She was lying on her back, and had been for a while now, looking at the ceiling of his little room while he watched her chest gently rising and falling. Eventually he realised that he was the one who would have to break the silence before it became too awkward.
"You alright?" Zhair'lo asked Anzha.
She nodded, a bare whisper of assent passing through her lips. He hadn't hurt her. The mesh let him know that much.
Okay, he admitted to himself, he knew that he hadn't hurt her body.
There had been a very strange combination of fear and courage in her mind, well beyond what he'd felt from any of those he'd bedded before. Virgins all, and yet Anzha was different. Maybe it was a mistake to ever think that there would be two quite alike.
Maybe?
Definitely.
Propped up on his elbow, he looked in to eyes that refused to look back in to his.
"You seemed scared," he ventured.
"A little," she said, a light whisper fading in to the windless night air.
He didn't know where to go from there, so he laid a hand on her belly, letting just the tips of his fingers touch her skin. He dragged them slowly up her body.
She shivered in response and closed her eyes.
Good or bad?
A tear escaped the corner of her eye.
Why was she crying?
She rolled over suddenly, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in his chest.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
"Wh-Why?" was all he could stammer in reply.
A sniffle escaped her then, before she took a breath to calm herself. Finally their eyes met, hers glistening with tears.
"I shouldn't cry," she said firmly.
"No?"
"No," she replied, quick and smart. "It's just -- it's been a long wait."
"I heard," Zhair'lo said sympathetically.
"I just didn't know what to expect," she said. "What if I did something wrong? I'd imagined it -- how I would do it. But what if that's not the right way? What if it's not the normal way?"
That was a load to take on -- the idea that she could be as unsure as he was. Talla had seemed so confident in her actions that first night. He imagined all women to be so.
"You didn't do it wrong," he said. "I'm sure of that."
She laughed lightly through her tears.
"And you know?"
"I guess so," he replied. "We can do it any way we like, I think. I wouldn't know the wrong ways from the right."
"We're supposed to -- they tell us -- we're supposed to be on top."
Zhair'lo shrugged.
"We can try that next," he assured her.
At which point she punched him, in a gentle manner that told him he'd probably said the right thing.
-----------===================-------------
What now?
All that Talla wanted to do was go back to her room and possibly play with herself in peace and quiet. But no. For some reason, there was an Initiate standing at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment. She was dressed somewhat like Talla: the same tiny skirt on her bottom while her smaller chest featured only the simple rectangular top.
If you were Point, she thought, I'd be able to tell through that top. If you were Abundance, that top wouldn't fit. And an Initiate in Strength would have a broader chest than you have, never mind an upgrade in Point or Abundance.
You, she glared accusingly, are not of Endowment. So what are you doing here?
"Talla?" the girl asked as she approached.
"Yes," she confirmed suspiciously.
As she closed on the intruder, she noticed the badge on her hip. Two snakes wrapped around a triangle. It made her a physician's assistant.
"The Second of Within requires your presence in a medical matter," she said. "It is very urgent."
That explained how this girl had gotten in to the Endowment triangle. Medical emergencies could allow for that. What medical matter could be so important and involve her?
"Should we run?" Talla asked, hoping they hadn't discovered disastrous with her health. "I just got upgraded."
"We should make good speed," the girl responded. "Come."
They would set a brisk pace, then.
"What is this about?" Talla asked.
"It's best that my Mistress explains it."
-----------===================-------------
"Maksa Ayella, Keeper of Lips," the Sorceress intoned so her voice would carry to those gathered around.
"Mistress," Maksa acknowledged with a bow.
"Sisters all," the Sorceress of Pussy called out.
"Mistress," they chimed in unison.
It wasn't a small gathering. There were dozens of women of differing ranks who had formed a circle around the Sorceress in green and the Keeper in yellow.
"Today we welcome a new sister to our ranks," Pussy said.
"Welcome," they called back.
"Every woman who joins us, joins us in the same state," the Sorceress said. "You, too, shall rise as one of us just as every Virgin girl becomes a woman of Pussy."
"As you wish, Mistress."
Maksa had been surprised to learn how easily she could switch Disciplines. Her own Mistress -- her former Mistress -- had already released her to travel. That had made getting that permission irrelevant, at least so her new Mistress had said. All she'd needed was the permission of the Sorceress of Pussy, which had been pre-granted.
