It was said that the bodies of dmurrhisi girls were only sensitive to the power of the Goddess when they were exposed to it by their mistresses, were placed under the spell. Ellen knew that Sisterhood girls, or at least those who had learned to attune themselves to the presence of the Goddess, would be experiencing her power right now as a visceral, palpable charge. More diffuse, and nowhere near as acute or as debilitating as the agony of the spell, but longer-lasting, and without intermediary. The feeling of the Goddess dispensing her favor directly, in the aftermath of the rite of offering. The boon, they sometimes called it.
When Ellen had first come to the Sisterhood, it had bothered her. The unfairness. Maybe more than the desire to actually experience the boon, what had nagged at her imagination most was the need simply to know what it was like, even second hand, not to be left out of what seemed like an important aspect of how Sisterhood girls, and in particular her mistress, experienced the world. The desire to know, about this and about so many other things, had driven Ellen on over the first few years, as she had coaxed and wheedled and seduced her way into Lisa's confidence.
Ellen still recalled her surprise at the curious arbitrariness of the first detail that Lisa had divulged. She had spoken of a pleasing, metallic taste in her mouth, one that lingered over several days following the rite of offering. Later, she had told of a pricking at her skin, a general feeling of sensitivity, of alertness, and above all a serene sense of strength and self-assurance.
Ellen looked up at the polar grid of little octagonal skylights in the dome above. The bright mid-morning sky dazzled through, made them appear like stars. Yet they were small enough, and far enough away, that overall the light in the hammam was dim. She could see one patch of direct sunlight on her bare thigh. But elsewhere, her pale skin appeared grayish, dusky, in the half-darkness.
She was fairly sure that right now she wasn't experiencing anything like what Lisa had described, or at least not with that same intensity. But maybe there was something, the germ of a special mental and physical state that went just a little bit beyond everyday excitement. Or she was deceiving herself, scrying for something that she wanted to be there.
She shook her head, rubbing the back of her scalp against the wooden pallet beneath her, and cast her ruminations aside. It had been a particularly fun year, this one, and she was still coasting on the euphoric afterglow. If her skin prickled pleasurably, it was because of the heat and humidity of the hammam, and the anticipation. She was excited, that was all. There would be a gradual comedown later, maybe tomorrow or the day after, but for now she was still riding the tail end of the great spasm of self-indulgence that was the Summer Ball. And of course there was her prize on the way.
The other girls would be here in a few minutes. She could feel a giddy smirk on her face, was even slightly ashamed at how pleased she was about it. It was just a bet, after all, a game. Most of the others probably saw it that way, didn't think much of it. But for Ellen, there was something more than just the simple pleasure of winning, or the prize itself. Her win was an affirmation of the abilities she had taken such care to hone, of her fitness for her calling. She had read the girls correctly, both dmurrhisi and Sisterhood. Maybe, she flattered herself, she had even played some of them. Nudged them at least. She more than any other ka'ini knew how things worked here. She was more than just a plaything.
This particular little tradition had already been in place when Ellen had found the Sisterhood. It was observed by the ka'ini who in a given year had the honor of attending and grooming the new girls. Each attending ka'ini would bet on one of the new girls, for first pick. The game was in a way a lighthearted mirror of the grander, more consequential decision on which it depended. A consolation for being excluded from it, and even perhaps a satire of sorts, a subtle means of puncturing the Sisterhood's pomp and theatrics.
At first, the tradition had dictated that each of them back the girl that they attended. It seemed somehow fitting. But Ellen had been among those who had eventually steered the game towards a free choice. She enjoyed that a lot more. It made it less a game of chance and more a game of skill. To make a good bet meant knowing something about the intrigue that went on among the Seven, their friendships and their rivalries. And it meant reading other girls well, guessing how they might behave, and what about them might appeal to whom.
Free betting did have one minor downside, however. Being free to choose one's champion meant of course that more than one girl might have backed the winner. And that meant in turn that the prize might be shared.
Ellen kept her eyes fixed on the hypnotic sparkle of the skylights above as she groped out to her side with one hand. She felt the smooth, warm skin of another girl's stomach. She became aware only then of a soft sound beneath the echoing drips of the steamy hammam. A shrill, purring snore.
Ellen slid her hand downward and felt the brush of short, trim pussy hairs against her fingertips. The snoring stopped with an abrupt snort, "Huh? Who...?"
"Mari," Ellen whispered, smiling to herself, "You fell asleep. You lightweight."
Mari grunted and brushed Ellen's hand aside, "Lightweight. Har har."
Then there came another sound, from the far doorway. The faint patting of several pairs of bare feet on the stone, along with one much louder, rhythmic slap. Someone was wearing flip-flops.
"They're here," Ellen whispered, "The losers."
Mari giggled, "Our little slut slaves for the rest of the morning."
Ellen felt a slow writhing motion beside her. She turned her head onto one side and saw Mari rubbing herself, purring excitedly as she worked her hand against her pussy. Ellen spread her legs a little and allowed herself a few seconds of brief caresses. She stroked her fingers lightly against her hairs and against the soft skin either side of her pussy, not quite touching, merely teasing herself, stoking the swell of heat that had started to gather momentum.
When she heard the wooden doors of the hammam flap open, she whipped her hand away and tucked both hands behind her head, then squirmed herself down, getting as comfortable as she could. The doors swung to and fro as the other girls filed in, each swatting the flimsy wooden panel aside as she entered.
Louise entered first. The flip flops were hers. She cast them aside with a kick from each of her long, thick legs. She was naked, her tanned skin a dark gray in the dimness of the hammam, and her wispy blonde hair tied back to bare her neck. Behind Louise came the two other tall girls who had assisted Louise at the bar, each in a string bikini. Kathrin, with her slender figure and her damp tousle of frizzy hair. And Natalie, with her soft, heavy curves and pale skin, and the bright red of her dyed hair standing out even in the gloom.
Then Shireen and Aria. Like Louise, they were naked. Their dark skin almost blended away in the shadows, hid them but for their excited eyes and the flash of Shireen's bright white smile. Though not as tall as the first three girls, Shireen stood a good head taller than Aria.
"So," Louise announced, "Here to do your bidding. What do our two winners wish for?"
"Quiet bitch," Mari giggled, "Speak when you're spoken to. There's a bottle of oil warming on the stone. Get to work."
There was a deep chuckle from Louise, "Okay. It's going to be like that, is it?"
"I said quiet!" Mari hissed.
Ellen couldn't halt a sudden cry of laughter at the incongruity of Mari's tiny squeak of a voice trying to sound imperious, "Give it up, Mari. We all know you're not cut out to be a mean mistress. Just tell them what you want."
Ellen heard a snort of indignation from beside her. "I can be very mean when I want to," Mari grumbled.
"So?" said Louise. Two of the other girls padded round to behind the wooden pallet, where Ellen and Mari had left two tall decanters of oil to warm on one of the stone seats.
"All five of you have to make me come," Mari announced petulantly, "And I mean properly. It only counts if you can feel it pulsing. And I'm not going to make any effort at all, not even move or anything. You bitches have to do all the work."
"Original," Ellen murmured.
"Okay, so what have you come up with smartass?" said Mari, "You probably want them to deliver a lecture on... on... the history of dickgirls or something."
Ellen bit down on a sudden giggle. She had to concede, with a slight reluctance, that Mari's retort was amusing. She tried halfheartedly to think of a comeback with which to escalate, but none occurred to her.
"Hah. I get enough of those, thanks," Ellen addressed the girls standing around them, "No, you are also going to make me come. But once is enough. The only rule is no touching."
"No touching?" Kathrin asked.
