Feature Writer: GentleButFirm

Feature Title: THE RITUAL

Published: 13.09.2004 / Copyright© 2004 by GentleButFirm

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: As Neil Diamond said one time “It’s a fantasy, pure fantasy”… The influence of the weed was obvious, their erections like small trees before them, large and hard, and I couldn’t help comparing them…

 

The Ritual

I woke with a dull rhythmic pounding in my skull. My head wasn’t sore though. It was the drums. Lifting myself up on my elbows, I looked around, stunned by the very different viewpoint I had of the cave.

The ritual was always held here, and I’d been involved a few times before, but then I’d been one of the naked children, cavorting on the outskirts of the main event, buzzing on the aromatic smoke, and grabbing at the boys around me.

Tonight, I was lying near the center of the huge space, on a large flat rock covered with animal skins of various sorts. I was still naked, and nervous, all alone with everything happening around me.

Over near the cave entrance, I could see a group of the young adult men, naked of course, large drums slung over their shoulders on wide leather straps. They were creating the pounding bass that was sailing through my body. A complex series of practiced manoeuvres resulted in a simple beat, impractical to ignore, impossible to escape. The men were standing in a semi-circle with one of the ceremonial fires in front of them. The intoxicating smoke floated thick above them, drifting aimlessly in the largely windless cleft in the hills near our village.

Some of the young women were teasing the men, shaking their breasts in front of them, attempting to distract them from their drumming. It was fun, but a waste of time. The men wouldn’t stop until this part of the ritual was over, and I wouldn’t be lying here watching then. I wished I could be with them, teasing and giggling. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Every year one girl had to go through this, and I was honored to be chosen, but I wished it could be someone else today, and that I could go and flirt with the boys. Last time I was here I lost any trace of innocence. I groped almost anyone I could get near, high on the weed-smoke, aware that all the rules were put aside for the day. Most of my friends did things at a Ritual that they wouldn’t talk about later. I was one of them. The boys talked about it more, and I was the subject of discussion for a while. I deserved it.

As I sat there feeling the pounding of the drums, and watching the early signs of the ensuing orgy, the tribeswomen noticed I was awake, and things started to happen.

After a whispered conference near the cave entrance, the drummers increased the tempo a little, their sweaty bodies swaying in the dim light, and the attendants threw a little more weed on the fires. The smoky taste in the air became stronger, and then the girls walked toward me, in single file, their hands carrying various items. As they approached, the talking stopped, and everyone, except for the drummers, stood or sat quietly, waiting and watching.

The Headwoman came up to me now, and spoke quietly. “Lie back Leear. Let us attend you tonight. And relax girl. You’ll be alright.”

“Greetings Headwoman,” I replied, starting to recite the memorized lines. “I welcome your…”

“Yes, yes girl. I believe you learnt them. Quiet now.”

“But Headwoman…”

“Now, Leear. Just lie quietly. Feel what is happening. You cannot think your way through this. You must live it.”

The girls surrounded me then, chattering quietly amidst the smoke, and the beat. I looked at their faces, and saw their pin-like eyes. They were well under the influence already. A couple of my good friends were in the group, but they didn’t return my gaze, looking instead at the bowls and jars they carried; embarrassed perhaps. The skin on their bodies was flushed, and their nipples were erect. They were excited. I was just terrified.

There were two paths to womanhood in the tribe. Most of the girls would become attendants for a ritual, and the next day they would be regarded as grown. But every year, one girl was chosen for a special honor. This year, I was that girl, and despite wanting this for my entire life, I would have swapped places with any of the others in an instant, right then. I’d never been this close to the anointing before either, and wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen. I was about to find out.

Surrounding me quietly, and listening to the Headwoman intone a prayer, the girls all then scooped some white paste from bowls, spread it on their hands, and proceeded to touch me all over, the cold paste a shock at first, the small tender warm hands reassuring. They spread the gunk all over the parts of me that they could reach, before calling a couple of the boys over to turn me. These boys were familiar to me, but I’d never really seen them like this. The influence of the weed was obvious, their erections like small trees before them, large and hard, and I couldn’t help comparing them. They moved me in a detached way though, lifting and turning me with minimum contact, and left again, the girls turning to coat their erections with the paste before they left, flirting and carrying on shamelessly. The Headwoman had to stop one of the girls who was industriously rubbing the cock in front of her, and thrusting shamelessly at it.

