The Bear
His head was spinning from the cocktail they’d given him, and he was bound, naked, on a St. Andrews Cross, with his arms and legs splayed wide. His rigid cock was throbbing painfully, seemingly being yanked upwards with each pulse by the full moon overhead. There must have been something in that chalice… The night was dark save for that moon and the torches that lit the circle around him. Suddenly, he heard drums, and jerked his head up, alarmed. It was starting. The drums were pounding a slow, menacing rhythm, and getting closer. Grim-faced figures paced into his view with slashes of red, ochre, and yellow splashed across them, looking like vile spirits to his befuddled eyes. They marched slowly around him, in lock-step, drumming steadily, until they had circled him twice, then stopped …