Marks of a Shepherd Ch. 03

As Demetria pulled herself out of the stream where she bathed, goosebumps formed on her skin. The water evaporating in the breeze left her cool, but she did not tense or shiver. The sun broke through the trees, and she closed her eyes and savored it all: the birds chirping above her, the cool vapor lifting off her, and the rays that beat against her eyelids.

For much of the previous week her mind had swirled with envy, with images of her friend Cecile and Cecile's lover Cesar frolicking in the forest, giggling and nuzzling and kissing one another until they fell to the forest floor and fucked like rabbits. Of course she liked to see her happy, but she could not help but feeling this was an intrusion. She could not help but feel that Cecile had so much: a husband, a son, and a sly and confident smile. Demetria was not prone to jealousy, but her connection with the woods was what gave her peace, and to learn that her friend was connecting so deeply in a way that she was not had left her feeling lost.

Now though, three days after she had found Cesar in the forest herself and discovered why Cecile had seemed so addicted, Demetria was calm. The days had passed slowly. When she thought about what they would do together this second time, she smirked. She had been planning in her mind how it would go. She could not help but wonder if her previous encounter had also been planned, if Cecile's absence was part of some scheme to guide her into the woods, past the marked trees, and into Cesar's lap.

Whether that was the case or not, she would be the one guiding things now, she told herself.

Under the influence of desire and maybe a little jealousy, Demetria had done things with Cesar she hadn't done with anyone in years, but now she intended to be the one pushing boundaries. She imagined telling Cecile that coming Saturday at the market what she and Cesar were to do today and watching her blush. She imagined her friend feeling something akin to what she herself had experienced the week prior. Cecile would see the marks on the trees and wonder if her friend had been able to read something in them that she had not. She imagined Cecile seeing Cesar differently, scanning his eyes as she asked him about Demetria.

She liked the idea too of Cesar waiting. The image was still vivid in her mind of how he looked when she came upon him in the woods before he'd noticed her, the longing in his gaze, the eagerness in his restless fingers, fidgeting as he stood. She was thankful to him for awakening something in her, but now he would be the one who looked to her with thanks. She would be the one who kept him sated, who fed his desires. If he assented to her wishes today as gleefully as she expected, then she would be even more able to keep him waiting on his toes.

The idea had come to her on Sunday. Cracks in her faith had kept her from enjoying church since her father's passing, but it meant a lot to her mother, so she would still accompany her. Being unmarried at twenty-seven meant that, to the people in her church, she had failed in her duties. She could live with this. Demetria had no qualms about the choices she had made in life.

Even less did she worry about committing sins of the flesh. She wondered how the priest would react if she told him what she and Cesar did, how she crawled over him and took him into her mouth, how she used her tongue to please him for no end other than pleasure itself, how she spread her legs to feel the sweetness of his sly tongue. She wondered if he would get hot under the collar if she told him that she intended to meet Cesar in the same place today and have him slide his cock into her asshole.

She grinned and started to slide her finger over her anus, still wet from the stream. She would be the serpent today. She would be the one who welcomed the weary traveler into the gates of Sodom.

It was Sunday that she had decided she would do it, but she had been thinking about it since then, imagining details. Monday night she had a dream about it, the most vivid dream she'd had in years.

She was in an ornate temple, the way she imagined the temples of Babylon. She could see herself from afar. She stood at the base of a large staircase with pillars on each side. The stairs were glittering. They looked copper, azure, and gold. There were no windows or candles, yet everything gave off a dim light. The pillars were stone and solid and seemed to rise endlessly into a ceiling that looked like the night sky, starry and vast. The walls were stone as well, and countless animals were carved into the relief. Rabbits, foxes, squirrels, wolves, robins, frogs, and hawks. They were painted bright colors and were five times her size.

They seemed to look down and watch her with shining eyes as she began to ascend the stairs. She wore nothing but a silk lavender robe. She watched herself climb the staircase, her raven hair swaying. She did not know what she was doing there, yet it all felt familiar, like a dance she had seen performed one hundred times before.

