Belinda Barnotti, known to her friends as BB, stood at the entrance to the Witch Hill Nunnery Museum silently debating with herself. She was almost a Doctor of Anthropology. All that was left for her to gain her PhD was to complete her thesis. Then she had to make a name for herself by turning that thesis into a book. That would make her a well-known anthropologist. Well-known anthropologists get teaching jobs in prestigious universities. Unknown anthropologists end up in the basement of a museum cataloging things that no one will ever see.
What had BB stopped at the entrance to the Nunnery was her knowledge that becoming well-known for something scandalous was even worse than being unknown. If her name was tainted by scandal, she wouldn’t even be considered by any university... and she wouldn’t be able to get into a museum even if she bought a ticket on Sunday afternoon. What had brought her to this Witch Hill Halloween party could either make her famous... or infamous.
The topic of her thesis was “Mediaeval Torture Devices - Fact and Fiction.” For the past two years, she had been all over England, France, Italy, Germany, and anywhere else that claimed to have torture devices from that period. She had deduced that many of the devices were outright fakes; that some were real, but too horrible for most people to even read about; and that others were... boring. Being walled-up in a small room and fed through a slot in the wall was horrible, but it was not at all exciting. She needed to find something that was real, would make a good cover image for her book, and would put her on the morning television shows that university presidents and board members regularly watched.
She was in the basement laundry room of her apartment building dreading having to consign herself to a life in some museum’s basement when Sophia, a neighbor, said, “I hear you are interested in old torture devices. You really need to go to the old nunnery on Witch Hill and see their Copper Lady.”
“I’ve seen just about every iron lady in England and everywhere else,” she replied, “and they are all fake. They were built years after the major periods of torture to sell to gullible nobles or to entice the poor folk to give up a penny to view them in a traveling museum of torture.”
“But this isn’t an iron lady,” Sophia said, “it’s a Copper Lady, and it’s the real thing. It’s been hanging in the nunnery bell tower almost since it was built. If you go to the Halloween party you can even see it in action. I’ll get you an offer to buy an invitation.”
BB chuckled at the fact that evidently you had to be invited to buy an invitation.
There were no nuns left at Witch Hill Abbey. The nunnery, as many early churches, had been built to overlay a pagan place of worship. Now it was a museum, and the site of one of the largest... and most expensive... Halloween parties in England.
The museum was there because when the nunnery closed, the aged Abbess deeded everything over to the village. Although there were almost no nuns left, there were all sorts of important historical items and books left in the church and living quarters. The church and cloister were themselves buildings of great historical interest, so the village got all sorts of grants to start the museum.
The Halloween Party was there because it is very expensive to maintain buildings which were originally built twelve hundred years ago. The nunnery land which was rented out to local farmers, provided a steady income. Certain wealthy patrons helped out occasionally. The board which ran the museum even rented out some of the cloister rooms to tourists. But all of that fell short of the needed funds. The yearly Halloween Party brought in a significant amount of money which always made up the shortfall and even provided surplus to save for future needs.
Because the Halloween Party brought in so much needed cash, the museum allowed the party to get rather raucous and risque. To protect the artifacts, the party wasn’t held in the museum itself, but rather in the large courtyard of the old church. One of the big attractions of the nunnery was the elaborate mechanism which rang the church bells on the hour and quarter hours and then provided a long cascade of all the bells at midnight. No one knew who had built the complex mechanism which rang the bells or why it had been so designed. It was silent from midnight until six in the morning. Then it rang properly until ten at night when it again went silent except for the cascade at midnight. Midnight was the only point at which all of the bells in the tower swung and rang automatically rather than just being tolled by a large hammer on the outside of the bell. And midnight was the only time that the Copper Lady swung alongside the great bells in the tower. For some reason, which no one who studied that mechanism could understand, that cascade of all the bells would continue on Halloween until it was time for the quarter hour chime. That higher-pitched bell tolled once and then the bells would go silent. A local man, a gravelly-voiced farmer who acted as “Keeper of the Bells,” came to the museum each Saturday to wind the massive spring and weight mechanism which powered the hourly chines. He also did routine, and sometimes not-so-routine maintenance on the mechanism as his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father, had done for many years before him.
It all sounded like a story out of a Gothic novel, but often such myths and stories are based on a sliver of reality that might be... just might be... the thing which Belinda needed for her thesis... and book.
