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From: Anon Sacto <anoninsac@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Wanderer (Mf MF hist fant) {Anoninsac}
Date: Wed, 25 Jun 2003 05:10:06 -0400
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright 2003 with all rights reserved by the author
unless explicitly waived. Non-commercial re-posts to
ASSM or similar venues are allowed provided copyright
information remains on the re-posted story. As a
courtesy to the author please do not delete the
copyright information. No commercial reprints are
authorized.

The author relishes your comments at anoninsac (at)
yahoo (dot) com. If you like this story, see my other
stories at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anoninsac/www.

WARNINGS: This story depicts consensual sexual
activity between men and women, or women and women.
Some of the participants in the story may be under the
age of 18. If you are too young to read about sex
please do not read this.



                The Wanderer

Attend me, O Gentles. It was a time when the People
spoke but one language, a time before the Diaspora of
the People, a time before speaking Sanskrit and Farsi
and Hittite separated the People. It was a time when
magic still held sway, a time when Gods walked the
earth and watched over their People, a time when the
extraordinary might happen to any man. It was after
the season of drenching rains and before the season of
the blazing sun.


A lone rider crested the low hill and looked down. A
small river ran through the wide shallow valley. A
smaller stream cascaded from the hills opposite and
running quickly across the grasslands joined the
river. At the juncture a city had grown. The rider
looked at his destination, Kushakli the great city of
the Southern People.

He spurred his horse into a trot and rode for the city
gate. As he neared, workers in the barley fields
stopped to watch. He was riding a grey horse. It was a
great beast of the Horse People but clearly he wasn't
of that tribe. The Horse People have dark straight
hair and green eyes. The stranger had blazing red hair
and piercing blue eyes. He was a stranger, a wanderer
and therefore not to be trusted. The folk watched him
as he rode toward their city. 

At the gate the warden stopped him, "Stranger, what do
you?"

"I am Ermonde. I am a shaman of my people and have
come in search of amulets of great power to cure. A
sickness has come to my people. We have sacrificed to
the Gods but still our children waste away. I have
come searching for healing for my people," Ermonde
finished. He shifted on the great beasts back, sore
from many days riding.

The warden eyed the horse. "That is a great horse. I
have not seen any except the Horse People ride such a
beast."

"It was given me by a Shaman of the Horse People. He
had no skill to cure the wasting sickness of our
children. He cast a spell of knowledge. In the smoke
he read a message from the Gods; he should give me
this beast and that I should ride south to find the
cure. I come at the behest of the Gods." Ermonde
looked down at the horse smiling inwardly as he
remembered how he actually obtained the beast. He had
been gambling at an inn of the Horse People. His own
dice had been weighted to roll as he knew they would.
Ermonde toyed with one of the men letting him win a
little to build his confidence. The greedy horse man
had gambled his daughter believing that he would win
all. But he lost all. The poor wretch had begged
Ermonde not to despoil his daughter even though it was
now his right. She was betrothed to a clan chief's
son, a great match for his family, which would bring
him prestige and wealth in cattle. Ermonde had
accepted his few coppers, a small amulet of no great
value and a horse in exchange for his promise to leave
the daughter untouched. Little did the poor man know
that Ermonde had no desire for his daughter. She had
no meat on her bones. What man wants a skinny woman?
All men desired a woman with substance; a woman who
could work and bear children. There is beauty in
utility.

The gate warden looked him over once again. Finally he
nodded. "Welcome stranger. I hope you find the power
to cure your children, but I think you'll not find it
here. Our own children sometimes acquire the wasting
sickness. I know of no cure. Perhaps you should go
further south," he suggested pointedly.

Ermonde nodded, "I fear you may be right. I am tired
from long riding which is unaccustomed to me. Perhaps
there is an Inn where I might rest?"

The warden paused then said, "Follow the main way. At
the Temple square take the second street to the left.
You will see the Inn of the Boar. That is where the
caravaners lodge when they are in the city. They will
have lodging for you and fodder for your mount."

