Talla's Temple Ch. 07

"Really, Talla," the Temple Sister in charge of the dormitory had said. "I think the gods are too powerful and busy to care about a four year old insulting them."

But this wasn't a case of a frustrated four year old. These were three eighteen year olds, sitting in their bedrooms, having removed their tops to compare their upgrades.

Lara and Salee had gone first. Yes, their nipples had clearly darkened. The first upgrade produced a notable difference in the size of their aureolae and the protrusion of the tips of their nipples.

Talla had gone next. Not that she needed to take off her top to astound them. Her cleavage was clearly visible even with the new top that had shown up in the afternoon. Still, the act of baring her breasts to her sisters had inspired awe.

Salee went silent.

"That must hurt," Lara added softly. "I mean, my nipples are crazy sensitive and they've been nothing but rock hard all day. But that -"

"I can't run, if that's what you mean," Talla told her. "But if I move carefully enough and don't, y'know, rub them, then it's not too bad."

"What was it like?" Salee asked. "The upgrade, I mean."

"Bad," Talla said. "I don't remember much from when he came on me to when I woke up in Abundance's Office."

She shivered involuntarily as a fiery memory crossed her body.

"You look pretty good now," Salee observed.

Talla took a breath.

"Yeah. It still hurts, but it's getting better. They said they gave me some medicine while I was sleeping."

Lara reached out a hand and paused just short of Talla's chest. Their eyes met, asking and giving permission. She cupped one of the absurd mounds of flesh and gently squeezed it from underneath.

Talla winced.

"Sorry," Lara said. "It's just so, well, firm, I guess. I wondered how it would feel."

"Maybe it'll change later. My skin feels really stretched out right now."

The conversation paused as they eyed one another's chests. Talla was promised two upgrades in Strength and two in Point once she qualified for them. The Strength upgrades were supposed to help support her breasts and keep them firm.

"And you're going to Serve tonight," Lara added excitedly, breaking the silence. Both she and Salee had opted to wait a day to heal. Talla didn't want to wait any number of days. She wanted to see Zhair'lo as soon as she could.

"Yeah. He's out at some farm," Talla said. "I head out after dinner."

"You have to tell us what it's like," Lara pleaded.

Did she really want to share this with them? Would they understand how she felt about Zhair'lo? Did she even understand how she felt about Zhair'lo? And what did Zhair'lo feel? There'd been some connection, some feeling that passed between them when their eyes had met. There'd been no space for conversation. And after that ... pain for him, then pain for her. They had both walked away, though, eventually. At least they could say that.

"Sure, I guess."

"I hope he's gentle," Salee put in, nodding at her chest.

Talla smiled. Of course he would be. Of that she had no doubt.

Zo'kar was trolling. That was what boys his age called it when they hung around the Temple hoping it was an Initiation night.

Something had changed in him just three nights before. He'd never been outgoing. He'd been outrageously shy in fact. He'd hidden from girls. He'd done everything he could, since that first failed Initiation night so many months ago, to avoid girls.

A shock of humiliation came through his body as he remembered the look of disappointment on the young girl's face as she tried and tried again to arouse him. Too scared. Too surprised. Too timid in general. Nothing she did aroused him. He couldn't remember her name. Had she even told him her name? He'd thought it a failure on his part.

But it wasn't like that with Talla.

Even though she had meant it as a joke, he remembered her words; the words that took the blame off of him. "Maybe she just sucked at handjobs."

Such a silly, juvenile thing to say.

But it resonated. Oh, how it resonated. It had played a melody inside his skull.

Maybe it wasn't his fault after all.

Nervous and giddy, he had let her lead him back to that same room, the same place where he had failed so miserably once before.

But he hadn't failed that second time. She hadn't made him feel bad. She'd needed him and her anxious eagerness had proven contagious.

Then she had turned her back on him. When she couldn't see him -- when he couldn't be seen -- all the pressure had evaporated. He could do it. He could do what other boys could do for other girls.

And he'd done it. In fact, he'd done it so fast, he felt like he'd missed it.

On the one hand, it was enough to get through it without humiliation. He was happy to have cleared the hurdle. That having been said, he wanted to do it again.

