Belly of the Beast

by Belly Of The Beast (Lit)

  Mariel lay panting for breath as he pulled his cock from her and stepped away. Something cold was poured over her heated, throbbing genitals, sucking the breath from her lungs. She was still trying to catch her breath as she was lifted until she was sitting nearly upright.

  A man stepped from the moving circle, grasped both her breasts in his hands and began devouring them feverishly, biting, suckling, licking, and drawing her back from satiation to heated need once more. When he released her breasts at last, he knelt, feeding upon her clit as her nether lips were drawn back to offer it to him. Mariel was nearly mindless before he ceased and stood, shoving his cock into her and fucking her as feverishly as he had sucked and bit her. She climaxed twice before he pumped his seed into her and stepped away.

  She was barely conscious by the time the fourth had pounded into her until he’d emptied his seed.

  Removing her bindings, they lifted her and carried her from the offering chamber and up the stairs to the bathing chamber. The cool water revived her. The bathing was far from pleasant, however. Her body felt so sensitive she could hardly bear to be touched.

  To her dismay, she was borne to the offering chamber once more where the drumming and pounding continued unceasingly. As before, she was bound and offered to Demon Bileezal. Four more times he took her, driving her into release over and over before he took his own.

  She knew even as they took her to the bathing chamber that her ordeal was not yet over, but when they took her down the third time, she felt like weeping. By the time they bore her down the stairs the fourth and final time she was almost beyond knowing or caring—almost. They still managed to wring pleasure from her, and hoarse cries, over and over.

  Her last thought before she was allowed to sink into the darkness was that she hoped she’d pleased the Demon Bileezal. He’d nearly fucked her to death and she hated to think she’d endured two days of offering her body in vain.

  She was allowed to rest for two days before she was escorted to the bathing chamber, bathed, dressed in a golden robe and led away by Behsart. He said nothing. He rarely spoke, but despite his typical reticence, she immediately noticed the repressed rage in him as he settled her before him on the horse. Mounting behind her, he pulled her tightly against him, turned the horse and spurred it into a trot as they rode from the village.

  They had not ridden far into the forest when he guided the horse off the road and into a clearing. Dismounting, he tired the horse and pulled her from the saddle. Leading her to the shade of a tree, he pushed her down and followed her, shoving her gown up and falling upon her as if he were starving and she a loaf of bread. The savagery of his possession heated her blood until she was moaning beneath him and when he parted her thighs and thrust into her, excitement surged through her. Within moments, her body began to convulse, closing around his thrusting cock and milking him so that his crisis jolted through him, as well.

  Briefly, he rested and then he took her once more, as desperately as he had the first time, ravishing her hungrily, thrusting into her with frantic need until he brought her to culmination again and followed her, shuddering with his own release.

  When he’d ceased to shudder, he rolled off of her, lying on his back in the grass and staring up at the tree above them. Mariel dozed. When she woke, she discovered that he was lying beside her, staring down at her, his expression almost puzzled. She gazed back at him, equally curious, wondering if she was seeing the demon, Behsart, or the man, Cavan.

  He’d made love to her, she realized with a touch of surprise. Despite the desperation of his possession, he had held her, stroked her body almost worshipfully, pleasured her before he sought his own release.

  Was it at all possible that the demon was capable of softer feelings?

  She could not believe that he was. Cavan had begun to gain control of the demon as Behsart weakened.

  But who was Cavan?

  Behsart had said that he had once been known as Cavan, Lord of Reugal. The name meant nothing to her, but she had no way of knowing if it was because Behsart had lied to her and made the name up, or if it was purely ignorance on her part. Until the Trull had come for her, she had never traveled beyond her own village. For as far back as she could remember, they had been poor, for her father could never hold on to money long and the poorer they got, the more heavily he drank until that began to eat into the little that was left from his gambling.

  As tempted as she was to try to reach the man she’d begun to feel emerging from the grasp of the demon, in the end, she held her silence, fearful that she would arouse the wrath of Behsart if she tried to summon Cavan and undo whatever good she’d gained. She thought that she would be far better off to pander to Behsart’s lust for her and feed him upon it until he became so sated and weakened Cavan could supplant him and aid her in escaping her fate.

  She had been surprised but tremendously relieved that she’d been allowed time to rest after the last ritual, but she knew that the worst trials were ahead of her. The ritual at the Temple of Bileezal had been by far worse than anything that had come before. It made her ill with fear only imagining what she might have to face at the temples she must face next.

  The only thing that sustained her was the belief that, no matter what, they would see to it that she reached the Castle Valdamer. It was not much to find comfort in, but it was all she had.

  Perhaps, since the Demon Bileezal had taught her that pleasure could be had, even from pain, she would be able to endure.

  Abruptly, Behsart rose and moved to the horse, retrieving the food pack. When he returned, he handed her a portion and took some for himself. They ate in silence. Mariel glanced at Behsart several times from beneath her lashes and saw that his gaze had settled unblinkingly on her.

  She was almost disappointed when he made no attempt to couple with her again. Instead, when they’d finished, they took their ease and returned to the horse.

  When Behsart had settled behind her, Mariel turned and looked up at him. "Pleasure me as you did before," she whispered huskily.

