It was not yet sunrise. A crescent moon hung low above the horizon; silver, tinged with ruddy gold; a subtle herald of the dawn that had not yet broken. The pale moonlight barely illuminated the world, giving the white sand a faint glow. Above, the black-purple heavens were painted with a million jewels. Onward their train of horses and camels trundled in a silent but ceaseless progress along a set of tracks in the sand that appeared lead to nowhere and to have come from nowhere. There was nowhere. There was only here. Sand and sky and distance. The rest of the universe had ceased to exist. Time marched on. Every dawn broke the night and every dusk faded the world from view, over and over in a ceaseless cycle and yet, still the tracks stretched out before them as if they made no progress on their journey.
It had been months since Ligeia had been whisked away from Capri on a small sailing vessel with a small cadre of acolytes, of which she was now counted among their number. They were led by their own priestess. She was a head taller than any of them, and slender. She was ever silent and so economical with her movements, that she barely seemed to move at all. Rather, she seemed to appear and disappear at a whim. The priestess wore an immaculate white cloak with an oversized hood within which her face was almost always obscured by shadow. Ligeia had only seen her face once; a briefest glimpse of her, yet the vision had been burned into her mind. The face was beautiful but unlike any she had ever seen - She had dainty features and large, deep-set almond shaped eyes with dark, high arching eyebrows. Her skin had an olive complexion and was as smooth and silky as a child's, yet something about her imparted an impression of ancient wisdom. Her hair was as black as night and impossibly straight. It practically radiated with blackness and was held back with a narrow band of gold that she wore across the crown of her head.
They had crossed the Mediterranean Sea. Ligeia had traveled by sea many times in her youth, having been taken as a prize from her native village near Sparta by a Roman Legion after a fierce battle with Persian forces. The two mighty empires had come together in a great clash of bronze, iron and death, with Ligeia's quiet community of farmers playing host to the worst of mankind's collective evil. Her parents had tried to hide her in the village well with some other children, but, once the Persian forces had been driven from the field, she and the others had become part of the spoils claimed by the victors. She was barely 5 years old at the time and had been sold into slavery at a market in Cairo. A wealthy Roman centurion purchased her as a playmate and companion for his daughter. But a few years later, the daughter fell to a plague and Ligeia was back on the auction market.
It was then that Cassia's father, the senator, had purchased her to care for his own daughter. Cassia already had a nursemaid and a handmaiden. But at that time, her father was a favorite of the Emperor, Tiberius. He was young and ambitious and climbing the elite social ranks of Roman society. With his influence grew his wealth and, as was the custom among the elites, the main use to which wealth was put was to spend it lavishly as a conspicuous show for all to see. That his child daughter would have two companion slaves was simply another ostentatious display intended to impress the neighbors.
As the girls grew into adolescence and their bodies developed, so, too, did their natural carnal desires. It became clear that Ligeia's duties extended beyond dressing and cleaning up after Cassia; it fell upon her and her fellow handmaiden, Athalia, to keep Cassia's lustful intents satisfied, lest she give into the temptation offered by the young men who had begun to take notice of her. As the daughter of a wealthy and popular Senator, Cassia's virtue was far too valuable a commodity to be squandered on some pesky boy with raging hormones. Her hand in marriage would fetch her powerful father even more wealth, power and lands. But only if she were still a delicate, untouched flower.
Not that Ligeia minded this extra duty. Her own body had developed into a robust and striking figure; full and beaming with sexual energy. Unlike Cassia, there was no need for her own virtue to be protected and once the fruits of lust had been discovered, Ligeia quickly learned to relish all of the many pleasures of the flesh in all of its many forms. Skills learned from the men, women, boys and girls of the household were carefully and methodically taught to her master and Domina with an enthusiasm that only exists in the young.