"May all Gods protect you," Ermonde said as he spurred
his horse through the gate. Eyes followed him as he
cantered past them. At the Temple Square he paused,
glanced at the Temples, and then spurred his horse
down the street of the Inn.

Ermonde found the Inn, a simple building with a stable
next door. He left his horse with the stable boy and
entered the Inn. There were only a few souls in the
place. Behind the bar stood a bald, squat and very
ugly man. He looked Ermonde up and down and reached
his conclusion. "You need a room stranger?"

"Yes," Ermonde answered.

"Good. Are the rest of your companions joining you?"
he asked.

"I am alone."

"Too bad. I have more than enough rooms at the moment.
I can give you a beautiful room in the back for three
coppers a day," he said lavishly.

Ermonde smiled crookedly at the Inn keeper. "I'll take
an average room and offer one copper a day."

"Why Gentle Sir. That is robbery," he blustered.

Ermonde put his hand on the hilt of the curved
scimitar hanging at his belt and responded, "Good Sir,
I agree. One copper a day for a flee-infested bed is
robbery. I'll expect that to include dinner as well.
But I am tired and loath to haggle. One copper."

The Innkeeper's eyes glanced at his hand resting on
the pommel and swallowed. "Ah yes. It is true that I
am not very busy at the moment. Of course I would be
glad to have you as a guest at my hearth. Yes, it is
done. One copper a day." One of the locals laughed and
then chopped off the laugh as the Innkeeper glared his
way. "And may one inquire how long you will be with
us?"

"Only a day or so. I have come to consult with the
wise men of Kushakli about a cure for the children of
my people. If I can find no cure I must ride on."

"A noble cause," the Innkeeper said with a slight
smile. Ermonde glared at him. He returned the glare
with a knowing smile. "Yes, a noble cause. We must be
sure you get what you have come for, heh?"

"The room?" Ermonde reminded.

The Innkeeper came from behind the bar and led Ermonde
down a dark narrow hall. At the rear of the Inn he
opened a small door. Ermonde stepped through. The room
was barren except for a pallet covered with soft straw
under a woolen blanket. After so many nights on the
hard cold ground it looked like paradise itself to
Ermonde. There was also a small table with two rickety
chairs.

"Fit for a king," said Ermonde.

"Maybe I should ask three coppers then," said the
Innkeeper.

"Maybe I should sleep in the stable. It would probably
be better," said Ermonde.

The Innkeeper laughed, "Two coppers for that. But we
have made a bargain and I am loath to break my bond."
He held out his hand and Ermonde deposited a copper.

"Dinner?" Ermonde asked.

"At mid day," said the Innkeeper. "Which was hours
ago. But I have a haunch left if you don't mind."

"I could eat it raw." Ermonde threw down his bedroll
and followed the Innkeeper back to the main room. The
ugly troll of a man put parts of a greasy overcooked
bird in front of Ermonde along with stewed roots and a
bowl of bitter barley beer to wash it down. It tasted
delicious.

After his repast Ermonde walked to the Temple Square.
He came to the Temple of Ashtar, Goddess of Physical
Love, Patroness of prostitutes, Queen of pleasure and
the most beloved of the Gods by disciples of the
pleasures of the flesh. The temple was not very
impressive. Shaped as a ziggurat, it rose only a few
stories. Wooden, instead of solid brick, it was
already decaying. 

As Ermonde stepped over the threshold a priestess
appeared. "You are a stranger?"

Ermonde skidded to a halt. "Yes. I have come south
seeking wisdom. I wish to invoke the help of the
Goddess."

The priestess paused, then said, "Indeed, a noble
wish. But the Goddess requires a sacrifice. Have you
brought such?"

"No Reverend One. What would the Goddess desire?"
Ermonde asked.

The priestess scolded, "Of course the gift to the
Goddess should be worthy of her Majesty. Many bring an
ox or a goat. Even the poor bring a cock or hen to
invoke her good will."

Ermonde eyed the priestess through lidded eyes as he
bowed. The priestess had a gaunt and hungry look.
Ermonde guessed that a bird would be as welcome as
anything and much less expensive. "Where is the
market, Oh Reverend One?"

