Harvest Of The Virgin Sacrifice, Filled With Hot Seed (2 page)

She replies in her usual brisk and icy
manner, “I will take you to the virgin’s bed where you shall wait
for your reaping.”

I hurry behind her until we come to a set of
magnificent oak doors, she pulls them open to reveal a room with
large windows. Against the windows is a bed with white silk
hangings and a blanket of fine white fur draped over it. My
mistress sits me on the bed.

“It very important that you hear me and hear
me well, from now until you are brought to the potentate you must
not speak. From now until you are brought to the grey tombs your
cries of pleasure will be the first and last sounds to leave your
mouth.”

My cunt begins once more to ache with longing
when I hear her say this. I am scared, true, but the very idea of
the frenzied carnal ecstasy that awaits me entices me more than I
can possibly bear. I nod my head.

“We will come to you tomorrow to dress you
and then you will be taken to the temple of Xerastes. From there
the vassals will take you to the grey tombs and on the way you may
be tested. You may pass people and things that will seem strange to
you but you must not speak, that is very important, do you
understand me?” I nod trying not to throw back my head and moan
with the lust that is consuming me only thinking about
tomorrow.

“The vassals will seal you into the tomb and
there only you and your kind can know the mysteries that await
you.”

I nod again and my mistress gives me an
appraising look, “I have overseen the training of many of the
Potentate’s gifts but none as lovely as you. Perhaps some better
behaved, but no, none as lovely. He will enjoy you greatly I know
that much.”

With that she leaves me. I do not sleep at
all that night, a tight ball of nerves has grown in my stomach and
it mixes with the lust that invades my every moment. I pace back
and forth between the window and the bed. I gaze down at the palms
gently swaying in a warm breeze that blows through the courtyard
below, I may never see palms again.

After what feels like an eternal night, the
first rays of morning light begin to peak over the horizon. As the
sun emerges my lust and anxiety both begin to grow. I feel suddenly
stiflingly hot and I throw open a window and lean outside to try
and feel some breeze. As I am leaning out the window my gaze moves
over the courtyard.

My old chamber and all the rooms into which I
was allowed, faced inwards towards the center of the circle of
buildings that make up the towers of the reverent, but I realize
now that this room faces out. Out towards a world I have not seen
since I was eight. I look out over the courtyard, trying to take in
every detail while I still can. It is a market square filled with
people going about their daily business. There are some people,
more richly dressed than the others, who mill about beneath my
tower. Some of them wear religious vestments. I know they are
waiting for the news that I have sated the lusts of the potentate.
I probably shouldn’t be leaning out this far, but I reason that I
am too high up for any of them to see me. At the back of the crowd
I notice a young man, he has narrowed his eyes and is peering at
something off in the distance. I wonder what he is looking at. I
rest my face on my palm and study him until I realize with a jolt
that he is looking directly at me. He has seen me. I immediately
retreat to the safety of the room.

This is the first man to see me in eleven
years, some common village boy. My heart begins to pound and I take
deep breaths to calm myself. How could I let this happen? The
potentate should have been the first man to see me, but now I am
despoiled. That sacred and ethereal vision of me has been ruined by
some
boy.
I seethe at his audacity. Eventually though, I
calm down and make a choice to ignore the incident, I will not let
this utterly ordinary boy ruin everything for me, I will tell no
one and soon I will be on my way to the Potentate to be splayed
before him, waiting for him to enter me.

My lust, though momentarily quelled, grows
once more as the sun rises. My priestesses finally come once it is
directly above us. There are five of them and each one carries a
different piece of my sacred vestments. I step out of my black silk
robe and allow them to dress me. First a piece of red silk is
wrapped around my waist and tied just below my entrance, then I am
dressed in a tight black silk robe with a low neck. After that, an
elaborate gold gown of finely embroidered brocade, its skirts
sweeping back in an elegant train. My Priestesses fasten it tightly
in the back with a line of elaborate bronze clasps. Before me they
place a pair of white silk slippers. I step into the slippers and
then finally they cloak me in a heavy velvet mantle of deepest
blue, edged in gold damask and inlaid with pearls.

