The Ambassadress

This story is the prequel to my earlier published tale 'The Librarian'. It is my attempt to imagine and articulate a consistent alternative sexual ethos more compatible with my own erotic inclinations. Whether I have succeeded in rendering this a plausible alternative, I leave to the reader (if any are in fact intrepid enough to bear with this LONG excursion into my preferred theology).

This is LONG and may not reward the more casual reader. But it has been my pet project for a number of years and, if nothing else, its (hopeful) publication will free my pen from the continually nitpicking editorial compulsion to revisit it.

There is no need to first read my earlier 'The Librarian' or 'Garden Tour' (which deal with the same imagined ethos) and, in fact, the other two may be more accessible if you read this first.

The Ambassadress

I sit in the antechamber of the AhnIe's audience room. I have come here as an ambassadress from Queen Elanor of the Gaels, bearing salutations from the Great Queen of the North to this obscure backwater principality (is it even a principality?) of Nymnia in the depths of southwestern Geathalia. But beyond salutations, I am embarrassed to have no further instructions beyond "meticulous observation and complete and objective reporting" (to quote Elanor's sardonic official instructions) "on the customs and practices of Nymnia and its peoples".

I say, 'sardonic' because Elanor's interest in Nymnia has about as much to do with diplomacy as a chicken with astrology, and I am no more an 'ambassadress' than a butcher is a brain surgeon. Before being dragooned into this mission, I was (and still am, I hope to prove) an historical anthropologist and archivist. I deal with ancient texts in the royal libraries, not original 'field work'.

I have been sent here to confirm and hopefully chronicle the strange reported doings of the Nymnians and their goddess worshiping ways. The women in the village I stayed at last evening say I have come at a good time; they say "the Spring Trials" will be held soon. It's unclear whether this trial or trials is a 'ceremony' in its own right, or just some sort of preparation for the Summer Euios that occurs in August each year. The village women seemed a bit cautious with details; exchanging knowing glances and giving me tight smiles whenever I pressed too hard regarding what goes on. This is understandable. The Euios, by common report, is an orgiastic ritual or perhaps festival. If these "trials" as they call them, share a similar theme, well... Like many relics of the barbarous past, such practices, though still apparently tolerated, likely do not inspire any great national pride. I hope the priestesses here at the temple will be less circumspect.

The art adorning the temple certainly does not display any reticence in matters sexual. Setting aside the initial discomfiture at seeing such things depicted so blatantly in a public forum, dispassionate analysis suggests at the very least a rich sexual symbolism surrounding the goddess. There are repeated themes and iconic images, postures, representations. These things are fascinating as a matter of comparative theology, but Queen Elanor's insistence I come to investigate is motivated by a far more visceral level of curiosity.

Ever since she spent an evening listening to one of her regimental captains recount his supposed experience as a participant in the Summer Euios, she's wanted to know how much, if any, of what the man told her is true. I heard his story only second hand and my impression is either the fellow was seduced into pornographic exaggeration by Elanor's receptiveness to such tales, or my Queen, in her own enthusiasm, expanded somewhat upon his report in the retelling. I am less certain of that now, having seen the various erotic depictions in statuary, frieze and fresco in the temple gardens and courtyards.

Either way, whether true or fabricated, Elanor found much to her liking in the man's stories; they suited her own not entirely discrete tastes for erotic amusement. As an archivist in the royal library, I'm not in a position to know for sure what does or doesn't go on in Elanor's private chambers. But rumors about the Queen's amorous appetites and exploits... well, they are what they are. In any event, her majesty insisted I travel to Nymnia and bring her back a detailed report (her emphasis).

I can imagine the sort of 'details' she'll find most rewarding.

So why send me; an historian/anthropologist/clerk? Apparently, my major qualification, beyond literacy, is my gender. Elanor, whatever other uses she may have for them, doesn't trust men. I am not particularly pleased with this assignment; already I feel more like a voyeur than an ambassadress, and I am unsure whether, whatever may occur, my rendition of "the doings of Nymnia" will be able to satisfy my sovereign's prurient interest. I am not an embellisher or novelist and have no intention of dressing things up for purposes of titillation. I did my best to convey these reservations to her majesty. But with princes one cannot pick and choose. So here I am.

The tales of Nymnia, and of Nymnian women in particular, range from the merely titillating to the lurid. The 'wives of Nymnia' are famed, or infamous, for having discovered the secret to almost foolproof contraception through use of the Roha; an herb supposedly revealed to the first High Priestess of Ishea, or "AhnIe" as they call her, by the goddess Ishea herself. Freed from concerns of unwanted pregnancy, and, from a husband's perspective, suspicious paternity, the sexual mores of Nymnian women (and men) are the stuff of erotic legend, but surprisingly little hard knowledge. The rites and rituals of the goddess, the "celebration" of her gifts, are supposedly a "duty" imposed on all Nymnian women. I suspect this is likely some version of divinely sanctioned, or ritual forced prostitution. Who can say how such things ever get started, but it is, reportedly, considered blasphemous and impious in the extreme for a husband, or any man, to interfere with or even criticize the activities of Nymnian wives "honoring" the goddess.

This much, at least, is reliably reported in Recidera's Green Codex and some preserved fragments of the Frisal Annalist. Recidera discretely omits graphic particulars as to what "honoring the goddess" entails, and it is probable the Annalist actually visited Nymnia. But these generalized references have been around for centuries and would hardly have prompted Elanor to mount an expedition absent the enthusiastically lurid tales of her regimental commander. Rumor has it she immediately assigned the man to her personal guard. The implications of such an assignment might be sniggered at were it not that sniggering at princes can be a catastrophic, sometimes even fatal, career blunder if overheard by the wrong pair of ears at court.

In this respect, I keep my opinions to myself. I have mastered the restraint required of life at court; a requirement even for one in my modest and largely non-public capacity. What I think of this "expedition" is not relevant to my duties; duties which I intend to fulfill in a professional manner and produce a detailed but objective report that can be consulted by future archivists with confidence in its accuracy. It is the only course available that can keep this assignment from degenerating into prurient farce at my expense. Even before my departure, as word of my mission got around among my colleagues, there was innuendo and sniggering. Particularly the male archivists; their reactions were so sophomoric. Do men really find such buffoonery titillating, or is it just that when titillated, men invariably turn into buffoons? I did not ask for this assignment, but I certainly don't intend to be intimidated or shamed by it either.

My observations, thus far, are limited but largely unremarkable. The Ie and its temple are physically impressive, and the carvings and frescoes decorating its walls, as well as the statuary in the gardens, manages somehow to be both naturalistic yet iconic; an odd mix of formality and blatant pornography. Sorry, there is really no other word for it, regardless of whatever other symbolic or cultural functions it may serve.

And yet, the temple servants are unassuming. Both the men and the women at the temple wear finely woven green silk robes tied simply at the waist with knotted cord to one side; the men's cut just above the knee, the women's mid-calf. They are light weight and flowing garments, offering an occasional, suggestive silhouette of well-turned limbs and bodies beneath, but though somewhat revealing because of their light weight and cling, they are by no means sheer or otherwise provocative; certainly not in comparison to the trussed up and painted prostitutes and "boys" of the court and town in Gaeldon. Perhaps, these temple 'servants' are not prostitutes at all, sacred or otherwise. Elanor will no doubt be disappointed with that.

The daily activities I've seen thus far have been entirely mundane as well. That goes both for here at the temple and for the activities in the villages and countryside. Perhaps, because I am an outsider, they are simply not as open about things. But other than the women being somewhat more outspoken than would be acceptable in Gaeldon, the household that entertained me last evening, I must confess, seemed disappointingly ordinary; though, admittedly, I did not press them with any inquiries. The husband, the wife, the children... all very hospitable; but no one accosted me or... I'm not sure what I was expecting, really. Hearing I was traveling to the Ie to consult with the priestess, there seemed to be some reticence to answering any questions regarding what specifically occurs at the ceremonies and it seemed rude at that point to press on any further. Though, as an anthropologist and historian, I would never sensationalize matters, Elanor will be disappointed if all I can report is that the Nymnians are fond of well-done pornographic visual arts.

Yet that is the one area where I must confess some trepidation that I will be accused of exaggeration, even if I were to present a completely accurate report. The frescoes and statuary, at least, live up to the reputation of this place. The gardens, temple grounds and courtyards are filled with the stuff. I have given up recording further descriptions and impressions of it. You would simply have to see it to find it credible that such exquisite craftsmanship could be squandered on such mundane subject matter. One or two evocative pieces would serve the purpose as well; but whole courtyards and friezes of the stuff? While the stylistic variations and execution are diverse, even imaginative and all superbly rendered, once one overcomes the initial novelty of seeing such things represented as sacred art, the themes are simply repetitive.

Admittedly, that doesn't detract from their cumulative effect on the visitor; they are difficult to ignore and definitely create an atmosphere of graphic eroticism that has infiltrated even my determined attempt to remain a neutral and objective observer. I am professional enough, however, to recognize and separate my own reactions from the objective merits and demerits of such artistic representations.

I am aware that my own sexual experience is circumscribed by my refusal to marry and the modest, I hope relatively a-sexual personae I strive to maintain at court. I have seen far too many career-threatening complications arise for women who allow themselves liaisons and intrigues. So, it is clear I need to be on guard against the novelty, at least to me, of such blatant representations, and the unaccustomed thoughts they trigger. But I am a mature woman with a broad general experience of anatomy and sexual practices derived from my readings of illustrated medical texts and the occasionally explicit passages in some of the older epics in our collections.

I do not, of course, bother myself with the pornographic poetry, etchings and other materials in the Kermer archive and I steer clear of banquets, parties or other court outings where the Lords, warriors and hangers on at court invite and sometimes even debauch women or boys. Even to be present at such affairs, for a woman of non-noble standing like me, at least, is an invitation to rape or worse. Yet I have seen naked men and women (several in fact) and I did have one man, once, when I was young, before I determined upon a career as a scholar, who...

But that is all irrelevant. Art such as this can still be evaluated objectively and subject to anthropological scrutiny without regard to strictly personal reactions.

For example, take this larger-than-life fresco here on the wall across from me in the AhnIe's formal antechamber where I am patiently cooling my heels waiting for an audience. I have nothing else to do at the moment, so let me examine it with an eye toward symbolic and anthropological analysis.

There is clearly a symbolic and even theological structure to the work. Even if I had not seen many of these specific elements before, this would be an obvious conclusion given its location here in the formal antechamber to the audience hall and its placement directly across from the cushioned seats where visitors must wait. It is obviously intended to be seen and to convey a message... of sorts.

The woman at the center of the composition must surely represent Ishea, the great goddess of the Nymnians. This can be deduced not simply because this is her temple, but because of the seeming ease of her posture, expression and body in the midst of a scene which is otherwise... hmm, general characterizations fail. She possesses a certain air of... not really serenity or detachment, but something... She is a center of calm in a storm that swirls around her; her features composed; the wisp of a half amused, half indulgent smile on her lips. Her dark eyes give the remarkable illusion of being focused alternately to her right, her left or downward on the various activity around her, as if drawing or inviting the viewer's attention, now here and now there, to bear witness to what she has wrought. She is naked and unadorned except for a long strand of pearls (a motif I have seen before in other images) which snakes suggestively down between her breasts. She is depicted as mature yet not old, her body not idealized, the breasts of average proportion, not high like a young girl's but beautiful none the less, her belly softly rounded and descending to where...

Gods! You can almost feel the young man's chin pressing up against the plump mound, you can see the flesh give way as his eager tongue parts the soft folds of her vulva. She straddles his face in sixty-nine, sitting upright with that calm, wistful smile on her face while he works to pleasure her. The male under her is on his back, his feet towards the viewer, his fist clutched tight around the shaft of a flushed, erect penis of improbable proportions. He ejaculates up onto his chest and stomach, sending a stylized arc of bright white semen up from the purple glans above his fist to add to the pools already glistening on his torso.

The perspective here is actually quite remarkable, one almost feels as if you could just step up and... anyway. The goddess smiles calmly as she watches her tribute accumulate on the altar of his prone body and...

Uumhn, yes, alright. Let's maintain perspective here. That does seem to be the symbolic import though; his body as some sort of altar; because his isn't the only contribution to the... hmn, I suppose in this context the correct word might be 'offering'? Some such idea must be intended, because, despite the realism of the anatomical depiction, this is surely not representational in any strict sense, but some idealized, paradigmatic scene. This is evident from the remaining elements of the composition.

Standing on either side of her, framing her, are two other young men, naked with erect penises who are ejaculating in unison, sending their semen out and down onto the prone figure beneath her to mingle with his. The goddess raises her hands to either side and cups their testicles in her palms as if gently coaxing them to release their seed.

This is a clearly iconic representation of the goddess' sexual power; neither of the standing men are touching themselves. Unlike the man beneath her who is clearly masturbating, these two are depicted ejaculating just at the touch her hands on their scrotums. Great trick if you can do it, I suppose, but...

For just a moment I am distracted again by the lovely vision of that tongue sweeping through the soft folds; the young man's chin lifted, his head back as he strains to pleasure her even as the penis clutched in that strong hand...

Yes, well, there is something evocative about that, isn't there? No use pretending that doesn't tweak a sympathetic nerve between my own legs. But try to stay focused on the anthropological implications here because, really, objectively, it's such an odd mix of the iconic and the naturalistic. Perhaps that is really part of the message. The goddess is the calm at the center of this sexual storm; her two hands lifted symmetrically, looking straight ahead despite the uncanny illusion of her wandering gaze. If you took away the three males around her, she could almost be one of those simple, stylized statuettes of the goddess Impath, her arms raised in ritual greeting. And there is something obviously ritualistic, too, in the tripartite, simultaneous ejaculation of her male worshipers. While I have not personally witnessed real men ejaculate, I do understand the process from my readings and, based on that, the theatricality of this simultaneous and (are we to assume?) spontaneous effusion of semen seems pointedly overdone. A bit ridiculous, really, unless redeemed by some artistic or theological motive.

But getting back to the contrasting stylistic elements; unlike the goddess, the male figures seethe and strain with particularized ecstasy. These are not stock figures, but individualized depictions of ecstatic release. Both of the standing males look to be in their twenties and generally well proportioned, but beyond that are dissimilar in build and in their bodily and facial reactions to orgasm. The one on her left is somewhat stocky and broad shouldered. This is accentuated by his raised arms, his hands locked behind his head, his elbows wide so his chest is open like the spread of a cobra hood. His knees are bent and he is up on his toes as he opens his thighs, seemingly straining to offer his testicles to the goddess. His penis is artistically exaggerated; a thick, straight, cylindrical ram rod with a bulging glans that ejects his semen in a white rope. He has his head down, mouth half open with an expression of mild agony, watching his seed erupt as if fascinated or startled by the response of his body to her touch.

The other standing male is taller, leaner and darker in complexion. He is positioned more in profile; hips rolled under, hands at his side. His head is turned towards the viewer, his expression slack with pleasure. He seems to be focused on the prone man's ejaculation even as he releases his own. Unlike the ramrod straight form of the other standing male's, his penis rises in a graceful upward arc above the goddess' hand so that, with his hips rolled under, his semen shoots straight up. There is even a generous gob clinging to the front of the curved shaft as if a previous spurt had risen then come back down and landed there.

Details such as this might go unremarked in a smaller composition, but the figures here are at least twice life size and the detail is meticulous and obviously meant to be... appreciated.

But hold on, I was onto something a bit ago. That's right. This exercise in individualized anatomy and characterization. Don't be a ninny, distracted by the silly penises themselves. It's just a picture, a representation. And the artist rendered them each so distinctly, these young men and their imaginatively outsized and prolifically spouting appendages, to make a point. What was it? I had it just... Otherwise this is all just gratuitously extravagant but not very imaginative smut. It was... It was... something about the contrast... yes, that's it!

The contrast between the mundane and chaotic world of human experience (represented by the males) and the serenity and timelessness of the goddess. That's right. I need to get this down before I forget it! Too easy to be distracted by my own overreactions to mere details; there'll be time for my own imaginings later if I care to indulge them. But right now, I need to get this down before it slips away again.

I reach for my leather satchel on the bench beside me, open it and pull out my notebook and pencil.

'Anteroom fresco; female goddess central, classic upraised arms pose [check similarity to reference objects, Ophelius plates likely source]. Three males, particularized throes of ecstatic pleasure. She is merely observant, unperturbed. She is the'

The, the,... how to say this correctly? The, the,

'unmoved center from which the elemental force propagates,' yes, yes, 'rippling out to disturb and overwhelm the particularized mortal creatures around her. Like a great stone dropped in a still pool, she'

Head down over my notebook, I am somewhat startled by the sound of the door from the audience room opening.

At last, I am being ushered in. Who knows what the hold-up has been?

I lift my eyes expecting to see the servant who brought me here and took my diplomatic papers into the audience room almost forty minutes ago now. Closing my notebook, I put on my best, patient, diplomatic 'I have not been inconvenienced' smile.

A middle-aged woman and a young man walk through the doorway from the audience chamber. The woman is not the willowy, auburn-haired woman who took my diplomatic papers. I don't recognize the young man either. They enter, incongruously holding hands, chatting excitedly in low voices. They don't seem to notice me, as if not expecting anyone to be here.

They seem an odd couple; her tied back hair is streaked with grey and the laugh-lines in the corner of her eyes show distinctly as she smiles, beams really, at him. In contrast he is boyishly young looking. I reflexively glance back briefly at the young males in the fresco and the clearly more mature goddess figure. Perhaps just coincidence but...

They look flushed, disheveled and somehow relieved. Focused intently on one another as the door closes behind them, they have yet to notice my presence. She pauses, pulls him to her, kisses him lightly, one would almost say approvingly, on the mouth and

"You did well." she beams at him. "You'll get a place, I'm sure."

"Thank you, m'lady." he replies with what seems an out of place formality for such evident familiarity.              

The pair are dressed in the green silk robes of the temple and its servants. As they turn and advance into the chamber, they suddenly notice me sitting on the other side of the room. They both seem somewhat startled. The woman releases the young man's hand and they exchange a quick, questioning glance between them.

I am not "in uniform" so to speak; I'm wearing the formal dress and diplomatic cloak appropriate to my ambassadorial role. My attire, and probably my pale complexion, mark me out as being "from away". These two have a flush that I might euphemistically construe as "post-celebratory". But perhaps my imagination is working overtime, prompted by my recent examination of the fresco across from me.

I smile at the couple.

They smile back but are silent, seem almost bashful. I have apparently intruded upon something they had no expectation an "outsider" would observe. Their reticence fuels mine and I can't formulate an opening comment, my Geathalian still a bit rusty. So, after an awkward moment more, they nod politely and hurry off through the door I came in through from the temple colonnade.

As soon as they are gone, I realize I should probably have asked to interview them. The worst that could occur is they might refuse. That is, after all, why I'm here; to gather information. But the encounter did not seem conducive to give and take, and my curiosity might be construed as inappropriate given their surprise at my presence and the apparently semi-intimate dishevelment of their appearance. But then, they were coming from the AhnIe's formal audience chamber; how intimate could anything occurring there have been?

For just a moment, that question unsettles me. I glance back up at the fresco, the males depicted there not terribly different from that young man who just...

Oh, come on! Get a grip, Laura. Whatever else goes on elsewhere on the premises, this is the official audience chamber of the AhnIe, chief priestess to the goddess Ishea upon Ie, not the back room of a brothel. I am really letting my imagination get the better of my professional judgment here. So...

What's the hold up? A minute passes.

Nothing. Just the silence and this absurd fresco and its enforced voyeurism, all in masterfully rendered perspective mind you, up between that prone young man's open legs as he...

Is there some problem with my papers, or is this sort of delay common!?

Calm now; irritation won't help. Part of the job. Come to think of it, I've seen plenty of ambassadors and others kicking aimlessly about the outer doors of the King's audience hall in Gaeldon for hours waiting to be admitted on a busy day. But I am the only one here! It's not as if there were some great press of business this backwater priestess has to attend to.

About the fresco, I've lost my train of thought. Oh yes, fine; I remember now; the contrast. I've got enough of it down to recall later. But seriously, that male on his back that way, that's really 'in your face', as my nephew might say, and I'm not sure the blatancy of it can really be redeemed by any amount of artistic mastery of atmosphere and naturalistic detail. At a certain point, even absolute mastery is simply squandered on... on...

So, granted, just for argument's sake, the prone male, the depiction of bodily urgency here is admittedly palpable; the feet drawn upward slightly, the toes curled up and back, knees splayed to open the taut thighs, the buttocks clenched tightly lifting the...

His penis is almost purple... do they really get that way? I've heard 'flushed' to describe the... the, but especially the glans jutting up there over his fist, so dark and it...

Circumcision, yes, I had read that, obviously practiced here like the rest of Geathalia. I had noticed that on some of the other scuptures and depictions. And the way he grips it; the muscles in his forearm and... definitely masturbating, making himself...

I know they do that, especially the young ones. Eschelius' treatise says it is a healthy practice. He certainly seems healthy, yes, and his balls, er, scrotum or testicles would be the proper word... and I have noticed this on other depictions, but the way he's... presented here it's an unavoidable observation; no hair on these and... That is surely a bit of artistic license for the purpose of not obscuring the, the... the uhm, size of those and the scrotum stretched taut between them across the root, drawn up on either side, full and... I mean the shape of them so well-articulated. No, you couldn't get that effect if there was hair, so the artist must have... and you can almost sense the urgency in them, as if you took them in your hand, you would feel the pulse of pleasure feeding that thick burst up the shaft as he excitedly works it and...

"The AhnIe will see you now."

Shit! What the...? I startle and my pencil clatters to the floor.

The willowy auburn-haired woman is standing right there and I'm, I'm...

"Oh, I'm sorry." I say, but shit! The sneaky little twerp! I can feel the color rise to my cheeks as I reach down and fumble awkwardly to retrieve the pencil from the tiles. "I, I didn't hear you come in." I say, head mercifully still down. "I was just, uhm..."

Gods! What must she think? And what was I thinking... it just. Deep breath, deep breath. I mean, the goddamned thing is right there and it's not like you can...

I sit back up. Even though I know she can't possibly know what was going through my head it just...

Smile, stupid, just smile!

I smile. "I was just admiring the uh..." get a grip. She's a servant, you don't need to explain. But I can still feel the heat in my cheeks.

She raises an eyebrow at me, glances quickly over her shoulder at the fresco, then turns back. "Yes." she says easily. Then, "The AhnIe will see you now." she repeats patiently as if, perhaps, I had not heard her the first time, and bows just slightly.

"Thank you. Of course." I say, turn and put my notebook and pencil back in my satchel, then pick it up and rise.

The servant smiles pleasantly. "Follow me, please."

Laura; Introductions

She leads me into a large but simply furnished chamber and presents me to a plain, middle-aged woman sitting in a high-backed chair by an open window. The AhnIe is flanked by two fortyish (one maybe oldr still) looking women, also seated, who smile at me disinterestedly but don't say anything when I'm introduced.

The furnishings of the chamber are rather incongruous. The three women sit in a line facing me as I enter, but other than this alignment, things are hardly arranged for a formal reception. There are small tables beside each of their chairs with an odd assortment of glass vials, hand towels (some apparently already used) and empty cups on them. There is another low table off slightly to one side piled with more vials of what look like bath oils or perfume and a stack of folded hand towels similar to those on the side tables. There is a thick carpet on the floor in front of the line of chairs that seems somewhat out of place in the otherwise austere, if cluttered, decor. Odder still, there is a collection of large to medium sized pillows and a low bench or table of some sort with a thick throw draped over it that seems to have been pushed off to one side in a haphazard fashion, as if they were spare furniture or misplaced items waiting to be removed. The air smells vaguely of sweat and some earthy scent like mown grass, as if the chamber, despite the open window, had been insufficiently aired. The impression overall is one of casual disorder and...

This is the audience chamber of the high priestess of Ishea?

My mind goes to the couple who exited here just before I was ushered in. What exactly...?

The servant announces me; "Laura, Ambassadress of Her Majesty Queen Elanor." and then goes to stand behind the AhnIe's chair.

"Yes." is all the AhnIe says.

Except for the string of pearls around her neck, the AhnIe herself seems pretty ordinary. The pearls are a bit of a jolt after the fresco in the anteroom and for just a moment I get the absurd collage of the goddess' face from the fresco superimposed on the AhnIe's features and there is this... just drop it, Laura! I mean, look at her. Certainly, without the pearls, there'd be no way to distinguish her from the other two women sitting on either side of her.

The AhnIe directs me with a faint gesture of one hand to sit in a chair opposite the three of them, nods when I begin to move in the correct direction and smiles... sort of.

I sit.

She looks back down at her lap where my letters of introduction lay open upon her knees and reads.

"Another tourist." the AhnIe smirks pleasantly as her eyes peruse the letters in her lap.

"Excuse me?" I say, not having expected her to speak just then, though it does register she's just dismissed me as...

"Another tourist." she repeats, folds the letters back up and hands them back to the woman who ushered me in. She turns back towards me with a thin smile, waiting silently as the servant crosses the short space and returns my papers before going back to her position behind the AhnIe's chair.

I busy myself returning my papers to my satchel as I am not quite sure what the appropriate response is to...

"Well, at least you're a woman." the AhnIe says with a not entirely approving shrug.

