Priestess' Gambit

Izefia's mind raced.

"I am T'tshalan, the Chief in Times of War," he said. "Whom do I speak to?"

"High Priestess Izefia, servant of the Bringer of Health." Something occurred to her, and she blurted it out: "You may have us. You may have us all, on one condition. We must stay together. Forever."

T'tshalan thought for a moment. "You only want to serve together? It is a deal."

"Wait!" Izefia's firmness shocked the room. "Your word is not enough. I want a sun-oath."

Murmurs rippled through T'tshalan's men. A few faces turned hostile. "A sun-oath." he said flatly. "You would have me undergo the bloodletting rite for women I have already conquered."

"You can take us and strip us and rape us," Izefia countered. "But give my women the assurance that they will always have each other, and we will submit to you." She took a small step closer, putting a hand on his chest. "We won't just be your captives. We will be your playthings." It was a big promise, but she no longer doubted that her women would make it.

T'tshalan's smile spread. He looked back at his men as Izefia's heart raced.

"I will take the oath."

* * *

Izefia looked out on the temple. It was a place full of beauty, if not for the same reason as before. This late in the evening, only the fires lit the room with their warm, lively glow. On the wall opposing the entrance, the Bringer of Health still smiled at her daughters as they serviced their conquerors with their ripe bodies. By happy coincidence, the Bringer's open robes, her wide hips and her swollen breasts nicely suited her temple's new purpose. What had once been the silent, shadowy home of prayers and praises was now a brothel reserved for T'tshalan and his men.

in the middle of the floor, Jaydi squatted over a small but fierce-looking man, her ankles gripped in his hands. The woman who had once so enthusiastically led the prayer-chants now sang a different kind of song as she bounced on him, coming down so hard that it must have bruised his thighs. The man didn't seem to mind.

Beside her, Nadifa knelt in front of a feathered veteran, hands demurely together on the ground, her veiled head bobbing slowly back and forth as she sucked on him. From the neck down, Nadifa was as naked as the other girls, but she had insistently kept her hood. Accordingly, T'tshalan's men had started calling her Shadow, and her name had somehow become even more famous than her skill with her mouth.

Nadifa's sister Narolie knelt on the opposite end of the rug, making a barely audible slurping noise as she pleased another man the same way. There was a long line for both women; the rumor had spread that their mouths could bolster a man's health, and they had found it useful to keep that rumor alive.

At the side of the room, a strapping young man stepped up to Bandele, who hung trapped in leather straps that kept her pinned against the wall, her arms at her sides and her legs wide open. Her full breasts glistened from all the men who had spat on their hands and then fondled her, and another man had finger-painted a symbol on her stomach that surely stood for something naughty. It did nothing to dissuade Bandele's young new client as he pushed into her, making her moan with low, heavy breaths.

Izefia murmured her admiration. She had been up in those straps once already, displayed like a decoration, and her thighs had ached for a day thereafter. She was happy to leave that post to tougher women.

In a corner farthest from the door, hunched men sat in a circle around Nakasi and Zaliki. The men swayed and hissed and gave soft catcalls as they watched the two women ply each other with practiced, elegant grace. The performance was sincerer than they could have known; always, those girls had wanted each other, and now that the temple was a brothel, they let their desires run wild.

"What do you think, priest queen?" asked T'tshalan. "I have held up my promise."

Izefia looked back at the great war-chief who watched the pleasures with her. His hands massaged her shoulders, and Izefia allowed herself to purr. Passing on responsibility for the temple had made her feel ten years younger, and now, with all of her women safe and together, she could relax. She melted into T'tshalan's hands as he eased her against him and sat down. Her golden disc earrings, which he had allowed her to keep, jangled as she lowered herself into his lap.

"I have never married," he whispered into her ear. "And I have been without women for years."

"You?" she whispered back. "The women of your tribe must have terrible taste."

He chuckled, and she felt his chest puff behind her. "It is only because I have been at war. I did not stay anywhere."

"And now?"

She could feel his muscles relax. "Now, I stay. And you stay with me." His hands plied her sides with expert, tender care. Heat spread through Izefia.

Closing her eyes on the scene before her, she turned her head to face him and lost herself in a kiss.