by Darcy Sweet
She blushed and flicked her gaze away, staring at the bed covers. “You think me pretty Mistress?”
I curled a finger under her chin tilting her face up until her eyes met mine. “I think you beautiful Hatha. I think you magnificent.”
“Mi-mistress,” she stammered and moved to place a warm kiss on my palm. That simple act filled me with joy. My heart glowed with the connection I saw in her eyes. I thought back to last night, to how sorrowful I had been at her ‘service’ comment. As I looked down at my friend I shook my head. How could I have doubted her? Of what joined us? We were friends. She was more than my handmaiden. Much more.
“Shall we go now Hatha. What state of undress am I required in today?” I joked though a stifled yawn.
“You are still weary my Mistress.”
“I am, but there is little we can do about that.”
I arched my spine and raised my arms up, closing my eyes for a moment as I sank into the pleasure of the stretch. While my eyes had been closed she had stood. I felt her hands on my shoulders. I smiled, and turned my head to rub my cheek on her hand. She pushed when I expected her to pull. I fell back on the cot, my legs hanging over the edge.
“Hatha,” I laughed.
“Lay still,” she ordered, and because it was comfortable I did. A warm wash cloth worked across my body in wet slippery strokes. A moan of pleasure slid from my mouth as she added pressure to the heat of the cloth massaging me with each stroke. “Oh, Hatha, that’s so good.”
She hummed as she worked down my torso to my legs.
“Stand,” she ordered and I did so with a feigned groan of protest. The cloth worked across my shoulders and back with ruthless efficiency. I resigned myself to the fact that we would leave soon, scrubbed clean to face the Mother.
“You are clean,” she said finally, sounding very satisfied.
“A fresh slate,” I joked. I moved as if to turn to face her but the hands she had shifted to grip my hips would not let me.
“Hatha…”
“Let me help you Mistress. Let me…” her whispered words trailed off as she breathed against my skin and rested her cheek on the pillow of my arse.
She spread my cheeks, and licked me from behind. A strangled gasp slipped from my throat as the damp point of her tongue hit my arsehole. I spread my legs and leaned forward until my hands hit the wall beside my cot.
“Yes.” I heard her murmur from behind.
Her tongue flickered across my most private place. A flutter of constant shooting pleasure. I fell into the pleasure of this darkest kiss. Her fingers snaked between my thighs to slide between my sticky lips and push inside. I gasped again as her fingers curled inside me circling pressure into the walls. I clenched around her fingers in a sharp almost painful orgasm. Once and then again as she gave me no respite.
Dizzy, my hands slipped on the wall and I fell forward onto the cot, my knees banging on the edge. Twice I had just come, but I wanted more. The sharp stinging orgasms had just fueled the need. I stumbled to get my footing and turned to face Hatha. She smiled up at me from her knees on the floor. Her lips swollen and wet. Her tongue poked out to flicker at the seam.
I came up on my feet, with rough fingers fisted in her loose hair I brought her mouth to my aching centre. Two hands I held fast in her fair, holding her as if reining a mount. I saddled my swollen sex on her mouth and ground my mound down on her face, riding her with ruthless intensity.
“Yes. Hatha—yes.” I grunted as I ground down on her tongue riding to my next orgasm. Power surged through me, up my body from my sex, pulsing at my breasts. My nipples points of aching intensity. Up, up she took me to the peak of my orgasm. Racing, higher and higher on her skilled mouth.
I looked down at her, as she ate at my sex, her hands gripping my hips, digging into my flesh to keep me from moving away, her eyes drilling into mine. It was too intense, her need to please me too much to bear, I looked away and saw him.
Askel.
The young man watched from the door. He’d let himself in but had shifted no further than the door behind him. He leaned against the wood, one hand moving fast, rubbing the erection bulging beneath the soft suede of his breeches. His eyes were fixed on Hatha’s face at my sex and he stroked in time with each movement of her head. It were as if an invisible line existed between his cock and the tongue lapping at my slit.
