The Balance: Finale

Oh Deity!

Angela's mind exploded. For a endless, timeless instant, her mind merged with the Wanton. Every sensation was magnified. The soft linen of the bedclothes, the mattress where she gripped it with her hands, the soft hairs of Abiron's thighs brushing against hers, his warm strong hands stroking her back. And, of course, the exquisite feel of his phallus stroking against her lips, teasing her bud.

Her back arched and her head came up, glorying in the feel of him. She braced herself on her elbows and laughed, laughed with joy, when his hands came around her to cradle her breasts, their bounty near overflowing his palms.

"More," she hissed, and his tempo increased, his manhood burning within her. His fingers were on her nipples, stroking, pulling, pinching oh gods above that's wonderful and the muscles of her cunt clamped down on him. She began to buck back against him, the flesh of her buttocks slapping lewdly against his lean belly.

She could feel Abiron's cock beginning to twitch, precursor to his release.

"Angela. My love. I am going to..."

"Go ahead, darling, but don't you dare stop until I say you can."

"All...all right."

With a mighty effort of will, Abiron attempted to slow his strokes. To prolong their union.

"No! Faster! Give it to me faster! I need it. I need you! Faster!"

Abiron placed his hands on her hips and obeyed his wife. His cock sawed in and out of her cleft. He passed the point of no return. With a groan, he came inside her. But obedient to her desires, wishing with his heart to bring her to a climax as precious and satisfying as his own, he continued to thrust into her.

Oh yes, the Wanton moaned. Can you feel it, my daughter? His seed trickling down your thighs?

"Yes."

This is what I am. The side of every woman that wishes to make her lover empty-eyed with lust. This is the blessing We choose to bestow on you. The fierce protectiveness of the Huntress, the Wisdom of the Crone. Even, if you wish it, the merry laugh of the Lass. And of course, the voice purred, the hunger of the Wanton. Do you accept it?

"Yes!"

She could feel it building, undeniable, monumental. The muscles of her belly rippled. Her cunt spasmed. Her mind reeled in joy and love and desire.

Will you be Ours, my daughter? Ours for all time? No regrets and no sorrow?

"Yes, Yes, Yes! Oh Deity, YES!"

Her orgasm hit her like a thunderstorm, lightning strokes of pleasure. The walls of her womb clamped on Abiron's still-impressive phallus, only a little shrunken by his efforts. Shaking with pleasure, she slowly sank until she was lying flat on the bed, trembling with the aftershocks of her climax. Abiron pressed into her one final time, then lay still, his weight a comfort on her back, his hand idly running up and down her side, pausing occasionally to tickle the curve of hip or breast.

Angela Lyons, daughter of Baron Robert Lyons, silently closed the door on her past and locked it. Levering herself up on one elbow, she gave her husband a long, deep, kiss.

"I am Yours."

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Paul smiled when he and Ariana entered the guest room, empty but for a bed and a bright bit of fire glowing on the hearth. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"What will, Paul?"

"What, besides being married to five other people?" he smiled. "I was just barely able to wrap my head around being married and becoming a father. In the space of an hour I acquired two more wives, two co-husbands, and another child.

"But what I was speaking of was the living arrangements. How are we going to deal with that? It is going to make things a little awkward if you choose Sean or myself to spend the night with you, and Abiron needs to come in the next morning for a change of clothes."

Ariana gave a puff of mingled laughter and frustration. "True enough. The Deity does not often concern Himself with the mundane needs of His followers. I doubt the particulars even crossed His mind.

"But aren't you borrowing trouble, Paul?" She came and embraced him fondly. "There is room and to spare here. I think we can each have our separate rooms. So that when I choose you, or Sean wishes to spend a night with Angela, there will be no need for a third party to be involved. Unless," she said with a evil grin, "you wish for there to be."

"If you are trying to shock me, my wife, you have a long way to go," he murmured into her hair. "Remember who my wife was. Is. My first wife. Diana" Paul sighed, "This is going to involve some changes to the language."

Ariana laughed, "Why worry about it now? We have the rest of our lives to figure it out. The rest of our lives," she said in a lower, softer, tone, "to love each other." Her arms tightened around him.

He tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eyes, willing her to see the depths of his sincereity. "From the first moment I saw you in the salon, I wanted you. Even if I was not entirely sure what that desire meant."

Ariana blinked rapidly. "From the day in the bathing chamber, when I saw you, scarred and beaten and brave, I wanted you. Wanted to ease your pain. Wanted to drag you down onto the floor and rut, shameless as an animal. Wanted to marry you and bear your child.

"Wanted you. All of you."

He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, as if she were a rare bird which would fly away if startled. Slowly, hesitant, he bent his face to hers. Lips parted, eyes shining, she waited for him.

Inches from her face, he paused. Then, whatever internal debate he held within himself was resolved, and he kissed her. Her lips parted immediately, and her eager tongue found his. No fearful man-child anymore, he accepted her invasion with cheerful passion, and explored her mouth in turn. While her hands came up hard around his head to hold him in place and she frantically moaned her pleasure into his mouth, he snaked his around her back to methodically undo the buttons on the back of her dress. In moments the garment gaped wide. He spun her in place and pushed the dress off her shoulders, then carefully, mindful of her regard for it, peeled it down the rest of her body, hands caressing her arms, back, buttocks, and legs.

He skillfully undid the straps on her shoes and eased her out of them. Moving to her front, he ran his palms up her legs, waist, belly, and chest, stopping just short of her breasts, nipples dark and turgid.