She is in her forties, maybe fifty, dark hair streaked with grey, brown eyes, handsome features, perhaps not as ordinary as she at first appeared. She wears the same well made, fine silk robe that all the other temple servants wear.

"Well, I'm," I try not to be offended, but I am sure the letters were clear, "I'm an anthropologist, actually. I'm sure Queen Elanor's letters..."

"A tourist who takes notes." the AhnIe concedes and this gets a smile from one of the two women with her.

The three of them are sitting in a row just ten feet from me. I'm trying to read whether this is a hostile reception, but I'm not picking that up... quite.

"Doesn't your queen have enough local fare to titillate and entertain her at court?" the AhnIe asks. Somehow it is not an entirely sarcastic question.

"AhnIe," I must be diplomatic, "as her majesty's letter says, she has heard somewhat of your customs here, and is very interested in knowing what actually goes on. Depending upon my report, her majesty may even want to explore welcoming the goddess and her rites to Gaeldon, founding a temple to Ishea in..."

I am just part way into my official pitch here, and they are all laughing.

"Forgive us." the AhnIe says after a moment. She smiles at me warmly like she sympathizes with me for having to spout this diplomatic shtick but, "That's nonsense, of course."

"Nonsense?" I sputter (I hate it when I sputter).

"I wasn't meaning to be critical by the 'titillation' comment." the AhnIe continues easily. "That's certainly one of the blessings the goddess provides. And I'm not against tourism either..."

"But, your holiness," I begin to object...

"Holiness?" the AhnIe baulks. "I should hope not!"

Apparently, I have offended, but I'm unsure how.

"Perhaps you should just..." the woman sitting on the AhnIe's right holds up a hand, waves it gently, "listen." she finishes with a kind, if somewhat condescending smile.

I close my mouth. Unsure what I was about to say anyway, so perhaps I'll just listen. But they must know...

"Whatever you may have heard, Laura," the AhnIe pauses slightly after speaking my name, then continues, "our 'customs', as you call them, are not just occasional holidays. Celebrations like the high summer Euios or the Trials... that, I presume, is what you've come to see, hmm? The Spring Trials?" she asks but doesn't pause for an answer, "... though each only occurs once a year, they are not just isolated entertainments; though I'm sure you'll agree, they make wonderful entertainment. Nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, yes. I understand, they are sacred mysteries and..." I begin, hoping to exhibit due deference to...

"Oh, please!" the woman to the AhnIe's right breaks in once more, rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Sacred mysteries?!" she repeats with a groan. "Could you just let the AhnIe..."

"Dora," the AhnIe lays a soothing hand on the woman's forearm, "it's just worm talk. She doesn't know any better."

"I'm sorry, I..." begin to apologize though I have no idea what I may have...

"No, no, not at all." the AhnIe waves this off. "If you already knew all this, you wouldn't be here asking." she glances sideways at Dora, "Would she?" she asks rhetorically.

Dora sighs, looks aside, "There's two more waiting." she says under her breath, without specifying two more of what.

This gets a soft laugh from the woman sitting on the AhnIe's left. "We'll get to them, Dora. Patience." this third woman says.

I get the impression I've interrupted something and am out of sync with the dynamics here. I'm happy when the AhnIe resumes her discourse.

"To follow the goddess is a way of life, a way of organizing everything, not just a few days of feasting and games. So, putting up a temple to Ishea in Gaeldon would be worse than useless; your gods would never allow it, let alone your men who have made the gods in their image. It would be a parody. Even with what little you know, you must recognize that. Right?"

The AhnIe asks, but doesn't pause to let me answer.

"But that's why there's such a burning curiosity to see 'how it's done'!" she enthuses; and once again I am unsure whether it is sarcasm I'm hearing. But she continues in the same vein. "It's so alien and exotic! Isn't it?" she pauses, sighs, but again, doesn't wait for an answer. "Well, it is, I suppose. The goddess grants to the women of Nymnia privileges and pleasures that to you must seem scandalous and absurd. But that's only because you don't see or understand the obligations, the limitations, the expectations that come with them, in fact, make them possible. The men of Nymnia are not slaves, fools or weaklings; the ferocity of our warrior regiments is well known to any who have attempted to breach our borders. The goddess rewards them handsomely for their service. Looked at in this way, it all becomes completely 'mundane' in the best possible way; grounded. Hmmm?"

She pauses, raises her eyebrows. If this is a question, I have no clue what answer she expects, so, to be agreeable, I agree.

"Yes, alright." I nod. I really should be taking notes. It's calming. I remember things better. But I was only expecting a polite introduction and maybe a few diplomatic type questions. I find this manner of reception very odd.

"Well, anyway." the AhnIe sighs and leans forward just a bit. "You've come for a show; the Ulim Trials." she beams.

She seems to be waiting for an answer, but I am at a loss. Calling their sacred ceremonies a 'show'... should I be agreeing with this? Or... I shrug. "If that's what... I mean, if there are to be ceremonies that I could observe that would be..." I break off, mindful again of the 'tourist' label and, "But I would not think of treating it just as a show." I venture.

"Hmmm." she seems puzzled by this. "Well, certainly more goes on at the trials as the afternoon progresses, but certainly the staging of the first offerings and many other elements are intended as a show. But I think you'll find there's nothing 'mysterious' about it at all." AhnIe continues. "And as for sacred, well, think of it more as not being wasteful or unappreciative of the ordinary delights the goddess provides; like young men and their exuberance." she pauses, raises an eyebrow, then adds, "We're reviewing several of them today, judging aptitude, making sure we weed out any..."

She sees my expression, pauses to let me ask... "Young men." I echo, my mind shifting back to the couple in the anteroom.

AhnIe nods.

"Reviewing them?" I ask.

The AhnIe spreads her hands. "Review, interview;" she frowns as if unsure what other word to use, then "this is just preliminary, a chance for them to audition if you want to call it that. The wives will conduct a much more thorough evaluation at the trials. That's why they're called the trials, of course. This is an initial screening to make sure they're suitable to entertain the wives at the trials and provide a decent selection to choose from for the various roles in the ceremonies and at the temple. Even if they aren't selected for further service, they've got to be serviceable for at least the basic duties at the trials."

This is all going by too fast; an 'audition' for the trials or service at the temple, but then the wives somehow select... but even if they don't...

"Duties?" I ask. "Or, I mean roles in the ceremonies, is that it? This is something they, you have them audition for or...?" Even as I ask it, it sounds oddly naive, but there's something so unceremoniously blunt about this that...

"Well, of course. You didn't think that, without any instruction or evaluation, we would just..." she knits her brow. "You didn't think the celebrations, the ceremonies or service at the temple are just spontaneous, did you?" she looks incredulous.

To be honest, it had never occurred to me one way or the other how it is that such rites and rituals could be arranged. The mere fact that they (allegedly) occurred at all having quite dominated the imagination. But now that she mentions it, "Well, not spontaneous, I guess. Everyone would have to know what's expected at least and..." I fidget, not wanting to speculate further given my limited knowledge of what actually does go on.

"And..." the AhnIe echoes my truncated sentence. "You do understand that simply 'knowing what's expected', as you say, is necessary but certainly not sufficient to being able to perform as required. A certain level of endowment, physical aptitude and emotional inclination and training..." she breaks off, looks at me doubtfully.

"But of course!" I say as if knowing this all along and understanding its significance, but internally I am scrambling to re-evaluate the art, the stories the... everything. What if these supposedly 'iconic' or 'mythic' representations, the regimental commander's lewd stories...? Surely if any of that really went on it would... "But of course." I repeat in what I hope is a convincing imitation of unperturbed professionalism.

I really should be taking notes. "Would you mind my taking notes?" I ask, motioning to my satchel and writing materials and conscious that I have just confirmed her "tourist who takes notes" characterization. Be that as it may, I am here to do a job.

"Of course. Of course." the AhnIe waves her permission. "You must give Queen Elanor a full report."

I hesitate. I'm having the damnedest time reading tone here; was that sarcasm? Tried patience? Condescension? I determine just to do my job. They can think what they like.

"Thank you." I say and hurriedly pull out my pencil and notebook.

Dora; First Impressions

The 'ambassadress' is a mousy little thing and she squints. But at least she's a woman so her report back may be less deceitful and malicious than usual. I know the goddess has no secrets, but why the AhnIe tolerates these supposed historians, diplomats and sightseers, even seems to welcome them, is beyond me.

So, we've told her we're in the midst of reviewing prospects for the trials but she apparently has no sense she's interrupting anything. But she is.

I like to review prospects one right after another, in relatively quick succession. I say, just lead them in. Show me what they've got. I don't like to pamper them. They should demonstrate their eagerness to entertain me without a lot of coaxing. I'm not a difficult audience; but I want them to acknowledge my role as evaluator and show me they aim to please. If they can't do that, if they need a lot of warm up or encouragement to present properly, they're just unsuitable for ceremonial purposes. I know there's other uses they could be put to, but even in private I don't want to coddle them. It's their job to pamper me, whatever else they may be good for.

But now this. Holding things up!

Relax, okay, relax. Leave it to the goddess.

So, 'Laura' has got her notebook out on her lap and she's looking more at ease, curled in upon herself that way, clutching her pencil for protection.

Yes, I should relax, but praise Ishea! I'm just itching for another one! That last; the volume out of him! Looking right at me too, to make sure I wasn't missing it. I like that. A ceremonial prop that one, for sure. I can see him in position along the stair case at the Euios, letting that salvo off to greet the wilding maid as she climbs the dais. He'd be a good show even from the back row. Seeing it would set the other men off like...

What? What's that?

I should pay attention, or at least pretend to.

The AhnIe is explaining, "Each young man who thinks he might want the Ulim role, as he comes of age, finds a guide; a married woman who will be responsible for making sure he is of suitable aptitude and is prepared to serve the goddess in the expected roles."

"Prepared? Prepared how?" Laura asks.

"Well, I'm sure it won't surprise you, but not every young man is suited to this." the AhnIe responds. Pauses.

"This?" Laura asks. "Suited how?"

Spare us! The question was rhetorical! Does she know anything at all about the temple and the ceremonies? Did she not even notice the statuary in the courtyard? The frescos? 'This?'!

"Well, I'm sure you must..." AhnIe clears her throat. "Male arousal, hmn," she shakes her head, "an erection can't be faked. Nor, of course the offering or... They have to take pleasure in the various duties, the required displays and, well, just the role overall. Obviously if it doesn't excite them to do this, if they lack the temperament to take pleasure in sexual submission and compliance with female direction... anyway." She waves this off, clearly somewhat baffled that this would not be obvious. "We are all somewhat malleable in the hands of the goddess. A young man with strong basic inclinations towards service can be shaped, conditioned to expect and find pleasure in particular situations and stimulus, his innate sexual inclinations refined and heightened by formative exposure and guidance at the hands of an experienced woman. All of us develop our tastes and inclinations through some sort of experience or exposure," she shrugs, "or the lack of it. If the raw material and inclinations of a young man are suitable and he wants the experience, the guide just directs his pleasures and urges into a particular channel of sexual performance. But it only works if the basic inclinations are there to start with. And, of course, physically, shape, size, control and well, the volume of semen a young man can..."

"Uhmn!" Laura reacts like she's been poked in the nose.

Is this unexpected? Again, has she seen the frescos? Did she even notice the one in the anteroom?

But the AhnIe tries to react diplomatically, shifting tone and...

"Well, with young men that's usually not so much an issue," she pauses again, "but there is a certain visual minimum that..."

The ambassadress is looking up from her notebook with an expression of suppressed intellectual hysteria.

"Anyway," the AhnIe says carefully, "between temperament, excitability and physical endowment there is always only a limited number, some years more, some less. But, Ishea be praised, we always find enough to do her honor. This is just as well since we can't take them all, even if we wanted to." She clears her throat watching the ambassadress' expression. "We all enjoy our privileges, but day to day... there are so many other things to worry about. The harvest must come in, herds tended and the border companies manned. We can't have too many young men occupied this way, supported by the temple and... even if it's only for a year or two we..." she breaks off, looking for some sign that this is registering with 'Laura'. But I can see from Laura's expression she hasn't got a clue.

Silence.

Laura shakes her head slightly and then nods.

"A select group is sufficient to provide what's wanted." the AhnIe continues, "So you see, the goddess grants us the luxury of being selective; we take only the best; physically, temperamentally, performance wise. Tastes among the wives vary widely so there is no set qualification; but boors, buffoons and wallflowers get weeded out quickly. Those types are mostly not interested in the first place, but even if they are, only the most promising are ever recommended by their guide for evaluation."

Laura bites her lip as if trying to rouse herself from whatever reverie she's in. "Yes, but you were saying you assign roles and..." she sighs like this is an effort of will. "Did I misunderstand?"

"You mean specifically in terms of the ceremonies for instance, or the temple duties?" AhnIe asks.

"Yes, then, for the ceremonies?" the pencil begins to scribble again.

"Well, like anything else, people differ in aptitude and endowments. The goddess and the wives deserve only the best. So, in terms of roles, for example, the ejaculations that greet the wilding maid must..."

"Oh!" Laura seems to fumble with her pencil, lose her place on the page. "Yes, I'm sorry." she says quickly.

AhnIe pauses, frowns.

Gods! If she's going to get rattled every time someone mentions a spurt or two of come, how does she expect...? Where the hell does she think she is?

AhnIe, still all diplomacy, takes a somewhat different tack. "Nobody is required to do anything they don't want, you understand. There are a variety of roles suitable to serve the goddess. But, well, I'm sure you've seen the frescoes, a young man must show well and enjoy it or there's no..." the AhnIe pauses. "It's performance, you understand, at the ceremonies its... like any public ritual it's meant to be seen." AhnIe frowns. "Is this answering your question?" she asks.

Laura is nodding.

Let's hope this is sufficient. Yes? No big mystery then, why we would be auditioning them, right? Okay then. Let's pack up your little note book, and have Chenin give you a tour of the gardens or something while we finish up here. This was my afternoon with the new toys, and I just don't get that many chances to scratch this itch and enjoy that pure sense of entitlement and command that...

Another question? Goddess, give me patience!

"Pardon, I'm not quite following." the mouse looks back at her prior notes as if she can't remember from one moment to the next what she's been told without a prompt. "You said the guide... what exactly does the guide do with a young man?"

"She shows him the way of the goddess." the AhnIe smiles patiently.

If the word 'ejaculation' is too much for her, I can't imagine she'd want more detail than that. But she persists.

"But just... I mean...?"

Pathetic! Just pathetic! The mouse has no clue! Can't we just...

"The first thing is to discipline and direct the Ulim force. As enjoyable as the relationship can be for both guide and prospect, if the object is temple service, then the guide must channel the raw sexuality of a young man into useful service. This means exposing him to situations and experiences that re-enforce or enhance exhibitionist and compliant tendencies and that reward or encourage such performance through pleasure and repetition. It is not that different, really, than any other sort of conditioning that takes physical, emotional or mental traits and trains or sharpens them until some given response or reaction comes almost reflexively in given situations. Just as your worm-based teachers take perfectly healthy young women and condition them to be repressed and shame-filled and self-hating in order to give your men the aggressive power trip of violating them..."

The AhnIe breaks off in irritation and I am expecting Laura to take exception. But to my surprise she has looked up from her notes and seems quite interested.

"Please, do go on." the ambassadress says after a moment.

AhnIe shakes her head slightly as if to clear it, regains a bit more equanimity and continues. "In your world, if I can be so bold, the hyper sexuality of young men is treated as a problem, a bawdy joke or a form of tolerated or repressed delinquency. All of the outlets for it are deviant in some way; raping servant girls, going to prostitutes, impregnating young women they have no ability or intention to support or pestering them endlessly and crassly with pretensions of romance, joining gangs... Ah!" she waves a hand, "I digress. You know this better than me, I'm sure. It's a terrible waste and perversion of the goddess' gifts. They wind up dishonest, shamed, sneaky, frustrated, violent, misdirected, deviant, or just obnoxious and self-centered... all perfectly unnecessary when there are married women who could guide them, make pleasurable use of their aptitude and inclinations, even their strutting and competitiveness, give them an honorable outlet, provide some discipline and direction and still let them indulge themselves. Whereas,... I'm sorry, am I going too fast?"

"No, please, go on. I'm not sure I follow all of this but," Laura says, scribbling furiously.

"In any event, no young man has to serve at the temple; they are needed in the border companies and at harvest and sowing; just as I am sure they are in your country. But they obviously have certain urges and needs that look for an outlet and, at least for some of them, as I said before, those with certain inclinations who find pleasure and excitement in the role, this is an agreeable arrangement."

The ambassadress' head pops up from her notebook. "Some of them." she echoes. "So not every young man has a guide."

"Oh no, that would be..." the AhnIe breaks off, shakes her head. "No."

Yes, thank you very much. If she didn't hear you the first time you told her, don't waste our time explaining it again. What exactly does she think the phrases 'only a limited number' and 'a select group' mean?

"And so, the others...?" Laura's eyebrows go up.

Goddess, spare me! Today is not the day to be worrying about the others! But here, mercifully, the AhnIe, too, appears to have reached the limits of her explanatory patience.

AhnIe smiles thinly. "Well, let's just say they aren't neglected. The goddess is generous, but the need for supervision..." again, she pauses, waves off the rest. "We solve that problem in our own way."

"What problem is that?"

She's got to be kidding. But the AhnIe takes it in stride.

"The problem is that young men are emotionally and financially unsuitable for marriage. It takes a man many years to build up enough substance to support a wife and the maturity to be a husband and father. They need time and opportunity to gain experience and learn responsibility without being totally frustrated sexually, of course, which would just stunt them and make them angry and needlessly aggressive. But when he's finally mature enough to wed, a man's natural inclination is to find a younger wife. At that point, this is proper because most young women aren't looking for a husband who can't support their children and doesn't know how to behave responsibly. Like everywhere else, young women are usually better off financially and in terms of maturity, marrying somewhat older men. I say somewhat; a man in his thirties and a woman in her twenties, that's most common. These arrangements make perfect sense given the way the world is now, after the loss of Leean."

The AhnIe pauses here for a moment. Remarkably, the ambassadress' expression seems to indicate this obvious calculus had never occurred to her. Are foreign women just genetically stupid?

"But this does leave us with the same mismatch of practicality and desire that is the lot of mortals since the Loss." AhnIe continues in the didactic tone appropriate to the erotically ignorant which, at this point, the ambassadress has clearly demonstrated she is. "On the one hand you have, young wives married to older husbands who can love and support them properly, but who sometimes can't satisfy them when these women reach the sexual prime of their own lives in their forties and later; and, on the other, young men who, at least if left to their own devices, cannot satisfy themselves or anyone else when they are at their own sexual prime in their twenties. If the goddess were a sociopath like your gods," the AhnIe pauses, "Pardon," she says solicitously, "but there really is no other way to say it."

"Oh no, that's quite all right." Laura assures her. "Go on."

And truly, she does not seem shocked or upset by this characterization of the divine clique of misogynist buffoons that pass for gods outside of Nymnia. Perhaps she is just inexperienced but not as dense as some of her questions at first make her seem.

AhnIe nods and continues. "If she were like some of these other gods, she would teach us that suffering is virtue and the fact that the worm has arranged it so that history makes us sensible only to make us unhappy is the 'divine way'. But Ishea is not a frump to nature. She takes these tangled weeds and exuberant flowerings and makes a garden. To the wives, the goddess offers the roha to prevent unwanted conception. To men, she offers the chance to satisfy at least some of their urges when they are young without unwanted social or personal consequences to them or others, and then, when they have matured, the opportunity to wed a young woman who can bear them children. For a young woman, the goddess offers protection and the right to wed for affection (often even love) and security without becoming the property or prisoner of her husband. But as you see, this is not a matter of a few ceremonies. It is a different way of ordering everything." AhnIe pauses.

I have to say, that was a pretty decent summary. Sure, she's dressed it up a bit by keeping things general and philosophical, but the ambassadress apparently can't handle the straightforward translation of the philosophical to the physical. If it were me... but never-mind. Let's just get this over with.

"I can see that, yes." the ambassadress mumbles, scribbling furiously, then lifts her head and blinks at the AhnIe. "This is all very uhmn, interesting. Yes, so could we, I mean, there's obviously a great deal here and thank you for being so patient, but could we go back to the men who serve at the temple and..." her voice trails off.

AhnIe raises an eyebrow. Surely, she will cut this off at this point. The woman is obviously floundering here, out of her depth. There's no way to 'explain' this to her when she's got no concrete experience to put it into context. It's like explaining colors to a blind man.

But no, instead of shutting her off, AhnIe patiently wades into the 'general subject' as if trying to guess what, specifically, Laura might want to know.

"Well, as I said, there are certain roles at the ceremonies and needed services here at the temple that young men with certain attributes and inclinations are suited to fill. To the young men who wish to serve in that way," the AhnIe pauses to make sure the ambassadress is keeping up, then continues, "the goddess offers direction, an honorable and disciplined path to channel their otherwise troublesome drives, an opportunity for release and pleasure, both for them, ourselves and our husbands."

This is all so obvious, isn't it? Yet Laura seems determined to scratch out every word as if it were some grand mystery or complicated set of math equations she's likely to forget.

"Pardon?" Laura bites her lower lip, flips back to a previous page, finds her place, "He finds a guide?" she brightens. "Here it is. You said a young man finds a guide?"

"Yes."

"Sorry but, how exactly..." She seems puzzled as if this too were some great conundrum. "I mean..."

"He will find a married woman who accepts the task of guiding him." AhnIe clarifies.

"A married woman." Laura restates.

"But of course." The AhnIe smiles patiently, then seeing the still puzzled expression, "Young men can be really charming, exciting and entertaining, if predictably single minded, when given an appropriate outlet for their natural inclinations. An older woman, a married woman, who understands the ways of the goddess, knows how to channel this energy so that it can serve a pleasurable and honorable function as a celebration of the goddess and her power; that's what's needed."

Da, da, da! Honorable function! Young cock put to good use. Someone should just say it. It's not that the rest is inaccurate; it's all certainly honorable and pleasurable and... whatever. But if "ejaculation" is going to make her drop her pencil in panic, then this 'explanation' is concealing as much as it's revealing.

Laura shifts in her chair, looks troubled, doubtful. "I'm sorry. There's so much, I know this must seem..."

Naive? Stupid? You've got that right! How could you have lived to your age and not figured at least some of this out? I feel sorry for her, as I do for most foreign women (and men for that matter), but I'm not sure this is getting her anywhere.

But AhnIe continues to be polite.

"Not at all." AhnIe says reassuringly and motions for her to continue.

"How, or where, does he find such a... woman?" Laura's voice trails off.

She has GOT to be kidding!

"What do you mean? They're everywhere. For any wife of Nymnia it is a duty to act as a guide unless there is some... I mean, like anything else, we're not all temperamentally suited to the role perhaps, but there is certainly no shortage of..." the AhnIe frowns. "Do you mean, how do they decide or agree?"

"Uhm, sure, just..."

"Well, it's an expected arrangement for young men with certain inclinations and attributes. The young man and the woman may know each other any number of ways. Perhaps the woman is a friend of the family or a neighbor. Or perhaps the woman herself has expressed an interest in a particular young man and... I guess there's no set answer really. But there isn't any lack of willing guides. It takes time and experience and a certain temperament like anything else but, obviously, it has its compensations too."

"Obviously." Laura echoes, but I can see, incredibly, she is bewildered.

What about this doesn't she get? Let me guess; it's that very polite 'compensations' that allows her to avert her inner gaze from the image of a wife taking a young man into her household to fuck and tease and share with her husband and friends to prepare him for a day like today.

Cedera; balance

I'm enjoying this. Particularly watching Dora squirm. She's so worked up it's almost funny. I grant her, the interviews have been very nice so far. Three entertaining and lovely young men. But this has only whetted Dora's always considerable appetite for young Ulim flesh. She'd have them go all day and night if there were enough fresh prospects to keep the pearl flowing. She loves it, really, in a way I don't quite get. It makes her a good judge though.

Me? I thoroughly enjoy the sexual dynamics of the role of 'evaluator'; watching the power of the goddess play out in the flesh. Having these young men present and submit themselves to my judgement and appraisal, to see their excitement, their eagerness for approval, is always deeply satisfying. But, after a while, the young men themselves all seem the same. They're so predictable and there's only so many ways to skin the cat. So, choosing one over another... I find I just lose track. Unlike Dora who revels in the details, the details just don't stick with me. So, while I always enjoy the audition process, the individual men become pleasantly interchangeable.

I sometimes question whether I'm the right choice for the role of evaluator. I do take this seriously and want to make the right choices. The goddess and the wives deserve only the best. Life in Nymnia, like everywhere else, isn't easy; the drudgery of the day to day, the inevitable suffering, the endless toil over the rocky earth through the seasons to scrape out a living, the burden and dangers of childbirth, the risk of war, disease... There is more than time enough for the wives to be "serious" and "responsible" and... whatever. The goddess is their refuge, however momentary, from all that. And the trials, even more than the Euios or the duty of visiting the temple with their husbands, is meant to be the perfect, frivolous expression of Ishea's kindness and indulgence; a chance, one afternoon and evening a year, to be pampered, entertained, amused, seduced; to enjoy ourselves with our friends, to ogle and touch and demand pretty much what we want from the finest examples of Ulim flesh the goddess can provide. These young men must not be a disappointment; beauty, strength, proportion, stamina, eagerness to serve; they simply must be up to it; the wives deserve no less. So, my waning ability to distinguish, to see with fresh eyes... it worries me.

