In the twilight hours of Thalor, the sacred Elven city--where moonlight bathed everything in a luminous sheen and silence echoed louder than the choirs' songs--lived Shoshana Leafspire, once destined to become the city's High Priestess.
To most, Shoshana's fall from the Temple was a disgrace--a cautionary tale.
But to her, it was a transformation.
As a child of ten, Shoshana had been a dutiful one. She said her prayers to Sehanine, God of the Forest, and sang her hymns, did all her chores, but she hated every second of it. She would have preferred to be out in the forest running and playing.
Her father, Merith, the High Priest, forbade her from leaving the palace.
"You are to be a vessel of grace," he said, robed in ceremonial garb, kneeling before statues, barely looking at her. "Not some tree-running savage."
He rarely looked at her when they spoke. The statues, or scrolls, or altars always seemed more important--or the ever-burning flame at the heart of the temple.
Even the gods get more of him than I do,
she would think.
At thirteen, she found her way to the temple armory and got her first bow. She snuck it up to her room and kept it there for weeks, just touching it. She named it
Traymma
, which means 'tree runner'.
It was a month before she took her first shot. She hadn't taken it for that; she took it just to have. But then one day, her father angered her again. He had confined a young boy to the Temple for the trivial offence of feeding the squirrels. Shoshana had never understood her father's issues with such a thing.
That night, she snuck out of the Temple and took her first shot. She missed her target by thirty feet and it broke a palace window. She received twenty lashes for that.
When she turned eighteen, everything changed. Merith had spent years pretending she barely existed--his gaze passing through her as if she were just another piece of furniture in the Temple. More than once, she'd overheard him telling others she was a burden, that she would never pass her trials, that she had been
born wrong
.
Needless to say, they avoided each other when they could. And Shoshana had even less interest in fulfilling her duties as a priestess now then she had as a child. She went through the motions, but did little more than that.
While wandering around the lower reaches of the temple palace one day, trying to avoid her chores, she stumbled upon something that would change her life forever: the entrance to an ancient catacomb beneath the palace.
She spent the next several weeks searching the catacombs during any free time she could get. There were all kinds of old books and tomes in there. Some were texts she had seen referenced before, but never read. Most were entirely unfamiliar.
Then she found it. A large ornate golden door. The carving depicted a visceral scene, the likes of which she had never even imagined. In the center of the scene an altar, covered with what looked to be a soft duvet. All around it were men, women, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, people of all races. Each depicted in random acts of sexually explicit behavior. On the Altar itself lay an elven woman, wearing only a priestly crown. Her hands and legs tied to the altar, spreading her body out. Between her legs stood a large godlike being. His large chest covered in soft-looking hair, powerful arms stretched out as if welcoming everyone in the picture into an embrace.
Shoshana blushed as she looked at the door. She had never seen anything so explicit, and yet so beautiful. Her face flushed even more when she noticed that the godlike man's large cock was penetrating the priestess's pussy, and the point of penetration was where the keyhole for the door was.
That was the first time she touched herself. She had no idea what she was doing, but she sat on the floor unable to look away from the door. She reached for herself --clumsy, curious, aching for something she didn't understand. Every day for the next week she went back to that door. She searched around, looking for a key that would fit the odd, round keyhole in the door. After a week, she moved on to other rooms, though she still came back to that door at least once a week to stare at it and touch herself. She became obsessed with that door.
Two years passed and still she had not managed to open that door. Now she was nearing her trials. At twenty years of age, she was expected to take the trials and become a priestess of Sehanine. She had no desire to do so, but she also saw no other choice. Worst of all, as a priestess, she would have almost no free time to explore the catacombs. Her quest to open that door would be all but over.
A month before her trials began, she was lamenting her misfortune in front of the door when things took a turn. She had spent the night searching for a key, as usual, but to no avail. Now she lay in front of the door, her clothes abandoned, legs spread open, as she touched herself. Her eyes glued to the keyhole as her fingers played across her clit.
"Mmmm..." She cooed to the door. She often talked to it. Hoping one day one of the people on the door might speak up and offer her some clue as to what to do.
"Why won't you open for me," she said moving her hand in slow circles.
After two years, she still had no real clue what she was doing. Having grown up in a temple palace, in the strict household of her inattentive father, she had never had any sort of sexual education. Her mother had died when she was very young. And even after two years of using this door as inspiration, she had never managed to bring herself to orgasm.