He cocked his head to the side. "One golden, one pale, one brown as toast. Do you think the Deity chose brides for the men that would be sure to provide variety?"

Ariana raised her brows, "And what if He did? The Deity knows that men are low, base creatures, subject to the nefarious wiles of women, helpless before their power.

"And what makes you think that you were not chosen for variety as well? Do you know how enticing you are, Paul? The innocent priest-lad who we seduced away from your god, now a mighty lover in our Deity's service? Sean, with his quick wit, his agile mind, and his willingness to die for us? Trust me, if Diana doesn't come out of her room tomorrow looking like a cat that got into the cream, I'll be shocked.

"And then there is my own dear son. So powerfully faithful, and all but unaware of the effect he has on others. He makes people want to be better. And by so doing, they become better. Angela had to run away from him just to find herself. And then she came back to him.

"You are all just as desirable in your way as we are to you. And if you don't stop your blathering and make love to me, I might just wander down the hall and see what the others are up to."

A muffled shout came from Ariana's room next door.

"Perhaps not."

Ariana dropped her hand to Paul's crotch and lightly touched his groin. Happy with the evidence of his regard for her, she rapidly stripped him. In moments they were naked before each other. Holding each other lightly in their arms, they gasped as their bodies touched lightly. Paul trembled as the head of his phallus brushed gently, oh so gently, on Ariana's vulnerable belly. She in turn shivered as her nipples, fat and happy, grazed against Paul's chest.

Cheek to cheek, they reveled in sensation. Paul's hands danced patterns of love and desire up Ariana's back, while her hands in turn clenched on his well-muscled buttocks, driving the heat of his phallus into her stomach, making her weak-kneed with desire.

Paul could stand it no longer. His reserves of patience were exhausted. He firmly bore his wife back towards the bed and laid her lengthwise on it. Looking up, amused, she questioned him.

"What now, my husband?"

"This," he said in reply, and moved his head into the junction of her thighs. Her aroma was intoxicating, sharp and tangy, and when with careful fingers he opened the petals of her flower and stroked her opening with his tongue, he knew he had done well. Her bud swelled under his careful ministrations, moisture gathering in her folds, increasing her delightful smell. Deeper, firmer, slower, his tongue danced within her. Now darting as deeply as it could, now flicking lightly on her bud, and now stroking the petals of her flower.

Ariana watched with bright, cheerful eyes as he made love to her womanhood. That one has been taught well, she thought. Slowly, irresistibly, heat grew within her. Moisture leaked from her folds, trickling down her thighs towards her buttocks, slicking every crevice of her groin. Head still buried in her cunt, Paul's hands rose up and played with her breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh until her mounds were twin volcanoes, ready to erupt at any moment.

She was losing control. Deity, she wanted to lose control! Beyond her conscious desire, her pubis rose and fell, driven by the clenching muscles of her ass, pushing her mons into Paul's face, forcing her aching bud harder into to her mouth, where his enthusiastic tongue sucked and licked until she was aching for release.

With a monumental effort of will, she forced words out from behind her clenched teeth. "Paul, come up here."

Paul did not move. His tongue ran a merry ring around her bud, and she threw her head back with a gasp. Her hand cradled her breast, fingers pulling on the nipple. Her thighs tightened around his head.

"Paul, come up here now."

Still nothing. His head dipped lower, and his tongue wove a torturous path from the bottom to the top of her slit. Her hips bucked frantically, desperate for release.

His ears. He can't hear me because my legs are covering his ears. Giggling hysterically, she reached down, and like that long-ago day in the batching pool, she grabbed one of his ears. Firmly she brought his face, shiny with her secretions, level with hers. His phallus bobbed cheerfully as it drew near her groin.

"You have done well, my love," she said, her voice hoarse in her own ears. "But the time has come." She kissed him, tasting her own nectar on his lips. Her legs spread, displaying herself to his loving eyes. She grasped his cock firmly. With inevitable love, Paul, former monk of the abbey of St Luke, entered the body of the High Priestess of the Deity of Heklos.

The joining was indescribable. Paul felt like he was flying. On braced arms he hovered above her, dipping to kiss her breasts, her lips, her neck. Her hands were everywhere, on his face, his flanks, his hips, tracing unfathomable runes of love on his back as he groaned in lust. He surged within her like the tides, driving both of them higher. Hungry for the silken feel of her skin, he moved from one breast to the other, kissing, fondling, stroking, then knelt up, pushing her thighs up with him, pounding her womanly flesh as she writhed, the proof of her desire coating them both. One of her hands came up and braced herself against the headboard of the bed, her back arching, thrusting her breasts even higher.

Paul could feel his moment arriving. "I love you, Ariana. I love you more than words. I will love you forever." He bent his head and kissed her deeply, as, slower now, his cock filled her, over and over again.

Wise to the ways of young men, Ariana knew his time had come. With the slightest adjustment, Ariana moved so his phallus stroked her sensitized bud at every move. Oh Deity! Thank You. A thousand times, thank You!

"Come for me, Paul," she whispered hotly to him, his face wedged into the crook of her neck. Her tongue licked out one last time and ran itself around the whorls of his ear. "Come for your wife."

With a triumphant shout, Paul emptied himself into her with a flood of seed. Her scream of ecstatic orgasm erupted at the same time, as his release triggered hers. Content and serene in one another's embrace, they traded love and kisses like gifts, until it was time to prove their desire to each other again.

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Here, let us leave them, six lovers. The tale of the defenders of Heklos is done for this time. Perhaps, some day in the future, we will come back to their tale, or that of their children. But for now, let the curtain of night fall on their love.

The End