The Lamb Crossed Ishtar's Breath

The Lamb Crossed Ishtar's Breath

A shepherd's confusion during his first ritual for Ishtar

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Warning

This story contains explicit sex scenes in a religious setting. The themes includes oral sex, and use of psychoactive substances (sacred herbs). The boundaries of consent are (somewhat) explored. If these elements are not ok to you, please just stop reading.

The characters are adults.

I'm not a native English speaker.

Context: The story takes place in a temple dedicated to Ishtar, the complex goddess of love (and war), and it uses ancient symbols from Babylonian antiquity.

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The Young Shepherd Offering : the First Ritual

Ishtar's temple was a peaceful haven, lit by a few sunrays filtering through the claustras and casting patterns on the ground made of large baked tiles. The air was thick with olibanum smoke and myrrh, mixed with a softer fragrance of burnt cedarwood and dried petals. Low whispers of prayers, inconspicuous and rythmic, echoed sometimes like an ancient breath vibrating through the columns.

In the entrance room, an altar made of baked bricks carried the massive and tall sacred statues of Ishtar - she was invoked here under this name, but other called her the Mother with Open Arms, or even by other names.

Dunia, priestess of Ishtar, was seated on a carpet embroidered with star patterns, with a wool pillow dyed with indigo beneath her. She wore a light belted white tunic, leaving one shoulder and here arms bare-naked, adorned with hammered copper straps. Her deep black hair with few braids was tied up in a loose ponytail , and her warm smile emphasized the perfect-features face shared by all the women belonging to this sacred place. Her lips, luscious and naturally pinkish, held a quiet beauty.

Zariku, a young shepherd with a face burnt by the pasture sun, entered the temple with the restraint of a lost lamb. Newly arrived into adulthood, his light hair, thick like the wool of his sheeps, framed deep brown eyes full of innocence and curiosity.

His coarse wool tunic, a bit worn by the paths and the sun, contrasted with the quiet harmony of the holy place. He held in his hand his elm walking stick, polished by time - quite an anchor in this world of complex perfumes and holy stones.

He wanted to ask for a divination regarding his livestock. Guided by a devotee with an enigmatic smile, he had been directed to the third sanctuary where - he was told - he would be heard by Dunia, the one in charge of hearing requests and handling the offerings to the Goddess. When he first saw her, his cheeks turned deep red right away. She was so beautiful, looking so gentle...

The Pure Seed ritual

"Zariku of the faraway Pasture, be welcome", said the woman with a soft and musical voice. "I'm Dunia, priestess of Ishtar. You came to us for a sign, didn't you?"

Zariku nodded, his voice slightly wavering, unsure about the way to speak, or even if he belonged in such a location.

"Yes... I would like to know if my flocks will thrive this year. I was told... it needs an offering to Ishtar. I need my herd to live and breed. Without them, I'm nothing."

"That's correct. Ishtar is generous, but she needs a offering that comes from your very depths. Your seeds."

"My own seed? Really? In front of the Goddess?"

He had thought that a well-packed piece of cheese in palm leaves - or, why not, a healthy goat cub - would be be enough.

"The Goddess doesn't feed herself with dry flowers, with prayers whispered out of habits, or just from a bit of milk," explained Dunia. "She requires the lion's strength when he's hunting and the palm sap that reaches the sky. Your gift should be vivid, like the first fruit of the harvest."

The heart of Zariku hit his chest like a blacksmith strikes bronze. Of course, the young Dunia was splendid, almost unreal, and still quite soothing. But nothing could fully calm his turmoil in front of this unforeseen ritual, held in the middle of such a sacred place.

"I want to please the Goddess, yes!! But... I've never given anything like that. And what if my offering is not enough... plentiful? What if Ishtar only sees an unworthy shepherd?"

Dunia gave a soft laugh - a crystalline sound that chased away his confusion.

"Ishtar cherishes genuineness and delight, Zariku", she whispered, her eyes shining with an almost godly light. "She once let herself be touched by a shepherd... You're in your rightful place. Follow your instrincts. And don't worry, you're not alone during the ceremony. I'm here to accompany you through every step of these rites."

Dunia stood up and, with a supple gesture, removed her deep red tunic, revealing skin golden from the sun. Her breasts, heavy and proud, rose and fell with the rythm of her breathing.

"Relax. Ishtar is more responsive when her woreshippers are at ease... and when they are in good hands."

She came closer to Zariku until she was brushing against him, a hand on his chest, and then slid her lips next to his ear. Her fingers moved to the lined laced ties that held his clothes together. "Let me make you ready, young shepherd."

While his tunic was leaving the shepherd, his sex remained undecided, as if hesitating between the call of the passionate priestess and the fear of disturbing the holy harmony of a ritual too vast for him.

Seing this, Dunia took a couple of steps toward a table where the flames of a small copper brazier flickered, set with embedded moonstones. With a confident gesture, she opened a wooden box worn by time and took out a handful of dried herbs. Their unfamiliar scent tickled Zariku's nose right away.

"Breath deeply, and let the fire speak'', she said while throwing the herbs in the avid flames

A thick smoke, crossed with golden and crimson hues, rose in winding swirls. Zariku inhaled, first feeling the light pungency, then a sweetness that slowly spread through his lungs. With the second breath, his body loosened, as if wrapped in a serene cocoon. Yet, even as his mind was going at ease, his cock raised, thrilling with a life of its own, awaken by the herbs' magic.

