tagSci-Fi & FantasyHis Self For Great Mother

His Self For Great Mother


His home was remote by design as he was not the sort to blend in with the village folk and farmers who expected simplicity in life and who reviled the extraordinary. The few who knew of him and sought his aid were forced to undertake a long and arduous journey to his distant retreat.

Four days hard ride north of the farming village Dubrin one's mount would sicken in the altitude and shy in the steepening terrain of shale. Beyond the last patches of sickly trees one would snare a rabbit or fowl and keep the cooked meat in salt for the journey ahead. Across the immense expanse of the barren plateaus one would fervently wish for more water as the sun beat down on the rocks all around. Through the ever-thick layer of cloud wreathing the peak of Sulumayan's home one would stumble in circles, directional senses reduced to drunken delirium.

For those who made it, the journey was well worth it for the man they sought, it was said, could command the four elements with his strange incantations. He could see the future and knew the hearts and minds of all men. He travelled through dreams and could change his form at will. He was an old, wise, and tired druid.

Looking out across the vast land far below his mountain perch Sulumayan frowned, though the movement was hidden beneath the mass of grey hair matting his face. Despite his power to summon food and wine from nothing, to bend the elements to his every whim, there were times when he felt a different rumble deep in his body, gravitating through his frail old frame with the deep pulse of Nature herself. Soon he would have to tend this burgeoning need.

That very night he knelt in his cave and draped his cloak over himself, surrounded by a large wreath of goat and oxhair. He drank from a long curled ram's horn and coughed as the liquid filled his veins. His bones creaked as they thickened, his flesh stretched over newly grown muscles, his hair darkened and his beard fell away to reveal a firm chiseled jaw. He disappeared and the cloak settled quietly to the floor, the candles in the cave guttering with curiousity.

"My Lord." Her sleepy eyes fluttered open as he stood framed in the moonlit window. He savoured the moment, staying still to gather in the sight of her perfect form as she lay on the wide bed covered in silk sheets.

She lay on her side, one slender arm tucked beneath her head, the other draped over the saddle of her narrow waist. The silk sheets faithfully followed the turn and heel of her sculpture, stilling the breath in his lungs. Her hips peaked steeply above her thighs and swept down smoothly to her waist far below, a perfect landscape of fertile mountains and valleys. Her naked breasts surged together, channeled by her arms and spilling out of the top of the sheets like wild rapids tumbling through a rockfall. Long trails of curled hair covered her shoulders, the sheets and the pillows, extending from her body like a tall oak tree's roots.

She lay back for him as he approached, ready.

"It has been so long My Lord," she whispered, her delicate fingers reaching up and trailing fiery courses over the taught muscles of his chest.

Like the king he was pretending to be, he raised himself up over her. The paramount drive of Nature thundered in his blood, deafening his awareness of anything but her. Obedient to the supremeness of his need the glorious creature beneath him opened herself, drawing away the thin intervening sheet and revealing her spread thighs, the dark fur between her legs ready to be tilled, and the flat plain of her youthful belly heaving gently in anticipation of his planting.

He wanted to speak but was afraid his voice would betray his disguise. Instead he kept his thoughts buried, kept his wonder and joy inside, and assured himself that their sharing would still be complete even if he didn't tell her his admiration.

He entered her with the slow movement of rare enjoyment. Closing his eyes he felt her hands stroke up along his forearms and biceps, delight in his strong shoulders and then run encouragingly along his back. Her thighs lifted and her ankles locked behind him, capturing him inside her and increasing the heat and demand between them.

Her moans resonated deep within her, tremors like thunder grumbling across a midsummer sky. He surged against her, driving steadily onto her shores as the great oceans meet endless smooth beaches, merging wet salt and undulating power under pale moonlight.

A sudden, quick gasp and his core collapsed and then exploded, shattering the cohesion of his senses. He felt her body shudder as she tumbled into her own climax.

"My Lord, yes, I love you," she gasped.

Him, he thought, she loves him. Even as he spent himself within her welcoming recesses the void he had created within himself began to fill with self recrimination. His muscles and hair now felt as alien as they truly were. His member wilted with exhaustion and embarrassment as he looked down at the beautiful maiden turning her innocent eyes up to him. He became afraid that her eyes could see into him, past the lies he had draped over himself and see the rickety old perverted man he truly was.