BB steeled herself and lifted the large iron ring that acted as a door knocker on the outer gate of the nunnery. The thud of the iron striking the door’s knocker plate seemed to reverberate through the night air. The speculatorium, the small hatchway with a woven iron cover, opened and a pair of eyes glared out at her.
“Do you have an invitation?” a gruff voice asked.
BB held up the stiff invitation that had cost her more than twice her monthly rent, which according to Sophia was a great discount. “This had better be worth it,” she thought to herself as the door swung slowly inward. Its ancient iron hinges creaked and squealed as the door opened.
BB wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but a couple hundred very scantily clad men and women wasn’t number one on her list. Everyone seemed to be wearing very short black robes that barely covered their bodies and roughly-made sandals that looked like they belonged in the museum. The women’s robes had a deep V in the neckline which went well below the normal cleavage area for most of the women. Sophia had told BB that the party started a little after three, but it didn’t really get going until several hours later.
“Wear something witchy,” Sophia advised, so she was wearing a long black robe and a pointed hat. She knew both were not what any of the wise women of the Middle Ages wore, but it was what was expected at Halloween parties– well, at most Halloween parties. At this party she definitely stood out.
She had decided to arrive around seven. The bells had just finished tolling the hour as she walked into the courtyard. She noticed that a young woman... a naked young woman... was being led out of the doorway to the bell tower. The young woman was weaving slightly and having trouble standing.
“Bring her to the altar,” someone called out and the young woman was led to a large, flat-topped boulder in the center of the courtyard. The way that the stone continued into the ground made it obvious that this boulder was just the tip of the iceberg of a much more massive rock buried deep within the earth. The two men and two women who were leading her were dressed in black jeans, black shirts, and black shoes.
“Well,” BB thought to herself, “at least I’m not the only one who stands out in the crowd.”
“First, she deserves pleasure,” the gruff-voiced man said loudly. BB startled slightly as she realized that this man was holding a thick black staff and was wearing a long, hooded, black robe made of some much thicker material than the short robes which everyone else seemed to be wearing. Her mouth opened in amazement when she realized that his robe was historically accurate for someone who oversaw torture ordered by the king or queen.
The two couples dressed in black laid the young woman back over the stone. There were four ropes tied to iron stakes which had been driven into the ground at four points around the very ancient altar. And this was truly an ancient altar. BB had, for a while, thought of doing her thesis on pagan worship and witchcraft and had done a lot of study. This was definitely a pagan altar upon which the young woman was being bound.
The two couples tightly tied the young woman’s arms and legs with the four ropes. Her arms were tied very tightly, but there was some slack in the leg ropes.
Seven women, ranging in age from just barely legal to just barely walking stepped over to stand in line between the young woman’s wide-spread legs. They were all wearing the very short black robes... and nothing else. The oldest woman, almost crone looking, dropped her robe and knelt naked at the stone. She said something in Old English that BB couldn’t quite catch and then leaned forward to nuzzle the young woman’s cunt. Seven times she moved her mouth and tongue up and down the young woman’s slit before rising, putting her robe back on and standing toward the side facing the altar.
“One,” she croaked out in a voice that proclaimed her advanced age.
The next woman in line dropped her robe and knelt between the captive offering’s legs. She, too, lapped and nuzzled her way up and down the young woman’s cunt seven times. Then she put her robe back on and stood next to the old crone.
“Two,” she said loudly. Her voice didn’t crack like the old crone’s, but it was definitely the voice of an old woman.
BB tried to keep her mouth closed and the look of amazement off of her face as woman after woman in the line knelt and nuzzled at the offering’s cunt. BB’s mouth was now hanging wide open in amazement as she realized that this was a sacrificial offering of some sort. The woman on the altar, meanwhile, was squirming and moaning and pulling against the ropes which held her on the flat-topped rock. Finally the youngest of the seven was standing with the rest forming part of a circle which went not quite half way around the stone altar.
“Seven,” she chirped in a happy voice of youth. Then all seven of the women said something in Old English that BB could not quite understand, but it somehow sounded familiar.
The man in the black robe with the very gruff voice again stood next to the altar. He lifted his staff slightly into the air and said forcefully, “Second, she must give pleasure.”
