The Handmaiden Who Offered Her Pleasure to the Goddess

Naelys woke on the planet Vorell after a journey that had torn her away from millions of kilometers from everything she knew. She was nothing more than a young woman brought from a distant world to serve in the temple of the goddess Issaria, and even half asleep she could feel the weight of that fate on her shoulders. The handmaidens, as they were called, came from the farthest corners of the universe, and in exchange their families received a dowry in korlith, a rare and costly metal with which they could pay debts, live comfortably, and even afford the education of other children.

Why were these girls so coveted? Because to serve Issaria was to serve kings and warriors, men who fervently believed that drinking from a woman’s pleasure made them stronger in battle. The nobles felt blessed when they could sate themselves with a maiden, for it was the goddess’s command, and to her they dedicated every act.

That morning, Naelys presented herself before the older women charged with inspecting them. They made her strip naked on a white platform, under a harsh light that left no corner in shadow, and asked her to turn slowly while they examined every inch of her body.

“She’s beautiful,” murmured the youngest nursemaid, sliding her fingers through the groove between her firm buttocks.

They all nodded in approval. Though she was not among the tallest who had arrived, her five feet seven was pure muscle, the result of years of good nourishment and discipline. Nature had gifted her clear, luminous skin, large, firm breasts, and hips that invited a hand.

Her dark hair fell to her waist, in contrast with the pallor of her skin. Her eyes, a shade lighter than amber, shone with anticipation. She had been trained her whole life to serve warriors, but she could not keep the knot of nerves from tightening in her stomach. She wanted to honor her family’s name.

The senior nursemaid entered the inspection room. Authority showed in every gesture, in the curt way she gave orders.

“Well then, is she worthy of serving the goddess?”

“She is,” answered the younger nursemaids in unison.

“I see. You are very beautiful. You’ll be one of the favorites, I assure you,” she said, addressing Naelys for the first time.

“My destiny is to serve, my lady, and I will do so with devotion and pleasure,” she replied, just as she had been taught.

“Then take her to the chambers. A veteran will test her. It will be her first offering to the goddess.”

“By the grace of our lady,” the nursemaids exclaimed again.

***

They bathed her in perfumed water and coated her in a warm oil of lunaris flowers, massaging her shoulders, her back, the curve of her hips until her skin was left gleaming and sensitive to the slightest touch. They passed a sponge between her thighs with deliberate slowness, and Naelys had to bite her lip so as not to betray the tingling that rose from her belly. They depilated her carefully and dressed her in a silk tunic so fine that, rather than cover her, it traced every line of her body beneath the fabric.

Then they led her to a large room dominated by an enormous bed and by a strange, very high frame with a side ladder. The frame split in two down the middle, so that the handmaiden would be left with her legs open, offering her sex at exactly the height of the mouth of whoever was to taste her. Merely imagining herself stretched there, exposed before a stranger, made her pulse quicken in a way she could not tell was fear or anticipation.

At either side stood two metal posts with leather straps, to secure her and keep her still. At the back, a small altar with a statue of the goddess, barely taller than a forearm, two white candles, two golden cups, and a bottle of wine blessed for the ritual.

It was the first time Naelys would carry out that ceremony. They had explained the theory to her a hundred times, but reality weighed differently. She sat on the edge of the immense bed while the servant closed the door, and for several minutes she was completely alone. The whole room was designed for ecstasy: there could be no doubt of that. Suddenly the door opened.

A man entered and watched her intently for a few seconds. She stood at once and offered him a bow.

“My lord, my name is Naelys of Veyra, and I am here to serve the goddess and give her whatever pleasure she desires.”

The man approached, and then she could see him in all his splendor. He was very tall, broad-shouldered, with muscles defined by years of war. His hair was cropped close, and a perfect beard framed a full mouth. His eyes, a very pale blue, almost gray, locked onto hers.

“Naelys. A lovely name,” he said in a deep, measured voice. “Take off the tunic and lie down on the stallion.”

So that strange frame is what they call a stallion, she thought.

She obeyed without hesitation. She felt the man’s gaze travel over her back and settle on her buttocks, almost like a warm caress, and to her own surprise that aroused her. She had not expected it.

“Yes, my lord,” she said, placing her legs in the required position, open and exposed.

The warrior, whose name was Draxen, had already stripped off his clothes. Naelys gazed at his magnificent body and, lower than his waist, his heavy sex, still at rest but threatening. He looked her in the eye with a strange glint and moved toward the stallion. First he tied her legs to the posts, then her wrists. Then he brushed her nipples gently, and after that squeezed them more firmly. She liked it. Too much.

Naelys sighed and closed her eyes, ready to concentrate, to give the goddess her orgasm in the warrior’s mouth. She felt thick, firm fingers parting her, and then warm breath that preceded the tongue. Draxen licked her lips without restraint as he opened them with his fingers, seeking the deepest part of her intimacy. She began to wriggle against the narrow frame.

He was an expert. He knew the exact rhythm, the right pressure, the moment to withdraw and leave her waiting, and when to return, just when she could bear it least. He ran his tongue up to the clitoris and sucked it while two fingers sank into her effortlessly, because she was already soaking wet. Every time she thought she was nearing the limit, he eased off and left her suspended, gasping, helplessly tugging at the straps that kept her open for his mouth.

Naelys moaned, timid at first. It was exquisite. How much longer can I hold out?

She felt him open his mouth wider and press it fully to her sex, sucking, licking, while his hands moved up to her breasts to press and pinch the nipples, already so hard that every touch sent a shiver through her. She writhed, and her moans had become screams. Her buttocks lifted off the stallion and she began to feel the first spasms. At that instant Draxen surged forward: three thick fingers filling her in one stroke while he sucked hard at her reddened clitoris. She could not endure it any longer. Naelys of Veyra burst with a cry of absolute pleasure, every muscle convulsing in full ecstasy.

He did not stop sucking. Now was when he had to drink the handmaiden’s nectar and swallow it in the goddess’s name. He slowly drew his fingers from the sex that was still contracting in waves and licked away every trace of moisture, just as divine mandate commanded.

Then, with his face still shining, he released the straps. Staggering, Naelys followed him to the altar, where they lit the white candles as a sign that the offering had been completed. Draxen filled the cups, handed her one, and they both drank the blessed wine before bowing before the statue.

Naelys saw it in his gaze: he wanted her. And she wanted him to take her, because that was the next step of the ritual. With her legs still trembling, she made her way to the enormous bed to fulfill her duty.

But that is another story.