Acolyte of the Pleasure Goddess Ch. 03

"Aliot?"

"I think so, yeah. He was a good fighter, strong magics, but not great healing, to tell you the truth. He was called away to that damn business in Dertath. Cenhera's pissy about it. She had a huge crush on him."

Delyssa laughed. "What can you tell me about her?"

"Cen? She can be a rascal. Dangerous, too, if you get on her bad side. She's both our sneak and our mage. As quick with a knife as she is with a spell. Shame she only does illusions, though."

"And what about Vael?"

"Well, Vael's your straightforward paladin, really. Honorable. Wicked swordsman. Probably bad in bed."

"Why do you say that?" Delyssa asked, trying to sound casual.

"Well... he's a paladin. All virtue, they are. I've never seen him sneak off to lay with anyone, at least." A thought intruded into Delyssa's mind: I would like to see that for myself.

"What about you?" she asked the warrior behind her.

"That's a little personal, lass," Brynwa laughed.

"I meant, what's your story?" she said.

"Oh, I don't mind." Brynwa's hand trailed a little further up Delyssa's thigh, pushing up the fabric of her skirt. Delyssa felt her skin tingle at the touch. "I'm just a fighter. That's my story. That's all there is. I like some men," Brynwa brought her head close, her husky voice low in Delyssa's ear. "And I like a lot of women."

The streets around them were now entirely unfamiliar, dark in the shadow of tall buildings. Ahead, Delyssa could see the bright rectangle of light in the open Questing Gate, the portal to Gra'tan's countryside and surrounding desert. Her feet dangled helplessly on either side of the horse. The rolling motion of the animal's shoulders put her in mind of riding a man. Delyssa pressed herself back against Brynwa. The party was traveling in single file, Cenhera close behind Vael, about thirty paces ahead of them.

In a synecdochical gesture, Brynwa's fingers went themselves questing between Delyssa's legs. She closed her eyes as the gate near and focused on the sensation of the warrior's inquisitions.

"Gods, you're already wet," Brynwa breathed into her ear. Delyssa just smiled.

For all her talk, the fighter was a little clumsy in her probing, more like the young men who came to the Temple for their ritual ascensions into adulthood than the skill Delyssa imagined an experienced adventurer would possess. Certainly not as expert as any of the priestess from the previous night's passions. She found it charming. Still with eyes closed, she took in the shifting scents as the city smells gave way to the countryside, the feel of the sun on her right side as they rode out of Gra'tan's north wall. The gentle but eager pulls around her labia as Brynwa fumbled for her clitoris beneath her skirts.

In front, Vael urged his horse from a walk to a trot, and Cenhera did the same. Cursing softly, Brynwa spurred her own mount as well, and the swaying rhythm beneath them changed to a more chaotic bounce over the cobbles. Brynwa still had two of her fingers pressed against Delyssa's opening, pinned between her skin and the leather saddle.

"I've heard a lot about your religion," whispered Brynwa. "People talk in every adventurer's tavern on the road from here to the North. 'What's there to see in Gra'tan?' I'd say, and they'd lower their voice and talk about the Cult of Shevlana."

The warrior gave up on precision and plunged her fingers deep into Delyssa, causing the acolyte to gasp. "What did they say," she said through gritted teeth.

"That your priestesses all go naked, and fucking is prayer to them. Anyone can go into the temple and pick an acolyte, man or woman, and take them to bed for as long as they want."

"Exaggerations, mostly," Delyssa said. They were among the farmhouses and clay structures on the outskirts of Gra'tan outside of the walls now. Ahead of them, the landscape opened up into vast fields: flax, barley, wheat. The hills that hugged the city were lined with thousands of olive trees. Brynwa was exploring Delyssa's own walls. It was nice. She was not hungry for any escalation in this first intimacy between herself and the fighter. It was somewhat disarming to be casually touched by a new partner.

"It's true about the priestesses -- our only vestment is our bodies. But we have prayers like any other religion, even if the conditions of their recitation are different. And not anyone can just walk in to lay with us. We can tell when someone is not interested in our goddess or our rituals. That type of seeker, we try to bring them into the services first. Maybe it's a simple tithe, or some labor in the orchard, or if they sit through a sermon. That's good, I like that. Keep doing that," she added as Brynwa's fingers stroked inside her, caressing that spot that sent powerful tingles of pleasure through Delyssa's groin.

"The brothels must hate your temple," said Brynwa. "You must be stealing all their business."

