Embrace of the Goddess Ch. 02

Chapter 2: Sacrifice

Iriel turned off the steaming water that filled her tub and sank into it. She sighed as the water rose up to her neck, helping her clean off the sweat of the night before.

She had to start each day like this now. Her dreams were always fevered, and each morning she woke up sweaty and wet. Her sheets were tangled from her thrashing about, trying to escape Maloth's tomb or trying to get back in. They were erotic nightmares where she was consumed and orgasmed as Maloth chewed on her flesh or perhaps she climaxed as the smoke of Maloth penetrated her, lifting her up and filling her with its ash.

Each night they were more awful and wonderful than the night before.

But Iriel hated the stench of sweat and lust clinging to her body. She always bathed before going out into the Abbey. The other girls may not recognize the scent, but if she didn't wash it off, her mind couldn't escape the dreams.

Not that it helped much. Each girl was still a buffet of delights and temptations as she walked past them. She would minister prayers to them, and while their heads were bowed and eyes closed, she'd lean in close and inhale their scent or try to look down their lose robes. She imaged bending them backward, sometimes until they literally snapped in two, and fucking them until he came. But those weren't the worst fantasies. The worst was when she imagined them praying to her, to Iriel, all of them worshipping her and begging for the opportunity to serve her body. And why shouldn't they pray for that? She could be a goddess like Maloth. She could be Maloth herself, the Second Coming, that descended on this Abbey and swept it up in a cloud of lust and depravity. Why shouldn't she rule them? They were all eager for a goddess, but the one they worshipped was dead. There was no one left to serve but Iriel, and they practically did already.

They worship you.

Iriel smiled as the voice danced in her head. Once it was dark and grating, but now it was smooth and thick, like heavy perfume, like rich chocolate and thick cream. It was more present now, speaking to her constantly, and now that she was safe in her bath, she didn't have to hesitate as her hand slipped between her legs. The voice was an invader before, but now it was a friend. It was the only thing that understood what she was going through. Years of training in the Abbey, decades of pressure from her mother and family to be the perfect High Priestess for the Order of Azora, told her that she was perverted, that she should be expelled for depravity. But the voice never hated her, never judged her. It understood that any reasonable person with blood in their veins would want to grab Orilana's hair and force her mouth between your legs. She had such perfect lips for kissing, why not kiss Iriel's pussy?

The copper-haired elf sighed as she sank lower into the hot water. The only way to wash the lust off was to push through it. She had to cum, and then she could think again. The voice in her head would quiet, the fantasies would dull, and she could get some work done before some acolyte bent over too far and gave Iriel a peek at her cleavage, starting the whole cycle over again.

Iriel's hands worked faster. She wouldn't be able to touch herself until tonight, not properly, not the way her body begged her to. Now she could grab her nipples and twist. She could moan softly and writhe against the washtub. She could be creative with a thousand pleasures of the flesh, each one suggested by the voice. It taught her new techniques, gave her new fantasies, whispered new curiosities. Who would think to slide a finger in their anus when cumming? The voice would. And now Iriel did too. Later today, she may be able to escape to a washroom for a few minutes if Prim said anything too sexy, which was almost anything from the cute angel's mouth, but she wouldn't be able to explore her body properly like she could now.

"High Priestess?" A soft voice accompanied a gentle knock on the door.

Iriel groaned and opened her eyes. Slowly, she moved her hand away from her pussy, though the fingers resisted the pull.

"Yes, Zara?"

"Do you need help?" asked her handmaiden. She was a naiad, a water nymph. Elementals like her tended to be of low intelligence and personality, as evident by her inability to understand that Iriel did not want to be disturbed.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"You think I can't bathe myself?" Iriel took a deep breath, trying to push through her impatience. The High Priestess was to be a beacon of understanding and compassion. She couldn't go around verbally accosting the staff, no matter how inept they were.

"Um ... that's not it, High Priestess."

"What is it?"

"Prim is here to speak with you."

"Tell her I'm bathing."

"I did, High Priestess. I'm afraid she's insistent."

"Can it wait?"

"She's been waiting for quite a while."

"She can wait a while longer."

There was a pause, but Iriel could feel the naiad standing outside her door. Could she sense what Iriel was doing in the water? Was that what this was about? She wasn't sure what the extent of Zara's powers were, but maybe she was gently suggesting the High Priestess of Azora should stop lewdly fucking herself.

