Dr. Kessa Brammer led him through a creaking metal door into the last storage room in the antiquities department. He stepped past her at her direction, looking around the chamber with slight un-ease. He was perhaps her brightest student, which was part of why she liked him. She pushed her weight against the metal door, which creaked closed, and latched with an echoing click. She smoothed her tastefully short skirt, and moved to join her student where he stood. Her long legs moved effortlessly in the heels she always wore when she gave tours of the museum's collection.
"What do you see, Donavan?" she asked in her cool even tone. She had learned from experience how to prompt her students to discover answers. She found, particularly with male students, that a little flirting could go a long way! Admittedly, alone with this fine specimen of a young man, she was laying it on a bit thick. The young man raised his eyebrows, and composed himself, and turned his eyes toward the artifact in the center of the room. He started to speak, closed his mouth for a moment, and began again.
"Inca, early agrarian, ritualistic object..."
"Very good, go on?"
The object stood in the middle of the bare concrete chamber. A lone skylight high above cast a shadowy back-light over the bare stone.
"Three feet tall, carved stone, unusual stylized form."
He walked up close and observed the object. It had a curved arch across its top, and a bowl carved out at one end, one end of the bowl seemed to have a smooth depression at its lip, facing away from the stone's top. It was almost like the pouring spout of a pitcher.
"Looks like an altar of some sort" he said, feeling satisfied with his conclusion.
"You might say that... go on.." she prompted him further.
An altar, yes. He was sure of that. The Incas worshiped nature and the seasons, being some of the first agricultural people. He knew from his readings that they especially celebrated rights of fertility and rituals of the growing season.
He knelt and inspected the top of the stone further. Its surface was warn smooth, as if it had been rubbed smooth by human touch over a millennium.
"Is it a fountain of some sort?" he asked, making a guess as to the peculiar bowl.
"So to speak, Donavan." She raised one eyebrow, and couldn't help but smile at his guess. "I'll give you a clue: Think of a saddle..."
She let the nonchalance of her voice trail off into the echoing room.
She smiled to herself from the corner of her mouth, as he turned his full attention back to the stone object. So engrossed was he in his inspection that he didn't notice her hands reaching up the back of her shirt to unsnap the clasp of her bra. He was still oblivious when she sighed, feeling the weight of her breasts released beneath the silk of her white blouse.
"Interesting" he said, inspecting the stone base of the artifact. "With these markings around the bottom -these grooves - it would suggest that... that the legs were...were.."
"Tied, Donavan. Young men were tied into this saddle. It is called an Oblerogosta, or 'the fertile earth'. Any idea why?" She was looking at him cooly from the tops of her unblinking eyes. She took three measured steps to his side, and helped him to stand up next to the saddle.
"Um..." he stammered "Fertility... fertility ritual, I imagine..." He stopped short as Kessa crossed her arms across her chest, and in one smooth motion, lifted her shirt off over her head. Her bra tumbled to the floor between them, and her breasts jostled to rest on her chest. She knew she had gorgeous breasts. Her Brazilian heritage dated back to the time of the Incas. Her nipples stood like amber peaks on perfect raised circles, surrounded by the full bronze smoothness of her chest.
"Breasts" she began, "are the feminine symbol of fertility. A man can gauge a woman's fertility by the qualities of her breasts. A woman's breasts nurture his young, they provide for his family. That is your second clue."
"So, this.." he gulped again, trying to maintain composure, trying to hold eye contact with her, his eyes involuntarily moving down to her chest and lingering there.
"The Fertile Earth is a male fertility ritual, practiced at the equinox." Her hands reached out and deftly unbuckled his belt. Her nimble fingers unbuttoned his slacks, and let down the thin zipper.
"Kessa! I...we... we should go back to the class..."
"They're in film about the history of ancient agriculture. It lasts another hour. I just thought this was a perfect time to enrich your understanding of the Incas ...Donavan?"
"Um... yes, well, I..." She gave a little tug, and his slacks fell to the floor over his shoes.
"I want you to sit on the Oblerogosta, Donavan. Can you do that for me? This is the best way to truly understand this important ritual."
Not wanting to disappoint his favorite teacher, he hastily stepped out of his slacks, kicking off his shoes.
"Your shirt too, Donavan" she murmured, unbuttoning his collar. She slipped it off of his strong shoulders. She could feel his well developed musculature beneath her fingers as she slid the shirt up and off his arms. He was 21, prime for the ritual, prime and fertile...
Looking a little uncertain, the young man stood next to the stone saddle. He eyed it, this time with an err of dismay.
"Your boxer shorts now too, please. The saddle must be mounted in the nude." she said, regaining her flat even tone. She brushed her dark long hair back behind her bare shoulders, unclasped her skirt, and let it fall to the concrete. The only light in the room shone in a spot through a round skylight high overhead. The indirect tones of light shone up and reflected off of her smooth skin, giving her an almost otherworldly look. She stared intently as he slipped the elastic of his boxers down and off of him. His genitals hung solid and heavy. His penis was perked, involuntarily stiffening into an erection.
"The Incas would select the strongest, most coveted, most fertile of their young men, and would place them into saddles just like this one. " she stepped close, moving behind him. She let her hand rest on his bare buttocks, and slide down his muscular thigh, encouraging him to lift his leg. Still uncertain, Donavan did as she asked, swinging his leg up and over the saddle, shifting his weight, and bouncing with one foot. He took his mount on the back edge of the saddle, and looked down at her.
"You notice, Donavan, the way the saddle is carved out. It has a bowl at this end. I need you to scoot up a bit." She took his hands in hers, and and tugged briskly while he scooted forward. She smiled as both his genitals plopped perfectly into the rounded vessel at the front of the saddle.
"You see? That's better, isn't it?" She smiled, allowing a little gleeful giggle. "It's perfect, just perfect!"
Donavan hardly knew what to think, but had to admit to himself that it was arranged pretty well... the saddle seemed to support him very well beneath his buttocks, and the cup at the front seemed to hold his genitals, like eggs in a nest. The smooth groove at the front of the bowl, which he mistook as the pour spout of a pitcher, was perfectly positioned to support the engorged shaft of a man's penis.
From a tool box near the wall, Kessa pulled a coil of rope.
"This will have to do. They are bringing more authentic articles in here once they are ready to actually set up the exhibit. I'm helping to curate it. It'll be an entire exhibit dedicated to sexual rituals of the ancient world."
"Sexual rituals? Dr. Brammer, I think we should probably... ouch!"
Her knee pressed in the middle of his back, she pulled his wrists together, and bound them fast! She then knelt before he had time to think, and had rope loops around his ankles. She then stood and walked around the saddle... once, twice, three times, binding his legs tightly to the stone.