The Fruits of WorshipbyLadyTabitha©
She walked down the hidden woodland path carefully, making her way in the darkness to her secret grotto. It wasn't a long trip, only about a 30-minute hike before the branches and brambles abruptly ended, and the clearing spread before her in open invitation. She was especially pleased to find that no one, animal or human, had discovered and disturbed her special space. It was a perfect night for her sojourn here, for the moon was high and full above her, the pearl-like face bright against the starless night, and the air was practically crackling with energy.
Every hair on her body stood upright as she moved towards the center of the clearing, making her feel awake and alive. She found the stone altar in the middle of the clearing, erected by her own hands on a previous visit, and knelt before it. Setting the small bag she carried on the earth beside her, she fished inside and withdrew her tools one by one. The altar cloth came first, the white satin cloth carefully draped over the smooth flat stone table to protect the tools that would follow. A small bowl was placed on the northern section of the altar, then a small incense burner to the eastern end. A red candle, mounted on a brass candleholder, and a packet of matches were placed to the southern edge, and a glass wine goblet to the western end. She laid these out carefully, lovingly.
The last few objects in her bag were wrapped together in a black square of velvet, and she placed the package in her lap before unwrapping it. There, against the midnight-shaded cloth, rested four objects. The ceremonial dagger she withdrew first, laying it on the alter cloth just beside the goblet. There were two statues, one of black onyx in the shape of a well-built man, and one of white marble depicting a beautiful woman. Tonight, she would not need the Goddess statue. No, tonight, her worship would only be for the God, in all his glory and divine right.
She set the black carving in the very center of the altar, and withdrew the fourth object, an elaborate silver flask of wine. Carefully wrapping the marble statue back in its dark casing, she placed it back into the bag, then set the now-empty sack under a nearby tree, out of her clearing. Returning to her altar, she filled the empty bowl to the north with soft soil, and poured the red wine from the flask in the goblet.
When her altar was prepared, she got to her feet. Her dress was simple, a white sundress that buttoned from the breast to the hem. With the white orb as her sole witness, she carefully undid each button on the gown, until the fabric hung open and loose about her shoulders. Beneath the simple garment she was naked, and she carefully shrugged it from her arms and set the gown on top of her carrying bag. Anyone who came across her as she walked back to her worshipping place would have sworn she was a forest nymph. Her hair was black, shining blue in the night's only light, and her skin was nearly as pale as the round orb above her.
Her body was lithe, a dancer's body, her breasts small and firm, her stomach flat, her legs long and her buttocks well muscled. A light breeze rushed through her clearing as she knelt again on the flat earth of the grotto, causing her exposed nipples to pucker with the cold sensation. She closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for a long moment, and then began her ritual.
"I hail to the guards of the Earth, and I welcome you to my altar," she began, her fingers brushing the bowl of earth, feeling and envisioning the energies of mother nature flowing into it and spilling over into the northern half of the altar. Turning her attention to the incense, she lit a match and set the tiny stick to burning, perfuming the air with a delicate scent.
"I hail to the guards of the Air, and I welcome you to my altar," she continued, seeing the smoke as the element she called upon, watching the breeze send the tiny stream of smoke into different designs. She continued the same way, lighting the candle for the blessings of Fire and finally sipping from the goblet for the infusion of Water, thus calling all of the elements to her table. Their energies all around her, infusing her with their power, she turned her final attentions to the black onyx idol in the center of her worship. "I call upon you, great one, Father of all life." Her fingertips caressed the figure of the God, running over the carved muscles, feeling the first small spark of heat within that stone body.
"Tonight, I worship you," she murmured. "Tonight I offer you all that I have, my heart, my mind, my soul, my body. Tonight I am but your servant, calling upon you to receive my tribute." She closed her eyes, closing her palm around the stone man and envisioning the God. The breeze stopped suddenly, the clearing becoming silent in an instant, the rustling breeze falling silent.
Her breathing quickened, but she squelched her excitement, concentrating on the sensations she was receiving, the tiny electric waves engulfing her body as Earth, Air, Fire, and Water poured over her skin, playing around her altar in a circular dance. And then she felt it, like lips pressed against her neck, a flash of hot breath as if a lover had bent his mouth to suckle at her flesh. Her eyes flew open, her fingers falling from the statue as she glanced behind her, but no one was there. Her lashes fluttered shut again, her hands resting on the altar, and she felt the lips return, brushing the soft hairs on her nape gently.
Her breasts were tight and full, their centers taut no longer with cold, but with hungry need as the phantom mouth toyed with her skin. It moved up her neck with slow, damp kisses, like a tongue and teeth nipping at her sensitized skin, and then she felt the brush of a body against her back, a hard chest pressing against her spine, a full and erect member nestled in the soft crease of her buttocks. The ghostly mouth was sampling her earlobe now, nipping and sucking, and she felt an answering twinge low in her belly, her sex starting to flood with the wet evidence of her desire. "Please," she begged, and she felt arms wrapping about her body, coming across her waist and up to cup her tiny globes. Invisible fingers pinched her erect nipples, tugging at them gently, pulling them until she cried out, her moans echoing over the empty clearing.
"Please, my lord," she groaned, her voice coming out husky and broken. She could still feel the sex against the curve of her rear, sliding in a thrusting motion in the valley between each cheek, and her eager folds throbbed in protest. Her inner thighs were drenched in her juices, and her sex was near dripping. "Please, let me see you." A masculine chuckle against her ear sent a shiver over her naked body, and then she felt strong hands lifting her, carrying her. She opened her eyes and saw nothing, yet she was being taken over to the altar.
