Acolyte of the Pleasure Goddess Ch. 04

Delyssa gasped as she stepped into the cold waters of the river and watched as the dust that caked her legs fell off her in a murky cloud and was swept away. The party had been on the road for twelve days, and she was feeling a new, unfamiliar kind of exhaustion. She was used to sore muscles and the sweat of exertion, but the kind of activity that took place within the humid, fire-lit temple and its perfume air was entirely unlike the march beneath the sun that Delyssa found herself in.

The road to the village of Ankreot took them away from the main highway that cut across the plains north of Gra'tan and into rocky hills. The last day had been spent leading the horses by the reins in single file through craggy, broken trails. Even before then, Delyssa learned that riding a horse was its own special type of fatigue. Her legs burned from sitting in the saddle all day.

However, as she acclimated to the cold river and felt the aches begin to soothe, she admitted to herself that the simple pleasure of reprieve was almost worth the pain of the journey.

There was a splash from up-river, and Delyssa saw the small form of Cenhera bob up from the small wake of her entry into the water, her mess of hair spreading out in a flat circle around her head. While the river was only up to Delyssa's waist at the deepest, the tunling was able to fully swim about, diving and paddling up and down the current. Delyssa stifled a giggle at the sight of her companion diving beneath the surface. Cenhera's pale skin gleamed as she breached the water, reminding Delyssa of a white river-dolphin, the kind that sometimes swam up the inlets from the Riversea into Gra'tan.

She still did not know Cenhera very well. There was little time to talk on the road, and the small campaigner was not included to strike up conversation. What little dialogue they had took place over the campsite at mealtimes, but even then, it was sparse. Cenhera seemed to be harboring some minor grudge against the acolyte. Probably due to Delyssa's inadvertent replacement of the party's previous cleric. Brynwa said that Cenhera had been smitten with him, but Cenhera herself never mentioned him.

Brynwa was by far the companion that Delyssa knew best, due to her sharing the warrior's saddle. Beyond that first intimacy on the road, however, they had not initiated anything further. It was not for a lack of interest, Delyssa guessed, since the fighter kept squeezing her thigh when they were on horseback and throwing her sultry and obviously flirtatious looks over the campfires. But there had been no invocation of the reciprocity that Delyssa had promised herself to.

It was hard to get used to the social structure of the party. Back in the Temple of Shevlana, things were expectedly looser. People made their desires plain, and if accepted acted upon them. Friendships, partnerships, even the infrequent but inevitable bout of heartbreak all occurred within the temple wall, rising and falling like verses of a song, each one unique but played along a familiar tune.

Here, Delyssa was quickly getting the sense that relationships functioned very differently along the campaigner's path. The bonds between her three companions were close. How could they not be, she realized, after traveling together for hundreds of leagues, back-to-back both when huddled under shared blankets during cold desert nights and when fighting off packs of monsters -- not that Delyssa had witnessed this last deed yet. So far, the roads they followed were devoid of other travelers of any kind.

But what she realized largely informed the commoner's perception of adventurers was that you only ever met the survivors. The campaigner's one might meet in the tavern or the brothel -- or healing ward of the Temple of Shevlana -- were united by a single quality: their ability to live through perilous quests. Their methods might differ, but generally campaigners were either so singularly focused on their tasks that all else fell to the wayside, or those who were cutthroat and roguish enough to scrape by. Neither type was especially prone to exploring their feelings with novice adventurers like Delyssa.

Her own companions were difficult to place along this spectrum. Much of what she surmised about the lives of campaigners was informed by stories the others -- mainly Brynwa -- told her over rests, about friends and rivals and other groups legendary for either their valor or, more commonly, their incompetence. Vael had more stories of the former, while Brynwa and Cenhera had more of the latter. She guessed that the current mood of the party (friendly enough, open to reminiscing and gossip) was due to the fact that no member was a replacement for a fallen companion, which she was beginning to learn was a rare quality. None of the previous healers had perished, and the three current adventurers came together from parties that dissolved not due to death, but more typical disagreements.