The priestess, with a hungry look, directed Ermonde to
the market. He was back in a nonce carrying a
squawking pullet. This time the priestess invited
Ermonde into the temple. Ermonde handed over the bird
and followed the priestess toward the center of the
temple. 

Ermonde's eyes were relentless in appraising the
temple furnishings. A few bare iron sconces held the
flickering lamps. The statue of the Goddess was terra
cotta, painted with garish colors. Murals of the
Sacred Prostitute, painted straight onto the wood
walls, were the only decoration in the temple. There
was no silver or gold to be seen. 

The priestess intoned the words of blessing, imploring
the Goddess to favor the supplicant, Ermonde. The
priestess held up the bird for the blessing of the
Goddess. With a quick twist she separated the head and
holding the bird tightly poured the blood into the
offering bowl at the foot of the Goddess. Ermonde was
sure the bird would be roasting on a spit shortly.

Ermonde cast one more glance around the temple looking
for any suitable items that might wish to free
themselves and accompany him when he left the city.
His eyes settled on the Goddess. Her face seemed to be
glowing in the dim air. He felt the hair on the back
of his neck rising. He had the distinct impression
that the eyes of the statue were alive and looking at
him. The very room seemed to buzz. He felt an impulse
to run but his boots seemed stuck to the floor. 

The priestess turned, breaking the spell, and Ermonde
let out a sigh as he began breathing again. The
priestess, happy now, intoned the ceremonial words,
"Ermonde. Your gift to the Goddess has been blessed
and accepted. The Goddess will bless you with Love." 

Ermonde's knees were weak and fearing they might give
out under him he bleated out, "Thank you, yes. May the
Goddess protect you." He turned and wobbled from the
temple. In the late afternoon sun, he felt
reinvigorated. He shook his head to clear it. "It was
just the dark," he mumbled to himself not really sure
if he believed it himself. The Goddess would have no
reason to take an interest in me, he thought.

He looked over at the Temple of Djues, King of the
Gods. His strength returned quickly in the clear sunny
air of the plaza. The Main Temple was similar in form
to Ashtar's, but larger. Its simple wooden structure
was unadorned and slightly shabby. The door to the
temple was half a man's height again larger than the
door to Ashtar's temple and five men wide. He was able
to stand outside and see the interior without having
to pass the priest-attendant guarding the door. The
interior looked as poor. The priest looked as hungry. 
Where is the wealth that should be in the great city?
Do not the people revere their Gods? 

Perplexed, Ermonde wandered back to the inn. Taking a
corner table in the inn he ordered a beer from the bar
maid. When she brought the tankard she asked, "Will
there be anything else?" and leant forward so that he
could see proof of her abundant charms.

Ermonde nearly spit out his beer. He paused holding
her eye with his and responded, "Nothing at the
moment. But perhaps later." 

"Do but mention my name, Sussi, and I will come to thy
beck and call," she said.

"Sussi," he said. "Yes, I think there might be
something later."

She turned and swayed sultrily back to the bar. The
Innkeeper glared her way. When she got to the bar he
leaned over and started to whisper furiously.
Occasionally his voice rose enough for Ermonde to
hear. "My daughter... Tramp... Spectacle... Your Mother..."
Through it all the girl looked bored as if hearing the
same words for the hundredth time. 

Slowly the Inn filled with locals wishing to fill
their bellies with beer before stumbling home for the
night. Ermonde listened, unobtrusively, to the
conversations around him. Nursing his second tankard,
Ermonde leaned over his table and said to a tipsy
guest at another table. "Ho, good gentle. I am a
stranger to Kushakli."

Interrupting, the man bellowed, "Ah yes. I can shee
you are. What do you in Kuss... Kushakli?" He upended
his tankard and poured as much beer into his beard as
he did into his mouth. 

His tablemates laughed at the beer pouring down his
chest and one slapped the table, "Don't waste it you
fool. You pour enough beer down you jerkin to get
another man drunk."

