Sacrificial Lamb Pt. 01

Breathing hard and shaking in the wind, Hemma looked around herself, only to be met by the blank and hard stares of the temple assembly. A couple of them looked confused, and one even might have looked concerned, but she didn't step up to help if she was. Hemma refused to let these monsters intimidate her. She stared them down angrily, looking at each and every one of them. She hadn't stopped fighting since the shock wore off, and she wasn't going to stop now. A strong wind rushed through the courtyard, hitting Hemma from the side, ripping at her dress, pulling at the torn fabric, and revealing one of her breasts. Desperate for her modesty, and face burning in shame, Hemma started struggling again, trying to plead through the gag.

A priest wearing an ornate robe stepped forward and with his back to the tree, addressed the small crowd. "Once again we make our sacrifice to our lord Fosta, bringer of the rains, the tides, judgment, and justice. One citizen chosen by fate to stand before the god and face judgment for their wrong doings to protect our city for another year. While this year's chosen is... unusual... she was chosen... publicly. She will stand as the sacrifice as others have for the past 328 years. Nothing has changed. Perhaps this is demanded to end this prolonged cold season. Regardless, here she stands and here she will remain for the next three days, or until judgment has been dealt." With this, the priest finally turned to Hemma and approached with a small bowl in hand. He dipped a finger into the bowl and it came out covered in a black substance. Nodding to another priest who had approached without Hemma noticing, the second priest pulled a knife from his robes. Hemma screamed as best she could through the gag and pulled at her restraints, rubbing her wrists raw.

He approached with the knife, placed it at the nape of her neck and whispered harshly, "Stay still." Now breathing rapidly, she froze at the feel of the cold metal against her skin. She closed her eyes and felt the knife move. Then her arms were suddenly freezing cold. Her eyes shot open, realizing he had cut off the remaining top of her dress. Her skin was burning with hot blush against the cold as the top half of her body was laid bare. She flinched when the robed priest reached forward and started tracing intricate patterns on her forehead, down her neck, across her shoulders, and finally across her chest. A majority of the design centered around her heart, but his hand worked across her breasts as well. He remained focused on his task, not lingering in any one place for too long, to Hemma's relief.

By the time he was done, her entire body, from stomach to forehead, was covered in black lines, crossing and curving over each other. Miraculously, they seemed to warm her body, almost as if she had on a warm wool coat even though she could still feel the wind as it whipped around her body.

The priest leaned in suddenly, and just above a whisper said, "If it was any other time we would intervene, but this year... I'm sorry, but this year we need the favor. We can't risk further angering an already angry god. I'm sorry..."

With that, he stepped back, looked over his work, and nodded his satisfaction. He turned to the onlookers and walked through them, back into the temple. Slowly the assembly followed one by one until she stood alone in the snow, half naked, and bound to a tree.

...

It felt like hours she stood there, watching the snow fall. At first she was anxious, waiting for something to happen, expecting lightning to strike or something terrible to happen, but after a long while of nothing but silence and the occasional gust of wind, she grew bored. The magic in the pattern the priest had drawn kept her comfortably warm and she found herself drifting. She grew drowsy and her head bobbed as she tried to keep herself awake. She wanted to stay aware and on guard for whatever happened next but the ordeal of the day was catching up with her and the magic of the patterns lulled her into a sense of comfort and warmth despite the weather, making her lids heavy and pulling her into unconsciousness.

...

Hemma woke with a start. Disoriented, the first thing she noticed was that she was laying down. She sat up with a wince, feeling every muscle in her body protest at the action. She stretched her arms over her head, noticing that her dress was still a tattered mess around her waist and the black patterns on her body had smudged in her movement. Eyes now focusing out of her sleepy haze, she saw that she was in a room, laying on a simple bed, on top of a blanket. At the end of the bed a dress was laid out. Also at the foot of the bed laid a massive wolf. Its head lifted up as they made eye contact, and Hemma held her breath. Never before had she seen such a large, wild beast so close up. It carried an air of danger with its very presence. It's golden eyes met her own for a moment and then the animal stood, with a deep grunt it stretched like a cat, and then it trotted out of the room through an empty doorway.

