It was the wee hours of the night when the entirety of the tribe, all two hundred or so of them, crept out of the walls in holes carved out the previous evening. They used tiny saws and knives to hallow out all but thin parts of the floorboards on the wall, cleverly concealing them but making them weak enough for quick emergence when needed. The group, hundreds of men and women, clothed in loin clothes or nothing at all, spread across the living room like a living carpet of tiny lives. Without words, they signaled to each other, each knowing their part that they must play. 

The first group went to the giant, rectangle portal door, the entrance to the living space itself. The dozen or so of them swiftly moved across the hard wood floor, the carpeting, and the various shoes, sneakers, sandals, and other instruments of crushing, lined up near unto the door. Each of them carried bottles of a vigour colored a dull and pastel green, the color of muted grass. Some of them carried hooks and ropes. Those with hooks and ropes started the arduous climb up the door, between the crack where the wall and door connected. 

It was a difficult climb, fraught with danger, but none of that seemed to matter to them- with silent strength, some faltered, but they kept on, some primal force driving them to push. They had no fear of death, not now. Not this close to the ritual.

The ones on the climb finally reached their destinations and fanned out over the top door jamb, while those on the bottom aligned with those on the top. Then, on some sign known to them only, each person at the door, both on bottom and top, uncorked the dull green elixir they carried. The concoctions started to glow wildly, and then, driven with ancient magic, shot out of the bottles, and traveled up from down, and down from above. The lines of green met in the center of the door, and expanded, widening and forming cross bars. The lines of green seemed to solidify and harden into emerald gates, and when finally, it flashed with a finality and suddenly disappeared, leaving only the faintest green glow upon the door. 

Those who participated in the magic knew the purpose of the incantation- the green crossbars put a seal of sorts into the door. It kept out foreign material and was originally intended for protection- nothing got into the portal without express permission from those who set the spell to work. It was used for a far more devious purpose than protection, however- the spell worked both ways. That meant that both the tribe and their quarry were trapped inside the apartment.

No escape. 

As if on cue, those who are stationed round the door see that all across the apartment, similar flashes and growths of green sprout up and settle in the windows, ensuring that windows to the outside were inoperable as well.

No escape. No chance for survival.

They started to come back down from the high places in the apartment and gather in the central living space. One or two of the descending tribesmen fell to their deaths, but they forced down their fear and fell silently to their deaths. 

After clean up, another group broke off from the main and flew away to another corner of the apartment, while the majority of the tribe started to haul out planks and staves of rough hewn wood from the holes. These boards and poles were ancient-  motley wood that was gathered over many cycles and many rituals. It was out of convenience, not necessarily need, that these planks were hewn out of old wood found in grass plains or fallen trees. Most recently, the wood was found from pillars in walls of homes and buildings. They took just enough to sustain them, but not enough to compromise structural integrity and give away their existence. These boards and planks made their way over to the entrance of the Virgin's sleeping chamber, with silent and practiced footsteps.

The second break off group headed for a large box in the room where the Virgin did her washing. On the cold tile, they saw a large white basket with myriad clothing and coverings inside of it, along with a large triangle, which they knew from observation, would heat up and somehow make the Virgin's clothing flat. 

The box, a large metal rectangle on the wall with a few metal tubes coming out of it, was above a humungous white cube that made terrifying noises when activated. The machine was not currently active and that made it several orders easier to climb. Some climbed between the cracks, others climbed a convenient object located between the wall and the washer. The object, known by them to be used with the aforementioned large, hot triangle, had two sides- one a soft cushion and linen, another a white metal grate, crisscrossed and able to be scaled with ease. 

They made their ascent without any trouble, and soon consulted with one another on how to best move up to the  rectangle and finish their task. They finally decided upon throwing a rope over the tube protruding out of the box. Over and over they tried to make the connection, some throwing the entire length of rope, some attaching what weights they could. One or two lost their ropes entirely and sat down in shame, mocked by their peers. Finally, one got it hooked over the tube, and was subsequently retrieved and bolted down, forming a base on which they might climb. 

A few of them shimmied up the rope with crude metal axes in hand. And then, finding themselves confident in their choice, they began to hack away at the metal tube below them. They knew that they did not half to hack all the way through- in fact, they knew it might've been disastrous had they- they heard tales of shocks like lightning going through and stopping the hearts of those who drew to close to the wires. All they needed to do was get rid of the outer metal sheath the wires resided in, which they did.

Once the rope was secured around the wires, each of the axmen slid down the rope back to the great white cube, and, with a great, solitary effort, caused that all present on the cube should pull the rope wrapped around the wires.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice. 

On the fourth, a few of the wires ripped out.

Five times. 

Six.

On the seventh, the whole of the wires ripped out in a great shower of spark and ozone.

Around the apartment, electronics started to blink out- the microwave, the Virgin's personal computer, the fridge, and, unbeknownst to her, the small alarm clock. The red numbers blinked out, and she snoozed on. 

