The Dance of Liberty

Baseball was the first to go. The rest of the extra-curricular activities followed, until even academics were outlawed. There were no classes, no sport teams, nothing. Except for the churches. Two white buildings that stood at either end to town; one for the girls, the other for the boys.

The churches were not about faith however, they were about our service to the new king. Every Sunday was Bloody Sunday, and we would attend church to pray for our lives and offer sacrifice. If you had no tribute to pay to the royal family, the priest would saw off one of your fingers.

We were cattle, lining up for slaughter. The population of our little Haven was five hundred and twelve, and had been so for the past one hundred and sixty-two years. The king wanted control over everything, including mating. A marriage was to be blessed by his highness, and if the couple were denied, that was that. They would never see each other again. Anytime a child was born, an adult was sacrificed. The population never rose or fell this way. Most sacrificed were elders, the ones who were alive when things were different, when the people had freedom. They were killed off one by one until their memories were lost, and this life was all we knew. A revolution, an uprising against the king? All simple ideas formed in a distant dream, a dream that would never make any sense to anyone. Things were how they were, and soon enough, no one knew any different.

One hundred and sixty-two years, living as slaves to an evil king, helpless to do anything, waiting for our lives to be taken. One hundred and sixty two years, and then she came, and changed it all. This is her story.

The Dance of Liberty

Ayanna sat on the steps of the church, her white sack resting on her trembling thighs. She watched as the men walked by her, carrying sacks of goods over their shoulders and marched with an easy grace. It is much simpler for men, she thought bitterly. They have jobs and a form of education. Women are not permitted to do anything but clean houses during the day when the men were about, and cook at night while they slept. Women did not even live with these men, but it was their duties to care for them. Women were slaves for men, leaving meals on their doorsteps or windowsills, but never meeting the stronger sex until the night of ones binding.

Ayanna had no one to teach her to cook. She did not know her father, and her mother was taken when Ayanna was only in her seventh season. Her food was tasteless, but did the job. To make it sweeter, she sprinkled honeydew from the flowers she found in the woods.

She had not found any of those flowers today.

"You are early, child."

Ayanna looked up to see a tall male figure hovering above her. "Yes priest, I was hoping to talk to you." She shouldered her tribute bag and rose to her feet, aware of the priest watching her movements intently.

"You know it is forbidden for a young woman to speak privately with a man she is not bound to, Ayanna."

"Yes priest, but please? We are outside, in public, anyone can see plain as day we are doing nothing wrong. And I'm afraid this is an important matter."

The priest stands silently for a moment, watching her. He can see her pulse thumping in her pale throat, a bead of nervous sweat dripping down in to her glorious cleavage. For such a young girl, her body is well developed. Her dress cloth is too short and too tight, just on the north side of scandalous. It had fit perfectly two years ago. He doubts she has the means to buy another one. Oh but what he would not give to feel her moving beneath him.

"Proceed," he nods.

"Lord, thank you." She takes a deep breath to calm her quivering. "It has been a dreadfully busy week. The number of women in the community has fallen noticeably, and of course, I understand that men are more important to the society. I am not one to complain. However, I have been forced to cook for several more houses than usual, and I am completely out of supplies. The men do not pay as generously as they used to either, and therefore I myself have been cutting my rations. I am starving, priest." He looks on her stunning young face with pity and regret, seeing the obvious evidence of the truth in her words, but saying nothing. "I am afraid that, as a result, my tribute today is less than...What would normally be acceptable." Ayanna looks down at her naked feet. They are covered in dirt and cuts from sharp rocks and thorns. She has grown out of her slippers and donated her sandals to an orphan child long ago.

"What is your tribute today, Ayanna?"

"...A slice of unsweetened bread, priest."

"Then, I am afraid; all hope for you is lost." He moves to pass her, but Ayanna puts a fragile hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I'll do anything." Ayanna cannot remember the last time she cried, and though she feels utter despair, even the near possibility of losing her finger will not bring her to tears. She thanks the lord for granting her strength.

"If you had a husband, he could take the punishment for you." The priest desperately suggests.