Lying on my front now, breasts pressed into the skins beneath me, I couldn’t see so much, and started taking more notice of my feelings. The smoke was getting to me as well, and the touch of the hands was exciting, though normally I wasn’t at all interested in being caressed by girls. So many soft hands were kneading my back, buttocks and legs. It was very nice. Better than nice. I could feel my thighs getting damp, my arousal rising gradually, with the weed adding a certainty to the feelings.

Suddenly the paste was all rubbed in, and they stopped. My skin was hot, and I desperately wanted the hands back. I didn’t have to wait long for it to happen. An old woman walked around the group, collecting up the paste bowls, and departed with them. I knew from experience that others in the cave would take the containers and scoop out any remaining content, to rub it on themselves, their friends, or their spontaneous partners. The aphrodisiac was thoroughly reliable, especially in the presence of the weed-smoke, as I knew from experience.

The girls picked up the jugs then. I could only see those near me, but I felt it when the liquid in them started to fall on me, the precious juice dribbling slowly over my back, neck, legs and buttocks. I could feel the fluid ooze down between my buttocks, and further, mixing with my own moisture, exciting me further, caressing me somehow inside. Then the hands returned, wiping, spreading, and finally kneading the deep red plant extract deep into my skin. I could already feel the reaction between it and the white paste, and my skin fizzed with the overload as they dribbled a little more, and rubbed it in. Only in the ritual were the two aphrodisiacs mixed together. Inevitably, my terror had disappeared, replaced by a gentle but increasing arousal.

After a few minutes, or centuries, of this, the boys returned to turn me over again. I knew the rules, but tried to assist them, feeling enthusiastic, and was caught by the Headwoman. She made them put me down again, and do it properly. I reluctantly made myself appropriately limp, as required. This time, I could see a lot, and could tell how the boys anticipated this step, presenting their cocks to their preferred girl again, and allowing the girls to dribble a little of the redness on their solid poles, and rubbing it in themselves, before cupping their hands to the girl before each of them, and silently requesting additional supplies. The liquid was not placed on the penises however, but massaged into the breasts of the girls; nipples erect now, the girls smiling as they whispered to the boys. The young men and women drifted together, and hands wandered randomly, stroking cocks, caressing breasts. I could see one girl had a hand on a penis, and the other inside herself. I could understand why. I wanted to touch myself as well, but knew I was not permitted. My nipples were hard as stone, and I desperately wanted to relieve the tension. I was drenched now, between my legs, excited and willing. The nervousness was completely gone.

As another drum joined the relentless beat, the girls shooed the boys away. The boys left happily enough, knowing that they were now men, and looking forward to proving it as soon as the girls were finished with me. The girls returned to their task, dribbling the red liquid on my front now, delightfully cool over my breasts for a moment, and they caressed it into me, everywhere except my face, and between my thighs. I delighted in the rubbing even more now, relaxing to the feelings, losing myself in the attention, the massage.

As they continued turning my skin red, I could feel my level of arousal overcoming me, and as the Headwoman and her assistant gently kneaded my nipples, I was pushed gloriously past the point of no return, and I orgasmed spontaneously, my body shivering as though cold, my muscles clamping as a groan escaped my open mouth. The Headwoman looked down into my eyes. She smiled.

“Yes, Leear, nice isn’t it? I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

The girls stopped then, conversing quietly, deciding they had done enough. I could see the flush of their skins, and their erect nipples, haphazardly red. Their faces too, were flushed with excitement, as they turned one by one and kissed me, before walking off with the precious jars, arm in arm, looking for the recently promoted men.

Alone again in the middle of the cavern, my senses heightened by the attention, the potions, the weed, and the hands, I wasn’t sated at all by the orgasm, and wanted desperately to get off the table and find a willing man. There were certainly enough of them around. I could see everyone flirting around me, at a reasonable distance, couples and groups of varying sizes and ages. Not all the girls were with boys either. Those who felt the urge, or the curiosity, were flirting with the other girls, or, strangely, choosing this gathering to take care of the urges in their own bodies, inhibitions largely disposed of for a little while. The males too, were flirting with each other in some cases. Nothing was forbidden during the Ritual, so long as the participants were willing.

I could see a young cousin of mine now, his hands all over one of my best friends. He normally wouldn’t get anywhere near her, but she welcomed his attentions now, pulling him to her body, attaching her mouth to his, willing to take this as far as he wished, though not quite yet. I could see his hard cock and wanted it myself, wanted to watch them as well.