Which brought him back to trolling. The problem with trolling was that the Temple never announced when Initiations would be. The wait was more than enough to dissuade most boys. Add to that the fact that the girls being Initiated could apparently come out of any of a number of gates and it made it very difficult to troll effectively.

But Zo'kar was a little more determined than most. For one thing, he'd never been Served. He'd never wanted any girl in his bed after his failure and the Temple had never sent him one. His mind had recently changed on this matter but the Temple, however it catches up on such things, had yet to catch up to this thing.

So he waited. Three nights in a row now, he'd come out after dinner and casually strolled around the Temple. He kept about a block away from the actual walls of the Temple, trying not to be too obvious.

He hoped to see the running girls in long white skirts. He was certain the skirt length was what mattered. When he'd done Talla's Initiation, he'd been stuck a while outside that cylindrical building waiting for an escort out. All of the girls racing in and out had been wearing long white skirts, a mode of dress he could not remember seeing elsewhere in the throngs of women milling about the town.

The last two nights had been failures. As far as he could tell, there had been no Initiations.

"Talla?"

She turned toward the sweet musical voice that had called her name. There was a gentle faced woman with shoulder length, strawberry blond hair looking at her inquisitively.

"Yes?"

In her anxiety she had arrived early for her rendezvous. The only consequence of that was that she'd been waiting nervously in a different location.

"I'm Inga," the woman said kindly. "We're to travel out to Harzen's farm together?"

Talla nodded, not trusting her tongue. Inga smiled.

"It's okay to be nervous your first time."

Talla looked down at her plain white, full length skirt. That told her story in the clearest terms.

Inga's outfit, by contrast, was stunning. She wore a tasseled yellow top and a gold embroidered sash across her chest. The yellow skirt wasn't to regulation either. It was supposed to be grass or stranded cloth down to her knees. Instead, the strips of cloth varied by length from almost nonexistent at her right hip to ankle length down her left side.

Add to that, Inga was clearly beautiful. She'd had at least one upgrade from Form. Talla was jealous, consoling herself with the fact that their breasts seemed about the same size.

Talla mentioned none of this, just took in the other's appearance.

"Let's get going," Inga said. "It's a bit of a walk."

Other women were milling around, meeting up with friends. It was easy to spot which ones were coming out to socialize in the giant hall and which were going to Serve. It was the clothing. In the time she'd spent in Orientation, she'd never seen women on their way out at night. As a child, she'd rarely glimpsed them. Now she could see them in their full splendor.

Forget the staid attire of daily work. Night time clothing was for show. It seemed that the women still had to wear the right colour, but the fabric was cut in more stylish shapes and laid in with embroidery and small jewels. The whites would embroider with silver thread and sometimes blue. The yellows and oranges would use gold or red. Tops which should have been simple bikinis or rectangular stretches of cloth had all sorts of possible shapes. Inga's wasn't the only odd looking grass skirt. Many of them had far less material.

And not a single woman, not even the Initiates in their tiny skirts, wore underwear. She felt a bit embarrassed to be wearing anything under her skirt, but at least no one could see.

"Hey! You there!"

A rush of adrenaline brought a tingle to his skin as he realized that it was a girl calling to him. He turned quickly to face her. There she was -- a slim girl with a long white skirt and a tiny top -- running at him at full tilt.

"Yo," he replied as casually as he could manage.

"You have to come with me," she said. "It's my Initiation."

"Sure."

They started running back to the Temple.

"What's your name?" he called out.

"Eletta."

"I'm Zokar."

He planned to remember all of their names from now on.

"You have been masturbating? The way they told you?"

"Two fingers in," Talla replied, "every night."

"Good," Inga said. "It probably won't hurt too much, then."

"Did it hurt your first time?"

"A little. I recommend that you make sure you're on top. Do you know if it's his first time?"

Talla nodded. "That's what they told me."

"Then you should definitely be on top, at least to start. He might hurt you just from clumsiness."

A Virgin in a long skirt, her hair wet from recent washing, pelted past the two of them at full speed.

"Initiation night," Inga observed with a grin. "Watch your step."

Talla suddenly understood the nostalgic look other women got when they thought of the Rite of Initiation.

"I've already done my butt and my face," Eletta was saying as she undressed.