She was learning a lot already about these people, even if only in general terms. None of her companions yet offered to elaborate on their backstories to her, and curiosity festered within her. She wished that Kruit had packed her a diary she could journal in, something in which she could scrawl her thoughts, observations, and suppositions. It had not even occurred to her as something to ask about in the Temple, where all the days blurred together and there was little to distinguish one from another.

On the road, she was happy to pass the time and distract herself from the aches of travel by enjoying the landscape around her, a sublime phenomenon that she now found herself dependent on. This was the longest she had gone without coupling with another person in all her adult life, and while seeing the hilltop vistas and towering mountains were an altogether different form of pleasure, there was such beauty in them that Delyssa frequently found her breath taken away by the sights. With Gra'tan far over the horizon behind them, Delyssa had been astounded to see mountains looming ahead that dwarfed her home's meager, rocky swells. These were still purple in the distance, far to the north, well beyond the range of their adventure, or so Vael assured her. Their snow-capped peaks were mythic to Delyssa's desert-acclimated eyes. She may as well have been seeing dragons.

Still, she knew that the nature around her could not distract forever from the fact that, with each passing day, her sexual frustration grew. The shock of finding herself suddenly out of doors and out of Gra'tan, among strangers, had been enough to shift her attention, but the more she became used to travel the more her usual habits reared themselves. Normally, in the temple, she had sex multiple times a day, with many different partners with many different kinds of bodies. And despite what she promised Jahroud, the image of him pleasuring himself was not enough to break her newly found shyness in the company of her companions. The farther they got from Gra'tan, the less playful Brynwa seemed to become, and Vael appeared to be as chaste as Delyssa was not, though she could not tell if that was due to some paladin oath or personal predilection.

When the party had stumbled across this crook of river nestled in a rocky plateau among the hills, Delyssa had bitten her lip and not wanted to suggest anything, worried about appearing to be the feeble city girl she felt like, but was inwardly overjoyed when both Brynwa and Cenhera suggested that they take a moment and refresh themselves within its waters. Even Vael looked relieved to peel the chainmail off his bronze skin before disappearing into the river reeds.

Delyssa watched Cenhera swim about for a moment longer before turning down-river and wading away from the tunling. She was getting used to the cold water. She trailed her hands in the water to either side, enjoying the feel of the current moving through them and between her legs, the muddy riverbed between her toes, and the cool air on her exposed breasts as she cut through the morning steam. She picked her way through the low scrub and high cattails of the brush, waving away dragonflies and skimming insects as she searched for somewhere to masturbate with discretion. Her sense of geographic navigation was still developing, and she was careful to keep in mind where they had left the horses and where she had left her clothes piled on the grass.

She followed some eddies through a thick tangle of reeds, quietly parting the plants and wading into a semi-stagnant pool that drifted around a tall boulder, secluded from the main river by a thicket of cattails. Already quivering from anticipation, Delyssa rounded the rock and stopped.

Vael stood a few paces away, turned away from her. Likewise naked, the water came up to his upper thighs. She took in his body: hard muscles as if carved from stone. A long burn scar ran diagonally across his back, but otherwise his skin was clear of wounds. Delyssa couldn't tell if the scar was from a fight or some kind of ritual. Her gaze dropped lower, and she bit her lip as she admired his buttocks, tight and round. He was in the process of bathing, bent over as he squeezed water out of his hair.

She stepped backwards, halfway back around the rock. The guilt of voyeurism was a new sensation to her. Some sound she made, the splashing of water around her legs or the rustle of reeds must have alerted the paladin, because he paused and turned. He saw her and started, quickly turning again his back to her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was looking for somewhere... private."

Vael shrugged, the muscles shifting hypnotically around his shoulders. "You found such a place."

"I'll go look elsewhere. I didn't mean to intrude."

He glanced back at her, met her eyes. "You are not intruding. If this is where you wish to bathe, I shall not forbid you."

Delyssa cautiously moved back around the boulder, in full view of the paladin.

"Back at the Temple," she said, stepping towards him. "The baths were a common meeting place. Everyone bathed together. I suppose I'm used to such things. It feels a little strange to bathe alone, to tell you the truth."

Vael splashed water over his face, running his fingers through his beard. "When I was a boy, my grandmother would take me to the public baths, great fountains where much of the city would meet every morning. What you describe reminds me of those."

