The Unconventional Family Ritual
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The Ritual_(0) free porn video
This is a very different type of Romance tale. I had a great deal of trouble deciding in which category it should be posted. After reading several of the recent stories in each genre, I decided it is, after all, a story of a strange romantic interlude in a culture and time that many of us will never know.
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WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story.
All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2016 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Theata and Karl had just seated themselves at their crude table for their evening meal. Their heads were still bowed as they finished their short prayer of thanks for their meager meal when Theata heard the light knocking at the door– no, not knocking, a tapping.
She looked across the table at Karl whose head was still bowed. She knew who it had to be. There was only one person in the village who would tap at their door like that. It was Magona, the wise woman, tapping at the threshold of their hut with her cane.
Magona would never knock on a door. She wouldn’t even touch a door or a door frame. She said that doors held out the evil spirits of the night and if traces of one were still clinging to the door, it might enter her. So instead, she tapped on the threshold or the stone path outside the door until someone from within opened it.
As Theata rose to answer the tapping, Karl looked up suddenly. His face showed his unasked question. “There is someone at our door,” she said softly, hoping that her anxiety did not show in her voice. There could be only one reason that Magona would come to their hut at this time of year.
“One moment,” she called out as she walked the short distance to the door. Her hands shook slightly as she reached to opened it. Outside on the simple path, Magona stood stoop-shouldered, leaning her weight on the gnarled branch which she used as a cane. A smile creased Magona’s wrinkled face as she held out something in her hand, obviously expecting Theata to take it from her.
As Theata accepted the small, cloth bag of seeds, Magona spoke softly but with an unexpected force in her words. “You have been chosen,” she said firmly. “The time will soon be here. You must be prepared.” She then turned and hobbled away. Her heavy cane thumped against the ground with each labored step.
“Who is it?” Karl’s voice asked from the table.
Theata did not answer. Instead she walked silently back to the table and placed the small bag next to her plate. “I have been chosen,” she said softly as she placed her hands in her lap and bowed her head.
Karl said nothing. He looked at his wife for a long moment. Then his eyes went back down to his plate and he returned to eating his evening meal. After a few moments, she picked up her fork and began eating slowly.
Neither of them spoke through the meal or as Theata went about washing the plates and straightening the kitchen for the night. Karl sat by the fire and busied himself with his knife, carefully fitting a new handle into a mattock he would need to break up the stubborn soil of his field.
He finally broke the silence and said, “It’s time for bed.”
Theata stood in the kitchen and took a very deep breath. “I have been chosen,” she replied firmly, but very quietly. “I must check to see if it is time.”
Karl grunted a response and pulled the bed down from it daytime position folded up against the wall. “I will wait for you,” he said flatly. “If it must be, it must be,” he added as he shook the straw mattress to even out the lumps– and perhaps dislodge any mice that may have taken up residence during the day.
Theata stood at the open back door of the hut looking out at the fields and the night sky. Again she took a deep breath and stepped out, barefoot, onto the ground. Their hut was alongside Karl’s fields. There was a path worn from the back door to the small barn and then beyond the barn into the fields themselves.
She walked carefully to the center of the field. The early spring ground was cold against her bare feet. After standing for several moments looking up at the sky, she reached for the buttons on the front of her dress and began opening them. Soon the dress was lying alongside her on the ground.
She laid her crude brassiere carefully on the dress. It was old but expensive to replace and she didn’t want it to come in contact with the ground. Her loose bloomers soon followed, folded carefully. Had it still been winter, she would be wearing heavy stockings to keep her legs warm, but the snows were long melted. There was no need to wear out the stockings when her legs would stay warm enough under the long dress.
Once more she look up at the sky. “I have been chosen,” she said just loud enough so that she could hear her own voice. Then she lay down on her back on the ground.
A few moments later, she again spoke to the sky. “It is not yet time,” she said. Then in a slightly louder voice, she added. “I will return tomorrow.”
She then rose to her feet, picked up her clothing, and walked nude back to the hut.
As she entered, Karl spoke to her from the bed. “Is it time?” he asked.
“Not for many days,” she answered. “Maybe as much as a week.”
He answered her with a grunt, but then held the covers open so that she could slip beneath them. The warm bed felt good against her body which had been chilled by the cold ground.
