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  In the aftertimes, the earth is a barren, dry place. Maal’s tribe prays to the sun god, Dag-ra, to gift them with enough food and water to make it through the year. On the first day of summer, they must give an offering. One soul to sacrifice.

  Most years it’s someone from the tribe who’s committed a crime, but when there are no criminals, the council decides to put up the oldest member. Maal won’t allow them to sacrifice his grandfather, and demands the mighty god take him instead.

  Dag-ra has been long waiting for one such as Maal.

  Sacrificed to the Sun God

  by

  Kelex

  MM, MPREG, ANAL SEX, LIGHT BONDAGE, WHIPPING, PUBLIC SEXUAL ENCOUNTER, AND FANTASY

  Twisted E Publishing, LLC

  www.twistedepublishing.com

  A TWISTED EROTICA PUBLISHING BOOK

  Sacrificed to the Sun God

  Copyright © 2017 by Kelex

  Edited by Marie Medina

  First E-book Publication: July 2017

  Cover design by Cover by K Designs

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2017, Twisted Erotica Publishing, LLC.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Author’s Note

  While Sacrificed to the Harvest God is very, very loosely connected to this story, both are standalones and don’t need to be read together.

  “Watch closely, boy,” Maal’s grandfather muttered, his voice hoarse from age and aridity. The dark powder around his eyes made the whiteness of the orbs stand out all the more. “You shall gaze upon our god this day.”

  The Feast was upon them; the one time of the year there was a bounty. He’d grown excited as the days grew nearer, his stomach aching from hunger, yet there was a somberness to it, too. What they sacrificed was too great…

  Brushing a fine layer of sand from his cheek, Maal watched as the thief was dragged to the dais, kicking and screaming. This was the first Feast ceremony he’d been allowed to observe. He knew a member of their tribe was sacrificed each year upon the feast. As the youngest of his tribe, he’d been barred from witnessing this until he’d reached the age of majority. That had come three weeks before.

  He must starve so we can feast.

  Maal struggled to gaze upon the emaciated man, with ribs sticking out from under his flesh. The thief’s naked body only made his starvation stand out all the more. Amon was his name. He was perhaps the age Maal’s father would’ve been now, had the man survived. Dark hallows circled under his eyes, his cheeks… his skin, like leather hanging over a skeletal frame. Food was always scarce, and Maal knew they withheld it from the man given the fact he would soon meet his fate.

  Why bother feeding the walking dead? He understood the concept in theory; yet, the horror of seeing what the elders had done didn’t sit well.

  But then, wasn’t that the point? Don’t break the law, or this could happen to you, too.

  With the scarcity of food and water, almost every offense was punishable by death. Their number was few. The tribe only consisted of fifty.

  Soon to be 49.

  “Dag-ra, we beseech you! Come take this offering we make to you this day,” the priest called from the dais, his arms and face lifted to the sun. Thanks to the hall’s broken ceiling, rays spread all over the stage they formed a semi-circle around, the ever-present fine sand lingering heavily in the beams.

  Sand was everywhere. It got into every crack and fissure, coating everything, including their bodies. It scratched and it made one raw, literally and figuratively. Ever since the Reckoning had come and scorched the planet, they were the last of their kind.

  Or so it was said.

  This world was all Maal knew, crumbling as it was.

  “Remind me why we continue to do this barbaric thing.”

  “You’ll see,” his grandfather mumbled, standing up a little taller.

  Maal saw the tension in his grandfather’s jaw and sensed this wasn’t easy for the man to watch, either. He tilted his glance back to the rotting boards of the stage and the man forced down to his knees.

  The thief continued his screams and wriggling, even as they cuffed his hands and ankles in chains embedded into the wood. When they released him, he writhed again, but the energy seemed to seep from his weary body. He lagged against the cuffs, his body slack and boneless.

  “Come, Dag-ra! Accept our sacrifice!” the priest cried to the heavens.

  The sunlight streaming in slowly grew until Maal had to cover his eyes with one hand. A burst of illumination warmed his skin before it finally lowered. When he removed his hand, he gasped at the vision before him.

  A man—no, a god—stood upon the stage. He was huge, towering at least seven feet tall or more. The priest was dwarfed at his side. Two large horns grew from the god’s forehead and curled back over his long, golden hair. Another staff rose thick and heavy between his muscled thighs. The god was powerfully erect and larger than any Maal had seen before, not that he’d seen many unclothed against the elements. Dag-ra’s naked body glimmered, his very flesh appearing slightly golden, but then he was the god of the sun.

  The burning sun… that scorched the earth and left it fruitless.

  The awe he originally felt shifted. Anger roiled through Maal’s veins. This was the god they prayed to… laid sacrifice to… and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. They had nothing.

  Maal had seen picture books from the beforetimes… green plants growing from the earth. Vast gardens that looked like paradise to him, filled with all the food they could eat. Oceans crossing over wide expanses, never ending. Now there was no water… the fierce sun burned it all away.

  He stared at the god, wanting to hate the male.

