Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 19

"Look at her down there," she whispered. "She's enjoying herself so much. Don't come yet, though."

Zhair'lo knew that much, though every single Primer he'd ever run into felt the need to taunt him with the reminder.

Lila switched ears, breathing heavily.

"At least give me a chance," she chided. "I've heard of you, you know?"

"Have you?" he breathed back, gasping as V'shika took him rather deeply into her mouth.

"Uh-huh," Lila simpered. "In the morning, I'm going to tell all my friends that I sucked you ... that I tasted a bit of you, dripping off the tip."

There was no sense of the word 'inexperience', Zhair'lo realized, that could attach itself to Lila. He pegged her now as one of those Admirer types, like that one who had come by the farm the night after Talla. What was her name? Natta? Was that it? Those ones made him distinctly uncomfortable, as if the fact his penis or his semen could do this magic trick somehow made him a better person.

'That's only how I was born,' he would try to tell them. 'It's got nothing to do with who I am.'

That line of argumentation had long proven pointless. He merely endured them, which wasn't hard considering that their devotion extended very well into Serving him in beds and showers wherever he might be.

Lila proved no different in that respect. She gave his ear lobe a last bite, whispered something unintelligible into his ear, and swapped places with V'shika.

This attitude, pervasive as it was, would never go to his head. The Temple had put him through far too many horrific things for him to ever develop an inflated ego, no matter how important his cock seemed to be. The only real difficulty, when he got right down to it, came in not abusing the power these women were surrendering to him.

There was Lila, who could probably make herself come right now with the tiniest bit of stimulation simply because she was so excited about inhaling his manhood. Girls like that would let him do anything. If he wanted some girl to take a load of his semen in her face, she would do it. He could spank Sweetness girls as hard as the Form girls liked it, if that sort of thing didn't almost cause his heart to seize up. He tried not to think about how far that could go, but he had to wonder if a girl like V'shika was really into the conspiracy because she wanted to be, or because Zhair'lo was and that was good enough.

He gasped as Lila plunged him far too deep into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. After a brief gag, she pulled him out.

"It's okay," she said, a tear in her eye, and quickly went back to work.

"Don't hurt yourself," he offered. "There's no need -"

But V'Shika was whispering in his ear.

"I've met your friend," she pitched her voice so low only he could hear.

"Ah?"

"We think we know how to stop it."

"Stop what?"

"The Ascension," she hissed. "The Synergist is the weak spot."

It was no place for laying out seditious plans, no matter how thoroughly entranced Lila seemed to be with her duty, but V'shika seemed unconcerned. Zhair'lo was relieved when the knock came at the door. Recognizing the pattern as the two minute warning, he wasn't surprised when the girls started to dress him in the brown fur robes he would wear for his brief walk through to the altars.

The robes weren't quite fashionable, but the women who had made it understood enough male anatomy to make sure there was good air flow and a reasonable amount of comfort for a man walking with a rock solid erection.

Lila, doing her part, went back down on her knees and stuck her head under the skirt-like lower part of the garment, ensuring to the best of her ability that his rigidity remained.

The last knock came at the door and the naked girls skittered out of the way just a moment before the door opened.

Zhair'lo had already known that their plan involved preventing the Ascension of the next Goddess, whenever that might be scheduled. Last time he'd checked, they hadn't quite figured out how to interfere with the process. As they had decided to avoid committing murder, for reasons of both practicality and squeamishness in equal parts, they had been stymied for some time.

But Synergist? What did he know of that?

Glancing around from one altar to the other, he could see neither of the chalices. There were two of them, weren't there? Or did they pass a single chalice around from altar to altar in the darkness around him? It wasn't something he had ever had time to think about. The stuff showed up; a woman spread it somewhere on her flesh; a man did his bit. It wasn't overly complicated.

He closed in on the left altar. As the Officer sitting there handed him the chalice, he started to wonder: where did the stuff come from? Was there a way to disrupt the flow of it? Steal it? There was an echo in his mind, a taste of an experience from Talla, of a moment of horrific panic and a brutal body search.

The message was clear: the Temple protected its supply of Synergist with a jealous and violent fervour.

The Officer quietly dipped her fingers in the Chalice and spread it deeply between her Lips.

At least, he thought, there would be no chance of accidental penetration on this one.

The chalice was out of sight already and there was little chance that he would be able to keep track of it while also occupied with the delicate operation of Seizing to the Discipline of Lips. With half his clothing whisked away, he was able to line up his erection with the syrup-coated and splayed lips of the woman in front of him.

She had carefully brushed her pubic hair aside and opened herself for him, so there was nought to touch but the innermost lips and her engorged clitoris. A light sigh of contentment came from her, and he saw through her thin orange blouse that her chest heaved with satisfaction. The blouse? He hadn't even noticed its transparency.

'Nice pair,' he thought, 'but not as big as Talla's, no matter what else you might have.'

He tried not to let his condescension show through. Any facial expression he might have made was likely lost in the wave of nausea that overtook him as the head of his shaft stroked up and down the length of the woman's bared lips.