The danger seemingly gone for the moment, Hemma hopped up and grabbed the dress, quickly putting it on over her own before removing the remains of her green velvet. The new dress was also green. It was silky and much too light for the climate, but Hemma didn't give it too much thought as she made a mad dash for the door.

She ran, so ready for this ordeal to be over. She had expected at any moment for her betrothed to send someone to clear this all up and see her freed. And for a moment that is where she thought she might be, at the estate on the vineyard on the other side of the island. The further we ran, however, the more she began to suspect she was nowhere near an estate on a vineyard. Right outside the small bedroom was a set of stairs leading up. Not seeing any other option, Hemma ran up the stairs. She was in fairly good shape from working on her parents farm, shearing sheep, hauling wool, weaving, and cleaning, but she was certainly no athlete. By the time she made it to the third flight of stairs she was breathing hard and feeling light headed. Doors at each floor were locked and torches on stone walls lit her way. She was feeling claustrophobic in the enclosed space of the stairwell, the air felt like it hadn't moved in a melinia.

Finally at the top of the third flight, a room opened up before her, filled with sunlight. She looked around in wonder where she realized where she was. A cavern opened up before her with ceilings at least twenty feet tall. The smooth walls were covered in the same intricate patterns she had seen all over the city, except somehow these felt more ancient and embedded with power. Most of the light was coming from an opening in the ceiling that formed a perfect circle with a ten foot diameter where she could see the sky above. She also saw light at the far side of the room, and with renewed adrenaline, raced to what looked like the entryway.

Right before she reached freedom she heard a roar and was tackled to the ground by the same wolf she had seen when she woke. The wolf now held her down and was easily as large as she was, if not larger. Its teeth were bared as it growled viciously into her face. Terrified, Hemma yelped and brought her arms up to shield her face. For a moment neither of them moved, and Hemma peaked out from behind her arms to see the wolf staring down at her. It was impossible, but Hemma thought it looked almost worried and confused, breathing harder than normal. It looked toward the light and Hemma followed its gaze. Her eyes adjusted to the bright light after having been in the torch light for so long, and realized the fate she had just avoided. The cavern opened up to a sheer cliff that overlooked the ocean. If she had managed to make it through like she had tried, she would have fallen a hundred feet straight into the rocks where waves now crashed.

Hemma let out a shuddering breath realizing how close she had been to death. The wolf moved away and she scooted away from the edge of the drop that she was basically sitting on. Once a safe distance from certain death, Hemma laid back down, her head swimming, trying to catch her breath. Instead of slowing her breathing, they instead became small sobs as tears she couldn't hold back streaked down her temples and onto the floor beside her. She couldn't remember a time she felt more lost or helpless. She didn't know where she was, her life had been torn away from her, she had been roughly handled, stripped naked multiple times, and now she was lost in a cave with a wolf that was probably going to eat her.

The wolf. Hemma sat back up and looked around, still sniffling, trying to make the tears stop flowing. The wolf had backed up to the far side of the cavern and sat watching her warily. Content that she wasn't in immediate danger of being mauled, Hemma stood up and examined her surroundings more thoroughly. Even though the space had appeared to be just a large cave at first glance, Hemma now saw that someone had obviously been living here, making this place their home. Boulders had been carved into seats and tables, adorned with pillows, furs, and piles and piles of books. The more she looked, the more books she saw. In fact, it was a miracle she hadn't knocked over any of the piles during her mad dash. They were orderly, each stack perfectly straight, but the books stacked on the floor and tables vastly outnumbered those actually on shelves that were carved ornately into the cavern walls. Hemma stepped up to a stack and examined the spines for titles, but they weren't written in a language she understood. Another stack was written in a different language, and another in another. Each stack she looked at was written in a different language, not one that she could understand.

"What are you doing here?"

Hemma ducked down behind the stacks she stood by, heart hammer in her chest, as the deep voice seemed to thunder through the previously silent room. There was no way he saw me. I was nowhere near the door and hidden behind the stacks. Hemma reasoned, hoping beyond hope she was right.