However, when the lights went out, the rest of the apartment's residents knew that the time was now. All of them, the two hundred or so, gathered in the central part of the floor near the entrance to the Virgin's  room. There, they met with the priestess, the withered old woman who spoke to them thus, religious fire in her eyes.

"Behold, mine children- we art upon the brink of our salvation. In yon chamber lies our sacrifice, for which we hath labored so long. In yon chamber lieth our souls and health. In yon chamber lieth our feast and sacrament with the gods."

"Praise be," came the chant, solemn and deathly.

"Let us now enter in yon room, thou Sanctus sanctorum, and commence the ritual. Taketh her restrained! Taketh her unawares! Bind ye her with cords and make her holy! Be ye started!"

The chant became full now, and and then, on a beat known only to them, they silenced, solemn in their task once more.

Quietly, they moved as one towards the door, and, one by one, slipped through the bottom of the door.

----------------------

As the all marched towards the bed of the Virgin, some of them realized that this was the first time they had seen her. What they saw was this: a young woman, laying supine on the bed in her cold room, wearing nothing but a lacy fabric covering her breasts and womanhood. Her inky black hair strewn about over her pillow, longer than fifteen or twenty of them head to foot. Her mouth slightly open, shivering, telling of a deep but troubled sleep. They durst not speak praise, for it was forbidden that they should speak pre-ritual, lest they frighten the spirits away. In stoic, silent attitude, the tribe of a couple hundred marched on towards the bed, passing the blankets that had been thrown on the floor in the middle of the night.

The first obstacle was to actually get on the bed itself; not an incredibly difficult task, but one that required a lot of planning- they had to bring all of their ropes, equipment, and boarding up their with them. They started up the wooden bed posts, sticking their knives in for leverage. Up and up they crawled, higher to the platform of the bedding. The first one to arrive raised his arms up in solidarity, praising the goddess and himself for his efforts. The celebration was short lived, and he quickly started to help others come up onto the bed, some jamming stakes into the wood to form a rope ladder to the top, facilitating coming up to the bed.

As more and more of them came up, one of the assistant priests tip toed his way up to closer to the Virgin’s face, up near the pillow. He stepped very lightly onto her hair, feeling the softness of it.

“Surely,” he thought to himself, “this is the Goddess’ own avatar. Feel their softness of heaven in her very strands!” He was quite pleased with himself when he successfully navigated to not a few inches to her face, but again, wasted no time in his duty- he reached into his pack and pulled out a small leather satchel, carefully untying the strings around it. He reached in and pulled out a handful of blackened dust, and threw it towards the Virgin’s face- she sniffed, and cringed her lips and eyes, as if irritated- for a second, the priest thought that all was lost! But, much to his and his comrades’ relief, the cringing subsided, and the powder seemed to enter her nostrils fully. The effect was instantaneous: the Virgin’s eye softened, her breathing became more deep, and her mouth, so sadly contorted into sorrow, flattened and her lips as a line.

The powder was a success, and the Virgin fell into a much deeper sleep.

So deep, in fact, that the instant the priest gave an appointed hand signal, the first of the tribe began to climb up to the giantess’ stomach and chest, and began to help others.

The next phase of this ritual was to begin now.

Ropes were uncoiled, metal rings and pulleys were unpacked from backpacks, and a dance so practiced was set into motion.

First of all things, they had to unskew the Virgin: she was slightly crooked and unaligned with the bed, her head being in the middle of the top of the mattress while her legs and feet were slightly towards the edge of the bed. So, it would be a simple matter of mover her waist, legs and feet to stick straight down the middle of the mattress, aligned with her head. They did so by tying ropes around her waist, and with nearly nine tenths of the tribe, moved her waist to the center. They did so again with her legs, binding them to the knees and pulling each in turn to the center- this did not take as many folk to accomplish. Lastly, her feet were dragged over to the center, her toes with the slight pastel lacquer pointing down. Fully aligned, the binding could take place.

Her wrists and arms were first bound into position tightly with thrice-wrapped rope, and these would be fixed once set into place. Tribesmen coiled rope around her wrists, elbows, and around just outside the scapula, and then tied those ropes together. Heaving together and dragging the arm up, the tribesmen wrapped the rope around the wooden bed post several times, and then tied it off and secured it in place with metal rings. They did the same with the other arm.

The legs, however, would require special attention. Since the legs had to be kept open, they required a special pulley system that allowed them to adjust the spread of the legs to allow ease of access. They began with her knees, wrapping them in the rope and then pulling the rope to the sides of the bed, where it was strung through a metal ring staked into the wooden frame. Her ankles were bound in similar fashion, but this time not being stringed through the ring at the bottom of the frame. Both rope ends were then pulled through the pulleys and attached the bedposts near her feet, allowing such for only a few men to pull and completely move that leg open. Done on both sides, the Virgin could have her legs opened as wide as possible with only a dozen tribesmen.

Sigdaw volunteered to help bind the Virgin’s feet up- she had this overwhelming desire that she couldn’t explain, and she found herself moving very fast and very intently to the Virgin’s foot.

