Castle Keep 4: Seeds of Evil

Author’s note: Castle Keep began as a single story with no intention of adding to it. However, at the request of readers that have favorably responded and wanted more, the original story has grown. Some of you voiced questions about William’s quest and how it took root. This is my attempt to answer those inquiries.

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CASTLE KEEP 4: SEEDS OF EVIL

A woman noisily pushed her way past heavy brush. Her brown eyes swept from side to side looking for the berries of food-bearing bushes she knew to be in the area. Her ears alertly listened for signs of danger, but they did not detect the footfalls of a trailing jackal.

Both females were burdened by a growing infant. That in the jackal stirred with life and was ready to be discharged. The woman felt no such confirmation, and it had been several weeks since she last had.

The woman was suddenly struck down by excruciating pain in her belly. She fell to her knees, and then curled up beside a large rock. Her body expelled the child it carried, but it did not cry, for the infant had died of natural causes before its life ever began.

Behind the rock the jackal gave birth to a child, a boy. As the father was an evil beast, it too was a beast but in human form. So distraught was the mother that upon hearing the crying of an infant, she looked around the rock and saw a healthy baby; her baby. Yes, she had delivered that precious infant into the world. 

She returned to the tribe holding new life in her arms. She would never remember that an exchange took place. The jackal would devour all proof and none would ever learn of it.

When the new mother returned with the child and the father saw it was a boy, he was delighted. As shaman of the tribe, an heir was of the utmost importance. He would teach his son about all things spiritual as his father had taught him. He would read the night sky and interpret omens, lead the tribe in worship to the gods they believed in, and oversee sacrifices to gain heavenly favor.

In the mind of the shaman, all was as it should be. He would not live long enough to find out otherwise.

* * * * *

On the night of the birth of the golden child, the great and wise shaman looked into the night sky and observed a change in the pattern of stars above. He shared this spectacular event with his son, who would take over the duties of the tribal shaman after he had passed on to the other side. He was sure it was an omen of warning. 

It was not until the next morning when news of the birth of the golden child was known. When he heard of it, he sensed the birth and the change in the stars were linked. The new infant would be the key to a mysterious lock that must be discovered. He had to find out what special magic had made this happen.

Months turned into years, and the answer he sought eluded him. Finally his health deteriorated, and his dying words were cautionary.

"Son, as shaman you must find the reason for the golden woman. It is not by coincidence that she was born. Everyone in the tribe knows this, and they will look to you for spiritual guidance. She is the key to a divine event, but I am now unable to seek the answer. You must find the clues and solve the mystery, for the fate of the tribe depends on you."

He acknowledged this task and gave his father a reassuring smile. But the father could not see that evil lurked in the heart of the son. The tribe was his, but it was in his own interests that he was concerned with.

A massive tree held the history of the tribe. Unique symbols identifying members were carved into the trunk and beside them were slash marks for every winter they survived. Beside his name were twenty eight such slashes, and beside the one symbol for the golden woman was twenty. 

Normally women of their age were partnered with men by now, and the joyous occasion was marked by happiness and celebration. But the golden woman remained untouched, for the tribe both respected and feared her. All knew she was reserved for a purpose for which she was born, and now they looked to the new shaman for guidance.

The new shaman was drawn to the golden woman and her unparalleled beauty. Her eyes were as blue as the sky above, her hair as yellow as the brightly shining sun, and her allure as strong as the moving sea. In contrast, all others had dark hair and eyes, and always had. 

He admired, adored, and desired the golden woman, and he would claim her innocence. With his father gone and the power of his position now in the hands of the evil son, the young shaman could fully exploit his newfound advantage.

The tribe was gathered and he announced that he had found the purpose for the golden woman. Her purity would be taken from her on the Stone of Sacrifice by his very own spear. When they asked for the reason, the shaman was at a loss. He could not see beyond his own passion. But they sought answers, and so he boldly lied. 

"Under the light of the next full moon the golden woman will be sacrificed. This will so please the gods that on the night of the next full moon, the stars will realign and reveal a magnificent secret."

The shaman was proud of his clever proclamation, because it silenced the questions yet gave him time to think. By the time of the following full moon he would have thought up something equally clever, he felt sure of it.

"She will be prepared as if for marriage, with all the joy and celebration that accompanies such a union. The first full moon occurs in three nights, and this demonstration will signify our devotion to our beliefs."

