Talla's Temple Ch. 22

It wasn't going to be easy to follow his clandestine meeting with Talla by doing an upgrade this evening. He'd been unnerved feeling her anxiety and panic, but all he could do at the time was to try calming her down. Fortunately her panic had abated and since then he'd tried to focus on his work.

Heading into town, passing by the unseen path that led to their secret meeting place, he began to hear her whispering inside his head.

"Coming to the Temple?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Gonna come on somebody?"

He could almost see the way she was giggling at him. The link between them was clear for that brief moment before fading away to its normal background level. Zhair'lo kept walking, knowing that the closer they came to each other, the stronger it would get.

She continued murmuring inside his head, probing his memories with questions. It was voluntary this time, unlike the random dump of information they had received from each other while meshed. Talla mostly wanted to know about Natta, Nadine and Anzha. What had they done for him? What could she do for him? What did he do?

It occupied his mind the whole trip in. They couldn't -- quite -- talk to each other. But she could ask him for details and he could provide them.

After all of that, he stood once again outside Endowment's small gate, waiting for a guard to come fetch him.

"Zhai!" someone called out.

He turned to the voice.

"Zo'kar," he said. "Howzit goin'?"

"Fuckin' great," the other boy replied. "Nothing but upgrades and pussy. Well, some roof repair. You?"

"Horses," Zhair'lo shrugged. "Pretty much the same otherwise."

"Horses?" Zo'kar asked. "You too?"

"What?"

"They're sending me out to some farm for a month," Zo'kar explained with a frown. "Piss off, really. Farther from the long skirts at night."

"You're doing upgrades every other night and Virgins in between," Zhair'lo pointed out. "When have you got time for long skirts?"

"Never know," Zo'kar said. "I can fit one in after an upgrade if the timing's right."

That brought a smirk from Zhair'lo.

"You two," a female voice commanded their attention. "Scrolls?"

They twitched to face the woman at the gate.

"Mistress," they chimed as they handed over their Summonses.

The guard, Zhair'lo recalled from Talla's imported memories, was from the Division of Form. Out of respect for the heat, she was wearing the lightest version of armour available: a brown, leather outfit that protected only her chest, belly and just enough of her legs to cover her crotch. Zhair'lo didn't suppose it was likely that anyone was going to attack her, but it seemed scant protection if someone actually did.

After examining the scrolls, the guard waved them in.

"Follow me," she ordered sternly.

-----------===================-------------

The Queen of Endowment looked down possessively at the altars. She had seen thousands of upgrades in her time, from Virgins to Goddesses. Men had sprayed their magically charged seed upon her own body exactly ninety three times. And yet, somehow, the act never became boring. There would always be that element of raw sexuality accompanying the beat of the drums and serenity of the ceremony; a man desperate to reach climax and a woman desperate to take him there.

She let a faint smile cross her face, her blue eyes twinkling in the darkness where no one could see her.

Here was Zhair'lo, the magnificent young man who had earned so much fame recently. She knew him well by now. This was, what, his fifth time back? They were using him as often as they could to clear their backlog of Virgins before they had to release him to the other Divisions.

For now, young man, she thought, you are mine and I shall clasp you to my ample bosom.

Too bad, really, that he was so young. At eighteen, he was just past half her age, which put him nowhere near old enough to find himself stumbling in to her bed. There were rules, after all, and the Temple wasn't gentle with those who tampered with the young.

There he was, thrusting that ever so powerful tool of his through the breasts of one of Abundance's Officers, a woman named Pril. The Queen didn't imagine that it was a coincidence that Pril, who was in charge of the scheduling of upgrades, had managed to schedule herself in to this particular position relative to the young Breaker of Seals. Perhaps the Queen could have herself written in to the role as well. It was the only way for a woman over the age of twenty to catch a piece of the lad.

Pril's hand, up inside Zhair'lo's shirt, gently pushed him away. There was a whispered exchange and a nod from the woman. The boy, with a wealth of experience well beyond his age, knew what was what. He shifted his weight off her body and withdrew his manhood from the ample cleavage in which it had been ensconced so he could began his short walk across the chamber.