The next night after it had gotten dark, she left her clothing in the kitchen and walked barefoot and naked to the center of the field. She smiled when she saw that there was a large patch of ground that had been raked smooth. Small rocks and large clods of dirt were scattered in a rough circle around the patch of smooth ground. Karl had found time during the chores of his day to make things more comfortable for her as she did what she must do.
When she returned to her bed, Karl again asked, “Is it time?”
Again she answered, “Not yet.”
This went on for nine days. During the day, Theata would sit in her chair in front of their hut and sew. The light was good there, and she could watch the green starting to return to the grass of the pastures. A sweet smell told her that one of the trees or bushes nearby was putting out flowers.
At night, Theata would return to her smooth patch of ground. She would lie watching the stars– or the clouds– until her back was chilled and almost painful. Then she would rise and say to the sky, “Not yet,” and walk back into the house.
On the tenth day, when Theata rose from the ground, she did not say, “Not yet.” Instead, she said, “Tomorrow.”
And when Karl asked again, “Is it time?” she answered “Yes.”
Again his only answer was a grunt, but he held her especially tight as they slept that night.
In the morning Karl did not go into his fields. Instead he walked the two miles into town. When he got to the small village, he stopped the first man he saw on the streets and said, almost in a whisper. “Theata was chosen. She says it is time.”
Karl continued to walk around the village. Some men had already heard and nodded to him as he approached. He continued his walk until he was sure that the whole village knew. Then he began walking out of town in the direction away from his fields. He stopped to speak with each man in the fields as he passed. A few old men were working around their huts or their barns when Karl stopped to give them the message.
When he had walked three miles he stopped and scanned the nearby fields. No one was visible, so he turned and began walking once again toward town. He waved a greeting to the women sitting at their doorsteps attending to the mending or sewing or whatever else needed the light of day. He noted with satisfaction that there were no men in the fields. They had all left to tell others who did not live near the road. In a few hours, everyone would know.
As Karl walked through town he also waved in greeting, but here there were men present. He was careful to notice whether or not they nodded at him as he greeted them. All seemed to have heard the news, so he continued out toward his own hut and fields, stopping now as he had done on the other side of town.
When he reached his hut, he waved to his own wife, Theata, as she sat in her chair doing women’s work in the sunlight. She returned his wave. There was an anxious smile on her face that he could not quite read. She was a strong woman, but she had been chosen and that is hard on the strongest woman.
He continued to hail the men working in their fields or near their huts. A mile past his hut, Karl once again scanned the fields and found them empty. He turned and returned to his own fields. He spent the day clearing rocks and breaking up the many clods of dirt which had formed over the winter... and, of course, preparing Theata’s patch of ground.
He raked it carefully to be sure that all stones had been removed. He even used his hoe to break the earth to a depth of several inches so that it would be slightly softer. He did not know that Theata was watching him from their hut as he knelt on the ground and ran his fingers through the soil in the special patch, searching for anything that might cause her pain as she lay on the ground.
Theata gave a very deep sigh. Her eyes were full to the brim, but tears had not yet started to spill down her face as she prepared supper for the man who had so clearly shown his love for her.
Supper was the same meager fare that peasants had each night, especially after having come through a hard winter. But somehow, it was different. The slices of cheese were a little more even. The crude boiled mush was a little tastier. Perhaps she had used a touch more of her hoard of hard-to-get spices.
After supper, Karl and Theata sat looking at each other across the table. Neither spoke. Neither knew what to say. They both sat silently watching the twilight turn to darkness. The fire had been extinguished except for the coals kept in the fire pot for morning. No candles had been lit, so the darkness invaded the hut.
Karl could barely see Theata in the starlight as she stood alongside the table and carefully stacked her clothing on her chair. She looked over at him silently, then gave a weak smile as she reached up and undid her hair.
She never left the house unless her hair was “up,” that is, held close to her head in twists and loops that were pushed into place with combs and pins. Only her husband had ever seen her with her hair “down.” Now the combs and pins were lying on the table, and her hair was cascading down her back nearly to her waist.
After another weak smile to Karl, she turned and walked out the back of the hut. She was trembling slightly, but it was not from the cool of the night. It also was not really from fear, but she was afraid.
She knew what it meant to be chosen. All of the women of the village knew what it meant to be chosen. She was no longer young, her twenty-fifth birthday was long behind her. Until Magona had appeared at her doorstep, she had hoped that this would have passed her by. But now she was walking naked into the center of her husband’s fields.