With a deep breath, he held himself together until that moment, only a few heartbeats later, when his body Seized.

There. Clarity of thought was available once more.

"Good," she soothed, the first word she'd spoken. "Take a little bit more from me, just to be on the safe side. This is her third try, you know."

They didn't usually tell him things like that, at least not in the heat of the Upgrade.

"Poor girl," he tried not to let his derision show.

"I'm sure you'll take care of it," she replied, a bit of wary sarcasm in her tone.

Only a moment passed before the Officer, with a look of clinical detachment on her face, waved him off.

"You're good, now," she advised.

'I'm more than good,' he thought, 'I can see in the dark.'

He scanned his surroundings as he turned across the assembly of Temple women, all turned out in their finest garb. Where was the Synergist? There was no one behind the Source's altar save a lone guard with a spear in her hand. Behind the target, however, there was quite a crowd hiding in the darkness.

Attendants stood out, first of all, in their simple white skirts and tops. They waited with towels and clothing in their arms, all bundled up for the clean up and mass exit at the end of the ritual. Behind them, hidden more deeply in the darkness, were the leathered enforcers. Oh, sure, the armour they wore was the fanciest, most ceremonial kind: the sort that left mid-riff and entirely too much thigh vulnerable. Nevertheless, they were there and it was clear they guarded the chalice of Synergist, which was held by the one in the centre of their little group against the wall.

When he approached the smaller altar, the chalice was handed from guard to Attendant and then to the target where she lay.

Zhair'lo had, quite rudely, entirely forgotten about her.

She looked very helpless to him, taking into account not just the desperate look on her face but the machinations going on all around her of which she was probably completely unaware.

"It'll be okay," he whispered, taking the chalice from her hands. "I promise."

'A leaf on the wind, this one,' he thought.

She was thin to the point of waifishness, making him wonder if they were giving her enough to eat. The bones of her hips, bare as they were to him for the sake of his ritual, seemed to protrude a bit too much. Her dark brown eyes seemed almost hollow. Her hair seemed to have gone even more dull than any unupgraded woman he had ever seen.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Her voice was the faintest whisper he had ever heard.

"Deirdra."

The chalice went back into her hands and she placed it behind her on the altar. Very quietly, the attendant whisked it away and it was swiftly moved back into the hands of the enforcers. That told him everything he needed to know about the possibility of interrupting the Ascension of a Goddess. If this was the way they guarded a normal, every day portion of Synergist, Talla and her band of girls would have no chance against the kind of fortress they'd build around the magical syrup when it was bound for the future ruler of an entire Temple.

"Alright, Deirdra. Let's get this done. You ready?"

Her hands, frail though they were, took to his manhood very eagerly. He could see all of her strength was going into the effort, both to cup his testicles and to stroke the length of his shaft. It was a strange feeling though, for her touch was so light and fast that she scarcely seemed to be present. He found himself hoping that a draft of wind wouldn't blow through the place and knock her over.

For all of that, however, there was no contesting the powerful arousing force of the magic inside his genitals, nor the effort that V'shika and Lila had put into Priming him.

"Close," he warned. "Open up."

Deirdra nodded, taking the hand that was under his testicles and using it to spread her syrup-laden lips to him.

"This will work?" she whispered.

"Every time," he answered with a grunt.

"Go ahead."

So faint, that voice.

'Let my strength flow into you, then,' he thought at her. 'Take what you can from me.'

The tingling built up at the top of his spine. He knew exactly how much to fight it before thrusting his hips forward. He placed the head of his erection but a finger width from Deirdre's bare and open mound. Finally, with everything set as he liked it, he let his semen tear out of him.

There was a wet splatter as the first jet hit Deirdra's clitoris, embedding itself in the syrup. She stroked it deeply into herself, almost as if she was masturbating for his viewing pleasure. If he had mistaken her light touch for apathy, that error was cleared up now, for the eagerness with which she continued to jerk on him only increased even as she rubbed his semen into her flesh.

It was nothing to him, under her attention, to decorate her entire triangle with his ejaculate, even as she continued to mix Synergist with semen in a milky pool all over her mound.

Spent, Zhair'lo waved her off and waited.

Deirdra's gaunt face showed a level of weariness that went far beyond anything that could accumulate in a single night, even if he was to account for a whole day of anxious loss of appetite.

"Hot," she whispered.

He smiled.

"Told you it would work."

"Yes, you did," she nodded. Then added, with a touch of surprise, "Really hot."

"It'll be okay," he assured her.

The torches were being lit and towels were being handed around. It occurred to Zhair'lo, belatedly, to look for the women with the chalice. He figured that they must have already walked around behind the other altar, well out of his field of vision. It took a bit of willpower, but he managed not to crane his neck for them.

Instead, he turned his body toward those in the audience, still mostly shrouded in darkness and pretended to be occupied with wiping himself off. The pretence allowed him to look down at his body and glance quickly to the side.

There they were, huddled in a little group just on the edge of his waning, magical eyesight's ability to make them out.

So: one chalice; well guarded.

Good luck with that, Talla.