There was no comparison between source and destination. Pril had gorgeous breasts. Even now, as she propped herself up on her elbows and lay two of her fingers against the side of her altar, those heavy, glistening orbs drifted only slightly to the sides of her chest and hung there like sweet, juicy melons. Torchlight, flickering as it always did, could do wonderful things with wet, Synergist covered flesh. The Virgin opposite was like every other long skirted girl who came in to this chamber: skinny; pale and thin. And jealous. One must never forget the jealousy. Always looking to her superiors and wishing to emulate them. Always looking for promotion and improvement.

The drum beat shifted once more. The Queen took in a breath. This was the moment for which all the anticipation had built.

A whispered exchange as Zhair'lo mounted her. The kids always thought they were being subtle, but they never were. The chalice was passed and the skinny girl was spreading the thick syrup across her chest. Back it went and soon that giant erection was being stroked.

Endowment pushed her legs together, flexing her thighs so the muscles created inward pressure. Oh, what it would be to have that boy in her bed! She could almost feel his power, even from her throne so many steps above him. She lamented that she wasn't scheduled to Serve tonight. She would have to see to herself regardless ... though it would be so much later in the evening.

She watched him intently, wanting to savour the moment, to record indelibly in her memory the sight of his first ejaculation for a future fantasy.

Ah, look at him swell! The things I could show you, boy. The things I could do to that penis of yours if I could take it inside me; things those little girls could never do.

The image of a man holding back to the last second, that tension that ran through his face, the tightening of every muscle in his body, was so familiar to the Queen. Here it comes ...

Ah!

A string of semen spat out of him on to the pale flesh of the waiting girl, drawing a thick line up her cleavage.

Enjoy it, girl! It's your first time. Youth is so wasted on the young like you with your daintiness.

The second volley of semen was quite unexpectedly weaker. The Queen had seen Zhair'lo in action already and knew him to be better than that.

It would be enough, probably, to break the Seal of the Virgin whose chest was now being massaged with the gooey mix of come and Synergist. That wasn't the concern.

Why would a boy his age -- and well known strength -- have such a difficulty? Dehydration from the heat? Overuse? She made a mental note even as she watched the Virgin milk the last drops from his manhood. It wouldn't do to abuse his talents and wear him out. What good could be, then?

-----------===================-------------

Not enough, was all that Talla could think.

Alvin's penis was as deep inside her as it could go. She'd shove him on the bed with what she figured was more ferocity than he was generally used to. He hadn't objected, though, and he'd been ready.

There was nothing wrong with his erection, his appearance, his attitude or anything else about him. He was about as long as any she'd had in her short sexual career. She felt as wide open as she'd even been, impaled there on the end of his manhood.

She pushed down on her hips, inviting him to thrust up into her. He read, at least, her need for force and obligingly jammed himself up in to her. That was almost enough. She shifted her hips around, trying to get more depth out of him. He started rotating, too, stretching her insides as his rod poked at various angles.

Internally, she sighed. Only a few hours ago, it was Zhair'lo who had so dramatically penetrated her. It was his erection and the mesh between the two of them that had ruined her for this encounter. Nothing could compare to what he had done to her. She had to resign herself to that and take from Alvin -- and do for Alvin -- what she could. That was her job, after all, to Serve the men and, through them, the Temple.

So she would do that duty. She would stroke that cock, receive however much semen in to her belly that it could offer, and do it again and again until the man she'd been assigned was done with her body and she was done with his. In that time, she would take the pleasure offered by that crude mesh. Maybe the second time she could try it bent over, like she'd done with Shen. That might at least get a little more depth of penetration.

But it wouldn't be the same.

Not ever.

-----------===================-------------

Maksa had picked out her nicest skirt for the occasion. The rule for yellow skirts, in day to day work terms, was that they had to be made out of either dried grass or layered strips of yellow cloth. In practice even the women who liked the traditional grass look would have a layer of cloth underneath. But even then the fabric underneath had to be strips, not solid. And if you wanted to keep your genitals out of contact with whatever you were sitting on, you had to wear underwear, not depend on some skirt hidden beneath the strips of grass.