As he talked his eyes were drawn to the golden woman who sat on the ground separated from the remaining members of the tribe. Her glorious breasts dangled temptingly in the open, for the air was warm and the sun's rays truly refreshing. The modest swells were round and the pink nipples that peaked them were long and inviting. The spear stirred restlessly beneath the cloth that covered his genitals. His eagerness to have her was growing by the hour.

The next day the tribe was buzzing with activity as preparations commenced. Women collected flowers, roots, and berries. These were ground between stones according to a recipe handed down from mother to daughter for generations. It created aromatic nectar that would be used for cleansing and purifying the skin of the promised woman prior to the ceremony so her essence could be fully savored by the man that took her.

The men participated as well. The celebration called for a glorious feast, and so they hunted for more food than they normally required. For his part the shaman met with the tribe elders in the Cave of Vision, smoked from the Pipe of Truth, and sought the waking visions that would foretell of a successful union. 

The shaman knew the ceremony was a ploy so he alone could enjoy the virtuous body of the golden woman. None knew of his secret desire, or that he pleasured himself cloaked by darkness with thoughts of her on his mind. He could not feel the evil in his heart, and could not see that the fate of the golden woman was not his choice at all but directed by a much more sinister force than he could have ever imagined. 

Unaware of the disturbing undercurrents of evil, he anticipated that smoking from the Pipe of Truth would reveal nothing. But he was wrong; terribly wrong. It was not uncommon for only one or two of the elders to have waking visions when under the spell of the smoke, but none had ever died in fear when confronted by them. 

Two of the five elders had visions that day. It was no coincidence that they were the only two pure of heart. One froze in fear, ferociously screamed, and crossed to the other side after suffering a violent, spastic episode. The other, who had entered the cave with a full head of dark hair, left physically trembling with all pigmentation gone. He would never speak to anyone again.

Rumors quickly spread and the tribe discovered that some horrible vision had been seen. They found it most troubling, and as the shaman urged them to proceed with joy-filled hearts the celebration was cold and depressive. But he didn't care, nor was he worried in the least. There was no basis that the visions were ever more than a man's own imagination, and he attributed the death to diminishing health

The elder who could not speak retreated to a nearby cave and was rarely seen from that point forward. Food was taken to him, and whispers that questioned his sanity were raised. Inside the cave he drew the vision that had so frightened him in all its evil detail. It was written in symbols and diagrams that formed their dying language. He wanted future generations to know what was coming, so they could be ready when the gates of hell were threatened to be opened and creatures of all types were to be unleashed upon the land.

* * * * *

On the evening of the next full moon the tribe filled their bellies with roasted animals, donned robes of fur, and half-heartedly performed traditional dancing. 

Although none would speak the words, most of the tribe was dissatisfied and suspicious of their new shaman. His selfishness had revealed itself in various forms of speech and action, and all faith in him was lost. The tribe was doomed. Their only hope was for the secret of their fate to be revealed on the night of the next full moon, so none questioned the sacrifice.

In a traditional hut used for cleansing brides, the golden woman sat between two others much older than herself. A clay pot held a thick, abrasive, sweet-smelling nectar. Soft fingers applied it to her body starting with the face. Sea sponges roughly rubbed the skin, removing several layers and all the dirt and grime that soiled it.

Her back and arms followed. When this was finished they guided her down on her back. They gently bent her knees and positioned her thighs far apart, revealing her pink virtue and the curls of golden hair that flanked it.

The two women looked at each other, for they had never seen such color on a woman. They softly chuckled, and for a moment the golden woman felt awkward and exposed.

Noting the change in her, both women smiled apologetically and set her at ease again. The cleansing continued. This time nectar was smeared around her breasts and on her flat belly. The rough scraping of the skin was performed as delicately as possible but discomfort could not be avoided.

As the golden woman remained in a reclined posture her two attendants repositioned themselves so they could better access her breasts. The tender swells called for greater care, and it was given. 

This time when their cupped hands reached into the nectar pot, they moved to the extreme bottom and collected more of the liquid and less of the grit. This very moist paste was lightly rubbed all over the smooth skin of the breasts.

The golden woman groaned in delight as so often the newly awakened young women did. Strange tingling warmth filled her loins, and she curiously looked up at one of the women.

"Embrace the pleasing sensations you feel, these are the most wonderful part of this tradition," she was told.

