| The Cave (Mf, rape, human sacrifice, but then, mf love)
[Warning: If it is illegal for you to read sex stuff, my condolences, but
fuck off. The events depicted in this are performed strictly in the
imagination of a professional. No not try this shit at home. If you read on,
please maintain at least one hand on your controls at all times. If you
wanna’ publish this for profit, ya’ better ask me first. Finally, tell me
what you think at <<Abelard_fra@hotmail.com>>.]
Somewhere on the French Riviera, 8000 BC…
Part one: the escape
The flames danced on the walls of the cave as fifteen year
Manjou began to prepare for the ceremony. In the precise manner
perscribed by Fukor, the High Priest, Manjou carefully sprinkled the fresh
oregano leaves he had collected all over the altar. As was proper, he cast
every third handful into the fire just behind it. Soon the heady smell of the
burnt spice filled the cavern. When his basket was empty, Manjou went
back to the cages where the were kept. There were only two left.
He ignored the dark one from the village and looked at the pretty
little one whom his had captured from the Svedos tribes far
to the north. She looked to be twelve or thirteen winters old. Manjou
liked the with her budding and lithe figure. She was exotic
and very different from his dark haired and brown eyed sisters and
cousins. He had begged his to give the to him, but the
warrior had needed a blessing for a wound he had recieved and had given
her to the shaman instead. Now she looked at him with terror in her grey-
blue eyes, and he started to turn away.
He felt in his clothes for the little round metalic chooser he had
made in imitation of the real chooser the priest used. The priest's chooser
was a disk with a rune on the front and a crescent on the back. It was used
to decide which of two paths to take. Manjou's had a crescent on both
sides. He held it up to the and said, "I will save you with this, if they
don't discover my trick and cut my guts out..."
The Svedos reached for him through the bars and asked
something very plaintively. Manjou did not understand, but then she
opened her pelt, pointed to his genitals, then to hers, then to the entrance
to the cave. Manjou shook his head. He would have liked to, but it surely
would mean his death if he allowed her to fuck her way to freedom
through him. She hung her head and began to cry quietly. Manjou felt a
very great wave of pity sweep over him. He thought, "If you and I survive
tonight, pretty one, I will try to see if I can win you at Betong tomorrow."
Manjou knew that Betong, the stick game, was the Highpriest's passion.
He played recklessly and often lost many of the gifts that the tribe lay at
his feet. If he could win the girl, he would take her to the cave he had
discovered about a mile up the river.
Manjou went on to the shaman's resting place to prepare the
fermented goatsmilk for the great man. As he approached the wood
framed pallet with its soft furs, he saw that the priest was preparing to
have sexual intercourse with a child of no more than nine, while the
child's held her down. The woman watched with a satisfied smile
as the priest broke the girl's hymen. The screamed in pain but Manjou
knew that it was a small price to pay. Now she would never be sacrificed;
the shaman would know that she was not a virgin. It was a practice that
was becoming more common in the tribe. Mother's knew well Fukor's lust
for very girls, and brought them to him willingly, both to placate
the shaman and to save their daughters. Unfortunately this meant that at
the Arstati, the annual spring rites to insure a fruitful harvest, the
population of virgins in the tribe was becoming slim, and raiding parties
had to be sent out to capture slaves.
As the shaman gave a satisfied grunt and the woman took her
bleeding child into her arms, Manjou came forward with the fermented,
honeyed goatsmilk. The priest drank deeply and then tossed the cup aside
as he stood, belched, and farted mightily. He then wrapped himself in his
stinking skins and ordered Manjou to follow him to the cages one hundred
paces away. "Bring the chooser, novice. We will see which of the virgins
the gods want tonight."
Manjou said, "Sire, there is but one more portion of the mead here.
Will you not slake your thirst with it so that your women can fill the skin
afresh in the morning?"
The shaman took the skin and drank from it straight, the strong
fermented drink running out the sides of his mouth and adding to the
matted mess of his beard. As he lowered the skin he staggered slightly.
As Manjou knew, he had drunk nearly an entire skin of the stuff today.
Through his clever ruse with the two crescent chooser, Manjou
manages to see to it that the dark haired is chosen for the sacrifice that
night. She is a of fourteen, to be a virgin still, but just fully
budding, with a rounded and swelling ass, and puffy nipples. She knows
that she is to be sacrificed on the altar of Ongin, god of the harvest, but
Manjou has slipped some mushrooms and some grinsaw weed into her
evening meal of oat mush and honeyed goatsmilk, so she is now in a
swooning sexual fever. In fact when Manjou comes to lead her out of the
cage, she spreads her legs wide, begging him to fuck her. Manjou admires
the swollen cunt, and even cups it with his hand, feeling its heat. Her
whole inner thigh is slimy with evidence of her desire. Manjou smiles at
her as she reaches for his cock, but backs up toward the door. She follows
willingly, and Manjou clasps her wrist and leads her to the preparing
room, where the women wait to bathe and anoint her.