There were few times when a woman of the yellow ranks could violate such rules. The most common occasion was Service. So long as she did nothing that insinuated a higher rank, the rules on skirt lengths and fashions were waived in favour of personal preference and enjoyment. If Form sold it at a bazaar, one could assume it was legal to wear.

Another occasion, rarer but quite a bit more critical, was that of the Rite of Upgrade.

It was for that purpose that Maksa had worn her very finest clothing this evening. She stood before her Queen and her new Mistress, the Sorceress of Pussy, in a sparkling yellow skirt that tightly hugged her thighs. The 'waistband' of said skirt would have barely covered her pubic hair, if she'd had any left to cover. They had taken that from her when she'd accepted the transfer. It felt odd, being smooth down there after so many years of having the simple curled hairs that had adorned her genitals.

No matter. It would all come back -- and much more nicely. It would take her three of these upgrades to get from where she was all the way to the five upgrades that an Adept should have.

So here she stood, in the centre of Sweetness' Augmentation Chamber, waiting for her new Mistress to step down from her throne. What a gorgeous outfit she was wearing. The skirt was layer after transparent layer of some fine fabric that an Adept could never afford. Pieces of smooth jade were stitched into the outermost layer of fabric, matching with the character of her her top. A Sorceress of Sweetness would never have the ridiculous breasts they sported in Endowment, but this one still had enough to considerably fill out her emerald encrusted top. Abdominal muscles like steel and never, ever forget the long, glistening black hair that spilled off her shoulders in curls.

"Welcome," the woman in green said when she came close enough.

"Thank you," Maksa whispered back, wishing she could afford even a circlet that could match the silver crown about her superior's head.

The Sorceress of Pussy unhitched her layered, ankle length skirt and handed it to an attendant. Maksa couldn't help but glance down. Such, soft, rich, luxurious hair. She could only wish, at this point, to achieve such heights.

Once her Mistress was out of the way, it was Maksa's turn to bare herself to those assembled. The difference, of course, was that she would have to do it facing everyone.

She stripped off her skirt, exposing her genitals to the cool night air. The attendant respectfully folded her skirt and laid in on top of the fabulous green one.

Well, here I am, she thought, bald as any long skirted Virgin.

She took small solace in the fact that her chest was covered with a loose and shimmering yellow affair she'd bought to celebrate her promotion to Keeper. They weren't letting her wear her Adept's sash yet, which was fine. The one Pussy had given her was so plain it would have looked out of place with this outfit.

One last bow to the thrones before she climbed up on the receiving altar.

Torches were snuffed. Drums began beating. The call went out for the Conduit. Everything went according to the Protocol, level and perfect.

In came the man in question. It wasn't anyone she recognized, but she'd had sex with something like a thousand different men in her years of serving the Temple. It's not like anyone could expect her to remember any of them.

Seizing, in the Disciplines of Sweetness, was known to be a much more delicate matter than in any other place in the Temple. Maksa, for herself, had only done one upgrade outside of this Chamber, and that was in Point -- itself quite a delicate matter.

In Sweetness, however, all three Disciplines were connected to very closely situated parts of the body. A small slip up on the part of the Source or the Conduit and the whole thing would have to be called off. The engineers who had designed the altars had been cognizant of this and had done their best to make it easy for everyone involved.

The Sorceress of Pussy, therefore, sat at the apex of a 'v' with her feet firmly planted on its arms. Spread thusly, she was fully available for the man who stood between her legs. The altar itself was fixed at a height that made angles and points of contact easily attainable for the very tallest man that could be expected to enter such a chamber. For any other man there were interchangeable wooden blocks upon which he could stand to get his erection correctly positioned. It was the job of the Officer handling the upgrades to make sure that a reasonably correct block was in place for each Conduit.

And now, the transfer.

From her position behind the tall semi-naked man, Maksa watched as the Sorceress twisted her body a bit to the right and bowed out her left leg. This let the Conduit get easier access to the fine, soft hair covering her genitals without coming in to contact with her lips.

Careful as it was, it was nothing compared to trying to Seize for Within. Trying to penetrate a woman, even partially, without touching any part of her exterior genitals would never be an easy task.