"Where were you born?" said Delyssa, squatting in the water and rinsing herself, going through the motions of washing so that Vael did not think she was simply watching him. Meanwhile, the attention demanded from between her legs was only growing.

"I was born in a city named Ondolond, far from here. Though my memories from those days are few. I was raised in Dolonese Legions, where I spent my youth."

"When did you become a paladin of Saint Barassa?"

Another tilt of the head, a partial look back at her. "Too late," he said.

Delyssa wasn't sure how to respond, and the length of silence between them deepened. "If you wish for solitude, I truly don't mind finding elsewhere..."

"You must think me overly modest," said Vael. He shifted towards her, and from her crouched position she found herself level with his penis, flaccid and wet, darker than the rest of his skin. He seated himself across from her, knees sticking up out of the water. The image of his sex swelled in her mind, and she forced herself to respond.

"I think of it as a matter of education," she said. "We are taught from a young age that bodies, no matter their form, are not something to be ashamed of. But we would never tell people what they need to be comfortable with."

"Those are fair words, though given what I know of your practices I do not think that someone like me would ever be at ease there."

"Because of your oaths?"

"I have sworn no such oaths." He leaned back and let his head float in the water, hair spread out around him.

Delyssa waited for him to elaborate, but no such explanations were forthcoming. Disregarding the context, this conversation was frustratingly similar to the few others she had with the paladin over the past days. Though she did learn a few details of his life, these were overshadowed by cryptic allusions to his order and past. She tried to think like a warrior, and after a moment decided on a more direct approach.

"Do you dislike me, Paladin Vael?" she said. "Or my religion, perhaps? I admit that I am struggling to make sense of you."

He sat up and stared at her. "I do not dislike you. Nor your religion. In fact, I find myself to be curious about both. But you do intimidate me."

"I intimidate you? I've never intimidated anyone in my life!" Delyssa could not help her shock.

"Please understand. Your religion -- and I hope that this does not offend -- teaches shamelessness, revelry, and passion. You have the body of a lover," he said, and for the first time allowed his gaze to drop from her face and plainly look over the rest of her.

"It is, perhaps, opposite in alignment from my own. The Order of Saint Barassa teaches shame. Shame and penance. Ours is a warrior-cult in the truest sense, but we do not exalt in fighting. Rather, my knighthood is composed of those who cannot forgive themselves for the skill they possess.

"I am not shamed by nakedness, Delyssa. When a warrior has blood on his hands -- when he is a killer -- no armor can clothe him. Skin, cloth, or steel, it makes no difference."

Delyssa opened her mouth to speak -- unsure of what to say -- but before she could do so, the reeds parted once more and Brynwa splashed through. She still had the leather jerkin wrapped about her chest (Delyssa had never seen the fighter without it) but was otherwise naked. Her hair, normally tied up around her head while traveling, was wet and loose about her shoulders. The patch of hair between her legs was growing unkempt, losing the grooming that Delyssa realized was more of an urban affectation.

"Right," the warrior barked. "That's enough of this grim talk."

"How long have you been lurking about?" said Delyssa, amazed at the huge warrior's apparent stealth.

"Long enough to get the sense that nothing else was going to happen." Brynwa said. "Nothing interesting at least." She held out a hand to Delyssa, who grasped it and was lifted up to her feet.

"Now, we still have a lot of miles left to make today, and we'll have to get back on the road shortly. I know that. I also know that if I don't take this chance to get to know our cleric a little better, I'll regret it for the rest of the quest." Brynwa leaned over Delyssa. She could feel the heat radiating off the warrior, a heat matched only by the one rising within her.

"Delyssa, do I have your permission to pick you up and make off with you?" The fighter was stern but smiling. Delyssa glanced at Vael. The paladin was staring at the water. She looked up into Brynwa's wide face and nodded. Immediately, two powerful hands grabbed her by her bottom and lifted her up, slinging her across Brynwa's shoulder. Suddenly staring down her back, acutely aware of how she was now intimately exposed to both the morning air and Vael's eyes.

