To Be Outside Oneself

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A day in the life of a neophyte in a religious order.
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Judith rose smoothly from the small bed of her simple cell. She lit the oil lamp on the small table beside it, and took a moment to center herself. The scent of the hemp oil was by now familiar, comforting, and almost unnoticed for its ubiquity as it burned in every lamp in the temple. She breathed slowly, deeply, three times, filling her lungs completely and emptying fully each time, before sliding down onto the ground, prostrating herself with her forehead against the simple, well-swept stone floor.

In her daily prayer, she heard the rising gong ring three times, but it made no conscious impression. Her rhythmic mantra rolled from her lips, filling her mind and silencing thought and awareness. "Tray-atuk vodyeh spenya, shavar manu makte, tray-atuk vodyeh..." It had taken months to learn the language of the Ekstatikoi - a strange tongue of power and flexibility, bearing within it magical words and phrases for the initiated. Even to learn it exercised the flexibility of her mind, adjusted her view of the world. One day, she might think first in it, second in Common, but for now the words mentally echoed in common as she spoke them.

"Beauty and limitless light flow from it, the throne of that which is desired and beautiful to all people..." She spoke it softly each time, the sound bouncing from the smooth stone back to her slightly pointed ears. Her only pause was for breath - she had not yet learned the secret of circular breathing - and those were short, soft, and quick. The third set of strikes to the gongs coincided with the end of the hundredth repetition of her mantra, and she rose smoothly, taking the opportunity to stretch out smoothly. Long limbed and smoothly built, she first reached up to the sky, fingertips brushing against the rough ceiling, before reaching down to the floor. With only slight effort, she adopted the proper position, her face between her knees and her palms on the floor, and then unfolded herself again to stand.

In the mirror, she caught herself, and smiled. Her forehead was still dark in its center from her prostrations, and it brought a giggle to her lips - a great red blotch on her otherwise pristine skin. Judith permitted her eyes to roam down over her reflection, admiring the sight. The flowing tumble of her black hair spilled down over her shoulders, still unkempt from sleep, to brush at the top of modest but pleasingly full breasts, beneath which a smooth belly sat just slightly fat, well-fed but not to excess. Her hips were pleasantly broad, if not extraordinary, but her most noted feature rested between her legs - a plump, uncircumcised member, an esteemed feature among the Ekstatikoi.

Remember, she cautioned herself, you are not your body. Be proud of it, but remember you are more than flesh. That had been another difficult mantra to absorb, a hard adjustment to make coming from the materialistic outside world. She never would have imagined, in her past life, that she would be so happy with so little to her name. Passing a simple bone comb through her hair, she remembered her old wardrobe, with its many dresses; her vanity, which serviced that same trait in her. Now she had only three dresses, and they were all the same. They slipped on loosely over the head, a billowing expanse of soft white cotton that left her left breast bare in a sign of devotion and modesty.

A quick puff of air extinguished the lamp, and she slipped out into the priestess's communal rooms, deep in the heart of the temple. Here, the austerity gave way to comfort if not to opulence. Oil lamps lit the smoothly polished stones with a dull warmth, and their benches were comfortably padded. Their breakfast was already prepared, waiting for them on the table, brought by the retiring priestesses who oversaw the temple's daily operations on their way to their own bed, a final act before striking the rising gong. Judith took her usual place at the polished wood - as usual, the first there - and waited for her cloistered fellows, returning to her mantra out of instinct. Others could repeat it without conscious effort, but she still required a small moment of effort to resume the rhythmic flow.

Cassandra joined her, offering a smile and taking the place next to her, sitting cross-legged on the cushions in her usual manner. She was a slender, sharp-featured young woman, and where Judith's breast hung over the left side of the dress, Cassandra displayed only a small sloping rise capped with a delicate pink nipple. The rest joined them - Avran, with his pale blue skin and horns; Melita, well-named for the honey-coloured hair that grew long and curly and resisted any attempt at being tamed. Their senior priestess for the Hours, Miriam, joined them last among the dozen.