She stood for a moment smiling, looking at the soft, smooth ground which Karl had so carefully prepared for her. She did not smile as she looked at the thick wooden stakes which Karl had driven into the ground. Those also were part of the preparations.
A rope was tied to each of the stakes. The ropes were soft, not like the heavy hand-woven ropes in Karl’s barn. These were Magona’s special ropes which she had left for Karl to use... and return.
Karl had already tied the special knots. All of the women of the village knew the knots that they must possibly tie one day. Few men knew, but the knots were already tied. He must have gone to Magona to learn the proper way to tie the strange, complicated slip knots that would trap her hands and feet. And the more simple slip knots that would hold the ropes to the stakes.
Theata had dreaded the thought of kneeling in the dirt to tie those knots that would hold her fast. Maybe she had said something to Karl once in their years of marriage and he remembered. Men show their love in strange ways.
Theata sat on the ground between the lower two stakes. She placed the noose of the slip knot over her ankles and pulled it tight. Karl had tied things properly. The knot was tight, but did not hurt or cut off her circulation.
She then tied the blindfold around her eyes. It and the small bag of seed were all that she had carried into the field.
Lying back, she felt for the ropes which would hold her arms. Some of the women practice putting their hands through the special knots. She had not. It took her several tries with each hand to get her hands through the loops properly so that she could pull them tight.
All was quiet now, except for the clicks and chirps of insects and frogs. The noise of the nearby insects suddenly stopped. She could hear footsteps approaching. It would be Karl. The husband was always the first– and the last.
Karl knelt between his wife’s legs. He said nothing, but instead he leaned slightly forward and began sliding his hands over her breasts. At first, there was no response, but as his hands moved more and more over her body, and as they began to slide across the hair which hid her sex, Theata began to breathe more deeply and squirm her body against the ground. Occasionally, he would lean in further and kiss her breasts or abdomen or lightly suckle on one of her ever- stiffening nipples.
Karl continued until Theata was moaning softly. Then he stood and stared at the sky. He knew that standing just over the hill where they could not be seen– and where they could not see Theata– was a line of men. All of the men of the village who were old enough to be men and young enough to still act as men were standing in that line.
“Gods of the sky and of the ground,” he said loudly, “look down on us this night.” Then he walked back to his hut.
A few moments later, the first man walked over the hill. His naked skin was very pale in the starlight. He knelt between Theata’s legs as Karl had done, but he did not touch her. Instead he placed his hands on the ground on either side of her body as he leaned forward and aligned himself with her glistening slit.
Theata gasped slightly as he slid into her. He slowly pushed himself fully in. Then he looked up at the sky and repeated Karl’s words. “Gods of the sky and of the ground, look down on us this night.”
He paused for just a moment continuing to look at the night sky. Then he began thrusting rapidly into Theata. At first, she passively received him, but soon she was pushing back slightly against him until he quivered and made a soft grunting sound.
He remained motionless until he was fully limp. Then he looked once more at the night sky and said loudly, “See what we have done.”
After pulling himself back to his knees, he stood up and walked back over the hill. As he reached the top of the hill, another naked man passed him walking toward the chosen one who was staked out on the soil.
This man repeated exactly what the first man had done. The words were the same. The actions were the same. The only difference was the speed at which he thrust once he was within her.
Theata thought, but could not know for sure, that it was a much younger man. She was much more sure that the next man was older. He grunted as he knelt on the ground and she could hear him working to bring himself to hardness so that he could enter her. This might be his last year to participate in the ritual.
So it continued. At first she counted the number of men, but then she either lost track or decided that it was not something worth knowing. In either case, she now tried to forget each man as soon as they had cried to the sky and walked away.
After a while, she could feel a puddle beginning to form beneath her. As she rose to join each man in their ritual dance of spring, the sticky fluid would flow up her back. She could feel it now almost beneath her breasts.
Another man now knelt between her legs. Again, he said nothing, but she felt a strange tugging at the ropes. And then she felt hands on her breasts. It was Karl. He had released the ropes. The ritual was almost over.
Karl repeated the motions which had prepared her for the first man. But she no longer needed to be prepared. Even if she were not creating any lubrication of her own, the accumulated spunk of however many men there had been made her very slippery.
Karl was not preparing her to begin the ritual. He was helping her to end it. She knew what she must now do. Karl moved his hand to between her legs to stroke her very lightly. Her breath was beginning to become more rapid. A soft moan was starting from her lips. Her hips were beginning to thrust upward into the air. Now she was not thrusting to help a man finish quickly, she was thrusting because there was a growing need within her. A need that the gods needed to hear her satisfy.
