Acolyte of the Pleasure Goddess Ch. 05-06

"I think I've proved that it's definitely there," she said, still working him. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Keep going," Bryn and Cenhera said together, their voices an ecstatic harmony. Bryn's hand reach up towards his cock, then faltered, falling back towards to the ground to clutch at the stone with writhing fingers. Delyssa smiled. This was her territory. Leave the fighting to the other adventurers. Suddenly, she felt a pang of homesickness for the Temple of Shevlana. How many times had she helped a supplicant discover themselves within those walls? More than anything she could do on a campaign, more than any spell of healing, she still felt like those services she gave within her cella were her strength.

Bryn was squirming hard beneath her. She lay one hand on his belly to steady him, mindless of the warm fluids that now coated it. She felt the urge to bury her face onto his cock, to nestle herself on his balls and feel them roll across her tongue. She put those feelings aside; for all his attention paid to his new cock, Bryn seemed hesitant to grasp it himself, and she didn't want to steal that from him without his permission. Besides, knowing Bryn, there would be plenty of opportunities for that later. Instead, she just planted a kiss on the inside of his thigh, making him arch his back and groan.

It was only a few more rapid heartbeats of stroking until she felt him start to clench around her fingers as he came. His cock flexed and bucked upwards, and with each heavy throb a thick stream of cum erupted out. Six, seven, eight ropes of his seed covered him from the chin down. Cenhera gasped, working herself even faster, the patter of her fingers audible as they scrubbed her clitoris. The illusion was now just a faint haze around her, but she appeared unaware or unconcerned of her visual nudity. She was close enough to Delyssa such that the acolyte could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could easily hear the splatter of the great volume of fluid coming out of Cenhera and splashing against Bryn and the stone floor.

In truth, Delyssa was more than a little astonished by the tunling's enthusiasm. This was a side of her entirely unlike the focused, professional adventurer Delyssa had been on the road with for the last two weeks. As Cenhera gave soft, high cries of pleasure, seemingly angling for a second orgasm as she continued her pace unabated.

For his part, Bryn was just now coming down from his climax, chest heaving. He ran one hand over the cum on his chest, smearing it and looking at the strands caught between his fingers in amazement.

Delyssa pulled her fingers free and wiped them on the stone next to her. "Does that work as a confirmation for you?"

Bryn was still staring at the cum in his hands but nodded fervently towards the acolyte. Cenhera was tight-lipped in determination as she rubbed herself, her dextrous fingers a blur as she sped towards another climax, likewise staring at Bryn's seed spread over his chest. Delyssa chuckled and crawled away, returning to her pack to retrieve some cleaning rags for the group. She could feel herself still dripping, her own arousal nearly maddening as the ache intensified.

She reached the doorway and stood, leaning out and looking down into the rest of the chamber. There was no sign of Vael — as she expected. She sighed. The paladin was an honest man, and wore his feelings more nakedly than he realized, she knew. There was something beneath his discomfort, an unvoiced undercurrent of some kind of desire beneath his objections that Delyssa struggled to name. He did not want to join them in their physical intimacies, she could tell that easily enough. But there was a kind of longing in his hesitation. She found it difficult to untangle the conflict inside the paladin. In the Temple, desires were straightforward and easily fulfilled. And the supplicants and worshipers who came for their rituals made their wants plain enough.

She shrugged, accidentally mimicking the signature gesture of the paladin. There would be time to unravel the other campaigner later. She turned back to the group. Cenhera was orgasming again, her legs quivering as she squatted, two of Bryn's cum-covered fingers in her mouth, which she sucked on eagerly. Bryn continued to look stunned, his cock beginning to rise and harden once more. The huge fighter and the small tunling made for a delightful pairing, she thought, looking at the two entangle themselves on the stone floor.

Then Delyssa noticed the dark rectangle of the open doorway that yawned on the other side of the chamber; she did not know when it had appeared, but it stood unseen by Bryn or Cenhera, each too preoccupied with the other, the fighter now sucking gently at one of Cenhera's breasts while she crouched by his side, running her fingers through his hair and whispering to him. The doorway called to Delyssa. Some presence, felt deep in a pit of her soul, the same place where magic flowed through her, yearned to enter. She said nothing to the two other adventurers as she stepped over them in crossing the room, could scarcely feel the wet puddle of Cenhera's fluids between her toes as she passed by, could barely hear their exclamations as they turned and saw the new doorway.

