Ballsac the Barbarian 6.1: The Ritual of Bukk’ake.

I’m hard at work compiling my Ballsac stories into one cohesive book and have discovered some “missing chapters” that I want to share with you all before continuing his experiences with episode 11. And yes, I do plan on continuing. In the meantime, please enjoy this new offering which takes place chronologically between episodes 6 & 7.

Queen Titilli sat on the throne of Kunt, trying to look regal. Only last week she’d been a slave of the Necromancer. Then Ballsac had freed the city-state from the tyrannical grip of the Necromancer and proclaimed her Queen.

He could have made himself king, and the city would have gratefully bent the knee to him, but he’d insisted that she was more suited to the task of ruling.

The barbarian would have been easy to fall in love with. Handsome, sexy, and a skilled and thorough lover. But he’d warned her he’d be leaving soon, so Titilli guarded her heart while she welcomed him into her bed as often as she could tempt him.

But it was time to move on, and that meant initiating the Ritual of Bukk’ake.

The city-state of Kunt had two rituals designated for a new monarch taking over the city: one for a king and the other for a queen. Each was overseen by the Priestess of Bukk’ake.

If a new king was chosen, women of the city-state that desired to be his queen would strip naked before him and petition the king to be part of his harem. Four would be chosen by the king and he would fuck them all, one at a time on the daven-alter in the temple of Bukk’ake, and after each copulation would pull out to ejaculate on her belly. The Priestess of Bukk’ake would then read the portents in the spilled seed to tell the future path of the kingdom. The women became the core of his royal harem, with greater power and a life of ease for as long as they wanted to continue in that role.

If a new queen was chosen to rule, the ritual was somewhat the same. Men of the kingdom would strip down and line up for the queen’s inspection. She would choose four that looked the most virile and attractive to her. Then she would lie on the daven-alter as the four men spilled their seed upon her breasts and belly. Then the priestess would again read the portents in the semen. Afterward, the men would become the queen’s official consorts and protectors.

Titilli thoroughly enjoyed the lineup of naked men that paraded past her, erect cocks fully on display for her. Her new kingdom, even with its population depleted by the Necromancer, still boasted men of incredible musculature and good looks.

Twenty men vied for her favors and whittling down the field to four was a challenge she enthusiastically embraced. Decorum allowed her to touch the men, and she most certainly did, testing their muscle density, the firmness of their behinds, and the length and girth of their…equipment.

Two found the examination more than they could contain and were instantly disqualified.

In the end she settled on an elf, a human, a satyr, and a dwarf.

The elf, Lingolust, was a woodsman of renown in the kingdom, with a lieth, finely-toned body that called to be touched and caressed.

Gregory, the human, was a blacksmith by trade, with broad shoulders, bulging arm muscles and a piercing stare. And when the man smiled, Titilli found her heart melting.

The satyr was an easy choice. Marcum had the longest and thickest cock of any in the group, and Titilli couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to curl up against all that fur in bed at night.

Bangor, the dwarf, took her by surprise. Taller than most dwarves, there was something of the savage about him that spoke to her. On a base level, he reminded her of Ballsac, not that he looked anything like the handsome barbarian. Still, her core clenched at the thought of the dwarf taking her on a long, rough ride.

Her choices made, the royal court adjourned to the Temple of Bukk’ake. The priestess, Shamhein, a crone of advanced years but a sharp mind and a cunning twinkle in her eye, smiled as her gaze swept the four males. “You have chosen well, my queen.”

Beside the four chosen males, only a few select royal advisors were permitted to view the ritual. She’d chosen Ballsac and Shar’dali, plus two of the older townswomen she’d elevated to council positions. Many of her male counselors seemed disheartened at her choices, which only made her more determined to keep them out of the ritual.

Casting her royal robes aside, Titilli laid back naked on the soft daven-alter. The leather covered cushions were comfortable and the priestess placed a gold-tasseled pillow under her head.

“By the Great Oracle,” the priestess intoned, “let the ritual begin.” Sparks flew from her fingertips — whether it was magic or merely for show, Titilli hadn’t a clue.

The four naked males, erections in hand, approached the daven-alter, two on each side.

She reached out to grasp the two closest, Gregory’s and Lingolust’s. The elf’s cock tip already glistened with precum.

They were allowed to touch her during the ritual and all of them did.

The human and elf both took the opportunity to cup her breasts. Gregory ran a thumb across her nipple eliciting a groan of ecstasy from Titilli. Bangor cupped the apex of her thighs and ran deft digits along her slickening channel while Marcum dragged his impressively huge cock along her stomach, circling her bellybutton with the damp tip.

She slid her hands along the hardened shafts of the human and elf, feeling them pulse with desire. “That’s it, boys. Give it to me.” She couldn’t wait to be bathed in their hot cum.