"She's been waiting almost an hour," whispered Zara.

"What?" Iriel sat up and water sloshed out of the tub and onto the floor. "What do you mean? It's been that long?"

"I'm sorry, High Priestess. You made it clear that I should not interrupt you."

"You ... "Iriel closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Tell her what you're doing here, said the Voice. Bring her in and fuck her.

Iriel breathed deeply and uttered a prayer to Azora. She needed purity now. She needed cleanliness. Now wasn't the time to give in to her fantasies. If she did, she'd be found out. She didn't know what would happen to a High Priestess as depraved as her. Acolytes could be expelled, but the High Priestess? It'd be blasphemy. In ancient times she'd be burned at the stake, but the Abbey hasn't burned anyone in centuries. Would she be the one to bring it back?

"Come in," commanded Iriel. "Wash me and dress me."

"Yes, High Priestess."

Iriel rose and took a deep breath. As she breathed out, white light washed over her. The lightly quickly burned golden, and she felt the toxins leave her body. Her spirit was pure, if only for a moment.

The door opened and Zara stepped in. Naiad's weren't entirely corporeal, though they could become so if they needed to. She was partly translucent, made of water that took a female form. She came from a river near the Abbey that formed a beautiful waterfall and cascaded over the edge of the cavern. Zara's mother was the naiad of the waterfall, but she was closer to a goddess because of her beauty and prestige. Zara had long blue hair that went down her back, and the modesty of the Abbey insisted that she wear a simple dress over her watery skin, though most nymphs preferred to be nude. She had a plain and round face, relatively unremarkable, but her eyes always unsettled Iriel. They were never one color, but rather a mixture of green, blue, teal, and turquoise all swirling around. She kept her face down, though, trying not to distract or upset people with her eyes.

Iriel had always thought of her as homely, and yet, as she stood in the doorway to her washroom, Iriel's mind wandered to the curves of the naiad's body, hidden by the drab dress. She wondered if Zara could sense her lust and juices mixed in the washtub, and how she would respond to Iriel's lust. Would her chest heave? Would her nipples harden? She could never be called homely then. Could Iriel order Zara to be more comfortable and forego her dress? Maybe all the nymphs in the Abbey should do the same. Yes, that'd be ... delicious.

Mmm, imagine what she could do, washing over you.

Iriel smiled, and Zara looked back down at the floor in front of her. If she could blush, Iriel was certain that she would now.

"Come," said Iriel, stepping out of the tub, and spreading her arms. "Wash me."

"Yes, High Priestess."

Iriel turned and faced the full-length mirror in front of her. It wasn't as large or elegant as the mirror in Maloth's tomb, but it reminded her of what waited for her. She hadn't found time to go down there again. Once guards started disappearing, Orilana ordered Iriel to be accompanied by a guard at all times. Prim was ordered to investigate what was happening. She had no idea that the debauchery and missing guards were connected. She knew nothing about Maloth. She'd find nothing, but in the meantime, Iriel couldn't return to the mirror. She was disconnected from finding out more or completing whatever was happening to her. She was stuck fantasizing and burning with shame over the images that danced in her head.

Iriel spread herself, looking over her body. Her own image was the one female body that didn't drive her insane with lust like it did in Maloth's mirror. Her hair was still a copper-colored red, like a burnt sunrise. Her skin was warm and radiant, reflecting the light of Azora in her very being, a product of her desert heritage. Her body was trim and lithe, but she hadn't been eating lately. She'd rather take meals in her room and use the time to touch herself, leaving the food abandoned. Any moment of potential privacy was used to failingly satiate her hunger. She could appreciate her breasts and narrow hips, things she now obsessed over with every other woman. Her breasts were firm and round, large enough, though Iriel found herself wishing all breasts were larger. It was her nipples she truly loved, deep brown and firm. Twisting and pulling them always brought her over the edge when she was touching herself, and she enjoyed them as a sign for Zara to interpret, a subtle flaunting of her lust that could be attributed to the cold.

Iriel raised her arms, as Zara moved behind her. The pale blue woman made a gentle motion with both hands, drawing them down, and Iriel was instantly dry. Iriel gave a soft gasp whenever it happened, and Zara never tried to hide her smirk. The naiad enjoyed using her powers, which she rarely got to do in the giant stone Abbey.

"Cold, High Priestess?" asked Zara.

Iriel smiled and covered her chest, feigning modesty.