My dark haired priestess tenderly washes my
hair and then pins it up into an elaborate bun, placing atop it a
delicate crown of white gold inlaid with rubies. I step in front of
the mirror to examine myself and gasp. All my life I have worn
rough grey linens, I have kept my hair tied demurely at the base of
my neck, I have never sought to be beautiful, but today what I see
before me is nothing less then a Goddess. The rich fabrics that
float around me make my pale skin almost glow in the midday
sunlight. My hair, instead of being dirty and uncombed is carefully
shaped into soft golden curls falling lightly out of the bun and
around my face. I look back to my priestesses and I can see their
desire for me, perhaps it is even greater today because they know
that they cannot have me. They can never have me again. Today I
belong only to the potentate and his vassals. I shiver with delight
at the thought of it.

The Silver Palanquin

My priestesses take me down a spiraling stone
stair to an archway framed in golden light. Before we go through
it, Chasa stands before me with tears in her eyes. I reach out and
stroke her face. Though it pains me to leave her I know I will go
on to greater things. By the end of today, I will be with the gods.
Whatever that entails I know that only the greatest mysteries await
me. She lifts the heavy hood of my cloak and pulls it over my head,
just before the hood comes down over my eyes she kisses me softly
on the lips and then I descend into darkness. The hood of the cloak
is large enough to cover my whole head so that I may not be seen on
my way to the potentate. I can see nothing through the dark folds
of fabric, so I let myself be led by my priestesses out into what I
suppose must be the courtyard. I have watched with envy as other
gifts are taken to the temple of Xerastes, so I know what is
happening when I am lifted off the ground and set down on a velvet
cushion.

Last year’s gift was a beautiful dark haired
girl with piercing green eyes. We were close and would often spend
hours together, reading scriptures, painting, studying, enjoying
the comfortable silences of companionship. Sometimes she would talk
to me of how excited she was for her harvest day and about what we
imagined might await us once we entered the grey tombs. She too
looked beautiful on the day of her harvesting. I came to see her in
the virgin’s bed and then watched through the windows as she
stumbled blindly into the courtyard where four men stood, holding
the four carrying poles of a magnificent silver palanquin carved
with scenes from the scriptures.

One of the priestesses gathered up her slim
form and gently set her down within the vehicle. I caught a glimpse
of the velvet-lined interior before the door was shut and the
palanquin was lifted onto the shoulders of the four brawny young
men. They were all naked to the waist and a thrill of desire went
through me as I watched their muscles tighten with the effort of
hoisting the heavy palanquin, their glistening shoulders rippling
in the midday sunlight. That day I cried, as much for her as for
myself, I felt as though the coming year would be intolerable
without her and I envied her for the fervor of passionate
consummation that awaited her.

Once I am inside the palanquin I pull back my
hood and look around. The interior of the vehicle is splendid. I am
sitting on a pile of embroidered cushions and the walls are hung
with velvet draperies. The silver ceiling above me is carved into a
scene. It is the god Xerastes, his own vassals (lesser gods of our
faith) Pytheum and Logastum and the goddess Sabina, she who gives
her body so that we may have life.

Xerastes sits on a bed with Sabina on top of
him lowering herself onto his erect cock, his three faces contorted
into a wild groan of lust. Pytheum and Logastum stand behind them
with pained looks on their faces as they await their turn with her.
As for Sabina the look on her face is one of complete ecstasy. The
carving was clearly made by a master smith, for it is detailed and
finely wrought. The eroticism of the image is obvious, but beneath
it is certain nobility as well. I brush my fingers over the taught
leg muscles of the carved Xerastes and long to slip a finger inside
of myself, but I do not.

Today I will remain untouched, my unquenched
thirst building in me bit by bit until I allow the Potentate to
release it in a gush of ecstasy. The bumpy wavelike motion of the
palanquin isn’t helping though and by the time it is set down I
have become so wet that I imagine the red silk knot tied at my
entrance must be soaked with my lust. I hear the footsteps of the
men as they retreat from the palanquin and I wait until the sound
of them has died off completely before I emerge.

