Priestess and Warrior Ch. 01-06

Chapter 1

The sounds of the market place begin to fade into the cityscape's nightly routine. The loud rhetoric of the merchants shift into the joyous sound of dinner parties and brew induced slumber. She steps out the back door of the temple and proceeds with her daily chore of emptying the chamber pots. Dumping the contents into a gutter that runs the length of a small cobble stone alley.

Appearing from a side street 3 men approach from the market place. She pauses to evaluate the strangers. It's not unusual to have some poor souls down on their luck come asking for the Goddess's charity. However their boisterous laughter and crass humor caught her attention. As they approached she could see they were foreign traders. If she had to guess slave traders from the south.

"Gentlemen, I had no idea this city had such attractive whores." The leading trader spoke to his companions.

As a Temple Priestess for the Goddess Innan-Ashtur she worships the Goddess of sex through carnal actions. During the holy days the city is quite pious and her role for rituals and blessings held in high regard. She was just recently a prime conduit for a solstice ritual, seeking the Goddess of sex and war, Ishtur to end the prolonged bloodshed on the western border. Between the holy days the Temple conducts business as usual catering to clientele from all over. Being a port city hosting many travelers she takes no offense to their language and misidentification.

Placing a hand on her hip and exposing her leg out from under her linen dress she solicits, "Would you like to make a donation to the Goddess?" She gestures to a donation plate resting on the door step. As is the way with worshipping Ishtur, all donations large and small are of equal value. "Any amount you can spare would be appreciated." She remarks hoping to establish the difference between a brothel and a temple. There is no set price for services.

The thinnest and shortest of the traders steps forward and grabbing her throat pulls her in to his arms, twisting her around so her backside is against his chest. "Yeah I'd like to make a donation", he retorts gyrating his hips into her. His breath smells of hashish, his black hair slicked back held in place by it's natural oils. Dangling from a silver looped earing is the curvaceous torso of a woman large breast and backside. He is a slave trader of women.

Accustomed to a little rough handling she is aware it is how some men work up their arousal. And aroused he was becoming. She wasn't the fairest of all temple servants. She enjoyed a healthy diet of local fish and wine. Not unlike the women who spurned her in the market place. Jealous when their husbands came home too late. Working indoors from childhood she retained a pale youthful appearance in the face. A subtle but endearing quality that has aided her in her role.

She grabs the Thin Trader's thigh and in a low whisper remarks, "You can have your way with me inside the temple." Hoping to turn a tense situation into a business transaction.

"Bring her over here." Shouts a larger dark skinned trader. He wears a turban like the others but his is blue and made of silk. His gold loop earrings with anchor insignia broadcasting that he is likely a purveyor of slaves for naval purposes. Motioning to his companion he points to a corner away from the temple street. The third trader and he have thrown their coats down on the ground.

The third salve trader wears the garment of a business man. A single earing of gold shackle denotes he sells all manner of slaves. Men, women, and children. His actions slow and chilling as he stands slightly apart watching the drama unfold. He stares fiercely in her eyes reveling in the pain and discomfort as she is dragged towards the makeshift bed.

"This isn't right, please be my guest inside the temple." The temple with her sisters and brothers, followers of Ishtur is a safer place for her. She struggles against the thin trader and being of ample strength is almost capable of breaking free. Till his friend arrives and aids in subduing her. Shoving a lengthy sash in her mouth. Taking her arm and bending it behind her she is forced into the ally. Managing to knock off the blue turban. The Business man walks over and without looking away from her struggle picks the turban up.

Thrown upon the coats the men in hushed whispers quickly set to holding her down. One man on each side, holding a leg and an arm each. Her simple linen dress is held shut by a thin linen sash. Her white garments become soiled from the dusty dark alley. The thinnest trader opens her dress exposing her bare and naked lower body. Leaning atop her with his hand on her throat his other hand frantically races to move aside his clothes and expose himself. Spitting in his hand he rubs the tip of his erect cock.

The heavier weight of the other traders keeps her pinned to the ground atop their coats. Before she has time to think of who could possibly help her, she is violated with a thrust from the trader atop her. With each thrust his grip tightens on her throat. With each thrust he declares, "I never.." thrust.. "Pay.." thrust.. "Full" thrust.. "Price." thrust.

