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“The Holocaust was scary,” I say in a quiet voice. “Even I wouldn’t joke about that.”
The huge man is immediately repentant, his expression going somber even if his strides don’t slow.
“I agree,” he says in a low voice. “I’m sorry for making that comment about the gas chamber shower stalls. It was unnecessary, and not funny at all.”
I take a deep breath and nod, staring at my sneakers as we walk, appreciating his immediate apology. Drake’s different from what I thought, actually. At first, I believed him to be a huge hunk of beefcake, which he is. He’s tall, bronzed, and heavily muscled from the physical act of fishing for hours every day. But he’s also articulate and well-versed, with a nuanced understanding of historical events. Even better, his judgment is solid. He wasn’t offended when I shut him down when it came to the Holocaust, and I’m glad we see eye to eye on the importance of respect for such a terrible event in human history.
Still, he’s shepherding me to the site of my sacrificial ceremony, and I want to get to the bottom of that. So I shoot him some side-eye and continue to probe.
“Any pointers on what to expect?” I ask dryly. “Or should I get on my knees and beg for mercy as soon as we arrive?”
Drake shoots me a grin, white teeth flashing in the late afternoon light.
“You’ll know when we get there,” he remarks in an off-hand manner. “It’ll be a good time for all.Especiallyfor the men who will observe.”
“You mean because of the gore?” I ask drily. “By the way, I should add that I’m not a virgin so your hopes of conducting a virgin sacrifice aren’t going to come true. I know a lot of these types of ceremonies call for young virgins who’ve never touched a man’s privates, but we’re way past that when it comes to me. Sorry to disappoint you guys.”
Drake throws his head back and laughs, revealing a dimple on his cheek. I have the oddest urge to press my lips against it, but hold myself in check. This isn’t the time to develop affection for my captor.
“No, we don’t need a virgin,” he answers in a wry tone while shooting me a sideways look. “In fact, I think an experienced woman would be best, seeing what’s going to happen.”
I stop and stare at him.
“Wait, what? I thought I was going to be put to death.”
But Drake just shrugs.
“You will, in a manner of speaking. A little death. Or maybe two little deaths, to be precise.”
I’m stunned and have no idea what to say. What in the world is he talking about? I was envisioning a ceremony where I’m bound, gagged, a chained to an altar, my nude form unable to move. Then, they’ll stick a hood over my head before slitting my femoral artery, leaving me to bleed out while they chant sacred hymns to a pagan god. But that’s arealdeath, and not some facsimile. So what in the world is he talking about?
I’m just about to ask but Drake’s steps speed up then. We’ve come upon a grassy knoll surrounded by trees and my heart beats when I see that there’s a collection of a two dozen men or so waiting. Sure enough, there’s a white marble altar at the center, complete with chains at all four corners. But that’s not what gets my heart racing. Instead, my pulse is pounding because once again, the men are huge, heavy, handsome, and best of all, heavily endowed. Each man’s two shafts are standing at the ready, and all I can think is …is that for me?
CHAPTER 9
Drake
Strawberry, I mean Amy, is a sassy one. The redhead’s standing stock still on the edge of the clearing, staring at my brothers. I acknowledge that my friends are a magnificent sight to behold because they’ve dispensed with their loincloths and stand naked, magnificent, and gleaming in the low light of the sun. Their double cocks are in various states of arousal, from totally flaccid to rock-hard and dripping. Nonetheless, they turn to look at us when we arrive, and quite a few cocks twitch upon seeing Strawberry’s luscious figure.
“What?” she gasps, her eyes round. “Why aren’t your friends wearing their loincloths? What’s the meaning of this?”
I shrug before ripping my loincloth away and tossing it to the ground. Strawberry audibly gasps, staring at my massive shafts. They twitch under her gaze, as if saying hello.
“We don’t wear loincloths all the time,” I explain in an off-hand tone. “Like now. We’re among friends, right?”
She sputters.
“Are you guys a nudist colony?”
Her question makes me chuckle despite myself. The little filly has an amusing sense of humor, and I’m always surprised at what she pulls out of the hat.
“No,” I reply. “Come on, Stone’s waiting. Let’s go.”
Then, without waiting, I stride forwards to the marble altar. The leader of our community, Stone, stands there, massive and imposing. Stone’s a good-looking motherfucker with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a physique that a bodybuilder would kill for. His biceps bulge as his frown deepens, and then Amy gasps. I know what she’s seeing. We’ve now come close enough to Stone to see that his equipment is a little different from the rest of ours because this asshole doesn’t have two cocks –he has three.
After all, genetic mutations run rampant among our population. We have no idea why, but there are a couple guys out there with forked tongues, multiple balls, feelers, and even one dude who has a cock growing out of his butt. That’s how I describe it, at least. He says that the ladies love it because they can ride him cowgirl while he’s lying face down, but I think he looks more like a packhorse at work, than a dude providing the ultimate pleasure.
Nonetheless, now that Strawberry’s here, we’re ready to get started.
