Invoking the Goddess

Naranha took a deep breath, trying in vain to allay her nerves. She had practiced for this day, never completing the ritual that it would be necessary to finish for the ritual to take place. The healers had already been in to see her and had verified that she was ripe to become the Earth mother invoked by the Babylonian rite. She clad herself in the golden gown that would mark her status as the most favored of the priestesses, chosen by the sacred ritual.

The practices had been long and intense, testing her abilities to the very edge of her endurance. And each time they left her feeling unfulfilled, joined afterward by her life-mate Indira. Indira would massage her sore muscles, would restore pleasurable feeling to her pinched nerves and seared senses. Naranha settled the Tiara of Light atop her head. She stepped out of the quarters that the Earth Mother was always allowed to occupy. There waited four golden-clad priestesses, her guardians. Indira stood in the middle of them and embraced Naranha. The women had been friends since their thirteenth year, when they had first been selected for their duties as priestesses of the sun. They had become lovers shortly thereafter, friends who could talk about the secret rites and the uncaring nature of supplicant after supplicant, who paid high indulgence taxes to pleasure themselves with the priestesses, only to spend themselves in the women's bodies before rudely departing, bathed by the scent of a priestess.

Indira held Naranha at arm's length now and gazed into her large brown eyes. Naranha felt they were her best feature and had even been embarrassed by Indira's love poems about them. Naranha thought Indira was far more beautiful. But, for some reason, Naranha was the one selected. Indira had shown nothing but happiness for her since. Now, Indira looked a little sad. Naranha leaned out and kissed her lover gently on each eyelid. Indira rewarded her with a brave smile. Indira stepped out of the way and Naranha stepped into the middle of her guardians.

The retinue led her through and up into the temple. They came out at the top of the ziggurat, the moon shining brightly over them. Two men stood at the foot of the altar, masked and hooded, but otherwise naked. They stood tall, their members erect. Naranha knew a moment of doubt as she looked at their tools. They were larger than average and she knew that none of her practice partners had matched either of them for sheer size. Her knees were weak and she was led to the altar by her guardians. The high priestess carried a large bowl full of the sacrificial blood. She splashed the muscular chests of the designated Sun Fathers with the blood and it dripped down their bodies, running down their chests and abdomens, over their thighs and calves. From behind her, a set of fingers reached between Naranha's legs. The fingers were talented and knew exactly how to moisten her. As she moaned at the unexpected fingering, the taller of the two Fathers laid down on the altar, his manhood standing straight up. She knew that he had prepared at least as much as she had and that the fertility of the whole valley relied upon their making her pregnant. Still, she could not tear her eyes away from the huge prick that stood up from between his legs. It waved with every beat of his heart. Her guardians lifted her up and settled her onto him, positioning her now-dripping opening above his ready erection. She felt him, long and thick, inside of her.

It felt wonderful and for a moment she felt translated to the status of the goddess that she represented. Her eyes took in his masked face, made up to be shiny, his blue eyes shone brightly as she took him all the way into herself. She smirked at the delight in his eyes, knowing that the average woman probably had trouble taking one in all the way when it was as long and thick as his. Her eyes moved over to his partner.

He had dark eyes that seemed to carry the hint of malice. He had grown bigger, if that was possible, as he was already larger than the one she already held in her. She leaned forward, a sign to him that she was ready for him. She moistened more as his strong form took up position behind her and his big hands pushed her forward, so that she barely held the first one still inside of her. She felt the head of his enormous sword at her vaginal opening. He bore down and she felt it filling her as he pushed it in, slowly increasing the pressure between her legs. She moaned as her pussy stretched to hold both of their gargantuan members. She had felt the next step coming. He was all the way in; so was the other. Now they started to thrust into her in unison. Within seconds, she was stretched bigger than she ever had been. Her vagina struggled to produce enough lubrication for both of them. They were enormous and hot, like spears of fire ramming her heretofore tight slit. The cries of exultation given off by the High Priestess as one of the others lapped at her tender opening were drowned out by the pounding in Naranha's head. She nearly lost consciousness as she knew they must be close. Both of the Fathers were grunting now, deep in the act and ready to end it. The one on top started first, followed closely by the one under her. She felt them emptying themselves in her ready womb. The sperm was hotter than any she had ever felt before, searing itself deep in her body, impregnating her, she prayed to the gods and goddesses, so that the crop would be plentiful. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as a wave of pleasure crested inside of her. Their jerking members had triggered her own pleasure, tempered by the pain of the invasion. She felt them shrinking inside of her, their holy duty done.

But hers was not. The one behind her held her firmly as he pulled out, lest she stumble and fall from the altar. He knew his business and held her up while the taller one slipped out from under her. She looked down and saw their mixed fluids dripping from her. There was also blood there and she knew they had been too much for her tender figure. He lowered her to the altar before stepping down himself. Her guardians took over, flipping her onto her back and lifting her to set her buttocks on the edge of the stone. Naranha lifted her head and, even though she knew it would be this way, started to weep. A line of men, their heads covered with hoods of various description, had lined up. These were the powerful men in the city, who would add their seed to the Sun Fathers', in hopes of helping conceive a child that would foretell the success of the harvest. The first in the line, doubtless the High Priest himself, stepped up and pushed himself into her. She could barely feel his intrusion and wondered how he got pleasure from the act. But, he did. And he emptied himself into her womb quickly.

The line moved quickly, each man taking his turn and pouring his semen into her waiting body. By the time it was over, she was all but numb. Her guardians helped her stand, or else she wouldn't have been able to walk. They assisted her into the temple and carried her downstairs to a huge stone tub that was filled with warm water. They lowered her into it and the water soaked over her body. It flooded her now wide open vagina and she watched the mixture of fluids that poured out of her opening. She wondered if it would ever be the same again.

After her bath, a healer packed her with cloth and assured her that she would recover. She smiled up at the old woman and assured her that she felt much better after a bath and treatment. Then Indira arrived. Naranha cried as her love wrapped her in strong arms. Her tears dripped over the bigger woman's bare breasts. She fell asleep there, wrapped in blankets, in the arms of the only woman she truly loved.