Talla's Temple Ch. 21byxtorch©
Talla was looking forward to some point in her life when things would become normal. It couldn't be far away, could it? The pain in her chest had disappeared. Neither her oversized breasts nor the Strength upgrade from the previous night were causing her any discomfort. So she was healthy. That had to be a good chunk of normal, didn't it?
She probably wouldn't be doing any more Priming. Whatever Alli'anya might have said about her Mistresses considering her and Tina innocent of pilferage, she doubted she'd be back in that privileged position any time soon.
Add to that Shen's healing. She had damaged him and was pretty sure that what she had done to him was not something that any other girl could have done. That much she had to acknowledge, even if only to herself. Would they punish her, if she told them what she'd done? What would they think of her? She would have to tell them that she'd done something to his mind – overridden his will.
And they would ask her, then, what was it that you made him do?
What could she tell them?
"I was forcing him to punish me," she would say, "because I thought I deserved it."
Would they punish her more? And would being punished make it right?
Or was it sufficient that she would never, ever do anything like that to anyone again?
So maybe she could just try to be normal.
She was just an Initiate with unusually large breasts. She was going to take care of children during the day. She was going to go out five nights a week, have sex with randomly chosen young men and in doing so bring the peace of the Goddess to those men, delivering social order and containment directly through her vagina.
Just like everybody else.
Who was she trying to fool?
She could tell herself that she was the same as the women she passed in the alleyways and courts of Gern, but deep down she knew she was lying.
There was still a hook, buried in her chest. It pulled at her; pulled her toward a farm not so far away. Out there, somewhere, a particular young man was labouring under the sun. He was sweating. He was tense and anxious for reasons she couldn't quite grasp. He was exhausted.
And in spite of everything she knew, in spite of every warning she'd been given concerning the hazards of monogamy, the unorthodoxy of the violation on which her heart was set, she knew that the moment they had a chance, they would run to each other.
There was nothing she could do about it, and no amount of fear or false desire for normalcy could overcome it.
"This is what we've been doing?" Maksa asked blankly – she was still in shock.
Her new Mistress, the Sorceress of Pussy, nodded slowly.
"For over three centuries?" Maksa added.
It wasn't necessary to tell Maksa the entire truth, was it?
"Across every Temple," the Sorceress pointed out.
"Only those of Pussy are ever inducted in to this?"
"Sometimes it is necessary to tell those of Sweetness, Lips and, rarely, a few of Endowment," Pussy said. "They can be sworn to secrecy by the Goddess."
"But never Form."
"But never Form," the Sorceress confirmed. "They would never have it. We can't imagine the consequences. We only induct those whom we have already determined are likely to have a very strong belief in the wisdom of the project. No woman of Form would ever – well – the secret would be out in a day."
Form was all about rules and justice. You couldn't have rules and justice without equality of opportunity. Even now, the idea of using the magic of Goddesses to breed some kind of super women made her heart want to rebel. If such women were being created, what chance did others have by comparison? What would happen if the women of the Temple thought, even for a moment, that they did not have an equal chance at promotion?
That was fundamental to their existence. It was one of the axioms they taught to children. It was supposed to be ability that mattered. Maksa had never understood why that lesson was jammed down their throats so violently. Now she knew the alternative. Now she knew what the Temple had been preaching against with that lesson. But here was Pussy, secretly ignoring it just a little bit.
Maksa understood the necessity. Her new Mistress had explained "The Difficulty" as she called it. Form wouldn't believe it. Not in nine centuries or nine millennia. Not until it was too late. Form would want a meritocracy and let the gods and the principle of fairness decide.
As it was, the women of Form wanted to end the use of parental identification to differentiate women of the same name. They had already successfully pushed to start using creche names. The next step was obvious: stop telling people who their parents were. It would be the grand goal of the ages, the end of nepotism. There could be no genealogical favouritism where parentage was anonymous. Only those of Pussy, with their charts, would know.
Form would have those charts destroyed. Ancient argument, that one. Pussy would toss up the rather frightening danger of inbreeding. But Form had an answer to that, too. If the rules of sexual interaction were followed, it was only necessary to keep pregnancies far enough apart, wasn't it?
