Priestess

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A Bronze Age priestess channels the Earth Mother.
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Gray3
Gray3
2 Followers

Tarue stood nude before the full length mirror in her cell. The mirror was perfect of surface, evenly silvered. It was the work of several skilled, careful craftsmen to cast such a device. It was an expensive luxury. She would have marveled at when she was a novice.

For a Priestess of Worship it was a necessity. She must always have a clear, unclouded view of herself in order to reflect the glory of the Goddess before her worshippers. The mirror represented truth, not vanity.

At the age of 30 summers, Tarue was no longer the svelte girl who had taken her first vows to honor the Earth Goddess at 14, when her menses began. Now she was in bloom, full of the power of the Goddess.

She had matured physically through her noviate, and was the most beautiful of her class. Her breasts had filled out like summer melons, the nipples long and firm, the areola broad and brown and sensitive to the touch. The rounded orbs defied the pull of the full earth.

Later, as a Sister of Access, she had borne a child, a joyful time among the sisterhood. She nursed the little girl for a year. In that year her breasts had settled lower on her chest. But they were even bigger, and she knew the worshippers were stunned by the perfection of their shape, their sensual smoothness, the firm fullness of them.

Her hips had broadened. She looked critically at herself in the glass. She was in almost perfect proportion, the High Priestess often told her. She was as tall as most of the men who worshipped at the shrine of the Goddess. Her shoulders were broad, as though to support the bounty of her breasts. Her skin was pale and unlined. Part of that, she knew, was that she was a little heavier than when she was 20 summers old.

Her black hair fell down her naked back to her rounded buttocks. She brushed her hair each night, some hundreds of strokes, which helped both the hair and the tensioning of the muscles that supported her chest.

Her eyes were black and snapping, under eyebrows that were unplucked but carefully trimmed at the edges to subtly shape them. Her nose was prominent. One day far in the future, after the Romans spread their civilization this far East, it would be called a Roman nose. She opened her eyes a bit wider, to ease the little lines that tried to appear at the outside corners.

Her lips were lush and the color was that shade of red which must have some artifice but appeared natural. Her mouth was wide, her teeth white and perfect. Her cheekbones, indeed all the planes of her face, loved the light. She was in that ageless zone when a woman is full and complete and still sculpted.

Her legs were straight and full and rounded, up to the holy junction. A thicket of black hair covered her mons, and, growing thinner, crept up the sweet rounded belly almost to her navel. The pubic hair curled down to the tops of her thighs. The sisters would never have seen a need to cut back the very glory of the One they served.

"I thank the Goddess," She murmured, satisfied that she was worthy to continue to serve in the ritual of worship.

She scooped up a heavy, plum-colored robe and wrapped it around herself, suddenly modest. It was not meet to admire oneself for the gifts of the Goddess. She slipped on a pair of simple, leather sandals and walked past a hanging curtain into a hallway. She made her way to the Temple of Individual Worship. A bell rang the hour, which was one glass since the sun had disappeared. The breeze off the plains was cool. It was not the holiest of hours, but it was still propitious.

She entered the candle-lit chamber with no ceremony, but the three persons already there stood at once, to honor the Goddess she represented. She nodded to them.

The Worshipper was a hero, granted the rare opportunity to be in a full priestess and not a Sister of Access. Indeed there were only three Priestesses of Worship at a time. And now there were only two, as Sister Maune had recently passed away. The only higher rank was the High Priestess, who Tarue thought was the most beautiful woman in the world although she had lived 50 summers.

The hero was a soldier's cloak and sandals cross-bound up his calves. Tarue remembered that he had performed some marvelous act of courage, facing a host of enemies with his bronze sword, saving many of his comrades. He was a fearless warrior who had risked his life for those of his men. Now, however, he looked rather like a frightened boy.

Tarue settled onto the stone dais at one end of the rectangular room. The wall behind was blue, decorated with semi-precious stones that cast back flickers from the candlelight. The dais was not cushioned. All the softness of the worship ceremony was to come from the humans locked together. The priestess spread her cloak, which was at least thick enough to block some of the chill. She was naked, open, proud. She was not the Goddess. But in some sense tonight she would become the Goddess.

Miko, a novice, knelt beside the boy who was to sacrifice his essence to the Goddess. As Tarue disrobed, Miko dropped her own cloak. She was wearing a white loincloth, flaps fore and aft which would not bar investigating fingers. She was there to prepare the worshipper.

The warrior stared open-mouthed at the brunette beauty on the dais as Miko took away his cloak and untied his sandals. He had worn a short kilt under the cloak. Miko's hand magically disposed of it. His member was strong and full and big. Miko took it in her hand and looked admiringly up to the worshipper – who still stared at the priestess – and then took his maleness into her mouth and pumped him.

Preparing for the act heightened Tarue's senses. She could hear the slurping of the girl's ministrations to the worshipper. Miko, she thought, was not subtle. And then again, the priestess thought, neither am I. Already I am wet with the Goddess's juice.

Behind the girl Miko and the hero stood Ceeil, a larger girl, blonde and high-breasted and round-bottomed. Ceeil had also dropped her cloak, although her part in the ceremony did not come until later. Ceeil was the daughter of a priestess and a stray Northerner. She had inherited her mother's empathy and her father's coloring.

Ceeil reached out and stroked the warrior's back, her hand continuing down until it cupped and kneaded his firm bottom. Don't get over-anxious, Tarue prayed silently. He is for the Goddess tonight.

Miko rose and smiled at the soldier. She kissed him on one cheek, and Ceeil kissed the other, a curiously sisterly sharing of the power of his manhood. Then they turned him toward the dais. Ceeil whispered directions in his ear. He nodded jerkily and moved forward.

