The simply rhythm of the beating drums woke Akakia from a deep sleep, still entwined with Liana, their breasts pressed together comfortably.

The Spellcaster and the Headman burst into the Sisterhouse, gradually escaping the spell of the Herb of Enlightenment, their eyes glowing red in the dim light, their bodies still shaking with the after-effects.

"We have chosen," the Headman intoned in a serious manner, at odds with his inability to stand up straight. "We have chosen Akakia for the Giving. Prepare her immediately. The Keesha have spoken."

The Sisters stared silently as the leaders of the tribe shambled erratically from the house, grabbing anything they could reach for support. As the door cover flapped against the frame, and the sound of the Spellcaster's mumbled chant slowly quietened, they all turned to Akakia, sitting up suddenly on the straw mattress she was sharing with Liana, her mouth open, but silent for a change.

"Come ladies, we have work to do," the eldest Sister stated firmly. She knew they were all a little disappointed not to be chosen. She was a little confused herself, unsure of the honour. She also knew that under the disappointment most of the women would also be relieved, and they all knew they had a lot of work to do.

Opening the sacred Giving chest carefully, the Sister pulled out a sacrificial robe - a simple full length spotless white garment - and held it against the new Chosen, after standing her up.

"This will fit Akakia. Congratulations, Sister. We all are most jealous."

This was enough to spur the Sisters into action, and they all leapt from their beds and began the preparations. The house was suddenly a blur of naked women and girls, heating water and assembling both oils and aromatic powders for the Chosen One.

Between dashes to and fro, each of the girls stopped to congratulate Akakia, and to kiss her chest between her naked breasts, then her neck, and then her lips; a traditional way to obtain good luck.

Akakia just stood silently and let things happen around her. She was slowly led to the tub, and made to sit down in the warm water, as her skin was scrubbed cleaner than it had been her whole life.

Then without warning the scrubbing became a gentle massage; the cleaning a caress; the contact with her skin a charged greeting. Akakia found herself aroused by all of the attention. Hands caressed her whole body, and eventually someone reached between her legs, and wiped her gently with a cloth. Two other girls lightly took her nipples into their mouths, and soothingly sucked as her hair was combed, and her temples rubbed just the right way.

As the girls attached to her breasts began to stroke her nipples with the very tips of their tongues, and the cloth between her legs was replaced by a number of gently curious fingers, her hips began to thrust gently in the tub and her breathing became shallow and erratic. The Sisters looked after her as tradition demanded. Her perceptions shrank to an erotic universe only the size of her body, their questing tongues tasted every part of her, fingers touched deep within her most intimate places. The stroking between her legs quickened in the slippery cave, and the mouths on her nipples explored more ambitiously as The Chosen was suddenly overtaken by an explosive climax, her legs clamping shut on the caressing fingers, her body screaming silently with the near-pain of it all, and then slowly relaxing back into the tub.

The Sisters slowly began their subtle movements once more, and it was not long before her body again quivered with the rigidity of an even more intense orgasm, quivering helplessly in the tub, spilling water on the floor, still not speaking; her body saying all that was necessary.

The Sisters slowly moved away from her now limp body, and continued with the preparations, dropping scented oils in the water, and plaiting her hair in an ornate pattern. Suddenly she was being helped from the tub, and rubbed vigorously with a set of soft dry cloths, her skin glowing a little from the friction and the heat surrounding her. As soon as she was suitably dry, the Sisters took turns to anoint her with their best oils, and then she was dusted with flower-scented powders.

Before long, she stood again in front of them, clean, aromatic, innocent and still silent. She couldn't seem to form the words she wanted to say, and anyway her mind was still reliving the events in the tub. After a minute or two, the senior Sister remembered about the robe, and placed it over her shoulders, and encouraged the Chosen to slip her arms into the sleeves. No sooner was the robe tied in front than the Headman returned, a little steadier on his feet now, and demanded that Akakia follow him.

Taking a small drum from the folds of his clothing, the Headman walked slowly back outside, Akakia following, unquestioning and still in shock. The Spellcaster met them outside the doorway, and the trio walked off into the darkness in time to the Headman's little drum. The Sisters called out a farewell to the Chosen One from inside the house, and the scattered members of the tribe headed back to bed, with the exception of Akakia's mother, who sat by the fire, proud but weeping quietly for the loss of her little girl.

