Salomé and the Seven Veils

I hated the way my stepfather had started to look at me. That was the way he looked at my mother. That he was also my uncle did not make matters any better.

I blamed it all on my grandfather, Herod the Great. To call him paranoid would have been an understatement. He trusted no one. He was the Ethnarch of Judea, and like all of us, under Roman control ultimately. But he was a shrewd politician and had manoeuvred himself into a position where he had a good deal of local control - but he was constantly on the lookout for trouble.

My father was his son, Herod II (an imaginative lot my family), who was executed on his father's orders (yes, that's right, Herod the Great - do keep up). That left my mother an orphan at the age of seven. Herod the Great arranged her marriage to my father. The expectation had been that he would become king, but just before Herod the Great died he was dropped as heir. The next blow he had to suffer was my mother dropping him.

To call my mother ambitious would be a second understatement.

She was the most beautiful woman anyone had ever seen, and although not in her league, I have inherited my share of her attractiveness. I am not as tall as her, but at five foot five, with shapely legs and a tight bottom, and with and nice, firm breasts, I get my share of suitors - which is where my stepfather/uncle comes in.

The throne went to (yes you guessed it) another Herod, Herod Antipas, who was my father's half-brother. The moment that happened my mother, recalling that Antipas had opposed her marriage to Herod II, suggested to him that now my grandfather was out of the way, they could consummate their love.

That was what she told me, and the world. In fact she had been sleeping with him for ages. My mother is many things, but chaste is not one of them. She likes sex and uses it to make men do what she wants.

Antipas was something of a control-freak, like his father, but my mother knew how to wrap him round her little finger. I never met a man - save for one - who could resist her.

Judea specialises in mad prophets and strange offshoots of the Temple religion of Judaism. One of these got across my mother.

Marrying your husband's half-brother was against Jewish law. But the Herod clan was above such things, and no one dared complain - except this one man, a very strange prophet called John.

My mother was furious, and the one thing you do not want is to make her furious.

I was just eighteen at the time, and got a note from her to go to her room. She was angrier than I had ever seen her.

"What is wrong Mama?"

"Your stepfather will not execute that John the Baptist man, says that calling me a whore is not against the Law!"

"But Mama, you are usually so good at getting him to do as you want?"

She smiled and leaned forward, exposing her cleavage.

"These girls usually do the trick darling, you ought to practice instead of making sheep's eyes at that maid of yours."

I had not realised that Mama had noticed.

While men, including my stepfather, looked at me with lust, I could not return that feeling, unlike Mama.

"You do realise you are going to have to marry well. We have several suitors in mind."

"But Mama, I don't want to get married."

"You will do as you are told girl, understand me?"

I hated to make her angry, it never paid, so I appeased her.

"Of course, Mama. I will do what you say, as always."

"That's my good girl. Not that there is anything wrong with women pleasing each other, there is just no future in it."

"Really, Mama, you mean you have...?"

"Oh you silly goose, do you think I care? I like sex, the more of it the better." She laughed. "I think I have had most of the men in the Herod family, but none of the women. I might change that though."

I wracked my brains to imagine who Mama was thinking about, it was not as though any of my aunts were her sort - that is sexy.

"You damned stepfather is at it again with one of his whores, and men will be men, but it means I will be frustrated tonight - again."

"Can you not...?"

"No, silly girl. Men can screw who they want, but if we do, we are sluts and get divorced. I have worked too hard to get where I am to endanger that."

"So what will you do Mama?"

She smirked.

"You mean WHO will I do?"

I felt myself blush.

"Yes Mama."

"Apart from making sheep's eyes at young Miriam, have you ever done anything with her?"

"I have kissed her Mama, but that is all. I know I have to remain a virgin till you marry me off."

She smiled benignly.

"You are a good girl for Mama, always have been."

"Thank you, Mama."

I loved to please her; it did make my life SO much easier.

"You asked who I had in mind as a bedmate?"

"It's okay Mama, I do not need to know."

"As it is you, you do, darling."

As she stunned me with those words, she lay back on her couch, spread her skirts open and bade me kneel and kiss her pussy.

I was poleaxed.

Looking at her as she lay back there, her big breasts heaving, her full lips wet as she licked them, I could see her pussy was also wet. What should I do?

"Kneel and kiss me there, darling, I will guide you."

Well, there was nothing for it.

I knelt and gingerly kissed her pussy. Her lips were meaty and full, unlike mine, and her inner lips were pendulous and long, again unlike mine which were small and slim.

"Now, stick that tongue in there darling and lick upwards and please Mama."

Well, needs must, and to be honest, my own pussy was getting moist. Mama's body was perfection, at least to me.

As I applied my tongue to a woman for the first time, I slithered my stiff tongue along her slit, tasting her delicious nectar; I shivered with delight. I had often tasted myself, but never another woman. The hell with men, that was the moment I knew I was a woman's woman.

