by Paul Blades
Paula had remained obediently silent but for her sobs and moans all during her captivity. Now she tried to call out to the women for mercy. “..leeee! ... leeeee! ... leeeeee!” she tried to yell, her filled mouth unable to form the complete words. Her frantic voice was muffled by the stifling object they had put in it. She could hear the muted and strained voices of her friends as they made their own supplications. Their noises could barely be distinguished amidst the monotonous, rhythmic chanting. Paula pulled at her bound wrists in agonized fear.
The big woman waved her arms and the chanting sunk down to a low moan. The girls who had washed them ran up to the bound and frightened girls and, stepping behind them, took solid grips of their heads, immobilizing them. The big woman approached Penny, to Paula's right and two other women came with her holding wooden bowls in their hands. Out of the corner of her eye, Paula could see the woman daubing the contents of the bowls on Penny's pretty, uplifted face. She came to Paula next, and the girl felt the woman's strong fingers make lines and circles on her. As she moved to Paula's left, the girls released her. Paula looked over at Penny and moaned in despair when she saw the bright green, yellow and red markings covering her cheeks, chin and forehead.
When all the girls had been painted, the big woman stood. She had some kind of rattle in her hand and she began to shake it and walk around the helpless, bound girls. Two of the women in front released the pole which had so cruelly pressed against Paula and her hapless friends’ necks. Two others approached Paula and, when the big woman untied her hands and ankles from behind her, quickly forced her to the ground onto her breasts and belly. A woman sat on her flailing legs and she felt strong hands pull her arms up behind her back and cross them. Paula cried and screamed in pain as her shoulder muscles strained. She felt a leather thong tying them together tightly and then she was pulled back up to her knees and the ends of the thong were draped across her shoulders, between and under her bare breasts and than back around her where they were tied off together.
Her arms aching, oddly trussed, Paula felt the ball being pried from her mouth. She opened it to scream for help, mercy, anything, when a thick piece of wood covered thickly with leather jammed between her teeth. It had leather laces fixed at its ends and she felt them being tied behind her. When the primitive gag was secured, a coarse, leather bag was pulled over her head. Before it shut out her vision, she saw her friend Jane, her eyes widened with terror, her lips pulled back in a strange grimace, her painted face almost unrecognizable.
The girls were led by a leash around their necks. A strong hand held it close to Paula's chin and every time her knees gave out from frantic fear, it pulled her up and made her keep walking. The drums were loud now and she could hear what sounded like hundreds of people chanting and singing all around her. She sensed people on either side of her, jammed closely together. Her head was swimming with foreboding and her stomach churned. The drums stopped and there was silence. Suddenly, her hood was lifted and she was dragged forward. Her eyes couldn't believe what she saw although her ears had given her sufficient premonition of it. There was a large raging fire in the middle of a vast crowd. Its dancing light made macabre the crowd of people that encircled it. All of the people wore Indian costumes, and the dark, strange faces of most of them were painted. She didn't have much time to look at them since she was hurried to a large dais. Two naked women were kneeling there, bound to stakes on either side of it. They looked like they were in some kind of trance. One was white, with pale skin and flaming red hair. The other was clearly an Indian girl, with dark skin and long, black hair. Their red painted faces were slack and their eyes rolled back strangely. Sitting in chairs on the platform were two men, one an old, wizened Indian man with a cruel expression and half covered by a heavy, fur robe and the other, a tall, broad shouldered white man dressed in a bright, white costume and a large, black, furry hat.
Paula felt like she was being presented to the men. She became conscious of her nakedness, her cruel bindings and her lurid, painted face. The tall, younger man's eyes caught hers and a wave of fear passed through her. She felt like the man had penetrated her mind. She was struck by a painful, inner loneliness, despair so deep she almost fainted. She was grateful when he shifted his steely, mesmerizing gaze to the other grotesquely bound women.
Paula had not noticed the painted and feathered men who had been standing near the platform when she was brought there. One of them came up next to her and took hold of her leash from the Indian woman. The man's appearance terrified her. He was painted all over with strange designs and had a sinister, macabre headdress on filled with feathers and shells and little pieces of bone. He was breathing heavily and was wearing only a loin cloth. His strong, muscular, dark skinned body was covered with sweat.