Another line formed. This time they were all males. But they again ranged in age from extremely elderly to just reaching university age. Again the first was the eldest. As he centered himself between the offering’s legs, he had to pump his manhood with his hand several times to make it fully stiff. Then he leaned forward with his hands on the altar just outside the offering’s breasts.
He forced himself into her very wet cunt and began pumping slowly. On his sixth stroke he shuddered as if he had perhaps climaxed and ejaculated. He pumped one more time and then stood up.
“One,” he said in a somewhat shaky voice as he put his robe back on and joined the women standing around the altar.
The next man in line dropped his robe and leaned over the altar. He easily penetrated the offering’s cunt and slowly pumped seven times. Then he stood up and said, “Two.”
So it went through the line of men. Each pumped seven times. The gruff-voiced man had to pound his staff heavily on the ground next to the altar and order, “Only seven!” when the youngest man started to continue pumping. His prick was stiff and quivering as he stood back up.
“You will learn control before the high offering,” the gruff voice said as the young man pulled his short robe over his head. Then the man with the staff said gruffly, “Now she must receive pain and give pleasure.”
The two couples came forward and untied the ropes from the young woman on the rock. They then rolled her over onto her stomach. The offering seemed to barely know what was happening to her, but she also seemed willing to help the couples roll her over.
Once she was in place, the gruff-voiced man called out, “Prepare her!” and two women in very short black robes ran forward with a small bucket. One of them dipped her hand in the bucket and pulled out a glob of a white, fatty, greasy substance. She then began working that slime into the offering’s nether hole.
After a few minutes, the woman on the altar was starting to moan slightly. The woman who had been applying the grease now had four fingers of her hand sliding in and out of the offering’s ass. The woman removed her hand from the offering’s ass and called out loudly, “She is ready!”
A new line formed. This time it was a mix of men and women. The first in line was a man, then two women, then a man, then two more women, and finally another man.
When the first man leaned over the altar and centered his prick on the offering’s rosebud, she gasped and uttered a short squeal of pain. Then she began to moan softly as the man pushed in and out seven times.
The two women both had strapons under their short robes. Or to be more exact, the straps were under their robes, but the long phallic rubber prick held up the front hem of the robe and bobbed obscenely as they stood waiting in line. There was another gasp of pain as the first woman leaned over the altar and impaled the offering. Both were moaning slightly by the time she got to seven.
The moans of the offering got more and more intense as the seven assailed her ass. She was pulling against the robes and muttering, “Yes, yes, yes,” by the time the sixth, a woman, finished. The gruff-voiced leader said firmly, “Wait!” as the seventh, a man, approached the altar.
The man stood there rather calmly stroking his prick until the leader called out, “Continue!” and he positioned himself properly between the offering’s legs. She was crying slightly as the man finished his seven strokes. But it wasn’t from pain. It was because she had come so close, and then wasn’t allowed to orgasm.
After the last man had finished and joined the circle around the altar, the leader lifted his hands into the air and said something in old English. BB shook her head as she realized why she hadn’t been able to understand anything. It wasn’t old English. It was old Scottish Gaelic. He said, “faigh an tabhartas so,” which means, “receive this offering.”
The twenty-one people in short robes raised their hands into the air and called out in unison, “faigh an tabhartas so.” Then the leader said, “Position her.”
The four in black, modern dress ran forward and quickly untied the offering. Then they led her, supporting and almost dragging her, over to a stairway which went up to the second story balcony which surrounded the courtyard. As BB watched the two couples lead the naked offering to the steps, she realized for the first time that the courtyard was not round as she had first thought. Instead it had seven walls which made it appear at first to be a circle. The walls continued well up past the narrow balcony, and in the center of each wall was a vaulted opening with a stone bench beneath it.
BB gasped once again as she realized that in the center of three of those open arches a naked young woman was tied spread-eagled with her feet resting on the bottom of the opening. All three were facing inward and all three seemed to be staring down into the courtyard with an intense look of longing on their faces.
The four led the offering to the first arched opening that was not occupied, and stood her facing inward against the bench in front of the opening. After ropes were looped through bolts or something near the top of the arch, and secured to the offering’s wrists, the two women lifted the naked offering up onto the bench while the two men pulled on the ropes. After she was stable on the bench, she was again lifted slightly while the two women in black stood alongside her on the bench. She was now standing in the center of the opening with her arms stretched tightly into a Y above her body.
