Acolyte of the Pleasure Goddess

At the plaza center of the sand-colored city of Gra'tan, where sorcerers trade curses with the god-peddlers in the market, the High Temple of Shevlana was filled with the mixing haze of incense and smoke from the braziers, the echoing sermons of the High Priestess that cut above the ambient murmur of private prayer, and -- as always -- the gasps, moans, and soft cries of holy ecstasy that took the place of this temple's choir.

Shevlana was the goddess of beauty, lust, sex, love (these two were clearly different, the priestesses asserted), fertility, and healing. Her temple, with its tall minarets and the central, angular ziggurat of its main building, provided refuge -- and oftentimes relief -- to all those who entered in peace.

As with most of the temples in Gra'tan, at least of those not consecrated to dark powers, Shevlana's temple was home to the usual array of worshipers: the beggars, the sick, and the betrothed, though here this last group had a tendency to either pointedly admire the architecture around them, maintain very firm eye contact with each other, or stare in a kind of wonder at the various sensual devotions to the erotic within the temple. Many a would-be wife -- and a would-be husband -- found a newlywed jealousy at their betrothed's attention on the ever-nude form of the officiating priestess.

Jealousy, however, was not a tenet of Shevlana's amorous religion, and nowhere was this more clear than in the cellae -- the small rooms separated from the central chamber by curtains of beads or silks -- where the acolytes worked.

Many people in the rest of Gra'tan, especially those young initiates of the religions who did not expressly forbid jealousy, called the acolytes of Shevlana by other names.

Supple supplicants.

Holy whores.

Shevlana's sluts.

But for the acolyte Delyssa, as she slammed her hips down and felt the cock inside her strain and release, before following with her own shaking orgasm, she mostly called herself lucky.

Beneath her straddling legs, laying supine on the dark flagstone of her cella, the older boy -- young man, now, Delyssa corrected herself, now that his ritual was complete -- the man thrust up against her once more with a last groan and a shaky laugh. Delyssa smiled back down at him and slowed the grind of her hips. She drew a wet cloth from the bowl of water beside them and bent over him, enjoying his contented, blissful smile at her breasts swinging lightly above him as she wiped the sweat from his brow. After letting him enjoy the moment for a dozen more heartbeats, Delyssa clambered off him and helped the man to his feet.

"In the eyes and body of the Goddess Shevlana," Delyssa intoned, her voice still shaky from her recent ecstasy, "You have lain with your desired sex and both given and received, and so now rise a man. You are newly made, newly pure, and now may enter the world so bettered by your arrival." While she spoke, Delyssa caressed the cleaning-rag across his face, his arms, his chest, down to his legs and groin. The man opened his mouth to speak, but she put one soft finger over his lips.

"Let the first words you say as a new man be of wisdom," she purred into his ear. Delyssa saw a look of panic flash across the young man's face. The burden of thinking of something wise to say might have scared him into silence, so she grabbed him by the wrists and leaned back to look him up and down. "It's alright if your words of wisdom are imparting some of what you learned in this room today to your friends," she said, laughing gently at the relief that flooded his features.

Delyssa could tell that he was still a little overwhelmed from his first encounter, so she fussed over him and helped him get dressed, though she practically had to push him out the beaded curtain, and even then he lingered for a moment outside the doorway before retreating back to the main chamber. She gave a heavy sigh and leaned back against the stone wall, enjoying how cool the dark brick felt against her skin. Her long, straight black hair stuck against her shoulders, and the rest her body, a lighter shade of brown than the stone itself, was dripping with sweat that glittered golden from the dancing firelight of the cella's hanging brazier. Her wide hips and toned thighs ached. She closed her eyes and felt a thick stream of cum exit her and begin to slowly roll down the inside of her thigh.

The beaded curtain rattled to one side. "Well, you look pretty pleased, Del," a voice said. Delyssa kept her eyes closed, but her smile broadened to a grin.

"We served the goddess well," she replied.

"And what's your hand doing there, between your legs? Seems like you're serving her still."

Delyssa opened one eye. Leaning naked against the doorway was a tall, muscular man, dark-skinned with his roped hair tied back behind his head. Jahroud was another acolyte, but two years her senior, already initiated into the next circle of temple service. Like many of the acolytes whose bodies were naturally suited -- like Delyssa's -- Jahroud had an athletic, sculpted physique, but his hairless chest was also impressively wide. Delyssa noted how much of the doorway he took, then her eyes flicked down to his cock, which was hardening before her.