That evening, the Shaman is too drunk and too sexually sated to
achieve a proper erection for the sacrifice of the dark virgin. In a rage he
stabs her to death on the altar. The elders are shocked by the sacrilege and
mutter darkly among themselves. The virgin should have been
inseminated forcefully and then her heart cut from her body still beating to
be burned in the sacrificial fire.
Surely the aborted act will anger the god, Ongin, and he will turn
his face from the people. The Shaman overhears the ominous tones and
turns on the group with his iron sword. There is a fight, and several are
killed. The Shaman himself is gravely wounded. In the general melee,
Manjou manages to free the Svedos maiden and steal away with her to his
The is overjoyed to be free, and begins immediately to plot
how to escape the village entirely. Manjou, however, is no fool, and when
he sees her looking all too carefully at the surrounding countryside as they
head for his cave, he knows that he will have to keep a close eye on her.
For the night, however, he will clean her in the river, and feed her.
She spends a long time in the river, washing her hair and using
hassleberry leaves, which form a slippery sort of lather good for
untangling her heavy, long tresses. When she is nearly done, she finds
some spearmint growing along the bank and uses it to give her hair a final
rinse. She emerges from the moonlit river a slim goddess, wringing her
heavy golden hair, smelling like nothing that Manjou has ever smelled
before. She refuses to put on her foul pelt, and, instead, walks proudly up
to Manjou completely naked, a twelve year budding virgin. When she
gets close, she wrinkles her nose and, taking Manjou by the hand, leads
him into the river also. When they are both clean, they walk naked to his
cave in the moonlight, allowing the warm Mediterranean air dry them.
In his cave Manjou produces honeyed, fermented goat's milk,
breadstuffs his has baked, cheese, and wild berries. They eat
hungrily. When she is finished, Manjou reaches for the girl.
As the meal has wound down, she has been watching him warily,
and now scoots back an inch or two, and drops her head in a sad frown.
She knows that, if he wants to, he can take her forcefully. He is bigger
and stronger than she, but she seems to be trying to discourage him as best
she can without goading him into angry rape.
Manjou, for his part is surprised. He has assumed, foolishly he
now realizes, that since she knows she was to be destroyed, she will be
grateful for her deliverance. Also, of course, she did offer sex for freedom
before, didn't she? He can feel the anger building in him as he turns to
look at her. She sees his anger and holds very still, her head bent, looking
up at him from under her brows while tears form in her eyes. He finds her
But the Manjou is bewildered. This is unlike any behavior
he has encountered before. Since he has reached puberty, every time he
has shown anger toward a woman she has cowered and offered herself
sexually. Even his cousin, after she had broken one of Manjou's
cups, immediately got on her hands and knees and presented her ass to
him to do with what he would. He had laughed and slapped her rump hard,
the fat sow.
But the Svedos is different. She will not "present" her sex to
him. She continues to plead with him with her eyes while sitting firmly
on, even concealing, her sexual parts. Manjou finds himself reverting to a
childish ploy. He shrugs and smiles questioningly at her.
The effect of this absolutely astounds him. Having ascertained
that he will not force himself on her, she is ecstatic and aroused. It is as if
lights go on inside the girl. She positively glows and she opens up and
moves toward him. She reaches for his penis and begins caressing it softly
as, with her other hand, she draws his head to hers. Manjou understands
instinctively that that small concession of power has turned the situation
Presently the does a very strange thing it seems to Manjou. She
tries to put her mouth on his mouth. Manjou shies away, thinking she
means to bite him. But she makes soft consoling sounds and smiles
alluringly at him while she and licks one upper corner of her lip slowly.
Manjou comes in closer and she softly, slowly gives him the first kiss he
has ever had. Manjou, no fool, recognizes the pleasure to be derived from
such an activity, and soon they are kissing and licking each other's mouths
Although he has fucked before, the night with the Svedos is a
totally different experience for Manjou. The is a virgin, but she seems
deeply wise, too. Manjou's senses are completely filled up with the girl.
He is drunk on her body. He looks at and touches every part. His head
rests sometimes on her rump, admiring the downy peach fuzz of her ass
two inches from his eyes, reaching between her legs, feeling the softness
of her inner thigh.
His head rests on her thigh, looking up her body, his nose two
inches from her cunt, his fingers gently exploring the folds of her vagina.
His head rests beside hers, staring into those strange grey, bottomless eyes.
For her part, the alternates between softness, tranquility, and deep
heaving passion. They fuck in bout after bout, in every imaginable
position, seeking leverage and advantage of thrust at each peak, followed
by soft drowsy sated serenity at each lull. They fuck again and again.
Nobody's counting, nobody cares. It seems to Manjou that they are trying
to merge completely.