The Lamb Crossed Ishtar's Breath
A shepherd's confusion during his first ritual for Ishtar
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Warning
This story contains explicit sex scenes in a religious setting. The themes includes oral sex, and use of psychoactive substances (sacred herbs). The boundaries of consent are (somewhat) explored. If these elements are not ok to you, please just stop reading.
The characters are adults.
I'm not a native English speaker.
Context: The story takes place in a temple dedicated to Ishtar, the complex goddess of love (and war), and it uses ancient symbols from Babylonian antiquity.
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The Young Shepherd Offering : the First Ritual
Ishtar's temple was a peaceful haven, lit by a few sunrays filtering through the claustras and casting patterns on the ground made of large baked tiles. The air was thick with olibanum smoke and myrrh, mixed with a softer fragrance of burnt cedarwood and dried petals. Low whispers of prayers, inconspicuous and rythmic, echoed sometimes like an ancient breath vibrating through the columns.
In the entrance room, an altar made of baked bricks carried the massive and tall sacred statues of Ishtar - she was invoked here under this name, but other called her the Mother with Open Arms, or even by other names.
Dunia, priestess of Ishtar, was seated on a carpet embroidered with star patterns, with a wool pillow dyed with indigo beneath her. She wore a light belted white tunic, leaving one shoulder and here arms bare-naked, adorned with hammered copper straps. Her deep black hair with few braids was tied up in a loose ponytail , and her warm smile emphasized the perfect-features face shared by all the women belonging to this sacred place. Her lips, luscious and naturally pinkish, held a quiet beauty.
Zariku, a young shepherd with a face burnt by the pasture sun, entered the temple with the restraint of a lost lamb. Newly arrived into adulthood, his light hair, thick like the wool of his sheeps, framed deep brown eyes full of innocence and curiosity.
His coarse wool tunic, a bit worn by the paths and the sun, contrasted with the quiet harmony of the holy place. He held in his hand his elm walking stick, polished by time - quite an anchor in this world of complex perfumes and holy stones.
He wanted to ask for a divination regarding his livestock. Guided by a devotee with an enigmatic smile, he had been directed to the third sanctuary where - he was told - he would be heard by Dunia, the one in charge of hearing requests and handling the offerings to the Goddess. When he first saw her, his cheeks turned deep red right away. She was so beautiful, looking so gentle...
The Pure Seed ritual
"Zariku of the faraway Pasture, be welcome", said the woman with a soft and musical voice. "I'm Dunia, priestess of Ishtar. You came to us for a sign, didn't you?"
Zariku nodded, his voice slightly wavering, unsure about the way to speak, or even if he belonged in such a location.
"Yes... I would like to know if my flocks will thrive this year. I was told... it needs an offering to Ishtar. I need my herd to live and breed. Without them, I'm nothing."
"That's correct. Ishtar is generous, but she needs a offering that comes from your very depths. Your seeds."
"
My own seed? Really? In front of the Goddess?
"
He had thought that a well-packed piece of cheese in palm leaves - or, why not, a healthy goat cub - would be be enough.
"The Goddess doesn't feed herself with dry flowers, with prayers whispered out of habits, or just from a bit of milk,"
explained Dunia.
"She requires the lion's strength when he's hunting and the palm sap that reaches the sky. Your gift should be vivid, like the first fruit of the harvest."
The heart of Zariku hit his chest like a blacksmith strikes bronze. Of course, the young Dunia was splendid, almost unreal, and still quite soothing. But nothing could fully calm his turmoil in front of this unforeseen ritual, held in the middle of such a sacred place.
"I want to please the Goddess, yes!! But... I've never given anything like that. And what if my offering is not enough... plentiful? What if Ishtar only sees an unworthy shepherd?"
Dunia gave a soft laugh - a crystalline sound that chased away his confusion.
"
Ishtar cherishes genuineness and delight, Zariku
", she whispered, her eyes shining with an almost godly light. "
She once let herself be touched by a shepherd... You're in your rightful place. Follow your instrincts. And don't worry, you're not alone during the ceremony. I'm here to accompany you through every step of these rites.
"
Dunia stood up and, with a supple gesture, removed her deep red tunic, revealing skin golden from the sun. Her breasts, heavy and proud, rose and fell with the rythm of her breathing.
"
Relax. Ishtar is more responsive when her woreshippers are at ease... and when they are in good hands.
"
She came closer to Zariku until she was brushing against him, a hand on his chest, and then slid her lips next to his ear. Her fingers moved to the lined laced ties that held his clothes together. "
Let me make you ready, young shepherd.
"
While his tunic was leaving the shepherd, his sex remained undecided, as if hesitating between the call of the passionate priestess and the fear of disturbing the holy harmony of a ritual too vast for him.
Seing this, Dunia took a couple of steps toward a table where the flames of a small copper brazier flickered, set with embedded moonstones. With a confident gesture, she opened a wooden box worn by time and took out a handful of dried herbs. Their unfamiliar scent tickled Zariku's nose right away.
"
Breath deeply, and let the fire speak
'', she said while throwing the herbs in the avid flames
A thick smoke, crossed with golden and crimson hues, rose in winding swirls. Zariku inhaled, first feeling the light pungency, then a sweetness that slowly spread through his lungs. With the second breath, his body loosened, as if wrapped in a serene cocoon. Yet, even as his mind was going at ease, his cock raised, thrilling with a life of its own, awaken by the herbs' magic.
The Chant of the Sacred Lips
Dunia then invited him to sit on a large ceremonial seat, covered in thick fabric, and a simple pillow embroidered with a lion was at his feet. She knelt before him, her deep dark eyes sunked into his, and she gently spread apart his legs to reach him more easily.
Now, Zariku, Ishtar will accept your offering through me. My lips will be her instrument, her channel, and your pleasure will be her blessing. Ready to let you carry out?
He nodded, feeling his arousal respond to the promising words of the temple woman. Dunia smiled and leaned forward, her lips coming near the cock that had stiffened by the aroma of the intoxicating herbs, the mesmerizing beauty of the young priestess, and the keen perspective of what was to come.
"
Let go,
" she whispered, her voice vibrating. "
Ishtar welcomes you.
