The Priest's Virgin Concubine

Megan met his gaze unflinching, despite the disapproving mutter that went up from the crowd. "It is neither, Father Kelly. I am completely serious. As are we all." She swept her eyes around the circle and was rewarded by an answering murmur of agreement. "This is Fertile Valley. And this has been our tradition since the church was founded. Our ancestors, bless them, kept to the old ways. Their hearts and souls were large enough to believe that more than one faith could be true. That Jesus and the Irish and German pantheons did not need to be enemies, but could be friends and allies.

"We are Christians and Catholics. That is our faith. But our roots are deep, bred in the bones of Ireland and Germany and Scandinavia. And we cannot deny Brigid and Freyja and Áine and Éostre their due. Four times a year, we seek their blessings. Éostre at the spring equinox. Áine at Midsummer. Brigid at Beltane. And Freyja at midwinter.

"But the old goddesses are not like Jesus. In return for keeping our land fertile and our town safe, they demand payment. So one girl a season sacrifices her virginity at the rite. A young woman, chaste and pure.

"And enthusiastic," came a whispered remark from the crowd. "Doesn't do no good if the girl doesn't want to get laid."

Megan's eyes flicked to the side, silencing whoever had spoken. "And the parish priest, of course," she added smoothly, "to make the ritual complete."

"Me," he said flatly.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it is a...a fusion," Megan said. The firelight painted her face, doing strange things to her features. One moment, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth made her seem ancient. The next, she looked to be barely out of her teens. "Can't you see, Father? It has to be this way. Pagan and Christian coming together for the good of all."

At some unseen command, the five girls in the inner circle took a few steps forward. They were all in short, white, sheer dresses that left their arms and legs bare. A sudden gust of wind made the flames flicker and their clothing press against the firm young curves of their bodies.

Then as one they took their dresses off. All five were completely nude underneath. Justin's breath choked in his throat as he took in five stunning young ladies. Tall, short, slender, or padded with generous curves, hair ranging from coal-black to brown to Brittany's reddish-gold. They stood silent, waiting. And not one of them looked the least bit frightened or disgusted. Indeed, DeeDee, a bubbly brunette who always seemed to have a smile on her face, was subtly arching her back in order to make her chest seem bigger.

Not that it really needed any help.

Five women, all caught on the cusp of womanhood. And all his.

And to have them, the only price he would have to pay was his integrity and his honor.

"No," he said. He tried to move, but his feet seemed rooted to the ground, as if the earth itself was holding him in its grip.

"Yes," the girls answered in unison.

Justin turned to Megan. He knew he should leave. Should run, should drive back to the church, and get on the phone to the bishop in Peoria to let him know that St. Catherine's was hiding a secret pagan fertility cult. But he couldn't. Not until he had answers.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice high with strain. "Why should I do this? Why should I abandon my vows for you?"

Megan took one step forward. Firelight glinted on her cheekbones and in the hollows of her eyes. "Because of what is at stake."

"Fine." He crossed his arms. "What?"

"A soul."

Justin opened his mouth to fire back a hot retort, then paused. The value of a soul was, quite literally, beyond price. Satan himself had offered all the kingdoms of the earth to Jesus. All he asked in return was that Jesus worship him.

And Big J told him to fuck off.

"All right," he asked warily. "Whose soul?"

"Not whose," Haley said. She had moved so that she was standing near her friend. "Whats."

"What?"

For the first time, Brittany spoke. "We are not here for the soul of one person, Father Justin. But for the soul of the town. Of Fertile Valley and everyone in it."

"That's ridiculous," he said. He glared around at the circle of women -- some naked, most not. "Are you trying to tell me that this is some sort of battle between Heaven and Hell? A war in Heaven for the soul of one small town in Illinois? And the way I get to save Fertile Valley is by...by..."

"By fucking the virgin daughter of one of the townspeople?" Meg finished for him smoothly as he stuttered, unable to complete the sentence. "No. Of course not. We do not try to interpret the will of God here.

"Besides, who says it has to be a war? The ways of evil are not always clear. No one has a bright red light flashing over their head, warning you that they're a bad guy, like in one of those video games.

