Belly of the Beast Read online

  They bathed her as the priestesses had. When she was led from the pool, she was forced down on a bench. Because she had struggled, one priest knelt at the head of the bench and held the chain to her manacles tightly. Two others grasped her ankles and held them while another priest spread oils over her body and scraped her flesh, though she thought it impossible that she could have so much as a follicle of hair left.

  It was worse, she supposed, because it was men this time, realizing wryly even as the thought occurred to her that she had thought it worse before because it was women. Perhaps, though, it was only because her shock had abandoned her allowing her absolute clarity of perception. Inwardly, she cringed when her legs were spread wide and her genitals scraped as the rest of her body had been.

  It would’ve been a relief when they finally finished and led her into the pool again, except that she knew she was to be led to the altar. Despite her fear of Behsart, who, as ever, guarded the door and watched, she fought them, trying to break free in a mindless panic that took no consideration of the fact that she had no where to run to and no real chance of escaping all of them even if she managed to break free for a few moments. They caught her, lifting her up into the air and carrying her down the stairs on their shoulders.

  She did not see an altar such as the one in Sheenigan’s Temple. She looked around in confusion when they’d set her on her feet. The chain attached to her manacles was seized and her arms lifted above her head. Seeing their intent, she began to struggle again, tugging at the chain. She was caught and held while the chain was attached to the hook hanging from the ceiling. When the two men released her, they caught her legs. She kicked out at them, but the struggle was all too brief. Within moments, they had captured her legs and fitted a manacle around each ankle. Chains pulled her legs apart until she was forced to stand on her tiptoes or hang from her arms.

  She couldn’t see the High Priest as he entered the room, but she heard him as he called the priests forward to pay homage to the bride of the Demon Trihorn with the use of their bodies to his service. The priests, wearing hooded masks with that bore the face of Trihorn, dropped the robes they were wearing to the floor and moved toward her, chanting. Each wore an obscene red penis strapped to their bellies above their own cocks.

  Mariel stared at them, horrified, as they began to shuffle around her, striking her with some sort of whip-like instruments, except that the fibers hanging limply from the tips didn’t hurt—not precisely. As they slapped them against her breasts, her belly, thighs and buttocks, her skin began to tingle, to grow more sensitive the longer the ‘thrashing’ went on. They’d moved around her three times when one of the priests stepped from the line and knelt before her. Grasping the lips of her sex, he parted them and began to suck at her tender flesh.

  A jolt went through her. She jerked, lost her precarious poise, and the weight of her body tugged painfully at her arms. With an effort, she caught her balance and rose up on her tiptoes once more. She’d barely regained her stance when another man detached himself from the group and caught one of her nipples between his teeth, tugging at it almost painfully, forcing fiery sensation through receptive tip and into her body.

  She closed her eyes, fighting her body’s response, but knowing even as she tried that she could not really fight it. Pleasure surged through her despite her best efforts.

  She groaned in despair as another man detached himself from the group and began to tug at her other nipple. Behind her, yet another grasped her buttocks and parted them, licking the cheeks and the cleft between them.

  The man sucking at her clit moved away. Before she could draw a breath of relief, another took his place. As the priestesses had, the priests moved over her body as if they meant to devour her, gnawing almost painfully at her flesh at times, licking, sucking any part of her body that was sensitive to stimulation and she began to think every part of her body was sensitive, some more than others. They came and left again, moving steadily around her, taking turns driving her almost to the breaking point. Her nipples quickly began to throb incessantly. Her belly clenched and unclenched, saturated with warm moisture. Her clit pulsed with need when no one touched it and pounded harder when they did.

  By the time the third had knelt between her legs, pushed the fleshy petals apart and began to suck her clit, she was so drunk with the haze of lust filling her that if they had not surrounded her, holding her in place she would have fallen and hung from her arms until they separated from their sockets. The third rammed a large finger into passage, thrusting it inside her over and over as he caught her clit in his mouth and sucked it. He’d barely begun to sucking the achingly sensitive bud of flesh when her body began to convulse in waves of keen rapture.

  Unable to stop herself, she groaned as it seized her in an uncompromising grip.

  Either he was unaware of the fact that she’d reached culmination, or it was immaterial to him whether she did or not and the demon that controlled him was only interested in his own pleasure. He continued to lick and suck her clit, driving his finger into her over and over until she was screaming with the jolts of pleasure that continued to wrack her body as long as he stimulated it. She collapsed weakly when he moved away, struggling to catch her breath. Her body was still pounding with the hard echoes of her release when another stepped from the circle.

  Her nipples ached from the almost constant fondling. The muscles along her passage continued to spasm many minutes after her climax began to fade. Blood beat in clit to the pounding rhythm of her heart, making it almost painfully sensitive.

  It almost seemed more devastating to her senses than having release denied her for so long and she tried to move away from the man who opened his mouth over her breast and began pulling at the nipple.

  A man knelt between her thighs, pushed the flesh apart, and fastened his mouth over her clit, thrusting a finger inside of her. One knelt behind her, parted her buttocks and pushed his finger into her rectum.