The sun is setting and the city watch is changing guards. Even if the night watch were to patrol the area they spend their time at the temple entrance, flirting with the servants there.

The coats may protect her attackers knees, but it does little to mitigate feeling the flat stones of the alley. Some of the edges crease an impression into her shoulders and round ass.

She begs "Please" muffled by the makeshift gag. Looking up at the business man her pleas go unnoticed. His face wickedly distorted in pleasure watching her in distress. His drool drips onto her arm. The heavier trader begins to expose her breast on his side, and forcefully bites into it, licking her nipple afterwards. "I'll string this bitch in my captain's quarters and sail her back home with me." He expresses to his companions.

"Not before I've had a taste." says the business man. Leaning down to suck on her other breast.

Her body reacts to the sun baked heat of the stone alley under her, the tightly gripping hands holding her legs and arms open. The cool night air chills the saliva on her nipples. She can feel herself become wet between her legs, her nipples growing. And then there's the pain. Inescapable burning of dry flesh against soft tissue.

She whimpers and struggles as best she can. Her efforts are met with a slap across her face. She sniffles clearing her nose to breathe. Another slap across her face. The thinnest trader tightens his grip on her throat. Even her deep breathes through her nose become restricted. His pounding becomes deeper. Cheered on by his accomplices, he reaches a point of uncontrolled lust and release. She's always found the act of sex enjoyable. The common power play of mammalian animals for the creation of the next years herd of cattle, sheep, pigs, and humans. But her tears tonight keep reminding her, she does not want this to continue. She can feel the trader grow limp, a warm ooze spill forth from her. Her muffled tears go unheard over the joyous laughter and back patting of her attackers.

"My turn." says the blue turbaned trader.

"My turn you'll have her the whole trip home." argues the business man.

"I am seeking a priestess who serves the Goddess Innan-Ishtur." A calm deep voice states a few steps away.

Chapter 2

The figure a few feet away is clearly a barbarian from the north. Muscular and draped in a thin cloak. Accustomed to the cold winds of his homeland even the temperate season of the port city is summer heat to him.

"There are plenty others at the temple, leave us be!" Shouts the blue turbaned trader.

The man covered in shadows a few steps away, looks directly into her eyes. Does he hear her pleas for help, the screaming voice inside her head while nothing escapes her gag. The man from the North takes a slightly deeper breathe and exhales a sigh. She thanks the Goddess. Looking back to the party of slave traders the man replies, "Leave her to me now."

The largest of the traders lunges forward. Stepping over her. Simultaneously pulling a dagger out from his belt. He takes 2 steps forward swinging the blade about. The North man steps into his wild swings. Bending the traders arm at the elbow and twisting the trader over his hip. The knife cuts into the traders throat. The business man has pulled a knife as well and hoping to attack the Northern in the back proceeds forward. But in the same motion throwing the first slave trader the man the continues to twist and turns snatching the knife from the traders throat, and parrying the business man's thrust. Slipping inside his reach the barbarian stabs and removes the blade from the business man's throat twice. Piercing a hole on each side. The North Man side steps under the traders arm and steps forward. The thinnest trader who had been struggling to tuck his vital members back in his trousers, stood to take action. Only to have his throat severed. The blood spirts forward, his eyes watching the initial gush. More than a few drops lands on the priestess. Coating her thighs in red.

Finally free from the traders grasp a rush of adrenaline spikes inside her and she cowers back from the man into the corner of two joining walls. She clutches her dress closed and extending an arm attempts to push the man away from her. However he isn't approaching her. The North man kneels down to one knee and places the knife in the hand of the fallen thin trader. He stays knelt down staring at her quietly. She realizes her rescuer is not a new attacker and relaxes. The man extends a hand to help the priestess up. She accepts and they walk towards the back door of the Temple. She gazes back to see the carnage they leave behind. She staggers and supports herself clutching the tall man. At this moment she notices the rolled up bear skin bundled with a small pack with 2 sheathed axes. She heard of the Northern tribes having berserkers. Men and Women who donned animal skins and acquired wild inhuman rage and strength. He seems unphased and takes his time walking at her pace. Upon reaching the back door she weakly climbs the single step and leans into the door way. Meandering what she should do next. There's no need to call the guards now. In all likelihood she would be damning her rescuer to a trial and death. The North Man bends down and breaks a silver bracelet that was clasped to his ankle. He drops both halves into the offering plate. Looks at the Priestess and The Warrior says, "I call you, Innan-Ishtur to join me in the bed chamber."