Bangor pushed a finger inside her. “You’re so wet, my liege. I look forward to the day I can fill this with more than my finger.” His other hand continued to pump along his impressive cock.

That day would come soon, but it was not this day. “As do I, my friend.”

For now, they all knew their task, but she could sense a rivalry developing between the four. No one wanted to be the first to come. Eyes glazed and teeth were clenched in determination.

It was time for her to move things along.

She elbowed up and took the tip of Lingolust’s cock into her mouth, sucking gently and letting her tongue lash the underside.

The elf’s eyes went wide. “My queen, I’m going to…”

She pulled back in time to witness his first hot jet of semen. The thick ribbon splashed upon her breast and the viscus liquid ran in rivulets down the mound as each grunt added another pool to the peak.

As the elf wrung the last of his seed from his wilting shaft, he bowed and backed away.

“Elves,” Bangor snorted, probably forgetting that Titilli was herself an elf.

But she took no offense, as the dwarf clearly knew how to manipulate a woman’s nethers. His deft fingers stroked and prodded her most intimate area eliciting moans and gasps from the queen.

Titilli now had a free hand, and she wrapped her fingers around the dwarven cock. “And how long will you last, master dwarf, once I turn my attentions to you?”

“It will take more than that,” he snarked, but through gritted teeth.

She released him to cup his balls and gently squeezed.

“Oh, not there,” he gasped as his cock exploded, pumping jizm like a fire hose onto her belly. As he finished, he huffed. “Your beauty tests my limits.”

She chuckled. “I look forward to more testing.”

He bowed and backed away. “As do I.”

Marcum caught her gaze. It was easy to see the legendary stamina of the satyr was being sorely tested. Satyrs were closely tied to sexual rites, and felt others orgasms, both male and female, on a psychic level. “I am undone, my queen,” he said gasping. “Please accept this gift.” He unloaded a huge stream of cum, pumping load after load onto her torso.

He bowed and stepped back to join the elf and dwarf.

Titilli shifted her gaze to Gregory.

He smiled broadly down at her. “I accept no victory from this. You gave the others your attentions, leaving me to better concentrate.”

Now, she worked her hand on his cock harder, gliding along the hard shaft. “Or perhaps I saved the best for last.”

She hadn’t, but let the man gloat a bit.

Precum leaked and dripped onto her breast from his cockhead, and she gripped his shaft harder as she pumped.

His balls tightened. He was close. Still, she couldn’t resist just one little taste.

She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, and pulled a string of precum into her mouth.

Rich, musky, and salty. A flavor she could savor. She was able to move her lips away barely in time as he added his seed to the others running across and down her body.

Each of them offered her something special. Moving forward, they would be hers for the taking whenever she desired, at least for as long as they also wanted to share the position of Consort and Protector of the Queen.

She looked forward to having each of them as her lovers…but not that night. Ballsac would be leaving soon, and she wanted at least one last night with him. “Go now and pack your belongings. Quarters have been reserved for you in the castle to keep you close at hand. You are now my consorts and protectors.”

Gregory knelt. “My sword will forever be at your service.” He shot her a wink.

Lingolust knelt next to him. “And my bow.”

The elf would take things more literally, and probably did not catch the double entendre of Gregory’s pledge.

Following suit, Bangor also knelt. “And my axe.”

Marcum conjured up his panpipe. “It appears I shall have to acquire a weapon.”

Titilli smiled at him, glancing down to his still half-erect organ. “I can assure you that your pipe is all that will be required.”

After the males had left, Titilli laid back on the alter, reveling in the afterglow as the priestess strode forward to read the portents.

With such and intense experience, could the future of Kunt be anything but positive.

But Shamhein frowned as she surveyed the dripping spunk. “Oh no. This can’t be right.”

“What?” Titilli asked.

“It says that our city will once again be assailed by the Necromancer.”

“That’s impossible,” Ballsac proclaimed, striding toward them. “I killed him. We burnt his body to ash.”

“Still, the portent is here.” The priestess pointed to Titilli’s belly. “It can be interpreted no other way. The Necromancer will return.”

Titilli rose from the altar, fear clutching her heart. “What can we do?”

“I will seek out the Great Oracle,” Ballsac answered. “She will know how the Necromancer has survived and how we can finally kill him.”

Titilli nodded. “But not tonight…you promised.”

A sensual smile spread across his handsome face. “No, not tonight. I will send my crew ahead to make preparations for an ocean voyage to the Oracle’s island home, then I will be all yours for the night.” He bowed to her and left.

She buried her fears. They had time. And she trusted Ballsac to know what to do. Tonight, she would give him an evening to remember.

There’s much more coming in Ballsac’s story. Stay tuned for all the action.

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