Slamming the tankard on the table, "I can out drink
any man in Kusssh... Kissha... Damn, in this city."

Ermonde smiling only slightly said, "I can see you are
a man who can hold his drink. Today, I paid homage to
the Goddess, Ashtar. I was surprised at the state of
the temple. Do your people not respect the Goddess?"

"Of course. I myself have coupled with many women in
worshipping the Goddess. Why I could do ten women in
one night if I had a mind to." His tablemates rolled
their eyes as smiles played across their faces.

Ermonde said, "I can see I have met a man of worth. So
tell me gentle sir, why are the Temples is such state?
I was almost offended for the Goddess at the lack of
finery to celebrate her gifts to man. Is there no
reverence to show how much we men receive from the
Divine Prostitute?"

The conversation quickly died at the surrounding
tables. One of the men, not yet carried away by the
ale leant forward and under his breath, "Hush. Such
talk bodes poorly for men. Stranger, here in Kushakli
are many devout men who worship the Gods. But here in
Kushakli, the nobles keep the wealth. Donations to the
Temple seem to wind up in their hands. And anyone who
expresses their zeal to defend the Gods too loudly
winds up in the copper mines, endlessly digging, until
they are too weak. Then they are tossed on the dross
and buried with it. Be careful, good sir." The man
downed his tankard, stood and made his way quickly
from the inn.

Ermonde leaned back in his chair as was about to speak
when a cold breath seemed to caress his neck. The
hairs stood on end. His back was to the wall and he
knew nothing was behind him, unless it was a trap. He
turned, but it was a plain brick wall. Settling in his
chair, he again decided to speak when another draft
hit him. Now the hair all over his body seemed to
stand on end. He looked up and in the smoking rafters
he saw two blazing blue eyes staring at him, smiling
at him, almost seeming to laugh at him. 

He was gaping at the ceiling when Sussi bumped the
table. It broke the spell and Ermonde looked at the
serving wench. "Will there be anything else?" she
asked in a low sexy voice.

Shaking his head to clear it, Ermonde glanced up
again. He saw a cat appear from the smoky corner of
the rafters and walk along one of the beams. The cat
stared down at him, its green eyes flashing in the
dark. Green? He would have sworn the eyes he saw were
blue. It must have been the cat's eyes he saw in the
gloom. His superstitious mind in turmoil he pondered,
the business of the Gods is dangerous business for a
man to interpose himself into.

Sussi again bumped the table. "Pardon," he said. "I
was thinking about the conversation."

"Think not on the Gods. They have their own destinies.
Think you on the gifts of the Gods to us. Especially
the Goddess. She showers us with fine gifts, does she
not?" Sussi leant forward to show Ermonde her fine
gifts.

"Yes, my girl. You are right. This is the greatest
gift. Perhaps I will be thirsty in a nonce, but I
shall have retired. How would I slake my thirst when I
am alone in my cell?" Ermonde smiled at Sussi.

She returned the smile, "Good stranger. A man should
not go thirsty in a land of plenty. Be assured of
that. One gift should be returned with a gift of equal
value. This is the way of the Goddess."

Ermonde reached into his pouch and flipped a small
gold coin on the table. "For tonight. I hope this will
cover my bill."

She scooped up the coin and it disappeared. "Oh yes. I
am sure the Goddess shall grant your wishes this eve."

Ermonde stood and wandered back to his room. He sat in
the semi-dark waiting, faint shadows cast by the
moonlight pouring in through the window. The room was
silvery in the moonlight. A few minutes later the door
opened quietly and a shadow slipped in. "Stranger?"

"Is it the Goddess?" he asked.

A tinkling laugh followed by, "Yes, the Goddess has
come."

Ermonde stood, the shaft of light from the window
highlighted him against the dark and the girl swept
into his arms. He wrapped her in his arms and they
kissed, softly at first then more passionately.

Her fingers found the leather laces of his jerkin and
began undoing them. He helped her, then quickly peeled
out of his pants and finished by throwing his boots
into a corner. While he was undressing Sussi had
skinned her dress off and stepped from her sandals.
They melted back into each others arms but now hot
skin was pressed to hot skin. His manhood, rampant,
pressed against her belly. She ground her pudenda
against his manliness.