As the two old men and the shocked Akakia walked slowly from the trees to the Valley of the Giving, the darkness was beginning to give way to the morning. The headman stood beating the drum in the still air as the Spellcaster tied Akakia's hands firmly to the ropes left for the purpose, her arms stretched out tightly, on a slight upward angle, leaving just enough slack to allow slight movements. Testing the bonds carefully, the Spellcaster finally nodded to the Headman, and he immediately ceased beating the drum, and came and placed his hand on Akakia's forehead.

"Chosen Sister, you have been given the highest honour our tribe can convey. Our future rests in your hands. Do not disappoint us. The tribe demands this of you." He stepped away from the girl, and was immediately replaced by the Spellcaster, who extracted some flower petals from his robe, and sprinkled them on her, chanting quietly as he threw them, pulled her robe open, and then also stepped back.

The Headman and the Spellcaster walked around, gathering small sticks from the damp ground, piling them neatly upwind from the helplessly cold Chosen One. Once the pile was of sufficient size, the Spellcaster removed a small leather bag hanging from his hip. He tipped a grey powder from the bag over the sticks, chanting quietly to himself. As soon as he was finished, the Headman removed a similar bag from his own clothing, and tipped a darker powder of the sticks in the same way, saying nothing.

In the early dawn light the pile of sticks began to smoke, and then to glow. The men bowed over the small fire and inhaled the drifting smoke. It took only a few lungsful of the fumes to have an effect, and as Akakia watched silently, shivering in the cold, both of the old men opened their robes and revealed their sudden erections.

As they flickered in the unsteady glow of the fire, they each took themselves in hand, stroking steadily as they stood before the fire. For a start, Akakia was just surprised. Why were they behaving like this? It was at that moment that the fumes reached her nose, and she was no longer curious. Instead, she was desperate. She wanted to assist them, to have them, to take them.

Akakia called to the men, and they ignored her, sliding their hands up and down solid shafts, concentrating on what they were doing. Before too long, the Spellcaster grunted, thrust his hips instinctively, and climaxed, his semen bursting from his body and flying through the air to land mostly on the flames. The seed hissed and cooked on the fire, and just as the evidence was beginning to disappear it was joined by an even stronger ejaculation from the Headman, who groaned and pumped himself with better aim. He held himself proudly erect for a moment, and then he seemed to return to his normal self, and his body relaxed as they both stood before the fire, cocks drooping in their wrinkled hands.

The two old men turned and hobbled back to the village without saying another word.

Akakia stood tied in the early dawn, cold, near-naked, in the path of the smoke, and deeply aroused. She wished she could move her hands a little. She wouldn't have hesitated to attend herself at this point, but she couldn't reach. Her nipples were rock hard with arousal, and her nether lips were swelled and dripping despite the cold.

She called to the old men to come back, promised them anything if they would please help her. She gave no thought to escape, rather wishing she could touch herself in desperation.

Her mind was muddled, and images flashed before her eyes constantly. The sting of the smoke, and the difficulty in breathing were insignificant compared to the raw, urgent need.

The beat of a drum took some time to burn its way into her head, but eventually she stopped swaying for a moment to listen. Perhaps the Spellcaster was returning to service her? But no, the beat was wrong. The tone of the drum was different. More importantly, she realised in a corner of her mind that the sound was coming from a different direction.

Akakia turned her head to the side, and could just make out the group of people marching towards her. Men and women were there, in groups of two, aside from one man who walked with his hands tied behind his back.

The entire group were dressed strangely. Rich colours and different fabrics from those she had been used to. The group looked happy and chatted among themselves as the trailing drummers moved them along. They sounded strange too, their voices raised in words that made no sense.

The group walked up to Akakia, turned to look at her briefly, not at all surprised, and then gathered closely around the smouldering fire, breathing in the fumes as the old men had. It didn't take them long to be similarly affected, as soon the whole group were falling to the ground, tearing the strange clothing from their bodies, dropping the drums, and beginning to writhe and struggle against each other, rutting recklessly on the cold grass.

Akakia had the presence of mind to realise two things. The first was that these people were different in another way than she had earlier noticed. Instead of the dark hair that the Keesha were fortunate enough to have, these people had strawlike curls, both on their heads and between their legs. The second thing she noticed was that the lone stranger who had his hands tied had been standing close to her, breathing deeply of the aromatic smoke.

His large body was pale, as was his hair, and he wore only a short robe. She found herself immediately attracted to him, though she realised she also wanted every one of the people grunting to orgasm on the grass, and would happily have found enjoyment with a three branch had she been able.

In any event, the man turned to her, his hands still tied, and spoke. She didn't understand a word he was saying, and in any case her attention was held by something else. As he spoke, she could see his erection. It peeked shamelessly from between the folds of his robe.

