The Instrument - Chapter Ten - Kim's Ritual
By Big Brother Alan
A mini-novel about sexual slavery, humiliation, degradation, redemption and escape


Then came another shift in my training. Kim stopped coming to my bed in the
mornings. Also my arms were kept more widely spread apart. I was later to
learn that they didn't want me to masturbate or reach any orgasm for at least
a week. That's why my arms were spread apart. Kim had to accompany me when I
sat on the toilet or took a shower so that she could give me slack only long
enough to accomplish my tasks. But whenever I was alone, my arms were
outstretched.

During this time I was still used primarily as Jessica's toy. Finally, I was
rolled into the great room where I spent a normal day. I had to service
Jessica on two occasions, one in the mid morning, another in the late
afternoon. It was getting late and the lights were dim and indirect. Kim
brought me some food, which she fed me by the spoonful. She also gave me a
pill that I swallowed.

Over the next hour I began to have a very firm erection. Kim brought her
shaving gear into the room and shaved my face. She paid special attention to
the techniques I had taught her, giving me as close a shave as I ever remember
having. She periodically stroked my penis and squeezed it firmly. When my cock
has as hard and long as it was going to get, she measured my length with a
tape measure. She measured from the very base of the shaft, along the top to
the very tip. Then she wrapped the tape around my cock. Both numbers she wrote
down. After that she rubbed my face with some herbal smelling oil and left the
room.

About ten minutes later Kim came in. Still no sign of Jessica. She had dimmed
the lights even further, except for some bright halogen lights shining
directly on me. She was in her ceremonial robe, which can be opened all down
the front along its entire length from neck to floor. I had seen these robes
many times before. Women who wore them were completely nude underneath and
they were only worn when a sexual ritual was to be performed. In my case,
everything seemed like a sexual ritual but that was because I was being
conditioned to it. This group of witches, or whatever they were, undoubtedly
had other events or gatherings that didn't involve sex but I was never to be
part of any of that. I was simply a tool, an instrument, for their sexual
rituals.

Kim said nothing and I knew not to make a sound. She opened her robe and
climbed into position over my face. This was unusual for me. I had pleasured
Kim several times with my mouth, lips, and tongue but never here, never on the
bench. Nonetheless, she lowered herself into position and I tasted her. She
had an odd spicy taste as if she had rubbed something into her vagina. It
wasn't unpleasant. As her juices began to mix with the spicy taste my lips and
tongue began to tingle. My erection was pounding. I won't say I loved Kim. At
least not as you might say you love your girlfriend or your wife. I loved her
as my mistress and my benefactor. She cared for me and looked after me. She
was tender and loving to me, so I developed a kind of love for her too. As I
was licking her and drinking her juices and as I heard her low moans and felt
her rhythmic swaying I felt a welling of emotions for her. I wanted her to
experience nothing but pleasure. That loving concentration allowed me to
really zero in on her spot, and she zoomed to a powerful, gripping orgasm,
which lasted a long, long time. She became still and squeezed my face with her
legs to signal me to be perfectly still as well. She hunched over me like that
for at least ten minutes, inhaling and exhaling in deep contented breaths.

But this ritual wasn't over yet. As she recovered her breath and her senses
she released me and positioned herself over my legs. She straddled me and
raised herself up onto her knees and grasped my hard penis with both hands.
She stroked up and down on it as if willing it to be as hard and as long as it
could be. My penis ached from its weeklong neglect. Kim rubbed the head of my
cock back and forth a few times across her still wet pussy and then plunged
down onto me quickly. She gasped from the pleasure of it and began to work me
up and down. The spicy substance I tasted in her vagina was still working. I
could feel it tingling my penis. I had to remain perfectly still or else I
would cum very much against my will. I had to close my eyes and purposely
think of unpleasant things to keep my orgasm from spiraling out of control. It
wasn't working. I was just about over the top - to that point beyond which
there is no turning back. I opened my eyes and - thank God - Kim was giving me
the sign to release. She passed her hand down her face, fingers spread,
lightly running her middle finger from her forehead to the tip of her nose:
the signal to release. Not a moment too soon. I shot into her, a week's worth
of built up frustration. She exploded at the same time, breaking a minor taboo
by moaning a little too loudly. During a ritual no words were to be spoken.
The only acceptable sounds were close-mouthed moans. An open-mouthed moan or
sigh, or God forbid, a cry, were considered to be bad form, some even believed
them to be bad omens.

Kim did as she always did. She stayed there motionless, savoring every
receding wave of her orgasm, every fading memory of her pleasure. She stayed
there, her eyes closed, back arched, breasts extended, surrounding and
cradling my penis in her vagina. After a few moments she made a hand signal I
did not recognize. She extended an index finger to her left earlobe and traced
a circle up and around her ear, down to her jaw line, and then to the tip of
her chin. At this sign, four women in their hooded ceremonial robes approached
from the four corners. I had no idea they were there. Two grasped Kim's upper
arms. Two took hold of her ankles. They all lifted her, still in her
crouching, bent-knee position. As Kim was being lifted off my pudgy cock she
put her left hand to her vagina as if to prevent it from dripping.

And that was the very purpose of her gesture. The four attendants lowered Kim
into position above my face. And Kim lowered herself to my waiting, parted
lips. Our mingled juices spilled into my mouth. I tasted my own cum for the
first time. It really was slightly bitter. The taste of her wetness was as
familiar to me as Jessica's. As familiar as Jessica's but definitely preferred
over it, the difference being that I wanted Kim's cum. Jessica was a duty and
a chore. Kim was an eagerly awaited treat. Finally, there was that still
present spicy taste. I drank her. I licked her. I sucked on her. I tickled her
with my lips and teeth. I rejoiced in this place of all beginnings. She
reached one final orgasm - it was a required part of the ritual - but her
favorite part of the entire event was our coupling. I could tell by the warm
and twinkling looks she was giving me as she dismounted.

She still wasn't allowed to speak. No one was. The room cleared but as each
attendant or spectator left they would approach me with their hoods still up.
They would bow low over my groin and without using their hands they would lick
my penis once. I was later to learn that this was the Purification Ritual.
Women who have reached a milestone in their careers or who are being honored
for some achievement, are treated to a Purification Ritual. Some women hope to
become pregnant in their Purification Ritual. I also learned later that it was
considered good luck to taste the mingled juices of the woman and her
instrument in this particular ritual. Ten women licked my penis. Most just
gave my penis a quick lick on the side, but one, I have no idea who, bent low
covering my entire groin with her hood and took my whole penis in her mouth,
and sucked me for about five seconds. Maybe she needed an extra dose of good
luck.

The room cleared and became silent for about ten minutes. Then Jessica entered
and blindfolded me. The lights were turned brighter and the women re-entered
talking and chatting and socializing. There was laughter and chitchat and the
sound of wine glasses and forks scraping across plates. Someone sat beside me
on the bench and I heard the sound of splashing water. A sponge was being
lifted from water and squeezed out. The sponge was applied caressingly to my
face. My head was lifted and I was given a sip of wine. The sponge was used to
wipe down my entire body. I guess this was part of a post-ritual ritual. Or
maybe some new initiate was being given a task in her early training. Or maybe
it was the woman in need of extra luck. Whoever she was she was being very
quiet. I wouldn't find out who it was for quite some time.