The old man stood and waved his hands at the crowd and the drums and chanting began again. Paula felt herself being dragged away from the dais toward the fire. “Oh, god!” she thought, “He's going to throw me in!” She fought against the man. He was strong and he dragged her by the leash, his hand under her chin, until they reached a place on the side of the fire. He pushed her to her knees harshly. Paula tried to crawl away. He grabbed her foot and dragged her back. He pulled her up by her hair and forced her back against a wooden stake. She felt him tying off her bound wrists behind her to it. When he was done, he wrapped a wide leather band around her neck and secured it there too.
Paula peered hopelessly out at the crowd of weirdly decorated, lustful faces. The fire behind her lit them grotesquely. She could see her shadow and the shadow of her captor flutter about, long and large, as the huge flames danced behind her, throwing out an intense heat. Through the crowd's rhythmic, tonal singing, she could hear the loud crackle and pops of the raging conflagration. The demon like man who had bound her to the stake placed looped thongs around her ankles and then raised them, tying them off cruelly to her thighs. Her knees were spread and tied off to stakes on either side. She was completely immobile, balanced on her knees, her bare body ready for whatever these mad, devilish people wanted to impose on her. Her heart cried out in frantic fear. “Uhhhh! Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhhh!” she screamed through her enforced grimace. “Uhhhhhhhhhh!"
The demon man began to dance around her as the dread filled drums reverberated through her whole body. “This can't be happening!” she thought dismally. It was like a horror movie! It couldn't be real!
Blackthorne felt the lust arise from the crowd. The strangely painted faces of the bound and naked white girls had been pretty. Their eyes had been full of fear. He had probed each of their minds and filled them with sharp stabs of despair. He read their stories quickly, enjoying reliving their days of terrified seclusion, their mind numbing anxiety as they were prepped for the ceremony. This was his test. The Apaches had kidnapped these women, women he had never seen before, to see whether his manipulation of the other females was a trick of some kind. He could imagine them tearing him apart if he failed. But he would not fail. It would be easy. His powers were surging as a result of the lustful crowd and the abject fear of their sacrifices to him.
Slowly, Blackthorne rose from his chair and stepped from the platform. The ominous drums and the musical chants from the crowd seemed an appropriate backdrop to his prospective subjugation of the forlorn, desirable young girls. He decided to do the long haired, blond girl first. She was facing east, where the sun rose. He walked over to within a few feet in front of her. He drank up her frantic terror as her wild eyes met his. The Apache dancer stopped and pulled away to give him room. He sent the powers of his mind into the mind of the kneeling, helpless, spread-eagled girl. Her body shuddered and her eyes, already wide from her bone chilling fear, grew wider as she felt him alter her, twist her perceptions, bind her to him.
Paula felt like the fearsomely attired white man had reached his hand into her brain and clenched his fist over it. She immediately saw him for the god that he was, an evil, vengeful god who fed on pain and fear. She could not break from his gaze and her body
shook in her bonds. Suddenly, a pain worse than she ever felt before surged through her. It was not a physical pain, but a pain in her soul. Her insides twisted in agony. All of her fear and despair over the last few days seemed to become magnified a hundred fold. She watched as he stripped his loincloth and flung it on the ground. His cock was hard and thick. And then she felt the man caress her brain with his mind, mingling an irresistible wave of intense, sexual desire with her agony. She began to hunger for him to possess her, lay his hands on her flesh. She tried to resist the dreadful urges he had forced upon her. What was left of her conscious mind rebelled while all other parts of her yearned for him. She had been right, in part, in her speculations about why the people had captured her, prepared her, said their heathen prayers over her. She was a sacrifice. This man was their god of lust and she was their offering to him. And she had been thrown into a fire, or rather, one had been built inside her, as every pore of her body burned with desire for the cruel god who was now her master.