They were all in awe of Miriam. Not for her physical form - which, though she carried herself with the poise and grace of some long forgotten goddess of sensuality, was merely average - but for her experience. She was younger than half the priestesses, but she was one of only a scant few to have endured the entire novitiate's initiation. Five years of complete sexual denial while studying theology, dance, the moving ways, secret magic and eroticism of all sorts, all of it endured in her adolescence as her body most desperately responded to the subjects of her study with throbbing need. It was a test less than one in a hundred passed. The only distinguishing mark in Miriam's dress was a thin black fringe along the lower edge of the same plain white dress they all wore, but only a fool could miss the difference. Every step proclaimed it, every soft word spoken with honey or with fury might make the spirit quake, and in the presence of the high priestesses all felt compelled to silence not by any kind of magical force but by a primordial, instinctive recognition of an enlightened being standing among them.

Judith and most of the other priestesses had come by the easy way. They had visited as free men and women, and surrendered themselves to the rites. They had begged and pleaded for admission, and it had been granted by the Hierophant after lengthy consideration. They performed rituals, studied and prayed, but they were forbidden from the Holiest of Holies for seven years, and even then their admission was not certain. Without the years of discipline, preparation, and practice, the swirling and cascading energies of the Holiest of Holies might drive them to madness, despair, or send them reeling, careening away into the night to scream and howl for pleasure they could no longer feel, the ability burned from their bodies in one moment of ecstatic overload.

Miriam quieted them with a soft wave as she sat and smiled, looking over them thoughtfully, hands resting neatly in her lap as she considered each. "Judith," she spoke with her honeyed voice, "Tonight, I would like you to assist me in an invocation." The words sent an electric thrill down Judith's spine, a low tingling in her belly. To be chosen brought no temporal advantage, no special favour, but it presented a chance to learn in person from one of their guides and teachers, and she quickly and joyfully nodded.

The sound of her heartbeat throbbing in her ears drowned out the rest of the instructions. Much of the work was not as glamorous as her task for the evening. While the city's elite saw the temple as little more than a luxurious brothel in which to satisfy their hungers, there was real work to be done. Meals were served hourly to the needy - anyone was welcome, but rare was the noble willing to rub elbows with a peasant to eat in a 'mere brothel' - from the same kitchen they all ate from. Prayers were conducted at all times, and there were no servants to cook or clean. All of them took turns, even the high priestesses and the Hierophant herself. The deep pockets of the rich and the willingness of the temple to satisfy any lust (so long as it harm no one) kept them able to pursue their real work of enlightenment, charity, and love.

Miriam leaned over, and the press of her soft fingertips to Judith's chin startled her from her dazed state. She smiled, and spoke, and when she saw that Judith still didn't hear it she leaned closer to repeat herself in that same honeyed tone that made the quarter-elf's spine melt and her stomach flip.

"Don't forget to eat, Judith... I'll need you to have energy tonight."

With her heart in her throat, Judith nodded and finally picked up her spoon, joining the rest of the priestesses in the meal. They ate simply in the temple, but not without pleasure. The daily breakfast was rice cooked with lentils and coriander, served with a hot thick flatbread brushed with butter and a small dish of strained yoghurt flavoured with cinnamon. It was satisfying, wholesome, filling and fit for long hours of prayer, service, and labour towards enlightenment, though Judith caught herself - as she had almost daily in her first weeks at the temple - missing meat. It was forbidden from their diet, as were garlic and onions and other aphrodisiacs.

The clatter of spoons on wooden bowls was punctuated by soft conversation, laughter, and muttered mantras. None broke through Judith's cloud of excitement. Will she need me to dance? She wondered, Or help with a sacrifice? Or... Despite herself, she flushed as her mind turned to the next option. Maybe she'll 'use' me as a ritual tool. Months at the Temple had taught her there was no shame to sexuality, to pleasure; indeed, it was a point of Ekstatikoi doctrine that the moment of orgasm was a moment of spiritual freedom akin to those found through prayer, meditation, and consecrated dance. Many of the temple's most sacred rituals involved copulation one way or another, or even solitary orgasm, whether as devotional sacrament or as sacrificial offering of energy. The thought of Miriam, learned as she was in the arts of pleasure and desire, using Judith's body as the vessel for her work was almost too much for Judith to take.