After the two men secured the ropes in some fashion, they tied ropes to the offering’s ankles and pulled them widely apart. This dropped her body slightly and increased the tightness of her arms. In just a few moments she was tied in a naked X like the other three young women.
When the two couples returned to the courtyard, the gruff-voiced leader said firmly, “It is time to select the next.”
All conversation ceased. A serving cart with rather large wheels clinked out to the center of the courtyard pushed by the two women in black jeans. It was filled with small glasses which held slightly more than a large swallow of some light amber liquid. The two couples began to quickly distribute the glasses to everyone present using small trays that held a dozen or so glasses. After only a few had been distributed, the leader said firmly, “Wait!” and the three or four who had started to raise the glass to their mouths suddenly lowered their glasses and held their hands at their waist.
When BB received her glass she sniffed it slightly before holding it at her waist. It smelled like wine mixed with honey. Her mind automatically raced trying to remember where she had smelled this before or perhaps read of such a smell. Then she said aloud, “Honeymead. It’s honeymead.”
After everyone had received their glass of honeymead, The leader called out in his gruff voice, “Raise!” and everyone raised their glass to eye level. At the call of “Drink!” everyone downed the small glass of honeymead.
Almost immediately, one of the young women said in a rather slurred voice, “It’s me.” Then she pulled her robe over her head and stepped out of her sandals. The two couples dressed in modern black walked over to her. The two women looked deeply into the young woman’s eyes before saying, “Yes, she is the one who is chosen.” Then the two men steadied the young woman as they led her over to the bell tower.
A voice alongside BB whispered, “Do you want to see the Copper Lady?”
BB turned to see the face of Sophia, her friend who had arranged the invitation.
“It’s why I came, isn’t it?” she said and Sophia began to lead her up the steps of the bell tower.
The tower was tall. BB glanced out the windows as they wound their way to the bell platform. She was surprised at the number of bells in this tower. But she was more amazed at the large copper object that hung among the bells. It was shaped vaguely like one of the bells, but it was much flatter. The two men were opening latches on the sides and top of the device. Inside was a rounded ridge with a single post sticking up from it. There were the customary large nails expected in an iron lady, but these nails were not iron, and they were not sharp-pointed. Instead they were blunt and rounded. As the men lifted the naked young woman, she brushed against one of the copper nails. It retracted back slightly. Evidently these blunt nails were spring loaded in some fashion so they could press against your body without causing harm.
“Hurry, it is nearly the quarter,” one of the women said and one of the men replied, “Got it. Ready to close.”
The two men rapidly closed the latches on the Copper Lady and the two couples hurried down the bell tower steps while BB’s friend almost yelled, “Put your hands over your ears and open your mouth!”
BB did so and almost immediately one of the bells tolled. It was a single strike, but the entire bell platform vibrated with the sound. After the initial blast of sound, BB’s friend pointed to the Copper Lady and both of them watched as the copper obviously vibrated with the sound of the bell.
“Torture by pleasure?” BB wondered aloud and Sophia replied, “The only torture is when they put you up in the windows. You hang there stopped on the edge and kept on the edge.”
BB turned and started to descend the spiral staircase. “Wait,” Sophia said quickly. “Look out the windows from the top here.”
BB went back up the few steps she had taken and looked out the window where Sophia was standing. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed aloud as she looked down on the brick paths which led to the center of each of the seven walls. “That’s a heptagram,” she said excitedly.
“We prefer to call it a Fairy Star,” Sophia replied quietly.
“How long has that been there?” BB asked quickly.
“Since before the nunnery was built,” Sophia answered. “And it was dirt paths before the bricks were laid in place.”
“A Fairy Star around a rock altar,” BB said softly to herself.
“It’s time for us to go down to the party,” Sophia replied as she pulled BB toward the spiral staircase.
Down in the courtyard things appeared to be almost a normal party, if you ignored the four naked women in the openings above you, and if you ignored the fact that a fifth naked woman was held inside a Copper Lady hanging with the bells in the tower. There were drinks and snacks and people making out... or making love... in the shadows. There was even a really crappy band attempting to play over in front of the side doors which went into the church itself. The large, almost tunnel-like opening in the thick walls made a good bandstand and reflected the sound of the band out into the courtyard without the need for overly-powerful amplifiers.