Jonathan's rampant loins were offset by his pale, white leggings and tunic, and the enthralled young woman's gaze was drawn to it. He stepped closer to the wildly impassioned girl so he could lay his hands on her. He took her full, firm, proffered breasts in his hands and he let his psychic force flow through them. The naked woman's eyes rolled back and she gave a great moan of lust, fear and despair all in one. He could feel her emotions run wild inside her. He caressed the plump, soft mounds, enjoying their feel and weight, letting his own passions grow until his need swelled within him. Reaching behind her head, he untied the harsh gag that bisected her widestretched lips. He took his hot, thick cock in his hand and presented it to her yearning mouth, tantalizingly just out of her reach.
Paula had never felt a need so intense as the need to encompass the white demon's flesh between her lips. She strained her neck and pursed her lips to capture it. Her bound hands twisted behind her, straining to get free. Her feet pulled hard on the bindings on her ankles, yearning to bring her to him.
When Jonathan sensed the crowd had taken full measure of the storm of lust he had generated in the pretty, young, white girl, he pushed his outstretched rod towards her mouth. He could feel the surge of passion in her mind as he slid it over her hungry lips and entered her.
Paula had never felt such pleasure before as the thick meat filled her mouth and dragged along her tongue. She had sucked her boyfriend's cock. It was never like this. She pursed her lips around the man's member and drank at it feverishly. She could feel lust radiating from its every pore. It was magical, it was suffused with power. She could only move her head slightly and she was frustrated in her desire to stroke it, to bring it ecstasy. When she felt it begin to slowly slide in and out, she gripped it tightly with her lips, madly intent on granting it every measure of pleasure she could give.
Blackthorne, his hands still on the delirious girl's head, made the adjustments to her being that would make her a slave to the amulet. He showed it to her in her mind, sending her a terrifying fear of it and a terrible lust for its creator and his minions. He washed away all other desires except to serve her masters with every ounce of her being. He preserved a part of her though. She would remember her transformation, she would remember that she had been damned and that she had experienced mind numbing lust and pleasure when it happened.
Paula felt the man's passion rising and rising. She reviled herself for her shameful need for his essence. Although she knew the man had forced himself upon her, had altered her mind, she cursed herself for her sinful lust.
When the man's cock began to throb and spasm in her mouth, Paula's body began to shake convulsively. Her pussy had been burning and it now exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. She consumed the man's copious spunk greedily, feeding on his long, full flow of salty, viscous fluid. As it entered her body, she felt his semen meld with her, binding her to him and the evil symbol he had placed in her mind.
Blackthorne left the blond girl to wallow in despair and sorrow over the loss of her soul. He stepped before the next helplessly bound girl, who faced south. She was thin with long, brown hair. Her pretty brown eyes stared back at him frantically. Her weirdly painted face cringed when she felt the first powerful pulse of his psyche enter her mind. Before he plunged his manhood into her soon to be yearning mouth, he took a moment to reveal to her what she was about to become. He felt her mind rebel in frantic panic. She tried to plead with him to spare her, her words distorted by her grotesque gag. Her eyes begged him for mercy. Her torso yanked and tugged at the bindings behind her. And then he filled her with a desperate, gnawing need for him. A minute later, she closed her eyes dreamily as she drank at his throbbing tool.
He finished with the thin, boyish, short blond haired girl quickly. She was the prettiest of the kidnapped girls, her body long and elegant. While she sucked eagerly on his prick, her will bound irretrievably to his, he probed her innermost thoughts and fears. He felt her hidden and suppressed disappointment for her pert, pointy breasts. He converted it to a deep, intense shame and, at the same time, made them almost unbearably sensitive to stimulation so they would be the seat of her desire, so she would yearn to have them suckled and caressed despite her humiliation at exposing them. Her slender hips and long torso were boyish. He drew a ring of need around her small, rear entrance so that if anyone wanted to use her there, she would groan and writhe with pleasure.
The last was the voluptuous brown haired one. After he filled her with fear and lust, he knelt before her and placed his lips on her teats, sucking on them long and hard until her body shook and shuddered with a frantic need for completion. He placed his hand between her widespread, bound thighs and took possession of her vulva, pouring his power through it, making the young woman jerk and spasm with pleasure. He made her come three agonizing times before he removed her gag and fed her his essence.