He's only a boy, thought Tarue. She smiled encouragingly. A faint smile finally spread over his face. As he drew near, she raised one hand and brushed it first against his hand, which was out-reached to her, and then fondled his arm, and settled her hand against his shoulder.

She spread her thighs, not wantonly but in anticipation of his need.

Slowly she guided him down to the shrine between her legs, the place the Goddess had given all women to allow the proper worship of the Earth Mother. He moved his face gently between her thighs, nuzzling the smooth perfection of her skin.

Oh Goddess, he shaved, thought Tarue to herself. Oh wonderful young man. "Lick there," she instructed him. "Both sides. Up the ... yes, and now the little nubbin.... Oh yes there, so gentle, give the Goddess your loving tongue and hmmmmm...."

As a Sister of Access she had learned the human arts of love, thrilled to the release of orgasm, of giving her partner everything in a single gushing moment. Then one night she experienced the fulfillment of the Visitation, the sacrament of the Lady, the in-dwelling of the Goddess at the moment of climax. Thus she became a Priestess of Worship.

And now, perfectly prepared, and with this brave and innocent warrior to honor, she felt the beginning of the transformation. Her body began to fill with the power of the Goddess. The power stretched against the inside of her skin. She felt everything, the warrior's powerful arms wrapped around her legs and his hands clutching, softly, at her ass. She could feel even the ridges of his fingerprints as he tried to touch and memorize her perfection.

She felt his tongue as though it were a wand of power invading her inner wetness with its own moisture, licking her to a froth, tasting her, worshipping her. Her nipples pointed hard at the stone ceiling, and off toward the broad sky beyond.

Now she was full of the Goddess, her senses stretched to the horizon, feeling at the same time bound by the gravity of the earth and supported by it.

"Fill me," she commanded. "All of you." The warrior reared up, his lips dripping her honey. He crawled awkwardly atop her and gently put the head of his penis at her vulva.

"FILL ME!" she cried. And his thick and warm manhood slipped past the fleshy gates of her garden, roamed up the wetted path, and at the end of a long thrust rammed into paradise. "AAAAAGGGG," cried Tarue. She was as full as she could ever remember. Time slowed, as always during the connection with the Goddess.

Tarue was the container of the Goddess. The human woman was the Earth, her cleft open to be pounded by the lightning and flood of the Sky God. Within her foamed the creation of all things soft and yielding and blood-filled and vulnerable.

"Praise Ishtar," moaned Tarue. "I am Thee." The Goddess has many avatars, and Tarue worshipped her as Ishtar, although she knew the Goddess was a great mystery and the avatar was only a way to let Tarue understand a little of her power. Now that power infused Tarue's body, and the understanding was physical and emotional and not at all intellectual.

Her enhanced empathy scanned through the young warrior, sensing his strong body. She was part of him. She felt his fear that he would not be able to fulfill his duty, that somehow he was unworthy of this act of worship. He was, as Tarue thought, a frightened youth despite his military prowess and his great physical gift, which she wanted to keep within her forever.

The young man rabbited against her loins, growing more distracted as his fear of failure grew. Tarue whispered into his ear, using language that the Goddess herself seemed to impart to the priestess.

"My bull, fill me, my ram, thrust, thrust, I need you, fill me with your hot seeeed...."

The young man's pulse slowed to a steady gallop, he took a great breath and blasted, shot off like a mighty catapult, fired round after round of male essence into the womb of the Goddess. He was all men, worshipping the female, filling she who holds creation within her body.

Tarue felt every jet of semen. The Goddess let down warm female juices to mix with the essence the worshipper had given up. The Goddess inhabited the priestess. Tarue could not separate herself from the Goddess at this moment. The spendings were holy.

One moment Tarue stretched over the plains, felt the sky ploughing her earth, accepted the power of the male to touch her own immortality. Her womb was connected to the future, wherever it might lead. A moment of complete surrender, and then the Goddess slipped away, leaving Tarue satisfied and humble.

Miko helped the young, dazed worshipper to rise from the dais and then knelt before him, using tongue and mouth to clean the ambrosia from his body. His penis began to harden again. He looked down at Miko and smiled. Mouth full, she smiled back with a promise in her eyes.

Tarue watched, still dazed herself, still limp and lying on her cloak. She was still aglow.

Miko will never become a priestess, Tarue thought as clarity of mind returned. She is perfect in her physical skills. But she will never experience the Goddess in such a way. Best to release her from her vows so that she may become a wife to some good man. Perhaps to this young man whose penis so held her fancy at this moment.

Ceeil was still naked, her blonde fullness fevered from watching the ceremony, her inner self adew from the nearness of the Goddess. Her blonde pubic hair seemed brown between her thighs, so awash was she with passion.

Ceeil's eyes were bright. "When you urged him on," she whispered, "you spoke in some arcane tongue I've never heard. But he understood."

Tarue smiled and smoothed the blonde head with her hand as Ceeil devoutly knelt between her legs to lap up the spendings of the Goddess.

Tarue leaned back, Ceeil's mouth bringing her body back to a human rhythm, settling the priestess back into real time with the flickering of the acolyte's tongue.

Tarue would have a worldly orgasm now, and then she would gladly arouse and satisfy Ceeil in the same way. Ceeil had the spirituality to go beyond the human experience, to channel the Goddess and bring Her glory to the worshipper. Ceeil would be a Priestess of Worship one day, as Tarue was.

"Lick me, darling," Tarue said. "Take my love. Give me yours."

Gray3
Gray3
2 Followers
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AphroditesBelovedAphroditesBelovedover 15 years ago
Tarue, Ceeil and Miko are sexy!

very erotic and sensual!

DaniellekittenDaniellekittenalmost 16 years ago
Very nicely written

And an interesting story of the ancients.

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