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  Harvest of the Virgin Sacrifice

  Filled with Hot Seed

  The Aucrates Trilogy Part One

  By Gracie Lacewood

  Copyright Gracie Lacewood 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the author.

  All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters depicted are eighteen years of age or older.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  The Caves of Ladlaine

  A thick smoke fills the air, choking my eyes and lungs. It’s coming from the burning herbs inside the thurible that the priestess in front of me swings from a long gold chain. My Priestesses chant their sacred hymns as they guide me down to the caves of the goddess Ladlaine. My mistress told me that very few ever get to see these caves and I am lucky to have the honor. I suppose I feel a bit lucky, mostly I feel nervous, nervous and excited because tomorrow will be my last day in this earthly realm.

  I have never touched a man before, and no man has ever seen me, but every day I see the potentate and his vassals pass beneath the windows of my chambers, where I live secluded from the world under the mistress’ stern eye. The potentate has a finely made and handsome face, his eyes are an unearthly shade of green and they mesmerize me. His hair is golden and it falls, unruly, into his strong tanned face. His body is lean and muscular. Though a fear of the day that I will be given to him builds in me by the day, there is also a secret excitement beneath my fear.

  At night I draw the gauzy draperies around my bed so that the priestesses cannot see me and I imagine the hands of the men I have seen through the window, as they take me. I imagine their cocks hardening beneath my lips as I pleasure them with my tongue and mouth. I reach down underneath my linen shift and rub the swelling place between my legs. In my mind the men lay me on a bed of red silk and hold me there. The potentate approaches me, naked, his thick red cock thrust out before him. I am getting wet and I begin to grind my hips against my stroking hands. In my minds eye I see the potentate position himself between my legs and as I imagine him entering me I slip a finger inside myself and try to stifle my moans of pleasure. My body bucks harder against my fingers in the intense thralls of pleasure as I picture him thrusting deeper and deeper into me until, I stop. I stop because I must not have the exquisite agony of a true orgasm until the potentate gives it to me on the day of my harvesting.

  Lately I have been allowed to practice with the priestesses in order to prepare myself and my body for the girth of the potentate, but they only tease me with their tongues. They always withdraw as soon as they see that I am close. So, though I fear the harvest day and know that it will be my last day in this mortal life, still the very thought of it arouses me. We continue on deeper and deeper into the caves of Ladlaine. I am here to cleanse myself one final time before tomorrow. The path is narrow and dark. The only light comes from the glowing embers of the burning herbs in the thurible. Eventually we come to an ancient wooden door hewn into the stone. I am the last to enter though the door and as I do my breath catches in my throat.

  I am standing in a great circular room. In width it might be forty feet, but the walls of the room loom up so far into the depths of the earth above us that I almost cannot see their end. Great gleaming brass braziers float high above us in a circle, alight with greenish flames. Before us are stone steps leading down into a dark pool. On the other end of the room a massive statue of the Goddess Ladlaine stands above the whole scene, one gargantuan scaled foot resting on a jagged piece of broken glass.

  The Goddess Ladlaine is covered head to toe in scales stronger and sharper than any earthly metal, so whenever she is depicted she always shows us her strength by squeezing a metal blade or standing on the edge of a razor. In this case she holds a broadsword with no pommel or hilt. It juts out above the black water, its tip dangling just feet from the surface.

  Her eyes appear featureless, they are filled with what must be thousands of emeralds, glinting in the light of the green flames. It appears almost as if she were a spider gazing down at us with her multitude of sparkling eyes. The long tresses of her black hair swirl around her shoulders until they join together to form great black chain with an enormous flail dangling from the end of it. The whole scene is terrifying, but I am powerless when two of the Blind Priestesses take my arms.

  I have known the blind priestesses ever since I came here at the age of eight to be groomed for the potentate. They are young, neither is more than twenty-five. Mirelle has fair hair and Chasa, long dark hair that falls almost to her waist. Once they have pulled me down to the water’s edge, they slip off their golden sandals and step into the water. They walk down the steps until they are up to their knees and then motion for me to join them. I stand hesitantly on the step just above the surface of the black water. Its darkness and depth disturbs me.

  When I first came to live in the towers of the reverent I remember being told that these waters reach down, deep into the center of the earth. It is through them that the terrifying Goddess Ladlaine enters the world from her watery underground lair. As I have grown older my faith has wavered from time to time, but now, standing here in the seemingly impossible room with the braziers floating above me, shedding an eerie greenish light over the unsettlingly lifelike statue, I have no doubts. My belief it as strong as it has ever been.

  My two Blind Priestesses slip their heavy velvet robes off their shoulders and stand before me, naked and beckoning. I do not want to go in, but my mistress puts a strong hand on my shoulder and pushes me down until I am standing in the water. It is not cold like I thought it would be, but warm and comfortable. A faint sweet scent rises from the water, it soothes me and eases my ascent. Mirelle slips a hand under my linen shift and begins to massage my budding breast. A fire begins to spread through my already aching pussy as she toys with the tightness of my small nipples. Together my priestesses take hold of my linen shift and pull it over my head.