The elements themselves lent their gifts to her God, for one by one the tools went flying off the altar, landing at the soft soil around the base. The candle sputtered out, the incense choked off, and the wine spilled into the dark ground. The elements dismissed, she was laid to rest on top of the white altar cloth, the satin smooth beneath her back. Her head dangled over the north end of the table, her black hair spilling almost to the ground, and her legs were lifted to wrap around an invisible waist. And then, slowly, a body began to fade into view as it bent over her own, and she beheld with her eyes for the first time the vision of her God.
His hair was an unearthly red, spilling like a scarlet wave over his bare shoulders. Green eyes, the most intense eyes she had ever seen, feasted on the sight of her naked form. His skin was so white that it glowed, a shining blue light that somehow accented the beauty of each limb. He was muscled in the way of a Greek warrior or a Roman athlete, every curve and tendon perfect, cut, defined. He was hairless save for his head and his eyebrows, which made the sheer size of his sex seem more intimidating. It was nearly nine inches in length, but was thicker than she had ever seen or experienced.
He gripped her hips and pulled her higher, leaning in to lie across her body. One hand reached behind her head, gripping a fistful of her hair and pulling her gently up so his mouth could invade hers. As his tongue parted her soft lips, she felt the shaft of his manhood against the soft bed of curls crowning her wet flower, rubbing lightly against the swollen nub of her clitoris with each careful thrust.
She was moaning beneath his mouth, her tongue battling with his, and her hands came up to run over the smooth planes of his chest, his shoulders, and his hips. When he had sampled enough of her mouth, he slid down and teased the swollen crests of her nipples, flicking his tongue over them, giving light bites that made her cry out. As his tongue flicked over her stomach, down the soft curve of her belly, she realized his intent and sobbed aloud. Her cry of surprise was soon drowned out by a loud moan of appreciation, as his fingers parted the nest of hair and she felt the tip of his tongue touch the outer folds of her nether mouth.
"Ohhhh," she cried aloud, her hips lifting as he tortured her. Mouth, tongue, and teeth were invading her pink sex, every caress and lick driving her mindless as her hands wove into his long auburn hair. And then she felt it building, the final spiral, the energy coming together into her swollen nub to an almost painful intensity. He sensed her impending release and focused on the hard kernel, flicking it with his tongue, then drawing lazy circles around it until she slipped over the edge. She went stiff against his mouth, her scream loud and shrill as her juices exploded on his tongue, coating his lower face as her sex convulsed again and again.
Before her orgasm had even ended he was pulling her down from the altar, turning her to face away from him. He pushed roughly on her back, bending her over the soft white cloth so that her round buttocks and the still-quivering folds were exposed for him. She felt the head of his staff pressing against her entrance, and when the swollen knob pressed inside, she couldn't help but moan. She had never been filled so much before, the shaft and head of his sex molding against her inner walls as he worked his way in, and her hands went forward to grab the edges of the altar to steady her for the coming ride. She felt the smooth face of his abdomen press against her backside, and realized he was fully inside her, every inch of that sacred shaft stretching her open.
He wasn't gentle with her this time, seeking his own release, and he reached forward and grabbed the back of her hair, pulling her head up so that her head and shoulders came off the alter and her back was arched. She felt his hands force her thighs open more, and then she was pushed forward with his first thrust, as he withdrew halfway and slammed back home. She let out a soft chain of grunts as he started a rhythm in her, the tips of her breasts barely brushing the satin cloth with each pound and setting them afire with a new need.
Her orgasm had subsided a few moments previous, but to her surprise she felt a new one building as the combination of the blunt head of his sex hitting her back pleasure zone and the way her silken nub was rubbing the edge of the altar took its toll. He let go of her hair and grabbed her hips, pulling the thick shaft all the way from her folds, then sliding back in fully at a more rapid pace. Each thrust made him hit her inner wall harder, each push made her clitoris scrape the satin-covered edge just a little more, and she was pushing back against his rough invasions, seeking her second release with the same passion and fury as he was taking her.
"Take me," she sobbed, "Use me for your pleasures, use my body for your needs." Her cries urged him faster, and she felt the burning come up in her loins again, her nub a ripe fruit about to burst forth. When her second climax hit, it was so strong she nearly fainted; her whole body quivering in time with the way her sex was milking him. The spasms of her were enough, for her godly lover pulled her hips hard, thrusting a few more moments before sealing his member fully inside her.
She felt it when he came, the thick jets of heat filling her pink flower, coating every inch of her folds with its cream. His body shuddered and fell on top of her, his weight a burning heat as his breath came hot against her ear.
Slowly, the heat began to dissipate, and she realized he was disappearing. She cried out, not wanting him to leave, wanting to be enveloped in his amorous embrace for eternity, but already he was gone, his organ the last thing to dematerialize from her depths. She was left naked and quivering, the breeze returning to her clearing and rushing over her damp skin.
When she stood, she could feel the spillover of his seed, leaking from her sex and falling onto the ground. Tears filled her eyes, and she realized she had truly been blessed that night. She had offered of herself for her God, and she had been accepted and taken with relish. And she knew, she knew somehow as she pressed a hand to her stomach, that the true gift had been given to her.
Inside her somewhere, the seed of her God was fertile and warm. Her devotion had been rewarded, and for this night only, she had tasted the pleasures of a Goddess. The memory of it would burn in her for the rest of her life.