But the AhnIe insists. Says she prefers someone with a more ceremonial outlook to balance things. And I do like the formalities to be adhered to, such as they are; whereas Dora, I sometimes think, takes them, or at least what they produce, for granted; as if the tone of the proceedings were a spontaneous production and not a carefully wrought and maintained psychological vessel to capture and control the otherwise unruly urges the goddess calls forth.

Dora's bent out of shape at the moment because the previous auditions have whetted her appetite and her cunt. Mine too, of course, but in Dora the goddess rouses a bit more urgency in response. She's more than ready to put another young man through his paces. But suddenly this "Laura" is holding up the proceedings.

The AhnIe is being very general in her remarks and I'm not sure this Laura is really getting much of what she's saying. Having come from "away" myself, I think I have a better sense of how confusing this can all be at first. Without context, even straightforward descriptions are unclear, because you're never quite sure you really heard what you just heard. I wonder, does Laura even know the Ulim story? My guess from her expression is that, if she does, she can't bring herself to take it seriously, which means, of course, that all this talk about the goddess and making men realize and etc. is just mumbo jumbo to her.

I'm waiting for the inevitable question; the one that always comes. It was the first one I had as well. Ah, there it is.

"The husbands?" Laura seems to wince as she asks, "You said something about the husbands?"

"What about them?"

The AhnIe, of course, is being disingenuous. Or perhaps not. Come to think of it, there are probably fifty questions in Laura's head dealing with this; the "great conundrum" for all worm-based world views: how is it possible men can "allow"... whatever she thinks most shocking about it. But it's always based on the failure to recognize how miserably incapable men are at making themselves happy without women's guidance and control in this area of life. With nothing to guide them, men imagine they are happy as serial rapists and prison wardens of women. But, in truth, they are constricted and miserable, the way the worm wants them. And it destroys everything else in their lives; particularly their relations with one another and their families, which are all patterned on the same fearful, hoarding, violent, suspicious, homophobic, misogynist mind-set. Once you're immersed in that world, you can never imagine how anything could function otherwise.

Laura's so used to men being stupid, violent brutes, she can't imagine that they might be teachable; might come to recognize that their deepest sexual pleasure lies in serving the sexual pleasure of their wives. And she'd never, I mean never, be able to imagine that a woman, free to choose, might come to see it as being in her own interest (and pleasure) to afford generous opportunity and outlet for men to satisfy themselves serving their wives and to make such service as rewarding and exciting as possible for a husband. Until you get out of the worm's clutches, you just can't see it.

So, what about the husbands?

They are our determined co-conspirators in the contrivances of the goddess. Sure, we have our dissidents. But nobody is forced to marry a Nymnian wife. They line up for the honor. Just as the young men jump at the opportunity, almost besiege available married women, for the chance to be schooled in the goddess' ways and considered for service at the temple rather than toiling in the fields or serving in the border guard. Nymnian men are smart enough to know how to get what they want and to know that it requires certain restraint and compromise; as it does from the wives. A husband is entitled to certain privileges as well. But if you're under the spell of the worm, it all looks impossible.

I've missed the question. Something with the word "tolerate" in it and the typical "if I understand correctly what goes on" evasion of direct expression. As if sexually amusing yourself with young men could be understood somehow 'incorrectly'. Perhaps she needs a concrete example?

I begin to share Dora's sense of impatience. If you just want information, this is probably not the best time or place. But perhaps we could send her... now that's an idea!

"We all must tolerate the imperfect one way or another." AhnIe responds. "Since the Loss, there is no perfect course or ordering of things. There are only lesser or greater approximations in the always shifting and mutually contradictory emotions, desires and needs of a fallen world. That is the worm's power. Because perfection is impossible, every attempt to pursue it inevitably becomes vicious. The way of the goddess is not perfect and does not seek perfection. It is not "holy" or "sacred", at least not as you use those terms in reference to your gods. It is, instead, divinely practical and pleasurable and kind, or at least, as much of this as we can accomplish given the state of the world as it is. You have come to accept your oppressions and discontents as necessary. But they are not. They are the price for your choices. We have our discontents as well. But compared to the self-inflicted emotional and physical mutilations required by your gods, the goddess' burden is light; her duties are pleasures and her sorrows and disappointments are the minimum if inevitable price extracted by history from all of us."

That's why she's AhnIe; respects the details but gets to the essence. I glance over at Dora and smile. Two votes now for getting on with things.

Laura is still scribbling. Let me see if we can't head off further questions.

"Perhaps, AhnIe, until the trials, Laura might lodge in the village with my sister-in-law, Selene and her husband, rather than here at the temple." I suggest. "It would give her an opportunity to ask some of these things directly of a wife and husband, rather than..." taking up more of our time. "ahm, rather than,... I'm thinking if she talked directly to a husband, if that's what her interest is." My brother Ian (who had once trailed me here to Nymnia, determined to bring me back home, but then saw the light and stayed) will certainly straighten her out if she thinks husbands haven't figured out how to get what they want out of life in Nymnia.

Laura Decides to Stay

The woman on the AhnIe's left suggests I be lodged in the village with her sister-in-law rather than here at the temple. Her sister-in-law is named Selene; her brother, apparently, is a lesser consideration. Whereas we would say 'my brother's wife' and etc.

Little things; but I make a note of that. It all adds. I'm unsure about this suggestion though. Am I being fobbed off? The AhnIe already seems...

"An excellent suggestion, Cedera, do you think it could be arranged?"

"AhnIe," I speak up, "not to seem ungrateful, but I had hoped to be able to observe day to day things here at the temple as well as..."

"Observe." Dora, who I have now determined is not particularly fond of me, echoes my word with raised eyebrows.

"Dora," again the AhnIe rests a restraining hand upon her companion's forearm, but answers me. "In the absence of the ceremonies themselves, it is only married couples who visit to..." she pauses, frowns, waves this off. "It is not really a matter for 'observation', unless, of course, they invite you. But that is totally up to wife and husband, not something I would have any say over. The ceremonies, on the other hand, are public festivals. The Trials again, are more private. Only the wives attend the Trials, well, and the young male prospects, of course, and those wives who do are chosen by lottery or invitation. We could certainly accommodate your attendance; but that isn't for several days yet."

Now this I have heard nothing about; married couples? "Married couples?" I ask.

At this all three of them exchange looks of mild surprise or consternation. Dora begins to say something, but once more the AhnIe cuts her off with a calming gesture. She turns back to me, smiles in an indulgent sort of way.

"Absent sickness or other infirmity, it is the duty of every married couple to visit the temple and honor the goddess together at least once a year. Some, who can afford it, come more often, but... Perhaps it would have been better if I had asked just what it is you have heard about the ways of the goddess. Not to be unkind, but it is apparently somewhat limited?" she nods, raises her eyebrows.

"Well," I hesitate. How to answer? "I'm not sure, really. Her majesty received a very detailed, or at least what seemed like a very detailed account from one of the regimental soldiers who claimed to have attended, participated in what he called the Summer Euios. He described a great deal of the games and the procession and the, uhnm, the ceremonies. Her majesty, frankly, did not entirely believe his account, but..."

"So he was, hmm, 'passing through', so to speak, and tried his luck in the games?" AhnIe asks.

"Apparently." I agree, though honestly, I never heard him tell the tale; it had been recounted in a private interview with the Queen. I got it second hand. But judging by the AhnIe's earlier remark about ejaculations greeting the wilding maid, the captain apparently wasn't making all of it up.

"And that's it? I mean, again, not to be impolite but, that's the sum of what you've heard?" the AhnIe asks.

I can see the incredulity in the tightly composed, 'polite' expressions of the AhnIe's two companions. It throws me a bit.

"I'm..." at a loss, but, "yes. I suppose that's it." I am not about to go into all the pornographic speculation and rumor I've heard in other quarters, although, admittedly some of it now seems far more plausible than I would have at first imagined.

The AhnIe takes a deep breath. "This would really be a much longer conversation, before 'observing', as you say, would be too helpful." she nods again as if she is expecting me to agree to this; goes on before I can respond. "I think the suggestion that you stay with Cedera's sister-in-law for the few days before..."

I am being fobbed off!

"Pardon, but I assure you, your h..." I catch myself before repeating the 'holiness' faux pas, "AhnIe, I assure you, I am a careful and honest observer. I will not fabricate or embellish or in any way skew my account. I will be completely objective; that is the whole reason her majesty chose me for this."

"Of course, of course, you didn't let me finish. What I was..."

But at this point Dora has lost all patience with me and cannot restrain herself.

"AhnIe, I'm sorry but, AhnIe, we are just in the middle of..."

Again, the AhnIe turns to her and tries to restrain, but Dora is going to get it out this time.

"No." Dora says somewhat defiantly. "I'm sorry, but you know," then her expression shifts, "you know," she brightens at a thought, "there are activities at the temple today Laura could observe if she is so inclined. We have yet two more prospects to interview and she... well, she is a woman, even if not perhaps married. But for the sake of diplomacy, we could..."

The AhnIe looks incredulous. Cedera throws her head back in a laugh.

"What?" Dora looks past the AhnIe to Cedera. "The more the merrier for our purposes, right? Get them accustomed to strangers!"

The AhnIe is beginning to smile in amusement as well.

"I hardly think Laura is prepared for that." the AhnIe looks in my direction, frowns, "These are not 'interviews' in the same sense that you and I are having just now, you understand, I mean, like this." she flicks her fingers back and forth to illustrate our exchange. "Well, they are in some ways, but..."

"As you say, AhnIe, this would be a very long conversation." Dora interjects. "But I'm sure Laura would be 'objective'," Dora pauses as if the word held some peculiar significance, then turns to me pointedly, "wouldn't you, Laura?"

Once again, the dynamics here are eluding me. Dora seems to be taking my side, but Cedera is finding this just hilarious, and the AhnIe seems a bit annoyed.

"Yes, of course." I agree with Dora. "I'd appreciate any opportunity to observe and learn more about your customs here."

"You see?" Dora beams at the AhnIe.

I am not certain what the problem is. I'm assuming there is something risqué or sexual about the 'interviews' that they think will shock or surprise me. Maybe it will, but hopefully I'm braced for that. Yet, to be honest, I'm just not seeing how these three middle aged women are going to do much in this setting, in the AhnIe's audience chamber itself, to startle me too badly.

"And it would be good for them." Dora adds. "A little more exposure and..." she moves her two hands in front of her like she's juggling, "mix things up a bit. See how they react."

The AhnIe is shaking her head, but she's smiling affectionately at Dora. "You're a piece of work, aren't you?" she asks approvingly.

"I try." Dora concedes.

Cedera is settling down a bit, but still finding it all very amusing.

"Laura," the AhnIe looks at me seriously. "Dora's right, this is really a lot to explain and we do have further prospects to attend to and then, of course, we need to..." she waves this off. "Like I say, really too much to explain it all just now. I personally think you'd be better served by heading back to the village and getting a few more of your basic questions answered before this. That's just my personal opinion. It's not a law or anything. The goddess has no secrets. You can stay if you like. But be warned, if you stay, you won't be uninvolved. Just the nature of things; this setting is intentionally intimate and you can't just disappear. They're going to react to you. The whole point is that they are supposed to react to you. They're here to..." she places a hand on her forehead. "And there I go again. It's really too much to explain just now."

She is looking at me with the oddest expression; a mix of amusement, irritation and concern.

"It's up to you." she says. "But you are not going to be the anonymous note taker if you stay."

"What's going to happen?" What in god's name is going to happen?!

The AhnIe and Dora exchange slightly exasperated glances. Dora shakes her head slowly. The AhnIe sighs, nods in agreement, turns back towards me.

"It's up to you." the AhnIe says, waving off this last question. "Chenin, who showed you in, can make sure you get back to the village."

"I'll stay." should I stay?

"Lovely!" Dora enthuses. "We'll have Chenin fetch another chair. You can sit here next to me." she motions.

What's wrong with this chair? I wonder but... Shit! What does she mean I won't be the anonymous note taker!? I should go. Find out more and... Just exactly what am I getting into?

"It's up to you." AhnIe repeats. "Dora's right though. We'll need another chair if you stay. That one you're in is for the prospect or his guide or... it just depends on how..." she shrugs easily. "It's just... logistics. Are you sure?" she asks, her eyebrows raised.

Hell no, but "Yes. Of course." I swallow.

Dora; The Interview Begins

Now this should be lovely! Get the next one in here! I can't wait to see how they react, not to mention how little Miss "I'll be objective" over there does. We'll play it up good for her.

I'm so excited, I go myself and retrieve another chair from the wing, help Laura move her things. She's looking around the room and smiling sheepishly at me the whole time as if she's unsure whether I've done her a favor or tricked her into some compromising situation. A little of both, I hope. But her presence will certainly add to my entertainment unless she faints or panics...

Naw! She doesn't look like the type for either. She probably knows 'intellectually' pretty much what's coming; she's used to the 'idea' of strange and exotic practices. But the visceral reality is still likely to be a bit of a shock because she's never had to translate that sort of 'information' into flesh and blood. Yes, she'll be shocked, even if she's not surprised; but that's alright, she's got some spunk. Traveled all the way here on her own; she can't be that mousy.

Such fun!

The AhnIe calls for the next prospect. Chenin goes to fetch. Really, it's just so nice. What better job could a girl have on a late April afternoon?

The young man enters with Ariane, his guide, leading him by the hand. Chenin precedes them towards the interview area.

Uhnm. I know this one, yes. I love it when I know them! I hope he remembers me too. I live just four holdings down. His mother Fiore and I are casual acquaintances. I've even spoken to him once or twice. Gi, I think it is. The eldest of Fiore's three sons. Makes it so much sweeter when they recognize you; creates that tension between our roles here and the ones we would assume beyond the temple precincts. Each has its place in the scheme of things, but the frisson is a lovely addition to the encounter.

Yes, it's Gi. I've always thought him fine; slender, sandy haired, with a very pretty face. Apparently, he has other pleasing attributes as well or he wouldn't be here. Our eyes meet as he walks towards us. Oh yes, he recognizes me. Lovely!

Yes, let's try him, shall we? Make him do his best. Ariane knows what she's about. I'm sure she's got him ready.

Chenin escorts them forward to stand in front of us.

Ah, there it is; brave risen Ulim angled upward against his hip under the material of his robe. Proportions look promising.

"Lady Ariane brings Giandar who seeks to serve the goddess." Chenin announces then heads back towards her station behind AhnIe's chair.

"Ariane, thanks for coming." the AhnIe says, "And you're Giandar?" a rhetorical question by way of introduction.

His eyes are going up and down the line of his evaluators. Sure enough, he reacts to Laura. The only one not in the silk of the goddess; she breaks expectation. He gets his eyes back to the AhnIe.

"Yes, AhnIe. But, just Gi is good. People call me Gi." he answers.

His eyes follow Chenin as she gets into position behind the AhnIe's chair. Chenin usually stays unless the AhnIe sends her on some errand. She has no official role but... perks of the job.

"Gi, then." the AhnIe nods. "You know why you're here, what's expected?"

"Yes, AhnIe." but again his eyes dart to our 'observer'.

He fidgets a little, shifts. The erection in the front of his robe says he's definitely ready. Ariane has done her job; seen to it that the goddess has him firmly in hand.

"You know me." Cedera says by way of introduction.

He nods. "Yes, m'lady, Cedera."

"Good to see you again." Cedera smiles, turns her eyes to Ariane. "If I recall from my visit, he only started with you in..."

"Mid-winter, yes." Ariane affirms. "But he's really very..."

Mid-winter? That's a bit fast. Is he not useful? I hope Ariane's isn't trying to...

"Well, we can discuss that," AhnIe interrupts pleasantly. "But let's finish introductions. Do you already know..." she turns towards me.

"Hello Gi." I greet him.

"M'lady." he smiles, gives me a slight bow but his eyes stray past me to Laura in her formal cloak.

"It's Dora." I say, though I'm pretty sure he remembers. "I don't think we've really been introduced." I let my eyes roam down to the front of his robe. "But it's lovely to have you here." He responds to my gaze, his bare feet shifting further apart on the carpet, hips shift slightly forward. Yes, you're so eager, just as you should be, to show me that, aren't you?

"And this is," I turn to our anthropologist to allow her to introduce herself.

It's comical. She almost drops her little pencil, stammers and flubs but does manage to get out...

"I'm Laura, ambassadress of Queen Elanor, ahm, good day."

What was she expecting? That she'd just sit there and stare at him as if he were a wall hanging?

"And to you, m'lady." he gives her a slight bow.

"Laura is here as an observer." I tell him. "She'll be taking detailed notes so she can report everything about your performance to Queen Elanor of the Gaels. Isn't that...?"

"Dora." AhnIe interrupts, but she's smiling. She finds this just as entertaining as I do.

But okay, okay, I am doing it up a bit.

Cedera; the Evaluation Begins

Strong legs, good build; but I wouldn't have expected him here just yet. Ariane has hardly had the use of him for what; four months? And before that he had been briefly with...

"Gi, weren't you, for a few months last year, with the younger Simine's household?" I ask, though I am certain.

"Yes, Cedera." it is Ariane who answers.

"Yes, I thought so." Am I the only one who's concerned with this seemingly hasty surrender?

"Was the arrangement not acceptable?" AhnIe inquires.

Ariane begins to answer. Being a bit protective, aren't we?

AhnIe waves her off gently. Yes, let the young man speak for himself.

"Very acceptable, AhnIe." Gi answers. "Lady Ariane, of her own accord, suggested the change to lady Simine, and it was agreed between them as being for the best."

A very proper answer, but as I recall it, Simine, a young wife with little experience, had a very hard time keeping things in context. It happens sometimes. Young men will push things if the expectations aren't clearly laid out and enforced. That's the whole problem; they have no idea what to do with themselves.

But now this? Only four months and already Ariane is ready to gift him to the goddess? Has she already tired of him? Has there been some problem?

"And it's worked out alright for you?" AhnIe asks Gi.

"Yes, AhnIe." he answers, exchanges smiles with Ariane.

Ariane is nodding.

"Ariane," the AhnIe shifts her attention, "is there some hurry, or?"

"No, no. I am very pleased with him." she beams at him. "Very. But he really does belong to the goddess at this point." she reaches out and takes his hand where it hangs at his side. "It really would just be selfish for me to keep him in my household any longer."

"So, he's been useful and productive?"

"He's been just fine. A good worker. More than earns his keep. But he just needs to get on with things." Ariane affirms. "I know it's not usual. But he was already a bit older, already had some guidance, when he came to me and... well, you'll decide of course."

Well, no harm in giving him a go. Even if he isn't ready, he'll enjoy himself for us. Besides, I think Ariane is quite nice herself and, if she's inclined, I'd have no objection to watching her with him. Not officially what I'm here for, but one can't quibble with the goddess.

Laura Notices

This is an odd mix of formality and familiarity. Gi is very correct; addressing us all, even Chenin, as "m'lady"; though certainly none of us, so far as I can tell, would warrant any such title as of merit. Even as an ambassadress, I am but the queen's servant, and certainly Chenin; probably just another one of the temple prostitutes, if what I've heard about the "servants" here is correct; doesn't warrant any such formality.

But it only goes one way. While he is constrained and proper, they are polite, but very casual and familiar with the man. It's a little disconcerting.

He looks to be in his twenties, in the prime of life, not a servant or slave, but someone Dora and Cedera seem to know already from the community. It strikes me again as it did with the couple in the antechamber, how young he is in comparison with...

He has an erection!

I can't believe I didn't notice that before.

I don't think he's wearing anything under that robe because it's pretty obvious.

I look around at the other women. Well, of course they notice. You can't miss it. Yet we're carrying on this conversation as if...

I really should be paying more attention. But it threw me a bit when I had to introduce myself and I was not expecting... look at that thing, it's just...

It's angled to the side against one hip. Looks big. I can see the outline of the head under the thin silk of his robe.

That's very distracting. He glances my direction, catches me looking at it.

I drop my eyes. It's instinct, but why bother? Everybody notices he's stiff. It's not just me looking at it I'll bet.

But fine, fine; I do need to take notes. I'm an anthropologist, not a voyeur. Or, okay, not just a voyeur. To be an observer one must permit oneself to 'observe'. But I should get this down as well, so... What is it they're saying?

"Lady Ariane has been very kind." Gi says. "I'm very grateful for her guidance and only wish I could have given her everything she deserves."

"Goddess spare me!" Ariane laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. "I did need to sleep sometimes!"

My shorthand is good; I'm getting this. But it doesn't matter. No one is going to believe this anyway. Debauched orgies? Sure. But this?.... Never!

Okay. I'm fine. I lift my eyes again to pay attention. I can be casual about this; just don't stare.

"So, Gi," AhnIe picks up again, "it seems you're ready." she says matter-of-factly, dropping her eyes and nodding approvingly at the erection beneath his robe as if it were just the most ordinary thing in the world to... to...

"Yes, AhnIe." he answers quickly.

The AhnIe's eyes turn briefly in my direction as if she's considering how to proceed. I can't quite read her expression before her attention is back on Gi.

"I know you're eager to get started." she smiles, "As are we. So, I don't mean to delay us too much. But our guest, the ambassadress, is not familiar with our customs here. So, naturally, she's had a few questions about young men like yourself and their service to the goddess. I thought, before we get too involved, this might be a good time to provide her with some insight, from the perspective of a young man like yourself."

Gi's eyes come my direction. I am immediately even less comfortable. I said I'd stay, but I wasn't asking for any special...

"Of course, AhnIe. Whatever you wish." he answers.

I try to smile at him, but I don't like being made the center of attention this way.

The AhnIe nods and turns towards me. "Feel free to ask your own questions of him as you see fit. But given what you've told us, I think hearing a bit from him might be helpful. I don't want to startle you or have you misunderstand, so perhaps if..." she frowns, slight shake of her head as if worried by my expression. But before I can compose myself or respond, she turns back to Gi,

"When I say our guest is not familiar with our customs, Gi, what I mean is she's never been to the ceremonies or been a guide or..." she turns towards me again, "or, I would guess, seen a man offer," her voice rises slightly, "at least in this formal sense." she pauses, then, "Is that fair to say, Laura?"

Really! Is she just trying to make me look stupid? I know I should be diplomatic here but, "I fail to see what relevance that has. I am here simply to observe and report." If they think they can drive me off with embarrassing questions...

"Hmm." the AhnIe seems puzzled rather than offended. "I wasn't meaning to criticize, simply..." she breaks off. "I'm sure you can understand, I thought at least it might be relevant, as you say, given what's expected, for Gi to understand your" she pauses, looking for the right word, "interest in this. Not to imply there is anything inappropriate about it, just..." she frowns.

I wince. "Pardon, AhnIe, I was not..." I glance again at the young man with the erection angled up against his hip standing attentively; somehow it hadn't occurred to me how he might feel about things. "Your observation would be fair, yes. Very unfamiliar." I clear my throat.

"So, and again, Laura, I mean no criticism," the AhnIe continues carefully, "but being unfamiliar, Gi, she may react to certain things in ways you wouldn't necessarily expect from your time with Ariane. And that's perfectly alright," she hastens to add with a reassuring glance my way, "but I don't want you thinking that if she seems surprised or..." she nods towards him. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, AhnIe." he answers and seems to focus on me with renewed interest. "I think so."

"Good." the AhnIe smiles. "Now, I know Dora tried to tease you about this earlier; but to be clear, we've invited the ambassadress to stay and observe not just to satisfy her own curiosity but, as Dora mentioned, she'll be writing up a report of her observations for Queen Elanor of the Gaels and likely others who may be interested." she pauses.

He's looking at me intently.

It's not any secret what I'm doing here, and the AhnIe is doing no more than stating the facts. But somehow my 'official' mission suddenly feels uncomfortably 'personal'.

"Yes, AhnIe." he answers and shifts his stance restlessly.

I can't help it; my yes go to the erection in the front of his robe. He knows I'm looking at it, shifts again and... Look at his face, Laura, don't be...

But meeting his gaze, seeing his expression, with the AhnIe 'explaining' this... Gods! This is awkward. I don't want him thinking I'm...

I look away, focus on the AhnIe who is still talking, saying...

"Now, I don't know what level of detail her report will get into, but I would assume your performance will feature in it to some extent. Am I correct to assume that by 'Yes' you mean that being the subject of a report like that is alright with you?"

A straight forward question. Why do I feel too nervous to look at him? It isn't as if I was trying to pull something over on him, or anyone else for that matter. So of course, he should know this and... Still, talking about it this way with him there... stiff, he's already...

"Yes, AhnIe." Gi answers. "That will be fine."

"I thought so." the AhnIe beams approvingly.

I'm hoping we can be done with this and get back to whatever it is they would be doing if I weren't here. But the AhnIe seems determined to achieve a level of clarity that exceeds mere acknowledgment of the situation.

"I think it's important our guest not feel she's intruding or unwelcome." the AhnIe persists, re-invigorating my already lively sense of intrusiveness. "I think being clear about your reaction to this, to her presence, might help. I think I can read it pretty clearly, but as this would all be rather new to her, let me just ask; it seems having her here to observe and report, you rather like that idea. Am I right?"

"Ahm," he exhales hard, "yes, AhnIe."

In my peripheral vision I can see him shifting foot to foot in agitation.