So she watched as the man's muscled thighs gently rocked his body back and forth, presumably rubbing his erection against the genitals of the Sorceress between whose legs he stood. She watched his body waver, Hunting for a Discipline. And then -- click -- you could almost hear it. The muscles twitched, the body froze for a moment and when movement returned she could tell that the dizziness had passed in favour of a new, confident steadiness. He had Seized.

Pussy had seen it, obviously. She clamped her legs around his back and pulled him in. It was more efficient to surround a man with her genitals this way and embed his erection in her soft pubic hair.

The two of them went thrusting away at each other for quite a while. Was the Sorceress having trouble pumping her magic in to the man? That shouldn't be a problem at this level -- no, they were done.

Her legs unlocked around his back and released him. He gave a polite bow to her before he turned to face Maksa, his Synergist covered erection poking through the folds of the kilt he wore. Behind him, her legs still splayed wide and her matted hair dripping with clear syrup, the Sorceress looked over his shoulder.

I'd probably keep my legs spread too, Maksa thought. Wait until I can wipe myself off.

Maksa smiled at the man. He was handsome enough with his dark hair and deep-set eyes. He was muscular, like most men, and had a nice smile which was unsurprising for a man in his situation - hard as a rock and with a clear target so unashamedly displayed. Maksa's altar was a mirror of the Sorceress's and her feet were already mounted on the arms of the 'v', as welcoming as she could possibly be.

The Conduit stepped up on the block on the floor and accepted the chalice from her hands. She dipped her fingers in and smothered her triangle with the refreshing coolness of the syrup inside it. It had been a while since she'd felt the magical fluid insinuating itself between her lips. A bit of nostalgia touched her heart as she took the chalice back and began stroking the engorged rod before her.

"Good and ready?" she asked.

He leaned over a bit and made a quiet, grunting sound. "Oh, yeah," he whispered.

Over his head, Maksa caught the eye of the Sorceress of Pussy, still sitting on her altar in magnificent, spread-eagled beauty. One of the Sorceress's hands slid down to her syrupy genitals. Once there, she extended two fingers over her matted pubic hair.

Maksa didn't miss a beat in her penis-stroking rhythm, even as she acknowledged this gift. It would speed things along, wouldn't it? Given her situation, she had all the in-Division upgrades she'd be allowed once she got her Pussy up to the fifth level. The upgrades she already had in Lips and Within would fill up her allotment for an Adept. After that, the only upgrades she could get would be the out-Division ones. She had her eye, quite literally, on a Facial upgrade and maybe one from Endowment if she could manage it. But none of that could happen until she got her Pussy upgrades done and since the rule was to separate upgrades by a month, Maksa could have three months of waiting. If this worked; if she could jump directly from two to four as the Sorceress's fingers implied, it would cut a month off the time before somebody would be ejaculating on her face or breasts.

Tits, the ambitious woman thought darkly. I want bigger tits.

First things first, and the first thing was definitely the penis in her hand. The block they put on the second altar was always a bit higher than the first. It let the receiver of the magic get a better grip on things and made sure that the ejaculation was at a good angle.

"Whenever you're ready," she whispered.

"Now's good," he grunted back.

"Come, then," she commanded, as sultry as she could manage.

She sped up her jerking as he swelled to the point of bursting in her hand. Looking down, she saw that the enlarged head of his penis was turning that particular shade of purple that indicated the imminent arrival of semen.

His hips locked as his body tensed at the point of no return. Maksa made sure he was pointed at the highest point in the cleft where her lips separated. Not a drop of him would go to waste if she could help it. Her Sorceress had given her a special gift by attempting to pump two upgrades in to this man and it would be a kind of sacrilege to squander such generosity.

"Ah!" he exhaled and semen shot forth on to her shorn and syrup laden genitals.

Her left hand continued stroking while her right massaged his juice in to her body. She didn't care where it went, knowing as every woman did that a Seized man carried only the Discipline to which he had Seized. She could freely rub the liquid mixture over her bare skin, between her lips and even towards her vagina. Its warming glow could be felt everywhere it went; even tingling a little inside her. Tingling a lot, actually.