Chapter 3

A donation and the words of calling the Priestess to be the Goddess. A request she can not refuse. Taken aback by the demand she feels bewildered by his possible intentions. She hides her head in shame thinking of how she might refuse such a solemn request. "Sir, I must have misheard you there are many maidens in the Temple suitable to channel the Goddess for you."

"I came seeking a priestess of the Goddess. And fate presented one on my path. It will be you." He calmly demands.

What holy quest is this man on she wonders. That every incident and chance meeting should be deemed the hand of Fate guiding his decisions. Unable to refuse any further she nods in agreement.

Following her to a bed chamber they enter a small room with a shallow bath built into the floor and large plush couch in the middle. She speeds over to the bath and taking a sponge begins to dip it into the pool soaking the waters. She hears his bundle drop to the floor. His belt unclasped and clang to the floor. His boots undone and slipped off methodically. In the reflection of the bath water his body is visible in the candle light. He is a warrior befitting all the tales she has heard of the Northern tribes. His skin marked with dyed scars. And scars of the unintentional litter his torso. Gazing at his reflection she didn't notice his approach till he was leaning over her. The Warrior reaches for the sponge and taking it from her hand begins to wipe the droplets of blood from her face. Her black mascara meant to allure and attract now marking a trail of her previous tears. Despite being a raging force of brutality on the battle field, his calloused hands are gentle in wiping her tears away. His eyes narrow and intently watching each swipe of the sponge. As if he is weary of harming her during. He rinses the sponge and soaks up clean water. Proceeds to wipe down her body. She sits on the step leading into the shallow pool. He squeezes the sponge and the water drips from his hand and washes the blood from her thighs.

She notices the Warrior is naked. Slipping the remains of her dress off she slides into the shallow pool kneeling in the water. Outstretching her arms she motions for the Warrior to sit at the edge. He pauses to look around. Weary of assuming a position as weakly guarded as sitting down. But he obliges and does so. Resting her head in his lap, he continues to run the sponge over her back and shoulders. She would invite him in to bathe but she can still smell the oil on his skin. He had visited the bath house before seeking out the Temple grounds.

"What do you seek from the Goddess Innan-Ishtur?" She has never seen a North Man visit the Temple before. It's said their berserkers abstain from women and strong drink when on the war path. Engaging in libations and shaman sex magic just before battle. "I am alone and far from faithful companions heading towards an enemy that out numbers me greatly. I seek her blessing in the upcoming battle." He replies.

Ishtur is goddess of love, desire, power, sex, as well as combat and war. It's not surprising he should seek a boon from her. The Priestess rises from the bath and walks over to the alter in the room. Saying her prayers and calling upon the Goddess to come to her she lights the sacred candles. Then seats herself on the edge of the plush couch.

Chapter 4

The Warrior approaches the Priestess and kneels between her legs. "What do you offer the Goddess?" She inquires.

"I can only over my devotion and the flesh that covers my soul." He says while sliding his hands up her thighs and extending his thumbs begins to massage her. "I offer my tongue." He remarks while leaning down between the Priestess legs and begins to lick and kiss her lower lips. She arches back bracing her hands against the couch. Pushing her hips to the very edge. His hands reach under her thighs and pull her into his mouth.