  Yet even in his anger, he couldn’t ignore the desire now throbbing within his veins.

  The male was magnificent in every way, just as the others had said he would be. Maal licked his parched lips, suddenly hungering for what he did not know.

  How could he feel desire when death stood at the fray?

  “Mighty Dag-ra! Please accept our sacrifice,” the priest intoned.

  Dag-ra glanced around the stage, a dissatisfied expression crossing his face. A handsome face, Maal noted and tried to ignore.

  “This is what you give me?” Dag-ra asked, his voice booming and echoing around them.

  The old priest dropped to his knees quicker than Maal would’ve thought possible. The man urged them all to do the same, glancing around the semi-circle with a beseeching look on his face and a hand pushing down on the air.

  Slowly, the others began to kneel around him. Maal’s anger made him hesitate—and drew the god’s attention. A fierce look swept over the god’s face; seconds before heat swept through Maal’s veins.

  His cock thickened with a mighty need he didn’t understand.

  The god met Maal’s stare, his eyes glowing with a fiery light.

  “On your knees, boy,” his grandfather spat.

  Maal slowly descended, kneeling as the others did on the sand covered floor.

  “We sacrifice this man to you, mighty Dag-ra,” the priest murmured. “This thief among men. He threatened the well-being of our tribe, so we hand him over for your divine punishment.”

  Silence fell, but for the thief’s quiet crying.

  “Divine punishment? Is that what I have become to you?” the god asked, his vo
ice echoing still. “The executioner of your wayward flock?”

  “W-well… if one is to be sacrificed, should it not be one… one who has sinned?” the priest asked.

  The god scanned the room once more, his stare falling on Maal for a few moments before returning to the priest. “You receive the same blessings you give.”

  The priest frowned. “Have we not pleased you, Dag-ra?”

  The god turned to stare at the thief, shaking his head. “What you’ve done to yourselves,” Dag-ra murmured under his breath.

  Maal lifted his head some, curious as to what the comment meant. He watched as the god turned to Amon, the thief, and lifted his hand. A mighty, golden whip appeared in his hand, illuminated like the very light of the sun. It lashed out and crossed Amon’s bare back.

  Amon screamed, his whole body arching with the blow, but it sounded off to Maal’s ears. By the third or fourth, Maal realized… the screams were of pleasure. Amon writhed under the god’s whip, his back bowing.

  Maal felt sweat break out over his forehead as he watched the give and take of pain and pleasure… and suddenly wondered what it would feel like to endure the lash of that strong whip. He frowned, not understanding why he’d think of something so deadly and consider it erotically intoxicating. Yet with each strike of the whip, he felt need pumping in his veins… and by the end of it, he was near to moaning himself from the visions dancing in his own mind.

  When the whip disappeared from Dag-ra’s hand, part of him was thankful. Much more and he would’ve made a fool of himself before the others. They already thought less of him because of his age…

  Dag-ra swiped one large hand through the air and Amon’s chains disappeared. A bench of some type had appeared below the thief, and Amon was now bent over it, his bottom high in the air.

  Maal’s mouth dropped as he watched the god move behind the man and angle that huge cock against Amon’s ass. Dag-ra turned, meeting Maal’s stare seconds before sliding deep inside Amon’s body.

  The thief cried out… again, in utter pleasure.

  Maal closed his eyes to the sight, afraid the erotic show would prove too much for him. He tried to ignore the growing moans and pleas for more that poured from Amon’s lips, but it was impossible. A bright light appeared, so bright, he could see it behind his closed lids.

  Look at me.

  The whispered words in his mind frightened him. He opened his eyes and met the god’s stare. The fire of the sun burned there again and threatened to singe everything he gazed at. Heat swept over Maal, and his cock grew even harder.

  The light grew, circling Dag-ra. He pumped his hips into Amon, all while holding Maal’s stare.

  Maal felt tingles all over his body. A tightness grew deep within, and he felt something growing.

  Dag-ra roared, the very building shaking around them from the colossal sound of it. Maal’s body tightened, and he felt an explosion. He came, his hips jerking involuntarily. A moan rose from his lips, but was drowned out by the echoing sound of the god’s fierce cry.

  And then the light was gone.

  Dag-ra stood over Amon’s limp body, his still hard shaft swaying between his thighs as he looked down at the thief. What appeared to be golden seed slid from between Amon’s thighs and also dripped from the head of Dag-ra’s cock.

  Come to me, Maal.

  Dag-ra again met his stare, a smile crossing his lips.

  If the god had been able to speak into his mind, did Dag-ra know he’d come? Heat spread across his face as he felt the wetness at the front of his pants. He lowered his stare before spreading his hands to cover the spot, afraid it might be seen.

  Come to me.

  Maal whipped his head up and saw the lust in the god’s blazing eyes. His body still throbbed with need, to have this male inside him. He felt every muscle tighten with the need to step forward and bow to his god.

  But he fought it.

  An angry frown crossed Dag-ra’s face before the male disappeared.

