“They say…that the men come in the middle of the night, and that they are huge, powerful, violent. They grab girls with their rough hands and carry one off under each arm.” Ikthea’s eyes were wide, the light of the campfire reflecting in them as she spoke.
She continued. “Then they put them on their horses. Big, strong, hefty but swift beasts, bred for battle. One girl is tied to each side of the saddle so that the men can ride.”
As Sufeya listened and watched, she could see the other girls looking up, rapt. They took in every word. Like her, they all wore the traditional dress of the people of the Coastlands. A narrow strip of leather covered their breasts, whilst another covered below. Besides this, they wore nothing else. The warm nighttime breeze coming in off the ocean meant that much more felt clammy and uncomfortable.
She wondered what they were thinking. Almost universally, they were enthralled, hanging off their friend’s every word, eager to hear more.
Ridiculous, she thought. If they knew the truth, they’d want to know no more. Her mother had been telling her the same tales, and the truth. In fact, she’d been doing so since her Passage, the ceremony where she began to wear both strips of leather, recognising the beginning of her transition into womanhood.
The stories over, the girls all began to get up, ready to make their way home. Sufeya waited a while- not looking forward to another warm, stuffy night - until the village meeting place was almost deserted.
“Getting as much time away as you can.” The voice, elderly, soft, yet with an unmistakable clarity, cut across from the darkness which surrounded the dwindling fire.
“I… I find it difficult to sleep on nights like this.” Sufeya’s reply sounded hollow and unconvincing to her own ears but, as she stepped out of the shadow, the old woman gave a benign smile.
“Then you know what to do.” Her words, clear as before, made no sense to Sufeya.
“I…” Before she could say any more, her elderly companions vanished.
Funny, she thought. I could have sworn…
Still confused, she finally rose from her place on the long benches which were kept arranged around the village fire. She was about to walk when, suddenly, she realised…
The bench. The bench she’d been sitting on was…damp.
No. Not just damp.
Wet. Absolutely sopping wet.
And then she realised it wasn’t just the bench, but it was on her too. In fact…
Oh fuck. She thought. What the hell?
Suddenly embarrassed, ashamed, fearful that someone might see, she set off quickly.
*
Inside her family hut was much as before. In the darkness of night, it felt peaceful, a far cry from the regular noise and clamour of half a dozen voices.
She closed the door and made her way through the outer rooms and into the central chamber. A circular room at the very heart of the building, it was the literal and symbolic heart of the home. The place where not only did the family sleep, but also practiced their most sacred rites.
She looked around. On one side, her sisters lay sound asleep. On the other, her mother lay, sprawled out, sleeping naked in the warm evening air. Besides her was a space, vacant as her father was away, out with the other men who fished by night.
She made her way directly ahead, towards the intricate stonework, at the centre of which a small fire still smouldered. This was the family altar. At the very centre of their lives and existence, it was the portal to other worlds, the sacred link to their ancestors.
Sufeya stood there for a moment, letting her mind drift towards the sensations, the feelings she realised she’d been trying to ignore.
The burning need between her taut young thighs.
“Oh Great spirit and the spirits of my ancestors,” she whispered, eyes locked on the fire. “Please accept this offering.” And with this, she reached out and removed an object from the altar. Then, stepping back, she lifted the lower band of leather, revealing her glistening wetness, and began to rub the object - a phallus of smooth, dark wood - against herself.
Waves of pleasure instantly began to flow through her. Ikthea’s words began to run through her mind: huge, powerful, violent. Huge.
She began to envisage one of these men, broad and muscular, scooping her up. Whisking her aware, overpowering her. But instead of binding her to the side of a saddle, he placed her up on top of one, so high that he was face to face with her glistening cunt.
And then he began to lick, feasting on her juices, his tongue invading all of her, disregarding any sense of modesty, showing no concern for whether she cared for this or not…
By now, the dildo was slick and glistening, and she began to slide in and out of her nubile cunt. Small, animalistic noises began to emanate from her as the scene progressed.
Now he had her bent over, stood on the floor again, holding the reins of the great beast for support whilst the kidnapper began to push his unfeasibly large cock into her.
As she thought of this, she leant over and began to fuck herself, sliding in and out, faster and faster.
In her mind, he was in her now. Fucking her with full force, taking, not caring if she cried or shouted out.
The orgasm hit her hard, making her clench tight, so tight on the dildo that it was forced out and fell onto the ground.
“Mnggg.” Noises came out of Sufeya’s mouth, incomprehensible until finally, she managed the words: “Accept this as my offering, Great spirit…” And with this staggered back, breathless, sated.
As the climax subsided, she picked up the wooden phallus and, placing it back on the altar, made her way towards her sleeping area. As she did, she saw that her mother had awoken. She gave a smile and spoke.
“That looked good. You needed it, didn’t you?" As she did, her hand idly ran along her own body.
Sufeya smiled. “I did, mother. I did.” And with these words, she made her way to her bed, suddenly overcome with tiredness and ready for the sweet release of sleep.
