The Ritual

Moonlight bathed the forest clearing in a soft white light. Lothar sat on his wooden throne, intricately made with noble wood. He sat with his back straight, his arms on the side. His eyes stared into the darkness ahead. Waiting.

The clearing was a meticulously kept circle of soft grass. Logs, split in two, adorned the edges as benches. Six men, sitting behind the throne, played a melody on deerskin drums, the light from two braziers rippling over their naked torsos. Two women, dressed only in white drapes, tended to Lothar. One busied herself drawing tribal designs on his face and torso, the other prepared a necklace. It had a large fang in the middle, the sign of a warrior, a natural leader.

The Nightwolf Clan was renowned for being fierce in battle and loyal in friendship. Now aged 28, Lothar, son of Hendrik, had reached the age of wisdom and, as such, had inherited the clan from his father two weeks prior. The feasting lasted four days. He would go to the Capitol in two weeks on the morning of the new moon, but, for now, there were other details to attend to.

Lothar sat motionless, looking to the other side of the clearing. His bare chest showed signs of years of training and battle; a large scar showed that at least one person had managed to get close, but not close enough. He showed no emotion, but he radiated authority without talking or moving. Everyone around him was careful to obey the ritual.

The preparation was complete. Lothar’s skin glistened in the moonlight from oils and herbal mixtures. He sat with only a cloth across his legs, hiding his manhood.

The elder set herself at Lothar’s side. With her white hair swaying gently in the breeze, she looked at everyone assembled to witness. She gestured harshly to a man, who scurried to the side to take place elsewhere. She lifted her hand. The drums stopped, and the helpers scurried to the edges, sitting on the benches, waiting. Silence fell on the clearing, broken only by the leaves rustling in the night wind or the braziers crackling as they consumed the fresh firewood.

The spectators, the chosen few, were scrutinised; everything had to be perfect. A scowl told one participant that she was too close, and the helper backed off to a safe distance. When she was satisfied that everything was in place, the elder lowered her hand. The drummers played a slow beat, anticipating what was to come. All eyes looked to the other side of the clearing.

From the darkness stepped Aaryn.

She took two steps forward into the moonlight, slowly, seductively, before stopping. She wore a thin white cloak, wrapped around her body. Her long brown hair moved gently in the light breeze. Her chest heaved in anticipation. All eyes were on her, a collective piercing gaze. Slowly, one by one, they looked away, and to the elder.

Aaryn waited.

She had been training for this. To be Lothar’s Mistress. The one to listen to him. The one to comfort him spiritually and physically. The one to sleep with him. The one to be with him. Now, she waited. Her body had undergone rigorous training to be fit, and her mind was as sharp as her shield-bearing. Two handmaidens had helped her prepare; her hair was silky, her face perfection with new markings, and she had the scent of wildflowers on her.

Lothar turned slightly to look at the elder and nodded. The elder returned the nod and gestured to Aaryn. She had passed the first test.

Aaryn took two steps forward, placing herself in the middle of the clearing. All eyes were returned on her, but she only had eyes for Lothar. She slowly opened her cape, sliding it sensually past her shoulders and letting the fabric fall to the ground, slowly, revealing her nakedness piece by piece. The moonlight reflected off her pale skin, creating shadows under her breasts and highlighting her muscles. The fire cast slivers of light on the rest of her body, illuminating her intimacy for a moment before returning to darkness, allowing Lothar to use his imagination. She hoped it would be enough.

All eyes were on her, but she didn’t care. The only eyes that mattered were his.

She waited.

Lothar looked. Aaryn felt her skin burn as he examined every part of her body, yet he did not move. After what felt like an eternity for all present, Lothar looked at the village elder and nodded, who gestured to Aaryn before retreating to a bench. Aaryn had passed the second test, but now the real test began.

Aaryn stepped forward, sauntering towards Lothar. She was careful to make her hips roll, not too much, not too little. She looked down at the cloth on his legs. Was that the hint of an erection?

Aaryn reached Lothar, and dropped to her knees, the soft grass below cushioning her fall. She knew the rules; no hands. Whatever she did, she had to do herself. Still looking up at Lothar, she bit into the fabric, pulling it down, exposing him. His cock was before her, limp but with a hint of desire. Now it was her turn to satisfy him.

She positioned herself between his legs, still looking up into his dark brown eyes. She licked, using the entire width of her tongue. From deep between his legs, over his balls and onto his shaft, she licked, slowly, again and again. She was rewarded by a twitch of his cock, a sign of pleasure. As his cock grew harder, Aaryn accelerated; faster, harder, until she had what she wanted: his excitement.

The crowd watched intently, one woman slipping her hand under her robe to caress a nipple. Another began caressing the leg of the man next to her, her nails digging into his skin.

Aaryn looked down at his ever-hardening cock, and smiled when she was greeted by a small drop of pre-cum forming on the head of his manhood. With a swift lick, it became her prize: her chance to taste him. When she was satisfied, she opened her mouth and, slowly, her lips sliding down his shaft, took him into her warm mouth. She heard a slight gasp from the audience. Lothar remained emotionless, but she felt the twitching and knew when her lips were at the perfect point. She tightened her grip, moving slowly up and down, and getting faster with every movement.

She stopped, looking up into his dark eyes as she licked the length of his shaft one last time, before standing up. She straddled his legs, positioning herself, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She positioned herself between her legs, her pussy lips rubbing against his manhood. She moved her hips, rubbing herself against him, teasing slightly, but biting her lip as she felt her pleasure. With each movement, she rose slightly, her pussy hugging his cock and going higher and higher, edging his tip. One final lift of her hips, and the tip of his cock was placed perfectly, her lips wrapping around his shaft, greeting him, needing him as she impaled herself on his lust.