It was just the way he remembered it: the slim body; the clothing coming off; the anxiety and enthusiasm all wrapped up together in a powerful little package. He wanted to do this every day.

"I'll let you pick," she continued as she knelt as she undid his pants. "It's either my tits or my pussy."

He hadn't thought about that. What had made it possible with Talla was that she turned her back on him. That had given him the confidence to do what he done. Deep breath, then. He had that confidence now. His erection was solid just from thinking about this whole ritual on the way in. He wouldn't be dissuaded.

"Uh, pussy, I guess."

"Sure."

She was flexible. Give her that much. She put a foot on the wall behind him, catching enough friction with her sandal that she could hold the position while she stroked his erection.

"It is a race," Eletta said as sweetly as she could between laboured breaths, "so I need you to come on my pussy as fast as you can."

That wasn't going to be an issue. She was stroking him pretty hard and keeping the tip of his shaft at point blank range to her crotch.

"This is the trickiest part," she said. "I have to make sure some gets inside."

Her right hand continued to piston up and down as he swelled in her grip. Her left hand reached down to spread apart her hairless lips. He could see everything from where he stood. Her lips, her clitoris, even her vagina was open to him. Then, whether by accident or intent he would never know, she brushed the tip of this penis up against her pinkest flesh.

That was when he lost it. A tingle went up his spine at that first contact and he began to release volley after volley of semen, spraying over her lips, in to her little pink vagina, up over her stomach. The reaction was so passionate that he started to feel faint and barely managed to stay standing.

"Gods!" Eletta shrieked in surprise.

Their path took them past the Initiation Temple. Girls were pelting in and out as Talla and Inga carefully circumnavigated the building, passing through a narrow alley that separated it from one of the office buildings.

Talla was listening intently to every piece of advice Inga offered. There was a lot about sex she didn't know; a lot of simple, practical things. She hoped that everyone had someone like Inga as a guide.

"Anyway," Inga was saying, "the thing to watch out for is -"

Then something happened. A wave of dizziness passed over Talla. Her vision tilted madly and then compressed in front of her to a long, dark tunnel. The tunnel pulsed at her, violently ... and again ... and again. The fourth pulse was weaker. Her vision began to return to normal.

Inga was holding her up. She hadn't realized she'd fallen sideways in to the older woman.

"You all right?"

Talla nodded, speechless.

"You felt that, did you?"

"You did, too?" Talla gasped.

Inga smiled. "You're incredibly sensitive. Maybe that's to be expected with that unusual upgrade you got."

Her balance had returned. In fact, she felt pretty good all things considered. She stood up straight and took a couple of experimental steps forward.

"What was it?"

"An orgasm," Inga explained, tilting her head to indicate the building next to them.

"Not like any I've ever had."

She had been masturbating, after all. She hadn't lied. It really was two fingers every night. None of her orgasms had been exciting enough to make her room mates pass out. Maybe she hadn't had any real ones yet.

"Well, not just an orgasm," Inga corrected herself. "It really means someone in there was cheating just a little bit. But we won't tell, will we?"

"They meshed?" Talla asked. She'd been told about meshing. It was supposed to happen when sex started, when genitals made contact. It was one of those things that the teachers left vague, supposedly for the Virgins to discover for themselves.

Inga nodded with a knowing smile. "They touched. Like I said: cheating."

Zhair'lo was bored.

The cook had taken a long time making dinner and then served it in several courses. It wasn't a festival day. There was no need for that kind of nonsense. It felt like it was arranged to keep him from heading in to town. By the time dinner was done, it was past seventh bell. Even if he ran to town, it would take so long to find Plin or Marek, he would just have to turn around and come back. That was assuming that this "not terribly likely" visit of Harzen's was something worth coming back for.

But Harzen had been clear on the 'staying around' thing. Zhair'lo let out a dismissive breath and promised himself that if he didn't get a Summons from the Temple -- or whatever it was Harzen was expecting -- by eighth bell, then he was heading off.

So he strolled around the farm. He'd only been there a couple of nights. There was a lot to see: huge empty corn fields; foul smelling pig pens; dirty stables; sheds full of ox sized ploughs and other farming implements. Yep. Giant bag of excitement, this farm.