One by one, the cloaks in which the conspirators of Pussy had wrapped themselves were being stripped away. Soon they would be entirely unclothed and they could either end their project and dress like everyone else or walk down the streets naked and let everyone see every inch of bare flesh.
But until that day, there was work to be done. There were well born men to be matched with women of high rank. There was – greatest shock among all other surprises – the Goddess's pregnancy to be managed. There were children, progeny of this process, to be shuffled off to other cities -
Gods, Maksa thought. To think she'd been planning to travel to Beshenna. What a waste of time that would have been!
Zhina, she thought derisively and rolled her eyes.
Someday she might meet Zhina. But the actual daughter of Mih'lan would be a curiosity, and that was all, because there was no sense in which she was a sister – half or otherwise – of Talla.
"That's the fastest I've seen anyone learn," Zhair'lo heard someone mutter.
It made him proud. A compliment accidentally overheard always seemed more meaningful.
As it was, he was proud of himself anyway. He was quite good on horseback by now. He had found, as Harzen called it, his "seat".
He even thought he could ride as well as any of the farm hands – not that he'd ever seen any of them ride. They would exercise the horses, letting them run on a track around the farm. Occasionally he would see, in the distance, an unidentifiable rider, but that was the exception.
"Alright, boy," Harzen exclaimed while watching him. "Lead them once around the track and back in to the stable. Keep it to a trot."
Harzen had been letting him lead the stable of horses around the track, making sure they stayed in shape, ever since he'd managed to bring Sunrise back in one piece from his first trip.
"Aye, Master Harzen," he replied crisply and turned the horse about.
He trotted the horse past his boss, who leaned back quite casually against a section of the corral's fence.
"The tits on him," Kurran said to Harzen after Zhair'lo had passed out of earshot. "Fit to be a messenger and not even two weeks."
"Yeah," Harzen answered softly. "That's all the time they gave me anyway."
Harzen frowned at the departing steeds as Kurran came to lean against the same section of fence, but from the outside.
"He's a Seal Breaker, you know," Harzen told Kurran.
"I figgered," Kurran replied, "what with him coming and going every other night."
Harzen wiped sweat off his brow and heaved a weary sigh. Kurran had known Harzen for years and had never once seen the man like this.
"They're sending us another one."
"Another Seal Breaker?"
"Another kid. Same routine."
"Peculiar thing is," Harzen remarked, "the new one will be here a whole month instead of two weeks."
"Two weeks ain't enough?"
"Was enough for Zhair'lo," Harzen grunted. "Not for the new guy. Can't say how they knew Zhair'lo'd be so quick."
No point saying who 'they' was. There was only one 'they'.
"Some got skills," Kurran replied doubtfully.
Harzen shook his head.
"Doesn't wash," Harzen said. "You know it was his birthday the day before he came here?"
"So he said."
"Think about that."
"Rather not," Kurran replied uncomfortably. "Thinking's not my thing, y'see."
"Think anyway," Harzen ordered.
Kurran thought about it. What did Zhair'lo's birthday matter? A boy's eighteenth birthday meant he was an adult in the eyes of the Temple. The cook starting serving him adult food, someone put a blue ribbon in his hair and off he went.
"Thought it was a bit mean," Kurran said, "sending him out here so far from those little girlies in their long skirts."
"Uh-huh," Harzen confirmed.
"Why do they send us these kids?" Harzen asked, beginning to show a mild frustration with Kurran's stubborn ignorance.
"For horseback training."
"Because Seal Breakers need training."
"So they sent us Zhair'lo, on his birthday, because he needed the training of a Seal Breaker."
Kurran's brain halted and, quite contrary to the sweat dotting his brow, he felt a chill of ice shooting through his veins
"I don't wanna think about this," he protested in complete honesty.
How could they know? How could they possibly know that Zhair'lo was a Seal Breaker before he had his blue ribbon? Before he'd been touched by a woman or even shown an interest?
Harzen heard the catch in his friend's throat, knew it for the sound of dawning comprehension.
"Exactly," the Master of the Farm muttered. "Exactly."
"I ain't got no need to meddle with the Temple," Kurran remarked defensively.
