Tribute

by Jefferson James
Last worked on: 02.08.06

The men approaching her father’s camp were an imposing lot and Eena was filled with foreboding. She recognized two of them from the council of elders that she had recently watched from afar. The holy man was with them, as were six of the strongest protectors. One carried a long pole and had hanks of rope over his shoulder. The other five walked with their weapons in hand.

“No!” Eena’s father shouted. “I’ll not have it!”

One of the elders raised his hand and said, “You’ve no choice.”

“None of us has a choice,” the other added.

As the holy man began saying his words and making his signs, Eena’s father charged. He struck the first elder with his fist, but was soon restrained by the three largest of the protectors.

“She’s too young! It’ll be the death of her. You’ve got to choose another.”

Her father’s words caused Eena to tremble with apprehension. She shrank back into the shadows, but felt the cold eyes of the nearest protector locked on her. He nudged the one with the pole and pointed at her.

“Take me in her place,” Eena’s mother said, pushing past and rushing forward. “I will go with you willingly, but leave my child be.”

A protector intercepted her before she was even near the elders.

“If you’re wanting it, I can give it to you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from the back, one hand grabbing her large breast and the other jamming between her legs, lifting her from the ground.

Her legs flailed and the other protectors laughed.

“Put her down and treat her with respect!” the highest ranking elder growled. “This is not sport!”

The second elder seemed even more agitated than he had before. Speaking with a shaking voice, he said, “As much as you are a fine example of all things female, we can not risk upsetting our enemies. I’ll not wager the lives of every man, woman, and child on their leader believing you are a virgin. She’s not a child; she is old enough to be a bride in the spring and therefore old enough to be offered as tribute. We drew lots. She was chosen. So be it.”

“So be it,” repeated the holy man.

The first elder nodded to the two remaining protectors and said, “Make it so.”

“Tribute?” Eena whispered to herself.

She didn’t fully understand the word or its implications. She had heard talk among girls her age, and those a few years her senior, and knew it was something dreadful, but that’s all. There was another word the elder had spoken, but she did not know it’s meaning either. But when the remaining protectors, one pointing his weapon in her direction and the other carrying the pole and ropes, headed toward her, she knew she must be both a virgin and tribute.”

Eena backed away. She retreated until she could retreat no more. The protectors followed, moving closer and closer until they blocked her only path. As her mother sobbed and her father hurled curses at the elders, the pole was placed behind Eena’s head. Her arms were stretched along its length, and lashed securely in place. A rag was stuffed into her mouth, overfilling it.

“Are you scared?” the protector asked, as he tied a leather thong tightly around her head and between her lips, holding the stuffing in place. “Or do want it like your eager-for-the-rut mother?

When he had finished tying a rope around Eena’s slender waist like a goat is tethered by its neck, the protector looked to see how closely he was being watched and then stealthily squeezed her breast. She tried to cry out in protest, but her words were muffled and it only caused her violator to grin.

For nearly half a day one protector tugged her along and the one who had taken liberties with her previously shoved from behind, taking further liberties when his hand would many times find itself in the cleft of her bottom, his fingertips pressing into the lip-like folds between her thighs. She had long since given up trying to get the attention of the elders leading the way, and stumbled onward with her head hung in shame and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eena had never been so far from home as the high hill to which she was taken. Halfway down the side overlooking the enemy’s encampment, the pole binding her was pulled downward, forcing her onto her back, and large boulders were placed upon its ends. The protector who had been accosting her all along, knelt over her, grinned and exposed her budding breasts to the cool afternoon air with a violent ripping of cloth.

Eena squealed. Being seen like that by anyone, besides strange men, besides this particular man was more than she could bear. She fought against the ropes lashing her to the pole until her hands were red and aching. Her head tossed from side to side, slinging her tears in both directions. It did no good.

“What are you doing?” the second elder asked.

The protector quickly forced the huge leering grin off of his face and turned, saying, “It is required.”

The first protector nodded, and the holy man began making signs and saying words once more.

Required? Eena wondered why such a thing should be required. More and more, terror coursed through her veins. She knew of nursing, but she also knew that men were obsessed with female breasts and it had something to do with mating. Her mother had told her she was too young for mating, but her mother had also told the elders she was too young for whatever their purpose was as well. She wished she knew what it meant to be a virgin.

Raising her head, she saw that she was lying between two more large boulders and that the protectors were readying two more ropes. For a short distance in all directions the soil was heavily trodden, bearing witness to the popularity of this somehow special place. Once more resting her head on the ground, she looked at the enemy encampment. From the incline where she lay, a single man was almost too small to see, but even from as far away as it was, the camp looked immense.

The protectors bound her ankles and then pulled them an indecent distance apart. They yanked them upwards toward her hips, forcing her knees to bend, looping the ropes around the boulders. The cool afternoon air washed over her thighs and nether lips, sending a chill up her spine. That part of her men called cunt was still hidden to those standing over her, but would be clearly visible to anyone coming up the hill, even with her knees clamped together like they were.

A moment later, however, and her clothing was jerked upward and all but her belly was there for any and all to see. Her face reddened with a mixture of shame and anger. She fought madly to get free, but accomplished little more than tiring herself. As she lie there, wracked with sobs, she heard the second elder ask, “Is this too required?”

The first elder nodded and said, “She has more hair there than my bride did on the night of our wedding. She’s old enough.”

He hung his head and walked a short ways off, followed by the second elder and the holy man. The two protectors each looped the ropes that were binding Eena’s ankles and wound around the boulders through her knees. As the ropes were tightened and her legs spread, Eena fully recognized the position she was in. She had been woken in the middle of night more than a few times, pretended to be asleep and watched her parents. She had seen her mother in this very position. Eena was in mating position, she knew it, and she no longer had any doubts as to the service she would be offering as tribute.

As if to confirm her suspicions, the crude lout of a protector who had fondled her earlier said, in a hushed voice, “I’ll be wanting some young cunt tonight for certain.”

“Have you seen my youngest son’s new bride?” the other asked.

“I take it you’ll be exercising your Protector’s Right of Household,” the crude one whispered back.

“That I will. My son and his new wife hate the old ways, but he’ll stand aside. A few hard slaps to her face will make his bride compliant enough, I know.

“Have you taken her before?”

“Only twice. It would be unwise for me to challenge my son too often.”

Then, glancing between Eena’s open legs , he added, “But like you, I’ll be wanting to rut with a young girl tonight.

“Would you like a different cunt; one you haven’t had yet? We can trade. We’ll meet at the hill south of the main village. You on the east and me on the west. I’ll bring my eldest son’s wife. She the youngest and freshest of the lot, and has the most spirit. They may not be happy about our arrangement, but once they are tied like this one, what choice will they have?”

After tying the ropes and testing the strength of their knots, both men got to their feet, nodded at each other and followed the elders and holy man. Eena watched through teary eyes as they disappeared into the distance. Then, looking down the hill to the enemy encampment, she shuddered. Who would be mating with her, she wondered, a king, a general, or some drooling barbarian warlord?
The End for now… A work in progress to be continued, changed, etc.
(c) Copyright February 2006 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, by and for the person reading this notice, for private reading.