Package Deal

by Jess Bentley

  They all rock back and forth, raising their voices in unison. But it's a chant, not an angry mob. It's dutiful. It's determined.

  Owen meets my eyes, his lips pressed into a hard, grim line. Silent agreement passes between us. He knows exactly what to do.

  As he raises the hatchet, I turn away and walk back out of the clearing, threading my way through my Family. They don’t even see me. Everyone’s eyes are pinned to Seth and Owen.

  I don't need to watch it. I hear it when it happens. That definitive thud, when Seth loses the tip of a finger.

  When I see Melissa out of the corner of my eye, I pivot slightly to my left and almost run directly into Angel. She looks up at me, startled, breathing shallowly through her mouth. Her cheeks are pink, her fingers tugging thoughtfully at the sides of her cotton shift.

  I’m not sure precisely what to say to her but I hear Owen’s voice behind me and turn around just in time.

  “Go to your mother,” he tells her, over my shoulder. I turn to look at him. He waits a moment, presumably for Angel to walk away, before lowering his chin to speak confidentially to me.

  “The aunties want it done tonight,” he says.

  “Tonight? With everything else that happened today?”

  He shrugs. “They feel that Seth made the situation more urgent, I guess. Mary said the aunties all want it tonight.”

  I stretch back, rolling my shoulders look it up at the blue, cloudless sky. I remember suddenly that there has not been any rain in quite a while. Everything is so dusty and parched right now.

  Owen is still staring intently at me when I relax.

  “Well, I thought we weren't entirely decided on what to do with her, were we?”

  He shifts his eyes to the left and right. He's uneasy talking about this in a public space. I agree with a curt nod and turn to walk to a more secluded spot. Once out of earshot, he begins again.

  “The aunties want it done right away. If we don't want to negotiate the issue with them, we have to do it. Tonight.”

  I nod. He's got a point. They'll definitely want to have some input on this decision if we let them. It’s best to not even get them involved.

  “But I don’t want to rush into this, and find out we needed her sold. I don’t want it to come to that, but to be perfectly frank…”

  “We’re in trouble,” he finishes the thought for me.

  I can’t quite say it out loud, but my silence says enough.

  “It would still on the table, even after the ceremony,” he continues.

  “Dustin expects a virgin. You know that,” I counter.

  He spits into the dirt. “The guys at Dustin wouldn't know any better anyway. She's got that virgin look about her. That'll probably last for a while, no matter if we go through the ceremony or not.”

  That she does. The pink tip of her nose. The innocent eyes. The suggestive ways that she does things that she doesn't even know are suggestive.

  “We could just leave her intact,” I suggest. “It’s unusual, I know, but it might be the best way to leave all the options open.”

  “That’s not right,” he objects. The sharpness in his voice startles me, and I begin to realize there’s more to this that he has admitted.

  “Are you… interested in her?” I ask. I don't look at him, though. I'm not sure why.

  “Am I interested in her?” he huffs, offended. “Listen, Silas, I'm just thinking about all of us. You're the one who suggested —”

  I hold up a hand to silence him. I don't need to hear this. His objections don’t ring true.

  “Perhaps, since you’re fond of her,” I continue as though he said nothing, “you should lead the ceremony.”

  I hear his breath instantly go ragged. He does want her. Something inside me finds that unacceptable. I’m not sure why. What is it about this girl that seems to haunt and inspire both of us? Do I even want to know?

  “I will do whatever needs to be done,” he sighs finally, measuring his words carefully. That's a good sign. At least he realizes something unusual is going on.

  “Sun’s almost down,” I observe, squinting at the horizon. This seems so sudden, it practically takes my breath away. Now? With the sun going down?

  Then again, why do I mind? This has all been so mechanical for the last decade, why should I care? It’s not something to be savored. It’s not something to even really be concerned over. It's just a duty. Just part of what binds the Family together. It's just how we bring the girls to womanhood, then to marriage. How we ensure that Kingdom Come survives as a Family.

