Ch. 06 - the Moremaine Ritual

Doe stretched upon her bed. Why couldn't all nights be like the one in the forest? She thought these lessons were to teach her all the ins and outs of her mother's trade, but repetitive, even boring, had her lessons grown over the past three years. That night with Elinor had showed her something new, something romantic.

And even that was something to look forward to. Besides her prospective duties as a queen, she'd be able to take a husband, just as her mother had. And it wasn't like the other lands, where kings and queens married their children off to build allies, or strengthen bloodlines. The Queen's Trade saw to the security of the realm like no other trade on Rynn. She'd be able to go out and choose whoever she wanted.

She had gone back to the Moonwatch Clear that very next day, and sat beneath the trees. But no faerie fluttered forth, no sign of creature came to dance for her. And as she had sat there she'd thought of what might lie deeper, or sit upon the great mountains that soared over the distant treeline, or roam the wilds of the continent away from the small palace she called home.

The door opened, quite unannounced, and Doe jumped. She was just about to berate the knight who had barged so uncourteously into her chambers, when she realised it wasn't a knight at all. It was the Queen.

"Mother!" she protested, covering her chest with an arm.

"Oh, please, dear, I've seen it all before. I was your age, once, you know?"

"What do you want?"

"Must a mother want anything to come and see her daughter?"

"In your case, yes!"

"You don't have anything you wish to talk about? I'd say get off your chest, if only you had anything on it."

"Well... well yes, in fact!" Doe spluttered, seizing a rare opportunity of bravey.

"Oh, good. I do like a bit of gossip."

"I've outgrown these lessons, mother. I thought they were supposed to be preparing me for anything and everything, but for the last three years I've got very good at one thing!"

"Sir Elinor assures me of that," the Queen smiled.

"And now, I fear, they have become a waste of my time."

"Much you will learn on the Trail, that is what it's designed for. And I know you're growing impatient," she held up a hand, "but it's not very far away now. Three weeks until my little baby walks the Trail all for herself."

"And whilst you're here, and we're on the topic, what is on the Trail? You know how impossible it is to get anything out of the court, and even Elinor refuses to talk about it."

"Elinor is an educated man, but I doubt he could tell you very much about such a thing even if he wanted to, having never walked it himself. But to divulge would be to ruin the surprise."

"You're just like your court," Doe grumbled.

"But that brings us to today's business, because I think I have a treat for you tonight."

Doe edged across the bed and stood up. "If you mean..." she looked between herself and her mother, closing her thin gown around her.

"Of course not," the Queen said without a second's thought. "You're almost twenty-one. I'm going to take you to pay your respects at the monastery."

"My... my respects? Mother, I am not married, and the whole kingdom knows you've had me doing... well, this, for the past three years. I'm not sure how much respect I have to give people who look less favourably upon such activities."

"Oh, come now, that's such an outdated view. The church is much more accepting in this day and age. You were there for your grandfather's funeral. You go every winter for the Coldtiding ceremony. And I'm going to take you tonight."

"Well, at least they're celibate."

"Mostly..." her mother said, and Doe rolled her eyes.

"Why mostly?" she sighed, getting a good idea of where this was going.

"They are the Monks of the Seven. Do you know why seven is such an important number to the church?"

"Because Rynn was made in seven days? Because there are seven prayers?"

"Because on the seventh day of each month, their inhibitions are... relaxed. You're right, the tradition perhaps does go back to the world resting after its creation. But tonight is the night they don't have to abide by such rites."

"You want me to go and fuck a monk, is that it?"

"Not exactly."

"Spit it out. I know you're used to swallowing, but I'd rather know what my mother intends to do with her daughter."

"Well, there are seven days, seven prayers... seven monks..."

Doe did a double take. "I'm sorry? You want me to have my way all seven of them?!"

"Not strictly speaking, my dear," the Queen said, losing patience. "They'll be quite happy to have their way with you. It's called the Moremaine Ritual, and it's all very straightforward. All you'll have to do is lie there whilst they deal you with."

"Sorry?" Doe blurted. "You want seven monks to take turns on me?"

"Oh, they won't be taking turns, Darling. I happens all at once."

"All at once?!" Doe tried to imagine it. "How...where do they all fit?"

"Wherever they can. They're very good at sorting themselves out. And I'll be there in case-"

"Oh, this just gets better."

"But they've not, as they put it, sinned for the past month. It's all over very quickly."

"So just to get this straight... tonight my own mother is going to take me up to the Moremaine Monastery, the most consecrated retreat this side of Casavar Mountains, gather the priors, and expect me to act as pin-cushion to their eager little pricks?"

