The boy awoke, the morning light streaming in through the window on to his face, warming his naked body. Already the day was warm, the hot dry desert air causing the small room to be uncomfortably stuffy before the sun had yet fully risen. Today though, there was an electric current upon the air. Today was his eighteenth birthday. Today was the day of the grand ceremony, to be performed by the High Priestess herself, in which he had been specially chosen to play a central part.
He had been selected at a young age and undergone years of training in the submissive arts in order that the Priestess may join with him upon the high altar, and through him attain the sacred spirit.
The door to the room opened abruptly interrupting his thoughts, and the matriarch put her head around the door to check he was awake. The matriarch was a slave like him technically; an older woman with many years service charged with overseeing the chosen boys. Despite that though, she carried a clear authority and in the warren of corridors that made up the trainees' living area, her word was law.
Rising from his bed he looked around, knowing this was the last day he would call this small space home. His cell was basic, identical to those inhabited by the monks at the temple; just a simple futon bed, and a small pommel horse, similar to that used by gymnasts. For the past month, he had spent two sessions a day bent over it, naked, whilst the matriarch had used her fingers on him, training his tight hole to readily accept the Priestess when the time came. She used only her fingers, building up from a single digit to three, never a dildo. It was important the boy was kept pure in that way before the ceremony, the Priestess must be the first to take him for the ancient magic to be appeased. For that same reason, the boy was not made to cum whilst her fingers penetrated him, instead he was made to masturbate for the matriarch after she had finished but before leaving his cell; an act she knew he found utterly humiliating.
Like all boys chosen for the ceremony, he had never known the soft embrace of female flesh. Only through the grip of his or another's hand had he known release. Unlike most males, he had been properly educated, knew of the glory of the Female, knew that every part of his body could be used to serve and honour Her sacred form.
He had been chosen at a very young age, and taken from his family and the small village he had been born in to the Great Temple. Here he had undergone many years of training, both mental and physical. He had learnt alongside other boys had to serve, firstly to satisfy a Mistresses' day-to-day needs and act as part of her household, and then as he became older, had learnt the use of each of his body parts in pleasing her. At some point, he had been marked for the ceremony which was approaching, and his training from then on had differed from the other boys'.
Whilst they had been fully in service for some years now, he had taken a different path. Some nights he had been kept awake, listening to their groans of pain and pleasure as the Noblewomen who could afford the bribes visited their cells to fuck the tight young slaves ahead of the completion of their full training and their subsequent sale at the next monthly slave market.
Often as he had lain listening, mind racing with forbidden images, his hand had wandered down his body to his throbbing member, slowly masturbating himself as the sounds passion and lust drifted down the hallway. That had stopped abruptly though when he had been caught by the matriarch one night on her rounds. Flinging his door open and marching in she had ordered him to pull his knees up to his chest; an order he had obeyed instantly out of sheer terror. With the crop she always wielded she had set about his exposed young bottom with gusto, admonishing him without pause. When at last she stopped, and he dared to think it was over, she had simply barked at him to keep his knees up and let his legs fall apart. He had looked up at her through tear-filled eyes, as he obeyed her, the vulnerable flesh of his genitals now exposed. Without mercy however she had brought her arm down a further ten times upon his cock and balls, causing him to cry out in agony. She had noted with satisfaction though, as she left him curled up sobbing in a ball, that despite the pain he had kept his legs open for her as commanded.
The boy snapped out of his daydreaming as the matriarch re-entered the room to place a jug and bowl of water and a bar of soap on the floor before bustling out again. Quickly, he washed himself, squatting to clean his genitals and anus, knowing full well she would return shortly and expect him to be particularly clean in those areas. Minutes later she reappeared, passing him a towel, leaving again without a word. Indeed, she barely spoke to him at all, other than to snap orders at him. Even as she worked on his body with her fingers, skillfully opening him up, she didn't utter a thing, the boy's heavy breathing as she worked, and the sound of her lubricated fingers sliding in and out of him the only things breaking the silence.
He towelled himself dry quickly, before the matriarch again returned to the cell, taking the towel from him. Pausing for a moment, she had him turn slowly in a circle, appraising his form. Other than his black leather collar, his body was naked and unblemished. Yes, she had done a fine job with him, he was going to do wonderfully. Not for the first time, as she passed him the simple white robe slaves wore, she felt a surge of jealousy run through her, lighting up her genitals. She wanted more than anything to have him on his back, his anus bared for her, begging her to enter him, to own him. Yet, she knew it was above her station to have such things, and she had more than most in that she had access to the whole harem of boys' delightful bottoms with her fingers.
With a curt "get dressed", she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Once more alone, the boy pulled the robe around him and fastened the front, then sat patiently awaiting his summons. An hour later the door opened again, though this time two strangers entered; two girls, dressed simply in short white cotton dresses, the hems barely reaching below their young buttocks, the contours of their bodies visible through the soft fabric. The only clue to their age or station was the gold thread shimmering at the hem, marking them as between eighteen and twenty years of age, and in service to the Temple authorities. They looked so similar they could have been twins, except for their hair: one was redheaded, the other blonde, almost platinum. Both girls were obviously from the northern lands, their pale skin and delicate features unmarred.
"You are to come with us" said the blonde girl, "we will take you to be prepared."
The red head stepped forward and attached a thin silver chain to his collar, and wordlessly led him from the room. Passing out of the accommodation block into the bright sunlight he squinted, blinded momentarily, but they soon passed inside once more. For some time they marched quickly down an endless series of corridors, each decorated with hieroglyphs and tapestries depicting stories of the great empire in which they dwelt. The boy wished he could take more time to examine his new surroundings, having not left the harem compound since he was a small boy, but the girls kept up a quick pace.
After some time they came to a halt abruptly before a heavy wooden door.
"We are here" spoke the blonde in her lilting voice, opening the door for the redhead to lead him through with a gentle tug on the chain.
'Here' was a small anteroom, on the opposite wall of which was another door, this one larger and more ornate, that the boy assumed must lead to the sacred chamber. He had been led to the middle of the room, and made to halt at a word from the girls. He looked around, and saw only a small table upon which sat a pot of warmed and fragranced oil, and a pestle and mortar beside which lay some blue capsules.