"Whenever I lose the coating of water ... I ... yes," said Iriel. It was hard to be embarrassed about it now, but Iriel was getting better and better at lying.

"Completely normal, High Priestess."

"Yes."

"Which robe today, High Priestess?"

"Something blue." Iriel licked her lips. "I'm obsessed with blue today."

Zara missed the hint and turned to get clothing for Iriel without another word. She returned in a moment with underclothes that she helped Iriel into, and then wrapped the larger sky-blue robe around her, with a sun cresting over the horizon of her breasts, spreading light over her torso and down her back.

"Lovely," said Zara when she finished fastening it.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Prim is waiting in your office, High Priestess."

Zara turned to leave.

Take her, whispered the voice.

"Wait," said Iriel, holding up her hand before she could think better of it. Zara paused and turned around.

"Something else, High Priestess?"

"Come here."

Zara obeyed and came to Iriel's side. The elf put her hands on Zara's shoulder and positioned the naiad in front of her. Zara didn't look into the mirror, but Iriel did, trying to get a glimpse of her beautiful eyes, trying to see the shape of her body underneath her frumpy dress.

Behind Zara, she saw herself, holding her handmaiden's shoulders, looking at her like a piece of meat. In the reflection, Iriel's eyes were dark and smokey. She'd put no makeup on, but a shadow seemed to linger behind her eyes, reminding her of her reflection in Maloth's Mirror. The reflection grinned at her, and she returned it.

"Do you like the dress you wear?" asked Iriel, softening her voice and smoothing it out.

"It suits me fine, High Priestess." Zara grabbed the fabric of her dress and tugged on it, keeping her eyes fixed to the floor.

"I thought nymphs preferred to be free." Iriel leaned in closer and whispered. "To be unrestrained."

Zara said nothing, though she swayed and wiggled gently in Iriel's hands.

"Is that true?" pressed the elf.

"The dress suits me fine, High Priestess," muttered Zara. "May I go, please?"

"Soon," whispered Iriel. She looked back up at the mirror. Her reflection was pale and dark, smoke wrapped around it like a cloak, like a crown on her head. In it, it licked Zara's ear.

Lick her like this, cooed the Voice.

Iriel leaned down and licked. Zara squealed and squirmed out of Iriel's hands, stepping forward but not away.

"Is that all, High Priestess?"

Iriel looked up. The reflection was billowing with smoke and power. In it, she was naked except for sheer coverings, the trappings of a whore. Her nipples and tongue were pierced. Horns curved from her head. Her feet were hooved, and a pointed tail curved around her body and slithering into her wet pussy, pressing through the negligible fabric. In the mirror, she was the dark goddess, and all would worship her and become like her.

Set her free.

"I want you to be free," said Iriel. She stepped forward, and as Zara tried to step away, Iriel muttered a casual Command spell without thinking better of it, trapping the nymph in place before her. "Don't you want to be free?"

"Am I free to go?"

"Use my title," whispered Iriel. "I love to hear it dance on your lips." She ran her hands up and down Zara's arms as the reflection told her to do.

"Am I free to go, High Priestess?"

"Mmmm," moaned Iriel. "Lovely." She leaned in closer. "And no. I want you to stay and please me. You want to please me, don't you?"

"Please," whimpered Zara.

"Please what?"

"Please, High Priestess."

Fuck her, hissed the Voice.

Iriel trailed her fingertips over Zara's skin. It was soft and damp, like tipping her fingers into warm water. "Take off the dress," whispered Iriel.

"Please, may I go, High Priestess?"

Be free.

"Please."

There was a loud bang on the door. "High Priestess!" shouted Prim's voice. "I need to speak with you immediately."

Iriel's reverie broke and Zara scampered out of the room. Iriel cursed, and shouted, "One moment," to Prim.

She looked back to the mirror, desperate. Her reflection was diminished. She was pale and dark, but the smoke, horns, hooves, and tail were gone.

"What do I have to do?" asked Iriel. She moved closer and put her hand on the mirror, hoping to feel flesh, to touch herself again as she did in Maloth's presence.

Sacrifice, said the Voice, but the lips of her reflection moved as the Voice ran over her body, tingling her skin like ice.

"What do I need to give up? Name it. I'll do it. Please."

Come back to me with a sacrifice.

"Zara? Do you want Zara?" Iriel pressed both hands up against the mirror, desperate. She wanted to step through, to wrap herself around her reflection and kiss her, to taste her until the smoke entered her and she stepped out renewed, dark and wonderful.