"This is," I start, clear my throat, try to find my best, professional voice, "this is not really necessary for my purposes, AhnIe. I feel I've delayed your proceedings far too long already and I..." stop.

She is shaking her head at me.

"For our purposes," the AhnIe says pointedly, "it is important that a young man who wishes to serve be open and able to share, when asked, whatever it is the women he serves may want to know about what he's thinking, feeling, what excites him or doesn't, and why. You will find Nymnian women exercise the same openness in expressing their own feelings and preferences. Perhaps this isn't something you're used to given the, I'm sorry if I offend but, sneaky, furtive and shamefaced practices demanded by your gods." She pauses, seems to shudder slightly in disgust. "But that's just another reason why I thought it important to make you aware of it. As for me, I'm enjoying the effect this situation seems to be having on him and I like getting that out in the open. Having him talk about it makes it affect him even more, which makes it more enjoyable still."

I feel like I'm being scolded. I guess I am in a certain sense. But I can't really argue; she's got me pegged; I can see this is doing something to him, but I'd rather not discuss it. In my own way I want to sneak away and not have to acknowledge... what? What am I hiding from?

I simply nod. She's right about something else; this will certainly be in my report, whether anyone believes it or not.

The AhnIe turns back to Gi. I observe her with an odd sense of fascination; I don't know any woman like this, not even close. So easy with herself, so straight forward with her admission of pleasure in finding out...

"What is it you like about having the ambassadress here?" she asks. "What about that excites you, more it seems, or at least differently, than just offering for us the way you expected you would?"

I understand now what she meant by my not being just a passive observer. She did try to warn me and maybe I should have listened. Well, I'm listening now.

"I like the thought of her writing it down. Taking notes maybe, or however she does it." His voice is tight, like he needs a bit more air. "She'll watch but then, later, she'll be imagining it again, going over it again and again in her head until she gets the words right, and picturing me," he breaks off.

Clearly, being made to talk about this is not a neutral, informational experience for Gi. And yet, in spite of his obvious arousal, his depiction of the writing process, his ability to intuit what will, no doubt, in fact happen is almost embarrassingly accurate. The process of writing this up will certainly involve revisiting... well but that doesn't mean I'll be...

"Over and over, recalling, describing it to herself until she..." he smiles at me.

I feel like he's revealing me more than himself and I wonder, is it really that surprising he would think that? Anyone who's ever written anything would get it. Am I fooling anybody, except me, trying to act like I don't know exactly what he's imagining?

I nod. And now he's talking to me, like I'm the one who wants to know this, or maybe just the one it excites him most to tell.

"And I like, m'lady, that maybe you haven't seen that many men before, not like this anyway." he's so locked into my gaze that it's almost as if he's forgotten the others are here.

I nod again. I know enough about men to guess why my relative naivete might excite him. Like the eagerness to debauch virgins, it's the sort of thing I roundly despise about men and their attitudes towards women. But somehow that is not at all what I feel when he tells me...

"It's like you're a Nephe, just come of age, attending temple for the first time and I am the first man you get to watch offer, the first one who calls to the goddess in you and gives you..." he seems unable to stand still. "Sorry, m'lady. It's hard to, without..."

"Yes." I surprise myself speaking, but what is a Nephe? "Yes." I say again. "Thank you. I understand."

And I do. The sentiment surely, even if not exactly the Nephe part, about coming of age and etc.

Ariane, standing beside him, is laughing softly, smiling at him affectionately.

"My," she says gently and places a hand on his shoulder. "I should have invited a few diplomats to take notes on you before this." she jests, then looks at me, "That's lovely." she breathes. "So glad you came."

I have no idea what to say to that. I did not come with any intention of 'spicing things up' for Gi or anyone else. My presence has apparently had that effect, certainly for Gi, but that doesn't change the fact that my only purpose here is to observe and report accurately. I can't be getting drawn in to this as if I were some native, here to... whatever it is exactly they intend to do?

I try to collect myself a bit, regain my objectivity. As with that damned fresco in the anteroom, I need to step back here, not be sucked in by my own, irrelevant personal reactions, understandable as those may be.

In response to Ariane's conspiratorial smile, I simply shrug. A bit unfriendly maybe, but necessary at this point to avoid giving the impression my presence here is motivated by anything beyond professional interest. And that's true. I would never be here, in a situation like this, never allow myself, absent the express order of the Queen that I...

Ariane frowns slightly. Looks a bit put off.

Well, that was the intent after all.

Somehow reminding myself of all this, brings the whole matter into clearer focus. I drop my eyes back to my notes, realize I have not been keeping up as I should. And while I'm unlikely to forget much about that last exchange, the actual words, so far as I can get them down, it would be best to have it verbatim. Let's see now, something like;

AhnIe insists young man explain what he thinks about having, no, correct that, about being, yes, being observed for the purpose of my report.

I object that, no, not 'object', I was diplomatic about it, observe, or maybe, suggest that this is unnecessary to my...

"You're kidding." it's Dora, looking over my shoulder at my notes. "I know he said it turned him on, you writing this stuff up, but, really, you're gonna write that down? I mean, now?"

When I look up, I realize other activity has ceased and they're all looking at me.

"What?" I blink at Dora, turn to the AhnIe. "Please proceed however you were going to. I don't want to..."

"Proceed?" it's Dora again.

I turn back to face her. She looks puzzled or appalled or maybe both.

"Well, yes." I say. "I mean, go on as you normally would and I'll..."

"As we normally would?" Dora asks pointedly.

"What I think Dora means..." the AhnIe attempts to intervene.

"No." Dora cuts this off. "What Dora does mean is that, normally, when a young man expresses the pleasure he'll feel in performing for a woman's enjoyment, he'll get a bit more than..." she pauses, shakes her head like she can't think of the right words.

What is wrong with these people!? Don't they get it?

"I am not here for the purpose of enjoyment." I try to be blunt without being unkind.

"And that is the first reason" it's the AhnIe, "why your report, however meticulous, won't be accurate." I turn back her way and she is gazing at me with... if I did not know better, I'd say 'pity'.

"I assure you, AhnIe, I will be completely objective and..."

"Objective?" she cuts me off. "As opposed to what?"

"Well," this is obvious, isn't it? "subjective." I answer. "I will do my best to separate my own personal feelings and reactions and just..."

"Ishea, preserve us!" Dora groans.

I look back and forth between Dora and the AhnIe. "Look. That is my job here. Not to indulge my own tastes, whatever they may or may not be, but to..."

"Laura," the AhnIe's voice is soothing, taking things down a notch, "I've heard this all before. But please, if you want to understand this, try to listen. Yes?" brows lifted, gentle expression.

"Fine." I sigh. "I am here to learn."

"When you insist you are not here to enjoy yourself, that that is your determined goal, it is as if you are trying to cut yourself off from the very thing you claim to be trying to understand in the name of understanding it. It's as if you've been asked to report on the local cuisine," the AhnIe continues, "but you insist on drinking some nausea inducing potion first, so you can be sure to avoid enjoying it and therefore be 'objective'. Certainly, even nauseous you can still tell whether what's served is salty or sweet or spicy or whatever... you can even perhaps name all the flavors, even while you're puking it all back up as quick as you swallow it. Heaven forbid, you should lose your objectivity by enjoying any of it. But seriously, how accurate do you think your report would be?" AhnIe smiles sadly.

Shit.

I know, intellectually, I can fend this off; say something clever and make fine distinctions; I am well read, after all, in the arts of logic and rhetoric. But instead, I find my gaze straying once more back out to the young man who is excited to imagine me picturing him over and over again, that erection so...

"I did warn you." the AhnIe continues with a slight shake of her head. "About staying. You can't..." she breaks off, winces slightly. Then, "Your insistence on not allowing yourself to enjoy this is..."

"Pardon, AhnIe, that isn't what I meant." I find my voice, try to interject, "I only meant that it wasn't my purpose, not that I..."

"And what other 'purpose' could this possibly serve?" she interrupts, not unkindly, even patiently, but as if having to explain this. Yes, that's pity I see.

She doesn't wait for me to answer.

"So, perhaps you won't like his build or his demeanor; maybe men don't hold any particular interest for you or watching them isn't how you like to have them; that's fine. But what we're looking for today is intended for women who do enjoy these things; seeing young men perform, enjoying them in groups or however. Such young men are employed for much more intimate services as well; they aren't always just to look at. But they need to be able to perform that way and do it well and eagerly." she pauses again as if waiting for a response, but I'm not sure what she's...

"So, if you accept that description, what is it, then, about this that makes you think enjoyment is a secondary consideration? Is it because I called this an interview, an evaluation? But even then, what other basis would we judge him on? A woman who didn't enjoy this would be as worthless a judge as our nauseous dinner guest would be as food critic." she pauses, raises an eyebrow at me.

Her soliloquy has given me space to regroup somewhat. She is clever, articulate; it flashes through my mind how absurd it is that a woman of her qualities is here, devoting herself to this... this process. I have closed my notebook, set my pencil aside and raise both hands in front of me. "AhnIe, I truly mean no disrespect. But as you say, I am unfamiliar with this sort of thing and I was merely doing my best not to over-react or become a distraction." I say as calmly as I can. It's all true, but it doesn't answer the question, which is now my question; what am I defending myself from? Looking foolish? Could I possibly look more foolish than I do now?

"Well, you certainly succeeded with the first. A young man expresses the pleasure he anticipates in performing for you and your response is;" the AhnIe composes her expression to one of comic vacuity, "I understand." she says in perfect imitation and then drops her eyes, hunches over her lap and pretends to scribble furiously in an imaginary notebook.

I do my best to keep my composure, but as the giggles and then the laughter breaks out around me... it's truly hilarious. Dignity be damned. I laugh with the rest of them. It feels good. I feel some of the tension leaving my body.

"I'm sorry." I say laughing easily now. "I don't know what the proper reaction is here and it's not as if he's really doing this for me. I mean," I motion around the room, "whether I enjoy it or not, I'm not here to evaluate him, like you are. I'm just..."

"But of course he's doing it for you." AhnIe interjects. "Didn't you hear him?" she asks.

"Well, I hardly think..." I begin to argue, but I don't want to argue. It's not necessary. Why does it matter what I think of any of this, whether I enjoy it? He apparently will and that's... that's... Let's not even go there. "I'm sorry." I make eye contact around the room. "I'm perfectly fine, really. A little uneasy or nervous I guess, but I'm fine. I seem to have gotten this all off track and I really did not want to be a distraction."

"Oh no, not at all." It's Cedera, leaning slightly forward in her chair to look past the AhnIe and Dora. "This has been useful in some ways."

"It has?" I blink.

"Certainly." Cedera smiles. "To perform well, consistently, they must be able to deal with distractions, interruptions. Things don't always go smoothly; women or couples want different things." she spreads her hands. "Who knows. On a ceremonial occasion he can't be wilting on us because the priestess drops the offering cup or..." she swats that away. "This was alright."

During this brief soliloquy, my eyes go back once more to Gi. He wears the expression of a man trying desperately to focus in a fog. His eyes roam from one woman to the next, his hands hanging at his sides slowly clench and splay, the graceful fingers retracting and extending like a cat on a thick rug, and that erection outlined beneath the robe...

I want to see it. Why shouldn't I? Why can't I, just like they are, sit back and let him? Why am I such a ninny about this when they're all just...

"I've held you all up long enough." I turn back to smile at the AhnIe. "Really. I hear what you're saying and I'm fine." I assure her again. But I can say it. Just say it, Laura. "He clearly wants to show us something and you'd all like..." stop it. Why put it on them? You aren't fooling anybody. "I think I'd enjoy that too," I feel myself wince, "at this point." I add. But there, at least I said it.

The AhnIe's smile is radiant. "But, of course." she says.

"Poor Gi thought you'd never ask." Dora teases me.

The AhnIe turns to 'poor Gi' and, "You heard the ambassadress." she says simply and waves her hand as if shooing away his robe.

I turn to see what I've asked for.

It's quick.

Gi's hands are already undoing the tie of his robe, his head down in eager concentration as he answers "Yes, AhnIe."

He gets it undone and moans audibly as he hurriedly pulls it open. His hips thrust forward and his body seems to shudder in pleasure as his fully erect penis springs out and bobs excitedly.

I glimpse the large purple head as it sways and the lean musculature of this young man but, even though I am expecting it, I find myself reflexively looking away from what's in front of me.

In my peripheral vision I see Ariane strip the robe back off of his shoulders and drape it over the chair I had originally been sitting in.

I did ask for this but I find my intellectual acceptance of the situation unequal to my conditioned, defensive responses.

"Ah!" Dora purrs approvingly. "Nice and eager."

The AhnIe laughs softly.

I scrutinize AhnIe's expression for some appropriate reaction to mimic, but I am visually schizophrenic; my mental focus is on the image of Gi's penis in my peripheral vision even as I look down the line of women in search of a response I might mirror. How does one react in this situation? What's proper?

But it's no use; soft smiles, intent gazes, unruffled calm; they model nothing within reach of my current nervous state to mimic. Even the servant woman, Chenin, leans slightly forward from her place behind the AhnIe's chair with an unassuming air of pleased interest, her eyes focused forward and down as if... as if...

In the quiet that follows, Gi's excited breathing only adds to the incongruity. The women take their time as if intentionally delaying to gauge his reaction to this extended, silent appraisal before continuing.

Say something! I can't simply turn and stare at him. Not like this. This is getting awkward... for me.

The AhnIe finally speaks, but it's hardly normalizing.

I watch her eyes elevate and drop as she looks Gi up and down, then, "Further apart." she says with a wave of her hand. "Present your balls."

"Yes, AhnIe." Gi moans this more than says it and in my peripheral vision I see him shift, widen his stance and, "Thank you." he exhales like he's...

"What?" the question slips out of me without my intending to say it out loud.

The AhnIe looks my way and says, "I want him to present his balls." as if I simply hadn't heard her. She nods at me, motions towards Gi as if to say, 'see for yourself', then turns her attention back to him.

Fine then, Laura, go on; just look.

I do.

Cedera; Appraisal

I feel it in the pit of my stomach; lower too but there is always something more centered to it.

"Present your balls."

Lovely to hear AhnIe say that, to see the strong thighs open, the hips roll under, the arms lift to rest the hands on his buttocks, to hear that grateful "Thank you," and see the look on his face, his mouth slightly open, his ass clenched tight with the excitement of offering himself for evaluation.

It's not just the thing itself; they are invariably lovely and well formed; but in that first, eager exposure they evoke all the implications and anticipatory pleasures and privileges of Nymnian womanhood in a visual, visceral rush. But always, most vividly, it is a sense of power in its purest form; obedience without compulsion. He wants my opinion, craves my approval. This is the essence of sexual selection; men chase, men dance, men sing, men build, men fight, men preen, men strut... women talk, compare... women choose.

"What?" the ambassadress asks in a little voice.

But the image speaks for itself, doesn't it?

"I want him to present his balls." the AhnIe answers.

Indeed, nothing more to it.

But hearing it again makes his hips jerk slightly, causes his breath to catch and that handsome cock to bob excitedly as his eyes go up and down the line trying to read our reactions.

I sense his gaze on me in turn but don't look up to meet it. This is not the 'personality' part of the evaluation. He knows it too, and the tension in those strong, open thighs and clenched ass tell me he wants my attention right where it is. Good for him. If being evaluated this way did not excite him, he wouldn't be suitable. For his pleasure and my own, I indulge my role as the conscientious gate-keeper for the wives of Nymnia. Only the best shall pass.

This is a fine entry. Lean, strong, he is, perhaps, a bit more slender than ideal, but well-muscled and sleek. As to the more specific and eagerly proffered items for immediate inspection, his cock appears to be a worthy trophy for the goddess. Hips under and forward, it rises up from a thick root between his balls with a classic gentle arc to a very large, handsomely heart shaped head that juts up well past his navel. His balls are evenly hung and, while average in size, are well articulated, the sack pleasingly taut. For my taste average is fine for balls. I am not as fond of very large ones as some wives are. His aren't small by any means. Very pleasing really.

"Turn." the AhnIe directs.

"Yes, AhnIe."

He does.

Even better in profile, that lovely tumescent arc. Look how prettily it dances for us. So excited, and he hasn't touched it yet. The young ones can be so sweet that way.

The prior conversation has clearly worked him up considerably. Great entertainment potential for the wives in that. Some are more susceptible to verbal stimulus than others, but a bit of graphic sexual banter and appraisal from the wives can be wonderfully encouraging for them and amusing for us. Such a sweet young man, I can't resist some teasing commentary myself.

"Nice hang to his balls in profile." I observe.

I'd like to handle them if it wasn't a distraction to the proceedings. But the point of saying it is not information, but pleasure, for both of us. Giving my opinion deepens that lovely sense of entitlement to enjoy young men this way, a sense redoubled by his reaction; that soft groan and,

"Thank you, m'lady."

the way he strains to push his hips forward even more to display them in his excitement at my approval.

"Decent." Dora caveats, "But that's a splendid cock. Don't you think, AhnIe?"

"Thank you, m'lady." Gi exhales and it twitches prettily for us again.

"Hush, Gi." the AhnIe scolds with a gentle laugh. "We'll address you if we need a response. Let us talk among ourselves."

I see him bite his lip to suppress the reflexive; 'Yes, AhnIe.' which is surely on the tip of his tongue.

"But, yes, Dora." the AhnIe continues. "I agree. But we should have known Ariane would not bring him to us otherwise."

Ariane smiles and nods.

"Yes, bravo Ariane." I add and find myself wishing again some version of the two of them together will be in the offing.

"Turn." the AhnIe instructs again.

He does.

Dora; request

I can overlook a lot for a cock like that. But the want of a nice ass, like the want of a handsome face, is not on that list. He's handsome enough, but let's see that ass.

He turns and thankfully the view is inviting. High, well rounded and...

"Arms up. Flex." the AhnIe tells him.

Decent lats and finely defined shoulders funneled to a narrow waist. His buttocks are taut and firm with lovely deep hollows on either cheek that catch the shadows as he flexes. Nothing to forgive or overlook in that.

I'm getting restless now to see him perform. I'll need to be fucked when I get home after this, but an afternoon of this kind of foreplay makes the ride so much more climactic. The thought makes me...

"May I?" I ask the AhnIe.

"Certainly" she answers.

"Go to the chair." I say. I just want to see this, make him... "Lean forward, hands on the arms." Ah yes, there, this is what they're born for and "Fuck for us." I tell him. Let's see him work it.

He seems a bit tentative at first; thrusting gently without much force, his legs too close together to give me what I want. But it's all part of the charm; seeing how they react to different requests. Who knows what he may be asked to do at the trials or to entertain guests at the temple; he needs to get used to being adaptable, even to anticipate what an audience might want.

"Open further and fuck." I tell him, intentionally brusque. "Show us."

I could be more graphic to excite him; tell him I want to see his cock and balls swinging under him, prodding that imaginary cunt for me; but in the heat of pleasure, they won't always be so pampered. He needs to be able to... yes, yes. Once what I want is in his head, he intuits my perspective as voyeur and complies excitedly; legs open, hips rolling back up to display nicely then forward with deliberate force to end, his ass clenched tightly in mimic of deep penetration, a lovely "Ahn!" of pleasure punctuating each imagined plumbing of the depths.

Yes, that's it. Let him go for a while.

"Ahn! Ahn! Ahn!"

Praise Ishea! I do love this! Such an upright young man, his cock barely dips down from his stomach as he withdraws and...

"Ahn! Ahn! Ahn! Ahn!"

"You can't be serious."

It is our little ambassadress. I had all but forgotten she was here.

Laura; objection

At first, it's my own lack of reaction that puzzles. That does seem a painfully large penis and he seems quite excited to be showing it off but... I'm not sure what I expected to happen when I let myself look; perhaps that my visual participation would trigger some escalation; like hiding from monsters under the bed covers as a child, imagining you're protected if you don't see them. But I look, and it triggers nothing in particular except a vaguely protective physical recoil, my legs pressed together more tightly, at the thought of that... Yet everyone else simply carries on as before.

Gi does notice my attention. He meets my eyes and there is a flash of excited recognition in his expression that makes me want to respond somehow, but there's no time for me to formulate what would be appropriate because it's just a brief stop in the agitated wandering of his gaze that continues to jump haphazardly from one to another of us... yes, 'us'.

And with that I momentarily slip into the flow of things.

So then, this is Gi 'presenting his balls'; knees slightly bent, thighs open, hips rolled under and forward to lift and present a pair of testicles pulled up on either side of the penis root, the scrotum stretched tautly between them, his hands lifted to rest on his buttocks behind, elbows back as if pushing his pelvis forward with them. I guess that's how you do it. And it certainly looks like what it sounds like.

What exactly are we looking for here? I don't think I've ever just looked at a man's genitals, a live one at least rather than in a text.

No hair on his scrotum, so maybe it wasn't just artistic license in that fresco. Looks odd without hair but it does show the shape and...

"Turn." the AhnIe directs.

"Yes, AhnIe."

He does.

Like inspecting a bull at the market, I guess; look him over from all angles. But, uhnm, this bull is very excited. His penis jerks upward and bobs. From the side, his posture, pushing it forward that way... Is this really necessary to determine anything or is this some kind of ritual?

His penis continues to twitch excitedly; that's nice how it does that. Like it wants our attention.

"Nice hang to his balls in profile." Cedera says.

The things these women just say! My eyes go to her, this middle-aged woman in her green robe, a soft smile on her face. She's having fun with this it seems.

Gi lets out a soft moan and "Thank you, m'lady."

Which brings my eyes back to him; not him, exactly, I realize, but his 'balls', because it seems oddly unavoidable with what they're saying and his obvious eagerness for this, his back arched and holding them out there that way.

"Decent." Dora quibbles as if there were some standardized testicular rating system in play here or... "But that's a splendid cock." she adds.

Ah, he liked hearing that. His hips thrust and his cock... that's what they call it. I don't talk that way. Look at it twitch though. Is he doing that on purpose to show it off?

"Don't you think, AhnIe?" Dora seeks the AhnIe's opinion.

Gi's penis certainly hopes she does, stiffening and straining again as he gasps, "Thank you, m'lady."

Alright, I do like the look of that. He's just...

"Hush, Gi." the AhnIe scolds him gently.

I have to agree, even if the view is... pleasant, this gasping and moaning is getting a bit awkward. Isn't he the least bit worried how this looks? I mean, with us just sitting here and him...?

"We'll address you if we need a response." the AhnIe says. "Let us talk among ourselves."

Talk among ourselves. How much more could there be to say about this?

"But, yes, Dora." the AhnIe continues. "I agree. But we should have known Ariane would not bring him to us otherwise."

Ariane smiles and nods, apparently quite proud of herself in the role of temple procuress.

"Yes, bravo Ariane." Cedera pipes up.

I look away from Gi and down the line of women; not a wisp of irony in anyone's expression. They are relaxed, focused but... enjoying themselves.

"Turn." the AhnIe says and waves her hand at him casually.

I watch her watch Gi; she is intent and,

"Arms up. Flex." she instructs in a business-like tone.

She watches. Her head tilts very slightly to one side and then she nods thoughtfully as if...

I turn and Gi is... lovely from behind; wide shoulders, narrow waist, sculpted buttocks, the muscles in his back and arms... These women do know how to pose them. I give them that.

"May I?" Dora asks from beside me.

"Certainly" the AhnIe answers.

I look at Dora. She seems agitated.

"Go to the chair." she says, her tone sounding oddly imperious after the polite requests from the AhnIe.

She shifts restlessly side to side in her chair, as if working up to something, her eyes narrowing as she watches and,

"Lean forward, hands on the arms." she orders peremptorily.

This sudden shift of tone and the way her expression hardens as she watches catches me by surprise.

"Fuck for us."

Gods, such language! That's a bit...

I look down the line. The AhnIe seems to have no particular reaction. Cedera snorts as if this is mildly amusing. Chenin's brows go up and "Oh." she says softly.

My eyes come back to Dora. 'Fuck for us'? Who says that? And what does she even... But her expression is intent as she watches whatever Gi is doing.

What, exactly...?

His buttocks flex; at first that's all that registers. He's in front of the chair I first sat in, leaning forward, most of his weight supported by his arms, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, his hips moving forward and back in some parody of intercourse with the empty air in front of him.

Let me get this straight; some woman says 'fuck' and he just does this?

"Open further and fuck." Dora says this softly, but imperiously as if faintly amused or irritated.

Gods! I look at Dora. She's got to be...

"Show us." she demands.

Really.

I watch Dora's face. A satisfied, appraising smile thins her tight lips, her chin lifts slightly and she leans back in her chair as she watches.

Gi is grunting or moaning and it draws my eyes back to...

"Ahn! Ahn! Ahn! Ahn!"

Legs open, hips pulled back and up, buttocks in the air, a bizarrely blatant and unflattering display of his genitals before he thrusts down and forward and...

"Ahn!" the clenched buttocks, arched back, straining.

"Ahn! Ahn!"

Those hairless testicles and downward pointing erection lifting into as his lower back arches to display and then...

"Ahn! Ahn!"

It's embarrassing to watch. What is this supposed to prove?

I turn back to Dora. "You can't be serious."

I feel suddenly again that this has to be some extended practical joke they're all playing on the naive woman 'from away'.

Horny and excited or not, even Gi must feel ridiculous doing this!

Dora turns to meet my gaze.

"Serious?" she asks.

"Ahn! Ahn!"