  I try to shake the thoughts out of my head. I need to have a clear head now.

  “Well if that's what they require, then we will do it tonight. But leave her intact. Just in case.”

  “Tonight,” he agrees somberly.

  We separate, and I hurry back to my shack to clean myself and clear my head. I rush through the prayers I'm supposed to recite, the words just tumbling through my head without too much thought. What is this… eagerness? Excitement?

  Her face flashes again in my memory. The way she looked at me in the late afternoon sun, lit golden by the light. Surprised, awestruck. Yet willing and trusting. The perfect little mate.

  It's almost dark when I meet Owen in the barn, changed into our robes and ready to begin as we have done so many times before. We take our places on our carved wooden thrones and face the door.

  The lights are on. I practically hear the electricity zinging through the wires. Somehow the floor has been swept. Who found the time? But here it is. We are ready.

  I hear the people outside, the voices excitable and encouraging. Their footsteps pound against the dry ground.

  The door slides open definitively, and there she is. She’s lovely, dressed in the traditional shift. It hangs all the way down to the floor, revealing the curve of her shoulders, bits of her calves flashing through the slits up the sides as she shifts her weight around nervously.

  Four aunties gather around her. She licks her lips and glances at everything, then looks at the door as though slightly surprised at how simple it was to open.

  Mary's there, scowling imperiously next to Agatha. Annie looks irritable and distracted, and Melissa seems a little wobbly on her feet.

  If they expect to watch me take her virginity, this isn’t going to work.

  Annie and Agatha reach for the door to drag it closed behind the group. I stand and raise a hand.

  “Stop,” I call out. Everyone turns to look at me, including the Family members gathered outside.

  I take a deep breath.

  “Just Angel,” I announce. The words hang in the air for a second.

  Brother Owen stands up close to me. “What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice.

  “Preserving our shot at a future,” I growl back, careful to keep my voice low.

  “Can’t you just fake it? They’re not going to let this happen.”

  “No,” I reply flatly. The truth is, I know I couldn’t fake it. The throbbing hard on beneath my robes is proof of that. I want to tear her to pieces. It’s killing me.

  I hear Mary clear her throat.

  “Pardon me, Father Daddy?” she calls out from the other end of the room. “I don't think I heard you?”

  “Just Angel,” I say again, meeting her eyes so that she understands my meaning. “The rest of you can leave. We won't need your services tonight.”

  The aunties cluster together to discuss, but I'm not looking at them. I'm only looking at Angel, meeting her eyes across the room, trying to telegraph what I'm thinking directly to her. Maybe not everything I'm thinking, but the basic message that she is safe. That she's right to be here. Even alone.

  I have a plan. I need her to trust in my plan.

  “No!” Melissa barks, her ugly self-centeredness raging to the surface. Annie snatches her by the elbow and drags her toward the door. Agatha and Mary tip their heads together, muttering furiously.

  But they know they have to obey. This may be t
he first time a deflowering ceremony has occurred without the assistance of the aunties’ protocols, but my word is law. I'm sure we can muddle through without their ‘assistance.’

  Mary finally shoos her sisters back through the entrance and pulls on the door with all her might. She closes it slowly, glaring at me the entire time, letting me know that that's not the last time we’re going to speak about this.

  But I can hardly care about that now.

  We have a ceremony to undertake.

  Angel

  As the door shuts behind me, I almost forget to breathe. The last thing I see is my mother's face. She stands completely still, her eyes wide with shock, her brow knitted in confusion.

  This is not what they told me was going to happen. Mary gave me this new dress for the ceremony, and I hold the side flaps closed as I stand here and stare at the closed door for a few seconds. They told me the dress would cover me, but it feels like it's going to fly open at any second. They also told me they would tell me everything I needed to know. They were going to give me instructions. They were supposed to walk me through it.

  But now, it seems like I don't know anything. I barely remember how to breathe.

  Turn around, I tell myself. Turn around. Father Daddy wanted it to be this way. You have to trust him.

