Rhoda's Pet

We drove in silence down the M2, the hum of the engine the only sound in the back of the limousine. Heading toward Higham, a quiet patch of Kent. The driver took the turns in the country lanes with mechanical precision, the suspension groaning as we bounced over the rough tarmac. It felt as if we were being erased from the map. We slowed at a Y-junction, and the driver turned left without hesitation.

The road narrowed, becoming tree-lined and dark. We approached two large iron gates that swung open silently at the driver's gesture. We drove another half-mile, the trees closing in, before pulling into a secluded courtyard. A few weather-beaten cottages lined one side, their windows dark, while a larger, imposing building stood alone in the center, detached from the world.

"Out," Rhoda commanded.

I stepped out into the cool night air and walked around to help her. As she stepped onto the gravel, she didn't even look at me. "Follow me," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. I followed like a lost puppy, my heels clicking on the stones.

We walked toward the main building, shadows stretching long and twisted. A heavy door on the side of the structure slid open with a hiss of hydraulics. I followed Rhoda inside; the door slid shut behind us, sealing us in darkness.

We stood in a long, narrow hallway. Purple lights ran along the walls, casting a bruised, artificial glow that made the shadows dance. It felt like another dimension, a place where the rules of the outside world didn't apply. I followed Rhoda up a short flight of stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically, then into a large room at the front.

It looked like a chapel, but not one I recognized. The pews were arranged in rows that faced an altar at the far end, but the lighting was dramatic—purple and black. It felt unholy.

Between the pews and the altar stood a raised circle, marked by four thick leather straps. "Strip," she commanded, her voice devoid of emotion.

I obeyed instantly as the room's cool air hit my naked skin. "Hands behind your back," she ordered. The metal cuffs snapped shut, locking my wrists together. "Kneel on the circle." I moved to the platform and followed her instructions. She fastened two straps over my ankles, spreading my legs wide and leaving me helpless.

Rhoda walked to a cupboard beside the altar and returned with a few items. She slipped a heavy iron collar around my neck, the cold metal biting into my skin. Next, she placed an iron cage over my head and fastened it securely to the collar. I could barely see through the dark bars, my vision narrowed to a tunnel.

She produced a piece of wood shaped like a phallus. She opened a flap covering my mouth. "Open your mouth." She slid the wooden dick in until I gagged, the hardwood forcing my jaw open. She gave a couple of turns, and it clicked into place. She closed the flap, locking the wood deep in my mouth, effectively silencing me.

Once she was satisfied, she left me alone. The room plunged into darkness for a moment, then a purple spotlight sliced through the gloom, illuminating the center of the circle. I was the star of this fucked-up show.

I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel courtyard below, followed immediately by muffled voices drifting up through the floorboards. I couldn't make out the words, only the low hum of conversation. Time dragged on, stretching the silence thin, until the voices finally died out, leaving only the tick of the old building.

Then came footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. A door clicked open somewhere behind me. I heard the distinct shuffle of feet and the jingle of chains. I heard people settle into the room behind me.

Then a naked man walked into the pool of purple light. He carried a large candle on a stick, his wrists cuffed to the handle so he couldn't drop it. His legs were bound together with a hobble chain. His cock was trapped in a metallic cage, obscuring his anatomy. A heavy iron collar encircled his neck, connected to a long chain that the old woman held in her hand.

She was an imposing figure, dressed in a full purple robe with intricate gold symbols along the hem. She looked like a priestess, or perhaps a queen of a forgotten, darker court. She let go of the leash, letting the chain drag on the floor, then brought her walking cane down hard on the wood three times.

The room fell into a heavy, expectant silence.

Rhoda entered the room and stood next to the old woman. She was completely naked, her skin glistening, framing her body with her hair. She moved with predatory grace, her eyes locking onto mine, marking her territory.

The Shuvanni struck the floor with her cane three times, the sound cracking through the purple silence like a gavel. "Who is responsible for this Gorgio before us?" Her voice was strong and commanding, vibrating through the soles of my feet.

"I am, Rhoda of Collina."

"Why do you portray him in such a way?"