The Chant of the Sacred Lips

Dunia then invited him to sit on a large ceremonial seat, covered in thick fabric, and a simple pillow embroidered with a lion was at his feet. She knelt before him, her deep dark eyes sunked into his, and she gently spread apart his legs to reach him more easily.

Now, Zariku, Ishtar will accept your offering through me. My lips will be her instrument, her channel, and your pleasure will be her blessing. Ready to let you carry out?

He nodded, feeling his arousal respond to the promising words of the temple woman. Dunia smiled and leaned forward, her lips coming near the cock that had stiffened by the aroma of the intoxicating herbs, the mesmerizing beauty of the young priestess, and the keen perspective of what was to come.

"Let go," she whispered, her voice vibrating. "Ishtar welcomes you."

Zariku closed his eyes, letting the sensation overwhelming him. With a deliberate slowness, Dunia wrapped his cock with her beautiful fleshy and warm lips, making him flinch with pleasure. Her lips slid down to the root of his impressive thickness, steady and throbbing, and after a suspended moment, her tongue began a patient exploration, caressing every veins, every contour.

"Oh, its... unbelivable", Zariku moaned softly. "I did not expect that."

Dunia, the living tool of the ritual, intensified her movements, her mouth was a prayer, every pressure of her lips a summoning. She did not answer directly, but first she laughed softly.

Ishtar loves longing. Ishtar knows that my beauty awakens this heat in you. Lust is not a diversion but a component of the ritual. Let it carry you to her, to her pleasure.

He blueshed. However, the eagerness within him was so strong, so genuine, that he could not restrain himself: his hands naturally found themselves resting on Dunia's shoulders, heightening the feeling of her sacred mouth. He immediately regretted this bold move, not knowing whether a worshipper had the right to such familiarity during the rite.

To his great surprise, she did not pull away at all. On the opposite, she pressed herself closer to him, her smooth body molding against his, as if to encourage him, and she let out a soft moan.

"You learn quickly. Your... enthusiam... makes the rite easy. The pleasure must be maximized... and your... size... contributes greatly to it", she gasped while tightening her grip around his cock. "Pleasure is a bridge to the divine. And ... your... structure... makes the bridge especially solid. And... delighful to cross."

She lifted herself slightly, just enough for her hand to slide gracefully to her own sex. Zariku watched her, fascinated, as she began to caress herself softly, in a rythm that was both her own and the ritual's. Her eyes, gleaming with lust, reflected the light of the brazier's flames. Her moist intime lips parted slightly, and her fingers, full of her own wetness, slid between them before disappearing inside. She penetrated herself, her face expressing obvious enjoyment.

Her lips, soft but firm, continued to work on his cock, like an ancient rhythm dictated by Ishtar.

"You're... you are so beautiful", he said, his voice filled with awe. "I... I cannot believe this is for me."

Dunia smiled. "It's for Ishtar, Zariku. And She wants both of us to be fullfilled. So, seize the moment."

Zariku gazed at her, captivated by this vision of a priestess who offered herself to the Goddess as much at to him.

She intensified the rhythm, her movements becoming more compelling, more urgent. He felt his arousal growing and his hands gripping her shoulders convulsively.

"I... I think that... I'm going to...", moaned Zariku.

"Let it go", she whispered, her voice warm and encouraging. "Ishtar welcomes you." Her mouth, both gourmand and devoted, felt to suck in not only the pleasure but also his doubts, his fears, every human feeling that he still harbored even unconsciously.

Zariku groaned, his entire body stiffening, and he unloaded himself with surrender into Dunia's mouth, the stunning cocksucker whose lips seemed to exist just for this moment. She swallowed everything without the slightest hesitation, her lips continuing the caress his member with infinite zeal and fondness, until the final waves of pleasure faded, leaving Zariku's organ satisfied and empty, as a fruit squeezed until the last drop.

After: the Blessing

Dunia stood up, a pleased smile illuminating her face, her senses fully aroused by the offering she had just collectd for Ishtar. Her eyes, now quiet but still deep, rested on Zariku with a motherly benevolence mixed with carnal satisfaction.

"Ishtar received your offering, Zariku", she said with a kind yet solemn voice. "May your herds multiply, and may the water run clearly on your path. And, who knows, maybe your beasts will be as vigorous as you!"

He smiled, his voice still shaking a bit from the pleasure. "Thanks... thank you so much, Dunia. I did not expect it to be so ... so intense."

She laughed and looked at him with a tenderness that made him blush.

"*Ishtar delights in pleasure, and she loves to give the faithful what they need. I'm pleased you liked it. And I, too, enjoyed this pleasure. Performing this ritual with an awesome and enthusiastic young man like you, it was almost too easy. You were a ... generous offering."

Zariku turned even redder, incapable to deny the attraction he felt toward the skillful young priestess, a blend of divine grace and earthly charm.

"I... I should go", he stammered. "But... I would like to thank you. You are... you are truly unique."

Dunia smiled, tilting her head, her eyes parkling warmly, her dark braids quivering.

"Unique? Oh, Zariku, you know how to flatter a priestess. Take care of yourself, and watch your herds. Ishtar will watch after you."

He nodded, slipped back into his tunic, and then stood up. Before crossing the sanctuary's threshold, he turned back a last time, their gazes locking in a moment of sensual complicity, a shared smile passing between them.

"Goodbye, Dunia", he said, his voice firmer now.

"May the breath of Ishtar envelop you, Zariku. And if the Lady of the Moonlit Eyes decides so, She will bring you back to me again."

He stepped out of the sanctuary and walked as if in a dream, his heart light, his senses still imbued with Dunia's scent, with sensuality and the brazier's flames.