Beloved of Ashura: Learning to Fly

It was easy to get lost in the thought; only when she felt Rayven's eyes on her did she realize how long she stared at them. The blush on her face matched the slowly fading red spot on her cheek. When she looked at Rayven, she had an amused expression, which only made her embarrassment worse. At the same time, Isana felt a pulse between her legs. Being caught in her momentary lust made her all the more excited. It was a cycle that reinforced itself. "Oh Goddess, I have to get back control. I almost feel as if I could...," she thought, unwilling to admit how close she was to giving into the rocking motion of the horse underneath her. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a wineskin with water in it and drank long gulps from it. It helped her to regain control and bring her back from the precipice.

When she finally built up enough nerve to look at Rayven again, the amused look was gone. Instead, she looked sympathetic, with an expression almost of understanding. When she spoke, however, it was about their situation. Isana was thankful of that. She wasn't ready to talk about her feelings.

"That ranger worries me some," Rayven said. "His eyes missed nothing. We were just fortunate that news of your escape hasn't reached there as yet." She looked over her shoulder. Despite already knowing it, she felt compelled to look and just confirm no one was behind them. "I think, if a search party meets him, he will know that it was us. I don't know if he is with the Duke or not, but the reward will be enough for him."

"I'm sorry I drew attention to us, Mistress," Isana said softly.

"Don't be. I think that was fortuitous. I am guessing that he may have seen you once, and thought you looked familiar. He was trying to figure it out, but when I slapped you across the face, he dismissed his suspicions. He couldn't imagine someone slapping the face of a noblewoman, or her taking it as calmly as you did." She frowned. "As if you were a slave quite used to being slapped by me." She inched her horse slightly closer to Isana and reached out to run her hand down her back. "You did very well, my little Dove," she told the younger woman.

A spike of pleasure ran through Isana. Part of it was the touch down her back, but much more than that was the praise. She made Rayven proud of her, and that felt so very good. Even when her hand left Isana's body, the pleasure at having made her proud continued to course through her. She hoped that this would be just one of many times she might receive Rayven's approval. Isana tried to focus on what she was saying.

"He was quite observant. Something wasn't quite in place," Rayven was saying. "It was your behavior that allayed his suspicions, but what prompted it in the first place?"

Thinking hard, Isana tried to recall their interaction. He stayed to himself, playing no part in the jeering or the near fight. Remembering his words, she started slightly. "I wonder, Mistress. You remember he asked about my not having a brand? Perhaps that is it," she said.

For a few minutes, Rayven continue to ride in silence as she thought. Finally, she spoke. "You may be right, Dove. Anyone trying to pretend to be a slave can wear a collar. Few would actually brand themselves." She looked over at the unblemished spot on Isana's arm where a brand should be, "I knew that was a risk," she said.

"Why didn't you mention that?" Isana asked. Her tone wasn't reproachful, but it held a hint of something else. Rayven wasn't quite sure what.

"It wouldn't have helped," she said. "You would have been self-conscious about it, drawing more attention to it than being in the dark."

"I don't think I would, Mistress," Isana replied.

This time it was easier to Rayven to guess her underlying tone. Giving her a smile, she looked at the younger woman. "She's quite brave," she thought. "She wants to make sure I trust her." She felt a pulse run through body. "And that I see her as worthy," she added.

"My little Dove, I have no doubt of your ability to keep to your disguise. There are little signs, however, that can unconsciously betray us. Perhaps you make a slight effort to keep that arm hidden from others," she said. The corner of her lip twitched upwards as she saw Isana flush slightly. "She was thinking of that," she thought in amusement. "See, my little Dove. A trained person would likely notice it."

Unwillingly, Isana nodded. "But what will we do, Mistress? I still am unbranded, and now I know it too!" She thought and her pretty face suddenly took on a fierce cast. "You should brand me, Mistress. Then I'll look the part," she said.

Rayven looked at her in surprise. This was certainly not the pampered princess of several days ago. Running for her life, seeing men die before her, and bluffing her way through the tavern changed her. "She doesn't just have her mother in her," she thought. "She is truly the child of that warrior king from back in the day." Once again, she inched her horse closer and reached out to rest her hand on Isana's thigh. "Bravely said Dove," she told her and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. "But it wouldn't help. Have you ever seen someone just branded?"