She did not belong to him. She belonged to her king and he had disingenuously stolen her because she would otherwise find him revolting.

"My Lord?" she asked as he rose abruptly, trying to quell his sudden and confusing anger. "Will you not stay?"

He stopped at the window but did not turn for he knew that if he looked at her she would be young and beautiful and innocent. He would be old, ugly, and not human.

He should have done one more thing before he left, a thing that he normally did do but for some reason it escaped his mind this time. He should have turned, looked directly into her eyes and whispered the five word chant that would have bent the delicate fabric of her memory, creating a small fold just before and just after his visit and making it impossible for her to recall him coming to her. Instead he stepped forward to the window and was gone.

The bedchamber door opened and sharp yellow torchlight stabbed into the room, causing the queen to throw her hand over her eyes.

"Who's there?" She demanded, squinting hard into the bright light.

"My Queen, who but me can enter this bedchamber?" The familiar deep bass of her king's voice resonated on the bare stone walls and her heart caught in her chest.

"My Lord - you were just... here... with me?"

The alarm sounded through the castle. Voices shouted, armoured boots clattered down every corridor and into the corridor and across the ramparts. The queen, Ruler of the Temple of Daughters to the Great Mother, had been defiled in the night and retribution was to be won. Drums beat, hard words rang out into the night, and the soldiers of the king marched.

* * * * *

Lying in his cave, Sulumayan did not move that night or the next day. Rain came, pelting his naked flesh, sending powerful shivers through his entire body as the chilly water pooled around him. She would not leave his mind as he relived the few sweaty minutes in the queen's bedchamber. He saw her trusting eyes filled with the beautiful, natural love that he had tainted with his vile ravaging of her body.

He was nothing more than a thief, using cheap disguises to steal the most precious thing a woman could have: her love for her man. But unlike a simple guilt-ridden thief he could not just return the thing he had taken. He had soured her forever.


He started at the sound of his name. It was a distinct voice yet not from a human throat. Weakly, he tried to lift himself up onto his elbows but his shivers were so strong they knocked him back down.

"Sulumayan, of the druids, you will not die like this."

"Oh?" He questioned, "How will I die? And how should I die? This is all I deserve, truly." The chill in his bones made his legs feel heavy as steel. Even his muscles were bound firmly to the numb bone, like a tongue frozen to metal in midwinter.

"A human can die in any manner along with the lions and the ants as part of the chain of life on Earth. You, however, are a child of mine, a carrier of the divine spark and able to wield the tools of creation: earth, wind, fire, and water."

Sulumayan laughed, hearing his bitter cough echo in the cave around him. "If I am so divine, why would I have polluted that poor creature?"

"Because she is beautiful, and half of you is still yet a man, and you are filled with love for everything on this Earth. I have more beauty to show you, my love."

Sulumayan stared around the dark cave, his wide eyes searching desperately. "What? Who are you? Why did you call me your love?"

He wanted one specific answer, his heart thudding anew, yearning for the next words.

"Sulumayan, you are beautiful. I have seen you, felt your magic, and felt your desires. When you use your divine power you are using me. I gave myself to you each time, and now we belong together."

"Who are you?" He croaked into the dark.

"I am your power. I am your love. I am the Great Mother. I have stood by as you coupled with mortal flesh, but I now offer what your soul begs for. A druid makes love only once, for in doing so he gives his self, Sulumayan. It is one complete act of giving that encompasses every ounce of his pleasure into an infinity of bonding with me. Please come to me."

The words were what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear someone desire him and not the disguise he adopted to seduce mortal women. He wanted to belong to someone and end his torturous loneliness. However, his fear of continued pain did not allow him to accept the words.

"I don't believe you," he moaned. "You're a figment of my imagination. You're... A delusion."

The water pooling around him began to bubble. Warmth seeped into his body, caressing him and calming the shivers that had taken him over.

"Feel me, My Love. You are meant for me. Come to me."

Hearing a woman ask him to come to her rather than him having to trick her for the first time in decades was enough to melt his heart.

"Great Mother," he whispered as the warmth enveloped him, "I will come. Tell me what to do."