"If you expect me to take care of that, you're going to have to give me a moment," she said, gesturing with the hand still holding the washcloth.

Jahroud grinned, and Delyssa watched his cock twitch in what she was sure was a deliberate gesture. "Not right now," he said, glancing away. "I was told to bring you along to Mother Corporeal. She wants to speak with you. Not sure what for."

"Hmm." The High Priestess Mother Corporeal was a constant presence in the temple grounds, though these days she didn't appear much in the main chambers except for the rare sermon on a holy day. Even rarer was pulling an acolyte out of their daily duties in the sanctuary. As far as she knew, Delyssa hadn't done anything wrong.

"My clothes are back at my chamber in the dormitory," she said, watching Jahroud's eyes eagerly follow her hand as it trailed the cloth up the line of cum up to her vulva that was shrouded in dark curls of pubic hair. "Do you think I should go and get dressed?"

Jahroud shrugged. "I was going like this."

Delyssa considered for a moment and then pushed off the wall, tossing the cloth back into its bowl. Jahroud held the curtain open for her, and the tip of his cock brushed her hip as she passed him into the hallway.

"Lead on, Brother Jahroud," she said, and they set off side by side.

Delyssa's legs wobbled a little as she passed into the main temple chamber, but it was a cadence of step she had long since mastered. An earlier clanging of bells signaled noon-time, and so with the morning's service passed, the main temple of largely empty. A priestess glided between worshipers and guests, leading them through ritual or sending them off to whatever specific service they required, be it clerical healing or fertility ritual, or simply left them to their prayer. Delyssa stared absently at her initiate-brother's erection as it bounced and swung with each step, the two heavy testicles swaying underneath.

"What are you thinking about?" he said, and she looked up and saw that he was watching her with a smile. There wasn't any real reason to be embarrassed, but out of playful spite Delyssa turned her attention to away from Jahroud to her right, and stared at the familiar looming statue of Shevlana that occupied a giant alcove set above the main altar. Shevlana was, at least in her depiction here, a curvaceous goddess. The ancient carvers who had built the temple centuries ago had taken great care in their artistry of the goddess. Carved from the same brown stone as the rest of the temple, the statue had a motherly face beneath long, intricately carved locks of curly hair. Her chest sloped down into two massive breasts that hung low over her rib-cage, beneath which the smooth folds of her stomach and hips sat above a pair of wide-set legs. Her sex was, perhaps uncharacteristically for the rest of her religion, concealed by one of her palms, likely a wise decision from a sculptor uneasy about depicting the genitals of a goddess.

Carved into the alcove in a circle around Shevlana's head were the holy symbols of her cult. The first, of course, was Beauty, represented by the face of the goddess herself. Clockwise to her head was Lust, depicted as a rose flower with a thorned stem; at the three o'clock position was sex, represented by the holy animal of the swallow (when your religion's form of worship was startlingly -- and achingly -- literal, metaphors tended to be simple ones). Love, now positioned nearing Shevlana's hip, was envisioned as a spilling decanter. Fertility was, of course, represented by the womb of the goddess herself, which occupied the six o'clock position on the circle of symbols. The entire left side of the liturgical wheel was composed of the waxing and waning lunar cycle, each phase of the moon carved in an arc from Shevlana's loins up back towards her head. For as much as intercourse featured in the more public (and especially more private) worship of Shevlana, the healing that the lunar cycle represented was core to the Temple's practices.

Pulling her gaze away from the giant statue of the goddess, Delyssa glanced back at Jahroud.

"I was just thinking about how lucky we all are," she said, answering his earlier question. Jahroud nodded. It was an especially common sentiment among the acolytes.

They exited the main chamber and climbed the narrow stairs of the minaret that led to Mother Corporeal's chamber. The cramped, torch-lit spiral stairs forced them to walk in single file, and Jahroud led in front. Another tease, Delyssa thought as she enjoyed the motion of his muscular buttocks at her eye level ahead of her. Eventually, they reached the door to the chamber, one of the few solid wooden doors within the temple, and Jahroud knocked. Immediately, the voice of Mother Corporeal called "Enter" from within, and the initiate-brother stepped into the room.

