Sacrifice 250

The nipple clamps hurt for a moment as they were tightened, but soon the sensation of pain was replaced by sensations of passion. Buleena, chief of the prophetesses, tightened the clamps and attached the golden chains. She looked confused for a moment as to what to do with the seventh chain, so Olivia opened her mouth and Buleena set the end of the chain between her teeth.

Buleena reached down and slowly massaged Olivia's cunt. The sensations were so overwhelming that Olivia groaned loudly and nearly collapsed. Obviously, something was greatly magnifying the sexual satisfaction she was receiving as the chosen sacrifice.

"The gods have chosen well," said Buleena as she and her sisters began pulling Olivia around the town square.

Olivia did not mean to resist them. She wanted to follow them. She was going willingly. But for some reason, her body was resisting just enough so that tension was needed on the chains to pull her forward with each step that she took. That tension caused the butterfly clamps to tighten further which sent waves of sensations through her body causing her to hesitate in her step which required more tension to pull her forward. It was a rapidly escalating spiral of pain and pleasure.

She could also feel drops of liquid hitting her body. The crowd surged and pulsed around her as they walked. Ornate honey-dippers, held high above the heads of the crowd, were flicked in her direction.

There was very little actual honey in the slots of these elongated dippers. Unlike a ball honey dipper, whose design was optimized for drizzling honey on various pastries, these vaguely penis-shaped devices were primarily symbolic of impregnation. They held, and spewed forth, only a drop or two of honey. But one or two drops of honey, drizzled through the air from thousands of these phallic substitutes, soon had Olivia's skin glistening with sticky sweetness.

If you were located somewhere high above the crowd and watched Olivia's slow progress through the packed throng, you might think that she was a magical, mystical being of some sort. In front of her were the packed crowds jostling to be close to her as she passed. Around her were screaming men and women reaching out to touch her or to cast honey on her body. And behind her in an ever-widening spiral, was a naked sea of copulation.

From the time the sacrifice passed you on the night of choosing, until The Chosen One was cast into the planet's mouth, it was the duty of every adult member of the colony to demonstrate to the gods the act of fertility. All of that sexual energy would be channeled into the Temple of Jarleena's Mother. The sacrifice, lying on the Table of Fertility throughout the night, would absorb that energy. When The Chosen One could stand no more, she would be bound and cast into the mouth of the planet to take that sexual energy directly to the gods so that fertility may continue to exist within the colony for another four years.

The final walk down the Avenue of Plenty was much more raucous and more overtly raunchy and sexual than had been the long walk along the spider web design of city streets which had brought Olivia to the outer walls of the colony. The time of fertility had now begun for everyone in the city. The crowds were still yelling and still casting honey on her, but many in the crowd were also coupled together, screaming out their passion to her as if the energy of their orgasm could somehow be transferred to her.

Olivia had never fully believed all of the myths which surrounded the sacrifice. She was especially skeptical of the accumulation of sexual energy by The Chosen One. But as she walked down the Avenue of Plenty, she could feel power of some sort filling her. It was the power of pleasure. She could feel herself pulling back against the golden chains. She could hear herself calling out in sexual passion. This was more than just an intense, extended orgasm. This was the raw power of fertility.

Lost in her own pleasure, she didn't realize that they had arrived at the temple until Buleena gently pushed her back over the edge of the Table of Fertility. Buleena and the other five prophetesses climbed onto the table with her. Someone loosened and removed the nipple clamps by which she had been led to this spot. Then with all of the prophetesses chanting one of the sacred songs, they began licking the honey from her body. Olivia gasped in pleasure. Six mouths roamed her body. Her breasts... her clit... her fingers... her toes... every place which could feel pleasure was being subjected to an onslaught of tongues.

Around the Table, many other women and men stood waiting. No one else could mount the table until the prophetesses completed their ritual. Finally, their ritual approached its climax. The six women, now all just as covered in honey as Olivia had once been, rolled off of her to lie on the table alongside her with their legs held widely spread. Again, the prophetesses spoke as one in the voice of the gods as they cried out, "Fill us with the power of fertility!"

Many things happened all at once. Men pushed and shoved to be the first to penetrate one of the prophetesses, or perhaps even The Chosen One herself. Some women knelt to worship the wombs that would receive the offerings of fertility. Other women scrambled up onto the table and mimicked the posture of The Chosen One and her court of prophetesses.

Some women bent over the edge of the table so as to give any man who came up behind them the choice of either opening in which to deposit their seed. Still other women lay on the table on their backs with their heads toward the outer circle of the table so that they could offer their third opening to receive the seed.

Olivia could feel herself being positioned so that all three of her openings were available at the same time. Five times before, she had lain on the table alongside the sacrifice and wondered if it was really different for The Chosen One.

Tonight, she had her answer, "Yes! It was different!"

The sex she experienced as a prophetess was almost unbearably pleasurable. She had thought those nights to have been the most pleasure she could possibly withstand, and yet it was orders of magnitude less than the ecstacy which was now coursing through her body. She was on fire. She was being consumed by pleasure. Her body was becoming light. She was fertility itself.