The cock was large and hard. She could see it clearly, and even though she had never been with a man, she wanted it, and him, with a completely irrational desire.

She struggled in the ropes again, not to escape but to take him, to have him, without further delay, but she was unable to loosen any of the ropes.

After yet another attempt to speak with her, he walked up to her, past her. Akakia was horrified until she felt him. He was standing behind her, his voice quietly talking gibberish in her ear.

She pressed against him, not understanding but wanting to encourage him. He didn't need further permission, and he pushed back, his hardness against her buttocks as her open robe lifted behind her.

Then, without further warning, he bent his legs, and moved forward again until Akakia could feel his cock between her legs. She parted her knees and he lifted the Chosen One a little off the ground as he straightened and slid firmly inside her.

The position was awkward for both of them, but under the influence of the hypnotic smoke neither of them cared. He thrust, she moaned and responded by moving as best she could. They somehow found a rhythm that worked, and he was able to slide in and out of her, bringing cries of pleasure from her as she was impaled over and over.

It couldn't, shouldn't, didn't last long. The big man was as desperate as she was and as his movements pushed her past the point of reason, he reached his own release. As Akakia wondered at the feel of a man finally inside her, she shuddered and shook above him. In return, he smoothly pumped her full of foreign seed, as he grunted to a halt behind her.

The naked pile of orgiastic tribespeople by the fire were slowly coming to their senses as well, having exhausted themselves in a drug-assisted series of orgasms, swapping partners carelessly, sometimes working solo. The fire was burning down, along with their passions.

As the strange people slowly climbed groaning to their feet, Akakia noticed a small dark woman running over to her. She recognised the woman, she realised with a shock. She had the dark hair of the Keesha, and she was calling out to Akakia in words she understood, though they sounded distorted somehow. The woman, Leesta, had been the Chosen One two years ago. She ran naked up to Akakia and kissed her on the mouth.

"Akakia, I never guessed it might be you."

"Leesta, I'm pleased to see you. I never thought to lay eyes on you again."

"Of course not." She turned then, and spoke to another man in what must have been the strange tongue she had heard earlier. He nodded and turned to his clothing. Leesta turned back to Akakia. "I'm sorry. That is Karmin. He's my man now."

"A man? But you're a Sister."

"Oh, you have much to learn. I was a Sister. Then I was Chosen, as you have been. You too have a man."

"I do?"

"You do. Did you not notice this large person behind you? Within you?"

Akakia blushed. "Of course. He..."

"Mated with you."

"Yes. Mated."

"You are unpleased with him?"

"I do not think I understand, Leesta. It was the fire, was it not?"

"It helped. Do you like him?"

"I do not know him."

Leesta turned to Karmin and must have told him to hurry up. He ran back with a large knife. Akakia was no longer at all sure what might have happened, and she stiffened as he walked close. Leesta took Akakia's face in her hands and spoke carefully. "Akakia, relax. You are not in danger. You are with friends."

"I know none of these strange pale people, Leesta."

"Not yet. But they are family to you. Tribe."

Karmin cut ropes while they spoke, and suddenly Akakia began to collapse as the support was removed. That is, until she was caught in strong arms before she hit the ground.

She turned to face the man, and his recently released arms held her up.

Leesta laughed quietly and then spoke clearly to the Chosen One. "Akakia, meet Tarfel." She spoke to the man in the strange tongue, but used the same names. They had been introduced.

"Leesta, what is this? What is he to me?"

"What? He is your man, Akakia."

"He cannot be. Am I not to die?"

"No, Sister. You are not. You are to have his children."

"His children? How?"

"Why Sister, just the way you did then. With his seed in you."

"That brings children?"

"Not always, but yes. I have two myself. And..." She patted her stomach. "... Chosen morning is a lucky time to be with child. Perhaps another has started."

"I... I am greatly confused."

"It matters not, Sister. Kiss him."

"Him?"

"Tarfel. Your man."

"He is mine?"

"As you are his."

"I might...," and she spoke thus knowing that only Leesta could understand, "sooner have his seed again."

"Soon enough, Sister. Come. We need to take you home. Remove that robe. You are of this tribe now. Have this coat of colours." She spoke to Tarfel again, and then turned back to Akakia. "I told him he needs to look after you. He does not want his child to become cold."

They trudged home over the cold ground, chattering in small groups. Akakia was quiet, trying to sort things out in her mind. That was when Tarfel took her hand, and smiled warmly at her.