Sussi pulled him with her as she lay on his pallet. He
covered her and her legs wrapped round pulling him to
her. He kissed her passionately. Having traveled long
his desire was great. His manhood was pressed to her
mount, his hips rolling back and forth rubbing over
her damp portal. Their breathing turned ragged. He
pulled his hips back, his manhood sliding down to find
her opening. Nestling into her, she moaned from the
sensation. A push and they were joined in the sacred
dance of Ashtar.

Ermonde was soon scaling the heights of passion and
Sussi was moaning from his vigorous piercings. The
pallet creaked under them as their motions became more
heated. He could feel her well grasping at his
manhood, milking it like a calf suckles at its
mother's teat. Her fingers dug into his back urging
him on, her hips surged up to meet his hips. He felt
the onset of climax and, as he had been taught,
released his mind to experience this moment of oneness
with the Gods. As he emptied himself into Sussi the
beatific peace of the Goddess filled his soul. A few
last shudders and he collapsed. He felt Sussi's
womanness continue to pulse around him as he slowly
shrank. 

Ermonde returned to Earth and consciousness of the
present. All Gods, he thought. This girl is an
experienced and superb devotee of the Goddess. She has
more than earned her coin this eve. 

Ermonde rolled to his side, "Thank you, girl. You have
certainly slaked my thirst this eve." 

She laughed and then said, "You had a great thirst,
Sir. I was most happy to slake it." She stood up and
collected her dress from the floor donning it before
turning back to him. "If you find yourself thirsty
again Stranger, do but crook your finger and I will
come." She quietly opened the door, glanced down the
hall and disappeared.

After Sussi left, Ermonde watched the moonlight slowly
change on the wall of his cell. Smiling in the soft
light of the moon Ermonde smiled and lazed in
contentment. Some vixen she is, to himself. He lay
with his arms under his head basking in the lassitude
and peace Ashtar grants her worshippers. Oh Greatest
of Goddesses, thank you for the wonderful gift you
give, he thought. A smile played on his face.

He waited for the moon to set, watching the light
slowly disappear from the window. Once the moon had
fallen below the rim of the earth, Ermonde roused
himself and quickly dressed. Instead of boots he
removed two soft leather sandals from his pack.
Soundlessly, he slipped from his cell and disappeared
through the stable. Keeping to the deepest shadows,
his ears alert to the sounds of the night, Ermonde
moved among the narrow alleys of the city always
headed toward the west. 

He reached a great avenue which separated the main
city from the palace. Crouching in the last of the
shadows he looked for sign of watchers. There were
none. Where were the palace guards? Did they not make
rounds? He waited but no sounds came to him.
Stealthily he crossed the avenue and approached the
wall of the palace. It was a bare rough rock and only
two man's height. Ermonde, accustomed to the scaling
of rocky cliffs in his homeland quickly slithered up
the wall. He lay still on the top listening for the
sounds of guards. Again it was silent. 

He dropped off the wall into a garden. Pulling his
scimitar from the sheath, Ermonde made his way along a
path in the garden. He found a path through the garden
and started to follow it. Right before a bend in the
path he heard the shuffle on feet and the creak of
metal. Looking around quickly, he spotted a bush and
jumped behind it. A guard rounded the bend lazily
walking in the night. He looked neither right nor left
as he followed the path. Too many nights had he done
these rounds for him to be wary. He walked past
Ermonde and then stopped. Ermonde readied his scimitar
thinking the guard had heard a noise or sensed his
presence. The guard stretched lazily and then
continued on. When the guard was out of sight Ermonde
exhaled deeply. Too close, he thought.

He waited a moment longer and then continued down the
path. It took him toward an outlying arm of the main
building. He saw a candle burning in one room.
Cautious but also curious and as to why someone would
be up so late he approached the window which was open
to let in the cooling night air.