"But the soul of a town is something that is real, Father. You know it. You have felt it. Here, and other places, too. Haven't you ever driven through a small town, and known, deep down in your heart, that the town itself was dying? Farms sold off, businesses shuttered, the schools consolidated? All the people ground down, beaten up, helpless and hopeless, mired in drugs or abuse, only one step away from utter despair?"

The older woman raised her chin. "We have seen it. And we say no. We will not surrender. We will not yield. We worship God in all his bright glory. And at the same time, we sacrifice the virginity of our daughters on the altar of the old powers, as we did in our own time. The hunters guard our town from the predators who would steal our joy from us.

"And the rewards," she said, righteous passion giving way to her normal good humor, "are more than worth it."

"My vows..." he repeated weakly.

"A vow is a serious thing." Megan shared a look with her daughter. "Everyone here knows this. And we do not ask this of you lightly." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I could be a complete hypocrite and point out that for much of the fist half of the life of the Church, priests could and did get married, no matter what Rome had to say. And that the reason that marriage was banned in the first place was because a bunch of dried-up old farts didn't want women influencing the priesthood. After all. Who is a man going to pay more attention to? The Pope, who is so far away that he might as well be on another planet? Or his wife, who is cooking supper for him right now?"

"And once you had married priests," Haley put in, her dark eyes blazing, "It's only a matter of time until the women want to be priestesses. And God knows we can't have that."

"Sophistry," he muttered to himself. Under the calm gazes of so many women, he could barely think.

"What?" Megan asked.

"Sophistry. Tailoring your argument so that you reach the conclusion you want. Who cares if priests back in the past could marry? We don't live in those days anymore. It hasn't been allowed for a thousand years."

"So what?" Haley demanded. Her long black hair fluttered in the breeze. "A thousand years ago, people thought the sun went around the earth, rather than the other way around. Now we know different. We grow. We change. We become more than we were. Isn't that the way people make progress?"

And then Brittany took a step forward, her eyes blazing in the firelight. "And who's to say that having celibate priests is actually a good idea, instead of some tradition that keeps on going, despite the fact that it's really stupid? How is a priest supposed to understand the problems married people have if he's never been in a relationship? It's like a blind man telling someone how to drive through town. Eventually, there's going to be a car crash."

Justin couldn't concentrate. The fire, the heat, the distracting presence of five naked young women, now only a few feet away, the not-quite-hostile stares of the other women, waiting for him to make a decision...all of it made his head pound and his stomach roil. "You don't know what you're asking me to do. I've always wanted to be a priest. It's what I am."

Brittany lifted her face. Somehow, in that moment, he felt as if she could see his naked soul. "You can be more," she whispered.

"And we're not asking you to stop being a priest, Father Justin. We're asking you to be our priest. For Fertile Valley."

Justin ran a shaking hand over his face. What did you do when you discovered that a dream you never even knew you had could be real? "Can I..." He stopped, then started again. "I need some time to think about this."

Megan nodded. "Sure. We can give you a few minutes. But not much more." She cast a glance up to the sky. The moon was rising in the east, a few days past full. "Not much use trying to perform the rite of Midsummer Eve past midnight."

He turned his back, trying to rein in his galloping thoughts, which were trying to ride in five different directions at once.

Focus, you idiot.

He had two choices. Leave or stay. If he left, well, he might as well kiss St. Catherine's goodbye. Every woman who held any authority in the parish was at the bonfire tonight, giving silent approval for the proceedings. So he really couldn't count on much support if he chose not to participate. He might not be asked, point-blank, to leave the parish. But he doubted he would get much cooperation, either. Even in a best-case scenario, he would be looking at a situation where he and the women of the church barely tolerated each other. And that attitude would soon bleed over to the men and children as well.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

On the other hand, what if he stayed? He would be breaking his vow of chastity. But Megan's words had rung true. There was something different about Fertile Valley. He had noticed it the first time he had seen it. It was as if some benevolent being held it cupped in the palm of a protective hand, keeping it safe from outside forces.