Karl continued until her moans grew louder and louder and her hips were raising well off the ground. Then, after squeezing her breasts one last time, he placed his hands on either side of her body and entered her.
He remained motionless, but Theata continued to thrust against his body as he called out to the sky, “Gods of the sky and of the ground, look down on us this night.” The intensity of her movements increased even further as he began to thrust against her.
Karl had pulled the slipknots which held the ropes to the pegs, so Theata was now free to move her arms and her legs. As her moans turned to almost screams, she wrapped her arms tightly around his back and pulled his chest down toward hers. His strength was greater than hers, so she ended up pulling herself slightly off the ground as her body began to shake and quiver. A long, loud, moaning scream announced her orgasm.
Karl gave a final strong thrust and spurted inside her. She wrapped her legs around his and pulled herself upward to force him tightly inside her as she continued to shudder and moan.
Finally both were lying still. Karl lowered himself so that she was once again lying on the ground. Once she unwound her legs from around him, he pushed himself up to his knees and then stood above her. He looked up at the sky and said loudly, “Gods of the sky and of the ground, look down on us this night. See what we have done.”
There was a loud cheer from the other side of the hill and the combined voices of the men gathered there rang out, “See what we have done. See what you must do.”
Karl then reached down, picked up his wife in his arms and walked slowly back to their hut. When they reached the house, he placed her carefully on her chair at the table and began removing the ropes which still dangled from her arms and legs. He then helped her stand and used a rag and a bowl of warm, soapy water to clean her back and legs. He handed her the rag so that she could wipe between her legs.
After he had dried her with their best towel, he once again picked her up and carried her to their bed. As he laid her carefully on the straw mattress, he said softly. “The ritual is over. We should all have bountiful crops this year.”
He slid into bed alongside her and held her tight. He said, “You did well. Tomorrow I, and all the men of the village, will be planting our fields.”
He stroked her face lightly and said, “And I will plant your bag of seeds in the special patch. When they are harvested in the fall, you can refill the bag and return it to Magona for next year’s chosen one.”
She snuggled back against him and murmured, “It is time.”
They both then fell fast asleep.
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END OF STORY
(Some interesting historical comment from the author follows)
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Historical / Scientific Comment from The Technician:[i]
What is described in this story is “cultic re-enactment.” What this means is that people would act out what they expected the gods to do. In ancient days, it was believed that “Father Sky” gave fertility (or impregnated) Mother Earth. The rains of Spring were a sexual act between Father Sky and Mother Earth. If they didn’t get it on, the crops would die, so people cultically re-enacted the desired sexual act with people standing in for the gods.
Most people laugh at these peasant superstitions but....
At the end of World War II, American agronomists swarmed all over war-torn Europe helping the local population return battlefields and bunkers to farm fields and barns. They also had as their mission to teach the people “modern” farming practices.
To their surprise, many of the small, very rural farms were doing quite well. For some reason, this was especially true in the very remote areas. These very poor peasants were somehow able to out-produce their more educated countrymen in the more populated areas.
It took quite a while before anyone would actually reveal the secret, but one agronomist eventually gained their trust and was told that their success came because they “practiced the old ways.” That meant that they planted by the phase of the moon, etc. etc. etc. It also meant that before a man planted his fields, he and his wife would make a midnight visit to the field and make love on the bare ground.
As unbelievable as it sounded to the agronomists, those who followed this specific practice– made love on the ground before planting– had significantly better crops and fewer seed failures. Then someone– probably a female– figured out the science behind this phenomenon.
It is simple. If the woman is on the bottom, she is the one with the most skin on the ground. Wheat-type plants need 45 degrees Farenheight (about 7 C) to germinate. Corn and other plants need 50 F (10 C). 45F/7C is also the point where the body can tolerate the temperature of the ground without shivering. It’s not like lying on a beach, but most people can handle it. What the sex in the fields ritual was actually doing was delaying planting until the female was willing to lie on the cold ground– which also meant that the ground had reached the temperature the seeds needed to germinate before they rotted.
The gods were not watching, but because Theata agreed to be the chosen one and went out each night to test the temperature of the ground, the crops would germinate before the seed rotted in the ground. -->
Tammi
- 15.11.2022
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