Sacrificed to Ecstasy (2 page)

“My parents dressed my younger sister and me as boys. I begged Faram to allow me to continue the charade, but he said I was to be his wife and should dress like it.” She would not lay blame on his dead corpse.

“A virgin.” The priestess spoke in an awed tone. “Do you know Vashon’s prophecy?”

“No. We worshipped other gods. I need to gather our belongings.”

“Yes. We should be gone from this place as quickly as possible,” the priestess agreed with startling alacrity. “We will take you with us.”

Rayan took a deep breath and dove her hands into the folds of Faram’s clothes. She wouldn’t keep what she found—she’d return it to his family. She owed it to them to report what had happened to him. She wouldn’t impose on them, but maybe they could help her find sanctuary somewhere.

The raiders had managed to steal his money belt before running her down. She’d have to ask the children if they’d found it when they searched the bodies.

She removed Faram’s ring and the few items he carried that the raiders hadn’t had time to steal—his merchant ledger, his metal fire starter, and his leather water bladder. Standing, she looked around for her small bundle of clothes and the horse that carried the merchandise Faram peddled. She spotted the clothes a few feet away, but the horse wasn’t within sight in any direction. She remembered hearing it whinny in fright. It was probably halfway to the nearest village by now, if other raiders hadn’t caught it. Faram had been proud of the spirited brown beast. A more placid animal might not have wandered far or bolted. She must not speak ill of Faram now.

The children arrived as she reclaimed her bundle. With a calm moment to study them Rayan saw how poor and ill-fed they were. Their bones showed clearly under their skin. Their dingy gray clothing was stitched and patched to repair tears. She decided not to ask about Faram’s money belt. They needed it more than she did.

The children glanced from Faram’s body to Rayan to Elida. Elida shook her head. “This is Rayan’s betrothed. His belongings are hers.”

Rayan insisted, “It’s all right. Take anything you want. I have what I need.” She tucked Faram’s belongings into hers.

The children looked again to Elida for permission. “Do so, but hurry. We must start back to the village. These raiders might have been part of a larger group.”

As the children knelt beside Faram’s body, the priestess took a protective stance with her staff held ready. She nodded toward the children. “The boy is Barnd, the brown-haired girl, Davina, and the blonde is Sylvan. Their families thank you for your charity.”

“I hope they will consider it enough for food and lodging for one night.”

“Child, you can afford many years of lodging if you would fulfill Vashon’s prophecy.”

“I own nothing but clothing. Faram’s things are not mine to barter. I am a simple merchant’s daughter with no shop and no merchandise. I have nothing of value to any of the gods, especially the god of fertility. My betrothed is dead and I told you I never lay with him.”

“And that is what you have to offer that is priceless.”

“My virginity?” Rayan whispered. But if she’d hoped to avoid the children’s attention as they rose and joined the two women, that one word had the opposite effect. Their formerly guarded, ancient eyes sparkled with interest and something else.

Elida ushered them back toward the mountain. “That is the prophecy, yes. If a virgin will willingly give that gift to Vashon, he will bless us once more.”

“The gods no longer walk with men, so how could this be accomplished? I will not lie with a mortal man who claims to be filled with the spirit of Vashon. If that is what someone claims as a prophecy, it is a lie.”

Elida pressed Rayan’s arm as they climbed the path that angled up the mountainside. “No man speaks Vashon’s words to me. Vashon speaks them directly.”

“Perhaps there was an error in interpretation.”

“There was no error.”

“Then how could it be accomplished? I have begged for the gods’ intercession for more than a year. They have not appeared to me or answered. It does not look like Vashon answers you, his own priestess.”

“He asked for the one thing I could not deliver—a virgin.”

“But surely you are…”

Elida shook her braided head. “Even I have been violated by raiders.”

Rayan sucked in a breath. The god had not even come to the priestess’s rescue. Why, then, did the priestess think Vashon would appear to lie with a virgin? The thought, coming so close to her attack, should have made her shudder. Yet the idea titillated. A god’s loving would surely be an experience like no other. And Vashon was depicted as a virile, handsome man. She shook off thoughts that stirred a strange fluttering low in her belly.

“All of the village women, even the older girls, have been victims. It is almost as though the raiders want to prevent the prophecy’s fulfillment so they can continue their reign of terror. All that is left are the female children, and Vashon would destroy us were we to ask this of a child, and deservedly so.” The priestess’s face hardened and her fists clenched. Then despair washed her expression clean. She again pierced Rayan with a bright, intense gaze. The children stared at Rayan with equal intensity.

“I have prayed for an answer to the prophecy for so long. I had begun to think we would have to wait for Davina or Sylvan to mature, fearing every year they might not make it to maturity unmolested. But now you have arrived.”

“I have never been someone’s answer,” Rayan protested. “I was a daughter when my father needed a son. I was plain instead of beautiful, so I could not attract a wealthy husband. I was too thin and too tall instead of womanly. I was another mouth to feed in a country ravaged by violence. I was interested in my father’s business instead of more womanly pursuits. I don’t see how I can be your answer.”

“You can choose to be the answer. Choice is needed to fulfill the prophecy anyway. A woman must give her chastity in joy to the statue of Vashon.”

“I don’t understand. How would a woman give her chastity to a statue?”

“The same way she would give it to a man.”

“But a statue cannot move.”

“The prophecy is about giving, about heart as well as body. Come, I will show you.”

They had reached the mountaintop. Down below her the farmland stretched in a semicircle around a cluster of wooden buildings. But at this time of year the land should have been green and gold with new crops. Instead, she saw various shades of brown earth. Had the raiders stolen the tools to till the soil? Had too many of the farmers been killed?