I laughed. His eyes flicked up to meet mine. The power of his lust made me reel. I locked my knees to keep from falling back. Hatha paused in her licking. I twisted her hair to keep her from moving away. I did not want her to stop. I did not want her to stop. Or him.
A new heat uncurled deep within flicking out to crackle across my skin. “More,” I whispered and heard my own voice ring deep with an unbeknownst power.
He understood my command. The Vessel’s compulsion. He pushed his breeches down until they sat below his hips. His cock jerked free, plum tipped and glistening with cum.
“Touch,” I commanded and his hand began to stroke. Root to tip he pulled on his shaft.
I watched.
He watched.
And Hatha worshiped at the altar of my sex.
It took but a moment for me to come again. Pulsing surges of release that shot from my body drenching Hatha with my cum. My power peaked with my orgasm, energy surging up and down my spine trying to burst free. I had to release. Release the power.
Askel. He was my release.
“Cum,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
His mouth gaped open as his body obeyed my call without question. His hips jerked and thick ropes of his seed pulsed forth onto the cold stone floor. Like a puppeteer I controlled him. With the certainty of the power that coursed through my veins I knew it.
“Cum,” I said again.
I felt it the surge from me, a pulsing link of power from my sex to Askel who shuddered once more in orgasm. He fell forward to his knees. On all fours he arched his back like a pained animal and his cock spewed forth stream after stream of cum.
I laughed.
I was potent. I was ringing with power. With magical might. From my toes to the ends of each strand of hair I was abuzz of my arcane energy.
I released my fingers from Hatha’s hair and brought my hand down to stroke across her cheek. “Thank you,” I murmured looking down at my fingers starkly pale on her flushed skin.
“I am in your service,” she parroted the platitude of a handmaiden.
Her words stung. Like a careless slap. I still felt the buzz of power but it no longer resonated with joy—the fire dampened by Hatha’s service.
I was a brittle shell. A Vessel of still, but of loneliness, or empty sorrow.
“You are in my service,” I said, voice hollow as empty as I felt.
“I am your Handmaiden. You are my Mistress. I service you as you need. You are the Vessel.”
“The Vessel,” Askel repeated, now seated with his back to the door.
From where she still knelt between my thighs Hatha turned her head to his voice, noticing Askel for the first time. As only Hatha could she rose to her feet and with a mouth still glistening with my released asked, “What are you doing here?” as if he’d just interrupted us breaking our fast.
“I am here to take The Vessel to the Mother.”
“I am ready,” I said.
Hatha looked to me with her brow furrowed.
“I am ready,” I repeated more firmly. I wanted to leave the room. I did not care where to, just away from the stifling presence of loveless Hatha’s service.
Chapter 7
The Mother waited not in the Council Chambers or her personal suite as I had expected but in the Bathing rooms. Askel led us across the baths, weaving through the women sitting in different pools. They watched us and I wondered what they thought, of me dressed only in a diaphanous robe, Hatha in her leather vest and Askel in his suede breeches. We were a bizarre parade as we stepped slowly across the slippery rocks.
“Where are the children?” I asked, n
oticing that there were only women in the pools.
“They bathe in the family quarters. This is only for women who are of age,” Askel said, shooting a grin at me over his shoulder. It was the first time he had smiled since leaving my chambers. I was glad to see it. He seemed anxious. His conversation was nervous and stilted. I wondered if it was Hatha who made him nervous, she watched him with a hawklike gaze. The sight of the naked women seemed to clear all that away. He was cocky now. Strutting like a peacock.
“And why then are you here?” I asked, matching his wicked grin.
He sighed, full of pathos. “I am on a mission for the Mother. A difficult mission that takes me through these,” he said sweeping out a hand and meeting the coy gaze of a nubile bather in the nearest pool, “beautiful and uncharted waters.”
The bather giggled. Hatha snorted and pushed him from behind. Askel slipped and lost his footing, almost ending up in the pool.
