Harvest Of The Virgin Sacrifice, Filled With Hot Seed

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.

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.

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.