Elida led Rayan down the mountain path. Dust puffed from her sandals with each step. Stones skittered down the hillside ahead of her. The trees thinned and now she saw the brown color was not earth, but seared and stunted plants dying in the fields.

“The crops will not grow,” Elida explained. “And we cannot survive here without food.”

They crossed a small wooden bridge. The stream was but a trickle.

“The water grows scarce too,” Elida said.

They passed a thatched hut. A thin woman carried a thin child on her bony hip. She stared, her brown eyes sad.

“Her husband was killed by raiders,” Elida said. “She has three small children.”

Rayan could not speak.

They passed another thatched hut, more thin children, more crops stunted and shriveled in dying fields.

The dirt lane led under a stone archway into the village. In the square Rayan saw the statue immediately and stumbled to a stop. It was gray marble, a tall man roped with muscles. A naked man…with a huge erection.

The priestess tugged Rayan forward until she was close enough to touch.

Someone had skillfully carved a man in exquisite detail, his sculpted musculature, his proud stance, his eyes shining with triumph, his seductive smile, his arms outstretched in welcome, his long hair braided back from his strong face with beads. His powerful thighs and tight butt made Rayan believe he knew how to wield that erection, as a god of fertility should, and that any woman he entered would be fully satisfied. He was beautiful in every way. Sheer masculine perfection. He seemed to look right at her, calling to her deep, feminine core, which clenched in response. Her heart and breathing speeded up. This wasn’t Vashon. It was a stone statue. How could it excite her?

His erection drew her gaze again. It was perfectly formed. She’d seen naked warriors, but the size of his… She swallowed. It would fill her completely. He thrust it proudly toward her, inviting her to touch him and to do more than that.
You want me
, he seemed to say.
I want you.

Her face burned with her heated thoughts. “It’s stone. Hard stone.”

“It is smooth. If oiled, it can be done.”

Rayan sputtered. “His cock is so big.”

“It is the embodiment of Vashon’s virility and fertility. There will be pain, yes, but there would be pain with any man the first time. But being a virgin means he is first. A god must be first in our lives. We have not honored the gods as we should for far too long. Now Vashon asks that one person step forward and lead the way for others back into his loving arms. He will not accept anything less.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do. I am not asking you to endure more than the village women have endured at the hands of raiders, what you nearly endured yourself. We will help you, for the prophecy says you must experience joy with Vashon as well as pain. Please, you said you would do anything to repay us.”

Rayan looked at the huge cock and swallowed. These people had saved her from being raped, only to ask her to do this. Villagers had come to stand around her, thin men and women. The men sported injuries from minor to severe—some wore bandages, some walked with supporting sticks, some limped and there were other assorted injuries. All of their faces pleaded.

“Please help us,” one thin woman with a knife scar on her cheek begged.

“We have nowhere to go,” an old man leaning on a crutch said. “And we will die here. If we are not killed first.”

Rayan looked at the statue again. The cock seemed huge. She’d have to climb something just to get to it. Then how to get the deed done without falling? She feared the pain, feared the size of him would hurt worse.

But looking around at the people who had saved her, who had been suffering under the gods’ abandonment for so long, she knew she must do this. Vashon’s arms welcomed her. His look of triumph seemed to tell her he couldn’t wait to be joined with her. His seductive smile said he would make her body sing. Her tight pussy tingled and her core clenched.
Come
, he signaled.
I will fill you as you have never been filled before.

She nodded, to the god, to the priestess, to the villagers, unable to speak past the nerves that blocked speech. She felt the villagers’ relief like a sigh.

The priestess scanned the sky. “The sun will set in an hour. You will give yourself to Vashon at that time. Come, let us prepare.”

An hour? Rayan needed more time, and yet she wanted this to be over. The priestess and several women led her to a small cottage close by. The woman who owned the house gave her bread and a wedge of cheese to eat. Rayan looked at the thin woman who’d given freely of her precious store of food. The woman smiled and squeezed Rayan’s hand.

“Eat. You need it more than I do.”

As Rayan nibbled, the women dragged in a wooden tub and a precious bucketful of water. Thankfully they left Rayan alone to wash. Hysterical laughter rose in her throat. She was cleansing herself for a stone lover.

But at the thought of Vashon’s seductive smile her breasts tightened and her nipples peaked into painful, aching nubs. Her pussy clenched and wept tears of joy at the thought of his cock. Vashon knew how to satisfy. He was made for pleasure. She would do her best to please him.

The women returned as she finished. She covered her breasts from their view.

“But you are beautiful,” the priestess exclaimed. “Vashon will be pleased.”

The other women nodded.

Rayan knew he already was. She felt him calling to her in the same way the mountain had earlier. Had it been Vashon all along? She shook off the question. All she was sure was that he wanted inside her body. And his wanting was fierce and urgent.

“He will bless us once again for giving him you,” the youngest woman said.

“Come, it is time,” Elida urged.

Rayan reached for her torn dress, but the priestess stayed her hand. “You go to Vashon a virgin. You do not need to cover yourself.”

As the women walked her to the statue Rayan fought a lifetime of modesty. Her arm muscles ached from holding them stiff at her sides. Small stones, still warm from the sun, pressed into her bare feet. The square was partially shaded where the sun sank behind the mountain. But the statue was aglow with the setting sun. Vashon’s smile rivaled that glow. He looked so happy to have a lover coming to him at last.

Someone had placed a wooden ladder against the statue’s outstretched arm. Rayan swallowed hard. She reminded herself any virgin’s first time brought some discomfort.

The priestess halted before the ladder. “We have oiled Vashon’s cock to ease your way and have brought more for you to use on your own body. Would you like help applying oil to yourself?”