"There is not time to find a husband and be granted a marriage before the service. Priest, I need my fingers to cook and clean for the men! Is there nothing you could do?"

"I will try my best to find a solution for you, Ayanna." The priest steps behind her and opens the church doors. "Now wait here until the others come, and then take you seat like a good little girl." With a comforting pat on her shoulder, he enters the church and leavers her to her fate.

Some time passes while Ayanna waits for the service to begin, and finally, fate comes along.

He was whistling, walking somewhat joyfully towards the males' church with a heave sack thrown over his shoulder. The man stops walking when he spots her, his playful whistling ending.

"Are you not late to church, sir?" Ayanna asks, puzzled by his carefree attitude.

The man gives a curt nod. "Yes, I suppose I am." His voice is deep and rough and it rubs against her bones in the oddest way. He is beautiful; a tall blond gift from the gods.

"Are you not afraid of your punishment?"

"No, I suppose I am not." He looks on at her with a quizzical brow. Ayanna shivers in fear for the man, and his dark green eyes darken still at the gesture. "Perhaps I should be afraid." He says, as if he could read her mind.

"Perhaps you should, sir."

"I could be killed for my tardiness." The man states simply. Ayanna nods enthusiastically, willing him to have more care.

"Will you make my death worthwhile, little girl?" He moves towards her slowly, taking on the persona of a predator.

However, Ayanna does not know his intent, so she is not afraid in the least. She stands her ground and stares into his moss green eyes. "How would I do that?"

The man stops. "What's your name sweetheart?"

"Ayanna," she replies politely. "What's yours?"

"That's beautiful, a beautiful name. But you are so young, how about a simple kiss to ease my dawning pain?" He leans forwards slightly, giving her a choice.

"It is illegal..." She argues.

"Yes, sweetheart. It is." A wolfish smile spreads across his rough, sun kissed face, causing him to look even more attractive to her.

"I shall make you a deal," she boldly ventures.

The man straightens, standing tall and looming over her slender frame. "What kind of deal?"

"I need a tribute for the service tonight." All of the gentle playfulness disappears from his face at her words. Now that he knows she is in dire need, and his light heart feels loaded. "Seeing as you are to be put to death already anyway, you won't need your fingers as much as I will need mine."

"It would appear that way, yes." His voice is guarded; his eyes are cold.

"Then I request a trade." Ayanna straightens her spine and adapts a determined expression. "One kiss for one tribute."

"An interesting bargain. Do you truly believe that your kisses are worth my tribute?" The wolfish smile returns.

Ayanna blushes and ducks her head, breaking the powerful pull that his eyes had on her. "No..." She stutters. "I would not presume to..."

"I accept. Follow me, sweetheart." The man grabs Ayanna's wrists and gently pulls her behind him to a small shed behind the church.

"Why are we back here? It is not allowed." Fear begins to settle in her stomach as the man looks at her with a confusing expression.

"Hush, Ayanna, nothing we are doing is allowed. But we made a deal, you and me." After a brief pause, Ayanna nods and steps in to his waiting arms. The contact of his warm body against hers makes her shiver delightfully. He lifts a large, calloused hand and brushes stray strands of her mud-caked hair away from her eyes. She has the most beautiful eyes, a blue that could awaken you

very soul.

"Close your eyes sweetheart." She does, so trustingly, and so he kisses each eyelid softly, holding her closer before stepping away. A small noise of protest passes her slightly parted lips at the loss of his body, but she does not open her eyes. He kneels down in front of her and pulls the hem of her short dress cloth up to her round hips.

"No!" She shouts, stepping away from him. She frantically tugs at her dress cloth to hide her naked shame.

"You promised me a kiss." He laughs; a low rumble deep in his chest. He does not move from his kneeling position.

"A kiss on my lips!" Ayanna taps her mouth twice, to be perfectly clear.

"Ah, but sweetheart, you did not specify." He stands and goes to her, gripping her boney hips in his hands hard enough to bruise, so that she knows not to move. He does not mean to scare her, but his lust has gained control over him now.