She stepped through the doorway and into an inky void, the torchlight from the secret chamber behind her vanished. She could feel firm ground beneath her feet but could see nothing. Nothing, that is, beyond the stone sarcophagus that stood about thirty paces away, exactly as she saw in her earlier vision. She trembled as she approached it. What would she find inside? She couldn't help but wonder. Ashes? The bones of some ancient, forgotten saint? She reached out an unsteady hand, shaking as she neared. At the slightest brush of her fingertips, the sarcophagus began to shake, and a great rumbling sound filled the air. The stone grew white-hot, almost blinding to look at, before it suddenly dissolved into ash. A wind appeared from an unknown source, scattering the ashes into oblivion before Delyssa had a chance to think.

Saint Mesembre now stood before her. The same as she first looked in Delyssa's first vision: a tall woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties, wavy dark hair that fell far past her bronze shoulders, now familiar from the various carvings and reliefs of her throughout the dungeon. She looked at Delyssa with a beatific smile. She was almost naked as Delyssa was, save for the two golden pieces that cupped — but did not hide — her breasts, her wide nipples filling the open space between the metal.

Before she could speak, Mesembre stepped forward and pulled Delyssa into a kiss, one hand around her waist, the other around the back of her neck. Her lips tasted sweet, and the tongue that met and intertwined with hers was warm, wet, and welcoming. Delyssa gasped as Mesembre released her, a thin trail of saliva connecting the two as the saint pulled away. Mesembre wiped it away with a thumb, lingering on the corner of Delyssa's lips.

"Thank you," Mesembre said, her voice dark and low, and Delyssa could feel herself flex and drip at the sound. She almost doubled over from the ache of her yearning sex. "It has been so long," the saint continued. "I find that my wants have grown in the interim between my death and now."

Delyssa finally found her own voice. "Are you... is we... is this another dream?"

Mesembre laughed, and the sound filled the acolyte like a banquet. She could live on that sound, she knew. "Yes. And no. It is real, but real beyond the way that you know. What happens here takes place between us."

Delyssa swallowed. "And what is to happen here?"

Mesembre laughed again. "Ah, a true servant of Shevlana. Our goddess chooses well, always. No, I read too much into your words," she added, seeing Delyssa's eyes widen. "As much as the hunger within me has grown over the ages, I would like to talk for a time. Though I would be grateful to taste life once more."

Delyssa's breath was racing, her breasts rising and falling with each inhale. "I would try to satisfy anything my lady desires."

Mesembre raised an eyebrow. "Only rarely did anyone ever confuse a woman like me for a lady, Delyssa. The grace of our cult is in service, not nobility. Oh, don't feel foolish. Nobody ever knows how to address a saint. We're all dead, after all. Just my name will do. And I appreciate the sentiment."

Still, the acolyte could feel a blush creep into her skin. She wasn't sure what to say, how to even begin with such a conversation. Mesembre just gazed patiently into her eyes, a perfect oval face smiling warmly at her. "Were you expecting me?" she managed, trying for anything.

"Yes," Mesembre said easily. "But perhaps not in the way that you might imagine."

"Was I chosen to meet you? Why? I was a middling acolyte at the Temple, and this was not meant to be an important quest."

"You disparage yourself," Mesembre said, picking up Delyssa's hands and holding them in her own. "But to answer your first question, no. I did not choose you. I only became more aware of your arrival as you neared my sacred tomb. As for why, I suppose the Goddess Shevlana saw your potential."

"I wasn't even sure that I wanted to leave the Temple," said Delyssa. "At first I didn't want to go, I was crying." It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"I'm sure," Mesembre smiled. "I was younger than you are when I left my brothers and sisters to see the world, and now I think I could not have been more foolish. It's a difficult thing to leave comfort, whether or not you are afraid. How do you feel now?" She asked suddenly.

"Now?" Delyssa thought for a moment. "Now I feel unworthy. I feel like I've stumbled into something far greater than I am. When I entered this tomb, I did not know it was yours. I didn't know you except from that vision. I didn't even know your name."

Mesembre nodded. "That does not surprise me. It has been quite the age since my death."