A single candle was burning on a table by an opulent
bed. There was no one in the room. Sheathing his
blade, Ermonde heaved himself thru the window and
dropped lightly to the carpeted floor. Just then a
young woman came from behind a screen. She had on only
the sheerest of nightdress. She stopped startled by
the presence of an intruder in her room. She was
mystified but not particularly frightened. Palace life
had spared her confrontations with the seamy side of
life. Imperiously she asked, "What are you doing in my
room?"

Ermonde was stunned by the sudden appearance of the
lovely girl. She was fourteen or fifteen summers, her
midnight hair long, lustrous and straight falling down
her back. He could see her curves through the
diaphanous material of her nightdress. She was budding
into womanhood, just ready to marry. He said the first
thing that popped into his rattled mind, "Ashtar sent
me."

The girl's eyes widened and she gasped, "How quickly
the Goddess answers." Ermonde looked at her
questioningly. She continued, "I was just praying to
the Goddess to send me someone to teach me the arts of
love. But why you, a stranger?"

All of the bizarre events of the last day percolated
in his mind and quickly coalesced into a story. "Today
I made sacrifice to the Goddess. She appeared to me in
the smoke of the temple and said she had a duty for
me. I was to return to my Inn and wait. Then in the
middle of the night I was awakened by a cool wind that
blew from the ceiling of my cell. I awakened and the
most radiant eyes stared at me from the heavens. They
were a heavenly blue and seemed to half hidden by
smoke and yet there was no smoke in the room. A voice
said, `To the Palace. Now.' I followed those shining
eyes to this very window. They disappeared into the
flame of your candle. I did not know what the Goddess
wished." It was a story without a shred of truth, but
a wonderful story none the less

The girl's eyes continued to widen as he related his
story. She clasped her hands over her chest. As he
finished she said, "You are an instrument of the
Goddess. Oh, how wonderful. Even a Princess may feel
the desires of Ashtar."

"A princess?" he asked.

"Yes. Do you not know me?"

"As you say, I am a stranger to your city," he
answered.

"Oh yes. But why would the Goddess send a stranger?"
she asked.

"Princess..."

"Yasminde," she said.

"Princess Yasminde," he started. "It seems a good and
wise thing that the Goddess has arranged it so. As a
stranger I will leave this city soon. And with me,
goes any scandal. The Goddess wishes for you to taste
the fruits of love but to leave no tongues to wag the
tale about the city. You may take a vial of Ram's
blood to your wedding bed and none will be the wiser."

Yasminde laughed, "I have heard tales of brides taking
the blood of the wedding sacrifice as a token. But the
token was lost in the night, the blood being used to
stain their marital bed as proof of their lost
virginity. But men are not to know of this. Only
women."

Ermonde laughed with her, "Oh no, Princess. Men are
wise to the guile of women, even as we allow ourselves
to be caught in their traps."

Her face turned serious. "Stranger, servant of the
Goddess, what am I to do?"

"First, look not so baleful. The Goddess wishes only
pleasure in her servants," he said gently.

Her face brightened, "But I am affright and I do not
know what this night will bring. But I will trust the
Goddess that sent you to me."

"Come love, come to the bed," he said as he started to
pull his clothes off. Yasminde came to the bed, lying
on it and watching intently as he stripped his clothes
from his travel hardened body. His muscles rippled as
he drew his garb from him. Finally, his breeches were
removed. His manhood stood proudly. Her eyes were cast
upon it and would not move, as metal is drawn to a
lodestone and then caught in the mysterious web of the
lodestone's power.

Joining her on the bed, Ermonde leaned over her supine
form and brought his eager lips to hers. His hand
touched her belly which caused her to tremble. "Relax
little one," he said quietly. "Think on the Goddess.
Think only on the pleasure She promises." He felt some
of the tension leave the princess and she smiled
slightly. "Good. Let us worship this eve, worship the
pleasure that makes life worth the travails." Ermonde
lifted the hem of the sheer gown she wore and with her
help tore it from her body. Yasminde shivered in the
cool air blowing in through the window. He bent his
head and kissed around her small breasts and then
taking one breast into his mouth sucked her hardening
nipple in as he lashed it with his tongue. This time
she shivered from the pleasure of his touch.

