Finding Goddess Ch. 16

But when the Goddess departed and brought an end to Notrath's war, Death did not depart with Her. It would continue to hound the steps of all Her beloved creations. For with the loss of the Goddess came grief. With grief came despair. And with despair came sloth and apathy, the inability to continue living. For Woman continued to love the Goddess, but how could she love that which she could no longer see with her eyes, hold with her hands, or electrify with her sacred clitoris? She could only ever hunger for Her now, and a hunger not sated is a pain like no other.

Many a Lover perished of despair on the night Zenriah abandoned them. Many more perished in the nights that followed, grieving both the loss of their Goddess and the loss of their wives and mothers and daughters. Many others held firm, many held strong, believing that one day, their beloved Goddess would come back to them. Zenriah would return and all would be well again, all would be just, all would be good, just as it was before the arrival of the Demoness.

But so it was, as stalwart as her heart, as blessed as her soul, without her Goddess, Woman became and remained a fragile creature. Woman can wait for the One she loves, but she cannot quell the yearning in her heart. To yearn is to unmake the soul, to rot the spirit, to bleed it to stone. Even Zenriah could not cease Her yearning, and it was through Her yearning that She fell nearly to despair, saved only by Her miraculous creation. If a forlorn Goddess deprived of Her love can fall, how would Woman, a mere flicker of Her magnificence, fare?

A score of years passed and the Goddess did not return. Woman would continue to wait.

A century went by and the Goddess did not return. Woman began to waver.

Half a millennium transpired and the Goddess cast not a shadow. Woman now fell to her knees.

Eighty-five more years flowed past without the Goddess' touch. And in sadness and despair, Woman ceased to be.

And from that day on, Woman would inescapably be preyed upon by Death. For in her heart, she would always yearn for the Goddess who could not come and could not be. She would yearn until she could yearn no more, and then she would turn to dust. Just like the birds and the beasts of the Earth, Woman would become a mortal creature, her eternal life forever cut short by her shorn heart.

***

Carol's eyes scrolled through line after line of her latest text document, but her mind barely registered the words. She remembered there was something about a war in this manuscript. At least, she thought it was about a war; there was a detailed battle description...right, right, it was a nonfiction account about the Napoleonic Wars. Or maybe it was a biography about some marshal who led one division or other in the Grande Armée...or perhaps it was just a story using the wars as a backdrop. Come to think of it, she couldn't recall if the book was meant to be fictional or not.

The Napoleonic Wars. A truly fascinating period of human history that embroiled all of Europe and nearly half the rest of the world in chaos. France against the British, the Russians, the Saxony, the Prussians, and...too many others to count. The Seven Coalitions. The dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire. The Treaties of Pressburg, Tilsit, and Chaumont. The Battle of Waterloo. It was all so...so...

Miniscule.

The Napoleonic Wars, the Persian Wars, the World Wars, the Warring States period, and all the thousands of other wars that checkered human history, headed by Patton and Caesar and Khan and Elizabeth and Washington and Lennon and Liu Bei...all of them...just seemed to...blur together. Like a dozen buckets of spilled paint. Just the thought of them made Carol feel dizzy and caused her own vision to blur, making the office look like it had been enveloped in a hot desert haze. Which it very nearly was.

She read the Scripture. She learned all there was to know about the Goddess' War. How it enveloped the entire planet, how it pitted all of womankind against an endless horde of unholy monsters. Forests burned, mountains crumbled, and whole lands sunk forever into the sea. It was a dreadful centuries-long cataclysm that undid all a goddess, THE Goddess, had made, and reset civilization to zero. Compared to it, the wars humanity waged for the past 5000 years were a drop in the ocean. They may have set the course for human history, but so what? The Goddess' War changed human nature forever. Possibly irreversibly.

Carol sniffled at the thought and rubbed another tear from her eye. The Goddess. Zenriah. She was gone. Most definitely for good. Never again would She grace the world with Her heavenly beauty. And never would Carol ever have the opportunity to see Her, hear Her, touch Her.

But I want Her. I want Her so much. I'd do anything for Her. Anything...but...but...

But the one thing she absolutely needed to do: become a Zenrist and live naked forevermore.

Carol came back to the present and pulled her hands away from her blouse, which they had been fingering at. So close...she was coming dangerously close to stripping herself bare. Just thinking about Zenrism, the Scripture, and the Goddess was enough to make her lose control of herself.

"I can't work...I can't work like this," she mumbled, pushing herself from her desk. "I need something cool. Something cold. A gust of air, a cube of ice, a fresh can of soda in my hand..."

That's it. She could go to a vending machine. There was one in this building, it sold all kinds of beverages, like sodas, juices, and bottled water. It would...it would surely help relieve her of this awful...heavy...suffocating...HEAT! Carol very nearly ran through the building, zipping by offices, cubicles, and desks until she could see the break room, its bright lights and vending machines and refrigerator all blooming in sight like a holy angel before her.

A holy angel in the form of a pretty girl wearing nothing but a smile...and a pair of spectacles...wait a minute...

BAM!

"YEEEE!"

She crashed and tumbled to the floor. For an instant, her vision turned white. Then she saw stars. When she finally came to, she found herself looking directly into the wide, brown, bespectacled eyes of the chestnut-haired intern whose name still eluded her.

"M-Miss Connors?" the girl stammered as she looked up at the older woman lying on top of her.

Close...she's so close to me...

"Is...is something wrong?"

She's so pretty. She's so cute.

"C-can you...get off of me already? Please?"