At a new change in the beat from the drums, another group of four boys came in to stand beside me. They carried a flat bowl with them, a dark heavy plate made of black stone. The plate was liberally sprinkled with a red powder; a dried version of the contents of the jugs. The boys walked around me slowly, their feet in time with the drums. Their erections were plainly obvious, as was the excitement on their faces. This, for them, was the equivalent of being chosen. I would have taken any one of them, on the spot, if I could. As they reached one side of my body, the group stopped for a moment, bowed to the audience, and turned to me. They carefully placed the heavy dish on my stomach, and two of the boys stood with their heads bowed, the audience silent again, and waiting. The other two boys walked around to the other side of the rock, and faced me. Now they surrounded the plate. They stood still, smiling, and waited.

The beat of the drums and the smell of the smoke took over. The groping and flirting stopped, and everyone in the cave stopped moving, except the drummers. At some unknown signal, the drums stopped for a moment. The boys each took their own cock in their preferred hand, and as the thump started again, they started to stroke. It didn’t take long. The thunderous simple beat, and the narcotic drugs took hold, and as they stood there, hips thrusting, hands stroking, one by one, they ejaculated, spraying semen in the bowl, and all over my stomach. These boys were young, and strong, and they produced plenty of white fluid before they stopped, smiled at each other, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and raced off. Under the influence of the weed, it wouldn’t be long before they were hard again, and successfully completing this part of the ritual meant that they were men.

As the boys left, an old man stumbled up to the rock. The Headman was much older than his wife. His important position in the tribe had convinced his current wife to take up residency after his first wife had died. Most days, he looked as though the Headwoman were sucking the life out of him, but tonight he looked majestic, covered in a skin robe with everyone else naked. His part in the Ritual was largely ceremonial, and didn’t take too long, which was just as well at his age. He said that the weed affected him just as much as the younger tribesmen, but everyone knew he was lying.

He approached the bowl carefully, and as he recited prayers quietly, he mixed the fresh semen with the powder, using the index fingers of both hands. His fingers became covered with the pink mixture, and he moved between my legs to begin the second anointing.

In both coatings that the women had prepared me with, they had left my most sensitive parts carefully untouched. The Headman began to rectify that now. Asking me politely to lift my knees and spread them apart, he began to delicately touch me, spreading a little of the mixture around my anus before moving up, and coating more of me. He stopped numerous times to obtain a little more of the mixture, but slowly and methodically he coated my labia, dipping further inside from time to time, but concentrating on the outer areas. I was dreading this part, wondering what it would be like, but, as he progressed, I could feel my muscles relaxing and my nerves pinging, and I silently begged him to keep going.

Taking a last scoop from the dish, he looked at me, smiled, and slowly, carefully, applied it to my clitoris, his hand steady for a change, his touch both firm and delicate. It was the last feeling I expected, the last thing I thought would happen, but my body started to buck beneath his tenderness, eager for more friction, a little more pressure, a precisely placed caress. He smiled then, and bent to his task, sliding his finger deep inside me, while his other hand continued to caress my clitoris, rubbing the pinkness on and in, until all the sensations were reduced to a simple rubbing. I blocked out the drums, the audience, everything around me, and I methodically fucked his hand, my body pushing against him and releasing him again and again. My hands found themselves familiarly on my breasts, and as I thrust against him one more time, and slid my dry fingers across my nipples, I came again; harder this time, and longer. I screamed, realizing suddenly that the drumming had stopped, and that everyone was waiting. I felt their release at the same time as mine, and calmed myself slowly against the Headman’s fingers. He walked away without a word, stumbling along toward the cave entrance. I could tell, as he turned from me, that his penis was protruding from the front of the robe, and I hoped, as I quivered there, that he would be able to make use of it.

Alone again, in the silence now, I knew what had to be done next. I sat up slowly on the skins, stood shakily by the rock, and looked toward the back of the cave.

Some of the men and women around me were dousing candles now, leaving only the weed burners to light the huge cave, and by the time I stumbled away from the rock the only substantial lights were those at the top of a tall fissure in the stone, right at the rear of the cave, away from the entrance, the now silent drums, and the tribe. I started to walk toward the lights, ignoring most of what was happening around me, as the organized group of helpers disintegrated into a haphazard orgy, bodies entwining as and when, people obtaining their release as best they could, or experimenting in ways they couldn’t do any other day. I could hear groans and sighs, as well as giggles and squeals of laughter from both sides of me, and knew from experience what was happening. I wished I were part of that. I was still aroused, still wanting more, but I knew that I needed to pass through those lights, and complete the last part of the Ritual, so I kept going.

The Headwoman had spoken with me about this already, and I knew, roughly, what had to happen. The area behind the fissure was sacred, and none of the men of the tribe had ever passed through the portal and lived. Apparently, long before my lifetime, some had tried, and their bodies had been found near the lights that I was just passing.