Power, said the Voice. The sacrifice needs more power.

"High Priestess?"

Iriel turned and saw Prim standing there, looking at her with concern. The Aasimar paladin was in her silver plate with an orange-red cape draping behind her. Her pale pink hair, one sign of her angelic heritage, was in a braid draped over her shoulder. She had a heart-shaped face that came to a sharp point, shining silver eyes, and pale skin. She was slim but strong. Iriel imagined her body was covered with endless curves and tight swells of muscles.

"Yes?" asked Iriel. She looked back to the mirror, but it was her old, plain reflection. It was her body holding sunlight, not shadow.

"We need to speak, immediately."

"Yes, yes." Iriel sighed and smoothed out her robe. "What is it?"

"I think you should come with me. Do you have your staff?"

Both women glanced to the corner of the chamber where the Staff of the Eclipse, the most powerful relic of Azora, rested against the wall.

"Will I need it?"

"Absolutely. I'd have the Chains of Heldoran here if I could."

Iriel grabbed the staff and waved for Prim to lead the way. The Chains of Heldoran were forged by the gods to bind a god. It was thought that Azora was hasty to try and defeat her sister. She could have bound her instead. That wasn't the way it was taught at the Abbey. They taught that she was brave and compassionate to fight her sister, sacrificing herself to save the world.

"What have you found?" asked Iriel as they stepped out of her chambers and into the stone halls of the Abbey. Her guard, a young elven woman named Curim followed behind them without a word.

Prim looked back at Curim nervously.

"Quiescis," whispered Iriel. Their footsteps became muffled as the spell took hold. No one could hear what they had to say now. "There," she said. "Speak."

"I began my investigation with the missing guards, inspecting the area around the ... the ..."

Prim looked to Iriel for permission. "Orilana told you?" asked the High Priestess.

Prim nodded. Her pink braid slithered off her shoulder and down her back, draping over her orange-red cape.

"Call it the Chapel," commanded Iriel.

"Yes, High Priestess."

"Go on, you went there first."

"Yes, because that was where guards went missing. I tried to track them and see if I could find out where they went."

"Orilana said that would lead to nothing."

"She was right. They seemed to join the ranks of the Abbey. It's as though they went to bed and vanished."

"Teleportation?"

"No arcane signs."

"What next?" asked Iriel.

"Well, we thought that something came down to get them, but there were no tracks for that."

"Right."

"But no one thought to see if something came from behind."

The skin on Iriel's arm tingled. She gripped the Staff of the Eclipse tight, wondering if Prim knew what happened in the tomb, what happened to Iriel. Did she know what Iriel saw in the mirror? What she wanted to do to Zara? What she wanted to do to Prim herself? Maybe she was taking her to Orilana, to arrest her. This could be a trap. Would the staff have enough power to defeat them all? Perhaps. Perhaps she'd have to fight her way down to Maloth and throw herself at the dark goddess's mercy.

"What did you find?"

"Several sets of prints going into and out of the chapel."

"Acolytes and Sisters alike hold their vigil there. That's no surprise."

"But some went deeper, to a hidden staircase."

Iriel held her breath, waiting to see what Prim knew, what she was accusing her of. She thought through her list of spells. She could blind her first, yes. She'd blind her, then bind her to the stone floor, and then she could run. That may work.

"Not as many as the entrance to the Chapel," said Prim.

Iriel released her breath, easing her grip on the staff. "How many?"

"Five or six," said Prim. "Hard to tell."

"Any distinct?"

Prim shook her head. "Some were boots like the guards wear. Some were typical acolyte footwear. Nothing conclusive."

"Did you go down the staircase?" asked Iriel. She didn't want to press too much, to tip Prim off about what was down there, but she could be talking to a potential ally. Maybe Maloth corrupted Prim as well. Maybe they were going to serve her together.

They walked past the classrooms, quarters, and dining hall of the Abbey, descending deeper and deeper into the earth. There was no doubt they were going to the Chapel, to the tomb. If Prim didn't know, she was close to figuring it out. Iriel should feel nervous, should be afraid, but she could only think about the mirror and how excited she was to finally see it again. Even if Prim arrested her there, she didn't think anything could stop her from throwing herself down in front of the mirror. She was foolish to leave the first time, but she wouldn't make that mistake again. She would stay as long as she needed, as long as it took to become what her reflection promised.