"But how could we have forgotten you? An entire saint of Shevlana, lost to time?"

"It is no great mystery, Delyssa. It was not an accident, but a choice."

"A choice?" She said, then shook her head. "You weren't forgotten. You were hidden."

"Yes." The smile did not leave Mesembre's face, though a hint of sadness softened her expression.

"But why? Why would we have done that? You seemed to have been a great priestess. You led an army!"

"That is why I was made into a secret," she said. "Because, Delyssa, my story is one of failure. And failures are dangerous things to repeat."

"Failure? Did you lose your war?"

"Yes. And much more. What does it mean to fight beneath the banner of the Goddess of Love? Of passion, of lust? What happens when you assemble an army, a legion of men made of flesh and blood and steel, and fight for the goddess of fertility and beauty? Then what happens when you lose?"

"What happened?"

Mesembre lowered herself to the ground and pressed her cheek against Delyssa's thigh, her face turned in towards the acolyte's vulva. "I have the answer to that question, and my heart breaks but to say it, though I shall not. I shall leave it to you to find your answer. It is still too fresh a wound for me. I hope that you will find that time has ordered the chaos of the past into something more meaningful."

"I'm sorry," said Delyssa. "I didn't mean to renew that hurt for you."

"You didn't," Mesembre said, "It's never dulled." Then she pressed up and in, pushing her mouth into Delyssa's open vagina, her tongue probing around her inner folds, her upper lip firm against her hardening clitoris. It was a sudden burst of pleasure that quaked down her legs, and she involuntarily reached forward and wrapped her hands around the back of the saint's head, burying her fingers into Mesembre's hair. Mesembre stayed there, her tongue working in and around Delyssa, pausing only to kiss and suck at her clit. All the while, Mesembre was looking up at Delyssa, her gaze intense and focused, the whites of her eyes vibrant against her bronze skin and the black of the void that surrounded them.

After a few minutes, as Delyssa neared the edge, Mesembre broke off and slowly moved upwards, kissing and licking Delyssa's skin: her thighs, the sides of her hips, up to her navel, along one rib line and then the other, the bottoms of her breasts. She lingered at each nipple, kissing around the areolas and nibbling lightly at each hard bud. She continued up with a long lick of her tongue, following the line of Delyssa's right breast on the side of her chest. More kisses, under her arm, on her shoulder, along her clavicle, to the base of her neck.

Delyssa felt frozen, the pleasure was so intense. She was so aware of her own skin, each point of contact between Mesembre and herself a jolt that pushed her impossibly close to the edge, each kiss threatening her to come, each sweep of the saint's electrifying tongue made her gasp and straighten.

She could not yet come; her open and aching sex needed to be parted, her clit needed something — anything — to rub against, any contact at all, a brush of any skin. Mesembre knew this, she must have, as the saint continued her attentions on the acolyte. She kissed her neck, a long lick across her lower lip, kissed her nose, each of her eyelids, her forehead.

Tears of pleasure were forming at the corners of Delyssa's eyes. She was panting, so close to coming that it was hard to breathe, her legs shaking as she stood. Mesembre stepped around her and began to move back down, tenderly moving Delyssa's hair to hang down in front of her, the tickle of it across her nipples another rake of sensation.

Mesembre kissed each of her shoulder blades and gave a long lick downwards following the trail of her spine. She gave an attentive, gentle kiss on each of the dimples over Delyssa's ass, then one at the cleft of her cheeks. With surprisingly firm hands, she spread Delyssa's ass and kissed between her legs, tonguing her from behind. Delyssa arched her back and moaned as Mesembre lapped at her. She bent forwards and arched her back as she stepped a little wider. Mesembre pushed deeper into her, one hand wrapping upwards between Delyssa's legs, fingers splayed into her bush, the heel of her palm pressed against her clitoris.

The friction was too much, and she began to come, her orgasm sending shakes down each of her limbs. Mesembre steadied her, unrelenting as she continued to tongue her wet, quivering sex and sensitive rear. She cried out, her voice high and trembling, before she relaxed into breathless panting. When she stilled, Mesembre slowed commensurately, until she finally pulled away and kissed the back of Delyssa's knee.

The acolyte sank down to the ground, and Mesembre immediately pulled her into her lap and hugged her.

"You're a sweet girl," she said. "In temperament and in taste."