After seeing her untouched sex, after being so close, he needs to taste her. "And these are the lips that I wish to kiss." He moves one hand over and cups her through the thin material, causing her to gasp, whether in pleasure or shock he cannot be sure.

"I cannot...This is wrong." She shakes her head, causing curls to fall in front of her doll-like face. Ayanna places her palms against his chest and pushes against him gently. "Please, I'm sorry." So polite. So young. He is so ready.

"It's too late for that now, I have already touched you." He flexes his fingers against her young sex, then bends his face down to meet hers and captures those plump lips with his own. She struggles against him and takes a step back, but his grip on her hips keeps her from moving and she almost tumbles over. He pulls her back to him to help her maintain her balance, her back arches and her hips thrust forward in her struggles, causing her vagina to rub against his pulsing groin. She gasps at the feel of his erection pressing against her, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue in to her mouth and deepen their kiss.

Heat floods through her, a flush creeps up between her full breasts. All thoughts of resistance leave her as she brazenly leans in to his kiss, his warmth...his sex. It presses relentlessly against her stomach, nurturing a gnawing curiosity within her.

His mouth moves against hers, his hands search

her body, touching and feeling her face, her hair, her neck, her bottom. He grabs her there, squeezes, and pushes her harder in to him. He moans in to her mouth before stepping back once again.

"I have touched you..." He says breathlessly. "And now I have tasted you." He kneels down in front of her again, putting his hands back on her hips, but with a looser hold. "A woman is put on this earth with the sole purpose of pleasing a man, Ayanna. It would displease me if you left now, and God would be disappointed in you for leaving me...wanting." He locks gazes with her, noting her pink stained cheeks and the wild look in her ocean blue eyes. She mulls over his logic for a moment, considering her options. If she were to refuse him now, God would be angry with her for neglecting her duties as a woman. Moreover, although she is not supposed to be touched by a man until the night of her binding, she needs God on her side now more than ever. If she leaves now, she will not be granted a tribute, and the priest will have to take one of her fingers...Or worse.

"You swear to give me a tribute?"

He nods, not daring to speak for the fear of changing her mind.

"Just don't put anything...inside of me." She begs solemnly.

"Close your eyes," he instructs once more.

He nestles closer to her and parts her swollen pussy lips with his fingers, leaning in to blow cool air and erect her little pleasure nub. Ayanna bites down on her bottom lip to keep from moaning as his breath causes tingling sensations to rock her body. Suddenly his tongue flashes out and encounters her heat, his teeth graze against her in the most delicious ways. Soon enough she finds herself grinding her wetness in to the face, tangling her fingers in his tasselled hair to pull him even closer to her. She lets out a moan, and the sound goes right to his penis.

"I am so hard for you, my sweet Ayanna. You taste so good." Another lick, a playful bite. She gasps and moans again, clenching her small fists in his hair. She is so close, riding on a wave of fire as her blood begins to boil in her veins. Her knees trembling and the man gently lowers her to the dirt covered ground. He moves his hands down her sides to her knees and lifts them slightly, then circles to the insides of her thighs to push them further apart. He sits back from her for a moment, looking down at her glistening folds. Soft dark curls rest atop her treasure, but with her legs spread this way, he can see her clitoris perfectly. Her arousal is as obvious as his own, pressing against his breaches uncomfortably.

He bends his head down and nuzzles her creamy white thigh, placing delicate kisses on the insides, close to her beautiful curls. He trails those kisses all the way up to her nub as she stirs beneath him.

"Oh my...God." She moans. He digs his fingers into her soft flesh and she bucks against him...Then, she stills.

Voices flood her ears, nervous chatter of women on their way to the service, bringing her back to reality.

"Stop." She urges him quietly, using all her will. For a moment, he is confused by her abrupt change from moaning beneath him to pushing him away. Then, he too hears the voices. But damn, she was so close!

"Get off of me." Ayanna demands with a bitter tongue.

"What happened to the sweet little girl I met just moments before? She was so polite." He complains as her manoeuvres off her and pulls her dress down, regretfully.

"You've compromised her." The anger is clear on her face, but what gives him pause is the shame evident in her eyes.