Gods! "Have him stop that." I need that to stop because it's just...

She seems puzzled but,

"Gi, that's enough." she says watching my expression closely.

A final, "Ahn!", but mercifully it's the last.

I can feel the heat in my cheeks and suddenly my sense of inclusion here evaporates. I'm focused on Dora but I can feel them all looking at me.

"Okay." Dora says after waiting a moment for me to say something further. "You have a question?" one eyebrow lifts.

Do I have a question?

"No, I..." reconsider, "Yes, it's... You can't be serious." I repeat myself; it's all I can manage.

"Oh." Dora says after a moment. She clearly doesn't know what to make of this. Then, "Serious how?" she asks.

The nervous clutter in my head and body is settling down some. Thank the gods he stopped doing that. But with this distraction gone, I realize I'm making myself the center of attention here again when I should just be observing, enjoying,... whatever. But I can't shake the feeling Dora did that just to rattle me and get a reaction.

"Surely you don't, I mean, you don't do that with all of them." I say.

Dora cocks her head, frowns as if I had asked a trick question.

"Uhnn, No." she answers deliberately. "Not that. If you mean the pretend fucking?"

I find myself jarred again by the casual obscenity of this and can't immediately formulate a response.

"I just liked his back side" she continues after a moment, "and wanted to see the hang and swing of him from behind as he delivers his prick." she blinks at my expression, frowns, "If he fucks on stage, he'll need to..." she begins to explain but her voice trails off.

She's looking at me intently as if it has suddenly occurred to her my difficultly here is not 'practical'.

My turn to explain, but I'm blanking; my head stuck on the phrase 'hang and swing'. It's as if these women had mastered reverse euphemism; it surely captures the image, which returns distractingly to my mind's eye; 'hang and swing'.

Again, my inability to formulate a coherent response prompts a further...

"I thought he showed well." Dora adds, brows raised skeptically. "Are you...?" her voice trails off once more and she looks away towards the AhnIe.

"There's no set routine here." the AhnIe interjects, leaning forward in her chair to look past Dora. "I'm not sure what 'serious' means in this context. Seeing him that way troubled you?" she asks.

Troubled? Was I troubled?

"No. Not troubled. It's just, making him do that seems..." I break off as I realize I am injecting my own... but it is what it is, "demeaning." there, I said it.

"And?" AhnIe asks.

She is gazing at me politely as if waiting for some further clarification.

"And?" I echo. What more could possibly be said? But they're all just staring at me as if I'm the one who's...

I look away to gather my thoughts but that simply brings my eyes to that handsome, naked and very aroused young man and his 'guide' now standing facing us again, attentively... attentive.

Gods, that penis seems to have a life of its own. Hard not to look at it with him...

"You can tell he enjoys the attention," Ariane says, then looks at me closely, "can't you?" she asks as if it had just occurred to her, I might be visually as well as intellectually myopic.

But even so, are these women really so besotted with their mythologizing about the goddess that they can't see the obvious?

"He's young and..." really, so young, and given what they've told me, 'inexperienced' would not be quite right, but still, "and very excitable." I say, glancing momentarily at Gi who, surely, must know this. "And it seems you're just taking advantage of him because he's..." well, this is surely true, "less experienced and not as mature. But he's not just some animal or..."

"Oh!" Ariane's expression brightens, as if she suddenly sees the source of my confusion. "No. Not just, but of course he's..." she turns her eyes towards him "He's a splendid, strong, young," she enthuses and steps up close beside him, her hand sweeping forward, "beast of an animal." and with that her delicate fingers curl around the shaft of his penis and, "That's exactly" she says as Gi moans, "what he is." Her hand clenches as she squeezes the shaft tight. The head flushes dark with blood.

She looks back at me and, "And we are most certainly taking utmost advantage of that." she says motioning with her eyes to what's in her hand. "Look." she laughs at my hesitation. "That's why he's here. To be taken advantage of."

I look.

Her small, delicate hand clamped around the base, she waves it to and fro for me.

"He is 'immature', as you say, at least in terms of life experience and character development. But not sexually. His urges are appropriate to his age. He's twenty-two, and this lovely cock of his is perpetually erect and seeking attention. So maybe, really, it's him who's taking advantage here, getting all this female attention and sexual release in return for following a few simple rules and directions." Her hand begins to move up the shaft, "A lady's best friend, right here;" she teases, slipping upward until, "every day, every hour," her circled fingers bump the fat underside of the head and her thumb sweeps up over the tip making him moan softly, "this is what's on his mind and between his legs." she smirks and teases the head more vigorously with her thumb making his hips jerk.

His face is a mask of dazed concentration watching her hand work. Does he realize how this looks to just stand there shuddering and gasping while she does this, talks about him this way?

"That doesn't stop him from being a charming young man," she continues with a girlish giggle, "Oh so very polite and helpful." her hand slips back down the shaft. "He earns his keep, does his chores, has his plans and ambitions." her circled fingers press down hard to the base, "But this" she squeezes the circled fingers hard again and wags it back and forth, "how could we possibly waste this, just for the sake of pretending... what? That he isn't an animal? Oh no." she coos, and suddenly her hand is sweeping up and down his penis, fast and hard making his balls jump along in rhythm with her strokes.

His back arches and his head falls back.

"Ah, yes m'lady!" he gasps.

It's brief, her strokes vigorous but deft, like a trained musician with her instrument of choice; wracking him breathless then stopping abruptly, the tight circled fingers jammed down tight once more to the base to display him. The sudden cessation seems to wrack him as desperately as her strokes did.

"Ah, yes m'lady!" he shudders, his penis purple and twitching in her hand.

"We must take advantage of this." Ariane says with a soft laugh and...

"Please, m'lady, yes!" Gi pleads, his penis, clamped at the base by her tight fingers, jerking rhythmically. "Yes!"

Well, alright; I do like the looks of that. He wants this, so why should I care? Whatever else it may say about him or me, watching her handle him this way, his excitement, her control, showing him off while we... discuss it... him, and...

This is good. Well, not 'good', not in that way. I know that just because he's young and horny and these women can use that to advantage doesn't make it right or any less demeaning; or at least, it certainly would be if this got around about some guy in Gaeldon. But that isn't my problem, right? Just the way things are here and they'd be doing this even if I wasn't here to see it. So, given that, well, it's kind of nice to see him standing there naked and out of breath with his penis throbbing that way in her grip. Why is this a problem? I'm just here to observe and, okay, enjoy.

Chenin; dress up

Demeaning; that's a good word for it. Don't know why we can't all just agree to that. That isn't the point, of course; to demean him. And he does love it. But that doesn't change what it is.

But Ariane wants to "explain" it all, even as she reaches in and takes his cock in the most demeaning way, treating him just like the play thing he is, that he wants to be; she calls him an animal, wags his cock back and forth and tells Laura to look at it, but then goes off on how this doesn't mean he's not also a lovely young man.

Well, so what if he is? It's not like I'm denying my butcher's humanity just because I only visit when I want meat. He has a role, a use, a service to provide, an aptitude I take polite but shameless advantage of. I don't fret (and neither does he) that what I care about are the pork chops and not his deepest loves and fears.

Same with Gi here. Like most young men his age he needs to do something with that. Lucky him, he's hung well enough and has a pretty face and likes to show off and gets turned on by taking orders from women. Sure, that last is a learned response, but once they learn it, if he's good with his tongue and fingers; something Ariane should have seen to; and he can come a couple of times and still get it up (usually not a problem at this age), we've got a use for him.

So why all this talk, talk, talk; trying to dress this up as if it were all some sort of community service.

Maybe it is. I'm plenty glad they do it, that they can be trained for this, but that doesn't change what it is. I don't say any of that, of course. It would be 'unkind', wouldn't it? But it's nice to hear the lady 'from away' cut through all the pretty explanation.

Before I was married, which was not so long ago, I resented how the wives controlled access to all of the young men. Plenty of boys would have been interested in me and I could have taken the Roha and avoided trouble just as easily as my mother or older (married) sister. But no, all the young men were for the goddess, a. k. a. the wives.

Now that I'm married, I do see the advantages to it. But I still can't see why, really, unmarried girls can't be given a bit more leeway to experiment. We could have played games like this with them without becoming romantically involved. At least our mothers could have let us watch sometimes when they'd get together to train up the prospects they were guiding. Admittedly, though, as girls we were all more interested in having the boys pay attention to us rather than toying with them this way. I understand now why giving in to that back then with immature guys could create problems; impractical romantic infatuations... whatever.

Ah yeah, Ari, that's it! Jerk him, jerk him fast! Make those balls bounce! Nice, nice and, then, the quick stop; he's moaning and pleading, his cock doing the Ulim dance for us, trying to spurt come but she's got it clamped off. Ah she's good; she knows her prop. He'd shoot even now if she just released the pressure. Very sweet.

He does show well. And the ambassadress is apparently warming to the presentation; examining what's offered now without having to be told to.

Later they'll say they were just trying to make our guest comfortable with all this explanation. Sure. But who really cares? Let her be uncomfortable.

The truth is, flaunting this in front of foreigners, especially foreign women, is a kick. Fuck the whole 'cultural understanding' stuff; it's just really fun to show off for these underachieving women from away who think... whatever they think. Ariane's having a great time being the AhnIe's cultural messenger.

She let's go of his cock and I watch the little exchange of looks between her and the AhnIe as she checks to see if this way of working him is still good for evaluation purposes. Apparently so.

Fine with me, too. I'm liking this.

Ariane steps in a bit closer to Gi, reaches from behind, up between his legs. Uhnm, that's right; play with his balls. Show the little Gaelic bitch what real women do.

She keeps talking; telling this Laura some elaborate bullshit about how coaxing the come out of those balls she's handling fits in with the 'big picture'.

They do love to talk. It's all part of the showing off. Bet the ambassadress and her friends don't get to play like this in Gaeldon.

But, come on; there's no big picture. Well, maybe there is, but nobody handles the guys this way for the 'big picture'. We do it for the enjoyment of it; for this right here; the way he opens his legs and moans and arches his back, how his eyes jump from one to the other of us up and down the line in his excitement, hoping we like what we see so he can be our temple fuck toy for a year or so. Who can blame them for wanting that, really? I mean, if you got the stuff; easy life, three squares and sex.

Ariane is providing quite the tutorial here. She plays with his balls with one hand and his mind with her slut talk, pretending it's all about being 'frank' and 'open' with our guest.

"He's dying to empty these balls for our entertainment." Ariane says.

That's true enough. But saying it, like the rest here, is just showing off; make him moan, get him to beg. I like it. So do the rest or they wouldn't be here conducting interviews, despite all the hoohaa about 'duty'.

This Laura, she's no dummy. She got close to it with that 'demeaning' remark.

Is it 'better' this way? For all of us?

Probably.

So what? That's just the excuse for it, not the attraction of it.

Sure, it isn't as if being used for what they're good for is bad for them. We select these boys for appealing and serviceable cocks, tight bodies, handsome faces and eagerness to serve as directed. We train them up to "honor the goddess" which means being eye candy at the ceremonies as they fill the priestesses cup with their semen or send a volley to greet the wilding maid as she ascends the dais. Then they 'serve', which means we use them for a year or two for sport, entertainment and pleasure when we fulfill our 'obligation' to visit the temple with our husbands. Then they're replaced in their turn by the next bunch we've sorted and trained for the purpose. Nice that it all turns out to be good for 'society' and order and all.

But thinking about that 'big picture' stuff, how it all works out for the best, that just distracts you from the pure joy of using them this way. Joy isn't even really the right word. It's more like some giddy kind of aggression or agitation that gets into me when I see them like this, when I think about it and... Sure, it gets me horny, but it's sweeter than that. It's power, and I like it.

So 'demeaning' is a good word. Why can't we just say that and enjoy it that way? Even if it's all for the best.

It seems our ambassadress is, at last, 'comfortable'.

"Well," she says with a diffident shrug after Ariane explains what motivates our animal Gi, "I don't mean to hold things up."

I'll bet she doesn't.

"Oh, but you're not, dear." AhnIe tells her. "This is just right for him."

I agree. Teasing them is more enjoyable than the offering.

There's nothing much to it when a guy comes, for all the hype we make about it. If you asked me, the hype is mostly just to excite them and make them feel appreciated. I like to see a guy come but really, what's in it for me?

"Still, this has taken longer than usual," Dora notes, "and we still have one more to get through today."

She's always in a rush. Seems more eager than the men themselves sometimes for the 'grande finale'. Winds her up to see it; you can tell. But then what? They'd probably each be good for three or four rounds, at least with a little encouragement. But we don't get to try that out with them today. This is just your basic show and tell to see what we have to work with. My husband, Rand, will get the benefit of Gi and the others later when I come home twitchy and hot from a day of this. But for these guys, at least today, once they come, they're done. So, what's the hurry?

But nobody asks me. I'm just the usher.

"Perhaps we should try them together." Dora suggests.

Hnmm. There's a thought.

Cedera; Possession

I think I've already seen all I need on this one. Unless he's come shy when we ask for it, Gi will be a welcome addition for the wives at the trials. He certainly shows all the signs of being ready on request. Still, it's a requirement one can't simply assume they'll meet without testing it.

Every now and then you get one who's reliably 'on command' in private, but can't make it happen for a crowd without interminable flogging. A young man needs the proper encouragement, so, as we have with Gi here, the wives take pride and pleasure in teasing and provoking them to make sure they're fully primed for it. But even then, orgasm on cue still requires that last bit of surrender, something that's not always automatic after the restraint they must exercise while being teased, or as often the case, pleasuring themselves to keep on edge waiting for the request. For most who make it this far, conditioned by their experiences with a good guide, the triggers are ingrained; knowing when it's wanted, having a woman request it, or better still, a group of women asking for it; as long as the young man has reached a certain stage of arousal, just the excitement of knowing the wives want it, and want it now, will push them to it.

But every now and then having a crowd will distract them, or the formality of the ceremonies or... who knows what gets into their heads?

But I can't imagine that with Gi, given the way he's responding. She brought him right to the edge there, then cut him off. I expect he'll spurt on command and make a good show of it. But I certainly wouldn't deny him the pleasure of proving me right. That would be unkind, to both of us.

I feel, as I often do, a sudden wave of gratitude and affection for these young men. They are such a divine gift; Ishea be praised for these darlings and for leading me to Nymnia.

Just when I feel I'm getting complacent, there comes a young man like this who restores my sense of joyful lust and wonder. They are precious blooms in Ishea's garden of flesh and spirit. Gi is possessed; a carefully cultivated state of erotic surrender to the goddess. Not a 'natural' state, but one induced, like the visionary trances of other gods, through social conditioning, selection for susceptibility, artifice to accentuate and then orchestrating the correct physical and psychological cues and conditions to trigger and sustain it.

When I first heard Nymnian women talking about "possession" by the goddess, I blew it off. After what I'd been through before coming here, the life of a Nymnian wife was paradise, and I didn't care what they told themselves about the goddess or anything else. I just took these young men and the (then) inexplicable consent of my new husband that I should enjoy them, with a grateful indifference as to cause and effect. I was in such haste. I just wanted mine before it all collapsed or evaporated. I couldn't conceive how it could be sustained.

But, time, experience, security, love, children and pleasure all taught me to slow down and see with unclouded eyes. Gi and his like are but single pearls in Ishea's opulent string; flesh made translucent by her touch; possession. Over the years I have come to realize the false dichotomy the term can imply. In truth the distinction between whether it is the goddess who captures and possesses the flesh, or the flesh that captures and possesses the goddess, is a distinction without a difference.

Gi moans and seethes; thighs, chest, stomach, shoulders, hips and cock all twitching, clenching and releasing with ripples and spasms of barely restrained pleasure as Ariane plays with his balls. His gaze wanders across the six of us, seeking, finding, seeking again the gaze of the goddess, imploring her favor, pleading for ours. He is past distraction; his mind and body twisted into one taut sinew of awareness; the bow string of pleasure drawn by Ishea's hand, craving release yet waiting upon her command.

I know the look, the slightly absent expression behind the mask of pleasure. He is both inside and yet beyond himself.

Possession is a cultivated flower. It has taken generations of innovation and tradition, art and artifice, persuasion, seduction and, I suspect, selective breeding by female choice, to prepare the soil that this bloom might flourish. Like all things beautiful and fine, it is an exaggeration, an exuberance, a pointless sensuality serving only itself... and us.

Praise Ishea.

Laura; Choosing words

I see what they're doing, of course.

They're stretching things out, talking dirty to him.

'Dirty'; that's an artless word for this extended verbal... whatever it is. I'll need something more descriptive than 'dirty' when I write this up. It's clearly not just random crudity; it's a calculated part of the sport they're having with him.

There again; 'sport'; does that capture it? There's certainly a playful element to it; they say something, watch him groan and shudder, make him answer, scold him for answering, take turns at him. Can we maybe say "balls" or "cock" one more time and still make his twitch? Silly how easily that seems to work on him. So, sure; 'sport'; that's pretty much it. Not that he's complaining.

I'm starting to enjoy that aspect of it - the sport - now that I know they aren't just doing it to rattle me. They're using me as the pretext, I do get that, but they aren't laughing behind their hands at my expense. They're just enjoying the opportunity I afford to cock tease him. Hey, that's... but no. I couldn't use that term in my report; wouldn't be professional. But watching that penis twitch and bob as they verbally work him over... 'cock tease'. Maybe I could use it; if I put it in quotes and provide a definition in the glossary. That's funny.

"Taking advantage is the whole point." Ariane tells me and wags his penis back and forth for us... for me really.

That's fine though. He wants it that way, so why disappoint him?

I sense him watching me as I look at it but that's alright. He moans and pushes it out at me. Yes, he likes my attention right there. So do I. That's a great penis, even if I don't have a lot to compare it with.

Ariane lets go of it. For a moment he's just standing there and I get the whole display without her hand in the way. Display; what else would you call this? He's 'on display', his genitals in particular; that's obviously the point here. But the word seems to sanitize things too much. People are 'on display' all the time; at court, public festivals... but this young man is 'exposed', not just physically, he's...

Why over analyze?

I like the looks of him. More than that, I like the freedom of just looking... looking where I want with him and the others knowing... but especially him; just looking and not being hurried or feeling conflicted about it. I could get used to this sort of no-strings voyeurism.

I like his testicles with no hair. They say 'balls'; improper or not, that really is better than 'testicles'. So why don't I just say that? Not that I have much occasion for such talk, but I have to write this up and what else would work for this? 'Nuts', 'stones'? No, too slang, like you're trying to avoid things with creative sarcasm. Then there's gonads; I'm not writing a medical text, just a report, and 'balls'...

Uhnm. Ariane's hand up between his legs from behind, slender fingers rolling them in the sack.

Yes. Balls. That's the word. Has a little umph to it.

Ariane is saying something absurdly graphic about how the young men are trained to "spurt come on cue." Something to do with the ceremonies and timing of things, the wives placing bets on them.

Oh, he likes her telling me that; yes, he does!

And then she's on about the needed restraint for service or 'group play', all of this sort of jumbled together like she's giving examples or... I don't follow it. I just like watching and don't really want to be distracted by my own reactions to these verbal games anymore. Gi is distracted enough for both of us.

I look back and forth between his face and her hand, listen to him groan and watch his breath catch as she 'cock teases' him, providing 'information' to the ambassadress. The things she's saying are translated by his body; the bob and twitch of that lovely penis, the flex of his thighs and stomach; the translation is much better than the original text.

Do the rest of us get to handle him? Would that be 'good for him' as well? Can the ambassadress play with his 'balls' too? What if I said it would help with my report?

I meet his eyes. He knows that's what I'm thinking; what else would I be thinking? I get an especially sweet shudder from him when I look back down. He'd love it if I did. He'd...

"He's dying to empty these balls for our entertainment." Ariane says as if I needed reminding.

But I get it; she's saying this stuff to tweak him, for the 'sport' of it, so it's more with the 'balls' talk. That's so artless I can't help but giggle at it when I see what it does to him.

He's looking at me and his hips thrust and "Yes, m'lady!"; a desperate, breathless whisper.

Queen Elanor would love that! It's just the sort of stuff she was hoping to hear. And all this talk. How much could I actually report verbatim, accurate or not? But she'd love it.

So, all this about how he wants to come; I have no objections to that. They should go ahead with it, but they seem to be waiting for me to say something about it.

I tell them I don't want to hold things up and the AhnIe says;

"Oh, but you're not, dear. This is just right for him."

Just right?

Ariane's still handling him and his whole body is... it's like little convulsions and every time he looks at me and sees I'm watching, it's like I set off another one in him. This is torture; but can you really call it that? He's so eager for it.

But really, he's doing it to himself as much as we are; he's letting these women and all this silly talk into his head. Even me; he's letting me 'cock tease', and I'm not even trying... well, not really. But it's like he's desperate to show us the pleasure it causes him to be toyed with this way.

Well, it's a performance, right? I get that, I guess. But it does seem to feed on itself; like it excites him to show his excitement but he also knows he gets more from these women as he makes it more entertaining for them to toy with him... and so back again. Still, it's smoke and mirrors; he's making something out of nothing. After all, what are we? Just six ordinary women ganging up on an over excited young (so very young) man who's bought into some myth of sexual 'service' when it's all just... sport.

It's okay to enjoy this. Nobody here knows me. My part in any of this, how I think or feel, that's not going in my report. I can play the naive voyeur for them, for him, if that's how they want it. I am the naive voyeur; so why not?

AhnIe was right; I am not the anonymous note taker. I am Laura, ambassadress of Queen Elanor. The technical formality of my role adds an unexpected bit of erotic spice to this. I can play with that. Shall I announce that it's a matter of diplomatic urgency? 'I must see this young man ejaculate!'

Hnmmmm. Just saying that, even to myself, just in my head... maybe I should be playing this game for real, not just in my head. But I should say 'come', not ejaculate. Or again, maybe the formality is better; ejaculate.

I get why these women talk. Why they enjoy it? It fits with the game. Like throwing a javelin; you wouldn't be doing that in the dining hall, but out in the field with a target pleading to be hit... pleading... Getting my metaphors mixed watching his penis plead; yeah, that's a good description of it.

So, I could just say it. Nobody would be shocked. Go on, Laura, say it; I want to see him come. Uhhhunm. No, no, really say it, the way they would. It's a game to make the penis plead, ha, that's good, so maybe say it like she did; I want to see him 'empty his balls for our entertainment.'

Gods! That's too much! Silly. Trying too hard.

I could use that in the report though; in quotes of course; "he 'emptied his balls' for the ambassadress' entertainment". And if they ask, well, those aren't my words; it's just how these exotic foreign women talk. I'm just reporting.

I shift in my chair. My panties are wet. Do these women have anything under those robes that helps with that? Go on though, Laura, nobody's listening but you, what does her majesty's ambassadress want?

I want to see semen shoot from the head of his penis like those young men in the frescoes. Uhnm! Crude but effective. But say 'cock'; why not say cock? I should try it with cock and see.

But whatever; it's true; I want to see it. He's gonna do it anyway. Never seen that, so why not now?

Would it 'help' if I told them that? Say it properly though, to fit with my ingenue status? Bat my diplomatic eyes at gasping Gi and say; 'I've never seen a man ejaculate before.' I bet...

"Still," Dora's voice beside me startles me a bit, "this has taken longer than usual, and we still have one more to get through today."

I look towards her and realize I haven't taken my eyes off of Gi since Ariane started handling him. The context of all this comes back to me; where I am, what I'm doing...

Dora is smiling at me.

Gods, this has gotten me way too worked up. She can see that, I'm sure. But, so what? Dora's been worked up from the start; telling him to "fuck" like he was some sort of circus animal. Maybe that's just what he is. Not my job to straighten this out. I smile back at her.

"Perhaps we should try them together." she says.

Is she asking me?

"Sure, I guess." And we are laughing.

"Whatever that means." I manage after a bit.

"More for your report." Dora teases.

"More is good." I answer and her eyes change like she sees I get this now.

But do I really? The possibilities of what 'another' and 'trying them together' could entail start flitting around inside my head like trapped bats in an attic.

Laura! You should not be doing this.

"I mean," I look past Dora down the line to the AhnIe and Cedera, "this isn't up to me, but..." just make him come or let me... whoa, whoa. What the hell am I saying? Who is this woman in my head? "I don't want to hold things up." I manage to repeat.

I look back at Gi.

Ariane isn't playing with his balls anymore. They hang beneath that lovely penis looking lonely. I could fix that; that and a lot else.

The thoughts in my head are getting out of hand. This is not who I am!

But, so what? Just thoughts; let them go. When are you ever going to be able to do or see anything like this again?

Sure. Bring in the 'other one'. Two like this would be fine. Laura wants to see another penis. Ha, that's funny. But come on, Laura, just say it.

"I think I'd like that." There, was that so hard to spit out?

Gods! Did I say that?

"Well, by all means then." the AhnIe says.

I don't look at her but I can hear the amusement in her voice.

Yeah, so what? You offered.

Not like I'm the only one enjoying this.

Dora; A young man 'so inclined'

Chenin is sent to fetch the other prospect and his guide. This may take a while depending on where they are in the process of preparation. They should at least be out of the baths at this point since Chenin would have sent word that the couple ahead of them, Gi and Ariane, had already been summoned for their interview. But between the interview itself and our discussion among evaluators afterwards, a prospect can occupy up to an hour of our time before we're ready to move on. We've dwaddled a bit with Gi, what with our ingenue ambassadress to entertain, but we've still only had him for twenty minutes or so. Whatever. A lull in the process may let me educate Laura a bit further; a task I have found surprisingly enjoyable despite my initial irritation with her.