It was a warm night, the kind that followed naturally from a hot, dusty day. He made his way over to a well. During the day, they used the horses to haul bucket after bucket up to the cisterns over the various wells. They usually lasted until the evening and kept the farm hands in cool, drinkable water in the meantime. At least it took the a layer of dirty sweat off his body.

Feeling refreshed, he decided to walk out toward the stables.

At eighth bell, he thought, I'm out of here.

Trepidation now. Was she really ready for this? Other girls were waiting a day. Should she have waited? Inga was with her, though. That presence was comforting as she approached the big farmhouse. How many men were living here?

"Ready?" Inga asked as they reached the door.

Talla nodded.

She expected the place to be noisy, with men bustling about, shouting, drinking and doing whatever men did in their spare time. She expected some kind of masculine free for all. So she was pleasantly surprised to see a quiet, clean common room. There were older men there, playing some type of board game with wooden pieces and dice. They took little note of Talla, knowing her to be too young for them. One or two did look to Inga, wondering if she were meant for them.

Inga cleared that up right away, saying, "Nikrit and Zhair'lo."

"Ha!" an exultant voice exclaimed from another room. A frighteningly large block of a man came through a doorway from another room, banging his hip on a table in his jubilant rush.

"Talla," Inga said cordially. "This unshaven brute is Harzen, Master of the Farm."

"Bah! You flatter me, woman."

No one had taught her how to act around older men. Were they like women in the Temple, layered in formal hierarchies? Was a Master like a Mistress? She didn't want to offend anyone -- especially anyone that large.

"Sir," she said with a moderate bow that she hoped was appropriate.

"You're Zhair'lo's girl, then?" Harzen asked. "From last night?"

He seemed like a nice enough man, despite being very loud and very large.

"I suppose so, sir," she said. "Where is he?"

"Outside," Harzen said. "Went for a walk. Wanted to go in to town, he did. I told him to stick around until at least eighth bell."

Zhair'lo might have left? Talla panicked. How close were they to eighth bell?

"I'll go find him, then," she said anxiously. She couldn't come all this way and have him not be here!

She bowed again, minding her manners, and went back out the door.

"Check by the stables!" his voice trailed after her.

He couldn't have left, could he? He was out here, somewhere. Wouldn't someone have told him she was coming? Did Temple women often go out and find the men they were meant to Serve had gone elsewhere? That couldn't be right. How did they arrange it? It seemed wrong. He ought to be here when she came for him!

Stables. What did stables look like? A place for horses. A wooden shed with large doors? That was all she knew about stables. There was a silo, its top shining in the moonlight. There was only a half moon, but it was enough. She just had to relax and let her eyes get adjusted. There? Was that it? She started to run but was quickly reminded of the state of her breasts. The bouncing did them no good and neither did the friction between them and her top.

She settled on a brisk walk. Should she just shout out his name? How dumb would that be, if he weren't here and she were shouting desperately at nothing? What if she'd come all this way and he'd just wandered off somewhere? Oh, how could he! But if he didn't know, it wasn't his fault.

She walked along the dirt tracks made by horse carts toward the one low building she could see. She hoped it was the right one. There was flickering light coming from it. Maybe a small fire or a torch. Someone must be inside. It had to be him.

As quickly as her sore flesh could bear, she strode up to the building. Yes, horses. This was the stable, for certain. There was the torch, mounted on a stone post in the middle of the building where the horses couldn't reach it and cause a disaster. Where was Zhair'lo? She passed through the building, ignoring the sleeping beasts, and came out the other side.

She caught her breath.

Standing beside the well, soaking his head in water running out of a cistern, it was him!

She ran, then, not caring for the pain in her chest. Across the knee high grass she made for him as fast as ever she had run. At about ten paces he must have heard her despite the water pouring over his head. He reached for the spigot on the cistern as he turned to face her. He never quite touched the spigot.

He paused a moment as he saw of the blur of white cloth that blazed toward him. He had less than a second to recognize her before she leapt on him, taking him to the ground.

"Ow!" he shouted, not the least bit aware of the pain. "Talla!"

"Yes?" she asked, grinning ear to ear as she pinned his shoulders and sat straddling him.