All characters and persons involved in sexual activities in this story are over the age of 18.
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4: Palace of Knossos, Minoa (modern day Crete): 1700BC
Bakila and Helene
Bakila checked her reflection in the small polished bronze mirror that was one of her few prized possessions. The long dark hair she was currently brushing framed a face which was warped weirdly in the imperfect sheen of the metal surface. But if she looked closely, from the right angle she found that she could usually check her appearance before beginning her day. She could make out her short well pronounced nose above her full dark-tinted lips, and the smooth open forehead above a pair of widely spaced dark brown eyes which were currently rimmed with a thick application of dark makeup. The orange glow of the oil lamp beside her combined with the gold sheen of the mirror gave her reflection an almost reddish sunburnt tint. But in reality her skin was a deep olive brown, currently lightly oiled and scraped clean.
She put the mirror down on her bedside table and stood up, making sure that her long white robe was properly set about her body. The low neckline fell almost to her midriff, exposing the wide open expanse of her chest between two diminutive breasts, and the loose airy fabric hung in pleats from her slim hips. It took a moment to securely fasten her leather sandals around her ankles and finally to don a simple golden necklace, her only adornment, around her neck.
As a young woman of around 18 years of age, she was considered very beautiful by many of her peers. She was well aware of this because of the way that many of the men that she ministered to looked at her. She felt their lusty wandering eyes search over her body when she was beseeching The Goddess on their behalf, felt them stare at her bottom whenever she turned to place offerings on the altar. For this reason she was sometimes glad that her position as acolyte of The Lady prohibited her from lying with a man until her appointed time.
Until her time came, she was subject to the whims of The Lady herself. Both the glorious light-giving deity of the sun and fertility, and the High Priestess of the Temple. She herself had no name as she had given it up when she had become the goddess incarnate, and one day, if The Lady willed it, Bakila herself would also ascend to godhood.
Bakila was not sure how she felt about the idea of ascension. She had very few ties which would keep her here amongst her mortal peers. Her family were long gone and although she had some friends amongst the other acolytes of The Lady, she would not have said that any of them were particularly close. Her status as the next Lady in line had placed a wall between her and the other girls of the temple. So in one way it would be very easy for her to abandon her mortality and become the vessel of the Goddess herself. But at the same time, she also felt that she had so much more living left to do before she submitted her body to incarnation.
It was not as if she had much of an opportunity to run free and experience all of the myriad pleasures and pains of life in the kingdom of Minoa in any case. Although the island kingdom was the richest, most magnificent and most wealthy of all the Middle Sea, Bakila herself had seen little of it. She had lived most of her life in the Temple, ever since she had been donated by her absent parents. That night, a light had been seen streaking across the heavens towards the east, and she had been prophesied as the next Lady.
For this reason, she had not had the opportunity to interact with many others in the outside world. She had never run through the streets of the town below, or bathed in the brilliant crystal blue ocean, or picked the olives from the trees and tasted their fresh ripe juiciness. And she was grateful for so much, for being blessed as the next goddess was an inconceivably high privilege, and she had wanted for nothing in life. But still, it might have been nice once or twice to have run under the stars, or felt the hot passionate embrace of another person in the dark recesses of the night.
Bakila sighed dramatically and brushed down her long shift before opening the door to her small sleeping chambers and stepping out into the wider temple palace at the top of the hill. Her room was on the third floor of the temple, outside of which a long balcony corridor ran the length of the large inner courtyard. It was still dark outside, the stars wheeling overhead but in the distant east she could make out the first purple-blue lighting of the sky that indicated a coming dawn.
She was up this early because it was her duty to inspect the main offering chamber before the first parishioners arrived seeking The Lady's Blessing. She had to ensure that the incense was filled, the bathing basin was clean and that the residues of yesterday's offerings were cleared away. It was also a very special day today, the day of the Bull Festival down in the town below. So there would be many more people flocking to the temple seeking good luck in their gambles and blessings for the coming harvest ahead.
Bakila made her way down the many ornately painted and carved corridors of the palace, down through the winding stairs and labyrinthine passages which wound their way through the building. She knew the way by heart now and could do it in the dark, so she carried no clay oil-lamp with her to announce her presence.
As she rounded the corner which led into the corridor to the temple, she saw that there was already a pale orangey-yellow light burning inside the inner room. That was strange, she was almost sure that she would be the first one there this morning, no-one else should be awake. Perhaps someone left the lamp burning last evening and it had somehow lasted through the night? Bakila was about to step forwards and enter the room when she heard a noise from inside which stopped her in her tracks. It sounded like a cry, a cry of sorrow or maybe pain, whatever it was made her freeze where she stood. For a moment there was nothing, and she thought perhaps that she had imagined it, or perhaps a distant night bird had screeched out and her sleepy mind had mis-heard it.
Just as she was about to step forwards again and pull aside the heavy red curtain which filled the doorway to the temple, the noise sounded out again, a high, but throaty moan, definitely female. Bakila's brow furrowed, whoever was in there was either in pain or experiencing entirely something else.