* * * * *

Sulumayan shuffled through the forest. Her directions, for someone so almighty, were obscure at best. Still, the forest around him was slightly different from others he'd traveled in his many years. There was an underlying energy that almost hummed audibly making him think that if he stopped and concentrated he would hear something distinct, perhaps even a voice.

Every tree was very old, the trunks looming far up above him and disappearing into the ceiling of green leaves rustling in the distant wind. The forest floor was matted with fallen leaves and toppled tree trunks, all decaying into new soil for the enormous trees all about.

Despite the peace and fascinating energy, he knew he wasn't alone in the forest. Men with steel ready in their scabbards and murder in their hearts were in the forest as well, though he could not discern how close they hunted. Their booted feet cracked and crunched belligerently through the aging branches fallen to the forest floor. Animals scurried away in fright and when Sulumayan heard no rooting squirrels or calling birds he knew the soldiers were very, very close.

Also crowding the quiescent forest were the softer feet of women. The queen's tread he knew, but she was followed by more. She had brought her temple followers, he supposed, to exact her retribution for defiling her body.

He cursed to himself. Perhaps it had all been a trap. Perhaps another mage, someone with dark powers from the far east had conjured the voice of the woman in his cave and had told him all he wanted to hear to bring him to the forest and kill him. Now he had come too far, was ensnared too deeply in the trap to turn back. He could only push forward and hope the clearing with the rock pool was near at hand.

Sulumayan found it in the full height of noon. A small clear rock pool was centered in a moss-covered clearing between vast wide trunks of oak trees. Shafts of green-filtered light lit upon patches of moss and stone. The water breathed gently in the stillness, joining a sparkling dance with the sunlight to cheer the entire clearing.

As he dropped his satchel to the ground, the bushes around him parted. On all sides leaves turned away to reveal hard, glinting steel. Breastplates, pikes, swords, shields and colourful banners. Rawhide creaked as bowstrings were brought taught and arrows trained on his head. The hunters had found him.

"Hold!" A deep voice cried. Sulumayan looked toward the voice and saw a man shoulder through the ring of tense soldiers. The man was tall, broad shouldered, and fixing an intense stare upon Sulumayan. The druid recognized him at once, partly because of the gold circlet around his heavy helmet, and partly because he felt as though he was gazing into a mirror. The queen who had writhed on Sulumayan's manhood and milked his seed into her belly belonged to this man, the king.

"Wretched filth of a man," the king snarled, "you have taken my queen and soiled her womb!" With a quick flare of his arm and whirl of his fine cloak, the king drew his sword, baring the sharp steel to the strong sunlight.

Sulumayan brought his staff in front of himself, silently collecting for the blows that would come. He wished his bones were not so frail and so full of pain with every movement.

"My heart breaks, and my remorse poisons me," he acknowledged, "for your charges are true, My King."

The king's face twisted with rage and his bellow echoed off the trees as he charged at Sulumayan. The druid barely sidestepped the attack and twisted to clap his staff against the back of the king's helmet. Before Sulumayan could command his objecting bones and feeble muscles to complete the maneuver the king whirled about and his sword flicked out. Sulumayan screamed and sank to the ground, holding his arm as blood rushed from a long gash across his forearm.

"He is mine! He is mine!" The king raged as he stood over the fallen druid. Sulumayan struggled to collect his senses and stifle the pain enough to allow him to focus on one last spell. He grasped the words firmly in his mind and they tumbled from his shivering lips. The king's polished armour boots stepped before him and he felt the sword raising above him. Sulumayan spoke faster.

"My Lord, stop this."

The two men looked up to see that the situation in the clearing had changed. For every spear, sword, and bow in the clearing there was now a young white-robed woman clinging closely to the armoured soldier. The women nuzzled into the necks of the soldiers, stroked their arms and nibbled on the muscles standing out on their forearms as they gripped their weapons of war. The maidens hiked up their robes and guided the free hands of the soldiers up to the wet, furry warmth of their centres, cooing with encouragement as the fingers responded by exploring their sensitive lips. One-by-one the soldiers dropped their weapons, turning the attention of their strong hands and swelling members to the delicate pleasures of the flesh. Each woman lay down and opened herself to be mounted. Not a single one was refused.