As she reached the platform at the top of the stairs, she became aware that throngs of people had filled the temple. They stared up at her. All were clad in simple brown cloaks. She turned to face them. Most of the faces seemed familiar, but they were ones she could not quite place. In the back she thought she saw her neighbor, a slight smile visible above his bushy white beard. A few feet from him was her old teacher. Though she had been severe then, her face looked soft now, her eyes twinkled as she looked up, beaming at Demetria.

At the front of the crowd was Cecile. She stood out. All the others wore relaxed smiles, but Cecile watched doe-eyed and entranced. Her blonde hair was not in her usual bun but spilled down to her shoulders. Her mouth was closed and expressionless. Demetria looked down at her. Cecile's cheeks began to flush red, but her expression remained unchanged.

Demetria turned her back to Cecile and the others. In front of her was a raised altar, covered in blue and indigo tiles, its edge studded with little gold hemispheres. Two steps led to it from the right. Before it lay a collection of silver cups, bowls, and vials. On top of it lay cushions upholstered with red velvet with black and white stripes that twisted across them like vines. The platform seemed to fade into darkness in every direction save for the one from which she had come.

She lifted her arms and rolled her shoulders back, and the robe glided off of her body. She stood with her bare back to the crowd below. Their admiration warmed her as they gasped and clapped and cooed. Cecile's face grew redder, and her eyes grew wider. Her cloak opened an inch and revealed a sliver of her naked body beneath.

Two men stepped out from the darkness, one from either side of the altar. Their bodies were striking, familiar, and identical. They were Cesar, both of them. They had his musculature, his stature, and the same jagged birthmark on his left bicep. The only clothing they wore was deerskin loincloths, held in place by string, and the sight of all that flesh, tender and human in the dark and vast temple warmed Demetria. Each wore a wooden mask that covered all of his face above the lips save for two eyeholes. They resembled the animals carved into the walls. To her right was a fox in vibrant orange. His hands were crossed behind his back. To her left was a rabbit. Despite being wooden, the fur carved into the mask looked soft and velvety. He held his hands in front of him, fingers intertwined.

Demetria walked toward the steps at the right of the platform. As she approached Fox he inhaled in anticipation. She smiled. She walked up the steps and knelt on the cushioned platform, setting her butt on her heels. A few murmurs of excitement trickled up from the cloaked masses below. Her head was even with the two masked men now. Fox stepped behind her as Rabbit watched. He gathered her hair in his hands, stroking it was he went. He twisted it and tied it into a topknot.

Rabbit came forward. He reached down and produced a small bowl of rouge and a brush from the collection of vessels beside the platform. He stood at Demetria's side, looking eager and nervous. She smiled then closed her eyes as he dipped the brush in and dabbed the color onto her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. The pink on her face gave the impression of exertion. He set down the bowl and picked a small plate. He held it gingerly. Atop it was a pile of gold leaf flakes. Rabbit licked a finger and tapped it into the pile. A flake stuck to it, and he pushed it into Demetria's cheek. His touch was light, and it made her aware of the tiny hairs on her cheeks. He kept going, tapping tiny gold islands onto Demetria's face until the flakes looked like shining freckles.

Fox placed one cushion just in front of Demetria's and another at the head of the platform. She leaned forward, resting her chest and folded arms on the velvet pillow at the head. Her pelvis rested on the other. The pillows were soft but gave as though made of down, and they felt like they held her like notches. She rolled her hips forward. She liked the pressure of the pillow against her. The people below watched her, and she did not care. She looked ahead and saw the animals carved into the walls, and they seemed to watch her too. With half of her body now against the cushioned platform, Demetria became aware of how in the vastness of the temple she could feel a breeze blowing over her back.

Fox and Rabbit stood on either side of her shoulders. Fox held a little pot, and Rabbit held a palette. Fox dipped a finger into the pot and touched it to Demetria's back just below the neck. He moved it up almost to her right shoulder before moving it down closer to her spine. It left a black streak like an arch. Fox continued painting her, and Rabbit watched. He made a smaller arch lower down on her back. He dragged his finger down and drew a thick line onto her rump where he made a little spiral. It was a butterfly wing.

