Chapter 2

The simply rhythm of the beating drums woke Akakia from a deep sleep, still entwined with Liana, their breasts pressed together comfortably.

The Spellcaster and the Headman burst into the Sisterhouse, gradually escaping the spell of the Herb of Enlightenment, their eyes glowing red in the dim light, their bodies still shaking with the after-effects.

"We have chosen," the Headman intoned in a serious manner, at odds with his inability to stand up straight. "We have chosen Akakia for the Giving. Prepare her immediately. The Keesha have spoken."

The Sisters stared silently as the leaders of the tribe shambled erratically from the house, grabbing anything they could reach for support. As the door cover flapped against the frame, and the sound of the Spellcaster's mumbled chant slowly quietened, they all turned to Akakia, sitting up suddenly on the straw mattress she was sharing with Liana, her mouth open, but silent for a change.

"Come ladies, we have work to do," the eldest Sister stated firmly. She knew they were all a little disappointed not to be chosen. She was a little confused herself, unsure of the honour. She also knew that under the disappointment most of the women would also be relieved, and they all knew they had a lot of work to do.

Opening the sacred Giving chest carefully, the Sister pulled out a sacrificial robe - a simple full length spotless white garment - and held it against the new Chosen, after standing her up.

"This will fit Akakia. Congratulations, Sister. We all are most jealous."

This was enough to spur the Sisters into action, and they all leapt from their beds and began the preparations. The house was suddenly a blur of naked women and girls, heating water and assembling both oils and aromatic powders for the Chosen One.

Between dashes to and fro, each of the girls stopped to congratulate Akakia, and to kiss her chest between her naked breasts, then her neck, and then her lips; a traditional way to obtain good luck.

Akakia just stood silently and let things happen around her. She was slowly led to the tub, and made to sit down in the warm water, as her skin was scrubbed cleaner than it had been her whole life.

Then without warning the scrubbing became a gentle massage; the cleaning a caress; the contact with her skin a charged greeting. Akakia found herself aroused by all of the attention. Hands caressed her whole body, and eventually someone reached between her legs, and wiped her gently with a cloth. Two other girls lightly took her nipples into their mouths, and soothingly sucked as her hair was combed, and her temples rubbed just the right way.

As the girls attached to her breasts began to stroke her nipples with the very tips of their tongues, and the cloth between her legs was replaced by a number of gently curious fingers, her hips began to thrust gently in the tub and her breathing became shallow and erratic. The Sisters looked after her as tradition demanded. Her perceptions shrank to an erotic universe only the size of her body, their questing tongues tasted every part of her, fingers touched deep within her most intimate places. The stroking between her legs quickened in the slippery cave, and the mouths on her nipples explored more ambitiously as The Chosen was suddenly overtaken by an explosive climax, her legs clamping shut on the caressing fingers, her body screaming silently with the near-pain of it all, and then slowly relaxing back into the tub.

The Sisters slowly began their subtle movements once more, and it was not long before her body again quivered with the rigidity of an even more intense orgasm, quivering helplessly in the tub, spilling water on the floor, still not speaking; her body saying all that was necessary.

The Sisters slowly moved away from her now limp body, and continued with the preparations, dropping scented oils in the water, and plaiting her hair in an ornate pattern. Suddenly she was being helped from the tub, and rubbed vigorously with a set of soft dry cloths, her skin glowing a little from the friction and the heat surrounding her. As soon as she was suitably dry, the Sisters took turns to anoint her with their best oils, and then she was dusted with flower-scented powders.

Before long, she stood again in front of them, clean, aromatic, innocent and still silent. She couldn't seem to form the words she wanted to say, and anyway her mind was still reliving the events in the tub. After a minute or two, the senior Sister remembered about the robe, and placed it over her shoulders, and encouraged the Chosen to slip her arms into the sleeves. No sooner was the robe tied in front than the Headman returned, a little steadier on his feet now, and demanded that Akakia follow him.

Taking a small drum from the folds of his clothing, the Headman walked slowly back outside, Akakia following, unquestioning and still in shock. The Spellcaster met them outside the doorway, and the trio walked off into the darkness in time to the Headman's little drum. The Sisters called out a farewell to the Chosen One from inside the house, and the scattered members of the tribe headed back to bed, with the exception of Akakia's mother, who sat by the fire, proud but weeping quietly for the loss of her little girl.

As the two old men and the shocked Akakia walked slowly from the trees to the Valley of the Giving, the darkness was beginning to give way to the morning. The headman stood beating the drum in the still air as the Spellcaster tied Akakia's hands firmly to the ropes left for the purpose, her arms stretched out tightly, on a slight upward angle, leaving just enough slack to allow slight movements. Testing the bonds carefully, the Spellcaster finally nodded to the Headman, and he immediately ceased beating the drum, and came and placed his hand on Akakia's forehead.

"Chosen Sister, you have been given the highest honour our tribe can convey. Our future rests in your hands. Do not disappoint us. The tribe demands this of you." He stepped away from the girl, and was immediately replaced by the Spellcaster, who extracted some flower petals from his robe, and sprinkled them on her, chanting quietly as he threw them, pulled her robe open, and then also stepped back.

The Headman and the Spellcaster walked around, gathering small sticks from the damp ground, piling them neatly upwind from the helplessly cold Chosen One. Once the pile was of sufficient size, the Spellcaster removed a small leather bag hanging from his hip. He tipped a grey powder from the bag over the sticks, chanting quietly to himself. As soon as he was finished, the Headman removed a similar bag from his own clothing, and tipped a darker powder of the sticks in the same way, saying nothing.

In the early dawn light the pile of sticks began to smoke, and then to glow. The men bowed over the small fire and inhaled the drifting smoke. It took only a few lungsful of the fumes to have an effect, and as Akakia watched silently, shivering in the cold, both of the old men opened their robes and revealed their sudden erections.

As they flickered in the unsteady glow of the fire, they each took themselves in hand, stroking steadily as they stood before the fire. For a start, Akakia was just surprised. Why were they behaving like this? It was at that moment that the fumes reached her nose, and she was no longer curious. Instead, she was desperate. She wanted to assist them, to have them, to take them.

Akakia called to the men, and they ignored her, sliding their hands up and down solid shafts, concentrating on what they were doing. Before too long, the Spellcaster grunted, thrust his hips instinctively, and climaxed, his semen bursting from his body and flying through the air to land mostly on the flames. The seed hissed and cooked on the fire, and just as the evidence was beginning to disappear it was joined by an even stronger ejaculation from the Headman, who groaned and pumped himself with better aim. He held himself proudly erect for a moment, and then he seemed to return to his normal self, and his body relaxed as they both stood before the fire, cocks drooping in their wrinkled hands.

The two old men turned and hobbled back to the village without saying another word.

Akakia stood tied in the early dawn, cold, near-naked, in the path of the smoke, and deeply aroused. She wished she could move her hands a little. She wouldn't have hesitated to attend herself at this point, but she couldn't reach. Her nipples were rock hard with arousal, and her nether lips were swelled and dripping despite the cold.