Without making a sound, the young acolyte slid her way forwards slightly until she could peek through the gap between the door frame and the heavy curtain. Although the light was still dim and it took a moment for her eyes to focus, Bakila could still make out the form of something which confused and excited her in equal measures.
Sitting on top of the large stone altar in the middle of the room, with her legs spread wide open and her head thrown back was The Lady herself. She had her back to where Bakila was standing so that she could only see the older woman's naked shoulders and long mane of black-silver hair flowing off her head like a waterfall. But her legs were definitely also completely naked and definitely also thrown wide open, with her heels placed just on the edge of the altar, and her arms supporting her weight behind her, From here Bakila could see the full roundness of The Lady's bottom pressing into the cold smooth stone beneath her, and she could also see the sweat beading on the woman's body. She was uttering the occasional small cry and whimper as she reclined on her own offering altar, her hips very lightly gyrating in motion with some unheard music.
The next moment, the reason for The Lady's strange behavior and evident pleasure became clear to Bakila, still spying from behind the curtain. Between The Lady's legs Bakila could make out the shape of another head, bobbing up and down in motion with the thrusting hips. At the same time, she also saw two sinuous powerful looking arms reach up and around The Lady's body, caressing her skin and holding her in the small of her back.
For a moment, Bakila was completely confused by what she saw in the room beyond. Never in her 18 years of life had she ever seen such a spectacle, what was The Lady doing? Who was this other person, and what was she doing to The Lady? She was about to burst in and interrupt this clearly sacrilegious behaviour when the other person, who until now had been mostly out of sight, knelt up a little bit. Their lips and chin were completely drenched in dripping liquid, as if they had just feasted on a juicy fruit with their whole mouth. It was another woman, her face narrow and defined, the jawbone powerful and firm. Her hair, which was long and dark and curly, was tied back behind her head in a thick bun. Her eyes looked up to meet The Lady's gaze with evident pleasure and satisfaction.
Bakila's breath caught in her throat as she realised what was happening. This other woman, tall and lithe with those deep dark brown eyes was knelt between The Lady's legs and was licking, nibbling and feasting heartily on the Goddess's evidently dripping wet pussy. The Lady was also clearly enjoying the experience because she reached forwards with her hand and grabbed the other woman by the hair before forcing her head back down to where she had been feasting. The sounds of soft licking and sucking filtered through the gap between the door and the curtain once more and made Bakila's knees tremble with excitement and fear.
Who was this woman? What was this strange ritual that The Lady was allowing her to perform upon her sacred body? How did it feel to have another woman's tongue buried deep inside her? To have those strong lithe arms wrap around her form and caress her skin? All of these questions and more continued to whirl through the young acolytes mind as she continued to peer through the gap in the curtain, unable to tear her eyes away from the spectacle before her. She felt herself becoming hot and flushed, felt something quiver deep down inside her, and she bit her lip nervously as the tension rose.
There was something else too, a desire that she had sometimes felt but never before recognised within herself. As a woman given to The Lady she had never thought that she would ever be allowed the privilege of lying with another person. She had thought that her life would be one of sacred chastity, given to the embodiment of The Goddess. If she was honest with herself she had seen this as no great loss. Unlike some of the other younger acolytes she had never found herself giggling or staring at the bulky, hair covered forms of the men of the town or palace. They had always seemed to be something of a mystery to her, a foreign land that she had heard of but would never visit.
But now Bakila was being introduced to a whole new world, a world of soft curves and moist lips, of gentle moans and sweat beaded on subtle skin. She had a desire, a need for such a feeling, to feel the touch of another woman and know what it felt like to be treated, like The Lady herself was being ministered to. She felt a hot, needy wetness beginning to brim between her legs. Her own libido had been stirred from a long slumber by the sight that she now beheld atop that altar.
Inside the inner chamber, the sounds of sucking and licking had reached almost a frenzy. Accompanying these sounds were the unquenchable little moans and squeals of The Lady as she bit down on her lower lip in order to try and stifle her cries of pleasure. Her hands were gripping the top of the stone altar with white knuckles and her legs were quivering in their spread position. The other woman, whoever she was, was insatiable, barely pausing to come up for breath as The Lady reached her climax.
When it came, it came with a long, silent drawn out shuddering, The Lady's head dropped back on her shoulders and her eyes rolled back in her head as the pleasure rippled through her. The occasional stifled grunt escaped from between her clenched teeth and her free hand gripped the back of the supplicant woman's head firmly, pressing her mouth into her.
From her position by the door Bakila looked on in abject wonder and some small amount of shame that she was witness to this intimate and sacreligious moment that her Goddess incarnate was experiencing. But she did not look away even for a second, hypnotised by the sight.
Finally the tension went out of The Lady's body and she collapsed backwards onto the altar, spent. Her eyes thankfully were softly closed, or she may have seen where Bakila was concealed. Softly, in a daze the naked prone goddess spoke to the other woman who had ministered to her so expertly.
'Well done, Helene. You have pleased your Lady greatly and I shall bestow upon you my blessing for the trial ahead.' She mumbled through the aftershocks of pleasure.