My suggestion to have Laura stay was brilliant. I'm feeling almost giddy at how it's turned out. Her expression when I told him to fuck; just priceless! Calling it 'demeaning', and the way she squirmed.

She got over that quick enough. But to see what her reaction did to him! He's never provoked a reaction like that before, not among Nymnian women who are all he's ever known. He's been enthralled with Laura ever since. Her distress heightened his sense of his own exposure; an experience probably reminiscent of the excitement he felt early in his training when Ariane brought him out for his debut with a group. Laura's naive reactions let him see this all through fresh eyes. He's not sure what to expect, how Laura will react, and it's making him anxious and desperate to please, and the anxiety cranks everything up for him until he can hardly glance her way without feeling that burn in the root of his cock and... it's delicious to watch them together.

It reminds me of the effect on Mador, the last prospect I took on to guide, several years back now; of the way I staged his debut. Actually, it was rather too effective, but I'd love to tell her that story, see her reaction, especially with Gi here listening.              

Ariane's been playing it up beautifully; forcing him to focus on the "new girl" by using him as a prop for her detailed exposition.

Though I can see the ambassadress is steadying and beginning to enjoy herself, it still surprises me slightly when she agrees with my suggestion that we bring in another prospect.

A bit of hemming but then, "I think I'd like that." she says simply and her eyes go back to Gi to see his reaction.

He doesn't disappoint.

Ariane has stopped handling him, but that just leaves him all the more exposed, standing there, hands at his sides, his cock twitching, the pre-come glistening on the head, as we continue to 'discuss'.

So, we send Chenin to fetch the other one and while we wait Laura has a few more questions.

The ambassadress never takes her eyes off of Gi as she asks me;

"How often do you do this sort of thing?"

"Too seldom." I answer.

"I imagine." she smiles.

Gi moans in the back of his throat, shifts his stance restlessly.

"But only once a year, just to select for the trials."

"Hmn." she nods. "Just once."

"Just once."

"And how many" she motions, "like him?"

A hoarse, involuntary whisper of, "Yes, m'lady." escapes from Gi.

"How many?" she repeats.

"This year, a dozen or so new ones to add or to replace those aging out. Some years more, some less. There's always plenty who want the chance; just not all, as you say, like him."

"Uhnm, I imagine." she says again and her smile broadens as the approval in her voice makes Gi's hips thrust.

"So once a year," she continues, her voice gaining confidence, "and if you like them, then you send them to the trials?"

"Yes."

"And the trials, that's how often?"

"Just once a year. One afternoon and evening in the spring, after the sowing."

"Oh." She seems somewhat disappointed, "And so the wives bring their husbands and..."

"No. Not to the trials; no husbands at the trials. Only the wives and" I pause so as not to distract from Gi's shudder and ragged exhale at the reminder of what awaits him, "and as many of these as we can supply. Just once a year."

"And so that isn't..." she cocks her head slightly to the side, "you said once a year husbands and wives should come to the temple so that's..." she pauses.

"Different, yes." I finish for her.

"So, the trials are for what exactly?"

I resist the urge to give her a flippant answer; what, after all, would she suspect the wives would do with 'as many of these as we can supply?' But the functional evaluation aspect of the trials is more than just a pretext, so...

"To give them a more public exposure and weed out any who lack the temperament, skills or stamina needed for service at the temple."

"I thought that's what you were doing here." Laura says then laughs softly when this elicits a hoarse

"Yes!" from Gi.

"Oh no." I pooh, pooh, "This is just an initial interview to make sure the guides aren't presenting unsuitable young men for evaluation. They all tend to think their prospect is the nines. It's hard not to get attached to them if they're any good at all, and, of course, every wife thinks her method of teaching is the best."

Ariane chimes in at this point. "Kind of true." she says with a shrug and a laugh. "Though I've never brought you one you didn't pass."

Laura's expression shifts subtly yet again; you can see the wheels turning in her head. Her eyes roam over him like she's seeing him for the first time. In a way, she is. He's a carefully crafted artefact, a cult object in the purest sense; we wives of Nymnia have mastered the art of making these, using them, honoring them even, for the potency they possess.

"We can only sample them briefly today;" I continue, "a quick review to make sure they meet at least the basic expectations of the wives for the trials. But the wives will have them for the entire afternoon and evening. That's the real test of their fitness. But you understand, they all start out more or less rough and inexperienced. I'm sure we could all tell you a few stories about breaking them in to service as a guide. I was just thinking in fact of one from my own experience, starting out with a new prospect I had a few years back."

I'm sure she'll ask and I'm looking forward to giving her a quick but graphically informative rendition of my young Mador's debut.

Early on in their training a guide will usually host an informal get together for a few close women friends to break a new prospect in to the dynamics of group service. They won't have had much experience even with their guide at that stage, so these aren't elaborate affairs; often just a bit of inspection and handling followed by an offering while the women take refreshment. But starting this early is important for both prospect and guide to set the tone and expectations that, for all the personal pleasure either may derive from the relationship, the goal is temple service not romance.

These are usually pleasant but fairly low-key affairs for the experienced wives or widows who attend. But a young prospect is usually wound fairly tight in anticipation during his first group exposure. He's fantasized about it (or he wouldn't be in training) and a good guide does what she can to encourage and incite their already strong exhibitionist impulses for best results. For me, with Mador, that included staging his debut somewhat theatrically. Rather than bringing him in in the usual way and doing polite introductions all around with him dressed in his robe before proceeding, I wanted something more abrupt and 'dramatic' (at least from his point of view) to exploit his excitability and leave him with an intense memory to fuel his future fantasies of performing. No robe. No polite introductions. Just raw and sudden exposure to a group of strange women who say nothing but simply watch in silence.

That was the plan and it certainly worked on him, perhaps just a little too well. Such a fun story; I'm sure she's going to ask. But instead, I get,

"And, what is it with this 'm'lady' form of address." she asks.

Where did that come from?

"What do you mean, what is it?" I'm trying to guess what she wants to know about it but coming up blank, my mind still running over the Mador episode she so surely would not want to miss for her report. What else would a servant address her as?

She frowns. "I mean you're talking about having him..." pauses as if unsure, then, "ejaculate for you?"

"Come." I say. Not meaning to be critical but, why can't she just

"Yes, alright." she waves this off. "Come." she says and distracted momentarily by Gi's reaction seems to lose her train of thought for just a moment, but then "and you're all going on about his penis and, well; no one talks to or acts around a lady that way where I come from. And I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone here, well, I'm certainly not a 'Lady' by any stretch. So...?"

"Deference is essential." AhnIe jumps in from beside me, leaning forward in her chair to interject. "The forms of address reinforce the physical restraint, willingness to take direction and sexual patience required to serve. Beyond the Ie, he may be the scion of a noble house or a landless day laborer, but if he desires this role, he comes only to serve or we have no need of him. And no matter what their station beyond the Ie, every couple he is asked to serve here, the husband is to him a lord and the wife a lady, and as a servant of the goddess, within customary limits, he is at their complete disposal. This applies to the wives as well when they come to the temple to serve."

"Customary limits." Laura echoes, her gaze roaming over Gi as she considers, "He'll do what he's told then, like a slave."

Just when I thought she was getting this! What is it with these foreign perverts? It's all virgins and whores to them; as if a 'free' man or woman would never seek out and indulge these simple impulses and pleasures. Like their absurd dietary "laws" where it's 'evil' to eat black chickens or boil potatoes in an iron pot on Tuesdays... I have a sudden urge to reach out and smack her upside her squinty eyed little head. Does that look like a guy who isn't happy to be here? I feel AhnIe's restraining hand on my forearm as if she knows, (actually I'm sure she does know), what I'm thinking.

"No Laura." the AhnIe says softly but firmly, "Deference is not compulsion. There are plenty of opportunities for pleasure the goddess affords the men and women of Nymnia without any need for that. Young men who seek to serve, and the women who may choose to do so after marriage when their domestic duties afford them leisure to, take on these roles for the pleasure it affords them. Intense pleasures and urges, I suppose, can be a form of compulsion, but that is hardly what drives a slave to his task. I say again, not every man or woman finds pleasure in these roles or they may enjoy it only on occasion or..."

Her voice trails off and I feel her squeeze my arm slightly. She's been rambling on a bit, hoping to defuse my irritation. She has succeeded to some extent, but I still feel this is all too fluffy. Intense pleasures and urges are indeed compulsions; that's exactly why we condition prospects in ways that reward, reinforce and intensify the urges and pleasures that drive them to seek and fantasize about service in the first place. Gi may not be a slave, and, as the AhnIe seems to want to assure Laura, he could, in theory, simply give this up and go back to his village. But let's be clear; he's got no 'choice' in the matter as to whether he becomes sexually aroused and excited by being employed this way or, as AhnIe would have it; 'within customary limits.' And why would he want one? It's honorable service, congenial to his nature and will likely stand him in good stead in the marriage market once he's finished in a year or two. What would be his motivation to resist these urges? Sheer perversity? Masochistic self-abnegation?

Gods! I feel my irritation on the rise again.

"So, you're saying he likes it that way, being told what to do." she states more than asks.

"Well of course he does!" I break in a little more vehemently than I intended or the AhnIe is comfortable with, the gentle pressure on my arm becoming a firm clamp, so, "It's more than just liking it; being sexually directed, used and controlled by women is the prime ingredient in their pleasure," I pause, try to restrain my irritation, "within customary limits." I add a bit snarkily, turning to the AhnIe to roll my eyes. I mean, really! Laura's been watching this guy for the last, what, twenty minutes, and hasn't figured that out yet? She really needs to hear my Mador story. These young males are so primed...

AhnIe shakes her head slightly to ward me off, takes it in stride as though she hasn't already explained this.

"Well, yes, or we wouldn't have him here. Again, not all men do, of course, but for certain young men, and certain of the wives also," she adds as an aside, "but let's stick with the young men, since that is the example at hand."

"Yeah." Laura affirms, her eyes never leaving Gi. "Stick with that."

AhnIe nods. "For certain young men, deference, restraint and submission to feminine sexual prerogative greatly enhances their excitement and pleasure. The formalities, such as they are, set the tone and create the conditions to bring out the best in a young man so inclined."

Yeah. Mador was 'so inclined', and had the body and package to inspire me to present him with a little extra theater beyond the customary chat and strip in the parlor on his debut. I had him prepped in the bedchamber, laid out nicely for viewing, ready for his debut with a few close friends I'd invited. I had planned to take at least a bit of time with him, usher the girls in to a nice tableau with him stiff and spread on the bed, let them chat and etc. before a simple offer; nothing too demanding for a first performance. But the lead in, having him already laid out, worked up and waiting, then just opening the door and walking in on him with a group of women he'd never met, I certainly knew that would feel a bit 'abrupt' and add a kicker to the usual first-time nervous energy. And I played it up for him mercilessly before my friends arrived as I prepped him; having him work himself for me as I moved about the room pretending to be checking the view from different vantage points and adjusting his position in silly and even contradictory ways as if worried my guests might not all have the optimal presentation. All that just to get him picturing and fantasizing about multiple women, each with their own interest and reactions, here to be entertained, and then only to put him back where I started; feet towards the doorway, spread wide reclining on a few pillows so he was slightly propped up to be looking at us as we entered. I stood in the doorway, told him to keep working it so he was flushed and blue balled for us but not to be touching it when we came in.

'Let's see it.' I told him. He took his hand away and, "Spread a bit more, turn up, show some ass. Make them feel welcome. Up with the balls. There you are. Just like that. That's what I want. They'll be here any minute.' and closed the door.

Now, for all that, he's just a naked guy on a bed and these women had all seen plenty like him. That's the 'objective' view, right Laura? He could have seen through all this and not bought in to my theatrics, told himself it was stupid or... but why would he? Why would he want to disappoint me or my guests that way? He knows, even if I didn't continually remind him, that I take pleasure in flexing my goddess muscle working him up this way. And I don't need to beat my girlfriends with a stick to get them to come and help out. What's in it for him to resist when, as AhnIe notes, he's already 'so inclined?'

Oooh, but Laura, if Gi isn't example enough for you, wouldn't you like to know just how 'inclined' they can get with a little careful handling? Did Mador have a choice? Was he in there 'debating his options' as he listened to my girlfriends and I outside the door in the parlor chatting as they arrived? Is that what you think freedom is? Did he feel 'manipulated'? I'll bet he did; just like a good hand job; he let me have my way so he could have his.

He was just the way I told him I wanted him; very welcoming. But he was even a bit more inclined than I had anticipated. So inclined, in fact, that he shot it all over his chest and stomach as soon as I led my sister and my two girlfriends into the room. He never touched it, just bucked and shuddered and gave it up. It was delightful, even if not the most auspicious debut. We easily got a second, more 'proper' offering out of him a bit later and, with time, he did become an excellent prospect and temple servant. I still enjoy him on occasion at the Euios with his wife Giesel... anyway.

"He wants it like this." Laura says, her eyes never leaving Gi.

She seems to be reinforcing this to herself, or maybe turning over the implications.

"He wants it." she says again, but this time up a level.

"Ah, yes m'lady, please!" Gi moans and thrusts his hips, fucking the empty air for her.

The way she smiles at this makes me think maybe it's finally getting through to her.

I lean in, lay a hand on her arm before AhnIe can turn even this into some prettified observation about 'a young man so inclined'.

"You see?" I tell her, "You can make him fuck too."

She laughs. Just what she needs.

But before I can push her any further, the chamber door opens and Chenin returns leading the new prospect and his guide.

Laura's attention leaves Gi. Her tongue sweeps briefly over her lower lip. She shifts in her chair as she watches the three of them cross the room towards us.

Something in her demeanor suddenly changes. All at once she seems tense again and...

But here's the new one. I can't be babysitting the whole time here. She'll be fine.

Cedera; first trials, reverie interrupted

Dora is chatting quietly with the ambassadress. I'm not paying close attention to what she's saying. I'm just luxuriating in the glow of the moment; listening to their soft, teasing voices, watching this rapt and erect young man who moans occasionally as he pleads sweetly for the mercy of Ishea, feeling the spring breeze through the window, enjoying the sense of ease and anticipation of another year to celebrate the goddess and her gifts; things as they should be.

Watching Gi reminds me of the first time I saw young men in this state of possessed anticipation. I was a young, foreign bride attending my first trials and didn't really understand what I was seeing. But even without understanding, the experience was indelible.

There were nine prospects that year. We wives sat on our couches in the orgia sipping wine as the young males were led out onto the raised dais and introduced one at a time. Soon they formed a line along the edge of the stage, naked and erect for presentation as they always are at the start of the trials. A few of them stroking now and again to keep stiff, but most, like Gi here, just standing at the ready, moaning softly and twitching in anticipation, ready for viewing. Many wives stayed comfortably on their couches to view them, but many others took the opportunity for closer inspection before the first offerings.

I had only been in Nymnia a short time by then, and while eager and restless to indulge in everything on offer, I was unsure exactly how to behave in this my first encounter with Nymnian ritual. But I was too agitated to simply lounge about sipping wine and so got up when some of the others did and headed towards the stage. I watched as other wives gathered in small groups or went singly to pass along the foot of the stage to view the young men who stood over them at the edge of it.

I followed a small group of wives who went up to make the circuit along the stage. Still unsure what to expect, even of myself, I kept apart, trailing behind and listening to them talk and tease as they passed along the foot of the stage down the line of prospects. I let them move on each time before I myself moved from one to the next, their easy banter setting an example of expected demeanor that helped me to relax into this new (to me) dynamic. Their leisurely pace compelled me to take my time, allowed me to slow down my racing thoughts and absorb the sexual and emotional geometry of this new way of being with and seeing men.

For a girl from away for whom sex had always been forced, furtive, secretive, shameful, nasty, brutish and short (at least until my husband), it took an effort of will to overcome an instinctive, almost bodily reticence to approach these young men with the undisguised intent of simply enjoying them as aesthetic beings; to quell the urge to react, look away or excuse myself somehow. But once my mind was quiet, it was a revelatory experience to stand silently, calmly and to simply and openly indulge my curiosity, pleasure and anticipation, looking up between their open legs along their young athletic bodies as they stood over me at the edge of the stage, fully erect, the balls of several already tight in anticipation.

With them arrayed this way, there was no room for pretense; yet that very limitation was a freedom. It was splendid and empowering to look up occasionally to meet their gaze, see the expression on their faces, watch and feel the energy seethe through their bodies and into their loins when I dropped my gaze once more to examine their cocks, as if with just my gaze I could conjure the semen from those eagerly offered balls. It was my first taste of that aspect of Ishea's power, and I loved it.              

You might argue it is just the time, the place, the setting, the embedded set of expectations and conditioning that allows this interaction, creates the visceral anticipation that keeps them stiff, allows that to become a pleasure in itself, for both of us. Yes, it is just circumstances; a carefully contrived set of physical and emotive levers and pulleys that produce a result; the spurt of his semen or the shudder in my chest as I come, the eager groping of my hand or his. But I too, am just a circumstance, a lever of perception and reaction that gets pulled or triggered to produce...

It's easy to fall back into the explanation box; life is convenient, manageable and we think, at first, somehow comforting in its limitation. But in truth, every line we draw around ourselves, creates a sphere of darkness and mystery and monsters lurking beyond; the great unknowable, uncontrollable otherness so dangerous to us. Seeing a young man like this always reminds me, but the insight can hit me at unexpected times in other situations as I watch the little ripple, Cedera, fret and trouble herself on the vast surface of life. What first became obvious with those lovely cocks of my first trials, is always just there, under the surface of everything; the universe explodes every time I sneeze.

It was that, more than their work later that afternoon with tongues and fingers, their controlled yet desperate fucking, the helpless response of their bodies as they stiffened again even after coming three, some of them four times, the sisterly bond among the wives as we worked them for our pleasure and amusement... all of that was lovely and new... but it was that first pass down the line at the edge of the stage...

My reverie is interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Chenin enters ahead of Lutressa, a guide from the border region of Ila, followed by... hnmm, that is quite a sturdy looking one.

These two are a contrast to Gi and Ariane. Where Ariane is somewhat light complexioned and willowy, Lutressa is dark and sturdy. Her prospect isn't one I recognize. He's black haired with the deep olive skin of the Permidian clans; a hulk with thick muscled thighs that can be seen to flex under the silk robe as he approaches, big calves and large feet. He's an interesting contrast to the taller and more gracile Gi.

I look for the outline of an erection under the front of his robe. It isn't there. Has Lutressa not been preparing him? The expectation is that he will arrive fully aroused and prepared to display; his mind and body already primed or, as Dora likes to put it, his balls already blue. Unlike the wives at the trials, we haven't time or interest in seeing them work themselves up to that state. The question for us is, once there, can they maintain that 'edge of ejaculation' intensity, like Gi here, through a bit of distraction and without a lot of fuss and pampering, and then perform more or less on cue with a minimum of additional stimulation. It's a limited test of a specific aptitude, but one that reliably shows potential for other duties. But if she hasn't got him ready...

I am immediately non-plussed. Gi has come prepared and can't be kept waiting forever while this one catches up.

I also sense a somewhat unpleasant shift in tone and attitude. Where Ariane has been affectionate and playful with Gi, leading him in by the hand, Lutressa brings to mind a farmer's wife leading an ox back to his stable. She walks with a sort of businesslike purpose, two paces ahead of her charge. Whereas Gi was alert and relational with eye contact as he entered, Lutressa's prospect seems distracted, looking about the room curiously but not making eye contact with any of us.

I see Lutressa's focus go to Gi's naked backside as she comes up behind him. Her lip curls in what looks like cynical amusement.              

I feel an instant pulse of protectiveness towards Gi; this lovely young man who has put himself so trustingly into the hands of the goddess. Even a trace of cynicism for Ishea's gifts annoys me.

Chenin escorts Lutressa and her man to stand next to Gi and Ariane.

"Lady Lutressa brings Armand who seeks to serve the goddess." Chenin announces them.

Armand has still not made eye contact; still looking around the room as if more interested in the furniture. He doesn't seem nervous, just uninterested or self-absorbed, like he's getting ready for an athletic contest. I recognize the attitude, the type; not mine, but it takes all sorts. Some wives enjoy the rougher edged prospects.

I try to suppress my annoyance at the lack of an erection which is really Lutressa's failing more than his. His lack of preparation could explain his apparent distraction as well. Pleasure and desire are the goddess' doorway into a man (or woman), and Lutressa has not opened the door for him yet. So don't take out your annoyance on him, Cedera. I should give him a chance. Even if he's unsuitable, he's only here because his guide brought him. I should remember proper gratitude for the fact that he's willing to offer himself for evaluation at all.

Nymnian women, I think, sometimes take all of this too much for granted. They may know intellectually, but they have no visceral sense of how fragile and extraordinary their way of life is. So, as long as he'll follow directions and can be reasonably attentive to more subtle signals, this one, too, should be made to feel welcome and appreciated.

But as if the shift in attitude ushered in with Lutressa were infectious, Chenin takes a slight detour before returning to her place. She steps around in front of Gi and pauses for a moment to look him over from a nearer vantage than she enjoyed earlier while standing behind the AhnIe.

"This should be good." she says softly.

She steps towards him, her hand swings forward from her side.

From behind her, I can't see exactly how she handles him, but Gi's expression changes, he draws in a quick breath. Chenin says something else I can't make out about 'the two of you', looks over and exchanges smiles with Ariane.

Gi's expression changes again, he looks almost alarmed and he lets out a long exhale of pleasure in response to whatever Chenin's hand is up to.

It's brief. She quickly pulls away and heads back to her position behind AhnIe.

Brief or not, I do not approve. Gi has been teased and toyed with long enough at this point to demonstrate both his susceptibility and his restraint. He has earned the reward every young man in his position ought to expect. Yes, he's lovely and tempting. But Chenin tends to take advantage of her position in ways I do not always find helpful. If she wanted to be useful instead of just self-indulgent, she might have tried a run at Armand in some fashion. I know there are no set rules here, but a certain level of formality makes for a better review, especially given what will be expected of them in certain situations later, like the formality of the ceremonies where they must keep themselves at the ready awaiting the wilding maid's arrival. Protocol is important and, sure enough, one lapse leads to another.

Lutressa has stepped forward to one side, her hands on her hips, that same, slightly sardonic expression on her face, to watch Chenin's friendly exchange with Gi. Thus distracted, Lutressa does not at first even acknowledge AhnIe or the rest of us but instead,

"This yours?" she asks Ariane abruptly as Chenin moves off. Her voice is loud, a bit jarring.

"I am Ariane, and this is Gi." Ariane answers, casts a quick glance towards the AhnIe.

Despite the lapse in etiquette by Lutressa, Gi reacts properly to a new woman who shows interest. He shifts his stance towards Lutressa to present himself. "My lady." he manages a bit hoarsely.

Lutressa does not acknowledge his greeting but scans him up and down then pauses, her head tilted to one side as she examines his erection more closely.

His response cements my already favorable opinion of him. Gi's level of excitement has been ratcheting up steadily and I would not have been surprised if he were to the point where further stimulation would begin to lead to diminishing responses; there is only so much sensitivity short of ejaculation that can be expected. But he surprises me. Lutressa's attention sets that lively cock of his flexing once again like a high-strung racehorse, preening for her attention.

Praise Ishea! He is exquisitely the godess'. I regret now complicating his review with this new prospect and his apparently inept guide.

"Yeah." Lutressa nods her approval after a moment, looks back at Ariane, "Must've gotten some good use out'a that." she snorts. "Mine's more a bruiser." she says informationally, brings together her hands like she's choking a python. "Fat cock." she declares.

This elicits a soft, confident snort from Armand, who turns his head in Ariane's direction as if expecting some recognition of Lutressa's claim.

Plain talk is fine. But this is simply brusque braggadocio with no sense of gratitude or affection.

Ariane tries to be polite, nods at Armand, raises an eyebrow in acknowledgment of the substantial girth demonstrated by Lutressa's pantomime. "That could be nice." Ariane says pleasantly.

Ariane's eyes flit towards AhnIe once more; wondering no doubt, as I am, whether a bit of order might be observed.

"Lutressa," AhnIe interjects, waits for her to turn back towards us, "so nice of you to come."

"Why sure." Lutressa says agreeably. "Wouldn't miss it. You're gonna love this one." She waves towards Armand. "Best I've had." flicks her head towards Gi, then motions again toward Armand, "You want this one out too?" she asks.

'Out'? He should be up and ready, but you've...

"Thank you, but not just yet." AhnIe replies patiently. Then, "Armand," she addresses the ox.

Armand focuses on her and nods his head "AhnIe." he says and his head nods a few more times like he's affirming this.

"Thank you for your willingness to serve the goddess." AhnIe says formally.

And yes Cedera, we should keep that in mind. Give him a chance.

"My pleasure, of course." Armand answers.

Of course? Has Lutressa not coached him in the proper formalities?

I note the slightly sardonic curl at the edge of his lips, an affectation he probably picked up from Lutressa; they say we begin to look like our pets and vice versa. Confidence is fine; arrogance we have no use for.