"Me neither," Harzen said darkly. "But there it is."
Shen woke slowly, trying to pull some sense from the dreams he'd been having.
He'd been sleeping. A lot.
He remembered Talla. Remembered her very well right up to a point. He could recall putting his bare palm on her cheek, asking permission for that somewhat scandalous act that some of his previous night time visitors enjoyed. She had acquiesced – encouraged him even.
She'd wanted him to strike her with greater force. He hadn't understood why, but he'd done it. But it hadn't been enough. She had demanded more.
That was where his memory went blurry. The mesh had blinded him with its intensity. There had been an uncontrollable burst of ecstasy washing over and through him and finally rushing past him and pushing him to the side.
He'd sat there, at the side, devoid of all desire. A vast, sleepy greyness had encompassed him. He hadn't cared about anything. He couldn't even say how long he'd been there.
Then he'd heard Talla's voice calling to him. She had been calling him back, needing his help, pulling him back inside himself. He'd been needed again and so he'd found strength again. He'd found his will and, eventually, his body.
When he had returned to consciousness, a girl had been straddling him; Serving him ever so gently. When that had ended, he'd gone back to sleep, but it was such a different sleep.
There had been dreams, for one thing, instead of empty greyness.
There had also been people waking him up occasionally to give him water and sweet fruit juices.
This waking was different in that there was sunlight and white curtains. He felt rested, even a bit energetic. He sat up and, having done so too quickly, was hit by a wave of dizziness.
"Easy, now," a woman called to him in a rush of footsteps.
She was by his side immediately, supporting his back.
"No need to be rushing things," she remarked, her voice both casual and reassuringly laden with wisdom. "Just end up throwing up everything we managed to get in to you."
He finally succeeded in getting his eyes open and tried to take stock of his surroundings. The woman that braced him appeared to be a physician of some kind. There were white curtains on either side of his bed but none in front. The arrangement let him see across the aisle to a row of beds opposite, all set with linens in white, just like his bed, but unoccupied.
Hospital, he concluded, and imagined two long rows of beds facing each other.
"What happened to me?" he asked, still a bit dizzy.
"What do you remember?"
He took a deep breath, remembering that Talla had told him to do that.
He was speaking to a doctor and he'd been taught from a very young age to speak to doctors without shame, no matter the subject.
"Sex," he said. "Then it went all grey for a long time. Next thing I was on a bench, having sex with someone else."
"Nothing in between?"
"Just grey. Really boring and grey."
The woman nodded, not providing any more information.
"How do you feel now?"
"Good," he said. "'til I sat up."
"Drink," she said, handing him a cup.
He drank. It was a deliciously sweet fruit juice, possibly the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. They must have done something special to it to get it like that. He took the whole thing down in one shot.
"You're definitely improving," she stated, "but we're going to watch you for the rest of the day. You wouldn't be able to work yet anyway."
"I'm inside the Temple?"
"Yes," she replied. "Now lie back a moment and try to relax. I need to check your pulse."He obeyed and waited patiently while the woman held his wrist.
"Tell me," she said, conversationally, "do you remember the girl you had sex with last night?"
"What do you remember?"
"Um, slim?" he said. "Brown hair."
"Do you remember how the sex was?"
"She was – y'know – really tight," he said, trying to remember that he was talking to a doctor. "She could make her pussy do funny things."
The doctor nodded.
"And the night before. Do you remember that girl?"
"Yeah," Shen said with a smile, his eyes blurring over. "Big breasts. So big I think they were hurting her."
Concern passed over his features. There was something important there, but he couldn't think what it was.
"You seem strong enough," the physician said with a nod. "Just remember that you're recovering. Try to relax as much as you can."
With that, she nodded and stood up. She stepped past the edge of his curtain and turned to disappear from his sight.
Shen couldn't put a finger on how he felt. The juice he drank was sweeter than anything he'd ever drunk. The sunlight shining in to the room was the most brilliant he had ever seen. Even the air he drew in to his lungs was like some magical elixir, energizing his body with every breath.
He was tired, though, too. Tired and suffused with energy all at once. He felt confused and messed up and absolutely perfect.
