Talla's Temple Ch. 13

"Three months," he murmured in her ear. "All alone. Fingering yourself."

She knew her own body. That was certain. Her orgasm couldn't be far off.

Breathing raggedly, she put in, "Not always alone."

"What?"

"Other – sealed virgins," she explained, still rubbing herself.

Zhair'lo's eyes widened. Now there was an image ...

"What about the other virgins?" he whispered.

"We – sometimes – mmm ..."

"Sometimes what?" he asked eagerly.

"Each other," she murmured, thrusting her hips upward. "Help – each oth -"

Her sentence broke off as a shriek escaped from her lungs. Her body froze in an arch, fingers in to the knuckles, before she collapsed on his bed.

That was something, wasn't it? Zhair'lo thought. How many girls were in that room? Four of them? Taking it in turns to do to each other what he'd just seen Nadine do for herself.

Yeah. He tried to imagine a way to sneak in to the Temple so he could see that. He determined that he wasn't a good very good fantasist. Mostly he saw himself getting stabbed by angry women with spears.

Nadine rolled over on her side to face him. Her eyes were narrow and fiery, each one like the little slit that let the blacksmith check on the state of his forge. The image of that barely contained furnace was so vivid that he feared for her to open her eyes any wider, lest flames pour out and singe him.

"They tell us not to do that, y'know," she said.

"Do what?"

"Please each other," she said, her anger a living thing calling to him from her recent past. "They won't let us have men and they won't let us have each other."

He gulped, sensing the raw ferociousness of her emotions. Absent a few minor scoldings in his younger days, he couldn't remember encountering an angry woman. What was there for her to angry about? It was just the way things were. How could someone be angry at that?

"But I got away," she said. "You got me away."

He nodded, still awestruck by the strength of her emotions.

Nadine slid down the length of his body, letting her feet to the floor. For a moment, he thought she might do for him what the Primers had done; what Natta had done. The thought alone aroused him considerably, but not quite enough. Nadine, however, had other plans. She twisted her body in a gentle arc and brought one small breast to hover over his testicles. She lowered herself until her nipple just tickled at the bare fuzz of hair on his scrotum.

The tingling forced a sigh of pleasure from his lips.

She gently pushed her body up, gliding the tip of her nipple up from the base of his shaft to the very tip. Shocked by her emotion, overwhelmed by her touch, he closed his eyes and let out another shuddering sigh.

Twisting and curving her body, she brought her other breast to his testicles and slid that nipple from base to tip.

Paralyzed with the advent of this new technique, he watched as her body – hips and shoulders, head and chest – rotated and gyrated to tease him with one nipple and then the other, over and over again until he was so painfully erect that a tiny bit of fluid leaked from his erection.

She smiled, first at the outcome of her efforts, then up at him, flashing those long eyelashes at him once more. Then she lowered her head just a little and pressed her lips to the tip of his penis. He twitched. Such a soft gesture and yet, if he hadn't already come twice, he might have ejaculated all over both of them right then.

"I've been imagining doing that for a while," she volunteered with a quirky smile.

Nadine climbed back on the bed – and on to him. She rubbed his penis against her lips, moving her entrance toward his tip. Just before penetration, she paused a moment and looked desperately in to his eyes.

"There are ten more," she said.

"Ten more?"

"Girls," she clarified starkly. "There are ten more like me – like I was. None of them were there as long, but they're just like me."

She pinned his shoulders to the bed. Where was this going?

"You have to get them out," she said. "You're the first one to come along who can."

"I – uh – okay."

"Believe me," she said. "It's the worst feeling, being on the inside and still being left out."

Nadine, it was clear, felt very strongly about this.

"I'll do my best," he promised her, "whenever they call on me."

She was helping her friends, the only way she could. He could understand that, even poised at the threshold to ecstasy.

"Good," she replied. "They're people too."

Then she forced herself down on him with the same vicious certainty that he'd seen burning in her eyes. That thrust, taking him in to her body as fast as she could, was a kind of punctuation to the promise he had given, as if she were signing his oath for him in something more sacred than mere blood.

Gods help me, he thought as he drowned in the mesh. This time he caught not just her sexual desire and her long-suffering loneliness but her anger, her sorrow and her desperate plea for her disadvantaged sisters. It came like the rush of a thunderstorm's wind; a gale as overwhelming as the glare in her eyes.

Those emotions were real, damn it, and even as she pushed down harder and harder to get the deepest possible penetration, he felt her pent up rage at her predicament unfolding like some kind of starved flower coming in to long denied sunlight. It wasn't all that pretty, that poor flower, but maybe the sunlight could heal it.

Maybe he was that sunlight.

Maybe in letting her Serve him, in letting the shadowed flower out, he was healing her.

He hoped so, because he couldn't think of anything else he could do.

Once again, sorry for the delay. I was probably over thinking this one a bit, but I hope Nadine comes through clearly. I'm already busy at work at the next one.

Enjoy!