by Annie Eppa
Contents
The Shrinemaiden
Copyright Information
Chapter One: The Auction
Chapter Two: The Temple
Chapter Three: The Price
Chapter Four: Repercussions
Chapter Five: A Proposal
Chapter Six: An Encounter
Chapter Seven: Training Begins
Chapter Eight: The Lessons
Chapter Nine: A Different Game
Chapter Ten: All Good Things
Chapter Eleven: Preparations
Chapter Twelve: Sarcopia
Chapter Thirteen: A Seduction
Chapter Fourteen: Secrets
Chapter Fifteen: The Ball
Chapter Sixteen: Arrisque
Chapter Seventeen: Allies
Chapter Eighteen: Plans
Chapter Nineteen: Outmaneuvered
Chapter Twenty: Strategy
Chapter Twenty-One: Into the Den
Chapter Twenty-Two: Betrayal
Chapter Twenty-three: Rage
Chapter Twenty-four: The Rebellion
Chapter Twenty-Five: Home
About Annie Eppa
A Excerpt from The Slavemaiden: Coming in 2014
THE SHRINEMAIDEN
THE SHRINEMAIDEN © Copyright 2013 Annie Eppa. All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
Warning: THE SHRINEMAIDEN contains explicit scenes of dubious consent, m/f/m situations and bondage.
The Shrinemaiden is an erotic fantasy novel, a standalone and the first of the Maidens trilogy. Follow Annie’s blog for new releases and future giveaways!
Blog: http://annieeppa.wordpress.com
Goodreads: Annie Eppa
CHAPTER ONE
The Auction
She should fetch a good price today, they said.
The madame told Adelai this as she brushed her hair, until it’s golden enough to her satisfaction. For the first time in her life, Adelai was surrounded by servants, who help her into the elaborate weaves and frills of her bridal gown. Shrinemaidens to be consecrated all wear the same thing - white silk affairs of ribbons and lace, cut low enough to display hints of bosom to draw in more bidders, but high enough to maintain a pretense at modesty. But modesty, Adelai knew, is not one of the many things that shall happen tonight.
Over the babble of the other shrinemaidens getting ready the High Priestess Saleia told her the same thing, as she scrutinized her appearance. Though her eyes are failing and her back is stooped from forty years spent overseeing rituals and ceremonies like these, she was quick to spot and point out every flaw, from a wayward lock of hair to the minute, nearly invisible creases in Adelai’s dress. Tonight, she insisted, must be perfect. High Priestess Saleia runs the temple of Inne-Anneah like a soldiers’ barracks, and to girls like Adelai it felt natural to be a little afraid of her. It was hard to imagine that the high priestess had, once upon a very long time, been a shrinemaiden herself, with her wrinkled face and long nose.
“Show no nervousness!” She reminded the girls in her harsh nasal voice. “Your auction price shall depend on your manner and bearing, and your future shall depend on your auction price. Need I repeat myself again on the consequences of receiving a low bid?”
The High Priestess need not. Everyone in the room was very much aware of what a low price would mean. A mediocre existence playing mistress to unimportant men at best; plying the trade in the illegal brothels still active within the city, at the worst.
A high bidding price, however, meant power. The chance to consort with kings and princes.
Among the kingdom elite, a shrinemaiden’s virginity is a sought-after luxury.
High Priestess Saleia took her bidding prices seriously. The summation of her girls’ worth amounts to the shrine’s reputation. The Temple of Inne-Anneah, the Goddess of Love and Lust, is a sovereign nation all on its own, a small drop of island between the kingdoms of Atalantea and Sarcopia, and bowed to no king.
Opportunities to bid for a shrinemaiden are extended only to a selected pool of men and women, all with varying combinations of nobility and wealth that satisfies even the High Priestess’ stringent criteria. It is for this reason girls like Adelai and her sisters spend years at the temple, training in court etiquette as well as in the seductive arts. They were taught politics and law, economics and trade, because the High Priestess considered this a valuable asset - sometimes more than the arts learned in the bedroom.
Adelai sometimes thought outsiders would find it strange to know that they were schooled to distinguish a count from a duke or a baron, to dance and play the harp, to converse in world affairs - just as well as they were how to pleasure a man with their mouths. Training was strict. Girls who chose to disobey one too many times, or whose innocence was compromised during their novitiates, were turned out with nothing but the clothes on their back and bleak prospects.
All potential shrinemaidens share one unique characteristic: their eyes were varying shades of purple, believed to be the mark of Inne-Anneah’s favor. Violet-eyed girls from noble families serve in the temple willingly, an honor that brings much prestige. Daughters of poor families, those with far too many mouths to feed, are sold to the high priestess in the hopes they can lead a better life there. Orphans like Adelai were dedicated to the temple even quicker, lacking the families to mourn their absence.
Adelai remember little of her parents. They died when she was only three, she was told; a result of a plague that had once ran rampant throughout the land. She was the youngest to have ever been offered, the ceremony performed by the high priestess herself. Adelai was the only one, she says, to have ever manifested purple eyes before five years of age.