"Vael," she heard Brynwa say. "I will welcome you to join us. I am sure that Delyssa can teach both of us a thing or two." One of the warrior's hands grabbed one of Delyssa's cheeks and squeezed it, causing her to gasp. "See? She looks so ready."

"Don't tease," Delyssa called back over her shoulder. Despite her sympathy for whatever discomfort Vael must have been feeling, Delyssa could not help feeling thrilled. There were few people in the Temple of Shevlana who could carry her about with such ease, but between Brynwa and the priestesses parading her through the temple, she was learning to love the sensation.

Vael quietly stood, and Delyssa caught a glimpse of him retreating towards the wall of reeds. "I will begin to break camp," he said, before disappearing into the brush.

"That was mean, Brynwa," she said. "I've known Vael for only a short time, and it's plain to me that teasing him like that just makes him uncomfortable. He's clearly not interested in my body."

"His loss," said Brynwa as she waded up the riverbank.

"He's a complicated man, I think."

"Who isn't? Right now, I'd rather explore your hidden depths than his." The warrior laid Delyssa down onto a smooth, flat stretch of stone warmed by the sun. "I'll be back with something special," the half-nude fighter said.

"Can you bring me my pack as well?" Delyssa said. Brynwa shrugged an affirmative and walked away from the cleric. Delyssa watched the fighter leave, enjoying the sight of the stiff sway of Brynwa's hips until the warrior was out of view.

Left alone for a moment, Delyssa stretched and spread her legs across the stone. She ran her hands over her thighs, still dripping from the river-water and now from her own anticipation. The day was now mid-morning and growing hotter, but the breeze was still cool enough to harden her dark nipples in the open air. She sighed and clasped her hands between her legs, just enjoying the warmth of her ready sex.

Her pack thumped down beside the rock, and suddenly Brynwa was towering over her, holding a bundle of cloth and a mess of leather strips in her hand.

"I see you decided to start on your own," the fighter said with a smirk. Brynwa sat cross-legged next to Delyssa's head and began to untangle the belts. While the warrior worked, her attention was entirely fixed on Delyssa, her gaze moving slowly between her breasts and cunt.

"Can I ask you a question?" Delyssa said. Brynwa shrugged again.

"What's it like to be a warrior woman?" she said, trying to sound diplomatic.

"I don't think about that," Brynwa replied. "I'm just a fighter."

"Is that why you wear this?" Delyssa trailed one finger along the bottom edge of the leather binding that Brynwa wore wrapped about her chest.

"I wear it so that my tits don't flop about in a fight," Brynwa said, scowling.

"But we're not fighting now."

"You never know. Aha!" Brynwa finally disentangled the leather belts and placed them beside her. She opened the cloth bundle and pulled out a long, hefty phallus of smooth, lacquered wood, that curved upwards slightly. "I had this carved for me a while back," she said. "I've gotten a lot of use out of it." Brynwa began to attach the straps to its base, and then buckled the wooden cock around her waist. The fighter crawled down to between Delyssa's knees and gently pushed them aside. She shuffled forward and lifted up Delyssa's hips until the tip of the cock lay atop her labia.

Brynwa spat on her hands and rubbed them along the phallus' length. "This might be rougher than you're used to," she warned.

"Wait." Delyssa rolled over and fished through her pack until she found the flask of olive oil that Kruit had packed. She pulled the stopper and poured enough lubricant on the cock for it to have a golden sheen. With what remained on her fingers she applied to her already-moist cunt, easily sliding her fingers knuckle-deep within herself.

Brynwa stared down at her with a hungry look. "You've come prepared," she said. The fighter grasped the gleaming phallus and angled it towards Delyssa's waiting and open sex. With a long, steady thrust it entered her. The cock was larger than any other Delyssa had ever taken, both in terms of length and girth, and she gave a blithesome groan as it filled her. It was cool within her, surprising in both its temperature and the pleasure that came from it.

The warrior was leaning over her, hands flat against the stone on either side of Delyssa's head as if she was about to start doing push-ups. Brynwa's hips were thrusting in a practiced rhythm -- she was far more competent at this form of penetration than she was with her fingers on that first day of journey. Brynwa's cock filled her to her depths, stopping just short of a painful collision with her back-most walls.