The thin windows were all thrown open, and gave the round chamber a chill that the rest of the temple lacked. That, along with the appraising look of Mother Corporeal as she turned away from the window towards the two acolytes made Delyssa rethink her earlier decision to remain nude in the High Priestess's presence.

Unlike the naked priestesses working in the sanctuary below, Mother Corporeal wore a long white robe that flowed and folded over her form. Her skin was fairer than most, but still tan (how could it not be after a lifetime spent in Gra'tan), and her graying hair spilled over her shoulders. Mother Corporeal was graceful in all things, and that included aging. She was, if you were liberal in rounding down in Delyssa's case and rounding up in hers, old enough to be the young acolyte's grandmother, though she was still beautiful despite (or because of) the creasing lines that denoted a life spent laughing.

Now, however, she lifted one stern eyebrow at the two naked acolytes, then sighed and gathered her robes as she sat down at her desk. There were two chairs on the other side of the desk, but Mother Corporeal made no invitation for them to sit, so the two remained standing behind them. The High Priestess broke the silence first.

"If you two conspired to fluster me with your nudity, I'm afraid you're several decades too late. When we were your age, Abbot Caimian and I attended service adorned with only a string of beads, and they weren't around our necks," Mother Corporeal said. Jahroud straightened, and Delyssa could feel her cheeks begin to flush.

"I came straight from my cella," Delyssa quickly said. "I didn't want to waste your time by going all the way back to the dormitory to dress."

Mother Corporeal made a face that intimated that this was a passable excuse. "Have you had a busy day so far, Delyssa?"

Delyssa shook her head. "Not really. Just a few rites of emergence. Two girls, a woman, and two boys came to the temple and two women and three men left." It had been a busy day so far, five supplicants wasn't nothing. But Delyssa wasn't about to admit fatigue to the High Priestess before she even knew what this meeting was about.

Mother Corporeal turned to Jahroud. "And you, Jahroud?"

Another shrug, rippling muscles beneath goosefleshed skin. "I like how the air feels," he said, and waggled his hips suggestively, his still-erect cock slapping against his thighs.

Not a twitch from Mother Corporeal's face, which was more than Delyssa could say of Jahroud's penis. The High Priestess folded her hands on the desk and nodded to the chairs. "Sit, Sister Delyssa. I have need to speak to you for awhile. Jahroud, you may go."

Delyssa sat down, the polished wood cool against her bottom. As Jahroud opened the door again, Mother Corporeal suddenly raised her hand. "Actually, I've changed my mind. I can't have you going around terrorizing the other initiates or worse, bothering the other priestesses. You stand there, Jahroud. Delyssa, why don't you relieve your initiate-brother while you listen to me."

As Jahroud started and turned back towards the High Priestess, Delyssa raised an eyebrow to Mother Corporeal. "That sounds like a reward, not a punishment, Mother."

Mother Corporeal simply shrugged. "Shevlana is a merciful goddess. And I want you to listen and not speak."

This probably wouldn't be happening if Jahroud hadn't been so cheeky, Delyssa thought, but she wasn't about to complain. She cast one glance back at the High Priestess for confirmation, who nodded, so she turned in her chair towards Jahroud. The other acolyte was beaming down at her. It was an infectious smile, and Delyssa returned it up to him. Mother Corporeal watched as Delyssa took his turgid cock in one hand and cupped Jahroud's sack with the other. The older woman aimlessly traced the base of a small statuette of Saint Zenzeret on the desk (Zenzeret was the patron saint of convalescence, bedside manners, and drinking lots of water) while the young black-haired acolyte stroked down Jahroud's length, revealing the pale, wet glans as the foreskin retracted. Without looking up at him, she pushed her head forwards, taking him into her mouth. His cock filled her back to the throat, an overwhelming taste of sweat and skin. She could feel it throb against her tongue, and as she shifted in her chair, she could feel her own arousal begin to pool beneath her thighs. It was an ache, a yearning desire to be parted, and she couldn't resist sliding a pair of fingers inside herself. She curled those fingers upwards, stroking that tingling area that sent a jolt of pleasure upwards.