There was no way for Olivia to know how much time had passed. From the thickness of the layer of cum on her body, she knew that she had received the offerings of thousands of men. And from the changes in the noise around her she thought that morning was perhaps approaching. As she tried to look around, she could feel herself being slid across the shiny- and now slimey- table. Hands lifted her. Soft ropes encircled her. She was being carried outside.

Olivia stared at the sky as it slowly changed from dark black to gray to pale blue. She was definitely outside, and it was dawn. It was time for her final journey to the mouth of the planet.

It seemed to her as if she were floating through the town as she rode, flat on her back, on the fifteen hands of the council members. That is how it had been that morning for Jarleena, the first Chosen, and how it had been for the 237 women and 11 men who had been chosen in the years since. On one side of town, the path they were now taking was called The Avenue of Plenty. It led from the town square out to the fertile fields. The same fields which had enticed the colony to settle here.

On the other side of town... on the other side of the town square... the same road was called The Avenue of Need. At the edge of town, The Avenue of Need became a dusty, rising path which wound its way to the top of the plateau on which the colony ship had landed one thousand years earlier, and through which the ship had descended into oblivion.

As they walked, the council members were chanting the sacred song. Despite years of study by the priests of fertility, its meaning was still unknown. The words- and tune- to the chant were known from the video records of that first night.

If The Chosen One were not a member of council, then the chairperson of council lead the procession through the town and out to the plateau. If The Chosen One were from the council, then a representative of The Chosen One's family would carry the sacred torch, holding it high so everyone in the long procession which followed would be able to see the head of the column. The torch was intentionally made to have a bright, but smoky flame so that it could be easily seen as the night gave way to dawn.

Olivia could feel the rhythmic swaying of the strange bier that bore her to her grave. From the moment she was chosen, she knew that, ultimately, she was chosen to die for the fertility of the planet. Just before this final procession, she had been offered the bitter cup, but refused. She was not afraid. There was no need for drugs to immobilize her so that she did not disgrace herself.

The path was getting steeper. Olivia could feel herself slipping slightly on the hands that held her. The wiggling of fingers working to bring her back to proper position felt strange against her back and legs. It was even slightly erotic as those fingers slipped slightly against and between the flesh of her ass and legs... flesh which was still slippery from her own, and many others', fluids.

The procession stopped. The crowd following began to spread out around the edge of the crater... hole... mouth... created when the colony ship sank. Soon the entire crowd was loudly chanting the sacred song.

Then the signal was given. The torch carried by the leader of the procession was thrown in a high arc into the center of the planet's mouth to illuminate her way. For a brief moment everything became totally silent. Then Olivia felt herself bounce lightly as the crowd shouted out "Brou!" And then, "Droh!" And finally, "Kai!"

On "Kai!" she felt the hands beneath her bounce and then push upward in unison. Suddenly she was flying forward through the air. She felt her body turning so that she was pointed head down. The hole was becoming darker and darker and darker as she continued to fall.

No one knew how deep the hole actually was. After the sinking, some colonists had attempted to climb down to the ship. It was not possible. No light could reach the bottom of the hole. No measuring device could discern the ultimate depth of the shaft. Olivia took a deep breath, waiting for that final instant when she would be crushed against the rocks or ship or whatever made up the bottom of the shaft.

Then she stopped falling.

She didn't hit anything. She was still head down as though falling, but all movement seemed to have stopped.

Hands were once again on her body. The hands were removing her bonds. They were turning her so that she was upright. There was something beneath her feet that felt like soft sand. A small amount of light illuminated the ground beneath her. A soft voice said, "Follow me."

Soon Olivia found herself shielding her eyes as she stepped through a hatch-like door into a brightly lit room. There were several dozen women in the room, all of them naked. One stepped up to her and said, "Welcome to the control room."

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END OF STORY

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This is the end of Sacrifice 250 after my final edit. Originally I had several more sections which gave the sci-fi-technical explanation of the events in the story. I decided to remove these sections for two reasons. One, they aren't at all sexy. And two, they are boring unless you are a sci-fi geek-type person.

However, since many of my readers ARE sci-fi geek-type people, I am including these segments as an epilogue. Read if you want to. Ignore if you want to. But don't judge the story negatively if you think the epilogue sucks. I warned you what it is... and is not. The Technician.

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Epilogue - Disaster Buoy, Colony Seven

273 years following the launch of Colony Ship Seven- more than two centuries after it was assumed lost- a faint signal was detected from its disaster buoy.

A disaster buoy is a message of last resort which is launched automatically if a ship breaks up in space for any reason. It can also be launched manually if a catastrophe overtakes the ship and there is no other way to report back to home planet.

Eight years after the first, faint signals were detected, the buoy was within range of a deep space station and the information it contained was able to be retrieved. What follows is the report carried by that buoy.

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Colony Seven has failed in the worst possible way. This planet cannot support life and we are unable to lift off and relocate to the alternate location.

Only days after planet fall, the colony ship began slowly sinking into the ground. Emergency, 'round-the-clock efforts were able to remove almost all essential materials. Lost with the ship however, were all report rockets, the disaster buoy, various repair and maintenance parts, a significant amount of food supplies, and 73 members of the crew, including myself, Captain Harriet Maazman.