"Pity." He stands and offers a hand to lift her up, which she ignores. "You're not compromised sweetheart; your virginity is still...intact. Plus, my dear, you did not reach completion. No one will be the wiser." The man winks at her and smiles, the smile of a wolf.

"I will know..."

"Yes, you will know." He steps towards her menacingly and takes her trembling hand in his, bringing it down to rest against the large bulge in the front of his breaches. "And if you stick around I shall teach you more."

Ayanna tries to pull her hand away, but his grip is tight. She shakes her head, "I'd rather stay ignorant." She lies.

He pulls her to him, turns them around, backing her up against the wall so that she is pinned, their bodies touching chest to chest..., and lower. He rubs himself suggestively against her, breathing heavily as he tries to regain his control. "Pity," he says again, before releasing her.

She scrambles away from him, turning to see him place both hands against the damp wall. He suddenly looks very tired.

"Take it." She knows he is talking about the tribute, but now it seems wrong somehow. "Take it and leave, or wish you had." His voice is low, quiet to the point where she almost cannot hear it, but the meaning behind his words is obvious enough. She picks up the bag and looks inside.

"What is it?" She mumbles under her breath.

"Go!" He growls.

Ayanna runs out of the shed, looking behind her only once to see him reaching in to the front of his breaches and holding himself firmly. The muscles in his large arm tense as his wrist moves, and as he strokes himself...he says her name.

He watched her come in. She was late, by mere seconds. Her cheeks were stained pink and her lips were swollen, her hair a mess atop her head. Dirt smudged all over her body, frail limbs shaking slightly as she walked....And yet she was beautiful. Something about her made him feel like a man again.

She sat in the back of the church with the older women, the ones too fragile to bother walking to the empty pews at the front. The older women who did nothing but consume valuable oxygen better suited to the soldiers of the royal army. So many men were falling in the war with Charming, the country to the east that was becoming greedy with power. Charming is ruled by an evil king, who buried his soul the night he murdered his wife and daughter as a sacrifice to the Gods for True Power. And the old women did not have the decency to walk to the alter of his father and lay a wreath. How difficult could it be, to show their respect while he and his men fought for their very lives? Worthless, they are all worthless. But not her.

No, she sat back there for another reason. One he did not know. He could feel her spirit though, pure but slightly tinted. With what, he could not tell. He sat there in the shadows and watched her pray throughout the entire service. And now she is being summoned to offer her tribute.

"Ayanna, dear girl, what do you have to offer his highness today?" The Priest asked her, a slight tinge of worry in his grainy voice.

The girl, Ayanna, stretches out her arms and offers the priest a white sack, as costumed. He reaches in and pulls out...

There are collective gasps within the church, all of the women and the priest himself shocked at her audacity.

"What is it?" The girl asks, looking around with wide eyes.

"Where did you find this?" The Priest raises the round object above his head, showing the whole church exactly what "this" was.

It is obvious to him that the girl is trying to figure out a lie to tell. She clenches her fists at her sides and digs her fingernails in to her palms. Little welts appear when she uncurls her fingers, and he can see the blood begin to spill from the surface of her skin. What is more, he can smell it.

"A boy gave it to me." Ayanna whispers and it is so horrible that it must be the truth.

"Then he has sealed your fate child. Do you know what this is?" She shakes her head, no. "A baseball, Ayanna. It is illegal to have one of these."

"But it is not mine!" She shouts, growing frantic. "It doesn't belong to me."

The Priest drops the baseball and grabs the girl roughly by her shoulders, dragging her in to his body.

*A waste, such a waste. She would feel so good. So soft.*

Far closer than necessary...

He forces her down on the alter, bent so that her knees hit the marble floor with a loud crack, her breasts grazing the holy ground. She does not cry, does not struggle, and only winces at the pain as the priest forces her lower. He opens his robe to take out the ceremonial knife, its jagged blade gleaming in the setting sun.

"Ayanna, you have disobeyed his highness, the royal King, and displeased the Gods. The sentence for your offence is death." And he brings the blade down.