Somehow the band... and everyone else... knew when it was time for the bells to sound the half-hour. The music... and all conversation... stopped even before the bells began to toll. The short “Bong, bong, bong, bong... bong, bong, bong, bong,” was a traditional sound for a half-hour in a complex clock, but everyone knew that the next offering was experiencing the bells in a completely different way. The band... and the crowd... also went silent in anticipation of the single “Bong,” that marked the three-quarter hour.
As the hour approached, the band took a break and left the stage. Everyone in the crowd, including BB, stood silently staring up at the tower waiting for the more complex tolling of the bells which would mark the hour. The crowd took a deep intake of breath in unison as the first “Bong” of that hourly music began. BB held her breath until the short pause before the actual tolling of the hour. It was eight o’clock so there would be eight tolls of the giant bell which was located right next to the Copper Lady.
The heavy “Bong... bong... bong... bong... bong... bong... bong... bong...” vibrated the bodies of everyone in the courtyard. Sophia leaned in close to her in the silence that followed and said, “Just imagine what that feels like encased in the Copper Lady hanging right next to it.”
BB had no trouble imagining that. She also had no trouble feeling the flood of fluids that was overflowing her panties and running down the insides of her legs. There was so much fluid that it was probably staining the back of her robes. “Well,” she thought to herself, “it is black. No one will notice a little juice stain on the back.”
A gruff voice brought her back to the party around her. “Bring the offering down,” the man in the long black robe said as he thumped his long staff on the ground seven times.
The two couples dressed in modern, black clothes hurried into the tower. A few moments later they returned. The naked young woman was stumbling slightly as they guided her to the flat-topped rock in the center of the courtyard.
“An altar of natural rock in the center of a Fairy Star,” BB thought to herself. “This is a fertility offering to the earth and sky at the time when the veil between this world and the next is at its thinnest.”
“Exactly,” Sophia’s voice said softly in her ear. Had she said what she thought aloud, or did Sophia hear what she was thinking.
The crowd was silent as the offering was tied to the altar. The same nine women nuzzled and lapped seven times between her legs. The same nine men pumped seven times into her cunt. The same three men and four women buggered her as she moaned or screamed beneath them. Then she was led up the steps to the balcony and tied in the fifth vaulted opening in the high wall.
The strange serving cart with the oversized wheels came rumbling out into the courtyard. Once again it was time to choose the offering. The trays with the small glasses of honeymead were distributed and everyone stood waiting for the order to drink. Finally the leader said, “Drink!” and everyone downed their glass of honeymead.
BB, like everyone else, stood looking around trying to see who had been chosen. “It’s me,” said a tall, willowy blond as she grabbed the woman next to her in an attempt to stay on her feet. Somehow she managed to remove everything that she was wearing and step out of her sandals before the two couples in modern black arrived. The two women looked deeply into the chosen offering’s eyes and then declared, “Yes, she is the one who is chosen.” The two men once again steadied the chosen offering as they walked the naked woman over to the bell tower.
“She will experience the nine o’clock sounding of the bells,” Sophia said quietly. “And the quarter-hours and half-hour as well,” BB replied. Then they both smiled at each other.
At nine o’clock the new offering was brought down from the tower. BB found herself flowing even more copiously as she watched the preparation of the offering. When the honeymead chose the ten o’clock offering and she was led naked up into the bell tower, BB found herself wondering if it was totally by chance or if the person with the honeymead cart somehow made the choice. She carefully recalled how the honeymead was distributed and came to the conclusion that it had to be totally by chance. Everyone chose their own glass from the tray. Only random chance chose the next offering.
When the ten o’clock offering was brought down from the tower and was nuzzled, fucked, buggered, and finally in place in a vaulted opening as the seventh offering, it was time to choose the midnight offering. At the command of “Drink!” BB tossed the honeymead down her throat. Her first thought was, “I really have to buy some of this so I can sip it properly.” Her second thought was, “Something is weird.” She felt both hot and cold at the same time... and weak... very weak. She turned to Sophia and said in a shocked, slurred voice, “It’s me? Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Sophia replied softly, “it always was.”
The two women came to stare into BB’s eyes before saying, “Yes, she is the one who is chosen.”