  Until the day of my reaping I will wear only rough fabrics, but when I am sent to my masters I will be dressed in rich satin underclothing and a fine gown and cloak. It will please my masters to undress me and it is in their pleasure that the gods will feel pleasure. The dark haired priestess Chasa takes my other nipple in her mouth, as her hand reaches between my legs, it creeps up my thigh just to the edge of my cunt and the anticipation of it forces a small moan from my lips. My mistress frowns behind us,

  “Take her to the alter to be cleansed,” she says in a stern voice.

  The two girls giggle, they know that tomorrow they will loose me forever and they want to enjoy me before they do. Together we slip fully into the water. My hair has turned from a pale yellow to a rich gold when my head reemerges from the surface. My priestesses each take an arm and together they swim, with me held afloat between them.

  I was never allowed to leave the towers of the reverent so I never learned to swim. In fact I have not been submerged in water this way since I was seven and I fell into a pond near my home.
The priestesses will sometimes leave the towers and go down to the river to swim, so they are powerful swimmers. I watch their long lithe bodies moving through the water and think of how Mirelle told me sometimes they would meet men at the river and allow the men to pleasure them two at a time.

  I picture it, Chasa with her dark hair rocking slowly back and forth on top of a muscled youth from the village, while his hard hot cock thrusts within her and he groans with the tightness of her wet pussy. Mirelle lies above his mouth and he draws circles with his tongue around her deep red clit. In my minds eye he takes it in his mouth and begins to suck hard on her nub, as my fair-haired priestess moans and reaches down to grip the hair on his bare chest. The priestesses, like me have been instructed in the arts of the flesh and like me on their nineteenth birthday they were given to vassals or high priests to be initiated into divine orgasm, but unlike me it is now their duty to regularly serve as a channels to pleasure. It is no longer necessary that their bodies abstain from ecstasy, whatever they enjoy, so too will the goddesses of our faith.

  As we pass between the point of the sword and the massive bulk of the flail I look upwards to the statue. She is crowned in a circlet of gold studded with barbs of iron pointing downwards towards her scalp. Her green eyes seem to bore into me and I wonder if she can feel my lust. We arrive at her feet and the three of us climb dripping onto a stone platform. Carved to be another piece of broken glass jutting into her scales it is large enough to comfortably hold all three of us.

  My Priestesses smile naughtily and set to work. Mirelle straddles me and pushes me back onto the floor while Chasa kneels between my legs. I feel her tongue glide over my stomach down to the soft sparse hair that covers my mound. Her tongue slips between my folds. The desire in me is mounting, becoming stronger. I think of the potentate and want so badly to feel his cock inside me that I almost scream out with the anticipation of it. Mirelle kisses me, her tongue slipping into my open mouth. I am moaning now as Chasa presses her tongue harder and harder against my aching clit. I want so badly for her to bring me to orgasm, but instead she withdraws from me, that pleasure must wait.

  Her mouth finds its way to the soaking wet pussy of her companion and as she slips her tongue over and over Mirelle’s throbbing red clitoris she begins to moan deeply. They topple off me and I watch with longing as Mirelle slips her fingers down past the dark thatch of Chasa’s hair and between the red lips of her pussy, dripping now with wetness. Chasa gives a throaty moan and I can’t resist. I crawl over to her and begin to massage her full breasts. Her nipples harden under my touch and she grinds harder into her partners fingers. I remove her fingers and place my face up against her glossy red cunt. My tongue finds her clit and circles over it, once, twice and then with the third slow motion of my tongue she cries out and grips my back, undulating in waves of pleasure. I withdraw smiling.

  We draw to the edge of the water and each of the girls hugs me, the warmth of their bare breasts pressing up against my body. I had not noticed before, but a stone basin of clear cold water sits against the wall at the far edge of the platform. Mirelle retrieves an engraved bronze vessel from beside the basin and fills it with water. Chasa kneels me before her and she pours the crisp cold water from the basin over my upturned face as they chant together in low voices echoing eerily off the stone walls.

  They bring me back to the other side of the water where my mistress stands with a clean dry robe of black silk. This is what I will wear until tomorrow when I will be dressed to meet my masters. I try not to think of the clothes they will dress me in then, or the way the hungry lust of the men will rip them off of me. My mistress takes my hand and leads me back to the small wooden door in the side of the room. It looks much smaller from this side, pressed as it is against the hugeness of the chamber.

  Chapter Two

  The Virgin’s Bed

  A strange feeling overwhelms me as we enter back into the passage on the other side of the door. After the bright enormity of the cave it feels as though I am in a different world. As we begin the long dark ascent through the small narrow caverns and back to the surface, I wonder for a moment if that other place was even real. After what feels like at least an hour of climbing, we come to another small wooden door and emerge into one of the many alter rooms in the complex of towers. My mistress removes a great iron ring of keys from a fold within her robes and once again locks away the secrets of Ladlaine. My two priestesses scurry off towards their quarters and my Mistress takes my arm and leads me out of the alter room to a stone staircase. We follow this up to a maze of corridors, “where are we going?” I ask her.

  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.