  Three long tables appeared the instant he was gone, laden with food. A cow and a sheep stood between two of the tables, and there were five large oak casks off to one side. Shock filled him at the sight of so much food.

  “This is a better bounty than last year,” one of the men, A’gust, said, his eyes wide as he stared at all the food.

  They all stood there, staring for a brief moment, the dark powder around their eyes only making them all look even more stunned at what stretched out before them. Everyone rushed to the tables, shoving food into their mouths. A few others went to the casks and poured what looked to be both water and wine.

  Maal stood frozen, unable to consider the thought of food. His stare remained on Amon’s body, lying lifeless on the dais and the spot the god had just held.

  “Come, Maal,” his grandfather demanded.

  He glanced at the tables before walking over… one was filled with a feast of cooked meats and vegetables. The other two were laden with cheese, eggs, flour, vegetables, salt, huge chunks of meat, honey, and vinegar. They were piled high and threatened to fall to the ground.

  He’d always wondered where their food had come from. The land was barren, yet they always had enough. Barely enough. He often went to bed with his stomach growling, but he had never completely starved.

  Not like Amon.

  “We now feast on the abundance, and each takes home as much as will last for the next few days from the cooked foods. The rest goes to the storehouse, to be meted out little by little for the next year,” his grandfather said. “Until Dag-ra comes again.”

  “It will rot,” Maal said.

  “No,” one of the women, Mera, said. “We will salt the meats and pickle the vegetables that cannot last long. We’re well schooled in how to stretch this bounty to last.” She smiled at him. “Maybe this year, I will show you how.”

  Maal’s stare went back to Amon. “And what of him?”

  “Once we’re full and have our strength back, we’ll bury him in the ground,” A’gust said, his mouth full of food. He paused, chewing more before guzzling something from a tankard. Beads of dark red raced down his dirty face seconds later, showing it was clearly wine. “Think nothing of him, Maal. He stole from what little food we had left. Had we not caught him red-handed, we could’ve starved.”

  Maal glanced at A’gust’s rounded belly, wondering if some took more than their fair share.

  “Did he truly deserve this?”

  Mera glared at Maal. “He knew the punishment for his theft and did it anyway, not considering the welfare of the tribe.” She spat on the floor before taking another bite from a leg of something, he did not know.

  “You heard those moans of pleasure sprouting from Amon’s lips,” A’gust joked. “He went out happily, I assure you.”

  “How do you know?” Maal asked.

  “Eat, boy!” his grandfather said, giving him the evil eye. His hand swung over, offering Maal a tankard of the wine. “Eat! And stop thinking too long on things you cannot control.”

  Everyone else quieted, too preoccupied by the feast before them. Maal pushed his tangled emotions aside and took the tankard from his grandfather. He took a sip, his thirst too strong not to. The taste was sweet against his tongue, so he took more, moaning from the pleasure of it. He then brought a small chunk of meat to his lips. The second he chewed the first bite, he sighed with pleasure.

  The food was ambrosia from the gods…

  In fact, it was.

  After months of little to no food, a fierce hunger took over… and Maal devoured his fill and then some, just like the rest of tribe. His stare kept drifting back to Amon, knowing they sacrificed too much for their meal.

  Before he could make a glutton of himself, he stopped, watching the others gorge themselves. Tears stung the backs of his eyes, his stomach knotting in sickness.

  What have we done?

  * * * *

  Later that night, as he lay in bed with a full stomach for the first time in a year, he stared thro
ugh the crack in the shutter. The moon hung heavy in the sky, the night calm. Most evenings, the sand storms raged, the cold and warm air clashing, but this one was clear and lovely.

  As hot as the daylight hours had been, it was chill at night. A fire roared in the main part of the house, just under the loft he claimed as his. Scavengers, they burned whatever they could find to sustain them. Once, the world had been covered with people like them, with towering cities, lush green landscapes, and anything they wanted…

  The bombs had come, or so the elders said… and wiped much of that world away. What was left was shattered and broken.

  They used whatever remains they could.

  Below, his grandfather snored, his belly full, too. Maal knew the sound meant the old man was deep into sleep and wouldn’t hear anything, not that his ears worked well when he was awake.

  Maal struggled with what he’d seen that day. He replayed the whole ceremony in his head, from start to finish, trying to make sense of the myriad of emotions he’d felt while there. Everything about it felt wrong. He understood that Amon had done wrong. He’d stolen a box from the storehouse, filled with the food they all needed to survive. It could’ve been the death of them, so he shouldn’t feel the guilt he did now.

  Yet he did.

  And that guilt was only intensified by the lust he’d also felt.

  When the visions returned to him, this time he took Amon’s place on that dais in his mind. He clenched his lids tight, the sight of that golden whip coming out to cross his back making him arch off the blankets he lay upon. His cock grew long and thick, just as it had when he’d watched the sun god taking Amon.

  Maal reached under his tattered clothing and gripped the base of his cock. Even there he felt fine grains of sand. It hurt slightly on the first stroke, but by the second and third it was better. He’d brushed away all the specks by the next stroke and fought back a moan at the pleasure of the sensation.