She was so lost in thought and daydream, despite her efforts to right herself with mantras, that she finished her meal last, only realizing when she raised her spoon for more of her yoghurt to find it empty save for the last dregs coating the tip. The table was deserted, and she quietly rose with a deep breath, placing her bowl in the stack to be taken to the kitchens and washed before joining the others in the priestess's baths. They were through a simple wooden doorway, and they lacked the opulence of the public bath complexes in the temple's eastern wing.

Paradise greeted her eyes, a dozen Ekstatikoi bathing there at once, enjoying the shallow pool of hot water or bathing on stools beside it to avoid fouling the communal bath. Two more sat on benches by the wall, speaking in a hush. Through the sweetly scented steam and the scent of oils and soaps, it was a vision that might grace the canvas of some wild romantic, a hazy dream of beauty and majesty in its rawest form. Judith's eyes were drawn to Mani, standing proud in the middle of the baths with Avran ministering to her, oiling her powerful body with olive oil before taking a strigil to her body, scraping it smoothly away.

It was a method of bathing Judith had never encountered before she entered the temple, but it left the skin supple, soft, glowing and smooth. It outdid any beauty regimen she had ever attempted in the city with ease - and it was a stunning thing both to witness and to experience. Despite herself, she felt her cock stir as she pulled her dress over her head and placed it on a hook, watching out of one eye. She had a powerful attraction to other women like herself, and Mani was one of the few among the Ekstatikoi who shared her nature - though she possessed only a penis, rather than Judith's dual nature. They rarely talked, as Mani tended to the day half of the temple's needs and slept during the night, and these brief overlaps in their schedule were the only time their paths crossed.

Judith paused, torn between competing instincts. Sex was permitted among the Ekstatikoi. More than permitted, it was common, especially between those whose work took them largely into the kitchens or the ritual spaces. And there was very little Judith wanted to do more than to glide over, take Mani by the hand, and exploit this brief moment of overlap. The thought of it made her swell between her legs, stiffened her cock, and sent an electric twinge of pleasure into her nipples.

Earlier in her stay, she would have followed her instinct, consequences be damned. But now, after months of effort, she quieted it to think. If Miriam was going to make use of her, Judith would need to be ready for any service, sexual or otherwise, and while great energy might still be released from a second or third orgasm, it might complicate. Reason made it no harder a thing to stand there, watching Mani gleam with oil and sigh with contentment at the slow scrape of the sigil. It warred with lust and instinct.

I can't fuck her, Judith thought, but that doesn't mean I can't use the time. A small smile quirked over her lips as she released the lower one from between teeth she hadn't realized were gnawing, and she walked over to where Mani stood, greeting her by reaching up to cup a cheek and press a kiss to her dark lips. Mani answered with a smile and a whispered greeting, quieted by Judith's finger against her lips as she lowered herself with grace to her knees. The quarter-elf took a moment to look up and admire the view of Mani's flat, toned stomach, the small swells of her developing breasts, the smile on her soft lips. Her dark skin gleamed with the oil and the steam, and with a sigh of pleasure Judith turned her attention to her crush's phallus.

It was not remarkable in its shape or its size, perhaps a little smaller than might be expected on someone of Mani's impressive stature and physique, but it had the most perfect velvety skin of any cock Judith had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. She couldn't help but nuzzle it with some satisfaction, delighting in Mani's unique scent as well as the feel of her cock against her face. It was a little stronger than usual, the product of a day's work in the temple, but it was familiar, pleasant, and far from overpowering.

The open display did not go unnoticed, but among the priestesses it was little to be remarked on. Avran barely paused in strigiling Mani's back, offering only a low rumbling chuckle deep in his chest, while Cassandra alone showed any interest. Still fresh among the Ekstatikoi, each display served to titillate her, and she moved up onto the rim of the shallow pool for a better view, resting her chin on one hand as the other slid between skinny thighs in anticipation of the show.

Judith delighted in the act, her cock rising between her legs to needy hardness as she worked to raise Mani's. Her crush needed coaxing to stiffen, and her cock often stubbornly refused to rise even when she wanted it to, but Judith simply whispered soft words of adoration up at Mani while nuzzling her, ran her tongue slowly along the soft tip. She delighted in the contrast of the darker woman's circumcised glans compared to her own, half revealed by a foreskin retracting with arousal, and the way it jumped lightly as an involuntary spasm run through Mani's body. Mani's hands came to rest in her hair, and she sighed in pleasure to feel it.