"It' not that bad dear. Now I'm not going to make you do it, but I am going to make you visit the abbey with me. And if you choose to sit out, then you'll just have to watch your mother perform her queenly duties. But I thought you'd seen quite enough of that recently."

And so it was that, moaning and grumbling, Doe found herself following her mother up to the moonlit hill upon which Moremaine Monastery stood. It wasn't that she particularly objected to it- in some ways the prospect of having seven men fawning over her quite excited her - but the walk was long, and for obvious reasons she had never looked upon the monks of the abbey in an amorous light.

It was almost eleven o'clock, and the moon hung silver over the ocean beneath the chalk cliffs the convent was built upon. Doe had to admit it, it was a beautiful night. As they neared the summit, Linette handed Doe a small vial, and she rolled her eyes as she recognised the viscous liquid. Wherever they can fit, she remembered her mother telling her.

They climbed the final steps and found themselves in an ornate courtyard. And before the grand portico of the towering bastion, seven hooded figures stood waiting. Doe immediately pulled her slippery hand from the back of her knickers.

"My good Queen," the central monk said, and Doe was dismayed to hear the years on his wheezing voice. "Welcome, once more to our convent."

"Why, thank you, Abbott Sagranel."

"I see you have brought company. Do you plan on putting on a show for the young vixen?"

"I rather think she's going to put a show on for you," the Queen said slyly.

"Oh, is that it? That is most irregular, but I think we can make our laws work around such a technicality. She is royal blood, after all. Come closer, girl," the Abbott now gestured at Doe, and the Queen ushered her reluctantly forward.

"Yes, the resemblance is uncanny. I do hope you've inherited a certain set of assets."

"Mum, you can go now!" Doe hissed.

"Nonsense, my dear," the Abbott wheezed. "It's a long way back down the steps. Your mother will want to see her daughter's progress, I'm sure. And if she was so inclined, then she would be more than welcome to join us."

"That is not going to happen!" Doe snapped. "Right," she sighed, "where are we doing this?"

"This is the Altar of the Roleth, the olden name for the seventh day on which our god duly rested, and his duties deserted him." The Abbott let her over to a stone plinth in the middle of the courtyard. It was conveniently waist height. "If you are willing, you shall lay yourself upon it to pay homage to the work done here at Moremaine."

Doe glanced at her mother, who nodded eagerly. The monks moved forward, forming a ring around her. So this was it, she thought. If she closed her eyes, it might not be half-bad.

No sooner had she removed her dress and pulled down her panties did she feel a hand cup her behind, and a second hand lean her forward onto the altar. She felt something slide against her thigh.

"She's been made slippery," said the monk at her rear.

Another positioned himself at her head. Pulling aside the loose-fitting burlap, he revealed himself and stroked himself against Doe's cheek, who couldn't believe the manners of the monk. Was he just going to rub himself across her face? But eventually she felt him grow, and the appendage become rigid as he found her lips, and pushed himself in.

At the other end, she felt the second monk do the same, and moaned into the cock in her mouth, as both began to move in and out of her. And suddenly it was as though she was back in one of her lessons. The monks were gone. She had one cock in her mouth, one in her pussy, and she would take them until they filled her. The only difference was that she much preferred being fucked on a mattress than on granite.

And her mother had been right. The monk before her had barely hit the back of her throat- making Doe rasp- when he picked up his urgency. Within four or five strokes into her face he slipped out. Doe gasped for air before her face was laced with the sticky liquid. She closed her eyes as she took it, but a reasonable amount landed in her gaping, panting mouth.

And at the other end, the performance wasn't much stronger. Doe had barely grown accustomed to the hard surface beneath her when he began seizing her hips so he could pump her harder. And most pleasurable it was, for the briefest of times. Before she was so much as half-stimulated, the frantic ramming slowed. Unlike his compatriot, this monk did not pull out, and after a moment buried inside of her she felt him drip out.

"Your daughter will make a fine queen," said Abbott Sagranel.

"You've not seen anything yet. Treat her as you would me. How many do you think you can fit inside her?"

At this, Doe was manoeuvred onto her back, and she obliged. A shadow fell over her, cast by the full moon overhead. She felt a pair of hands grab her head and tilt it downwards, overhanging the end of the altar. She felt something thick and sturdy sweep across her face, and once more opened her mouth ready.

At the same time her legs were spread be a pair of hands and lifted up towards her chest. And now the fun really began. Something, larger than before, pushed its way into her between her legs, and she gasped loudly. And then, already stimulated by the first round, she moaned with pleasure as she began to get fucked properly.