Oh yes, I'm sorry, but I do know his type. I can picture him in breast plate and bronze helmet slashing his way through some drill or patrolling the country side tracking stolen cattle. Ah well. Still, let me withhold judgement a bit. Many wives enjoy such men immensely. They are usually self-absorbed in a way that makes them perfect for the sort of completely casual use many couples like to make of the temple servants; they are all cock, balls, tongues, fingers and muscles; uncomplicated and happy that way.

That said, his brand of one-dimensional, macho exuberance doesn't do it for me. Very useful, I admit, occasionally entertaining as long as coupled with submission and compliance; I really shouldn't criticize. Remember, Cedera, there are plenty of wives who even find this big gorilla shtick seductive; being thrown down and fucked hard by a compliant brute like this one has its own charms, I guess. So, I can't let my personal inclinations prejudice my evaluation too much here; the goddess deserves her tribute, whatever use we make of him.

My main concern is whether he is, in fact, a compliant brute or just a brute. Can he get over himself sufficiently to pay attention to the needs of the wives who want to make use of him, even if they also want to be used by him?

I am not disappointed by the AhnIe's decision to skip the introductory pleasantries. Rightly sensing that Armand will have little interest in the personal dynamics of the situation, she introduces us all in sequence, names only without pausing to let us say anything in greeting.

Armand does manage the courtesy of looking at each of us in turn and nodding in that same cocky manner, like a prize fighter being introduced to the crowd. He seems to have no particular reaction to our ambassadress in her fine cloak.

"You know why you're here?" AhnIe asks.

"Yeah." he answers.

The AhnIe raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, yes, AhnIe." he corrects himself, but it is not graceful.

"And," the AhnIe continues after a moment but pauses as if considering whether pursuit of further dialogue is worth the effort, "your understanding is?" she asks.

He looks stumped. "Well, m'lady," he begins carefully, "this is about serving at the trials and how you want to be sure the other ladies will like what I got and then maybe, Lutressa says too, I could be one of those jack-off guys for the ceremonies. I got the stuff for that, you'll see. I was asking for a guide at sixteen but they kept telling me I was too young and..." he breaks off, uninterested perhaps, even in his own observations. He glances over at Gi, does his head bob thing again. "Yeah." he affirms. "So, you want me like that?" he motions towards Gi's erection. "You want both of us at once?"

Okay, I am actually irritated with both of them now and don't particularly want the AhnIe to just smooth it over for the sake of diplomacy. It seems disrespectful to the efforts and attitude of Ariane and Gi to just let it slide.

"About that, Lutressa," I interject before the AhnIe can respond, "it doesn't seem he's been prepared for presentation yet. Is there some...?" I let the question trail off to prevent my irritation becoming too evident.

"Oh." Lutressa scrunches up one side of her face, then, "Yeah, that's the thing with this one. Takes nothin. He's stiff in five strokes if you ask for it and he can come five strokes after that, if you want it that quick. Here, let's get him..."

"Not just yet." AhnIe interrupts.

"Okay. Sure." Lutressa's expression reflects a first glimmer of recognition that perhaps her presentation could be improved. "But really, he's so quick."

"So, we'll see, I assume." The AhnIe smiles thinly. Then, "Armand,"

"Yes AhnIe." he replies properly for once.

"As you can see, we've had some time to acquaint ourselves with Gi, so things are somewhat advanced." AhnIe pauses.

Armand glances briefly again in Gi's direction, then nods.

"So perhaps your ability to prepare quickly in this instance will be useful, since I think we are all ready for an offering in short order."

"Ah, yes, AhnIe!" Gi groans softly.

He is really too lovely to distract ourselves with this Armand; it's like mixing fine wine with crab apple juice. But let's make the best of it. That seems to be AhnIe's thinking as well. She cuts to the chase pretty quickly.

"We want the two of you together. See how you do. That won't be a problem, will it?" she asks.

Armand shrugs. "I'll do whatever." he says. "M'lady." he adds as an afterthought.

Yes. He'll do it. Not gonna back down. He's here to prove himself. He'd fuck a post just to show us he can. And he'd enjoy it because it's all about him showing off. That may go some ways if he's decent to look at, but it's hardly entertaining if he's just doing that hyper focused, male on a mission thing. Will he even make eye contact when he comes?

I glance at Ariane. Watching her handle Gi had given me hopes to see her with him; I'd love to see her fuck him or let him demonstrate his proficiency some other way. I'm sure she'd extract a most enthusiastic offering for us. I find her so lovely. But the intrusion of this other has dampened my hopes. She'd certainly be more than capable of managing them both, but it would be a bit like yoking a racehorse and an ox together; even a skilled charioteer like Ariane could find it hard to keep that brace of beasts in step.

But it occurs to me that other options... watching Lutressa with them, or at all... ugh! She doesn't deserve the use of a man like Gi. Not today anyway. He'd probably do fine with it, but I have no desire to throw pearls before swine; she'd quaff him like slop from a backyard still when he should be sipped and savored for the fine vintage he is. No, we can't have that. And I don't really want to watch them just jerk off together so...

"AhnIe," I interject before some other suggestion can be made, "might I suggest that," I shift my gaze to meet Ariane's, "if she's willing, once she sees what she has to work with, of course, that we have Lady Ariane conduct the offerings for us?"

Laura: Who's afraid of... Laura?

Every time I think I've become acclimated to this, understand the dynamics of it, something throws me.

It sounded simple enough; two of them together; maybe stand them back-to-back, like a pair of priapic bookends; whatever the details it's just more of the same. Right? And I thought I had a grip on 'what' we were getting more of the same of; just another one of these with a stiff penis and the need to show it off, gasping 'Yes m'lady! Yes m'lady!'

I'm settling into this; feeling aroused and curious and not fretting about either any longer. I ask Dora what the trials are for, hoping, like the queen who sent me, for a titillating answer. I sure know what I'd like to do with this Gi fellow. I want Dora to say something really graphic this time so I can watch what it does to him again. But she disappoints me.

"To break them in and weed out any who lack the temperament, skills or stamina needed for service at the temple."

Skills and stamina? What happened to all the dirty girl-talk?

I'm asking questions just as they come to me, fascinated by the mix of pornographic and practical, lewdness and formality like, "What is it with this 'm'lady' form of address."

"What do you mean, what is it?" Dora answers and seems stumped.

But, come on; it's not like we're asking him to serve tea here. "I mean you're talking about having him..." say it, Laura. I look up and meet his gaze, "ejaculate for you." Fuck, I just said it right to his face, but he just looks back at me and nods, as if...

"Come." Dora wants me to say it.

"Yes, alright. Come." and it's like I hit him with this little dart.

His eyes narrow and "Ah, yes!" he kind of sighs and his legs open a little wider because he wants me to look at what's between them. So, I do and it's like another dart sticks and "and you're going on about his penis and, well," fascinating, how this affects him, to have me talk about it while I'm looking at it. But stay on track Laura, because I do want to ask this, "no one talks around a lady and, for sure, no lady says such things that way, at least not in public, where I come from. And I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone here, well, I'm certainly not a 'Lady' by any stretch. So...?"

And I get this long, calm, psychologically rational explanation about deference not being servitude and etc.

Okay, so slave isn't the right word. Still, there's not anything like this in Gaeldon to compare. In terms of my report though, guess the bottom line would be;

"So, you're saying he likes it that way, being told what to do."

Oh, gods that's a nice penis! He liked hearing that, made it flex and flush for me. He just stands there listening and letting me look at him, wants me to see that, how excited this makes him. This is so...

"Well of course he does!" Dora growls and turns toward the AhnIe.

What. Did I say something...?

And there is something said about how not all men are suitable, but I find myself distractingly absorbed in this particular young man and the way he seems focused on and excited by my attention till, at a certain point just...

"He wants it like this." I tell him just to see it in his eyes that he felt that and... "He wants it." there! Ahmn, direct hit!

"Ah, yes m'lady, please!" he's moaning and thrusting his hips at me and it's just so fun to tweak him.

Dora leans in and grips my arm.

"You see," she says, "you can make him fuck too."

And yeah, guess I can. I shouldn't be laughing at that, but I am so alright with this.

Then the door opens.

Chenin enters first, followed by a short, robust looking woman and then...

As soon as I see him, I sense how wrong this all is. I shouldn't be here and this cannot possibly end well.

He's huge; dark with the olive skin of the deep south and taut with restless energy, like a thunder cloud. He's coming across the room towards us and all of the familiarity and ease I had imagined evaporates and I can't keep my thoughts in order.

It's like being in one of those dreams where you suddenly realize you're naked in the midst of some everyday occasion. How you ever convinced yourself it was alright to come that way or managed to ignore the fact you hadn't gotten dressed is never explained. But once you're there, you can't just run off or cover yourself. No. You just have to keep on with whatever it is you're doing like it was all perfectly planned and natural with everyone staring at you and you trying to offer some lame explanation.

These two walk in and, instantly, that's how this feels. Everything is suddenly awkward; not least my own state of arousal which I feel must be branded on my forehead like the word 'whore' in red letters. It's like having somebody walk in and catch you masturbating.

What was I thinking, sitting here like this with Gi... that way? How must this look? What will people say?

But as he draws closer mere shame is supplanted by a sudden sense of physical menace. He radiates thuggish, mindless power; huge hands; he could snap our slut necks like chickens, rape us all or... or.

It's a visceral response to his presence; an instinctive urge to self-preservation. My mind creates more like him in the hallway outside. There's always more of them; they run in packs and... and...

Calm down, Laura. You know that's absurd. But my body shifts where I sit and my eyes can't stay focused but instead scan the room, mentally calculating the distance to each doorway. Is he closer to the exit than I am? Leave the damned cloak, it will slow you.

How did I ever allow myself to be lulled this way? To think these women could somehow suspend the natural order and make it safe for a woman like me to just...

He saunters in, like maybe he was on a tour of the place and took a wrong turn; walked in on this unexpectedly. And here I am, leering at this other guy who's... who's.

Well, whatever Gi is, whatever I was thinking he is, this new one isn't.

The new woman eyes Gi from behind as she comes up and just smirks.

I'm cringing inwardly in anticipation of her looking my way with that same knowing smirk. No use telling her it's not what she thinks; I'm just observing. I'm... making excuses in my head. But why? For what?

The new guy, on the other hand, doesn't even seem to notice what he's walked in on. But what must he think, seeing a room full of women sitting here with some other guy like this? Do these women really expect this one is just going to nod and accept his place as next on the penis parade? That's not what a man like this does, not how he thinks.

But it's as if he isn't even curious enough to look over at Gi. Fuck deference; real men don't need to be deferential to get what they want.

Chenin introduces them. I get the names; Lutressa, Armand; and I'm looking at the front of his robe, determined not to be surprised by that again! But no, that's just... I could tell if he had an erection, those robes are thin. He doesn't.

But the size of him! Standing so close. Thank the gods he doesn't seem aroused; what he'd do to us if he...

But no one else seems to be reacting to this danger. I know in my head they think they control this or can manage it, that it won't get out of hand. But there's nothing to stop him; no guards or bouncers in attendance. It's just him; square jaw, stubble on his face, all male; nothing to stop him; surely not these silly stories about the goddess.

We are a stupid herd of gazelles all gathering round to admire the handsome young lion. And surely, he is that; handsome; dark and brutishly so. He swaggers; just standing still, he swaggers. I'm afraid of him and...

Fuck him for making me afraid when I was just starting to think...

But he shrugs those big shoulders and shakes out one big hand at his side like a spear thrower warming up and, gods! Look away Laura, don't provoke him! Don't do anything to invite...

But as if determined to set him off, to taunt him with suggestions of what we have on our minds, give him license to treat us like the prey men always fantasize we must be, Chenin is suddenly over in front of Gi.

No explanation. She just walks over there and grabs him. I can just see past her hip. She's got his balls in her hand and she's saying something, then her hand moves up and she's toying with the head of his penis in her fingers, making his body stiffen and jump and...

I want to look away, because just watching this makes me no better than women who would do this, enjoy this; stupid gazelles letting the lion see we are everything he always said we were; easy prey because, deep down, we want this; but 'this' will be whatever he decides 'this' is, in spite of all our denials. Whatever we may say, whatever limits you try to place on it; once you show interest, you're a slut. And a slut is a slut is a slut. You're fair game for anything he wants to do to you, say about you. He and all his friends know just what you want and how you want it. So shut up and take it and they might let you live.

I want to look away. I should not be seen watching this! Caught fingering myself in the secrecy of my own mind by this... this... What was I thinking?

Then something snaps. Some pressure that's been building up suddenly releases and all the elements rearrange themselves.

I am sick to death of being afraid.

What the FUCK is it anybody's business to barge in while I'm masturbating here?!

When Chenin steps away from Gi it's pathetic how he's left standing there exposed, hips cranked under and forward, his body still begging for more, his penis flushed and twitching, his head tilted slightly to one side, looking at us like some dazed yet excited puppy.

"This yours?"

Lutressa's voice is like the whack of a dull chisel on fine china. Standing there looking at Gi, hands on her hips; posture, voice, expression; it all screams 'bitch!' Yes, fearless bitch! Gods be praised!

Ariane seems startled by this two-word deflation of her pretty animal stories. She turns towards Lutressa, "I am Ariane, and this is Gi." she says motioning towards the penis Lutressa has gone back to eyeing. She glances nervously towards the AhnIe as if conscious that etiquette has been breached with strangers at the table.

But Gi apparently has no sense of his own absurdity in the presence of this new woman and the beast she has led in. He steps out and turns to face Lutressa then adopts what I now recognize as the 'present your balls' position.

"M'lady." he gasps and it's almost comical how his penis jerks around like he's desperate for her to notice it. As if she could miss it!

No. Not 'almost'. It is comical. And the sense of the comical merges with my anger at being made to feel ashamed and afraid and I am suddenly consumed by this disturbingly fierce joy I know I should not allow myself to feel.

Lutressa, fearless bitch, just stands there with her hands on her hips looking down at that desperate, dancing penis. She takes her time, Armand behind her looking over her shoulder like a tourist.

"Yeah." she says after a bit. Then she looks up at Ariane. "Must've gotten some good use out'a that." she snorts.

It's perfect. I don't know why, but it is.

"Mine's more a bruiser." she continues. Her hands leave her hips and she brings them together in front of her like she's curling them around a pole, tips them forward to show the girth of it. "Fat cock."

Uhn!

Wait! Did I make that noise?

No. It was Armand. He's looking over Lutressa's shoulder at Ariane now like he's expecting some acknowledgment.

He suddenly seems like a big ox with a ring in its nose instead of a lion. The transition in my perception of him is disconcertingly abrupt yet alarmingly satisfying.

"That could be nice." Ariane smiles at him.

Fat cock. That could be nice. We gazelles can run rings around this ox. But a good woman, a decent woman, doesn't think this way; it isn't 'nice', it's not respectful, it's not...

It's not about him, is it Laura? That's not what had you scared. It's those damned gazelles you're running with. What are they thinking? No. To hell with them; what are you thinking?

"Lutressa, so nice of you to come." AhnIe says.

Lutressa turns away to face AhnIe. I'm still watching Gi. He relaxes his stance as she turns away but it makes me smile how he continues to watch her, as if, just in case she looks back his way, he wants to be ready for his chance again. But nobody's paying much attention to him now.

"Why sure. Wouldn't miss it." Lutressa says. "You're gonna love this one." the flit of a hand towards Armand. "Best I've had. You want this one out too?" she asks.

Yes, we do. Let's see the 'fat cock'. Unh, yes, Laura, go on, that's what you're thinking. Stop trying to be so nice about it all and just enjoy it.

I shouldn't. Of course I shouldn't. He's a person. Gi is a... well, that's what he is, right there. Who cares why? Why is it my job to be indignant? He's not.

"Thank you, but not just yet." AhnIe says.

My indignation was never to protect him, anyway. It was to protect me from...

"Armand," she says.

"AhnIe." he says.

Laura.

All these years, so prim and proper and studious and uninterested and... angry. Go ahead; you can say it. Angry at all these damn oxen preening like lions, staring at me and every other woman as if they owned us, thinking they know what I want; always putting me in the position of choosing between fight and flight. That's why this gazelle is so quick on her feet; always running away.

So why am I surprised that when Laura finally stops running, the instinct to fight doesn't just evaporate? What has any man ever done that Laura needs to be so nice, proper, and considerate?

Fuck that.

Gi turns his head and sees I'm still looking at him. My eyes lift to his and I give him a little smile. As if relieved to see someone is still interested, he turns back towards me.

I let my eyes roam up and down him; chest, shoulders, abs, muscular legs and arms and that pretty almost feminine face looking so expectant.

Well, if it was good enough for Lutressa... come on.

I know I should just say it, tell him, but I can't get it out, not just now and, after all, he just did it for the fearless bitch without her even asking. I drop my eyes and jut my chin at him. He should know the drill.

He does.

His stance opens, his hips come forward and under, hands up to rest on his ass. He drops his head slightly to one side looking down at it as if checking to make sure he's got it right.

Ah, yes, that's fine. Present your balls for the ambassadress. So different, now, to hear that little moan and see that happy penis sway and bob with his excitement; now, when I don't have to be so damned polite and take it all so seriously.

But call it a cock, Laura, like they do. Bravo, pretty boy! Entertain the ambassadress. Make your cock dance; unhm, yes, I like that much better. Laura says 'cock' now. Laura loves the head of his cock. Wants to play with it, tease it and make him moan. Why not say it? It's true. She's come a long way for this.

"Thank you for your willingness to serve the goddess." AhnIe says, still trying to keep up appearances.

"My pleasure, of course." Armand answers.

"You know why you're here?" AhnIe asks.

"Yeah." he answers. "I mean, yes, AhnIe."

He's not so good at pretending. Not like Gi with those desperate, breathy 'm'lady's'.

It was never Armand I was afraid of; it was Laura. She is not what she pretends to be; even to herself. She needs to watch herself or she'll do dangerous, stupid things; stop running and let her anger show; turn up naked without thinking someday, maybe say 'cock' right out loud and then everyone will know. As long as she didn't know herself, there was a better chance no one else would ever find out. Too late now for that. That cat, ha!, that lion, is out of the bag.

It's not about revenge. I don't want to set the world right or even the score. I don't want justice. I want to be the lion for once. Feast on a few of these fat oxen. Maybe chase them around the pen to warm their blood up for me first. They'll run and bellow for me. It whets my appetite and I'm sick and tired of pretending I'm not hungry!

I lift my eyes to meet Gi's gaze. We've been chasing him about a bit for sport. He's nice and warm and has that glazed expression of pleasure induced shock.

Joy, fear, pain, pleasure; we suffer them all. The power to inflict is at base, just power. I hold his gaze because I want him to know, but even more I want Laura to know; I want to indulge the power to inflict; dig my claw in and watch Gi suffer for my pleasure and amusement. Even if it's also for his; I am the lion, he is the prey.

"And," the AhnIe prompts Armand who is apparently not providing the level of entertainment he ought to, "your understanding is?" she asks.

"Well, m'lady, this is about serving at the trials and how you want to be sure the other ladies will like what I got and then maybe, Lutressa says too, I could be one of those jack-off guys for the ceremonies." Armand says.

Gi's eyes narrow then widen at this. He knows I'm thinking it; would Gi make a nice 'jack off guy'? He wants my gaze back down between his legs so, like Armand, he can try to persuade me that...

"I got the stuff for that, you'll see. I was asking for a guide at sixteen but they kept telling me I was too young and... Yeah."

But I don't look down. I like the claw poised where it is. The way he almost pleads for it.

"So, you want me like that?" Armand asks. "You want both of us at once?"

Okay; now. I look down.

Gi's hips buck and he moans as the claw sinks in and yes, of course, we want them both at once. More sport for the huntress.

"About that, Lutressa," Cedera doesn't sound happy, "it doesn't seem he's been prepared for presentation yet. Is there some...?"

Prepared for presentation; that makes me smile.

"Oh. Yeah, that's the thing with this one." Lutressa says. "Takes nothin. He's stiff in five strokes if you ask for it and he can come five strokes after that, if you want it that quick. Here, let's get him..."

By all means, let's get him. But,

"Not just yet." AhnIe says.

"Okay. Sure." Lutressa agrees. "But really, he's so quick."

"So, we'll see, I assume." AhnIe is apparently in no hurry.

Too bad. This one we have 'out' already, suffers so temptingly and I'm just getting the knack of really enjoying it. But my head has been so all over the place with this. I worry the old, timid, polite, nice Laura may somehow stumble back in and fuck this up before I even get to say 'cock' out loud like the fearless bitch I want to be for once.

"Armand,"

"Yes AhnIe."

"As you can see, we've had some time to acquaint ourselves with Gi, so things are somewhat advanced."

Advanced. Is that what you call this?

"So perhaps your ability to prepare quickly in this instance will be useful, since I think we are all ready for an offering in short order."

This sends a wonderful shudder through Gi; chest, thighs, hips, "Ah, yes, AhnIe!" he groans and his balls jump up then drop like stones in a shaken sack as it wracks him.

Ha! I want to see that again. Shaved balls are good for this.

Laura! The things you think!

"We'd like the two of you together. See how you do." the AhnIe says.

Yeah, that's right. I turn my attention to Armand. I have my bearings now. The bulk of him, the swagger makes me want to slap him, get him on his knees, make him plead for it the way Gi is.

"That won't be a problem, will it?" AhnIe asks.

Yeah, you fucking ox, is that going to be a problem?

The huge shoulders shrug. "I'll do whatever." he says cockily, as if making him do this were... "M'lady." he adds.

Yes; 'making him'. That's a sweet way to think about it. Laura doesn't want this pretty. I want to make him, and we're going to. How ever they managed this; trained them up, conditioned them, made them so they want it too badly to say no, turned pleasure into a weapon to extract submission; I don't care. I just want to make them, both of them. This one too. Come on. Let's see the fat cock.

"AhnIe," Cedera interjects. "might I suggest that, if she's willing, once she sees what she has to work with, of course, that we have Lady Ariane conduct the offerings for us?"

I'm laughing. This is just too funny. 'Conduct the offerings'? All this formality; it's like making them wear silly hats while they do it. Whoever thought this stuff up had such theatrical flair. Like it isn't enough to make the lion jump through the hoop; light it on fire and make a show of it! Does Gi want to 'make an offering?' Oh, to be Nymnian! They do have such fun with this!

"What?" Dora leans in from beside me. "What is it?" she asks.

"Nothing, nothing." I say softly. I try to stop laughing because I don't want to 'discuss' this anymore. I just want to see Ariane 'conduct the offerings'. I try to suppress it but it makes me laugh again, because everything is going through my head at once. 'Conduct the offerings'; the image of Ariane's hand up between Gi's legs from behind; do the 'jack off guys' get that at the ceremonies to help things along, or do they make them just stand there, all serious and work it like that young man in the fresco, until it spurts? Spurts, ahn, yeah. Sounds so abrupt and uncontrolled that way. Laura likes to talk dirty. Hope it looks the way it sounds. Let's see Ariane make them spurt! No. Make their cocks spurt! That's what Laura wants.

But Dora still leans in, peering intently at me.

"I get it now." I say so she knows I don't need any more 'explanations.' Fuck the explanations; let's see the show.

But, "What do you get?" Dora persists softly. "You notice Gi, right?"

"That would be fine." Ariane says looking back and forth from one male to the other. "I was hoping you'd ask." she smiles. "It's been a temptation keeping Gi ready for you, and..." she smiles, shrugs.

"I can imagine." AhnIe says.

"You do notice?" Dora asks again as if I hadn't heard her. "He's waiting for you to..."

I wave a hand emphatically in her direction to cut this off, but don't answer. Of course I notice him; there for me is right. But I don't want to talk about it. No one had to discuss it when the AhnIe asked, it was just 'present your balls.' So now it's my turn to make him, but I don't want to discuss it, because as soon as I do the old Laura; the clever, verbal, gaze averting, 'nice', scared little woman; is likely to start making excuses or explaining things that don't need explaining or excusing. The new Laura hasn't found her voice yet, still working on the vocabulary of reverse euphemism, still... who cares? I don't need to explain.

"But, of course, if Lutressa would like to..." Ariane looks companionably in Lutressa's direction.

"Nah." the fearless bitch says. "Been a long day for me. I'll get him set, but I'd just as soon have you take it."

'Take it.' Ariane gets to 'take it'; Gi and the fat cock too? Does that mean...

"Excellent." Cedera says.

Of course that's what it means. These women aren't stupid; won't waste a pe... no, no, say it right, won't waste a cock like that on... on...

Settle down Laura, or you'll distract yourself and miss it. Relax and enjoy, relax and enjoy.

"Yes, excellent." the AhnIe agrees, but then, "Unless Dora...?"

"Ahhnn... hhh." Gi, still straining to hold position for me, groans softly like he's trying not to interrupt.

"No, that's perfect." Dora says. Then, turns to me and "Laura?" she asks.

And I know she only did that because I wouldn't talk to her just now. She still wants to suck me in and get me to explain what it's like for the 'new girl'. So what? I've got no obligation to explain anything. I'm done being part of the entertainment here. Just answer the question, Laura.

"Sure. That'll be good." I say.

No more excuses about how it's not up to me, how 'it's not for me to say'.

I look back between Gi's legs. His hips are thrust under so far for me that his cock points almost straight up. I imagine him on his back with his fist around it like that very healthy young man in the fresco. That could be good. I want to tell him to get on his back and do that. He looks like he expects something like that, but I've had him there a while now and... and. Too much clutter in my head still about this. I give up and just nod to release him from his 'present your balls' obligations.