  His face went taut, his eyes blazing instantly with passion. His hands shook as he turned her to face him, settling her thighs over his as she looped her arms over his head. His cock was already hard and throbbing as he shifted his loincloth and released it. Tightening her arms around his neck, she lifted up so that he could push his cock head inside of her and, once he had, settled on his lap, feeling the dampness that remained from their coupling easing his passage. He caught her hips, thrusting upward as he bore down on her until her clit rubbed his belly.

  His eyes glazed as he tightened his arm around her hips and set the horse into motion. Mariel clung tightly to him, welcoming the heat that began to build inside of her at once. The body, the scent, the touch belonged to the man—not the demon Behsart and she knew the man was aware of her, desired her, drew pleasure from her body even as he wrung pleasure from her.

  She relished the closeness, the sense of belonging, as much as she enjoyed the desire and clung to him as they brought each other to culmination over and over, until they were drunk with each other.

  They stopped to refresh themselves, but each time they mounted the horse to go on their way, she mounted his cock and rode him. At dusk, they made camp. When they had eaten and bathed in the stream, they rolled together in Behsart’s bedding, curling around each other and making love slowly. He pulled her across his chest when they had sated one another, stroking her back, holding her close. As Mariel drifted away toward slumber, he spoke.

  "I grow stronger with each day that passes. Stay strong for me, my lovely Mariel. Together, we will banish the demons."

  Behsart was sullen and withdrawn when they woke. Mariel was in no doubt that the demon was once more dominant, banishing Cavan once again, for she saw it with every glance. She wasn’t certain whether he was angry with her because Cavan had escaped his control the night before, or if it was because he was looking forward to turning her over to the priests of the next temple with resentment. Sh
e thought it possible that it was a little of both and made no attempt to draw him into conversation or to tempt him to couple with her.

  The following day, they reached a range of gentle, rolling mountains. They camped that night in the foothills and began the climb the following morning. By midday they had topped the crest and started down once more. Toward evening, she saw the towering Temple of the Demon Raezitath, the ringed demon.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry when Behsart stopped to camp once more. She was certainly in no hurry to reach the temple, but the fear of waiting in dread was almost as bad as reaching their destination and knowing that she only had to endure the ritual and she would have it behind her.

  At dawn, they rose and mounted the horse and set it toward the Temple of Demon Raezitath. The priests began pounding at the gongs even as they cantered the horse up the main road. By the time Behsart had tethered the horse and helped her down, worshippers had already begun to gather. When they reached the piazza, the High Priest took hold of the chain and Behsart departed once more.

  Mariel watched fearfully as he strode down the stairs, mounted the horse and rode off, wondering why it seemed he would not even be allowed to enter the temple. Or had that been his decision? Did it mean she would be here many days, as she had at the Temple of Bileezal, she wondered fearfully? Or did it mean nothing at all beyond something so simple as a need to run some mundane errand, such as having the horse shod?

  When they had finished displaying her, she was escorted inside. Despite the robed priests that surrounded her and the dimness inside the temple after the bright morning sunlight, she saw almost at once that the Temple of Raezitath was not laid out as the other temples had been. The corridor, instead of running straight and level through the temple, slanted downward, dipping more sharply as they reached the center of the temple and splitting off to the right and left.

  The procession turned left as they reached the end of the corridor. Mariel saw as they reached the floor below that the bathing, or purifying chamber, was a part of the offering room. She tried not to think what significance that might have as they came to a stop and the manacles around her wrists were removed.

  A priest seized her by each arm and walked her toward a mosaic on the floor near the pool, forcing her to lie down on her back. Kneeling on either side of her, they grasped her arms and positioned them straight out from her body, clamping a manacle that was set into the floor around each wrist. Uneasily, she watched as they moved back toward her, clamping a second manacle around each upper arm.

  A leather strap was fed through a ring in the floor, across her body just below her breasts and into a second ring on the other side, then tightened to that she could barely breathe and could not move at all.

  They moved down her body then. Grasping her ankles, they parted her legs so wide she’d begun to feel pain in her hip joints and groin and finally fastened her ankles with manacles connected by rings to the tiled floor. Moving up her legs, they secured two more bands around her upper legs, tightening them against the floor, as well. The two who had secured her stepped back.

  Chapter Six

  Minutes measured in pounding heartbeats passed. Finally, two other priests approached her. One knelt between her legs and the other straddled her, settling his buttocks on her lower stomach with his back to her. Mariel swallowed, panting in little gasps, unable to take a decent breath of air into her lungs as she waited fearfully to see what they would do.

  In a moment, she felt fingers parting the seam of her nether lips, felt the flesh peeled back. Her clit was captured between two fingers and stretched. A moment later, fire shot through her. She screamed, jerking against her bindings, waiting in terror for the pain to be repeated. It wasn’t. They continued for several moments to tug and pull at her clit, but the fiery pain began to dissipate to a dull throbbing.