She briefly saw spectators as she continued her movements. Some were leaning forward, eager to see all the details they could. Others were reclined, their hands getting to work on their own bodies. One woman with long blonde hair had her legs apart, and a hand caressing her thigh. What excited them? Was it the sight of her? Was it Lothar’s reaction? Or was it the intimate moment between two people? It fuelled her desire.

Lothar remained motionless, but she could see it in her eyes. With her forehead on his, rising and falling on him, she saw his desire. A primal need was surfacing. She could feel his chest heave as she moved, synchronising her movements to his. There was no doubt that she would be the one to make him cum.

She would be the one to climax first. Uncontrollably, feeling his cock deep inside her and with all eyes on her, she first began to whimper, before moaning. A fire erupted from deep inside her, and her feral side took over, riding him hard, taking him as much as her small frame would allow. She lifted her hair in her hands, grasping at strands of hair and pulling. Somehow, it made her feel even more submissive, that feeling of being held. She remembered her place: she was to make him cum. Still, there was nothing that forbade enjoying herself too. She looked into his eyes and saw a slight nod of encouragement.

She lifted herself off him, her pussy complaining, begging to feel him inside again. She turned around, her back to him, and straddled him again, clumsily feeling his cock on her pussy lips, trying to position herself to take him once again. He was rock hard, desiring her more than ever, helping her position herself. Then, she found the proper position, and his cock shot into her, making her moan loudly as she felt him enter forcefully. She lifted her long hair with her hands and, with her calves still complaining, began to move up and down again, letting herself go. She had felt her pleasure; now it was his turn.

Lothar finally moved, lifting his arms off the armrests, placing his strong hands under her ass, and pushing her off of him. There was an audible gasp from the audience and the drummers stopped their rhythm.

Aaryn struggled to regain her balance, then turned around to face him, her face pale. Had Lothar just rejected her? Her world started crumbling around her, but just as she felt a tear well up, Lothar broke protocol. The elder began to get up, but Lothar gestured with the palm of his hand, and she sat down again, now just a spectator of what was to come.

Lothar stood up. It was slow and calculated, showing both physical and mental strength. The silence became deafening. He took a step forward, now towering over Aaryn, who was almost trembling. His dark eyes looked deep into hers. It wasn’t a look of anger, nor a look of curiosity. Aaryn read his face; it was a look of lust. Pure and primal. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down. Aaryn obeyed, dropping slowly to her knees, enjoying the view of his pectoral muscles, his waist, before coming face to face with his throbbing cock. She knew what she had to do.

Once again, she took his cock into her mouth, tasting him, feeling his skin inside her. Her tongue twisted, greeting his manhood, sliding down his shaft as she pushed forward, taking him as deep as she could manage. When she reached her limits, Lothar cradled her head into his hands and went further. With movements of his hips, he began to use her mouth for his pleasure, keeping her head in place and moving as fast and as deep as he wanted. Again and again, further and further, Lothar used Aaryn’s mouth, her lips wrapped tightly against his shaft. He felt the pleasure mount, but he wasn’t done, not yet. He pulled out and released his grip, leaving Aaryn gasping for breath.

She barely had time to recover when Lothar picked her up as if she were little more than a child’s doll. His strong hands turned her around in the air, placing her on all fours, her back to him. Again, Aaryn knew what she must do. She pushed her ass high in the air, curving her back, placing her chest on the soft grass, offering herself to him. Lothar took his time enjoying the view; her ass cheeks, her damp pussy, soaked from a mixture of their desires for each other. She swayed her hips gently, an invitation, pleading with him.

Take me.

Lothar dropped to his knees, his fingers gripping her waist, leaving white marks as he got into the perfect position. Aaryn turned her head to see him. She had seen desire before in his eyes, but this was different. There was something primal—a beast, under the full moon, ready to howl.

Lothar held on firmly and took his prize. He pushed hard, ramming his cock into her, pushing with all of his might. Aaryn braced herself with arms fully outstretched, feeling him deeper inside her than she had achieved until now. She heard the slap of his flesh against hers, she felt his balls slap her clitoris with each push, and she felt herself give in. With the drummers beginning their music again, and moonlight flooding this sexual arena, she gave in to his raw desire. One hand held on to her waist, and the other wrapped her silky hair around his wrist, pulling, leaving her no chance to escape his grip. She was his, to use as he saw fit.

Take me.

Lothar could hold back no more. With each shove, he let a small grunt escape, music to her ears. She might have difficulty walking tomorrow, but that was a problem for later. Right now, she needed something more. She needed to be tamed, a wild animal searching for a mate who would take her as he saw fit. His grunts became more intense, his grip tightened. With one enormous roar that awoke the sleeping forest, Lothar came. He emptied his seed deep into Aaryn, who looked up at the full moon like a wild animal. In the middle of the circle, surrounded by watchers, they were alone in this shared moment of intimacy.

Lothar let go of his grip, his fingers dancing over her damp skin. A slight breeze fell over them, a welcome feeling to release some of their heat. Lothar leaned forward to pick up Aaryn by the waist, before taking two steps back, and sitting back down on his wooden throne, his prize wrapped closely in his arms. She turned her head to look at him and was rewarded with a kiss. There she sat, in his lap, his seed still escaping from her, and held by strong arms.

The select crowd bore witness to the scene. She was the one.