When he stepped back from the dazed and enslaved, brown haired girl, he signaled the male dancers to release all four of the enthralled, pretty white girls from their stakes and to loosen their legs. Painfully stupefied at their ordeal, the women rose slowly to their feet. He sent them a command and the beat of the drums entered their bodies. Their demon minders circled them, dancing wildly and then led them around the raging fire. Their hands still bound painfully behind them, the desirable, young women's bodies jerked spasmodically as they mindlessly followed the painted demons. Blackthorne signaled that the three redheaded college students should be released and they joined in the danse macabre around the fire.
Paula knew she was lost. She could not stop her body from responding to the drums, was compelled to circle the fire, dancing frantically, displaying her naked and bound body for all to see, proving the blond god's mastery over her.
From the left of the platform, Jonathan saw a procession of white robed Apache women enter the circle. They were chanting and doing a shuffling dance as they entered, banging small leather covered drums and shaking rattles. The heavyset, Apache woman he had met in the welcome tent was leading them. Behind them came his three lovely and dutiful, naked acolytes. On their shoulders they carried a platform strewn with colorful desert flowers. In the middle, knelt his familiar. She wore a grotesque mask of some demented demon. She was mounted on a frame, her head and neck caught in a yoke that raised them for the crowd. Her arms were bound crossed and up behind her back. Her body had been painted all white but for her dangling breasts and her hairless pudenda which had been painted red. Yolanda, the black beauty, was in front, two rails over her shoulders holding her master's precious captive high. Darla and Christine proudly brought up the rear, all naked, their bodies decorated with painted designs. They set the platform down on the ground before the dais where the old man sat watching the proceedings approvingly.
The familiar was writhing in her bonds, overcome with lust. He could feel her energies pouring out of her. The Apache women, with the help of his acolytes, had been fueling her passions while the ceremony was going on. Jonathan felt a surge of
lust in himself. He sent his three servants off to join in the dance around the fire and he stepped behind the moaning and panting, masked and painted woman. Her legs were spread and he could see between whitened thighs her reddened pussy, dilated and moist, ready for his penetration. He stepped forward and circled his hands under her torso, seizing her loose, round, bright red painted breasts in his hands. As he let his passion enter the needy female's body through them, he pierced her burning, welcoming shaft with his steely pole. The female came at once, her inner flesh throbbing around his meat, her moans of pleasure escaping from behind her hellish mask. He felt himself coming and he poured his essence into her.
Jonathan Blackthorne's mind reeled with joy. The huge fire roared in front of him. The steady, monotonous, rhythmic chanting and the heavy, insistent drums seemed to enter his lustful, powerful body. His hot cock pulsed with a driving, forceful pleasure and his mind fed on the untrammeled lust of his familiar and all of those around him. He could see the figures of the women he had claimed dancing wildly about the conflagration, their long and eerie shadows echoing their spastic and frantic movements. This is where he belonged, he thought, madly. This is what it means to have your own destiny, not to serve, no matter how happily, the suffocating, numbing belonging to the Whole. Here, he ruled. And in the end, if his tenure in this dimension was short, if he was destroyed, it would have been worth it. He would never go back!
* * * *
The festival had gone on for three days. After he had finished his role in the ceremony, the three, young Apache girls had been presented to him formally as a gift of the Apache people. The maidens stripped them selves before the crowd and knelt in front of him, their crossed wrists proffered in a gesture of submission. They were to serve him for one year, until the next year's festival, when three more would be chosen from a selection of enthusiastic volunteers. He ceremonially bound their hands with leather thongs. He did not convert them until later. They serviced him joyously in his tent of their own volition all night and into the early morning hours. When he awoke in the morning, he had them kneel before him and passed his will into them, making them cringe and cry with fear when they realized their misapprehension about what being one of his bond women meant. In public, and after their year of indenture to him was over, they would seem happy and content to have been chosen to serve Jitendra, Lord of Conquerors, unable to relate to anyone the misery they had suffered at his hands.