The shame and humiliation that initially accompanied her joy evaporated after hearing the reassuring words. Her muscles relaxed, her blue eyes closed, and she breathed in the wondrous scent that permeated the small hut.

The whole time that the cleansing of her breasts was performed she was in a state of arousal. The warmth of the hands that carefully smeared the nectar was delightful. As it was distributed the fingertips also squeezed and caressed on the creamy swells and triggered a more intense heat in her lower belly. There was growing wetness between her legs and it felt decidedly amazing.

Nothing could have prepared her for the cleansing of the peaks. Before they started the two attendants gave each other a knowing look that went unobserved by the golden woman. They knew it was one of two acts that often resulted in orgasm.

At precisely the same time each attendant took a nipple into their mouths. They licked and sucked on them hard, and as they did the normally long peaks swelled and hardened in their full glory. The golden woman was unprepared and gasped aloud. The sucking caused an intense wave of pleasure that moved through her flesh, and a surge of essence further moistened the pink folds of her virtue so that they visibly glistened. 

Once hard, the mouths retreated and nectar was quickly applied. Their left hands were placed upon the breasts to hold them down. The middle fingers were parted and the swollen nipples pulsated between them. With the thumbs and index fingers of the right hands, they pinched and twisted on the nipples to clean them. They intentionally teased the golden woman and maintained the direct, slightly painful stimulation for far longer than necessary, which was also traditional.

The breath caught in her throat as she felt sharp jolts of stinging pain, but it was strangely pleasing. The fire in her loins burned hotter still and she breathlessly moaned in tortured delight. She never imagined that the touching of her nipples could be so erotic and joyful. She trembled with uncontrollable excitement as she slowly approached climax. Wetness continued seeping from her belly, and her virtue was decidedly soaked. The smell from the aroused woman challenged that of the fragrant nectar. 

The attendants quietly chuckled amongst themselves, for they knew what came next. With a shared gesture that coordinated their efforts the two women moved the fingers of their right hands away from the vibrating peaks and replaced them with their mouths for the traditional rinsing of the nipples.

The subject of the cleansing had not anticipated the rinsing and its wondrous effect on her body. She tensed briefly and then wildly writhed and shuddered in the clutches of orgasm, as had so many that preceded her. Her groaning voice accompanied a renewed surge of essence that bathed her virtue in its warmth as her fingers and toes curled and tightened upon themselves. For several seconds her flesh savored the peals of pleasure that were centered in her loins and reached out like magical fingers.

When the climax dissipated the attendants turned their attention to her feet and legs. These were more soiled and in need of cleaning than any other part of her. With the nectar applied her feet and legs were scrubbed raw with the sea sponges, and several layers of skin were removed and the stains along with it. When finished, her body shimmered and appeared slightly pink from the cleansing. Only her virtue remained to be cleaned.

The women plunged their fingers into the nectar pot and withdrew their coated fingers. The fingers then rubbed the nectar onto her wet, pink outer folds. The golden woman vibrated again as pleasing sensations continued to be generated. One woman pushed the outer folds apart as the other dipped her fingers into the pot once more. This time the nectar was rubbed directly on her Valley of Desire, which encompassed all delicate parts of a woman. The hard little nub was the most fragile of all, and when the fingertip smeared nectar upon it the golden woman’s body jerked and she groaned louder than ever.

A few women were clustered outside the hut, and they could hear the moaning this time. They too had experienced the traditional cleansing, and they laughed amongst themselves as that most glorious time was relived through the golden woman.

The rinsing was all that remained, and this was sure to result in orgasm. Both attendants placed their tongues in the Valley of Desire, one at the top and one the bottom. They pressed them against the smooth warm flesh and skillfully licked and sucked. The golden woman shook as never before and her voice cried out in sheer amazement at the intense tingling delight that filled her quivering flesh. The women outside laughed louder, for they knew precisely at what stage the cleansing tradition had reached.

The more the mouths licked, the heavier the flow of her essence became. The tongues noisily lapped on her virtue. The golden woman could sustain little more than a few moments of the direct stimulation before erupting a second time. It was more powerful than the first and her body seized and shook in a tremendous fit of joy. Her belly delivered a squirt of essence that replaced what the licking mouths removed, and when the glistening faces retreated she was as wet as before.

They sat her up and washed her long golden hair. After, the kinks were worked out until it appeared straight and smooth. They had her stand and they dressed her naked form in the traditional robe.

“The preparations are complete,” the women agreed. “It is time.”