  Finally, the two stood. Moving to either side of her, one lay something cold and metallic on her stomach. The priest on her right grasped her left nipple and stretched it. The second thrust a thin, sharp needle through the flesh, running it all the way through and out the other side. Mariel screamed the moment the needle pierced her flesh, surging against her bindings. Ignoring her, the one with the needle set it aside, picked up a tiny ring and inserted it in the hole he’d made, fastening it. She stiffened as they moved to her right breast. Again, her nipple was pinched and the skin stretched. The one with the needle pierced it and a second ring was attached and fastened.

  She watched in fear as they collected their tools and rose, wondering if they meant to pierce her anywhere else. To her relief, they turned and left.

  The two who had bound her returned and began to release the manacles. When they had finished, they pulled her up and walked her to the pool. The pain of the piercings had subsided to a dull, pounding throb, but the bathing was an ordeal. The slightest touch sent new waves of pain through her sensitive areas and the scraping that followed was almost worse.

  The drums began to pound even as she was led from the pool the second time. The priests began chanting. Mariel stared fearfully at the opposite end of the chamber as she was dried. There were perhaps a dozen robed priests besides those who attended her in the purification. As she watched, however, six others filed into the room. These wore the hood of the beast. They were naked beyond that except for some sort of harness-like contraption that cupped their genitals. Their cocks were erect, standing obscenely against their bellies and painted bright red. Mariel wasn’t certain if it was fear that made it appear that their cocks were even bigger than those of the Temple of Bileezal, or the paint, or if they actually were bigger. The men themselves were massively muscled.

  When her attendants had finished drying her, she was led to the offering area and toward three posts that stood up from the floor. She was pushed back against the center post. A strip of leather perhaps four inches wide was laid on the floor at her feet. At each end of the strip was a large ring. Chains were attached to the rings.

  Her feet were threaded through the larger rings and they were drawn up to her thighs. She was told to sit then. When she’d settled, the two priests who’d escorted her pulled on the chains attached to the rings. Slowly, the chains grew taut and began to lift her thighs upward. The strap beneath her buttocks tightened. Her hands were placed on the chains and then she was slowly raised up from the floor until she was hanging several feet above it.

  The lifting stopped. Taking another pair of chains from the floor, the two priests attached them to the rings around her thighs and moved to the posts on either side of her. Threading the chain through rings set in the posts, they began drawing them tighter and tighter until Mariel’s thighs had been drawn so wide she felt the tendons pulling painfully. When they’d secured the chains and released them, it released some of the tension and her tendons, to her relief, ceased to burn.

  Returning to her once more, one of the priests pulled her hand from the chain and pulled her arm behind her back, then reached for her other arm, twisting that around behind her as well and binding them behind the pole. The second took a pair of manacles from the floor, fastening one around each ankle. When he’d finished, he took a tiny chain and threaded it through a loop on the manacle of her right foot.

  She stared at him in confusion, wondering what possible purpose so tiny a chain, which looked as if it could be snapped easily, could have. Reaching above her head, he threaded the tiny chain through a metal eye protruding from the side of the post. Pulling it taut, he threaded it through the ring piercing her right nipple, down through the ring in her clit, up again through the ring in her left nipple and to a second metal eye on the opposite side of the post before attaching it to the manacle on her left ankle.

  Sensation that was part pain and part pleasure shot through her as he tugged on the chain, adjusting it and finally securing it. Mariel swallowed with an effort when he moved away. The slightest movement of her feet sent waves of sensation through her nipples and her clit. The greater the m
ovement, the closer to pain it became.

  She held still, hardly daring to breathe as they moved away from her at last, discovering that it was not only a matter of moving her feet that tugged against the delicate chain. Each rise and fall of her chest with breath, the slightest movement of her body, tugged at the rings and stimulated sensation. Heat burgeoned inside her body in response and she had not even been touched.

  She looked at the two priests in dismay as they returned. One stepped between her legs. The other stood to one side, holding some strange looking devises. Taking one, the priest grasped the flesh of her nether lips. Clamping the metal end into her flesh, he wrapped the strap around her thigh, drew the flesh back, then clamped the other end of the strap a little lower on her fleshy lip. The second was attached as the first had been, holding the lips of her sex wide. When he’d finished, he ran his finger along her cleft, parting the thin inner lips. After studying her sex a moment, he and the other priest moved to the two poles on either side of her and tightened the chains spreading her thighs.

  The tightening spread the lips of her sex wider and tugged on the chain running through her nipples and clit. Mariel gasped, panting as needles of pain went through her seemingly everywhere at once. The gasp sent a second wave through her and she squeezed her eyes closed, holding her breath, trying to slow her pounding heart. She opened her eyes as she heard the chanting grow louder and saw that the chanting priests were approaching her. The six who were bare lined up in front of her. The High Priest moved along the row, stopping at each and tipping oil onto the head of their cocks. When he’d reached the last, he turned, lifted his arms and offered her to the Demon Raezitath.

  At once, three of the six moved toward. Instead of circling her, however, they began to stroke her body, to suck and nip at her with their teeth and lick her. Each time she jerked reflexively, sensation shot through her nipples and clit at the same time. The harder she jerked, the greater the pain and the less pleasure. By the time she realized she was inflicting most of the pain on herself, her whole body felt as if it was throbbing. She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain perfectly still.