"You'd be surprised. There's a shrine to Shevlana in almost all of them. We help each other out. We give them charity and coin, but mostly we have an understanding to direct patrons to one another. The ones who are just looking for sex we redirect to there. The ones there who look for something else get sent to us."

"'Something else?' Like what?"

"One of the first things we learn as initiates to Shevlana is how many reasons there are for wanting to have sex. Release is a fine one - goddess, it's a good one -- but there are more. I guess you could say that brothels specialize in a single kind intimacy. The Temple of Shevlana provides many others."

As she spoke, she reached down and guided Brynwa's fingers in deeper, arching her back against the warrior with a stifled groan of pleasure. She gripped the fighter's larger hand and pushed it into a rhythm.

"You'd best come quick," Brynwa growled into her ear. "This angle is all sorts of uncomfortable, and this is my sword hand."

Delyssa surrendered to the pleasure of Brynwa's fingering and a shudder escaped down her thighs. She closed her eyes again and thought of Jahroud, back at the Temple, laying back in the grass and stroking himself before her. That morning's memory -- still vivid -- pushed her towards her climax as much as the warrior's plunging fingers.

"I can feel your cunt flexing," said Brynwa, speeding up her groping. With her other hand, still clutching the horse's reins, Brynwa found and squeezed Delyssa's breast, tweaking the nipple beneath her linen chest-wrap, sending another bolt of sensation coursing through her body.

My cunt. In the temple, the word felt vulgar. There was no discomfort with describing the body with the formal names -- beneath the acolytes' robes (when they were wearing any) were penises and vaginas, and calling them such felt as straightforward as reading a scroll. Already, so soon after setting out on the road, the words felt different. These were adventurer's words. My cunt. Brynwa's fingers set their fastest pace yet, the sopping sound of their movement just audible over the clop of horseshoe upon cobblestone. My cunt. She let it rise up from within her, the clench and release of that warm flood that rose up from her hot, wet cunt and shook up her abdomen to her head and down each of her limbs. Her head lolled back onto Brynwa's shoulder behind her. Through heavy lids she stared down the road, her gaze falling upon the paladin Vael, his armor gleaming in the morning sunlight, riding in his saddle with a fluid grace. He cast one glance back over his shoulder - not long enough to see what Brynwa was doing, Delyssa thought -- and she came while staring at the back of her head, biting her lip to avoid crying out.

She fell slack in her own saddle, nearly collapsing against Brynwa, who moved her hand from her breast to around her waist to support her.

"Ye gods," the fighter said. "You've soaked through." Delyssa looked down, pulled aside the front of her skirt and saw that the white cloth between her legs was a dark stain. Brynwa removed her fingers and sucked on them, lapping up the fluid from Delyssa's sex as if it was honey.

"Was that enough of a distraction for you?" she said. "Look, we're out of the city and into the farmlands now."

Still taking deep breaths to steady herself, the world around her far too bright, Delyssa looked around. The road they were traveling was among the barley fields now. Drifting over the stiff breeze from the hills were the songs of the men tending to the fields, naked in their work. The city was still looming behind them, the steep incline of its geography making it appear larger than it was. The details of it were fading with each step. At the top, near the crest of the hill it was built on, Delyssa thought she could see the towers and minarets of the Street of Souls. She was unused to this angle, and could not be sure, but she thought she saw the four corner towers of the Temple of Shevlana.

"You'll be back in no time at all," said Brynwa. "For now, think about how you're gonna pay me back for that favor I just did you."

"Mm," said Delyssa. "Such a mercenary. Have you no charity in your heart?"

Brynwa pinched Delyssa's other nipple, causing her to squirm. "I'm an adventurer. There's always a reward."

They both grinned. So far, Delyssa's first hour of being a campaigner was better than she would have ever dared hope.

#

Brother Kruit had not intended to fall asleep, so it was with a little -- not much -- surprise when he awoke naked in a bed, the afternoon sun shining bright upon him through a narrow window. He groaned and turned.

"How long was I asleep, Saliss?"

Mother Corporeal did not look up from her parchments on her desk. They were in her private rooms, not the official office of the temple's minaret. She was wrapped in the bedsheets.

"Long enough for me to get bored," she said.

"That tells me nothing. I've seen you open up a scroll to read with me still inside you."

"Well, you finished and rolled over and fell asleep. If I told you it was midday tomorrow would you believe me?"

Kruit scratched his beard and thought for a moment. "No?" he ventured. "That strikes me as being unlikely."