Reaching the tip of her pussy, I licked around her bud, which was bigger than mine, and already out of her hood. Oh this felt so good, I thought, as I applied my lips to suck it.

Mama gripped my head and pushed me into her, smearing my face with her juices.

My own hand slipped between my thighs; I was soaking wet. Pressing the heel of the palm of my hand against my own bud, I rubbed myself furiously, sucking Mama harder. Her hand gripped my head, pressing in hard into her.

"Oh yes, yes my darling girl, so good, that's right, bite me there, do it!"

I did, and she tensed and screamed.

Had I hurt her?

Then she tensed again and screamed louder as she squirted into my face. I felt myself lose it and came too.

As we both calmed down, she looked at me, pulled me up and kissed me, tasting herself.

"I do taste nice, don't I?"

"Delicious, Mama."

"You came too, good girl. You will learn."

"Learn what Mama?"

"Men just want to shoot their seed into your womb, and once they have, they roll off, but if you want an orgasm, it's your fingers or another girl."

Was this, I wondered, that "talk" that mothers were supposed to have with their daughters?

That was the first of many times across the next year. Mama said I was a quick study and the best pussy licker ever. That rather pleased me.

It was in expectation of more fun that I went to Mama's chamber a few nights before my stepfather's birthday.

"The bastard STILL will not have the Baptist executed. I have tried everything, but he's a coward and does not want to upset the religious nutcases."

"I am sorry Mama. What will you do?"

"You are going to do it."

My stomach turned. Our family specialised in incest; was I going to have to sleep with my stepfather. Mama looked at me.

"No, if you were thinking what I think you were thinking, you are not one of his whores. But you do dance well darling."

"Thank you, Mama."

"I want you to do the fertility dance as his present at his party."

"Mama!" I exclaimed.

The fertility dance was part of the goddess worship Mama was involved with. In order to please the goddess and get a good harvest, one of us would do a dance involving seven veils. It would end with the dancer naked and on her knees with a fake phallus in her pussy, symbolising fertility. She expected me to do that, in public!

"You are not going to annoy me by trying to say no, are you?"

"No Mama."

"Good girl. If you please your stepfather on his birthday, you know that being the fool he is he will offer you anything you want."

That, I had to agree, was a great plus.

"What a good idea Mama."

"Well, when he does, come to me and I will tell you what to ask for."

Over the next two days I practised the dance. I got Miriam, my maid, to watch and comment. By the end of the second day, the poor girl hardly knew where to put herself.

"But your highness, can you really do that in public?"

"Well it is not as though it is really public, just the Ethnarch and his close friends."

"But your highness, they will see everything you have."

"Only briefly and at the end."

There was no gainsaying Mama.

The next day was full of activity at the royal palace, no expense had been spared.

From behind the scenes at the party, I could see my stepfather and his guests assemble and begin to enjoy themselves. I felt for the maidservants, whom they treated with great disrespect. Mama was watching it all, caressing him and flattering his extensive vanity. At the appropriate moment, she asked for silence.

"Friends, we are all gathered her to celebrate the birthday of my darling husband, the true king of the Jews. As you all know, he is a man who had everything, and so the problem of what to get him for his birthday was not an easy one to solve."

I saw him glance at her, a puzzled look on his face.

"But, with the help of my darling daughter, we have the perfect answer. In honour of her stepfather's birthday and achievements, Salomé will perform the dance of the seven veils for him."

I saw his piggy eyes light up and the smile which engulfed Mama's face. The other men looked as though they could not believe their ears. Then the music started.

Swaying my hips sensuously, I danced onto the platform, teasing them with the first veil which hid my face, in the manner of the women in the desert tribes. Covered from head to toe, all they could see was my eyes, as I moved the veil downwards with great deliberation, pulling it up before slowly unwrapping it and then casting it toward the men.

The cheering and clapping almost drowned out the music. Mama was smiling broadly.

My hair was tied back in a second veil which also spread across my shoulders, and turning, moving my hips in what I hoped was a seductive manner, I gradually shifted the scarf, first revealing my bare shoulders, and then, with a dramatic pull, I let my waist-length hair down, to wild cheers and applause as I shook my head and smiled sweetly at my stepfather.

Taking a deep breath, I moved to the third veil, which was tied at my waist and fell in folds to my ankles. Untying it, and slowly revealing my lower legs and feet, I pulled it against my bottom, accentuating my curves, and then threw that, too, into the audience.

The men seemed transfixed. It felt strange, but somehow empowering to have all their eyes on me; even the cheering had become less raucous. It was as though they were all holding their breath.