I laughed. Hatha turned and frowned. Askel met my eyes and then petulantly screwed up his face like a child behind Hatha’s back. I laughed again. Hatha turned back and Askel comically wiped his face clear of all expression.
“Let’s go,” Hatha grumbled.
Tempting Hatha’s wrath Askel risked another wicked grin and started to move again leading us past the pools to a room at the back.
Hatha stopped short, holding out her arm to stop me.
“The Tattoo room? This is where the Mother has beckoned us?”
“Yes,” Askel replied, his smile faltering slightly at Hatha’s withering glare.
“Why?” Hatha asked, voice hard and teetering on the edge of anger. What’s the problem? I wondered. I’d always anticipated that at some point I’d be tattooed, I was Sarran after all; I did not expect my skin to remain unmarked. Why did Hatha object?
“I do not question the Mother. I simply do her bidding.”
“Her bidding,” Hatha murmured and shook her head as if it made no sense.
“What is it?” I asked Hatha, pushing against the hand she still held out to keep me from entering the room. I was curious to see what had aroused Hatha’s suspicions. What she sought to keep from me.
Curious and stubborn right to the bone, as soon as Hatha held me back I burned to see it for myself. My Mother, when she lived had told me often that curiosity was my downfall. I stepped forward.
“Wait,” Hatha said, as impatiently I tried to push past her into the room. “Mistress Vessel you should let me go first. I should talk to the Mother.”
Her words grated. They stiffened my spine. Maybe if she’d asked. Not ordered. Not told me what I should do. Maybe then I would have agreed.
“The Vessel comes alone.” Askel’s easy grin had flattened into a thin line. He stood in front of the doorway barring Hatha entrance.
“The Vessel does not go alone,” Hatha matched his tone. They squared off, like fighters readying for battle. Lithe young beauty and sturdy maternal force. Shoulders set and eyes matched with steely determination. It was almost laughable. If I hadn’t felt so trapped by their decisions, perhaps I would have indulged a smile at the situation. Again I was faced with people bickering over my choices.
My choices.
I would make them. Not one in service. Not Askel. Not the Mother. Or the Coven. Me, because it was always me alone who faced the consequences.
“The Vessel is always alone.” I did not intend to speak the realization aloud. It bubbled up, spilling over from the reservoir of sad truth that lay wthin.
Feared, desired worshiped, the Vessel stood apart. An object. An altar. The center of their desires, they circled me but I never joined them. I was always apart.
“Always alone.” I repeated sadly.
Hatha broke free from her glare at Askel. Her head snapped around to face me. “That is not true Mistress.” She sounded exhausted and frustrated as she said, “I am always with you.”
“In service.”
“Well, yes,” she frowned, obviously perplexed by my dead tone, “In service.”
I pushed her hand away. “I wish to go alone.”
She pushed back, placing her forearm square on my chest, barring me from moving forward. “Alone? I do not think…”
“No! You don’t think Hatha, you serve. You only serve.”
She flinched, dropped her arm and stepped back. “Mistress, I do not know why you’re…”
“You don’t know. You can’t know. There is only me and only I know—and I go alone.” Before she could stop me I stepped past her and beckoned Askel, “Take me to the Mother.”
He nodded and turned to Hatha. “You are dismissed.”
The tattoo room glowed pink. The rock walls not black and smooth like those of the bathing pool, but quartz like, flecked with rose gold and bronze. There was nothing to fear here, nothing to justify Hatha’s concern.
“Beautiful,” I sighed, as I turned in a circle to catch the full range of color that bounced from the glowing walls.
“Yes. And sacred. Can you feel its power?” Askel asked.
I stepped to the nearest wall and raised a hand to touch its smoothness. Yes. Power. My skin began to sing with it as my fingers neared the pink surface. The moment I touched the soft wall, the bones of my hand, then my entire arm began to hum. It spread into my chest, sweet and intoxicating. I swayed feeling for a moment as if I’d imbibed too much wine.