Rabbit and Fox switched places. Rabbit stood on her winged side and dabbed a finger onto his palette. He filled the wings with streaks of brilliant yellow. He dabbed another finger and added spots of crimson. Splashes of turquoise adorned the lower winglet. Meanwhile Fox worked on symmetry, mirroring the wing's outline onto the left side of her back. As they both stood closer to her head she noticed their smell, a mixture of earth, peach, sweat, and wine. She breathed deeply, letting any tension evaporate as the two men massaged the paint onto her skin.

When they were finished, her back bore the image of a brilliant swallowtail. Fox picked up a silver carafe from next to the altar. He walked to the front so that Demetria was facing him. He tilted it towards her, and she knew that she was to drink from it. Gently, he lifted her chin as he poured a floral red wine into her mouth. She let it fill her mouth and savored it before she swallowed.

Fox took a step back as Rabbit lifted a small metal cup and stood in front of her. He tilted it towards her, and she lifted her chin. He rested the rim on her lower lip. She felt the cool metal but no liquid. Honey hit her lips. A teaspoon of it fell into her mouth while a strand of it slipped over her lips and oozed down her chin. Rabbit pulled the cup away. Demetria savored the honey. It had an earthy taste like no honey she'd had before. She licked her lips.

She felt aware of her body, of the position in which she lay with her ass up in the air, of the wings painted on her back, of the lingering taste of honey in her mouth, and of the many eyes on her from the watchers below. Of all of them, she was most aware of Cecile whose cloak was opened further now. Her neck and face were reddened, and her eyes were focused on Demetria. Her body looked tense.

The two Cesar's stood in front of her, Rabbit to the left of Fox. She was supposed to choose one of them. She knew it. As before, Rabbit seemed a little nervous though he was trying to maintain his composure. Though little of his face was visible, she could tell he was flushed. Fox stood stoically with his hands behind his back. She knew that soon she would feel one of them, his hands holding her and caressing her, the restraint of their ritual dissolved into lust. She felt herself getting wet, and she relished her poise. She lay before the two of them as well as the masses below, bare, exposed, and in control.

She reached out and put her hand on Rabbit's waist. He stepped forward. The crowd below erupted in cheers. She pulled the string on his loincloth, and it fell to the floor. His member was already a little swollen. She knew that touching her body and staring at her so close in her pained glory had excited, but she could tell from his tensing muscles his joy when she chose him.

He knelt in front of her and leaned forward. Their lips met and held each other before she sucked his lower lip gently into her mouth. His tongue teased at her mouth. She let it in and met it with her own. After having the men paint and adorn her like attendants it felt good for one to kiss her like a lover.

After a few moments Rabbit broke of the kiss and stood up slowly. He was fully erect. She reached to him again and beckoned him closer. She craned her neck out and kissed the tip of his penis. Again, there were cheers from the crowd below. She looked up at him and smiled knowingly. He walked behind her.

Fox was now at the bottom of the steps. He stood behind Cecile. Her face was enrapt in the scene above now. Her cheeks were flushed, and her mouth was agape. Fox pulled her cloak open fully and began to caress her breasts. Cecile's own hand was between her thighs now, rubbing herself madly. Fox took the wine he had fed Demetria and poured it down Cecile's torso. It gushed over her body.

Demetria watched her friend come. Rabbit stood at her backside. He picked up a vial of oil and poured it between her buttocks. She relished its warmth and the way it tickled her exposed anus. Rabbit held her by the cheeks. She felt him set his rod between them. She awoke.

Demetria wasn't one to read into dreams. It was fun once in a while to talk about them with her friends, but she found little meaning in them. As an expression of desires, this one was hard to misinterpret though. She thought back on the dream and soon she would bring something similar to fruition. This sense of power two weeks ago would have felt foreign to her, but now she wielded it contently.

Her mind stopped wandering when she saw the position of the sun and realized how long she had spent at the stream. She clothed herself quickly, knowing that she would be late to her rendezvous with Cesar.