BB knew it was her own hands who threw her witch’s hat to the ground. It was her own hands which pulled the long witch’s robe from her body. It was even her own hands that removed her light pink brassiere. But it was as if it was not her mind controlling her hands. She tried to stop herself as her hands slid into the side of her panties and began pushing them toward the ground, but whatever force was controlling her hands was more powerful than she was.
She took a deep breath and attempted to resign herself to whatever was to come as she stepped out of her shoes and walked naked with the two men and two women toward the tower steps. They climbed the steps very very slowly, or perhaps everything merely seemed to have slowed down in BB’s mind. When they got to the top, the two women held her steady while the two men opened the Copper Lady and set a wide platform under it that bridged across the opening beneath the bells.
One of the men nodded and the women brought BB over to the now open Copper Lady. The two men picked her up and positioned her within the copper shell. Then each of them reached down and pulled at a latch of some sort at the base of the device. The two copper pieces which had been supporting BB’s legs suddenly dropped. Like everything else in the Copper Lady, they were spring-loaded. Her weight pushed down the springs and as she descended, she felt something cold push against her slit. The shape of the Copper Lady already had her legs wide open and her cunt gaping so the copper phallus slid easily inside her.
Her arms were then raised above her head. “Grip the bar,” one of the men said. When she did, they wrapped thin layers of leather around her hands until they were bound to the bar. With her hands above her head, her breasts were pulled up slightly.
As the men began to close the Copper Lady, one of them said something very strange... at least it was strange to BB. He said, “You will help return what is ours.”
BB was trying to figure out what that might mean as the copper shell closed around her. She shivered slightly as the hundreds of spring-loaded copper pseudo-nails pressed against her flesh. She thought about what would happen to her when the bells began ringing. At first that thought caused her fluids to gush around the copper phallus. Then she said aloud, “But that will be two hours from now!”
She struggled briefly just to see how firmly she was bound, but she discovered that her hands were firmly bound and her legs were trapped in the channels designed into the Copper Lady. And even if she could free her arms or her legs, she was still inside a brass shell. A line from her thesis came to mind and she said it aloud, “For many unfortunates, the true torture is not what is done to them, but the incontrovertible knowledge that it is going to occur.”
She was like a person lying on a rack waiting for that first click of the pawl as the ropes tightened or someone on display in a cage being drawn through the town before being burned as a witch or heretic or whatever. She had two hours in the darkness inside the Copper Lady to contemplate what would happen at midnight. She wouldn’t even have the bells on the quarter hours to stimulate her.
“I will cheat them,” she said grimly. “I will take control,” she said as she began rocking her pelvis on the copper which supported her. After a few minutes... or was it many minutes... she groaned in frustration. The Copper Lady had been designed very well. Although she could rock and create some sensations within herself and at the entrance to her cunt, she couldn’t create any sensations on her clit. Without that she was effectively edging herself, bringing herself partially up orgasm mountain with no way to reach the top or even throw herself off a lower cliff.
“Nooooooo!” she screamed to herself and to the night which surrounded the bell tower. Her unheard sobs of “No, no, no, no, no,” continued until midnight.
There was no warning. It was not one bell which began the Halloween cascade, but all of the bells in the tower began swinging and ringing. BB was also swinging on the same beam as the biggest bell in the tower. Its mighty “Clang!” tore through her body. The less resounding clangs of the other bells added to the torment.
She was being overwhelmed. Her entire body was vibrating with the bells. The Copper Lady was also vibrating and each and every spring loaded nail was vibrating as well. Some of the nails were vibrating against her breasts, some against her legs, some against her arms and back. And between her legs the copper phallus vibrated within her. It even felt like it was moving in and out of her slightly. But nothing was touching her clit. She tried desperately to rock her pelvis to gain more sensation there, but it was useless. She was standing atop orgasm mountain, but couldn’t throw herself off in release.
After an eternity, the bells became silent and the Copper Lady stopped swinging. She could vaguely hear something being done around her. There was a sound of boards being slid against other boards. Then there was the click of the latches being released and the slight creak as the copper shell was opened. The men unbound her hands and lifted her up off of the phallus. Then they both supported her as they walked down the bell tower’s spiral staircase.