You know what, Justin? You're no better than they are. If you're going to do this, then be honest with yourself.

I am being honest. Yes. I want her. But I want all of it. Not just one night with a woman. But a parish that is happy and content. And if breaking my vow for one means that I can accomplish the other, then that vow can be broken and damned. I might have to answer to God for this. But didn't I swear to make my life a sacrifice? And who am I to say that my life is more important than an entire town?

His heart hammered at his chest, feeling hard enough to crack his ribs. But he turned around, facing the circle of women.

"I'll do it."

*****

It had been almost impossible for Brittany to keep calm through the long, tense standoff between Father Justin and her mother. The priest had been shocked, appalled, quietly furious, and confused in turns, while her mother had somehow faced that outrage with a calm steady presence that she envied.

But Brittany could also sense the excitement and desire that Father Justin was feeling. It was there, underneath, even if he wasn't admitting it to himself. His eyes had flickered over Haley and Brittany and DeeDee and the other two girls. It was as if he was at war with himself -- his body wanting what his mind was trying to deny him. She wished she could talk to him, without everyone else around. She was sure she could make him understand.

As it was, though, she had to stand and wait with everyone else, the firelight warming her skin and her desire heating everything else. She would have thought that she would be embarrassed to stand in front of forty or fifty other women, most of whom had known her since she was in diapers, completely naked. But somehow that didn't really seem important. At least, not as important as fucking Father Kelly was. She could feel the deep, steady pulse of the ground beneath her feet, almost flowing into her, as if she were a battery and the earth itself was making sure she had all the energy she needed. The feeling made her pussy hot and wet. If she looked down, she knew she would see that her lips were puffy and slick with her juice.

God, will he make up his mind? Or maybe I should ask one of the goddesses instead. Father Kelly's back bent. At his sides, his fists clenched in a fury of indecision. Brittany wanted to go to him, to take his hand, and tell him that it was all right. But a single sharp look from her mother rooted her in place.

She closed her eyes, hoping against hope. And then a gasp from Haley made her open them again. Father Justin had turned and was now looking at them. First her. Then Haley.

"I'll do it," he said.

Brittany's heart leapt. "On one condition," Justin added. His face might have been carved from rock. "Do you swear, all of you, by whatever god or goddess you worship tonight. Do you swear that all the girls who participate in this...in this ritual of yours are here willingly?"

Brittany's mouth fell open in silent outrage. To think that her mother, or Haley's mother, would try to force them to take part in a holy rite!

Somehow, Megan Murray stayed calm. "I swear." She titled her head at the priest. "Do you need me to get a bible?"

Father Justin raised his chin. "If your word is good enough for these young ladies, it's good enough for me."

"Good. Now, it's your choice." She stepped away, leaving Justin alone in the firelight.

Brittany bit her lip. It really wouldn't be the end of the world if Father Justin didn't choose her, she told herself. There was Beltane. And Midwinter. And the spring equinox. Eventually, surely she would be chosen.

Even if seeing Justin's gaze fall on Haley made it feel as if her soul was being ripped in two.

And then he turned, just slightly, and suddenly there were only two people in the whole world. He took a step forward, then another, and held out his hand. With a feeling of disbelief, she took it. When their fingers touched, she was filled by an overwhelming sense of rightness. The ground under her quivered, as if the entire valley was a vast bell that had just chimed the hour.

Brittany smiled up at Justin. "Me?"

His smiled back, and she melted. "You." For a second, he chewed his lip, looking adorable. "Where? The church? Or your house?"

She snickered. "No, of course not. There's a place at the bottom of the hill. Just for us, where no one will interfere or snoop around."

Brittany turned to leave, but a flicker of motion caught at the corner of her eye. "One second." She took five quick steps and hugged Haley, who had been watching them with bitter resignation.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be." Her hair stirred at her best friend's reply, and she could feel the restless heat of Haley's desire. It had not been quenched, she knew. Only dammed up. And when it finally broke loose, people better watch out. "I want to know everything. And don't forget your promise."

She giggled, sweat-slickened breasts sliding against Haley's chest. "I won't."