The sensation came too hard, too fast. I dropped my hand, the connection broke. I sucked in a breath to steady myself. It tasted of herbs. That’s when I noticed the smoke. I pointed to one of the whisping plumes of smoke coming from each corner and Askel said, “They’re incense Mistress. For the marking ceremony.”
I coughed, the smoke tickling my throat.
“It takes some getting used to Mistress. Let me get you a drink.” He shifted to a dais at the back of the room. I watched him pour from a gold decanter into a goblet. I took the cup from his outstretched hand. It was wine. Heady and sweet. I gulped it down and handed him the empty goblet. He discarded it at his feet. It tipped, the last of the liquid spilled out on the smooth pink floor in blood like swirls at his boots.
“I’m to be marked? Tattooed?” The intoxicated feeling was back. A wave hit me and I fought not to sway. Was it the wine? Or the smoke?.
He nodded. “Lined with power. Marked with spell.”
“Who does this? The Mother?”
Askel shook his head and gave a little chuckle. “No, not the Mother. You’ve never seen a marking then?”
“No.”
“It’s quite physical. Both strength and delicacy are required. Even when the Mother was younger it was not her calling.”
“Strength? Does it hurt?”
“The marking?” He stepped forward as he spoke. His voice deep and as intoxicating as the sweet scented smoke filling my lungs. “Yes Mistress Vessel, It is quite… painful.”
Painful. He’d made the word sound so erotic. So appealing. My nipples beaded hard beneath the thin fabric of my robe. My reaction did not go unnoticed. His eyes flicked down and settled on the points. He ran his tongue along the seam of his lips. My back arched, my body moving without thought, instinctively pushing my aching nipples closer to that tongue. When I realized what I’d done I squared my shoulders and took a step back.
“Where do I wait for Mother? Will she arrive soon?”
“She has given me instruction.”
I nodded. My head felt fuzzy. His voice seemed further away. It echoed as if bouncing down a long hallway.
“You should wait here.” He pointed to a flat stone in the centre of the room. An altar stone.
He took my elbow and guided me to it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw others slip into the room. A wiry man, corded with lean muscle. He carried a tapered stick about the length of his forearm and a bowl. Two women followed him a step behind on either side.
“The Marker,” Askel whispered in my ear as he nudged me into shrugging out of my robe. Nude, he helped me lay flat on the stone. I looked up a
t him, his face hovered above me, he trailed a finger across my lips and then down the length of my body. At the peak of my nipple he paused and flicked his fingertip across. My back arched up to meet his touch.
The cool of the stone at my back, the heat of his fingertip. The ache of my breasts, skin taut and hungry— I swam in sensation. I was primed. Ready. For what?
The Marker joined Askel followed by the two other women. Young. Beautiful. Hair shining blond. Their faces swam together, images of beauty, swirls of pale and flushed pink skin through the smoke.
“The Mother?” I rasped, my voice rough. It hurt to speak.
“Shhh, all in good time Mistress. All in good time.”
I had questions. I was sure of it, but I could not think of them. Hatha. I wanted Hatha. She would know. And then I remembered how I had dismissed her. How I had let Askel send her away.
Stupid pride.
“Turn Mistress.” Not Askel’s voice. The Marker’s. Hands gripped my shoulders and rolled me over until my belly was flat on the warm stone. My head fitted into a carved recess, a hole in the stone. I closed my eyes.
“Relax. Close your eyes,” Askel’s breath blew warm on my throat as he brushed my hair off my neck.”
They scrubbed me first. The women. I knew it was them as I felt the soft brush of their breasts on my back and sides as they worked. Razors came next. The feeling of the blade familiar, from when Hatha had stripped me of my body hair. First the back of my legs then my arse spread, the sharp blade scraping gently at the soft skin between. They worked fast, two sets of hands in perfect unison. No words were spoken, no commands issued. They moved as one without direction. Together they turned me over to lay me on my back. One brushed the hair from my face, leaning in to me, her nipple stroking my cheek while the other worked the razor stripping hair from my legs and sex. Front and back they worked fast, two set of hands cleaning and shaving the length of my body.