"I thought I told you to leave. Your "kind" words upon our last meeting have yet to leave my thoughts. I don't need your silent judgment now."

Hemma heard a deep huff and growl and realized he must be talking to the wolf. And he was talking as if the animal had talked back?

"AGH!" Hemma yelped as a hand gripped her by the back of the neck and dragged her into the light.

"And what have we here? Is it that time again already?" Before her stood the largest man Hemma had ever seen. He stood two heads taller than her and at least twice as large. He shoved her into the light and looked at her with a wicked smile, only to drop her as if she had burned him, the moment he saw her.

"What is this?" he seethed, turning toward the wolf with a palpable anger. "This is NOT what I meant! You think this will help me? This... human?" He spat the last word, turning back to Hemma as she cowered, stumbling, trying to back away and landing on her ass. "If you think to bring me this woman in place of my tribute, know she will pay what I am owed."

The wolf growled at the man's back, snarling and biting the air.

Without looking back at the beast, the man responded in a deadly quiet voice, "Try and meddle in my affairs again, and it will be more than just some human that meets my wrath. Leave, and don't come back until judgment has been seen though." The wolf backed down with a wine at the threat and walked to the cliff. Looking back, it met Hemma's eyes once more and she saw an intelligence there. The wolf looked almost apologetic, or was it scared? It then turned and lept off the cliff.

"No!" Hemma gasped, scrambling to the edge of the cliff. All she saw was a white and brown bird of prey swooping past the cliffs and off toward the ocean. The wolf was gone.

Hemma's shoulders tensed as she felt the man's presence behind her. "Get up." He commanded harshly. "My time is valuable and I don't intend to waste anymore on you."

She got up and turned toward the man. She looked up to meet his gaze, intending to show that she did not fear him, but the intensity of his anger filled gaze forced her to look back down. This mad exuded power. There was nothing about him that made her doubt he could, and would, kill her in a second with hardly a second thought if she gave him any trouble.

"Come," He barked, and walked back toward the stairs she had just ascended. He didn't look back and Hemma didn't dare try and run again. There was no obvious way out of this place, and even if there was, she had no doubt he would catch her before she made it three steps. She followed, having to half run to keep up with his long, purposeful strides. After a period of silent walking, they stood in front of the room Hemma had woken in. It contained a bed, a small table, and a large fur on the floor. No windows suggested it was underground, and a heavy wooden door was held ominously open.

He motioned for her to enter, but Hemma suddenly couldn't move. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to avoid entering this room at all costs. Her hesitation only seemed to annoy the giant more and he grabbed her arm with a grunt and threw her into the room. She hit the side of the bed and found herself on her knees, head spinning. He strode into the small room after her, his shoulders barely fitting through the door frame, and slammed the door behind him.

"Please," Hemma started to beg from the floor. "Please, I have a betrothed. I've never..."

He cut her off with a scoff and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to meet his face.

"Do you know who I am, girl?"

Hemma shook her head as best she could, wincing as her hair was pulled tighter with the motion.

"I am Fosta. God of tides and winds. I am the god that decides the fate of each and every seafaring nation. I have the power to crush kings and end empires just because I didn't like the taste of their wine. And you think that I care who you are or what you want? You are only here because your priests deemed you worthy of my judgment. You are only here because my niece doesn't know how to mind her own business."

He paused in his rant to look her over once more. His gaze traveled down her body, pausing on her ass and the swell of her breasts. The dress she wore was technically modest in its cut, but the thin material made it practically see-through with the way it clung to her body. The way he looked at her made her feel like she might as well be naked.

"Perhaps I will have you," He said with a smirk. "You aren't horrible to look at and it has been a while."

"Please, don't-"

His other hand took her by her throat. "You lost your right to choose what happens to you as soon as you picked up that stone. You are now mine to do with as I see fit."