The courtyard seemed the same as before except everyone was now naked. Even the gruff-voiced man with the black staff was sky clad. As the two men led her toward the altar, she suddenly realized that they, too, were naked. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
She expected the flat-topped stone to be cold like the Copper Lady had been cold when she was first placed within it, but it was warm. It was not hot, but it was warm as if she were lying across someone’s body.
She looked up at the sky as she felt her arms and legs being tied. Then she heard the leader say, “First, she deserves pleasure.”
Then the tongues began. Was it the same women? The first tongue somehow felt old... if a tongue can feel old... so perhaps it was the same seven. Each nuzzled and licked seven times. It was wonderful and terrible at the same time. BB was going higher than she had ever gone in her life, but seven was not enough. She was left stranded just before her moment of release.
BB felt each tongue and heard each woman announce the count. Even after all seven had finished, she was stranded near her point of release. Then the leader pounded his staff on the ground and announced in his gruff voice, “Second, she must give pleasure.”
Maybe the seven men would take her to climax. But they didn’t. The copious fluids flowing from her cunt made her so slick that none of them actually got any friction. There were no real sensations. Seven pricks slid in and out of her seven times and yet she was still denied an orgasm.
Then the man with the staff said gruffly, “Now she must receive pain and give pleasure.”
She was untied and rolled over on the stone. Something slimy was smeared on her ass and then fingers began penetrating her rosebud. First there was one, then two, then three, and finally four. Finally the woman who had been pumping her hand in and out of BB’s ass called out loudly, “She is ready!”
The first penis that entered her ass caused a slight amount of pain, but more importantly it caused pleasure. BB moaned with that pleasure but moaned again in frustration as the penis was withdrawn after seven strokes. The plastic strapons gave greater sensations, but they were not the same as flesh. The last man rammed himself forcefully against her ass. Her clit almost... almost was pressed against the rock.
Her arms and legs were again untied. Was this the way that the previous seven had been led to their positions of display?
But instead of standing BB up, the two men carefully turned her and positioned her face up upon the flat rock. The leader positioned himself between her legs and asked loudly, “Will you be the instrument which will restore what was ours before it was theirs?”
BB knew the choice was hers. There was no power controlling her at this moment... except her own lust... as she said, “Yes, I will.”
When the leader plunged into her it was as if her body burst into flames. There was an intense heat radiating from her cunt throughout her body. As the leader continued to pump within her it was as if her mind was opened to all of time and space. She could see herself from above lying across the flat-topped stone altar. The Fairy Star was trampled into the grass surrounding the altar on the top of the hill. Her voice cried out across the meadow as she began to tremble in orgasm.
Then suddenly she was back in the courtyard. The seven offerings tied in the vaulted openings were screaming with her. An enormous pillar of flame and heat engulfed her and pulled everything up into the night.
And then she passed out.
She was still laying on the altar when the morning sun finally awoke her. Above her, the seven archways were empty in the morning sun. Sophia was sitting on a cushion nearby. Everyone else was gone.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sophia asked.
BB groaned slightly as she first sat up and then stood up. Sophia was holding her black witch’s robe, but there was no underwear. Luckily her shoes were nearby.
“I think so,” BB replied, standing naked in the center of the courtyard.
“They found what they wanted, too,” Sophia said, standing up and walking over to BB.
She reached out and rubbed something low on BB’s stomach, just above BB’s clit. BB cried out in pain. It was as if there were a wound down there.
“Look at it,” Sophia said and BB looked down at her sex. Something was branded into the pubic area above BB’s slit that she always kept shaved smooth. BB traced it with her finger and then muttered, “It’s a heptagram.”
“Fairy Star,” corrected Sophia. “You have been chosen to retain and protect the history of the wise ones.”
BB finished her thesis with no mention of the Copper Lady. Shortly thereafter, she published a book entitled, “Truth and Lies about Mediaeval Torture.” The cover image was a man seated on a Judas Cradle, a pyramid-shaped torture device that, depending on the size and slope of the pyramid, either painfully stretched or totally impaled the unfortunate’s nether hole. The book sold only moderately well, but the television interviews were enough to make Belinda Barnotti, Phd, a well-known anthropologist.
She had several offers to teach at various universities, but she chose to stay local and took a position with her alma mater so that she could also take the position of curator of the Witch Hill Nunnery Museum. It is an interesting museum. And they have a really amazing Halloween party. But you have to be invited to purchase an invitation.