It was a sweet experience, drawing Mani to a furtive erection that strengthened under her attention. After months among the Ekstatikoi, it was easy to take pleasure in the unsatisfied throb of her own cock, to see it as an offering of adoration to her fellow priestess. Fingers stroked along powerful thighs, ran inwards to encircle and stroke as she licked and caressed, until finally Mani was stiff and needy, her cock drooling precum in a constant wash against Judith's lips and cheeks. She parted her lips for a taste, sighing again with pleasure at the taste of the salty, musky, slightly bitter fluid that ran over her tongue in slick rivulets. Part of her envied how much of it Mani created.

Moans encouraged her on, soft little sounds mixed with gasps and sounds of satisfied pleasure as Avran finished oiling and scraping Mani's back clean, the stroke of metal a strange sort of massage. Judith worked with more eagerness, closing her lips around Mani, bobbing her head eagerly, closing her eyes. She could only barely hear Cassandra in the pool over the sound of Mani's pleasure, the soft sounds of her own suckling, and the loud thudding of her own heartbeat. Mingling with the taste of Mani's cock, the scent of her, the heat of the steam on her body, it was an intoxicating mix. She let herself surrender to the moment, chasing her bliss, embracing the thrill of surrender and the satisfaction of bringing pleasure.

It was almost a disappointment when Mani finally came. It took long minutes of skilled work, of her tongue swirling and caressing her tip, running along the underside when she dipped in to take the entire length into her mouth until it pressed to the back of her throat, of fingers caressing the dangling skin beneath her cock in a way she knew Mani enjoyed. Precum gleamed on her cheeks, kept from drying by the steam, smeared there whenever she drew back to nuzzle and kiss. Mani's cum was slightly sweet as well as musky and bitter, and it drooled onto Judith's tongue without great fanfare, more a thickening of the already ample flow of pre than an ejaculation.

She swallowed, drew back, and milked a few last drops onto her lips to lap off before looking up and favouring Mani with a smile while her own erection desperately throbbed beneath her. They exchanged no words, just a soft kiss when Judith rose, and the intimate experience of Mani taking oil for her, brushing it over her body carefully with her bare hands. Elsewhere, it might be sexual, but in this place it was simply a matter of friendship, of hygiene. It didn't help Judith with her arousal, however, and she had to quietly stop Mani from 'helping' her with her oiled hand. She endured the sweet sensation of oil and strigil stimulating her, the exquisite feeling of the dull blade running over her skin and taking dirt, grime, and sweat with it, leaving her pristine and new, her skin fresh and glowing. It was a unique feeling, painful but pleasant all at once, and blood flushed wherever the strigil flowed, revitalizing skin and muscle alike.

At the end, she thanked Mani with another soft kiss and took to the pool to relax and finally coax her cock back to sleep. She thought of the night's routine as she leaned against the smooth tile. In an hour, there would be one of the great ecstatic rites of the night in the main chamber, a great domed room three stories tall. Tonight's, if she remembered the schedule correctly, was not an orgiastic rite, but one of flagellation. Outsiders came to the temple (herself included, when she first arrived), thinking it was a place only of sensual pleasure.

They were wrong. Among the ekstatikoi, every path to the state of ecstasy was explored. They did not seek the tawdry popular idea of ecstasy, but its true sense - not mere pleasure, however exquisite, but a moment of freedom from the confines of the flesh, of communion with the true self who was hidden away by the fabric of the world. The true self could only be found in those fleeting moments, and every adherent to the rites had their own paths of greater ease. She sat among those who favoured orgiastic climaxes of sexual exhaustion or the exhaustion of long dance, but the temple held those whose rites left their white gowns crimson from the whippings and the mortification of their own flesh, others whose ribs could be counted through the skin at the end of great fasts, still others who spent literal days in meditation without movement or who broke their chains with hashish, opium and mushroom tea, and yet others still who found their enlightenment by the combination of all those techniques applied in the right orders.

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