Even for the well-traveled former slave-girl, however, this new journey across the seas had been difficult. The circumstances under which they had fled Capri were stressful enough. To make matters worse the weather had been fickle; sometimes stranding their boat on a flat, lifeless plain for days at a time; sometimes tossing it in a raging tempest that might only last a few hours, but that would fill them all with fear and despair. The whole time, their priestess, a mysterious figure whose name Ligeia still didn't know, captained their vessel with a steady hand and a steely, unflappable resolve.
They finally made landfall one night in a strange port along a dry and dusty coast. They had been taken under the cover of darkness to a safehouse in the port city and were fed strange and exotic foods, including meats and breads spiced with flavors she had never before tasted, as well as dates, citrus fruits and olives. They were attended to by women only; women who smelled sharply of incense and fragrant perfumes. These strange women were covered from head to toe in brightly covered vestments, and they wore veils of silk such that, of their faces, only their dark, mysterious eyes could be seen. The women did not speak. They went about their business, coming and going according to some direction that was obscure to the acolytes.
After two days, the Priestess had come to them and they performed the ritual to the goddess Gondul. Later that night, after feasting, the priestess led them to a caravan of merchants and travelers who were bound for the city of Baghdad, in the heart of the Persian empire. The men leading the caravan had been told that Ligeia and the other acolytes were promised as a gift of wives to Darius, son of the Great King Arsaces the 28th, and so the women were left alone, not to be so much as looked at, let alone spoken to.
For many weeks, they traveled the desert. At first, the going was easy and the land alternated between grasses and rocky outcroppings. The falconers would ride off every morning and return with fresh game for the troupe. But as the days wore on, there was less and less vegetation and few living creatures of any kind. The fresh game became a thing of memory. They land grew dry and hot and before long, they had switched to traveling at night. Their meals became more basic as the journey continued onward - mostly hard-tack bread and crusty cheeses. Water was a precious commodity and was carefully rationed, such that Ligeia's tongue constantly felt dry and swollen in her mouth.
By this time, Ligeia was forlorn. She just wanted the journey to end. She was weary and sore and hot and miserable. She had not bathed in weeks, and neither had her fellow acolytes. The priestess rode a camel just ahead of their carriage and almost never spoke to them. Ligeia had no idea where they were headed or why.
Early in their journey, the acolytes had taken the opportunity of their isolation to amuse themselves with games and stories and song. It was during this time that Ligeia began to get to know her fellow travelers. One of them, a younger woman from Gaul named Ameli, with light, pinkish skin, freckles on her nose and wavy, sand-colored hair, had brought a lyre with her and was quite proficient. Decima, a girl from a small village at the base of the mountain of Pompeii, possessed a lilting singing voice. Another woman, Flavia, who was older than the others, had come from the port city of Neapolis, and was skilled at games of chance, which she taught to the others.
And when songs and games failed to fill their days and nights, the Acolytes sought comfort with one another. Sometimes, a pair of them would set apart from the others and their soft coos and moans would provide the soothing sounds to help the others sleep. Other times, they would play together, all in a group. Ligeia, with her large, full breasts, was a favorite plaything for several of the acolytes who couldn't seem to leave her body alone for very long. She grew to enjoy being caressed and suckled at random times. She might be throwing dice with Flavia, when she'd feel a warm body snuggle up to her from behind and to have a soft pair of hands enter her gown and feel their way to her nipples, which they would roll and pinch between unseen fingers. Or, she might be sleeping and awaken to feel hot, wet lips close around her breast, followed by a gentle, but urgent suckling.
When they would play as a group, she often found her breasts assaulted by two fellow acolytes at once, each one taking one of her mounds while their delicate hands worked together to minister to her sopping cunt. She had but to lie back on her pillows and allow herself to be worshiped, and her orgasms would flow like water over her. It was easy, playful and casual sex. There were no jealousies or possessiveness. They all loved one another and, on one level, each relished the opportunity to share her body with her sisters. But on another level, their deepest love was reserved for the goddess.