The Temple of Xerastes

I am standing inside the high wall
surrounding the temple of Xerastes. Xerastes is the highest of the
gods. He is a broad shouldered man with three faces, the face of
mercy, the face of wrath and the face of passion. His scepter is
the trunk of a great oak, fashioned at the end into a point that he
throws like a spear. Xerastes comes to earth and is incarnated into
mortal form as the potentate, as his vassals, Pytheum and Logastum,
are incarnated into mortal form as the vassals chosen by the
potentate. Every year a virgin of great beauty is given to them as
a gift so that they may fill her with their seed. The pleasure that
all three will take in this act is of the utmost importance as it
is this which will form the gift’s transcendence. After she has
been entered time and time again by the holy men, after she has
taken them in her mouth and slaked their lusts and she herself has
been brought into the bliss of orgasm many times, then she can be
sent to the grey tombs where she too will be incarnated with the
spirit of the goddess Sabina, a beautiful woman who satisfies
sexual appetites.

The courtyard that I stand in is planted with
every imaginable tree, bush, or flower, most of which are foreign
to me. Their brightness almost hurts my eyes after the dim interior
of the palanquin. A marble path leads down the center of the garden
courtyard to the massive steps of the temple, but before I can
start upon it I must cross a featureless door of grey slate set
into the ground. My steps sound hollowly within it as I cross, this
is the door to the grey tombs, but I barely register its presence.
I am far too focused on the coming of my reaping, the frenzy of
lust that lies before me.

As I walk down the path my heart beats
furiously and my craving grows into a painful ache. I have waited
so long and now finally they will have me. Each footfall is another
moment of delayed pleasure. My desire is so great it hurts. I know
I should be walking slowly and deliberately in order to do justice
to the solemnity of the ritual, but my excitement is such that it’s
all I can do to stop myself from skipping up the steps of the
temple to the archway beneath the marble columns.

I enter through a massive pair of wooden
doors latticed with pointed wrought iron bars and carved with wild
and exotic flowers and great trays of ripe and succulent fruits.
The antechamber of the temple is massive and down the center are
two rows of statues. They are the pantheon of the gods and as I
walk between them, their empty stone eyes gaze down upon me in
judgment. A sudden thrill runs through me as I realize that the
female gods are all enflamed with desire, their swollen nipples
hardened into points, some of them touching themselves, while the
male gods are fully erect, their faces contorted in growls of
passion. I clench my legs together as my pussy grows tight and wet
between them.

At the end of the corridor of statues is a
tunnel built into the far wall of the antechamber. A flaming torch
sits in a sconce beside the tunnel and I take it and carry it with
me through the dark corridor of red stone. My footsteps echo off
the close walls and when I see a light at the end of it my heart is
practically pounding out of my chest. When I emerge all thoughts
leave my head and I drop the torch as the sight before me sends a
conflagration of lust roaring through my body.

The Reaping Room

The potentate sits on a golden throne clothed
only in a garment of fine white linen. His muscular body seems to
shine in the light of the flaming braziers beside him. At either
side of him are his vassals, each of whom wears a black silk robe
like the one that I had been gowned in the night before. Before him
stands a great stone table, the alter upon which my virginity will
be sacrificed to him. In my mind I had always pictured a bed, but
this is so much more right. The idea of the hard stone pressing
into my back as the potentate thrusts himself inside me sends
another gush of wetness to the red knot above my entrance.

I bring my head up and look him directly in
the eye, the look I see there is one of rawest lust. His eyes run
over my body and I feel his gaze like fire as he takes in the
curves of my waist, my breasts, my hips. I can see from here that
his cock is already stiffening under his garment and I move forward
with my eyes fixed on his piercing gaze. As I approach the throne
the two vassals step in front of it. They are both handsome men,
tall with broad chests. Pytheum has a cunning face with a strong
chin and a sharp straight nose. He smiles slyly at me as his eyes
roam over my body. His gaze enflames me and my every breath begins
to catch in my chest. Logastum at his side appears more sensual,
with his full red lips and an unruly head of dark hair. The
Potentate’s voice speaks up from behind his vassals.