"In truth, Mistress, I have not. I know that Father occasionally passed judgment that involved branding, but I was sent away. They weren't the kind of men I'd see around the palace either," she said.

"A brand is a burn, little Dove. It is ugly and painful. It takes some time to heal. It would be a worse give away than no brand," Rayven told her. "Besides, I would not brand you, little Dove. That goes too far," she added. Her mind drifted to memories from long ago, the smell of burnt flesh coming back to her. She tried to ignore the feeling inside her those thoughts evoked.

Isana was thoughtful as they continued to ride. She glanced over at Rayven who was lost in those memories. Once or twice, her eyes turned to Isana before returning to the path. "Mistress? Could we fake it? Draw it on?" she asked. Although there were slaves in the palace, they were not many. Her father preferred to pay freedmen to serve him, rather than to hold men and women in bondage. It wasn't just that he was humane; a slave might feel he has little to lose. It meant she saw relatively few slave brands and she never saw a reason to examine them.

"No little Dove. Makeup will not help us," Rayven said with a sigh.

"Mistress? What is it?" Isana said. "There is something you aren't saying."

"Yes. There is a magic I could do, like the tattoo," she replied, as she turned to look at the younger woman.

"There is? Why didn't we do it before, when we did the tattoo?" Isana asked in surprise.

"Because I hoped it wouldn't be necessary. It is temporary like the tattoo, but it will hurt much more. Dove, it will hurt as if it was a real brand, and then again each time I have to renew it," Rayven said. "I didn't think you could take it, little Dove." Her eyes were steady, not wavering in the slightest as she looked at the princess.

In the back of her mind, Isana noticed that Rayven wasn't saying "my" when referring to her. "Goddess, that bothers me more than the idea of feeling that type of pain," she thought to herself. "I'd take any pain she wanted to inflict on me to prove myself to her." Slowing her horse to a stop, she waited until Rayven turned around and came back.

"Mistress, you are risking your life for me each step of our journey. If I unwittingly give us away, I put us both in danger. Perform the magic if you think I can take it now," she told Rayven. Her voice was strong and fully of commitment.

Rayven looked at her. "I didn't then. This new woman in front of me, I believe she can do anything necessary. Yes, my little Dove; tonight at our camp, I'll work the magic." She wheeled her horse and gently kicked her heels to get him going again. "That is hours from now, however. Even with a better disguise, I'll feel better putting more space between us and that village."

As the sun began its slow descent back down behind the horizon, they continued their pace. Every couple of hours, they switched horses. By now, Isana was an expert at this and could switch her saddle between horses almost as fast as Rayven. Once again, she pushed them until the light from the sunset was almost gone.

As the light faded, she began to look for a good place to stay the night. Finally, she found a hollow that would shelter them from sight. Tonight for once, they would have a fire, though a small one. While Isana put up their shelter and got out food, she collected enough wood to keep a fire going for a couple of hours. "I'd rather not, but it is necessary," she thought. Once it was going, she sat down beside Isana to eat their meal.

"Well done, my little Dove. You remembered the fruits and vegetables. I'd almost forgotten them," she said as she picked up an apple and bit into it. "Mmmm," she said, as she tasted the sweetness of it. A little bit of juice ran down from the corner of her mouth to her chin.

Isana couldn't help stare at the little drop. "I'd like to lick that away," she thought. "I wonder what she would do if I did." Her body trembled slightly. "She'd know. Know what I really want." As was so often the case when she contemplated Rayven, she felt a trace of wetness between her legs. "But maybe she already knows," she thought as she looked back down at her food. "She seems to always see through me." The throbbing between her grew stronger, while butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Isana wasn't sure she was ever this nervous before. She started slightly as Rayven finished eating and got up.

"I'll get ready, Dove. If you are still sure you want to go through with this," Rayven asked her. She looked down at the younger woman.

"I do, Mistress," she replied. For a moment, she continued to look down at her food, and then she looked up to meet her gaze. Her sky blue eyes didn't waver, and there was a need there that Rayven recognized.

Nodding, she stood up and went over to her horse. Rayven rummaged through her bag of potions and other magic, taking out a bottle. She also reached into one of the saddlebags and got out a couple of things. One was quite long and it wasn't obvious what it was.