She's not naked. But she's not wearing a coat either. Just a white button-up shirt.

"Miss Connors, are you feeling okay?"

It's covered in sweat. I can just make out the outline of her body underneath it. I can see her bra. Carol licked her lips.

"Are you sick?"

Her whole body's covered in sweat. I can see it on her hair. On her face. It's glistening everywhere.

"H-hot," Carol murmured. "You're so...hhhaaauuuuut!"

The intern's ruby-red lips looked so moist. So kissable. She wanted to engulf them. She wanted to swallow them. She wanted to make them her own, along with the rest of the girl.

"Miss Connors?"

Must have her...I must have her! Carol couldn't think straight, couldn't think logically, couldn't think at all. Her brain snapped, all notions of modesty disappeared, all sense of civility vanished. All that remained was raw, animalistic, womanly instinct.

Their lips were inches apart.

Their breasts were touching.

She was straddling the girl's waist.

What else could Carol do but what she was made to do?

"Uh...am I interrupting something here?'

The voice of the intruder snapped Carol back to reality. Where once she was looking at a tasty morsel in the eye like a hungry predator, now she saw a baffled girl who was honestly young enough to be her daughter. And to the side, she saw a fellow co-worker of hers, closer to her age, male, balding, and covered in his own sheen of sweat. And all she could think, for what had to be the umpteenth time that week, was: Shit, I'm dead. Again.

"I...I accidentally bumped into her," said the intern. "It was just an accident is all."

"An...accident," Carol repeated, her voice hoarse, barely a breathy whisper. "Yessss...that is...what it was."

Reluctantly, she pushed herself off the girl, gritting her teeth as she felt the intern's body leave her own. Even with the layers of clothing between them, she still felt nice, and Carol's body was screaming to feel more of her supple flesh...but the rational side of her mind, hanging on by a thread as it was, won out. She would not seduce the girl...she would not seduce the girl.

"I...see," said the sweaty guy. "Well uh, I...guess I'll be going then."

As he turned and walked away, the intern pulled herself up off the floor. "Yes, I should be going too. I'm...I'm really sorry about this, Miss Connors! Please don't report me!"

"Report...you?" Carol asked, feeling dizzy, confused, and still very horny. "Why...would..."

But the girl didn't stick around to hear her out. She turned tail and scurried away, leaving Carol all by herself.

"Damn it," Carol hissed as she stumbled into the break room. "Goddess fucking DAMN IT!"

She nearly lost control again. In the worst way possible. If that man hadn't shown up when he did, if he didn't speak up, she would have...she would have...she would have done something very inappropriate to that poor girl. And terrible, yes, that too of course. She would have done something truly vile to her. Something worse than just stripping naked, something worse than masturbating in the office.

"I can't keep this up...I can't keep this up," she panted, planting her hands flat on the table for support. She was losing her body, losing her mind, and it had only been a couple hours!

Sweat dribbled everywhere off her. She could feel it falling off her brow and onto the table, pouring down her armpits, slipping into the cleft of her buttocks, and even a few drops were slithering down her thighs. No, wait...were those last ones...really from her sweat glands? Carol slipped a hand down her skirt, snaked her arm to her groin, pushed her fingers through the forest of hair, felt them glide neatly into the groove of her sex. Warm, moist, and tingling. She pressed into it. Hard.

Her legs nearly collapsed from under her.

For the first time in over twenty years, Carol regretted not wearing any panties. Her pussy was burning hot and dripping wet all over the place like a lit candle. It was begging, no, demanding to be touched, to be stroked, to be beaten and fought like a ravenous dragon, so hungry she could feel it beginning to swallow her fingers. There was no way she could hide it; everyone would see the liquid pouring down her legs and know what was happening to her.

Worse, she couldn't fight it either. Not anymore.

Carol lifted her skirt up, exposing her ass and vulva to the hot air all around her. Then she sat on the table and spread her legs wide, giving anyone who was watching an intimate look into her inner workings. Then she masturbated. She pressed on her erect clit, rubbed circles into it, with force, with pressure. She felt electricity course throughout the little nub, into all 8000 of its nerves. She felt them shoot up her spine, down her legs, into the hairs on the back of her neck, down to her tiptoes, and even into the hardened buds of her equally erect nipples. She rubbed herself harder, faster, with even greater force, with more intense pressure, shivering as her strokes grew louder and wetter to her ears.

But she did not cum. Her petals flared. Her insides squelched. Her muscles convulsed. But she did not squirt, she did not splash, she didn't even ooze. She grew wetter and wetter, hotter and hotter, tinglier and tinglier...but her orgasm, her release, did not come.

Carol rubbed harder. She flicked her clit around with her thumb, mushing it this way, that way, and in and out of her vagina. She rubbed the rest of her sex with her fingers, slipping her index in, and then her middle, and then her ring. Her fingers burned as raw muscle rubbed all over them, pulsing moistly with mad fervor. She curled them up, caressing the pinkness within even more, caressing the flesh, stimulating it, touching the nerves, sending wave after wave of pleasure up and down her form. Her buttocks clenched, her nipples hardened, her voice cried out in ecstasy. But still her orgasm still did not come.

"AH, AH, AH, AH, AH!"

For ten minutes Carol masturbated, furiously. Her moans echoed throughout the break room, her pussy cried out with intense schlicks, her juices dribbled all over the table. But still her orgasm did not come. And it was only when Carol pulled away, by sheer force of will—still burning, still tingling, still feeling like cumming all over the place but not—did she realize it would never come. She...would never cum.

"Something's...happening to me."