Fosta threw Hemma onto the small bed, and was on her again before she could gather herself. He made quick work of her dress, ripping it in half as Hemma protested. He grabbed her by the throat again, tightening his grip until she quieted. Knees on either side of her thighs, Fosta leaded back to take in the naked woman laid out before him.

He really hadn't been with a human woman in so long, he had almost forgotten how pleasing they could be to look at. Her breasts weren't overly large and her tall frame was complemented by ample hips and a soft stomach. Her hair was a dark auburn, unusual for this area, but not unheard of, and her fair skin suggested a limited amount of exposure to hard labor in the heat of the day. A noble woman then, or priestess in training, or wealthy family at the least. Even better for it then, thought the god, humble those who might think themselves above the rest of their kind.

Hemma squirmed beneath the scrutiny, pinned to the bed by neck and thighs. She had never been this exposed to a man before. And that is what he looked like, a man. She didn't know what she had expected a god to look like, but for some reason, a young, well built man with an attitude problem was not what she had expected. Without his unbearable glare focused on her own face at the moment, Hemma found herself able to sneak a better look at the god's face. It did still look young, like she had first assessed, but closer inspection revealed some lines around the eyes and forehead, and his eyes looked too full of life experience to be close to her own age. He had dark, wavy hair and a red tinted beard. He looked like what she imagined the Norsemen looked like, when she had heard the ship's captain talk about their trade with the warriors from the north. Tall, and built like ships themselves.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt the bed shift and saw the god pull off his own clothes. In the dim light of the single torch, she could see a well built man covered in hundreds of all different types of scars. Her eyes went wide at the thought of what all he must have been through to earn so many. The years and years it must have taken to acquire such a collection.

"Have you ever seen a man?" Fosta asked.

"Not like you," she whispered before she realized what she had said. She blushed furiously, but it seemed to please him, and the god smirked down at the naked woman, relishing in her innocence.

"Do you touch yourself, sweet? Thinking of all these men who aren't like me?" Hemma just stared wide eyed at the god, never having ever been spoken to this way.

"Would you touch yourself now? Show me what you like, warm yourself up for me?"

She couldn't imagine doing such a thing! She shook her head, unable to form any words.

The god shrugged, and ran a hand down her side, cupping a breast and playing with the nipple. "So be it," he said with a sigh as her nipple hardened at his attention. He sounded almost disappointed.

Hemma couldn't believe what was happening. She didn't want this. She wanted to be home and with her new husband, in their wedding bed. Purity wasn't a deal breaker in these kinds of arranged marriages, but it was preferred, and Hemma had always followed the rules and stayed out of trouble. There was no way that she deserved this! There was no way she wanted this!

And yet, as he moved his other hand from her throat to her second breast, she felt a pull deep in her stomach, a feeling no one other than herself has ever made her feel. And this time it felt stronger, and different somehow. She tried again to plead her case to the god but her word fell on deaf ears and his hands started to work lower until they cradled her ass. One hand snaked its way around her hip and into her hair. It dipped into her core and Hemma knew it would be wet. His smirk widened, confirming her suspicion.

"You want this don't you? A desperate little virgin aching for the touch of a man."

"No!" she tried to protest, but it quickly turned into a gasp as his finger moved up and found her clit.

"That's it, little one, feel what I can do to you."

Hemma lost all cohesive thought, as the pleasure washed over her. It was different than anything she had ever felt by herself. He focused the pressure on her clit and worked in slowly quickening circles until she was moving with him, pushing into his hand, seeking out the pleasure he was bringing her.

He had forgotten how satisfying it could be, this kind of control. Watching this human's reluctance fade and the carnal pleasures take over was intoxicating. Fosta felt his cock harden as he brought the human closer to her peak. Demonstrating more self control than he had in years, he held back, wanting to bring her to fruition.

Hemma was gone from this world, with only one focus. The pleasure built higher, until she could feel she was almost there. Finally, she burst, her entire body seizing in the pleasure that embraced her like lightning. His hand kept moving over her, forcing the orgasm to continue, until she was wriggled away, the sensation too intense. She came back to herself then, realizing her hand was gripping a thick wrist, and the other gripped the blanket she laid on.