A Hunting Ritual: Part 1

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She did not know what the paste was made of, but she knew it tasted sweet, and she loved it when he licked it off her body. The thought alone made her knickers wet. She wanted to have a taste, but knew that he would know… he always knew; and she did not want to spoil his ritual by disappointing him.

 

The ritual was a monthly occurrence. His fingertips glided over her skin, leaving lines of burnt-orange paste in curves and straight lines, arcs and swirls. On the full moon, he would ***t her naked body, their only clothes being small strips of fabric to cover their sexual organs. Candles dotted the hard soil around them, dry leaves and twigs blanketing the earth beneath their feet. Then she would run away while he kneeled with his head down. His hands finished wiping her forehead, kissing the symbol he had drawn on it. He would say a few words, in thanks to the feast he would now hunt. She stood and turned and dashed away, all at once, with a beating heart of pure lust and ***. Then he would leap from all fours and chase into the night, after her. He knelt beside a candle,

“Thank you, for your body which I will now taste. Thank you, for your submission, and your undying loyalty to satisfy all parts of my mind. Thank you. For being mine.” His eyes opened.

 

She huffed loudly despite her best efforts to remain quiet, and her chest heaved for breath as she ran for her life. She stumbled into a tree, hands against its bark while she stared up at the moonlight. It illuminated the thin dark lines on her face, contrasting to the lightness of her pink lips, and her golden hair was already dirty from having tripped into the dirt just now. She had to get as far away as possible. She saw a clearing up ahead, hoping that with more even-terrain she might gain some s***d.

A growl from behind, her hackles rose, and she darted as fast as she could into the moonlight.