"Thank you," Delyssa said, her voice soft and tender. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Mesembre smiled and returned her thanks. "Now, I must ask, Delyssa: what is it that you want?"

"What is it I want?" Delyssa had to repeat the question out loud. She was still gathering herself after her orgasm, shaking the delirium from her brain. She was hugging Mesembre's chest, face pressed against the saint's breasts.

"You've now had a small taste of the world. Of adventure. Of life beyond the Temple. You stand at the gates now, child. Surely none could blame you for returning to the Temple and continuing your life of service there. It is a rare, beautiful place of peace in this world."

"Another choice?" Delyssa said. She thought of her conversation with Mother Corporeal back at the Temple. It seemed strange to her now that she had been so afraid of leaving. There was an empty space lingering at the end of the saint's words, a cavity where the unsaid waited to be uttered. Mesembre needed her for something but needed her to want it first.

She turned and straddled Mesembre, close enough so that their bodies pressed together. "I don't need to be gently given any more choices. I'm an adventurer now, more or less. I'll finish your quest for you, whatever it is."

Mesembre kissed her, and this time Delyssa could taste her own juices on the lips that parted hers.

"You honor me, truly," Mesembre said after they decoupled. "And I accept your offer, even though you don't yet know of what you promise. Those answers shall come to you, and soon. But I do warn you that this path, sublime though it will be, is fraught."

Delyssa suddenly thought of the carvings that filled the rest of the tomb. "I do not think it would be disparaging myself to say that I could not lead an army as you did."

Mesembre laughed. "You should not need to. But even so, I did not think I could either until it happened."

She stood, bringing Delyssa to her feet. "Our time together is nearing its end, unfortunately."

"Already?" Delyssa felt as if she could spend another lifetime in this void, alone with the saint.

"Don't be sorry," said Mesembre. "I return now to the Goddess' embrace. Shevlana beckons me back to her, and I cannot refuse for much longer. It is through her patience that I linger here."

"Then," she said, "if the goddess awaits you then I must not keep you any longer."

"We have some time yet, still. Maybe I give you a boon and a blessing, before we part?"

Delyssa shifted. "You may, but I believe that my companions are helping themselves to your more material gifts at the moment. We already have taken much from you."

Mesembre waved her hand dismissively. "Treasure is trifles, and the dead have no use for such things. Take what you like. I could sense the joy of your friend, and such pleasure is well worth the exchange. Shevlana is a giving goddess: my dusty treasure for his ecstasy, a glorious bargain."

"How much do you know of my companions?" she asked.

"Only what they have opened of their hearts near my tomb, which is much."

"It wasn't luck that Bryn found that belt, was it?"

"No. I could sense the torment inside of him and felt compelled to ask Shevlana for a miracle."

"You can do that?" Delyssa asked, amazed.

"Even forgotten, I am still a saint," Mesembre replied.

"And what about the paladin, Vael? I wonder if his heart is closed to you."

"You are wise to think so, but you are still young," the saint said. "No, Vael is open like the sky, like the sea. He does not lust for you, but he loves you. He fears you because he fears himself. He sees himself as a vessel for violence the same as how you are a vessel for love, and so keeps from you for fear that he would taint you."

Delyssa was quiet for a moment. "How can I heal him of that?"

"You cannot."

She shook her head, her eyes swimming. "I'll still try."

Mesembre smiled. "Of course you will. I knew someone much like him, long ago. Now turn around, I wish to bestow a gift upon you."

Delyssa turned, not quite sure what to expect, and was startled when she felt the shock of metal upon her skin. Mesembre was hooking the two golden pieces she wore around Delyssa. They were swooping curves, each one independent in almost an S shape. They looped around each breast, perfectly fitting the curve of her flesh. They bent over her shoulders and arced down behind each shoulder-blade, close to her spine. They moved with her as if pliant and soft, but they felt hard against her skin. The contact made her nipples harden, and the ornamentation only left her feeling all the more naked. She squirmed, relishing the sensation.

"These, of course, are enchanted," Mesembre said. "They are the Wings of Amity, the last pieces of the Raiment that were left in my possession. They can only be removed when you will it, and they carry with them certain... investitures. You will tire less easily, and rest will recover you faster. The rest I will leave for you to discover," she said with a smile.