Ermonde took his time, loving her breasts with his
mouth and tongue. Yasminde was breathing deeply now.
Ermonde placed his hand between her legs, parting
them, before stroking his fingers along her womanly
cleft. The air was quickly suffused with her scent.
Her hips moved to meet his pleasurable fingers which
were soon coated with her arousal. She is ready,
Ermonde said to himself.

He lifted himself and settled between her legs.
Placing his manshaft at the virgin entrance to her
grotto he said, "Sweet Princess, pray to the Goddess
for the pleasure only she can bring." His hips were
moving slightly, pressing himself against her, rubbing
up and down her cleft before returning to her
unbreached opening. His shaft was soon awash in her
arousal. He pushed and lanced into her breaking the
barrier of her womanhood. Yasminde cried out at the
sudden pressure and the prick of pain. Ermonde clamped
his mouth to hers afraid the noise would bring a
servant. He held himself motionless listening. But no
sounds came except the breathing of the princess below
him.

"Quiet little dove or we shall be discovered," he
said.

"Forgive," she said. "I was oer'whelmed for a nonce.
It is a thing not to be known until experienced." She
was pushing up against him now. He sank deeper into
her as she pushed against him. "Ayie," she said. "That
feels so `mazing. I can feel every smallest motion."

Ermonde withdrew a mite and then pushed forward
burying his manhood completely in Yasminde. "Oh," she
gasped as Ermonde withdrew and plunged into her again.
His passion so recently slaked by the serving wench at
the Inn, Ermonde felt no great hurry in his love
making. He settled into a slow and gentle rocking
motion. He used the slow and deep thrusts taught him
by the Priestess of Ashtar. Yasminde moved with his
thrusts accepting him deeply within her body. Her eyes
closed and her breathing became ragged as Ermonde
continued his deliberate stroking of his manhood into
her. He felt her rising toward the experience of the
Goddess and quickened his thrusts as she approached
her peak.

"Feel the Goddess," he whispered into her ear. "She is
come." He pounded now into her body which responded to
every motion with a thrust of its own. Their pudendae
mashed together making slapping noises in the quiet of
the room.

Yasminde threw her head back and cried, "Oh Ashtar,"
as she crested her peak. 

Ermonde felt her spasm and released his essences
emptying himself into the young princess. He slowed,
and then stopped as they both returned to the earthly
plane. Ermonde held her tightly as their breathing
slowed. Her eyes fluttered open, "Oh Stranger. You
have done it. I met the Goddess. She is Great."

He leant down and kissed her brow. "Worship her
mightily, Princess. The Goddess will always repay that
worship with pleasure."

She looked toward a small altar she had set in the
corner. "Thank you Great Goddess for sending this
servant of yours."

They lay together basking in the afterglow of sated
love caressing each other. Yasminde drifted off after
a while and Ermonde lay still enjoying the beautiful
young woman in his arms.

The dawn drew nigh and Ermonde heard the first calls
of birds in the still air. He slipped from the bed as
Yasminde stretched and awoke.

"I must go Princess. The Sun bearers chariot will soon
leap from behind the mountains," he said.

"Will you return, Stranger?" she asked.

"Ask the Goddess. I serve Her," he said.

"Yes. I must pray again," she said as she fell back on
the bed a smile playing on her face. "Most Great
Goddess, bless your daughter again."

"Princess," he said quietly. She leaned on her elbow
and looked his way. "The Goddess is most unhappy with
the state of her Temple. It does not befit such a
Goddess. Do you have a gift that I may take? A gift
worthy of this eve."

Yasminde looked thoughtful for a moment and then
bounced from her bed. She rushed over to a chest made
of the finest inlaid woods throwing it open and
dragging silks and other valuables from its depths.
"Here it is," she cried as she pulled a beaten silver
necklace, more valuable than gold, from the chest. She
held it up, the lapis lazuli and amethyst which
adorned the necklace, sparkling in the light from the
lamp.