As Rayven walked back, Isana was struck by the powerful way she moved and she felt her excitement grow even more. She was not sure why she felt this way, but she couldn't deny how much it was affecting her. She thought back to what Rayven said earlier. The pain would be intense, even if the brand was only an illusion. She couldn't help thinking about the commitment a woman would show to let her Mistress do that to her. The idea was captivating. "If I let her do that, I'd really belong to her," she thought. The heat between her legs flared up higher.

After placing some of the times down on the ground, Rayven took the long one and stuck one end into the fire. As it went in, Isana recognized it. It was a branding iron. She looked nervous, eyes darting from it to Rayven's face.

"It's part of the magic, my little Dove. I don't use it on you, but I will on this piece of leather," she told her. Sitting down, she picked up the things she left on the ground. Unstopping the bottle of potion, she poured out several drops onto a scrap of leather. Slowly she worked the viscous liquid into it; whispering words that Isana could truly neither hear nor understand. There was a rhythm to it and she felt herself being drawn into cadence. Her eyes were captured by the way Rayven's fingers moved and she swayed with the tempo of her chant. The chant seemed to reach deep down into her, adding to the excitement already coursing through her.

When she was done, Rayven looked at her. "One last time, little Dove, this will hurt as if I was branding you. Are you certain?" she asked.

No longer trusting her voice, Isana nodded. She felt the excitement tingling through her. This was a test, to see if she was willing to endure it for Rayven, for her Mistress, although it wasn't as deep as a true brand. This was just another disguise, not a commitment sealed through the acceptance of that intense and irreversible act. This would fade over time if she didn't renew it.

"Alright," Rayven said. "Take off your top and your undershirt, little Dove." Her voice was commanding, making it clear to Isana that she was to obey without question, which she did.

Rayven felt power being channeled through her. This magic was only possible through the Goddess, and there would be a price for it. Although she had resisted so far, she would concede her Goddess her due tonight. Despite her still slight unwillingness, she felt her pulse quicken in anticipation. Ashura knew which levers to pull with her, of that there was no doubt.

Slipping her upper garments off and laying them on the log, Isana felt Rayven's eyes upon her. Her breasts were not large, but they perfectly matched her body with a gentle swell to a pear shape, each topped with a dark red nipple. They were hard and sticking out now. She didn't look up, but she could feel the powerful aura that emanated from Rayven.

When she dripped a few drops of potion onto Isana's arm, the younger woman couldn't hold back the little moan. A warmth spread out from that spot and slowly covered her whole body. Her nipples tingled as it touched them, and when it reached between her legs, she let out a much louder moan.

Reaching down, Rayven pulled the branding iron from the fire. The tip was red hot. It was almost a supernatural glow. In the night air, Isana caught a glimpse of it. It was a raven in flight. She gasped. "This is truly her brand," she thought. "But her horse doesn't bear this." A little jealous part of her mind wondered who bore this mark before. As Rayven pressed it into the piece of leather, the hiss of the burn was easy to hear and a slight whiff of singed leather surrounded them. The smell instantly chased those petty thoughts away.

The leather went around her arm and then Rayven pressed her hand against it. Her fingers were tight around the arm. Isana heard her begin to chant in that same unintelligible tongue. For the first second, there was no sensation, but then she began to feel the burning begin. It went deeper than with the tattoo, and as promised, it was more excruciating. It grew and went from intense to painful. She could feel her skin sizzling. The smell of the leather seemed like burnt flesh.

"Oh gods," she gasped, finally closing her eyes from the pain.

"Oh Goddess," Rayven corrected her.

"Oh Goddess," she repeated automatically.

"For you worship her now," Rayven said. Her voice was lower, and had a different timbre to it.

"Yes," Dove hissed. The fire in her arm felt somehow connected to one burning between her legs, only there it wasn't pain but desire that was flaming up.

"Dove, are you a Beloved of Ashura?" Rayven asked. The strange aspect of her voice was stronger.

The pain was peaking; burning with a brightness that she was sure must be visible, if only she could open her eyes. She knew what Rayven was asking. A Beloved of Ashura was more than just one who lay with other woman. She was someone who had never lain with a man, who didn't desire that.

