Enticed: An Erotic Sacrifice Read Online Free PDF Page B

bitter. Something poured down his throat, smooth and cold.
    Zaren drank greedily, reaching for the wrist of the hand holding whatever vessel had been brought to his mouth, keeping it in place as he gulped his fill. He saw shadows, heard voices through the dimness, and his mind was foggy and soft.
    But… Jane.
    Where is Jane?
    He could see only shadows, and the faint glow of orange-yellow flames in the corner of a dim place with dancing, shifting walls. The burning in his side had eased, but he was restless and the hands…many hands…soothed him. Brushed him. Massaged, stroked, rubbed… He sighed, stretched. His abused body melted beneath the touch.
    They were everywhere. Hands. Small. Delicate. Busy.
    He arched and tried to move away when they settled there …at his thing …the thing that shifted between his legs and now began to grow stiff and long and thick.
    Jane.
    He reached for her, called out for her. Someone pushed him back down when he would have risen, and those hands…they were everywhere. He thought he heard murmurs, voices, and from a distance perhaps a soft giggle followed by a low sigh that ruffled against his skin and made him feel hot again…but in a way that was very far from pain.
    And those hands…they brushed over his stiffening length and Zaren tried to bat them away, but they were determined—and more hands massaged and stroked his face, his shoulders, his arms, his legs. But then fingers, suddenly closing around him tight and firm, caught him by surprise.
    A shock of pleasure rushed over him, and Zaren’s eyes bolted open, his heart racing. The place was murky and dark, the glow of fire in the corner revealed the shape of a woman…no, two women…next to him. Both dark-haired, with small, insistent hands that were touching him everywhere . They lifted his sac and fondled it, brushed over the sensitive hair growing on his thighs, his bush.
    Where is Jane?
    He tried to speak, tried to lift himself up, but he was too weak…and that one pair of hands was still tight and warm around him, enclosing the part of him that swelled and filled. When they moved again, sliding up and down along his lengthening rod, he gasped and felt a hard, powerful throb of response against those tight fingers. A sizzle of heat rushed through him, and he fell back with a moan. Stroke…stroke…slide…
    Jane.
    He wanted Jane , not this woman…these women…there were three of them now, somehow. The one had hold of his rod, sliding up and down his length with long, slow movements. Something glistened and dripped from the tip, and Zaren felt his arousal growing. She brushed a thumb over the slick, sticky droplet and smoothed it over the engorged head of his cock as her hands continued to move faster and faster. He couldn’t hold back a moan, and felt his body growing damp with sweat, weak with need.
    The other two women were on either side of his torso, their hands massaging his shoulders and face, their bodies brushing against him with warm lips, tickling nails, and soft skin. Heat and pleasure filled him, beating back the nagging pain at his side, and he lay there, weak and yet thrumming with pleasure, unable to push away his attendants. Soft, moist mouths settled on his jaw, his shoulders, his arms…even over the nipples of his muscular male teats, and made him shiver and tremble.
    One of them took his hand and pressed it to her…smoothing it over the hard tip of her own teat, and Zaren yanked away with what little strength he had.
    I want Jane.
    But the women were insistent and he was too weak and confused—was this a dream?—and when the stroking on his rod became faster and tighter, he could no longer fight the hot, surging pleasure. It rolled through him like a massive wave, and his breathing rasped and became more labored. He rolled his head from side to side, reached out into the air, trying to break free of whatever murkiness claimed him.
    It should be Jane who touched him like this, Jane whose hands