The Sisters of Circe
The seven slaves were herded into a clearing. Michael could still taste Mistress B’s pee in his mouth after his ingestion of a copious amount of it. The torrent of her nectar into his gaping mouth had seemed a statement in itself, her companions making wisecracks about the uses and benefits of outdoor facilities.
Now the slaves knelt in a line. Mistress H remained with them. The other Doms had instructed them to remain in situ until they returned. An air of nervous anticipation hung in the still October evening. Clearly the opening phase of The Purge hadn’t finished yet.
The minutes passed. A silence, primeval in its intensity, descended on the woodland as dusk affirmed its grip. The slaves knelt in this silence, faces cast downwards as instructed. Then there was movement to the front. Michael risked a quick glance. A file of hooded, cloaked, masked and booted figures emerged from the glade, moving svelte like to form a line in front of them. One stepped forward. He instinctively knew who it was.
“We are the Sisters of Circe, the powers of light and darkness reside in us, bow before us,” ordered Mistress Sidonia.
The slaves bowed down. “Behold our magnificence,” intoned Mistress Sidonia. With the others, Michael glanced up. The array of Goddesses strode before them, their cloaks opened to reveal their naked forms beneath. He felt a sudden stirring in his loins, knowing immediately how dangerous this could be.
“We have convened this gathering to pay tribute to our Coven and to the natural order of things. We summon the lord of the woodland,” continued Mistress Sidonia.
A moment passed. Michael discerned a rustle behind him. Someone was walking behind them. From the corner of his vision Micheal could see the figure move into view.
Mistress Sidonia gestured.
“Behold Herne the Hunter, the satyr of this woodland.”
Herne moved fully into view alongside Mistress Sidonia. His head was adorned with a pair of antlers, his dark hair falling loosely around his shoulders. He stood naked except for a modest cloth around his groin area. The muscles in his arms and torso gleamed as a sliver of moonlight broke through the canopy of trees.
“To initiate this Purge, the Sisters have summoned forth Herne so that one of you may worship his eminence. One of you must draw Herne’s sap and imbibe of it.” Mistress Sidonia looked up and down the line. Micheal heard the intake of breath from the other slaves alongside his own.
“I have chosen,” said Mistress Sidonia. “Slave P crawl forward.” He quickly absorbed the shock and, as if in a trance, shuffled on his knees to where they stood.
“Kneel in front of Herne,” she ordered. He took up his place. She reached down removing Herne’s loin cloth. His cock sprang out, eager for release. Michael was certainly no stranger to dicks but this was one of the largest he had ever witnessed in the flesh. It stood taut and it’s head gleamed in the moonlight.
“Lick the balls and shaft of the woodland god, slave,” commanded Mistress Sidonia.
He leaned in gingerly, his tongue protruding out to find its target. He felt the familiar tingle when it met flesh, finding purchase on the shaft and then working down towards his voluminous swollen balls. His tongue glided over them seeking out every inch. What a terrific sack, thought Michael. Mistress tugged on his hair, signalling it was time for the shaft. He moved up, his tongue now testing the base circumference. Fuck, this is some stump, he thought. He worked his tongue prodigiously, up and down, up and down. It was some specimen, and unprecedented for him.
A low hum started to emit from the semi circle of Sisters around him. It morphed into a chant – “Suck, suck, suck……”
He looked at Mistress. She nodded.
“Yes suck it, you slut,” she said as she took hold of the cock and held it in position for him.
He set to work, opening his mouth for the huge head, letting it settle in his mouth momentarily. It’s musky scent enveloped all his senses. He started to slowly gyrate his mouth on it, establishing a rhythm. It positively throbbed, its pent up power and potency overwhelming. The precum oozed out and into his mouth. Herne groaned. He was close now.
He felt the jolt of the first spasm of orgasm and then his mouth was full of the hot fresh spunk. He fought to keep control, knowing he would be sanctioned if he wasted a drop. Herne’s cock spasmed twice more, ejecting more hot spunk into him. Then Herne withdrew it from his mouth and finished with his hand, ensuring that every last drop was deposited across Slave P’s face. He swallowed the load in his mouth as the rest of it oozed across his face.
“Clean it,” instructed Mistress Sidonia.
He again leaned it and took it in his mouth, the cock warm and still throbbing from the ecstasy of its release.
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