  Slowly, I force myself to turn around. My heartbeat is so loud in my ears that I strain to listen in case they want to talk to me. Will they be giving me instructions now? What am I supposed to do? I really don't know.

  Only, I sort of do know. I know what's going to happen eventually, anyway. I saw it all when Obedience had her ceremony.

  And I feel it inside me again. My demon. It wakes up, pulsing. It fills me with a red heat, hungry to see what happens next.

  Brother Owen and Father Daddy are both looking right at me. Maybe they know how I’m suddenly on fire. Maybe they can hear it too.

  Or maybe Father Daddy told Brother Owen about my demon. I know he said there's nothing wrong with me, but then…. why are we doing this now? Today? It must be some kind of emergency.

  “Angel,” Father Daddy calls out. “Come closer, girl.”

  I force my feet to move. I feel the hard, dusty boards beneath my toes. Someone must have swept in here, but it's still gritty. I even hear the skin of my heels on the floor. That, and the sound of my breath. Those are the only sounds as I walk carefully forward, pinching the sides of my shift closed. I feel a breeze sliding across my belly underneath it.

  I feel so naked. The demon groans.

  Brother Owen holds a hand out in midair, beckoning me with his fingers. I swallow, hard. Am I supposed to say something?

  It's all I can do to try to remain calm as I approach the platform. I stop just before it, waiting for instructions.

  “Come up here with us,” Father Daddy murmurs. His eyes are green. I never really noticed that before. They are intense and dark, almost as dark as the forest in shadow.

  I have to let go of my garment to raise my knee to step up. I feel it slide open almost all the way to my armpits. Brother Owen's eyes flicker toward my side and I wonder how much of me he just saw.

  “It's all right,” Father Daddy says in a low voice. “You don’t have anything to be worried about. We will help you. We're here to help.”

  I stare at him, trying to connect. I want to know if this is punishment for my confession. I feel the answer must be in his eyes. Is this one of the traditional forms of discipline? Is that why the aunties had to leave?

  But there's nothing but intense curiosity in his eyes. Well… actually, there is something else. Something that burns.

  He clears his throat. His voice is gravelly and ominous. “Brother Owen and I have discussed your situation… do you remember? What you told me this morning?”

  My hands fly up to cover my mouth. Oh! So it is all about that. I’m so embarrassed. I want to run away. I want to explain.

  But before I can say anything, Father Daddy reaches out and grasps my hands lightly, drawing them away from my mouth.

  “There's no need to hide, child,” he scolds me gently. “You can’t hide anything from us.”

  I glance at Brother Owen, who was also nodding. He looks at me with the same sort of intense, smoldering gaze. His features seem thickened, more masculine I've ever seen. He is breathing through his parted lips, and I can almost hear the sound.

  “I want you to remember what you told me. Are you remembering it?” Father Daddy asks me.

  I nod quickly. Yes, I remember every word. In fact I feel it throbbing just under the surface, pulsing like a light.

  “That's a natural part of you, Angel. It’s hidden to children, and even some adults. Brother Owen is going to show you… how to access it.”

  Brother Owen breathes sharply in, exchanging a very serious look with Father Daddy. Father Daddy nods almost imperceptibly, as though giving him permission or something.

  Brother Owen unties the cord around his neck and removes his cloak. It falls to the ground with the soft sound, revealing him in all his masculine glory.

  He looks different close up. Smooth, like leather. His skin is tanned and beautiful, rippling under over rows of muscles. There is a neat V shape over his hips that points directly down into the wiry thatch of hair that crowns his erect manhood.

  My breath catches my throat. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. Obedience opened her mouth. Am I supposed to…

  “Please sit,” he says in a gentle growl. He holds his hand out to the throne behind him. I choke back a gasp. His throne? He wants me to sit there?

  Obediently I shuffle toward the throne and tug my shift upward slightly so that I can sit on the very edge. It's quite tall, a little too tall for me. I have to balance on my tiptoes.

  “That's good,” he tells me. “Now, please lift the front of your gown.”