As Cesar stood in the clearing in the woods waiting, he tried to justify Demetria's absence. First he imagined that she had gotten cold feet, then that she was somehow occupied at home. Then he wondered if Cecile had dissuaded her somehow. When he thought of her sincerity at their first meeting though, he doubted that she lead him on.

Next he wondered why he himself had waited so long. He found himself tired of standing and sat on a stump. He could justify it to himself without admitting how much he had enjoyed Saturday. It was true that he enjoyed being in the woods even without a woman to share it with, but he knew the real reason he was there. Demetria didn't just have a great body. She was an engaging lover. She was genuine in a way that other affairs were not. She wasn't serious but neither was she playful. He thought back on the way she had taken him into her mouth last time, how amateurish her efforts felt but how clear were her desires.

What he remembered most though was her gorgeous ass. He could not get it out of his mind the last few days. He thought of the way it looked and the way she shook it at him. He thought of how it felt pushing back into him. The desire that kept him waiting there, whatever he told himself, was carnal and fierce.

Demetria entered the clearing with no commotion. She was carrying a tote. She wore a floral dress with man stains, clearly one that she often wore during chores. They looked at each other a while. Cesar did not want to admit that he'd been waiting long, and Demetria did not want to acknowledge that she arrived late. He was relieved that she had come though, and she was happy to see that his desire had kept him there despite her tardiness.

"You look lovely. You put this to shame," he said, gesturing towards the sun which had just begun to set.

She smiled. He was already resorting to flattery. "You're too sweet," she said.

She pulled a blanket from her bag and spread it on the ground. It was tattered and stained, but clearly an improvement from the uncovered ground where they'd spent their last encounter together.

"I thought we could be a little more comfortable this time," she said.

She knelt then sat on the blanket. He sat next to her with his legs out in front of him. She shifted closer and kissed his cheek, hoping to get his mouth occupied before he started trying to compliment her again. He pulled her in and kissed her lips. She leaned over him and ran her hands under his shirt. He sighed as she did and slid his tongue into her mouth, caressing her own. She struggled with her dress, hiking it up to her knees so that she could straddle his lap.

Even with the fabric from her dress and Cesar's pants still on, she could feel him getting hard. Demetria lowered more of her weight onto him, and he kissed her more intensely in response. He used one hand to support himself and the other rubbed her body. Impatiently, he began coaxing her arms out her dress. She broke their kiss and freed her arms from the dress.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yes, much," he said and pulled it down to expose her breasts.

He stroked her nipples and leaned in to kiss one. She stopped his hand.

"Your turn," she said and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Once his shirt was off, she pushed her torso against him. She had craved the feeling of his skin on hers since the last time they'd met.

It seemed he had too. She could feel him stiffening in his pants. She was proud how quickly he got excited. She smiled against his neck as she kissed it and ground her pelvis harder against him until she could feel it twitch.

He lifted her away from him.

"Wait," he said. He looked in her eyes. "Let me taste you."

She giggled. "Of course." She sat back and wiggled off of his lap. She had assumed he would let her grind until he needed to get off and she planned to ask him then to help her complete her fantasy. She could not refuse his offer though.

Cesar had his own plans. He had been dreaming of their last meeting. He fantasized about making Demetria come until she was exhausted. He imagined her red-faced and panting, looking at him with placid eyes as he turned her over and pulled her luscious ass against him before grabbing hold and plunging himself eagerly into her wet pussy as she lay tired and moaning on the ground.

That hunger was in his eyes as he pounced forward and tore down her stockings. He grabbed her thighs, opened them, and pushed them back.

His mouth was on her just as fast. She gasped as he pushed his face into her lower lips and kissed deeply. He sucked air into his lungs before opening his mouth and covering her. She exhaled and let the warmth wash over her.

He licked with broad strokes at first, pushing his flattened tongue against her as he moved from bottom to top. Her taste lit up the memories of their last encounter in his mind, and he continued with even greater aplomb.

She was gripping at the blanket when he began to move his head side to side. He covered her vulva in saliva as her leaking juices ran down his chin.

"Oh fuck," she said.

He smiled at that, though she could not see it. He had seen naked and sweaty, gasping and dripping, but he did not expect that she would swear.