"Good." A hand smacked her rear. "Now go! Haven't you been waiting for this?"

She turned and scampered back to Father Justin, who was watching with a bemused look on his face. As they passed out of the circle of firelight, the women parted, then closed back in behind them. A second hymn began, and the high, clear notes followed them down the hill.

"That's nice," Justin said. His hand hadn't left hers. "Do you know the words?"

"Um..." She looked up at him. "They're kind of...rude."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. When they talk about plowing, they're not talking about farming, that's for sure."

"Oh." Even in the rapidly-fading light, she could see the way his face flushed with embarrassment. Luckily, they were nearing the bottom of the hill and she could see the tent that she and Haley and DeeDee and Morgan and Faith had set up earlier in the evening. Maybe ten feet on a side, it was just high enough for them to be able to stand in without crouching.

She held a flap open for him. "Come on in."

"A tent?" he began, then slowed as he crossed the threshold. The tent was lit by small candles, which gave the scene a gentle, golden light. Not the harsh sunlight of day, or the mysterious shadows of night. But a twilight feel, a place on the border. The sweet scent of crushed grass and clover rose up around them, and the floor was covered with soft blankets and pillows.

"Here, Father Justin." Her heart pounding with excitement, Brittany knelt on the floor. "Let me help you." With trembling fingers she untied his shoes, then slid them off his feet. "And I need to tell you the rules."

"Rules?"

Brittany smiled up at him, so glad that somehow God had conspired for him to be sent here. "Yes." She stood and began to lift up his shirt. "Not many. But a few." She had to bite back a whimper of desire as his chest came into view. Not ridiculously buff, but definitely attractive, with a flat belly and an interestingly masculine trail of hair leading downward from his navel.

"First rule. When you...when you...when you..." Her fingers shook as she undid his belt, and she could not get her stammering tongue to form the words. "You know," she gestured helplessly.

Justin seemed to be fighting back a smile, though the muscles in his stomach jumped when her fingers brushed against him. "When I climax?" he said softly.

She nodded gratefully. "Yeah. You have to do it in me. And not in my mouth, either. Mom was real clear about how that was super important. She told me that if you wanted to know why you should think about the Parable of the Sower."

Justin's brow clouded, then cleared as realization hit. "Oh. I get it. We want to make sure that my...my seed doesn't fall on barren ground?"

"I guess." She tugged his slacks down. Inside his boxers, there was a promising bulge. She pulled off the slacks, and after a moment's consideration, his socks as well.

"So what's the second rule?"

Brittany straightened, resting her palm on Father Justin's crotch. She felt a moment of pure triumph as he began to harden under her touch. The fabric of the priest's boxers tented outward as his cock began to stiffen. "Only that we be good to each other."

And then she lifted her mouth to him, giving herself as an offering, a gift, a virgin whose sacrifice would continue the good fortune of Fertile Valley.

And Justin's plunging mouth, unrestrained at last, met hers halfway, their lips locking as mutual desire broke through their barriers. His mouth was clumsy, his lips almost too hard, and she reached up and took his cheeks in her hands, gentling him as she showed him what she liked. She opened her mouth, just a touch, and let the tip of her tongue slip out to lick at the seal of his lips. Once, twice, and then he opened for her. His breath was sweet, and she groaned as his arms closed around her, pulling her to his chest in a sexy, passionate embrace.

Inch by wonderful inch, his gorgeous manhood hardened, until she could feel its entire length pressing into her stomach. The sensation, wholly new to her, made her knees shake, and she knew she couldn't stay standing for long. Her hands roamed all over his body, learning by touch what she had wanted to know for weeks.

When their lips finally parted, Justin looked faintly stunned, like a young man who had learned that Santa Claus was real after all. "Wow."

Brittany leaned up, brushing his lips with hers teasingly. "How long has it been? Since you've been with a girl?"

A sudden blush made his cheeks go red. "Never."

Her mouth fell open. "What? Never?"

"No."

Brittany floundered. She knew that priests were supposed to be celibate. But she had never imagined that Father Justin was a virgin, too! "Um. Okay!" she said, a trifle desperately.