Only one woman remained standing, supremely beautiful as she stepped toward the king and the druid. "You must stop this," she repeated.

"My Queen!" the king gasped. "What is this? How can you ask me to stop after what he has done to you? What are the temple maidens doing here? They must unhand my men at once!"

The queen smiled wryly. "It appears, My King, that your men have their hands all over the daughters of the Great Mother. But I was not speaking to you. I am pleading my Lord Sulumayan to stop his incantation. The powers he would summon would be an end to all of us and this entire forest."

The whimpers and grunts of manhood claiming the entrance of women filled the clearing. All around the king, queen and Sulumayan were men driving their bodies between the upraised welcoming legs of the white-robed maidens. The women ran their slender fingers over their prey, giving encouraging squeezes to the flexing biceps and buttocks that worked to conquer the salivating centres of womanhood.

Sulumayan did hold his incantation on the final word, his entire being thrumming with the pent up power of the spell he would release. He was dizzy from the loss of blood and his exertions. He felt even older than his ancient years. Gently, the queen grasped his arm and helped him to his feet.

"My Lord, you must rest in the pool."

Sulumayan stepped to the edge of the rock pool at a spot where the moss draped over the edge and touched the water itself. Lifting his robes, he sat and rested his feet in the water. He sighed as the cool water soothed his sore feet, and the chill wicked up his body to dispel the heat of the high summer sun.

He lay back, his feet resting in the pool. Dizzyness overwhelmed him.

The water began to lap at his legs, swirling around his calves. The hairs on his legs roused as small tendrils of water explored higher up his legs, igniting his nerves and sending a delightful shiver up his spine. As he looked down he could see the water soaking his robes, and in the rock pool, he saw a beautiful woman's face. She smiled at him, her lips curling in a slow, purposeful curve that sent his heart racing.

Wind ripped at the tree tops far overhead. The men all around Sulumayan grunted away at their prizes, oblivious to the storm gathering around them. The women writhed and cried out as their sexes lathered the pulsing full-blooded members plunging into their slick canals.

Each man twitched as he finally released his seed. The clearing echoed with the cries of men in the throes of their sowing.

The queen knelt worriedly beside Sulumayan, stroking his cheek. "My Lord," she said insistently, "please, My Lord, control the power you have summoned!"

The king stepped toward the rock pool, raising his sword. "Stand aside and I'll end this!"

"No!" The queen shrieked, forestalling the king with an outstretched hand. "He alone must dispel the power, and correctly, but I fear he may die soon, and then we will all be destroyed." She looked beseechingly at the king. "Run! Take your men and go!"

The king grimaced as he stared at Sulumayan lying in the rock pool, blood staining the druids robes and the rocks and beginning to leak into the water. Finally he turned to his men.

"Run!" He bellowed. "Run for your lives!"

The tired men were jerked to life by the fear of their king and they pulled their sopping members free, still pulsing with the last deposits of their juices, hastily grabbed their weapons, and ran.

The queen held Sulumayan up so he could look into the rock pool. The face inside smiled at him and he felt peace wash over him.

He sank a little further into the rock pool, feeling the water rise up to his chest. He distinctly felt a hand in the water, trailing up his thigh and exciting his flesh. His manhood twitched in a way it had not in a long time without the aid of his powers. He heard a voice and recognized the voice that had spoken to him in the cave.

"Do you feel me, Sulumayan?"

He sucked in a breath as the hand worked higher up his thigh. "Yes," he answered. "I feel you touching me."

"Ah, but do you feel me?"

Sulumayan opened his eyes and saw the treetops high above him, waving furiously in the storm raging overhead. It was small at first, just the faintest tingle far away, like the tickle of an insect crawling on his furthest toe. As he stared more at the trees and tried to focus on the tingle it grew, feeling like a breath crossing his leg and making the hairs stand erect atop his goosepimpled flesh. Each gust tearing at the leaves caressed his leg. He gasped.

"I do! I do feel you. It is incredible."

Rain lashed down and Sulumayan felt it all over him, delighting in the cleansing coolness that reminded him of a women's soft gasp on the damp skin of his neck.

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