not end with a happily ever after, however, because it was the grandfather who ended up putting a bullet through his head instead.
I didn’t need to look back to know that out of all the gasps and murmurs flooding the room, that Makayla’s was one of them. But I wasn’t going to turn and see for myself. I didn’t want to face her. I didn’t want to see those eyes that melted every fiber in my body, and I didn’t want to see her pain. I didn’t want to give myself any reason to turn back and try to run out of this room like a coward.
I just had to tell myself that I was a lucky man. I had always been a lucky man. Hopefully luck would be on my side tonight. And at the very least—even if I died—I wouldn’t have to watch Makayla’s heart be ripped out of her chest if her father was the unlucky bastard who would die tonight.
The master of ceremony looked around at who I assumed were the governing council and when each man nodded in approval, he walked over to where Rhett sat and removed his blindfold.
Rhett blinked away the harsh lights and settled his eyes on me, clearly confused as to what was going on. I walked over to the table before I lost my nerve, and to hopefully get to him before he saw Makayla so I could help diffuse the situation.
He stood when I arrived, and asked in a raspy voice, “What are you doing? You don’t have to do this. This is my problem, not yours.”
“You did this all for Minka, and I had always wished I could have done more too. So now I can. I can keep Minka’s husband and daughter together.” And that was the truth. I was alone. I had no one to miss me… unless you counted the recent experience I had with Makayla, but no one else. A father and daughter should be together. Family always. I didn’t have family. “And besides. Face it man. I’ve always been luckier than you.”
Rhett shook his head. “I asked you to stay with Makayla. I needed you to keep her safe.” He glanced at the gun on the table and then at me. “Don’t do this, man. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you… die.”
I nodded toward where Makayla sat, knowing it was just a matter of time until Rhett saw her there anyway. “I couldn’t stop her from coming. I tried. But I did my best to get her through the first part of the ritual. It’s over, and now she needs you. Leave the last part of the ritual to me.”
Was I being a brave fool? Yes, but when I saw my sweet, innocent Makayla sitting over there on the bench, I realized there wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her. I’d promised her I would try to save her father, and that was exactly what I was going to do.
Before Rhett could wipe the shock of seeing his daughter naked and used as part of the ritual off his face, the master of the ceremony cut in. “Let us proceed.”
He then placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down into the chair Rhett once sat in. The blindfold was then placed over my eyes and pitch darkness took over. Odd how the minute the blackness took over, I could actually hear my own ragged breath as I was about to face the sick hand of luck.
“Domine, Redémptor noster, qui teipsum morti tradidísti, ut omnes homines salvi fíerent et ad vitam possent de morte transire, clementissimam pietatem tuam humilter deprecamur, ut digneris omnes servos tuos intueri lugentes et pro amisso propinquo suo suppliciter exorantes. Illi omnia peccata dimitte, Domine, qui solus es sanctus et summe misericors, qui per mortem tuam portas vitae tuis fidelis reserasti. Ne fratrem nostrum a te separari, Rex aterne, permittas, sed virtute gloriae tuae locum ei lucis, beatudinis et pacis largire. Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum,” began the chant again.
I pictured my time at the lake with Makayla to try to chase away my fear. I didn’t believe in God, so I had no one to pray to really. I could hear the heavy breathing of all the men around the table. Had they come to peace with the fact that they could die? Were they terrified? Or were they so arrogant to believe they were going to be just fine and the chamber would be empty on t
heir turn?
“Player number one, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.
I hated not being able to see what was going on, but did I really want to see the man before me die? I quickly figured out by my placement that I was going to be player number five. Not last, not first… was there really a good spot to be in? The luck of the trigger pull could end with the first man.
I heard the click of the trigger being pulled and then nothing.
No gunshot, but instead the loud exhale from what I assumed was the man who had put the gun to his head and hoped there would be no bullet.
Player number one was still alive.
“Player number two, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.
This was a sick and twisted experience. I didn’t want to hear the gunshot go off because it would mean a man just died. But then at the same time, I held my breath desperately hoping the gun would go off because it would mean my turn would never come, and I would be alive. To have to sit at a table and wish for another man’s death turned me into the living and breathing Devil—evil, sinister, and a pure monster.
The click of the gun, but no gunshot.
Player number two was alive.
“Player number three, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.
I waited, wondering what poor Makayla was doing right now. Was Rhett standing by her? Would he be able to comfort her if the chamber was full on my turn? Had I made the right decision?
The click of the gun, but no gunshot.
Player number three was alive.
Three more players and one bullet remained.
I had a one in three chance of living.
I sat in between player number four and player number six.
One of us was going to die.
Player number four was close enough to me that I could hear the revolver be placed in front of him. I could hear his breathing. I could smell his body odor, and all I could do was wait.