So here she stood, waiting for the ritual to continue. She wondered if every Discipline had its own ritual for this sort of thing, or was it just Pussy? Most of the others couldn't really do anything like this, could they?
Step one.
The Sorceress of Pussy undid the small metal catch on her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Such luxurious hair. It would be so soft to the touch, were Maksa permitted to touch.
But Maksa stood, making no movement, as all around her the others of her new Discipline followed suit, stripping off their jeweled orange bottoms, their stylized yellow skirts, their solid white skirts embroidered with blue. They'd all come out with their nicest clothing for this private ceremony in Principia Pussy.
Maksa was last. With a Sorceress, seven ranks above her, standing there without a stitch covering her below the waist, Maksa ought to be several ranks past complete nudity. Nine hells, the only people with any clothing on ought to be the Second of Pussy who would get away with wearing her bikini top. Officers, if they chose and had one handy, could wear a single sash and leave only one breast exposed., but the only way they'd get a single sash was to steal one from an Acolyte II ... who would also have to be naked.
But those complex Protocols weren't for this occasion. Everyone kept their tops on. Everyone took their bottoms off.
And Maksa, as the centre of this ceremony, was the last to slide out of her simple yellow skirt.
"Be seated," the Sorceress told her.
Obediently and quietly, as befit the solemnity of the occasion, she sat on the small reclined chair provided and laid back.
The Sorceress clapped her hands twice, a signal for two attendants in white to come forward with a small basin of hot water and cloths. Maksa took them for Virgins, though with bottoms missing, there was no way to tell them from Initiates. They placed their basin at Maksa's feet and knelt down in front of her.
Maksa, ready for this, spread her legs as one of the younger girls soaked a cloth in the water. Both of them had the bare fuzz of pubic hair that denoted a single step in rank; a single upgrade. Maksa, having started in Lips, was only one step beyond them in this matter. There were things unsettled in her mind. Would they give her the two upgrades in Pussy so that she could properly be a Keeper of Pussy? Would that violate the rules about upgrades? A Keeper ought to have four upgrades within her Division. Maksa currently held four in Lips, two in Pussy and two in Within. If they brought her up to four in Pussy, she would be holding six in Within and Lips when she should only have four -
Her thoughts were knocked aside by the careful application of a hot cloth to her genitals. The girl in charge of that ministration carefully kneaded at her lips through the cloth, making sure they would be soft and warm. Maksa stifled a sudden urge to urinate.
The cloth was drawn away and the second Virgin came forward with an unusually fragrant bar of soap in her hands. She dipped it in the water and lathered her hands. There was an immense amount of lather from the bar. It must have been specially made for these sorts of occasions.
This hot, soapy lather was delicately spread over her pussy until all of her hair was buried beneath it.
When that act had been satisfactorily performed, the Sorceress clapped her hands again. The two girls bowed and backed away in to the crowd. Another came forward. This was an older woman whose orange bikini top indicated the rank of Acolyte.
Maksa was relieved, in a way. Best to have this done by someone with a steady hand.
This woman, like the Virgins, knelt at her feet. It made Maksa feel awkward, having someone so obviously senior in such a position relative to her.
From her hand, the woman produced a small blade which she carefully soaked in the steaming water. Maksa bit her lip as the blade was laid along the flesh of her belly and slowly stroked through the cream covered hair between her legs.
Two upgrades, she thought, and they shear it away just like that.
It would grow again, just as before. The upgrades weren't really gone, just symbolically and temporarily removed. The flesh underneath knew to bring it back.
Nevertheless, the blade swept her hair in smooth strokes, leaving a bare and tender skin behind. In a few expert flashes of the blade, her mound was cleaned of both soap and hair. She felt more naked now than she had been in all the times she'd ever exposed herself to anyone, man or woman. Now she was like one of the Virgins in her dormitories.
The Adept finished her work and stood up, giving a nod of satisfaction to her own work.
Almost immediately, a young girl in a white bikini top came forward with a towel so Maksa could dry herself off. It felt very strange, running that towel over her shorn genitals. It just wasn't a done thing, going back to bare skin after having one's first Pussy upgrade. Yet, here she was, plain and bald as any of the girls that had passed through her dormitory these last few months.
This was a tradition in Pussy, was it?
Maksa stood up to face her new Mistress, who was still as bottomless as all others. In this crowd, pubic hair all around, Maksa suddenly felt the most juvenile.
