Some Kind of Voodoo

I don't know how long I was out for, but I woke still in the dark, nude now, laid out on a raised platform covered with soft furs. I could feel a warm body hovering over mine, and the tickle of long hair against my chest. It had to be him. It had to be. My erection, which had flagged before, seemed to think so, as it came back with a throbbing vengeance.

"Makya?"

There was no answer from him. I reached out for him, only to find that my hands were bound above my head. Loosely, and with leather straps that had the fur still on the inside, so as not to chafe. My legs were spread and tied as well, laid across the altar like a ceremonial sacrifice.

Wait, sacrifice?

The thought did much to cool my libido, panic spiking my heart rate. Surely they wouldn't, after all this time, draw blood for their gods, the blood of a stranger? The shaman gave me no answer, but I could feel him sliding down my body.

The next feeling pushed away all doubt—at least for now. Warm, wet lips wrapped around the head of my cock. I groaned, my eyes fluttering, then closing, giving up on straining in the gloom. The only noise was the soft suck of his mouth against my skin as he took me in deeper. His tongue lapped against the sensitive underside, tracing up the thicker vein there until the tip of the slick muscle could probe at the slit. I could feel him licking away the seeping pre-cum there, and he hummed contentedly, or perhaps in some vague approval.

His hands slid up my legs from knee to groin, stroking my thighs with his palms damp, I could only assume from paint. I heard him shift, and then his hands came away. He swallowed my cock again, this time halfway down, sucking hard so suddenly I thought for sure I would orgasm then and spoil the wonderful torture prematurely. His fingers wrapped around the base of my erection, pinching painfully to hold me back. I felt a groan rumble in my chest, and I pulled against the bonds, my hips thrusting up towards that delicious mouth with a life of their own.

There was a soft chuckle in the darkness as he pulled up again, his tongue tracing thin, teasing lines along my inner thighs now, his cheek pressed against the hard side of my cock.

"Makya," I groaned, curling my hands into light fists. The Amon did not torture their victims, I knew that, so did he have to tease me so now? I felt his warm skin as he slid up my body again, his mouth feathering up my chest, until he finally began to lap at my throat.

"Shh," he soothed, his tongue flicking at my earlobe, before he sucked it into his mouth. I moaned again at the sensation, wonder when I had lost such control of my own body. I felt smooth legs move to either side of my hips, and he ground down on top of me, until I could feel his own erection against mine. Like the rest of him, it was slender, but long, and each delicious roll of his hips had me panting. His tongue dipped into my ear for a moment, before his cheek brushed mine.

I could feel his lips, slightly swollen, dance up my jaw. I opened my mouth, wanting him, wanting to taste him so badly as he continued to grind against me in slow, sweet torture. He licked my lower lip, and then backed off. I heard a weak, needy, and frustrated sound, realizing belatedly that it came from my own beckoning lips.

And then, he was gone. Panting, dripping precum onto my own chest, I could hear his footsteps off in the dark somewhere, but all I knew was that I had lost the warm body I craved so much. I was about to call for him again, ready to plead if need be, when I caught a mild, sweet scent of the oil they often used for cleansing themselves. Warm, I felt it drip onto my cock, before his fingers followed. God, it was heavenly. His breath tickled my ear, as his hand liberally coated my erection with the oil. Again, I felt him slide up on top of me, straddling me once more.

He began to speak, though not to me, his whispers so soft, and the words so exaggerated I could barely understand him, especially in my current state. I only felt him shift as he beseeched the gods, before that pert ass I had watched so closely rubbed against my hard length.

"Mak—"

His palm pressed against my mouth to silence me, before he began to lower himself down. I felt the head of my cock against his puckered entrance, oiled as well, and waiting for me. And…god he was tight, moving sinuously on top of me as he arched down, driving me deeper up into him. I heard a moan break his words, and he shuddered, stopping only when my balls pressed against his smooth cheeks, and he sat fully impaled in my lap. I could have died a happy man then, almost cumming from the tight heat. I panted against that hand, a heavy groan sounding more like that of an animal.

And then, he began to move.

His voice became louder, little gasps breaking his incantations as he pulled himself up again, until I nearly came out of him, before he drove himself back down hard, so sudden again I almost lost control. My hips bucked up towards him, out of my control with hunger. Now, at least, he responded to that. He let go of my mouth, and his hands waved somewhere out in the air above us. Bending that lithe dancer's body, he rode me fast now, driving himself down hard with each roll of his hips. His words were lost to quick pants, internal muscles spasming around me.

God…it was too much. I pulled hard against the bonds, thrusting up to meet him every time he came down. I wanted so badly to touch him, to bring him down beneath me instead and claim him, with my mouth, with my hands—everything. Condemned to be overcome by him again, when he drove himself down again and ended it with a little grind, I saw stars burst in the darkness.

My body arched, my head tossing back with a cry that came more like a scream from the release that surprised even me. I thrust up into him, feeling myself spill over, flooding him. His own cry came sharp and sweet, before his body tightened around me. Six splashes of warm cum splattered onto my chest and stomach, before his hands pressed to either side of my head, hovering over me in stillness for now as he panted.

"Accept this man," he whispered to the dark, his words more familiar now, even if they came breathless, "as an Amon, and let him forget that there was ever a thought of a greater people."

His cheek rested against my brow, and I could feel the oily pant dripping onto my skin, slick with sweat now, too. I smiled, and fell limp, content to sleep there beneath the shaman. The gods, I knew, had granted his request.