Small candles appeared as I was lost from view of the main cave, and a tunnel of sorts led further, weaving and bending for a short time before coming to another underground cavern, much smaller than the main one, but also much brighter. There must have been at least a bushel of candles melted to the rocks all around the small cave, except for one area almost opposite the entrance.

This area, brightly light by so many flickering lights, was some kind of statue, it seemed; in the rough shape of a man, larger than life, made of cold, grey, hard stone. Two strange things were apparent. Firstly, the statue’s eyes glowed. I wasn’t sure if they actually glowed, or if it was an affect of the candles, but they seemed to possess a bright yellow light, and as I walked around a little, they seemed to follow me.

The second thing was a little more immediately interesting, especially in my present state, and it surprised me, even though the Headwoman had told me what to expect in a roundabout fashion. The statue had a large solid erection, made of stone, but unlike the rest of him, it was smooth, pale, and worn. It curved upward gracefully, sparkled in the candlelight, and excited me more than I could believe.

Trying desperately now to recall the instructions of the Headwoman, I approached a nearby burner, and threw on a large stack of weed. The small cave immediately filled with smoke, and the statue promptly disappeared. Except, that is, for the two bright yellow eyes. They seemed to glow through the smoke, and I knew exactly where to go.

Taking advantage of the water left there for me, I swallowed down a large mouthful before approaching the statue. The larger than life-size form meant that I needed to climb the wall a little to get to it, and I had to grope in front of me to feel my way until I got near the wall. I could still see the eyes, as though they stared straight down at me, and could dimly make out the penis which was my destination. It struck me for a moment that this was crazy, searching for a stone cock in a dark smoky cave, but I was desperate.

Climbing carefully now in the practically dark cave, I felt my way up the stone, the smooth protrusion sliding easily down the front of my body, hand holds seeming to find themselves as I climbed, until my thighs were level with the top of the stone penis.

Without any hesitation now, I lowered myself over it, feeling the curiously warm stone slide up inside me, my wetness coating the crystalline cock, my nerves tingling. I settled on it for a moment, scared suddenly of the position I was in, but enjoying the feelings, and then I started slowly to move on it, picturing one of the boys from the tribe in my mind, his cock inside me, sliding gently, filling me, stretching me. His memory came clearly to me, and I forgot about the stone. I slowly picked up the pace, lowering and lifting myself on the smoothness, and my mind gradually clouded, bewildered somehow by the weed-smoke, confused and tired, but oh, so awake.

I could feel the tingling feeling growing deep within me, and had shut out the rest of the world, and closed my largely useless eyes, when suddenly I felt a pair of hands take hold of my butt. Large hands, capable of lifting me; strong and firm. The hands lifted me on and off the cock, and it didn’t feel like stone any more, but like a man. I kept my eyes closed, and made the most of it, rising and falling breathlessly next to his chest, not even thinking about how this could be, pumping my tenderly abused skin wetly over him, willing him to come inside me, for me to come with him.

I could feel him tensing, sweat pouring from our bodies, the friction between us hot and beautiful, and just when I thought I was immune to any outside events, the drumming started again. The beat carried us, lifted us to a new level, raised me to something I’d never felt before, and we kept moving, in time with the relentless drums, pounding each other as the drummers pounded the skins, until I could take it no more. I could feel my orgasm rising, taking me under control, when somewhere, under the weed, and the beat, and the feel of his strong arms, his own orgasm rose to meet it, and as he plunged into me one more time, he exploded, and I screamed, and he filled me with his seed, and I imagined it to be yellow, and glowing, and potent beyond reason. As I shuddered, in the embrace of his strong arms, and the pulsating pleasure of his thrusts, I opened my eyes, and stared into the strong handsome face of something that was more than a cock, more than a partner, more than a man. And I cried then, while I still shook with pleasure, knowing deep inside that I would never know him again, and that I was having his child. A small vibrant baby was growing within me. A girl, with glowing yellow eyes. His girl, and mine.

I must have collapsed then, because I woke on the floor of the cave, cold and stiff. The smoke had mostly cleared, and the walls were visible again. I looked back toward my so-recent lover, and saw only stone. The roughly scraped outline of a man was apparent. The white stone penis, glistening now with my fluids, was there, but the glow of the eyes was gone.

I stumbled out into the main cave, feeling the pain now, between my legs, and knowing with certainty that it was worth it. I was greeted, with a large warm skin to wrap up in, by the Headwoman, my mother, who had been here before me, and understood.

THE END