  That intrusion was such a surprise that it shifted her focus abruptly. She flinched, struggled to evade the invasive touch, pressing more tightly against the man in front of her who was tugging at her clit with mouth. Despite the discomfort, pleasure began to radiate through her body from the fingers thrusting into both orifices. Within moments, her body surged swiftly toward release. She was still hovering on the edge when both withdrew. She slumped, gasping, feeling almost as stunned as if she’d stepped inadvertently onto nothing but air when she’d expected something solid.

  She was still struggling to come to terms with the abrupt withdrawal when another took his place. Almost the moment his mouth closed over her clit, her body began to tremble with impending release. She cried out as he rammed his finger inside of her passage, coming. Blind and deaf to her jerking, convulsing body, her desperate, gasping cries as she passed beyond her endurance, the ritual proceeded without pause. The man continued to thrust in finger in and out of her, tugging and sucking on her clit as if he’d found a particularly succulent berry and meant to suck it dry. His stimulation, and that of the others who fondled and sucked her breasts and belly, forced her body to continue to spasm with release until she was screaming.

  She fainted, she thought, for several moments, completely loosing awareness of her surroundings. The ritual continued unabated. Mariel surfaced to consciousness once more as the pleasure coursing through her body began to wind the tension inside of her toward release again.

  Over and again, they brought her to culmination that was so intense, devastating to her senses that she would reach a point where she couldn’t bear it any longer and swoon. She had climaxed until there wasn’t an ounce of strength left in her body by the time they finally ceased to torment her. Only half conscious, she was barely aware of being released until she collapsed into someone’s arms. Lifting her head with an effort, she saw that it was Behsart who held her and relief went through her.

  She’d begun to think she would die from the pleasure, but it was over. They would allow her to re
st.

  To her stunned surprise, she was set on her feet and pushed down on a cold stone slab that bit into her belly and ribs. Weakly, she tried to rise as she felt her ankles caught in two hard hands.

  Her legs were pulled apart and her ankles manacled once more. When she felt a tug on her wrist manacles, she looked up and saw that Behsart was in front of her, removing them.

  As her arms dropped limply on either side of the bench, they were caught and her arms manacled once more, this time to either side of her.

  She felt a hand skate of her buttocks. Despite her exhaustion, she twisted, trying to look behind her. She could only move far enough to get a glimpse of the man, however. Her heart began to pound as she felt the man behind her pushing her buttocks wide, felt, a finger she thought at first, probing her rectum and one probing her vagina. Both were a good deal larger than a finger she discovered. The moment he had aligned both penises, he thrust inside of her.

  Mariel gasped at the double penetration, feeling more surprise than either pain or pleasure at first. Behsart seized her hair, turning her head so that she faced him and shoved his cock into her gasping mouth. Belatedly, she tried to struggle but found with little surprise that she had been bound so tightly she could not move in any direction, could not escape the penetration of the three horned demon as he rammed into her body.

  If she’d had the energy, or even the ability to think, she might have tried to bite the cock Behsart had shoved into her mouth, but she had neither.

  As both men began to pump into her body hard and fast, however, she remembered what Behsart had said about pleasing the demon and it flickered in her mind that Behsart was only the demon that inhabited the body of Cavan. If she pleasured the man’s body, would he know it? Would it reach his humanity?

  Instead of remaining docile and allowing him to move his cock in and out of her mouth, she cupped her tongue and cheeks around his engorged member, sucking him. She felt a shudder go through him. It sent an answering wave of pleasure through her, joining with the rising tide of pleasure she could not stem from the man pounding frenziedly into her vagina and rectum.

  Within moments, her body exploded with ecstasy. Almost mindless with the pleasure, she sucked Cavan’s cock ravenously as the convulsions swept through her. Abruptly, he caught the sides of her face in his hands, jerking as he reached his crisis. She sucked harder, felt his hot seed hit the back of her throat and kept sucking until she’d milked him dry.

  When she released him at last, he was trembling with the effort to remain standing.

  Gasping for breath, he finally knelt and released her hands. To her relief, her ankles were released, as well, and Behsart hauled her limp form from the stone and cradled her against him as he left the chamber and ascended the stairs.

  She struggled to retain her consciousness, but she was only vaguely aware of being lain on the bed and the heat of Behsart’s body as he settled beside her and threw an arm and leg over her.

  When the sound of movement woke her, Mariel realized that it was morning. Blearily, she lifted her head and stared at the priests who’d filed into the room. She didn’t protest or struggle when they caught her up and walked her down to the pool. The bath was soothing, almost enjoyable after her ordeal of the night before. It would’ve been more soothing if her body had not hummed to life almost the moment they began stroking her.

  She began to have her first inkling that her ordeal wasn’t over when she was dried, but led from the room naked. She didn’t fully grasp the implications, however, until the procession turned toward the stairs once more. By then, it was too late to offer any resistance.