When she arrived, she could not have told you how she got there, but instead, only stood there struck in awe. She came to her senses right in front of a towering sole of flesh, white and soft-looking. Sigdaw was glued to that spot: she looked up and down the sole many times, admiring the white ring that surrounded the bottom of the heel, the color differentiation between where her weight frequently was pressed and where it was not, the soft, wrinkly skin of her instep, the unearthly smoothness of her footpad on the ball of her foot, smooth like a river-worn stone and callous from years of walking, and toes that could have only been described by Sigdaw as majestic. Each of the Virgin’s toes, long and thin save for the big toe, reached into the air and curled slightly down. Because of that slight curl, the Sigdaw could see the tips of her toenails, white and opaque from the lacquer on top.

She felt that tinge again, that pull in her loins. The pressure in the lower stomach that denoted anticipation and excitement, the feeling that something was close and soon and now, regardless of danger or thought of the hereafter. 

She felt warm, sensuous. 

She felt wet. 

Another person, seeing the woman stand there and gape, punched her in the chest, a motion for her to move, to act. She rubbed the now bruised flesh, temporarily halted from her sexual imagination running wild from her, and hauled her rope up to shoulder. Making the appropriate knot, she motioned to one of her compatriots and, through unpracticed motion, asked which toe to bind. The man looked at her inquisitively, and then simply pointed, still staring at her, to the second to smallest toe. She wasted no time in making her move- with a skilled gait of one who climbs much, Sigdaw threw the rope up and in only one attempt, roped around the toe. Pulling hard to shrink the coil and to secure her way up, Sigdaw set herself up in position to ascend up the fleshy tower that was the Virgin's foot. Securing both of her own feet on the Virgin’s heel, Sigdaw climbed and climbed.

She was beside herself- she wanted nothing more than to take off all of her clothes and stay in contact with the warm flesh she ascended. She couldn’t get it out of her head- this was the very foot that had turned Ureat into a flat paste. He had barely time to scream before his lungs were forced out of his body, the air along with them. Barely time to see her before they popped and spewed out their clear fluids all over the rubber sole. Barely time to feel the anxiety and terror of death before his stomach burst out from the wall, contorting his face into the most exquisite pain. She had murdered Ureat, unintentionally, and she had not even known it.

Sigdaw’s pussy was practically oozing white discharge. She needed a fuck. Bad. Right as soon as she was done with her work.

When she arrived at her destination, the Virgin’s middle toe, she reverently climbed up, ready for her devotion. She hoisted her rope up, and passed it along to a man who was gathering ropes attached to toes. He, in turn, attached them to the main pulley and rope, arranging them in such a way that they would spread when pulled, further easing the opening to the Virgin’s womanhood when commanded so.

After she was done, she hopped down the leg and pulled a man aside with her. They enjoined each other on the spot, right below the ankle of the Virgin, two onlookers silently watching.

Even as the rock stiff, hot cock slid into the wet mess that was her pussy, Sigdaw was not satisfied. Within thirty seconds, the man exploded inside her, and she could feel his come spray onto her insides. She knew they wouldn’t quicken- they never did. Not until after the ritual.

The man emptied his load into her without so much a sound, but he bit his lip. Sigdaw remained passionless, unsatisfied. Even when she was dragged back down and forced to copulate with three other men, one of them nearly choking her in her throat, she was still not satisfied. She needed something else. Someone more.

Someone big.

When Sigdaw did get up and spit out seed from her throat, she gazed back up and the Virgin. How she wanted her. How she craved her. To be caressed and cherished by her.

To have her life crushed out from under her.

There she would find her passion, her joy. Her sexual fulfillment. Somehow.

---------------

When all the ropes were secure, the Priestess arrived on the bed. She looked around and surveyed the area- her priests had motioned to her that perparations were complete and that anytime they would be able to begin the ritual.

And then, being the primus allowed to speak, she croaked,

“Let us awake the Virgin, and begin.”

And so they did- the same priest who had thrown the powder to the Virgin’s nose returned once more, this time being not-so-careful as to awaken her but stepping on her soft hair. He glanced nervously over to the priestess, and then over to the workers who were now hauling up planks to the bed to construct the platform. In fact, he had seen that some workers had already begun the work on the base of the platform, a square on each side of the Virgin’s neck.

Arriving at his place, he took out yet another sack from his purse. He tilted over the sack carefully, and placed a bit into his hand. He was about to blow when he realized that he wasn’t satisfied with the distance to the face, and so, gripping the power tightly, he waddled once again over the closer to her face.

With a mighty breath, he blew the dust all over the face of the Virgin, who was still in her deepest of breaths and silence. The powder suffused in the air, some being blown away while the rest was sucked into her nose.

Now they waited.

The Virgin’s breathing became shallower and lighter. Her eyes less sunk. Her mouth tighter. She was awakening. Finally, she opened her eyes and saw what was all around her. So shocked was she, that even as her green eyes screamed in absolute terror, her mouth simply fell open. She had seen a tiny person on her chest, and she had felt them all around her.