Despite what the high priestess says, Adelai knew she had every reason to be nervous. Raised as the girls are in the arts of pleasure, they have never touched a man, or been touched by one. Their lives have been worldly, but they were also sheltered, the temple forbidden from entry to most males. Formal literature notwithstanding, their practices in the sexual arts have been limited to wooden phalluses for their mouths, and in other innocent experimentation, all to better preserve their expensive virginities. None of them had firsthand experience in the hands of real men, and it is this fear that plagues all shrinemaidens in the days leading up to their biddings.
All these thoughts ran through Adelai’s mind, even as the high priestess looks her over one last time and nods, satisfied. “I suppose you are as ready as you shall ever be. At any rate, you should fetch a good price today.” She laughs, but Adelai doesn’t. Saleia knows what is to come next; she does not.
Only one man is inside the waiting room they are shown into, an hour before the auctions are to begin. It was a shock to find him there, and for a moment, Adelai wavered. This is not the first meeting she had had with Thornton Altfyre, the taciturn, Sarcopian captain of the guard, and she knew well enough that he wasn’t supposed to be here. A young servant in the room hurried forward, eyes wide. “Milord - “ he began but is silenced when the captain raised his hand. The high priestess clucked disapprovingly, but he paid her no attention. His eyes were on Adelai, and despite herself she cannot help but blush.
“I was… sent, to inquire whether the preparations have been completed,” he said to the high priestess, and the mild distaste in his voice at being sent to oversee this trivial errand
was clear. “The other auctions have been set. Already the slaves have been put on display.”
Slaves. Adelai could not stop herself from shivering. Shrinemaidens were not the only ones to be bidden on that night, but they were the only ones who have gone willingly. Many of the others at that separate auction are to be sold into slavery for their failure to pay debt, but the majority were prisoners from the latest war between Highrolfe and Sarcopia. The latter kingdom had emerged victorious, and many of those taken prisoner are a strange mix of notorious commanders and famed nobles. Adelai could not help but feel sympathy for them, but in this she knew she was powerless to interfere. While many of the guests will not be able to participate at a shrinemaidens’ auction, they can easily join in the biddings for these others. And while guests shall only pay for one night with a shrinemaiden, the others will be kept in servitude for the rest of their lives.
“We will begin soon.” The high priestess says, watching the captain watch her. Adelai kept her head bowed. She could feel the tension in the room, but was too afraid to look back at the man again.
Thornton was the only male from the outside permitted to enter the Temple of Inne-Anneah in recent years, although his visits were usually marked by the presence of dozens of matrons, to ward off any temptation on his side or on the girls. Adelai’s sisters rarely encountered him inside the temples though, and they all had constantly speculated as to his reasons for visiting, for the captain of the guard of the kingdom of Sarcopia had little in common with a temple high priestess, no matter how well-connected she was. Atalantea and Sarcopia have been at constant war in the past, though an unsteady truce holds at the moment.
“Maybe they’re lovers,” one of her sisters suggested once, and the others laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Adelai tried to smile along with the others, fearful they would see through her. The explanation was simple enough. Sarcopia was hosting the auction this year at the king’s palace, and the captain had been sent to hammer out the details. Why the captain of the guard was chosen to oversee this on behalf of the king, was still anyone’s guess, and it was obvious that the man himself was discomfited. Many spoke darkly of a trap, an attempt by King Garrant to do with treachery what warfare and strategy had failed. That Belair, the king of Atalantea, and the High Priestess Saleia seem willing to overlook this ploy and entertain the captain further puzzled Adelai, for she knew King Belair was a highly intelligent man. The high priestess, for all her acerbity, was also the wisest woman she knew. Furthermore, the temple had sworn not to interfere in all kingdom matters, to maintain their neutrality.
Adelai did not need to look back at him to know that there was a smile on the captain’s face. Today he made no jests or attempts to infuriate her as he often did, or ignore her. Adelai mustered enough strength to shoot him a freezing glance, like he was nothing more than tapestry as far as she was concerned. Thornton was one of the Sarcopian king’s closest advisors, and a powerful man in his own right, but not even he has the means to bid in the auctions, lacking the long lineage that has sustained Sarcopian nobility for countless generations. It made her heart twist, just a little, at this reminder.
Rather than be annoyed by her disdain, he grinned back, that little curl to his lips that invited and provoked at the same time. Adelai responded by turning her gaze away, trying in vain to look for something more interesting to fix her eyes on, without much luck. Her other sisters swallowed their first instincts to giggle among themselves, and bowed coquettishly at him as they passed, like they had been taught to.
The auctions were to take place during a lavish dinner inside the palace’s dining hall. None of the girls batted an eyelash over the luxuries of the place, nor did they gasp at its obvious opulence, from the richly draped scarlet curtains to the sparkling chandelier that glitters down at them from overhead; to the long tables arranged with expensive silverware and goblets that gleam gold in the light, though this was their first time visiting the castle. The high priestess’ training made sure of that.
The guests settled, ate from sumptuous-looking meals of ox and fattened partridge. Hovering servants filled their decanters with wine. Several of the other kings were in attendance, even the King of Atalantea, in what appeared to be a gesture of goodwill to the Sarcopian king. A small gong from somewhere sounded, marking the girls’ entrance into the room, and all looked up to watch them approach.