Mother Corporeal watched her for a moment, her only expression one of appraisal. "I've spoken to some of the other priestesses. They say that you're talented in many of our arts, not just the physical ones. Sister Teraen told me your skills at healing have been invaluable when you deign to spend time in the infirmary, and Nelarre said that you're a quick study in the old lore. Even Brother Kallaut mentioned that you're a fine sparrer with the staff, and that sort of praise isn't to be taken lightly from him. But by all accounts, you spend all your time in the cella -- your work there has been good, make no mistake, but I can't feel like you could be put to better use."

Delyssa stared at the High Priestess through the the corners of her eyes, her head still bobbing back and forth against Jahroud's cock. Her initiate-brother put two tentative hands on the back of her head, and pulled her towards him when she gave no resistance. Spit poured out of her mouth and dripped from her chin, running down her neck and between her bare breasts. The hand not fingering within herself was kneading Jahroud's balls, feeling their soft weight in the palm of her hand.

As much of a distraction as sucking Jahroud was, Delyssa focused on Mother Corporeal's words. Put to better use? It's true that the rites of renewal she had been performing were typically done by acolytes in their first year of initiation, and she was already nearly done with her second, but that didn't mean she was neglecting her other responsibilities -- she just found that she liked servicing worshipers in her cella.

The older woman seemed to intuit her line of thought. "We're not at all unhappy with you, Delyssa. The exact opposite, in fact. You're a very promising disciple, which is why we think you need to experience more than just temple duty. We're sending you out of Gra'tan."

Delyssa pulled Jahroud's cock out of her mouth. "What?" Mother Corporeal frowned at the interruption, a frown that only deepened as Jahroud threw his head back with a groan and, gripping his shaft, came in a flood. The first spurt of cum sailed upwards and landed in a long strand across the top of Delyssa's head, hanging down over her opposite ear. The second, third, and fourth streams poured out and onto her face, plastering over her forehead, her right eye, along her cheek, and over her mouth. With a final stroke and flick Jahroud emptied his remaining seed over her breasts, a thin spray that mixed with the saliva and ran down towards her stomach.

The sound of Jahroud's orgasm and the sudden heat of his cum covering her face was too much for Delyssa, and she strained and flexed against her fingers in her own climax. A high gasp escaped her lips that turned into a a loud cry as she also reached her release. She felt a wave wash over her and the tension between her legs suddenly clench and then fall away, out and onto and through her fingers. There was now a puddle on the chair beneath her thighs, and her juices were dripping from her fingers as she removed them from her slit.

She met Mother Corporeal's gaze. On the one side, Delyssa's heavy lidded eyes staring out from a cum-splattered mess, the white of Jahroud's seed bright against her brown skin and contrasted against her black hair and thick eyebrows -- on the other side was the High Priestess' creased frown of mild disapproval that slowly gave way to a wry grin. "Need I repeat myself, my child?" She waited until Delyssa's heavy panting slowed.

"As you know, the Temple of Shevlana has arrangements with the city's guilds. Of course, we provide healing to the the alchemists and the arcanists when their experiments inevitably go awry in exchange for the tinctures and poultices that help compose our more mundane practices. But often overlooked is our relationship with Gra'tan's Campaigner's Guild. On occasion, a group of campaigners will petition our temple to supply them with a capable healer for the duration of their expedition. In return, they grant us a not insignificant tithe from the rewards of their journey."

"Wait," said Delyssa, wiping her hands across her face and through her hair, inadvertently spreading Jahroud's seed across her scalp. The feeling of bliss that had just coursed through her was gone now, drained away, and what remained was an empty pit in her stomach. "You're making me leave the city with a band of adventurers?"

Mother Corporeal shook her head. "I'm not making you do anything, Delyssa. The Guild has asked us for a healer, and we're obliged to send them one. If you truly wish to stay here, then we'll find someone else. There are several acolytes who we think could do, but you're a promising initiate, and truthfully, we're worried that you're becoming... well, complacent."

"Complacent? But I've been doing everything asked of me!"

"This isn't a punishment, Delyssa. It's a test. We've seen that you work hard within the temple -- it isn't a test of faith, we don't doubt you in that. It's a test of strength." Mother Corporeal stood and walked around the desk. She stood in front of Delyssa and reached out for her hands. Delyssa regarded her for a moment and then accepted, placing her hands within the woman's. Heedless of the moisture still sticking between Delyssa's fingers, Mother Corporeal caressed her palms with her thumbs as she spoke.