A Thousand and One Submissives

In Japan, the island of Yumemijima is renowned for its fertility temple, a pagan sanctuary perched atop a solitary mountain. Each year, thousands of pilgrims journey there, driven by the hope of sexual regeneration. Before the temple rises a legendary fountain, its water hinting at an ancient miracle. According to rumors, the high priestess infuses it with a sacred force during secret rituals, performed in her isolated retreat. Every drop promises fertility and rekindled desire to those who taste it. Yet this rare source, though it grants wishes, remains reserved for a few wealthy elites willing to offer a precious gift.

But the true mystery of Yumemijima lies with the high priestess herself. No one has ever seen her, and her chamber remains forbidden to all visitors. In truth, however, this room has stood empty since time immemorial. Behind its walls, adorned with sacred symbols, a hidden passage plunges into the temple’s depths. This narrow corridor leads to a vast underground chamber, bathed in dim, muted light.

At the center of this chamber stands an operating chair where a woman named Aiko is tightly bound. She is completely naked, her gaze lost in the void. Her legs, secured to stirrups, form an unyielding V that keeps her spread apart. Her arms, pinned along her sides, and her head, firmly strapped to the chair, condemn her to absolute stillness. This rigid posture is enforced for the merciless rituals that take place there.

Every day, at precisely 9 a.m., the temple bell tolls, signaling the start of the first extraction ritual. The sessions then follow every two hours, until the last one, administered at 7 p.m. Two men, cloaked in black hoods, enter the chamber. One approaches Aiko, a gas mask in hand, while the other coats the machines with glistening lubricant. The first places the mask over Aiko’s face, cutting her off entirely from the outside world, then connects her to a tank filled with a potent aphrodisiac.

The first man activates a percussion drill fitted with a massive dildo, designed to spin rapidly while delivering slow, deliberate thrusts. The relentless internal friction instantly unleashes uncontrollable waves of pleasure. The second man operates a jigsaw, its blade replaced by a chain of eight linked black spheres, each the size of a ping-pong ball. This device, meant for her anus, draws its effect from invasive friction that assaults her elastic walls.

The two men simultaneously drive their ruthless instruments into Aiko’s orifices. The machines’ motors spring to life at once, filling the chamber with a synchronized, oppressive hum. Beneath the gas mask, Aiko is overwhelmed by rising panic, mingled with brutal stimulation that ravages her intimate organs, already ignited by the aphrodisiac. Under the machines’ onslaught, her mind drifts into a whirlwind of sensation and dread, her claustrophobia magnifying every vibration, every jolt. Her body writhes under the unrelenting pressure of pleasure, every muscle taut to the breaking point, as the intensity builds without cease.

In less than a minute, ecstasy peaks, and a first wave of orgasm engulfs her like a devastating tsunami. Her body, slick with sweat, quakes with intense, uncontrollable spasms. A scream of pleasure escapes Aiko, muffled and warped by the latex mask. Her eyes roll back under unbearable pressure, her consciousness faltering, as if drawn into a distant white veil. Her vulva contracts violently, releasing a powerful jet of her precious fluid that bursts forth with force. The stream traces a long, steady arc for a few seconds before weakening and fading away.

Ready to act, one of the men grabs a jug to collect the sacred liquid, careful not to spill a single drop of this precious nectar. The infernal machines stop abruptly, plunging the chamber into an oppressive silence. Only Aiko’s ragged breathing echoes on. The man briefly removes her mask, revealing a ravaged face, streaming with tears and sweat. Her gaze, pale and distant, seems lost in an unfathomable abyss. Trembling, she remains fixed to the chair, shaken by lingering spasms. Her labored breathing struggles to find a trace of calm in this fleeting respite. But scarcely has she caught her breath when the mask is placed back on her face, and the humming resumes. She is dragged once more into a cycle of violation, one that will repeat as long as she can still produce her precious liquid.

Once the ritual is complete, the two men leave the chamber to fill the fountain with the freshly gathered liquid. Medical assistants then enter, performing their tasks with cold indifference. They briefly examine Aiko, clean her, give her water, and administer a nutrient-rich concoction meant to hasten her recovery. Finally, they cover her with a transparent plastic sheet to maintain her body temperature. Their work done, they withdraw, abandoning her alone in her prison, where she must settle for a fragile rest. She lost hope of deliverance long ago. Now, she sees her only release on the path to her demise.

This temple has existed since the feudal era, preserving its tradition across the ages. The priestesses, known there as “Ikenie Miko,” or sacrificial priestesses, have a limited lifespan. They survive only a few years, consumed by stress and the drugs they ingest. When a miko nears her final breath, the monks, guided by their reading of the stars, descend to the village to seek the next chosen one. The villagers, all complicit, turn a blind eye to this grim practice, for the village’s survival depends on the temple’s revenue.

There will always be those who oppose the system, but they are swiftly denounced and executed. A father refusing to let his only daughter be taken, a lover desperate to save his beloved… They are brutally subdued by the monks, then placed upright in narrow bamboo cages. Carried by a procession of villagers to a hidden beach, they are cast into the sea as offerings to Umibosu, the god of the ocean.

These thousands of pilgrims who flock to Yumemijima each year, lured by their selfish desires, remain unaware that, in truth, they fuel the workings of a cruel and crushing mechanism—one that seems to endure for eternity.