Adelai’s legs shook, but she concealed her fear. There were far more people here than she had ever expected. Looking at those sea of expectant faces, some curious, others eager, it was hard not to feel anxious. A few of her sisters trembled as well, but one look from the High Priestess was all it took to stiffen their resolve.
It was also Adelai’s first time to see the prisoners, those captured during the Highrolfe - Sarcopia war. Some she quickly recognized not by face, but by the way the others treated them. The prisoner in the middle of the group must be the legendary General Khalid Exeter, she thought, easily the most prized item among the prisoners then. It was he who had dealt the most damage to the Sarcopians, earning substantial victories throughout the war despite the overwhelming odds and in the face of a larger army, for Sarcopia was a military kingdom and Highrolfe was not. Some said he fought valiantly at the last battle that had eventually overcome his nation, giving the king and many of his subjects time to flee to the safety of the Ongkor mountains while he remained behind. It had taken a dozen men to overpower and capture him.
Even now, despite his new status, the man remained defiant. He wore a simple shift lined with the green and gold of Sarcopia, and his muscular arms and chest were bare, cross-marked by numerous scars and old wounds. He was a handsome man and heavily built, with his brown hair and hard gray eyes. He stood tall, head held proudly and paying no heed to the laughter and the jeers of the other guests as they taunted him. Most of the other prisoners made up most of his regiment, from what Adelai had been told. While some appeared broken and hopeless, others were endeavoring to put up as brave a front as their leader.
Adelai couldn’t help but admire them. It seems that the courage of General Khalid and his men had not been exaggerated.
As part of the festivities, she and her sisters were to serve the guests that were to take part in their auctions, to better familiarize themselves with their potential buyers. They moved among the tables bearing pitchers of wine and platters of bread and other foodstuffs, obediently filling glasses and dispensing with small talk while these guests watched. It was also another subtle test for the girls to pass. It was imperative that they maintain proper decorum at all times here; one affronted dinner guest could unravel the years spent in preparation for this night.
The guests had been reminded beforehand to treat them with the utmost courtesy, though on occasion a few attempted to push their luck. “Well now, aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” One of the men slurred, as Adelai moved to fill his tankard. He was portly and decked out in jewels, with rings on his finger and heavy gold pendants around his neck. He leered at her and, without warning, took hold of her arm and yanked it hard, sending her tumbling into his lap. He squeezed her bottom painfully. “Stay a little longer here with me, sweet child. I would like to know the little pretties before I buy them.”
Adelai swallowed her revulsion, at the thought of this man buying her. Instead, she pasted a small, almost conciliatory smile on her face. “I have many other glasses to fill, good sir,” she said, as pleasantly as she could, quickly pulling herself away and sidestepping his hand when he made to lunge at her again. “And I cannot be remiss in my duties. Things do not always go the way we expect them to, don’t we?” She knew she should not have made that last statement, knowing it would annoy him, but his behavior both embarrassed and infuriated her. The fat man scowled, but already one of the soldiers posted to ward off such behavior was approaching him, and she took that opportunity to hurry away.
To her relief, none of the other guests were as rude as the man, instead content to ask questio
ns while she refilled their drinks, or compliment her on her looks, which she responded to with grateful gravity.
The kings were better behaved than their subjects. King Belair, the ruler of Atalantea, smiled at Adelai when she refilled his goblet, and asked her many questions about her life in the temple. He was more attentive to her at times than he was to most of the guests at his table, frequently calling her over again to converse more. His wife, the beautiful Vielyna, was by his side, listening quietly and smiling at Adelai, though she thought the queen’s smile looked a little strained. The king of Dolynkar was a jovial man whose muscles had long since run to fat, but was amiable and prone to joking. The king of Gonnovat, a notorious misogynist, was a sallow man who was more interested in the food than in the shrinemaidens present.
The King of Sarcopia took the center table; a handsome man still in his thirties who talked very little, but had a way of watching people, like he knew a secret no one else did. Adelai had heard the rumors about him, of his alleged madness. That he had promoted his favorite horse to be his Gentleman of the Chambers, how he had ridden through the streets with a riding crop, whipping at any women he could reach with glee. Rumors spoke of how he shoved a noblewoman into a muddy pool as a practical joke, dropped pastries down the king of Gonnovat‘s head - it could be the reason the man scowled frequently at the Sarcopian king, but in truth he scowled at everyone - and of how he ripped up taverns and spent days carousing in brothels. Over the years the jokes turned crueler; there was talk of whipping men at the marketplace who he claimed were too tall; forcibly dragging women away, demanding to be orally pleasured by then. Adelai did not know if the gossip was true, but the king at this moment did not look mad, only bored.
The shrinemaidens’ bidding would be done through secret ballot; their winning bid would be announced at the end of the night, together with the winner’s name. This had always been the longstanding tradition, and Adelai suspected that the secrecy involved only heightened the allure of the whole process. The slave auction, on the other hand, had no such policy, for they were to be sold at a live bidding. Each slave would quickly learn who had bought them, to further their humiliation and douse what spirit they had left.