  My heart beats wildly against the inside of my chest as I nod nervously and try to command my fingers to do as he's asked me. Slowly I gather the fabric into my hands and raise the front of my dress above my knees, then over my thighs. His eyes are transfixed on my skin as it is revealed, inch by inch.

  “That's good,” he murmurs again, and to my surprise he falls to his knees in front of me. I've never seen this. Is he praying?

  I watch in awe as he kisses the inside of my knee. His hand traces the top of my other thigh, nudging it gently outward. I bite back a mewl of discomfort as the demon twists inside me. I don't want him to know about it. He can't know.

  “It's all right,” Father Daddy says, coming alongside me. He also unknots the cord and removes his robe. “What you are feeling is completely natural. It's the womanhood that lies inside you. It's the holiest part of you, and you're blessed to know it.”

  I gasp as Brother Owen slides his tongue along the inside of my thigh, nudging himself toward my flower. This is really happening?

  “That's it,” Father Daddy encourages me. “Open yourself to Brother Owen. Share yourself with him.”

  I hold my breath and let my thighs fall further open. Brother Owen groans deeply and presses his face closer to me. I feel his breath at my sex. Then I feel his tongue: slippery, soft, and incredibly warm. It flicks slightly across my seam.

  Brother Daddy takes my hand and disengages it from where I have been clawing the arm of the throne. He turns my hand over and lays his erect member across my palm. My fingers close automatically over it and I'm momentarily diverted from what Brother Owen is doing to explore this new, strange sensation. It’s velvety soft, rigid but covered with skin that slips back and forth. It’s so thick that my fingers barely close around it. When I use a little bit more pressure, he begins to pulse against my palm, thrusting slightly.

  I glance up at him, surprised to see that his expression is so intense, so focused on me. Has he been staring at me this entire time? He looks magnificent, looming over me like a god. I find myself smiling in gratitude. He nods as though he understands and begins to pulse a little more, drawing his member a couple inches b
ack in my hand and then forward again.

  But it's so hard to concentrate. Owen’s breath warms my sex as his tongue swipes slowly up and down. I feel myself unfurling, opening to his lips. He moans again, and the vibrations tickle me through my hips.

  My demon… is my womanhood? Yes, it's not a demon, but it is so strong. It shakes itself like an animal rising from sleeping. It twists again as his tongue plunges deeper, circling me. I find myself pressing back onto him, grappling with urges to feel more pressure in places I've never felt before.

  My body knows exactly what to do. I move automatically and direct his eager mouth to suckle me gently, humming and groaning as he explores me further.

  I hear myself moaning also. My free hand slides forward and pushes the top of Brother Owen's head, tangling in his close shorn hair and pulling him harder toward me. The demon... my womanhood swells, filling me drastically. My hips circle and buck against Owen’s mouth and the feeling gets even bigger. It fills me up. It seems to explode like fireworks. Again I see that white hot light going off like a rocket and then trickling down in shimmering sparks across the inside of my eyelids. I grip him to me tightly as my legs clench over and over again.

  “Yes! Yes!” I hear myself cry out.

  Brother Owen slows, letting my body rock against his mouth for a few more long seconds as cool waves of bliss push me back and forth. My heart races. I am filled with joy.

  How could I have thought this was a demon? Obviously this is some kind of magic. Some kind of secret, womanly gift. I'm so grateful to him for showing me the way. So, so grateful.

  My body quakes and shudders, covered with a warm, prickling sweat. I feel amazing, and I can't believe the magic they've shown me.

  And yet, I know there's more.

  Brother Owen pulls back, smiling and brushing his bottom lip with the back of his hand. I slip to the side and leave the throne.

  “What are you —”

  Making sure I have the position right, I lay down exactly where Obedience laid down. This part of the ceremony, I already know.

  “Oh,” Father Daddy sighs. Again, he exchanges a look with Brother Owen.

  He sits in his throne and gazes at me. His member is still erect and lays heavy against his thigh, regal and firm.