As we descended into the depths of the planet, we each accepted our fate and hoped that our sacrifice had enabled the others to offload sufficient supplies for the colony to be successful.

Then the ship gradually slowed and we quit falling. It was as if we were on some sort of giant elevator, which we later learned was exactly what was occurring. Looking out of the port holes of the ship after we stopped, it was obvious that we were in the center of what appeared to be an artificial planet.

The engineers among us were ecstatic to see a technology that could create or modify or move a planet into that thin orbital distance that supports life. Finding a planet with the necessary metals, minerals, and fluids to support life isn't the hard part of selecting colony planets. It is finding a planet which has all that and is also the proper distance from a proper-sized sun so that life as we know it can exist.

It took a few months to figure out how to gain entrance to the planetary control rooms. Once we were inside it took many more months to be able to read the instruments and understand the manuals and procedures. After a while, we were even able to use the surface monitors, though we had no idea how they truly worked.

We could then see that something was terribly wrong up top. Nothing was growing. We knew that plants aboard the ship were dying off, but attributed that to being in the center of the planet. It was after the crops again refused to grow in the second planting season that the cause of the problem became known to us.

Raoul Tobin, one of the chief engineers, was attempting to figure out what a strange cabinet-like device was in one of the labs. Suddenly he started screaming, "Shit! Scheive! Skat! Skit! Mut! Merde! Bok! ..."

Raoul knew over 194 different words for fecal material, and was known to go through the entire list several times if he was really upset. I got his attention with a loud, "Mister Tobin!" which I followed immediately with an equally loud command, "Report!"

"The word we can't read in the manuals," he began, "the one that talks about the planetary systems." Pointing to the controls on the cabinet, he said, "That is the word and symbol right there." Looking up at me he said excitedly, "And do you know what it does?" He pushed it. "It puts everything in the unit into total stasis. This damn planet is in standby mode."

The words and symbols on the equipment provided the needed keys to the language. Over the next few months more of the manuals were translated. The planet had indeed been placed on standby until the arrival of a colony ship from its creators' home planet. Judging from the dust, corrosion, and other indications of the passage of time, it had been waiting for centuries, if not millennia.

Hand-written notes indicated that an attempt to colonize had been made at some point, but failed because the planet, for some reason, would not come out of stasis. After six years, the remnants of the colony were evacuated to another location and this marvelous piece of technology was abandoned as sterile and uninhabitable.

As time passed, we figured out many other things. One was that objects thrown down into the elevator shaft never crashed into the bottom. They fell the thousands of feet down the hole gaining speed most of the way, but then decelerated and came almost to a stop before drifting slowly to the floor of the control level.

It was in the middle of the fourth season that we came to understand the true purpose of the sensors which were buried beneath the surface of the planet. They were intended to detect life.

But they did more than that. If someone lived or spent a great deal of time directly over one of the sensors, they somehow became linked to the entire sensor network. We were able to talk to them... or more exactly we were able to talk through them. Others could hear our voices come from that person, or if they were alone, they would later remember what was said. Unfortunately, those through whom we first attempted to communicate were adjudged to be suffering from hibernation sickness, so others would hide or ignore our attempts to communicate.

The sensors appeared to be tuned to emotions in some way. When there was significant activity- especially emotional activity- near one of the sensors, it would register on the monitor panels in the control room. Large family gatherings would cause the indicators to rise slightly. Angry arguments would create an even larger rise in readings. Sexual activity- especially a woman's orgasm- would create the highest readings.

In fact, there was one woman, Jarleena, who evidently lived directly over a sensor, and who was known to own an impressive collection of personal sexual aides. Her almost nightly activities often caused the level indicator to change colors from pale blue to bright yellow.

Three weeks ago, one of the engineers was finally able to translate the section of the manual which dealt with the sensor monitor displays. "Yellow means 80% of what it calls 'trigger minimum,'" he explained. "If we could just get her to go even higher, or perhaps to have something else happening around her to elevate the background levels, it should be enough to trigger the planet out of standby mode."

Earlier tonight, the background levels from one sensor- the one directly beneath the government building- began rising dramatically. "That must be one hell of a meeting," I said aloud, "If we could only get someone to orgasm on top of this, we would have the necessary level."

Turning to the engineers in the room, I added, "But even if we can communicate with someone in that room, how do we convince a bunch of government leaders that they have to have an orgy so the planet will come to life? Who is going to believe something that ridiculous and unbelievable. It's not like I can just order them to offer up an orgasm like a sacrifice to the gods."

"It's exactly that," Raoul shouted as he came into the room. "A communication from the gods is the only thing people will believe without proof. We need a believable prophet and we need a sacrifice to the gods. Jarleena could be both at the same time... and she's already there. She is a member of council; she's linked to the entire sensor system; and she's insatiable sexually. We communicate through her and tell them that the gods of the planet demand that they make her cum like she's never cum before so that fertility can be restored. It doesn't have to be real... or true... it only has to work."