"Yes Mistress, I am a Beloved of Ashura," she told her. Suddenly the pain died away completely, and she opened her eyes. Involuntarily, she gasped.

Rayven was right there in front of her, lifting her hand off her arm, but superimposed around her seemed like there was a second person, a golden ghost. Her features were both like Rayven's and yet different. Dove felt the hair on her neck and arms stand up. The aura of the second woman washed over her.

"Ashura," Dove breathed. She tried to look back and forth between Rayven and the goddess. It was impossible to see where one began and the other ended.

A voice whispered in Dove's ear and she recognized the unnatural voice she had heard before when Rayven spoke. "She is The Beloved of Ashara," the goddess told her. There was an erotic power to her voice. It was almost as if the voice was caressing her most intimate places.

"My Avatar in the world," the golden voice told her. Dove felt it swirling around her nipples.

"Warrior." There was a tiny spike of pain as if someone had nipped at them.

"Lover," the voice said softly and drawing the word out. It was as if someone was dragging their fingers along her most private parts. She shuddered.

"Mistress." The voice entered her, sliding into her wet passage, bumping up against the thin membrane guarding her womb. She moaned with pleasure.

"You please Ashura," Rayven said in her own voice.

Once again, Dove's eyes snapped open, having closed in pleasure. The golden figure was gone. It was just the two of them, although she noticed a golden glow in Rayven's eyes. Rather than the dim flicker she saw before, this was a deep and pulsing fire that didn't fade.

"The Goddess!" Dove said in awe.

Rayven said nothing but it seemed to Dove that the golden glow pulsed even bigger. She touched the collar around Dove's neck and she spoke more words of magic. At least they came out of Rayven's mouth, but they were with the voice of the Goddess. The power in them was immense and she felt the collar changing. There was a sudden twist and something fell down her back to the ground. She put her hand behind her neck and touched it. The buckle was gone. It was one seamless piece of leather, nor could it be cut off. She instinctually knew that only magic could make it part again. Dove began to cry tears of joy. A feeling of security and belonging washed over her. In her whole life, she had never felt anything like it. It was as if she was coming home.

Dove looked at her arm, twisting to see the magical brand. She smiled in delight. The raven in flight was easy to see. Anyone meeting them would understand that she belonged to Rayven. "I'm Rayven's Dove," she whispered.

She looked up at Rayven with her mouth open to say something when the other woman kissed her. It was a hard kiss, full of passion and lust. Dove moaned and opened her mouth, offering it to Rayven who took it immediately with her tongue sliding inside. Her own tongue reached out to greet it. Her hands clutched desperately at Rayven's shoulders, pulling her half-naked body up against her. All her desires before this paled to how she felt now. She knew with certainty that only Rayven could give her the release she needed.

All at once, her hair was pulled and the kiss abruptly ended. She gasped with her lips seeking Rayven's. Her eyes blinked as she looked at her new Mistress. She was completely unaware of the desperate whimpers she was making.

"Take off the rest of your clothes for me, my little Dove. Show me your body."

Without any delay, Dove was on her feet and undoing the ties on her pants. She let them drop to the ground. She felt a momentary flash of embarrassment as she put her hands on her underpants. It quickly passed and she pushed them down. "She's already seen this," she told herself.

As she stepped out of them, Dove looked over at her Mistress. The intensity of her golden hued eyes both unnerved and exhilarated her. As much as she felt like she should cover herself up, she knew what Mistress commanded. "Show me your body."

Facing Rayven, she arched her back, presenting herself. Her pale skin turned a bright red from behaving so brazenly, but she also felt her private parts get even wetter. "I wonder if I really am dripping my juices or if it just feels that way," she thought. She glanced again at Rayven, still unable to read her face. She put one hand on her hip and bent a knee. "Do I please you, Mistress?" she asked.

"You do," Rayven said. "Your body is very lovely." Reaching both hands out, she ran them down the soft skin of Dove's sides, coming to rest on her hips. Her fingers closed and held on tight. Her gaze traveled slowly down the body of the virgin beauty. Her firm breasts and curves gave proof to her being of age. Her eyes stopped, looking at the wispy blonde hairs that adorned her mound below the flat belly.