"I wish to petition for ownership to right a wrong he and his tribe of Gorgios did to us, the Colinas."

"Members of the Colinas tribe, please stand." The scrape of chairs echoed behind me. "Are you all willing to shoulder this burden?"

The room erupted in a chorus of "ayes," a unified sound of ancient agreement.

"Rhoda of Collina, are you willing to allow your gorgio to undergo baptism and the sharing?"

"Yes, Shuvanni, I am."

She declared it so, then struck the cane three more times, a sharp rhythm signaling the start of the ceremony.

"Ladies of Collina, bring your pets and ready them."

From the shadows at the back of the room came the sound of shuffling feet and chains. Rhoda’s female relatives emerged, each leading a chained man by a leash. They were all gagged, their hands bound behind their backs, and hooded. They looked like ghosts, silent witnesses to my degradation.

The ladies released the locks on the metal cages that imprisoned their men's cocks. With a ceremonial flourish, the cages fell away, freeing their erections. The men were pushed forward and forced to stand on the first step of the circular plinth, where I was strapped down.

Three more bangs with the cane.

The women reached out and grabbed their men's cocks, stroking them furiously, hard and fast. It was a display of raw animalistic need. It didn't take long. The men groaned, their bodies tense, and began to shower me.

Hot cum spurted out, coating my hair, my face, my arms, my back, and my legs. I was drenched in the seed of my captors.

I couldn't help myself. I bit down hard on the wooden cock in my mouth, tasting varnish and saliva, trying to scream through the gag.

The men were led away to kneel in a line before the altar. I jumped as much as my bonds would allow as the circle I was strapped to slowly began to lower. I stopped when my head was about two feet below the surface. I heard a metallic grating and looked up to see a circular grate slide across the opening. It seemed to be made of welded crisscross strands. There were two wider pieces on each side of the center.

Three more bangs with the cane, and the first of Rhoda's family placed a foot on each of the wider parts of the grate, then crouched. A hot stream of piss flowed down through the grate, soaking me and mixing with the drying semen. One after another, they crouched and pissed. The last was Rhoda, who looked at me and smiled that evil smile of hers as she began to piss. I was left alone in the dark, debased and scared.

I heard movements above me, chains hitting the floor, sighs, and pleasurable groans coming from all around the room. A man fell on the grate, and Rhoda's ginger-haired aunt fell on top of him. She fed his cock into her open pussy. They were having an orgy while I was in a pit covered in piss and spunk.

I was left in the dark pit, shivering as the piss and spunk dried on me, the cold air seeping into my skin. My back and knees ached, a constant reminder of my submission. Above me, the noise of the orgy faded into silence. I closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back to just a few months ago, when I was a free man, my mind my own, standing on top of the world. I hung my head low, defeated by the weight of the cage on my head and the cruelty of the situation. I closed my eyes and did something close to prayer.

Suddenly, I jerked up on my knees as a stream of cold, soapy water sprayed down from above. The stream circled, hitting every part of me and smelling strongly of carwash soap. It stopped, and another stream hit me—cold, clear water—to wash away the suds. Panic set in as I wondered where the water was going, relieved only when I saw the grooves in the walls of the pit that allowed it to drain. The water stopped, and I heard the grinding of the grate above me as it slipped aside. The platform I was on jerked and began to ascend. Slowly, it moved up, and I looked around as soon as my head was clear of the pit.

The room was empty, clear except for Rhoda's family, all lined up. The platform stopped with a jerk. The old lady spoke. "Your baptism is complete. Now you must complete the sharing." I looked at her blankly. "What belongs to one belongs to all. You will spend one day with each of us before Rhoda takes you as hers. Soon, all of your clan will be kneeling before us, and you will help deliver each one to us." I just stared at her through the bars.

A man undid the front flap of the cage, pulled out the wooden gag, and I moved my jaw to relieve the cramp. Then the cage and collar were removed. My ankles were unstrapped. The old lady told me to stand. Two men wrapped me in warm towels and dried every crevice. Another collar was fitted around my neck, followed by a small ball gag and a rubber hood. A leash was attached, and I was led away.