  She was almost relieved when they didn’t chain her as they first had the day before. Instead, she was placed on her back on the altar. Her wrists were manacled to her sides. A strap was placed over her ribs just below her breasts and tightened. Another was strapped across her hips. They caught her ankles then, secured a manacle to each and her legs until they were almost perpendicular to her body before they spread them wide. The chanting and dancing began almost at once.

  The stone altar they’d placed her upon was too short to support her entire body. Her hips dangled over the edge of one end, her head and neck the other. She strained to hold her head up for a time and finally allowed it to fall backwards, resting, her eyes closed.

  Except for the difference in her positioning, the ritual began much as it had before, with the dancing and chanting and the chafing of the hoarse hair flails. When they had completed three circuits of the altar, one by one they detached themselves from the group. Mariel lay limply as she felt a mouth cover one breast, and then the other, felt fingers part the flesh of her sex and a mouth settle there and begin to suck at her as if they would draw her essence through her flesh. For a time, the discomfort of her position kept her focused away from what they were doing to her.

  Slowly, the stimulation penetrated her mind, bringing it to focus on the pleasure rather than her discomfort. With dread, she felt her body skating upward toward culmination as they continued to tease her flesh. She’d begun to groan and struggle feverishly against her bindings when she felt a probing of her lower orifices. She was penetrated simultaneously. It wrung a gasp from her and as it did, someone caught her head, shoving a cock into her mouth. They pumped into her with almost mindless frenzy, driving her body rapidly toward the pinnacle. Both priests came almost simultaneously as her body crested and the first tremors began to quake within her passage. Withdrawing, they left her hovering on the edge.

  She gasped, shuddering, stunned by the sudden cessation.

  She’d long since lost any concept of pleasing the demon. She could think of nothing but the teasing that left her on the edge, unfulfilled, desperate to have her ache appeased. She knew the demon that controlled them was teasing her so much as he was deriving his own pleasure. He’d found release. He wanted more.

  It was still nearly unbearable as the priests teased her with their mouths, bringing her to the edge again and again, but leaving before they’d given her surcease from the throbbing ache that only grew worse the longer they tormented her.

  She almost felt like weeping with relief when she felt one moved between her legs, felt the prod of cocks in her body’s openings, penetrating. When a third cock was thrust into her mouth, she began sucking it at once, felt her body struggling to reach the peak. They pounded into her like pistons, jarringly, forcing their bodies to rapid culmination—forcing hers over the edge at last into the bliss she’d been frantically seeking.

  She gasped in relief when they left her, sated, basking in the aftershocks that rippled through her and, for many moments, only dimly aware of the ritual continued around her even more frenziedly than before.

  She groaned in protest when they began to prod her passion from her body once more. They alternated, sometimes penetrating her body, at others merely licking and sucking her until she was ready to scream. Dimly, she began to realize that the ritual would not cease until all had used her body to find release.

  In time, she was only conscious of her body. The sound of the drums became the sound of her heart. The chanting was the rasping of her breath, in need, in torment, in blessed release. She drifted in and out of even that much awareness, prodded to focus by the demands of her body in response to the stimulation that was ceaseless, remorseless, almost unbearable.

  When she was finally released, she was lifted from the altar and carried to the bath once more. The bath was almost as much torment. As many times as her body had found release, it still hovered on the brink, still trembled with the aftershocks. She didn’t even know when she was deposited on the bed once more.

  She was too sore and exhausted to feel fear when she woke once more to discover the priests had come for her again. A good deal of dread suffused her, however.

  To her surprise, they merely dressed her, this time in a sheer, flowing blue robe, and left. Before she could consider whether or not she was up to attempting flight, Behsart stepped through the d
oorway, the manacles in his hands.

  Numbly, she watched as he secured them around her wrists. Her legs folded under her when he pulled her to her feet. Without a word, he bent down, scooped her into his arms and strode from the temple. When he’d climbed up behind her on the horse, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. She twisted, looking up at him in surprise and caught a flicker of something very human in his eyes before the demon surfaced once more.

  A tiny ray of hope filtered through her despite her weariness. She had thought even when the notion occurred to her that she might be able to reach the man held captive by the demon Behsart that it was no more than wishful thinking. She began to think, though, that Behsart was not nearly as strong as he believed himself to be—either that, or the man was far stronger that Behsart believed.

  They were still many days from Valdamer castle. Perhaps there was a chance of saving her life after all.

  Instead of stopping as he had before, Behsart merely pulled food from his pack and handed it to her. As she nibbled it, she considered the situation carefully, realizing that she had never before heard of a sacrifice being taken on pilgrimage to the different temples before she was taken to the castle and offered as sacrifice to the demons.

  Of course that didn’t necessarily mean a great deal. As far as she knew, there had been no sacrifices for many years, not since Lord Valdamer had first come to power.

  She frowned, realizing after several moments that there had actually been none since Valdamer had come to power. The other sacrifices had occurred when Lord Belean had been in power, the warlock Lord Valdamer had defeated to gain control of Daeksould.

  What, if anything, she wondered, might it mean beyond the fact that Valdamer had his own way of performing sacrifices to the demons?