It was time for the fourth veil, which covered my upper body below the shoulders. As I slid it down, I bend forwards, knowing I would be giving them a good view of my breasts, which were still tethered by another veil. I shook myself, and the cheers grew louder again.

My stepfather's eyes were standing out as though on stalks. Mama was smiling.

With a dramatic move, I pulled the veil off, revealing my bare midriff, and threw that veil after its sisters.

Turning and swaying, I let them get a view of my back, as I untied the fifth veil, which was round my waist and to my knees. As I lowered it sensuously, they could see the next veil, which covered my bottom and privates, and as I gave them a wiggle and turned, I could see that one or two of them looked as though they might be having a heart attack.

You have to understand that under Jewish Law women were expected to be covered over most of their body, and for a royal princess to appear thus was without precedent, and for a virgin to be on view anywhere outside the slave market was equally unprecedented.

Now, taking a deep breath, I went for the next, and hardest stage thus far, the sixth veil, which covered my breasts.

Turning again and accentuating the curve of my hips, I slowly untied the veil, feeling my breasts fall free, still invisible to the lecherous audience.

As practised in front of Miriam, I slide the veil away, revealing my perky B cup breasts, the nipples hardened by the excitement I was feeling.

There was an audible gasp as I bend forward and swayed them. Silence suddenly engulfed the room.

The heat and the excitement in my pussy made the final step easier than it had been in practice.

Facing away from the audience, I undid the knot on the veil which hid my private parts, lowering it to reveal the whole of my shapely backside, before, with a practised moved, turning, and lowering it to reveal my neatly trimmed pussy.

For a moment I thought my stepfather was about to have a stroke. Even Mama was open mouthed.

Then, in the piece de la resistance, I took the ceremonial phallus used in the pagan ceremonies, and slowly began to squat, shaking my breasts, until it penetrated me. As it did so, the candles were blow out and the curtain dropped.

I felt on the verge of an orgasm. Miriam dashed out to cover me with a robe and take away the phallus. To my delight, she gave it a quick suck before disappearing to raise the curtain. The candles were relit.

I curtsied to my stepfather, who was beaming. He stood up, with some difficulty I thought, but his robes hid any embarrassment.

"Salomé, what can I say? That you love me enough to do this for me is beyond any dream I could have."

(Really, I found myself thinking, so what were you doing looking at me when you thought I could not see you?)

"My dear, ask for what you like, and I shall give it you, even unto half my kingdom."

Now, I thought, that was more like it.

"My father, thank you, let me ask Mama for advice."

I went to her and kissed her.

"Ask for the head of the Baptist on a platter!"

I reeled. What? What the devil? I wanted diamonds, I wanted nice outfits, I wanted wealth and power, what did I have to do with the Baptist's head? But the look on Mama's face was sufficient.

"Father, your generosity is legendary, but fear not, it is not wealth for which I ask."

(Did I see the old fox looking relieved?)

"Ask, my daughter and it is yours."

"I want the head of John the Baptist on a platter."

There was a gasp, and he went pale. My mother resembled the wolf which had caught her prey. I could see a moment's hesitation, but how could he refuse without looking like an idiot? I suddenly saw the brilliance of Mama's plan, and reminded myself why I always did as she told me; the price of not doing so was not one I ever wished to pay.

"Do it guards!" He ordered.

As we waited, he pulled me to him.

"You are so beautiful; I am glad I am not your real father. You must let me reward you soon. Fear not, I know this is your mother's doing."

"Thank you, father," I said, knowing that that night I would be sharing his bed.

Moments later the guards reappeared with their grisly trophy. I felt like vomiting. They gave it to my Mama, who simply smiled.

"Thus perish all who insult Herodias," was all she said, sending a shiver down many a spine.

"You did well, darling, you may go." And then she whispered, "and I will let the old goat have me tonight, you go to her."

I knew what she meant.

To a final round of cheering, I curtsied and left the room. Miriam was waiting for me.

"Your highness, you must be tired."

"Miriam, did you like my taste?"

Blushing, she admitted that she had done.

"In that case, you may have it from the source once we are in my chamber."

Once there, I took the robe off and lay naked, legs apart, on my couch.

"Oh, Mistress," she gasped, an action I imitated as I felt her lips and tongue on my aching and swollen pussy. As though reading my mind, Miriam pushed the phallus into me, as I felt my lips part to receive it, I felt as though my bud was tingling, almost burning. As Miriam sucked on it, I groaned. She slid in and out of me until the tension rose to a height where I had to orgasm - and orgasm I did - and how.

I did, somehow, manage to avoid sleeping with my stepfather, I think Mama preferred to keep me away from him, which given his penchant for divorce and incest, was probably a wise move on her part.

Now, on the eve of my wedding, I think back to that night. If I had not done what I did, would the Baptist have survived? But then I know that if I had not obeyed my mother, I would not have. Sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do. Survival is all.