Rest? He would rest and relax, as he was told. He was comfortable with that instruction. The world was such a precious and delightful place today that he could just lie back and soak in it, as if today were a bath in a cool river.
So he was smiling contentedly when the girl came in. She was cute. Short, dark hair, trimmed to the edges of her jaw; twinkling blue eyes full of eagerness. All that and a nice pair of breasts covered by crossing white sashes.
"Hi," she greeted him. "I'm Orna."
He propped himself up on his elbows.
"Shen," he replied curiously.
She pulled on the curtain at the foot of his bed, cutting them off from the rest of the ward.
"How are you feeling?"
"Um – good?"
He started to sit up.
"No, no," she said hastily, stepping forward with a taste of concern in her eyes. "You're to rest."
"Oka-a-a-ay," he replied.
"You are good to go, though, right?"
"I – uh – what?"
She didn't seem interested in explaining – at least not with words. Instead, she slid her sashes off her shoulders.
Shen, still propped up on his elbows, found himself staring at the girl's rather significant breasts. A nice handful each, tipped with the cutest pair of dark nipples. She must be a bit older than he was. Ignoring Talla, he'd rarely seen a girl with breasts this large.
"Let's see what we've got to work with," she said before she pulled his bed sheet down.
He was naked. That wasn't a surprise, this being a hospital and all. Orna looked at his member and smiled.
"Good," she said with relief. "Sometimes I work a whole shift here and don't get even one chance all day long. It's so annoying."
"Yeah, I guess it would be," he was forced to agree.
She leaned over his crotch, viewing him from so close her eyes probably couldn't focus. He wasn't completely erect yet and couldn't be expected to be. All she'd done was bare her breasts and stare at him. She gently blew air under his testicles, tickling at the short hairs there. He shivered in response and let out a soft, "Ah."
She looked up at him coyly and licked her lips. Then she began planting soft kisses on his shaft, working her way up to the tip in the tiniest of steps. When she got there, he found himself completely hard.
"Lie back," she instructed him gently. "You're supposed to rest."
That had to be the most bizarre thing anyone had ever told him to do. He obeyed, though, and robbed himself of the sight of her ministrations. If rest was so important, why would they send someone to -
"Oh!" he breathed.
She had taken about half of his penis into her mouth in one swift, wet gulp.
"Be careful," he whispered, a historical panic striking him.
She pulled off his penis.
"Why?" she asked in confusion.
"I – uh -"
Yes, why? The moment she'd start sucking on him, he'd remembered the numerous failures he'd had with women, from the Priming Room all the way to his night with Talla.
But he didn't feel that now. He breathed deeply, taking in the air that still seemed so delicious and perfect. He was aroused, but not beyond his control. He felt steady, rock solid in more ways than one.
"I used to have this problem," he muttered while looking at the ceiling in wonder. He felt no shame in admitting it to her. "But I guess it's okay now."
He felt her shrug and then her mouth was on him again, forcing him in and out.
Rock hard, heavily aroused, exulting in the best oral treatment he'd ever received, and he wasn't fighting a desperate urge to ejaculate. It was the best sex he'd ever had, and they hadn't even meshed yet.
She slid her mouth off him. He craned his head to look down his body, wondering what she would do next. She was on her hands and knees, crouched over his lower body, and she lowered her chest so that his wet and erect manhood was between her delicately hung breasts. Gently and ever so focused on her task, she started swaying from side to side, swinging her soft orbs of flesh so they bounced against the sides of his penis.
He let his head fall back, overwhelmed by visual stimulation. She continued to tease him with her cleavage, shifting back and forth, letting her cool flesh bump against the hot, saliva coated rod that now stood well away from his body.
"That should do it," she said.
She crawled up the bed until her breasts were over his face. She let one nipple down in to his mouth and rubbed her bare and smooth slit against his erection.
Shen felt a tingle that he took for the mesh approaching. He knew that feeling, that strange humming in his mind and up his spine. But it had never been so strong. It had never vibrated his body so violently. He felt her hips shift, felt her body aligning itself to his.
A moment passed and wetness began enveloping him.
So perfect. So much more steady and vibrant and alive than it had ever been. It was as if he'd been blind his entire life and could see sunlight for the first time.