No Chants at All

She would never know how many had pulsed their seed into her vagina, and eventually into her anus, or how many times each man had revisited them. She passed out from an exhaustion born of the assault and the repeated orgasms. When the brethren were finally unable to continue they stole back to their cells and left her comatose in a lake of semen. And curiously, with the odor of raw fuel...

*************

"Here! Through here!" came the cry. "It looks like one survived. She's stuck in her harness, but she's breathing and speaking! Get a back board, there's probably a concussion."

"What's she babbling?" asked one rescuer. "It sounds like 'fat monk penis'. No, it couldn't be. Why would she say that?"

"Huh, that is odd," said another. "There used to be a monastery near here, but there was a scandal with a local girl. The order was disbanded and the place fell to ruins hundreds of years ago. Maybe she'd heard about it?"

"I don't get these readings. She's twitching and flushed, her heart rate is way up, but her BP is pretty low. Damned if this doesn't look like..."

"Whoa, careful, looks like she lost control of her bladder."

The other man sniffed. "Maybe, but that's not all of it. This woman's been, uh, lubricating. Man, I've seen some weird reactions to concussion but this is the strangest. Here, let's get her to the chopper, hospital's waiting."

END

*****

With love from Nico, March 2015