His tongue explorers her lower region only parting to take a breathe. Seamlessly his mouth moves in and out, exhaling hot air on her skin, kissing the inside of her thighs, sucking gently on her, and licking her with ever increasing pace and passion. She feels weightless not just from the rush of desire but because the Warrior almost picks her up off the bed in his arms while gripping her hips pulling her atop his lips. Having been arching back she let's out a gasp of pleasure. She nearly succumbs to the moment of lust. Bending forward she pulls back to sitting on the edge of the bed. Clasping the Warrior's head in her hands she pulls his face up from her inner thigh. Touching foreheads she recites a prayer for the Goddess to bless the Warrior in his upcoming battle. He rises and stands between her legs. Aroused by the moment himself. Taking her wrists into his hands, he bends her arms behind her back. Comfortably she is held there in his embrace. She begins to kiss his chest and neck. Spreading her legs wider apart she leans back slightly. inviting him to enter her. She instinctually attempts to lean her hands back to brace her. But they are kept together bond in the North Man's grip. Her shoulders wrapped in his arm's embrace. Holding her hands with one hand he reaches out the other and grasps a vine ripened bunch of grapes resting in a bowl near the bed. A small table of perfumes, incense, and other favorite items. Lifting the grapes above them he dips it close enough for the Priestess to pluck a grape off with her mouth. The juices and tart flavor pucker her lips. She smiles as does he. Up until now she had only seen a strict and methodical man. Not prone to such playful gestures. And then another grape...

He rises his hip and presses into her. She can feel her wet lips spread apart as the bottom of his shaft slides up through them. She has her breath taken away, just as the tip enters her. His hips move deeper inside her thighs. Her breasts press against his chest. She loses herself in the sensations of his body hair and muscles encasing her skin. She feels the contrast of his cut physique against her curvy shapes.

She opens her legs wider wrapping them around his waist. Her calves upon the top of his rear. She pulls her legs in pushing his tight rear towards her. His hips press against hers in a rhythmic dance. She leans her head back exposing her neck and chest to his mouth. Which he wastes no time using to kiss her breasts. He opens his mouth and she feels his teeth lightly bite into her neck. A large powerful jaw, like an animal holding it's prey. She feels the thrust and pull and tug of their motions. She feels like she is floating in an ocean of heat. Heat emanating from his tensing body. Heat that keeps the Warrior warm when others freeze, a heat only a North Man can generate.

The waves of the ocean she is floating in becoming faster and faster. She feels his hips begin to slam into her own. The plush couch failing as it absorbs his thrusts. She awakens from her day dreaming and kisses the Warrior's head. "Please Goddess bless my rescuer, this North man who calls upon your name." she recites to herself. On the brink of release the Warrior pulls back. And rests his now wet cock upon her thigh. He takes deep breathes and closes his eyes in silent self restraint. His grip relaxes and she slips her hands free from their restraint. Touching his chest she runs her fingers down his body. Running her one hand over his cock. He tenses and moans with pleasure.

Half of the plush couch is draped in a veil and extends into the depths of the room further from the two doorway lampposts. A symbolic representation of a phallus entering the folds of a woman. The Priestess slips back behind this canopy, a subtle signal she is ready to move onto the next stage of their intimate ceremony.

Crawling forward the Warrior slips inside the canopy. The couch thins to wear he can straddle it. The end of the couch curves up and over, creating a round plush surface high enough to act as back rest, arm rest or support if the Priestess is laying belly down atop it. She spreads her legs and reclines back against the rest. She lifts her knees and plants the heel of her feet on each side of the Warriors butt. Joining them once again. She runs her hands down his body. The light of the moon cascading through a oval window at the head of the couch. The pale blue light tints everything within the canopy. Through tiny holes in the aged veil yellow candle light shimmers . Like stars against the dark blue sky. She admires his strong shoulders. Runs her hands down his chest. Presses her finger tips down his abs. Feeling the creases of his muscles as they come closer to her. The North Man massages her shoulders. She feels his grip on the base of her neck. His large hands caressing and squeezing as they descend down her arms. Gripping the top of her arm. Then he massages and rubs his thumbs into the crease of her elbow. Massaging his thumbs into her forearms. He finishes by gently gripping each finger then kissing the top of her hand. He kisses her neck and worships her body with his praise. He looks at her deeply and longingly as he positions deeper inside her thighs. He kisses her lips softly. She returns the gift and kisses his. They sink into a rhythm of caressing each other and gripping each others body. She's attracted to his frame and build. The contrast of scar tissue and gentle kisses. "Give me the force by which to propel your prayers to the Goddess." She states with strained breath.