On her back, with her head hanging off the end of the table, she began to take the initiative. Her tongue found the cock on her lips, and her rocked her head forward to guide it in. And in it slipped, swiftly and suddenly, sliding smoothly against the inside of her cheek. She felt his balls against her forehead as the monk pushed himself over her tongue.

But now hands fondled her naked breasts. Her nipples were rubbed until hard. And downstairs she was getting the same attention. She wasn't used to this much going on. Her senses were alive. Why, instead of just Alfred, had they not sent five men to please her instead? She felt fingers, and tongues, in places that alone might have been ungratifying and off-putting, but collectively added to the sensory tapestry, an orchestra against her skin. The monk at her head was almost in the back of her throat, but she hadn't so much as gagged at the appendage pinning down her tongue.

She felt poked, prodded, pleasured everywhere, even those places she only usually let Elinor go. And as if on puppet strings, her fingers found the grip of another monk's member, and she began to fondle it, smiling- as best as her situation allowed- as it extended and broadened in her hand. She spread her legs even wider.

She wasn't sure how the monks had arranged themselves. She didn't so much care. But she was aware of one now trying to take advantage of the vial her mother had given her. She reached down, to lift a buttock, to spread herself, and felt a bulbous head waiting at the entrance. Slowly, she lowered herself, as the monk pushed up. She moaned with shock as he slipped himself in, but her cry was muffled in her throat.

But any discomfort was quickly overridden by everything else going on. She really did feel like a pin cushion now. Unlike the brevity of their predecessors, the monks were still going strong at both ends. The most recent addition was firmly buried in her behind, and she even juggled herself up and down to encourage his contribution.

"That's more like it," she heard her mother say with glee, and Doe scowled.

How many were around her? There were three in her, and at least two or three giving her attentions elsewhere. Was she really servicing all seven of them?

The first to go was the one at her head, and glad she was of it. She felt him quicken, and took a deep breath through her nose as she felt him get close. And then her throat was pushed open. Her lips were forced against the monk's stomach, and she felt the warm liquid being injected down her throat. She spluttered, eyes bulging as she took the load. And then it hit the back of her throat once, twice, three times more as she leeched every last drop from the monk.

Eventually he pulled himself out, and Doe coughed, propelling droplets out onto her face. And not long after she was showered from either side as her handjobs achieved their purpose. One aimed himself at her already-glistening face, the other across her chest as they relieved themselves onto her cheeks and breasts. And as they retired, she massaged her breasts, rubbing the substance off and into them, fondling her erect nipples as she did.

And still, the two monks were still going at the other end. Now her hands were free, she lifted her knees up to her shoulders, and felt an extra inch slip into her. And now she didn't hold back the moans as they went. Whether it was the sheer volume of cocks upon her, she did not know, but felt herself near climax way sooner than she ordinarily would. And she could feel the same from the monks. She was glad as their pace picked up, and she encouraged them as they pounded in and out of her ass and pussy, for combined, their contribution brought her more pleasure than she could remember having.

"Fuck me," she panted. "I'm ready. Give it to me."

And she pulled her legs even further above her head, willing them to push every millimetre into her. And then she felt them tense, as she did. She reached down, and massaged herself. A stream of liquid shot from her, covering the monk, which in turn set him off. One... two... three thrusts, and she felt herself fill, in one, and then in both holes. The monk withdrew from her ass, and so tense she was that she expelled the stream of cum with it.

"Bravo, Princess," came the aged voice of Abbott Sagranel. "Perhaps it is your mother who ought be learning from you."

"I very much doubt that, my dear prior," the Queen said. "But after the Trial, who knows. I trust she's serviced you to a... satisfactory standard."

There were a number of curt nods as those to finish most recently wiped down and tucked themselves back into to their burlap robes.

"Well in that case, I think I will see my daughter dressed and escort her back down to the palace. It's not a short way, after all."

"And I doubt any of us are far off bed after that," the Abbott said, and then turned to Doe. "You shall make a fine queen, one day."

"Thank you," she said, biting her tongue, and knowing that any comment of scathe or sarcasm would land her in more trouble than it was worth. "Some of your monk were of a... satisfactory standard."

Sagranel chuckled. "You take after your mother, alright."

And with that the Abbott Sagranel led his procession back into the abbey. Doe took one last look at the moon hanging high over the sea and began to make her way down the cliff-side path, dreading what conversation her mother was going to fill their journey with.