Holding it up she came to Ermonde. "This was a gift
from the nobles when I become a woman. This eve you,
at the behest of the Goddess, have made me a woman.
Take it to the Goddess."

She laid it in Ermonde's hand. He looked with
unbelieving eyes at the riches in his hand. Just one
of the jewels being worth more than a peasant would
make in his entire life. The necklace was encrusted
with such jewels. Ermonde was rich beyond his wildest
dreams. He could become a gentleman with such wealth.
He could buy a house and servants and laze in luxury
for the rest of his life. 

"Princess, the Goddess thanks you. I must fly before I
bring ruin to you." He tucked the necklace into his
jerkin and went to the window. Half way through the
window he stopped and turned his head back. Yasminde
was standing, a look of longing on her face, a look
which almost overcame his fear of being caught. For a
moment he wished to stay. A noise from inside the
palace was enough to cause him to hurl himself out the
window. He disappeared into the dark.

He wended his way through the dark streets. As he
passed the Temple Square he felt eyes on him, unseen
eyes. Drawn to the Temple of the Goddess he entered. A
single lamp burned the last of the night's oil casting
gloomy shadows across the altar. Ermonde felt his feet
moving of their own accord as he was soon before the
statue. He knelt before the Goddess and then reached
into his jerkin and drew out the necklace. It
represented more wealth than ever his imagination
could have totaled. He wanted to jerk his hand back
and flee the Temple. Instead his hand moved forward.

A voice, a sensual feminine voice suddenly spoke,
"Mortal, I do not need your wealth. You pleased me
with your speech at the Inn. Go with my blessing."

When the voice spoke, Ermonde prostrated himself
before the Goddess expecting he knew not what.  There
was silence. He looked up but it seemed just a clay
statue. Unsure he rose to his knee. He picked up the
necklace. Hanging at the bottom was a great piece of
Lapis of the purest deepest blue. He pulled his dirk
from his belt and pried it loose from the silver. He
laid it on the altar of the Goddess. For a fleeting
moment he sensed more than saw the Goddess smile and
then the most feminine and alluring laugh he had ever
heard echoed in the temple. He was filled with longing
at the shivering sound and sheer presence of that
voice. The statue now seemed alive with a presence.
His heart was filled with longing. He was about to
crawl toward the statue when a noise from within the
Temple startled him back to consciousness of the
world. Frightened of discovery, he stuffed the
necklace back into his jerkin and speed from the
Temple.  

Ermonde ran the entire way back to the Inn. At the
Inn, he grabbed his pack and quickly and quietly made
his way to the stable. His horse whinnied as he
entered the stable. Quieting the great beast, he threw
his saddle on the broad back of the stallion. Mounted
he made his way toward the gate. 

He trotted past the palace just as dawn was breaking.
Ermonde paused and thought of the beautiful Yasminde.
What else could he get in return for spending the
night making love to her? But then the voice filled
his mind. How can a mortal ever compare with that
voice? He knew that he would be in love with that
voice till he dropped the mortal coil. He shook his
head and spurred his horse toward the South Gate
arriving as the gate was opened to the day.

Once outside the walls Ermonde continued south toward
the City Where the Two Rivers Meet, the richest city
in the world, Bashram. There the people worship the
Goddess completely. For a small donation the
priestesses of the temple welcome all worshippers in
the way of the Goddess of Corporeal Love. Every woman
of the city is required to spend one day in the temple
welcoming men that enter and worshipping the Goddess
as she should be worshipped, with legs spread and a
man between them crying out her joy for the gifts of
the Goddess. A man could grow to appreciate this type
of worship. And maybe, just maybe he would find the
lovely bearer of that voice. Feeling the necklace
against his skin he thought of the many donations to
the Goddess it contained. Yes, he would worship the
Goddess with a fever. He was gone before the sun was
fully above the horizon. 

As he crested the last hill he looked over his
shoulder. The city lay quiet in the still morning
light. A few fires were sending up smoke into the
morning air. He turned his horse and leaving the city
in his wake trotted over the hill a smile on his lips.



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