"Well, it seems you still have some sense." They both took a moment just to smile at each other.

"I still find myself worrying about her," he said.

"Delyssa, you mean? You don't believe she's ready?"

"I barely know her, Saliss. Though she seems like she can manage. Campaigning is something you grow into more often than not. Why her? Was it really a question of complacency? I can think of a half-dozen higher-circle disciples who could be sent out on campaign. Ones who have had experience."

"Sometimes inexperience is the point, Kruit."

"I don't follow."

Saliss looked thoughtful and absently tapped her finger on the scroll before her. "I want you to take a look at this, Kruit. You still remember how to read some elder script, yes?"

Kruit grumbled as he heaved himself out of the bed. "I'm getting old," he groaned as he felt his knees pop.

"You got old. Come over here and practice your new eyes, old man."

Kruit made his way to stand behind Mother Corporeal, leaning over her to study the unfurled scrolls. They were yellowed with age, carefully weighed down with small stones. The script was barely legible, in an archaic language. Saliss was watching his lips move as he read with the studious care of the deeply affectionate. She reached her hand behind her until she cupped his balls, not playing with them, just enjoying as one would a familiar ornament.

"Where did you find this? Not the library." He said.

"No. The old archives, down in the vault. From the stacks."

"The stacks?" Kruit reached the end of the page, his brow furrowing and knitting together. "What is this mess? A prophecy? Goddess above, Saliss, are you trying this again? A new prophecy, a new acolyte? I thought I convinced you."

"There's no such thing as a new prophecy, Kruit. You know that. Simply new... interpretations."

"Well, if your 'interpretation' is mistaken, you might get a girl hurt or worse. Don't plan like all of this was planned."

"Of course not. I pulled this scroll out from the vault last night. Every justification I gave to her was true. She is a promising student, a gifted initiate, and was completely at ease with sitting in her cubicle and fucking all day and night."

"Sounds like somebody I remember," Kruit muttered.

"And then I grew up and realized that pleasure and joy is not the same as irresponsibility. She was headed in that direction. I could see it. I almost went there, and I could tell that it would happen to her. There are some people who just... become vessels. You can pour pleasure in and pour pleasure out, but unless you fill some of that space with something else, the vessel will be essentially empty."

"You're sermonizing again. Do you want me to write this down? Ow."

Saliss released his testicles. "You know that I'm right. At least about her."

"I can see how that could be true," he admitted.

"Then what is the harm in exploring some old prophecies? Trying to see if any of them fit? You cannot ignore the miracle that happened last night. How you received your pretty new eyes."

"Believe me, I'm not ignoring it," Kruit said. "But you are trying to put a great purpose on a girl who will -- let's be honest, because everyone who's been on quest knows it -- spend much of the duration of her adventure fucking her companions and any interesting individual she meets on the road. Let's not pretend that adventurers need our teachings to be open with one another. Isn't that enough to shake her awake? A taste of responsibility with some familiar pleasures, maybe a scrap or two to shock her awake, and when she gets back she can move on to being a disciple. Does it need to be anything more complicated than that? Does her future have to have grand prophesies, miracles? That leads to sainthoods and gods. It might be more than she can handle."

"Perhaps," Saliss said. "It could well be that. A young woman goes off, meets all sorts of fanciful people, fucks the lot of them, and comes back a little different. One among thousands. Wouldn't it be better if she was capable of something grander?"

"Well. It's not up to you. No matter what you read in these scrolls. No matter what you scribble in your marginalia, you can't decide Delyssa's fate. I'm worried about her breaking a limb on the road or getting eaten by some monster. You can worry about whatever grand journey that may or may not happen. Leave me out of it. That kind of tale is never free."

Saliss rolled her eyes. "You've never been a romantic. I believe that Goddess has great things planned."

"Of course she does. Now come back over to the bed. Now that I can see again I want to memorize every inch of you."

Mother Corporeal stood and let the sheet fall to the ground. Elsewhere in the temple, Jahroud was welcoming a young supplicant to manhood with strong thrusts. Priestesses busied themselves in the temple sanctuary, the day's services uninterrupted by the absence of a single acolyte.

The prophecy left open on Saliss' desk was one of many stored within the temple. Obtuse, vague, and irritatingly lyrical, most sages ascribe little worth to such oracles and even less meaning. If you squinted your eyes and tilted your head, they could mean one thing. Tilt your head the other way and they could mean the exact opposite. That was the thing with prophecies. If they were certain to happen there would be no need to write them down at all.

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