He exhales heavily and I watch the tension leave his thighs and chest as he straightens up and brings his feet back closer together. I feel a wave of gratification as I realize how hard he'd been straining to hold that silly position, just because... ah, just because I made him. Laura doesn't need to explain herself; she can just enjoy that if she wants.

Ariane hears my answer to Dora's question and watches the exchange with Gi. She smiles at me again with that same inviting, conspiratorial expression the glacial ambassadress had rebuffed earlier. This time I return her warmth and comradery without qualm, give her a big smile. We both laugh, finally connecting the way women should on this sort of thing.

She places a hand lightly on Gi's ass and...

"You like this one." she says "I can tell."

I nod. "I do."

"Thank you, m'lady!" Gi exhales, still regaining himself.

And I want to say, I want to say something with 'cock' in it, how I like his, just to break that little wall that still... But,

"Anything special you'd like with him?" Ariane asks me before I can clear the wall.

"Special?" I echo, drawing a momentary blank; but I can feel that old defensive verbal habit cutting off access to the part of my brain that just a minute ago teemed with a thousand lovely images of what Ariane would do. "I don't know, I..." You what, Laura? Think about what she's asking.

"Let's see them together first." The AhnIe interjects when she sees I'm stuck for specifics. "That may suggest some ideas?" Leaning slightly forward in her chair, she smiles and nods at me.

"Yes." I answer, feeling an odd mix of relief and frustration. "Let's see them together." I do the echo thing again, but this time consciously in an effort to keep some momentum going so I can... "But this one," I motion Gi's direction, fuck it, say it! Say something you silly woman! "I really like his cock."

Gods! That was inane, stupid, mortifying! Just because you think it, you don't blurt it out and...

"Splendid!" Cedera beams at me. "We're all in agreement then."

This is punctuated by another comical "Thank you, m'lady." from Gi and...

"Atta girl." Dora chucks my arm softly. "You do get it." and...

"Hoummm," Ariane exclaims playfully, "the ambassadress likes your cock." she says and pats his ass lightly. "Diplomatic recognition!" she teases.

And something about that... these women are not the backwater country bumpkins I took them for. They're quick, smart, funny, articulate and in charge.

This is the only way you could do this really; get these guys young, get into their heads, make them want it, reward them, teach them to control themselves but make it worth their while, but most of all, work together... like men do everywhere else. We must kill those cruel, bombastic sky and father gods or drive them out, not with fire and a sword, but with pleasure.

That's why this is 'serious'. You have to work at this or it just doesn't work. There has to be a story, a goddess who grants or, even better, 'demands' this. Some imperative for the husbands who could not otherwise accept this just because everyone would be happier, including them, if they did.

"Diplomatic recognition!" Ariane teases the naked young man as she pats his ass and...

I knew this already, but for some reason seeing the way she does that, the proprietary ease and confidence of the way she touches him, brings it home to me with sudden force. This is not some abstract concept. She's married. And that young man with his prize erection is not her husband. She's had the 'use a' that', as the fearless bitch Lutressa would put it, and she's making no apologies.

Praise Ishea!

Chenin; The Etiquette of Presentation

Well, that was awkward.

When the marathon is finally over, she takes a trial run at speaking the dialect, like a school kid trying out today's new vocabulary word in a sentence. She makes it sound like a question; "I really like his cock (?)" with that little squeak on 'cock'.

But they cover for her.

"Splendid!" Cedera says.

"Atta girl!" Dora encourages her and we all generally act like nobody noticed how she got Gi into present position and then just left him there.

I could understand her not knowing the finer etiquette of it, her being from away and all. But she saw how both the AhnIe and then Lutressa handled it; it's meant to be a deferential vignette, not an endurance event.

You can ask or sometimes they just do it; he presents, but then you accept. You need to accept to complete the act, to establish or maybe just acknowledge the power relation. I call it power, they like to dress it up prettier; an 'offer of service'; whatever. But either way, just leaving him there the way she did spoils the whole ambiance.

We were talking and we all act like we don't notice she's left him there in present position, thinking she's sure to catch on and say something or motion to him or even just nod to acknowledge her acceptance.

But she doesn't.

After about a minute of him standing there on offer, I want to say something. This is NOT how it's done! It loses all its charm if a woman doesn't respond correctly.

This is like when the waiter brings a bottle of wine to the table and presents it for your approval. It's not that you rush things. You lean in to read the label, note the vintage, maybe make a comment; but then you nod and let the waiter get on with things. It's all part of the experience of good service.

You go through that little wine presentation ritual because it's part of the enjoyment of being catered to; you get to feel that twinge of anticipating the pleasure of drinking it and it's meant to give you that nice sense of privilege you might not appreciate so well if you didn't slow down just a bit to enjoy it.

But it's a ritual. You're not doing this because you think the waiter is out to cheat you and would pour shoddy stuff in your glass if you didn't check the label.

Same with these guys. It's not about their balls; well, okay it is, but if it was just that, who would really care? Plenty more where those come from in the Nymnian wine cellar. Besides, while it's nice to see a well racked set on a guy, that's not the business end of the proposition any more than the label is on the wine; no matter what the label says it's gotta pass the taste test when it's uncorked. And that's for later. No. It's all about the presentation itself and that lovely, deferential display of catering to your taste.

That's why, when they present, it's always a little ostentatious; the guy is already naked and erect, so he's already 'out there' if that's all you cared about. But it's like the way the waiter leans in and presents the bottle, cradling it in an open palm, the long neck resting up along his forearm like he's holding an infant. None of that's 'necessary'; he could just hand you the bottle and let you read it. The point is to make a show of offering it for your approval.

I like how Gi does it, grabbing his ass like that. Some guys grip their cocks and pull up to lift the balls, or... depends how they were trained and what position they're in when asked; but as long as they make the intent obvious, open their legs, roll their hips under, it's all good. Then, like the waiter, he awaits your approval.

But even the approval bit is more ritual than actual appraisal. Especially with the quality the guides bring here for review. I guess some of the wives do have particular tastes in balls, like a certain size or hang or whatever and even get hot about playing with a good set, watching or feeling them slap when a guy fucks hard... whatever. But face it, with the quality of guys the guides bring in, you're always gonna sample them once they get this far. Yeah, you're gonna tell that waiter to pour a glass before you even consider sending the bottle back. But the fact that there's no real suspense here doesn't mean it isn't pleasurable or important. It's about them acknowledging that you could send that bottle back if you wanted to, that it's up to you whether the vintage is good enough. And, in fact, you could. That's the beauty of it.

But a woman needs to do her part or the whole thing loses its effect. I mean, you don't just leave the waiter leaning over the table cradling that bottle, straining his back while you just dither interminably. You read the label, you linger over it to enjoy the ambiance and the anticipation of sipping this at your leisure; you make him do his job. He wants it that way too. You take just long enough to send the message, to set the tone and remind both of you that you're actually making a decision here to accept what he's offering, even if it's an easy one. But that's it.

Personally, I don't much care about a guy's balls, aesthetically I mean. But when it comes to satisfying that urge for affirmation of the raw, male-female sexual power relation, nothing hits the spot quite as sweet as giving the command, or even better some subtle gesture or look, and seeing the legs open, the hips curl under and the expectant look on their faces as they await your verdict. Unlike their cocks that they present proudly with tight circled fingers pushed to the base for display, a guy's balls are all about his vulnerability. Guys sure know that, feel that when they present. Ask my husband Rand how it felt to be standing there presenting in a group of women; he was a prospect once, he'll tell you; 'got 'em by the balls' is not just a euphemism for power.

So let them, no, make them feel it. They enjoy it that way, too, or they wouldn't be here, would they?

But it's accepting the offer that seals the service contract. You smile or nod or motion and maybe say something, like Lutressa did; 'must've got some good use out'a that', and let him get on with it.

But this Laura keeps Gi there way past serving the purpose. We just keep talking and nobody says anything to her about it, cause surely, she's gonna catch on that a response is required. But she isn't even 'reading the label' so to speak. She's watching his face, laughing about something like it's... I don't know what.

So, he strains to open up more and hang those plums out there even further to get her attention, but she still doesn't catch on. His legs start to tremble and its past being funny anymore when she finally gives him a nod of approval.

But the whole deferential effect is just lost at that point. He unbends and straightens up like an old man climbing out of a low chair.

The whole thing spoiled my mood, and that limp little "cock (?)" just made it worse. That's a shame, because I'd been pretty tight just before.

Getting my first look at Armand out in the preparation room had gotten me cranked. That huge chest and those legs; it's like some workman just draped a green robe over a huge chunk of sculpted marble; all of him looks chiseled and hard, thick veins in his arms. My cunt is screaming 'fuck me, please!', as I lead him in and I'm hoping his eyes are watching my ass. I was so wanting his attention.

Guys like that just do it to me, even when I'm not already keyed by a morning of pretty boy sight-seeing. A girl does have limits to how much she can be teased, and one look at Armand and I had reached mine.

So, I wanted him to notice me and when I get that way, I just need to get my hands or mouth around something; it's just how I get; grabby and oral. The urge needed somewhere to go.

Gi got the benefit of that. But all that happy cunt buzz from getting to handle him has kind of evaporated at this point.

So, let's move on.

I may have lost a bit of heat, but Armand hasn't lost any of his appeal. He's as close to a visual dildo as I've seen in a long time. Get him undressed already!

Ariane's gonna take 'em; this should be good. Maybe she'll want some help.

Cedera; compulsion and calm

Our ambassadress floundered a bit there, but I'm glad no one said anything to make her feel uncomfortable. I could tell Dora was getting a bit antsy with it, but Gi did just fine.

What did we expect, inviting her to stay? I at least had a few months of marriage under my belt and a lot of helpful advice from other wives before I got my first taste of this at the trials. But even then, I was unsure how to act or react at first.

So, of course, she's hot and cold, getting pushed and pulled around by all sorts of reactions and instinctive mental, emotional and physical habits that have been ingrained in her since she was a toddler. I've been there. How is she supposed to pick up on etiquette in the middle of all that?

But nevertheless, she eventually pulls it together, accepts Gi's offer and says she's ready to go on as I've suggested.

"But this one," she motions at Gi, but then it's like she gets stuck. I can see her mind working as she's tries to calm her nerves or push past some internal barrier. Her frustration with her own reticence is there in her expression, but she pushes through and, "I really like his cock." she manages.

And as soon as it's out of her mouth, you can see the internal backlash kick in. She's mortified; not because it isn't true - it's pretty obvious she does - but because those internal guard dogs are barking at her, snarling that it was the wrong thing, sounded stupid or clumsy.

I know all about it and jump in as enthusiastically as I can.

"Splendid!" I encourage her. "We're all in agreement then." and the relief on her face is palpable as I smile at her.

Her good opinion of his cock sends a predictable shudder through Gi and "Thank you, m'lady." he gasps helpfully.

"Atta girl." Dora does her part, "You do get it."

But it's Ariane who seals it.

"Hoummm, the ambassadress likes your cock." she says and pats his ass lightly. "Diplomatic recognition!" she teases.

Laura's expression eases, shifts, the furrow in her brow vanishes and her features settle into a calmly determined expression.

I want to tell her not to worry; it will go back and forth, like a tide coming in, each wave a little higher, each retreat a little less; those old habits of mind still an occasional undertow. But stay with us and you will find the tide of the goddess never ebbs.

Easy for me to say that now. But that sure isn't where I started. I can recognize it now as my own version of incredulous anxiety; but with me it didn't manifest as reticence. Once I started in, wrapped my hand around that first young man's cock as he stood in front of my couch at the trials, I was in a feeding frenzy; a state of temporary nymphomania that was as much about anxiety as desire. I consumed these young men. I wanted them all and took every one I could get; singly or, even better, in groups. I'd arrange them like my favorite scenes from the frescoes, straddle one's face, one on either side their mouths on either breast, another kneeling and fucking me slowly from behind, his cock sliding in and out past the eyes and tongue of the one licking my clit, and, of course, as many as I could get to stand around me and jerk off as they watched or waited a turn. I served duty at the temple and did a whole company of the border guard that way once, insisted on finishing each one of them myself, all under the supervision of their commander and my husband to keep it orderly for me. But even that wasn't enough. My discovery of the joys of other women distracted me almost as much. I nearly impoverished the household insisting we come to the temple four times in the first year of my marriage. I even considered offering to serve regularly at the temple myself, rather than just take on the occasional duty to see our boys in the border patrol got some needed R&R. But there was no way I could have ever been passive or deferential enough to make a good servant; it would have been like asking a starving beggar woman to serve you dinner; you still might get fed, but the waitress is going to be way too distracted to provide the level of service you expect; snatching stuff off your plate or delivering your chicken leg with a bite already out of it. My poor husband, I'd want sex every night, which he loved at first but...

Even I knew it was too much; this new freedom was turning into its own kind of trap; I couldn't seem to concentrate on anything else. The other wives would just smile and shrug and tell me not to worry; 'you'll get over it' they'd say, then add 'or if not...' But I couldn't seem to shake it.

Then one day it just changed. Something clicked. I finally realized that Ishea's tide was never going back out. I didn't have to gorge myself at every feast out of fear that tomorrow I'd be shut away again, back in that gated, walled courtyard where my parents and brothers penned my sisters and I like... even now I can feel the tension in my jaw and chest when I picture my old familial prison. It hadn't even really been fear that had driven my sexual binge; it was more like a kind of giddy vengefulness, but it had finally just spent its force.

The young men are still lovely, but that frantic, indiscriminate neediness has been replaced by a calm, selective pleasure in the occasional use and enjoyment of them, or the female servants, with my husband when we visit. It's not that I got over it; instead, I got it.

As for the trials, I haven't even attended the last few. The new brides of the year always attend, but for the rest of us it's a lottery. I was drawn last year but gave away my spot to a friend who was really disappointed not to be chosen. I think I enjoyed it almost as much vicariously just listening to her talk about it later. I may not go every year I can as I once did, but I continue to enjoy, even revel in the thought of my friends and neighbors among the wives of Nymnia, taking their pleasure in the long afternoon with the selection we provide to serve and entertain them.

But this Armand, I'm afraid, is just not fitting into that vision for me. Not yet at least.

Lutressa strips the robe off of him so we can see them together before letting Ariane proceed.

"Wonderful! Just as advertised." Chenin exhales happily as soon as she gets a look at him.

Despite my annoyance at the lack of an erection ready for us, I can't help but notice that, even flaccid, he's thick. He stands for a moment so we can appraise him but he knows what's expected and he quickly gets his fist around it and starts working.

'Bruiser' is a good description too. He's all bulk and ripples, forearms big around as my calves. He may get fat somewhere other than his dick when he gets older, but right now, at twenty whatever, I'll admit he's quite a specimen; narrow waist, big, thick thighs, pectorals and shoulders. The muscles in his forearm crease and one big pectoral bulges in rhythm as he works. I glance up at his face and am pleasantly surprised to see him looking at us. His expression is still that confident half smirk, as if he simply assumes what he's got flopping about in that pumping fist is going to make us all stand up and cheer once he's stiff. He meets my gaze. Still confident, yes, but his eyes for the first time seem to acknowledge the goddess behind mine.

It takes a bit more than the five strokes Lutressa promised, but he begins to extend and stiffen very quickly.

As if he senses I may be less impressed with him than he'd like, he stays focused on me.

"Ah, yeah." he growls, tilts his head slightly to one side and motions downward with his eyes to invite my attention there. When my eyes drop, he pauses to display his semi erect cock, circled fingers pushed hard to the base. It's impressive, even at half-mast. He holds still until I lift my eyes again to his and nod for him to proceed.

"Ah, yeah." he says again and goes back to stroking it.

There. That's the sort of response I need to see. To Dora and others who have grown up around it, I often sense it is taken for granted that a certain number of men will always be available, year upon year, to provide the pliable and eager phallic props needed for the temple activities. But for me, each new demonstration of male lust conditioned to provide such carefully constrained sexual service, not only willingly, but even ecstatically, triggers a wave of gratitude for the dispensation of the goddess. That simple display of Armand's eagerness to please me not only soothes my irritation, but triggers that familiar pulse of pleasure as I watch his hips thrust and that hand work his rapidly stiffening cock.

"That's it." Lutressa slaps his ass playfully. "Let's see it!" she slaps again, a bit harder this time, making Armand's hips jerk reflexively.

"Ah yeah." Armand gasps, obviously excited by Lutressa's brusque approach.

Interesting.

I glance over at Laura to see how she's holding up.

I hear another smack of Lutressa's hand and watch our ambassadress jump slightly like she's startled. Her eyes narrow, squinting to focus. She draws in a little breath, and I see her lips move silently.

"Yeah, that's nice." at least I think that's what she whispers to herself and then bites one side of her lower lip. Her eyes shift back and forth between our two prospects.

Gi's got his hand around his own cock now, working it sympathetically as he watches Armand. I'm not even sure he's thinking about it. Men are so visually sympathetic to the sight of other men's pleasure; that's one of the keys to managing them in groups. The offerings are staged the way they are not just because the wives enjoy it, but because of the effect it has on other men watching. Especially in a setting with a number of women present and responding appreciatively, letting men see other men come heightens their level of useful arousal and excitement and triggers imitative reflexes that can be easily directed to our mutual satisfaction. Visual stimulus triggers a strong sympathetic response in men, whether young like these two or, in other settings, our husbands.

Fully erect now, Armand displays the results, the muscles in his chest and stomach flexed taut as he drives the circled fingers hard to the base to accentuate the jut of his cock. He looks down at it with that affectionate admiration well hung young men display for their own endowments. That self-enjoyment too, is just one more element the wives have learned to encourage and use to fuel the urge to exhibitionism required by their role.

"Ah, that's just so nice." Chenin purrs. "So very nice."

And, indeed, there is little one could complain about here.

He is nearly as long as Gi, but much thicker. The girth of the shaft is impressive and it pulses with a pleasing rigidity. Some cocks this size tend to be floppy even when fully erect, but there is no droop or wobble as he turns to give us alternate profiles. The rim of the head flares nicely beyond the girth of the shaft to present the classic, heart shaped mushroom cap sported by the big-headed phalluses so popular with the wives.

"Yes." Dora agrees with Chenin. "Splendid cock."

"Thank you, m'lady." he moans softly, and it twitches excitedly above his tight circled fingers.

Perhaps I should have suspected as much; arousal has improved his comportment considerably; the prod of pleasure directing him down the familiar paths he has been conditioned to follow to gain his orgasmic reward. Had Lutressa done her part to begin with, my initial impression of him may have been more favorable. As it is, I am beginning to think I may have underestimated his potential.

Seeing Armand's display triggers Gi to follow suit in instinctive competition for our attention. Seeing another man receive pleasure or attention, triggers an instinctive, almost irrepressible impulse to compete for it themselves.

Men understand that this competitive drive is just one more element of their make-up the goddess has taught us to harness and manipulate to intensify their pleasure and ours. Well, at least Nymnian men do, and are grateful, as we are, for the experience. The heightened pleasure and excitement they derive from our deliberate if often playful exploitation their susceptibility to visual and verbal stimulus, self-regard, and competitive impulses is not a 'trick' we wives perpetrate at their expense, but a gift of the goddess to them and, through them, to us.

At AhnIe's request, Armand presents his balls. The others are discussing how best to stage the offering for these two, but I am hardly listening. I am watching Armand's expression and the tension of restrained pleasure in his thighs, chest and stomach as Ariane handles him for the group and pronounces his balls 'hefty'. Indeed they are. But it is that suppressed tremor of pleasure that twitches those muscular thighs a bit wider, catches his breath at the touch of her hand and sound of her voice that charms me far more than his hefty balls. As so often I find myself losing track of the specific conversation, absorbed instead in pleasureful reflection upon the orchestration of pleasures and needs that have brought this young man here so eager to offer himself this way for service.

My friends say that I miss the simple pleasures of Ishea's gifts by always focusing on the divine mechanics that harness the disparate drives and impulses to serve the will of the goddess. I try to share what goes through my head at such times, but they shake their heads and smile, unwilling to be 'distracted' from the immediacy of sensation. 'Yeah, we know how it works.' they say and should I persist, I usually provoke some version of; 'Cedera, you think too much. Just shut up and fuck him.'

I do. But even as I take some young man in hand and position him between my legs, hear him moan and feel the surge of the shaft in my grip as I brush the head up and down the slit of my cunt to wet him, even as I feel that first, delicious burst of entry as the head pops in past the opening and that lovely pressure and fullness as I lower myself down onto him, even then, no especially then, I am overcome with the joyous sense of wonder at how it all works.

My friends are wrong. Reflecting on these things is not a distraction from anything, but an elevation of pleasure that turns mere physical stimulus into ecstatic awareness. In these my later years, I often come with an intensity of pleasure the young, hurried, nymphomaniac Cedera, for all her desperation, could never have dreamed possible. Do I think too much? Never.

The 'debate' over how to use them is as much about the creation and reaffirmation of the femine bonds that lessen jealousy, promote inclusion and make these young men and the pleasure they provide the shared property of all the women present. It is effortless, almost instinctual, the way the AhnIe and others work to include and encourage Laura's participation. The discussion of male attributes and the women's preferences for various ways Ariane might take these two, reinforces this inclusive dynamic; it is in itself a form of playful participation in the enjoyment of them, making the men moan and twitch as they listen and imagine themselves as the objects that satisfy these feminine urges and preferences.

I have missed something in the conversation. The AhnIe is discussing, for some reason, how unusual it is, at least in Nymnia, for a woman of Laura's age not to be married. I'm not sure why this has come up, but I at least, understand perfectly why a woman outside of Nymnia might prefer never to marry if she could help it. Outside of Nymnia, marriage for women is little better than chattel slavery.

Ah! I see. Laura wants a go at Gi. An understandable reaction given the proceedings. We are all at that point now, in our own way; fish on Ishea's line. While the AhnIe is correct with regards to our customary practices, she must acknowledge the unkindness involved in denying such a request. Laura after all, unlike the rest of us, has nothing to go home to and not even a widow's prospect of offering her services or attending the ceremonies or the trials. Leaving her to her own devices after this lovely tease would be extremely poor hospitality. Nothing can be done here and now, but the AhnIe acknowledges some accommodation is in order. The details can wait until we've finished here.

Laura seems satisfied.

But I have not quite heard what she's settled for because I've been absorbed again in the play and flow of anticipation and satisfaction the rituals and ways of the goddess create when the AhnIe's discussion of our entitlement to the enjoyment of these young men turns to the dedicatory nature of their pleasures.

"These young men, like the wives who choose to serve at the temple with them, belong to the goddess." AhnIe explains. "She grants the use of them only to the wives or the couples who come together to honor her at the temple. But even then, she reserves for herself the offer of their tribute." she smiles and touches the string of pearls around her neck, one finger tracing along them.

And at this reminder of their duties during orgasm, Gi and Armand once again glance towards one another knowing there will inevitably be comparisons made of their respective performance. You can almost see the competitive surge in their loins as they scan one another and lift their chests in challenge under one another's gaze.

Women do compare, but not to the extent or always in the way men fantasize. Yet men are simply wired to think this way of us because it is what they do constantly with themselves. Nymnian women have developed a penchant for comparison that is at least partially fueled by the rewards of exploiting this innate male tendency. Feeling they're being compared makes them competitive and improves performance. It's a lovely dynamic any experienced wife learns how to exploit, particularly when it comes to the use of young men like these in the seduction of their own husbands.

There is an innate, visceral energy that is tapped when a man watches a woman being pleasured by other men. This is multiplied many times over if the woman happens to be his wife. This energy must find some way to dissipate itself. In other cultures, social expectations of male pride, status and entitlement would channel this into jealousy and socially encouraged, rewarded and admired retributive violence. This is a torment men in these cultures seek to avoid by female sequestration and other practices. But jealousy is never lessened by the enforcement of fidelity, it simply festers and heightens the torment suffered for any lapse (real or imagined) and breeds paranoia. This is the way of the worm.

But the way of the goddess offers no sanction and no rewards for responding to sexual jealousy with violence or anger. Such tendencies may still exist, but they are not admired, respected or encouraged. Quite the contrary; they are viewed as boorish, immature, sacrilegious and criminal (at least if acted upon). Male and female jealousy is sublimated into competitive lust.

The certainty of female promiscuity vanquishes suspicion and paranoia. There is nothing to be 'suspicious' of when my husband watches me orally luxuriate in the enjoyment of one of these fine cocks. A husband seeing his wife pleasured by other men does not need to deform the rest of his life with vigilance and conspiracy theories of 'infidelity'. But the visceral energy provoked by seeing me that way still needs somewhere to go. The way of the goddess directs this into a form of sexual competitiveness among men that heightens both their pleasure and ours.

To those who have not experienced it, it seems incredible. Outside of Nymnia, people are so surrounded by the norms and expectations that drive the worm's wheel of torment they cannot imagine their suffering is not inevitable. But under the influence of the goddess, a husband watching his wife give or take pleasure with other men (or women), finds her more attractive and desirable and lusts for her in ways and with an intensity that would be rare otherwise. Fucking her is suddenly an imperative need and receiving the pleasures she has given other men an experience of disproportionate intensity.

This is how many husbands describe it, but even without their descriptions, the effects are obvious and robust. Any wife will tell you that the best sex of their marriage, outside the temple precincts and aside from their honeymoon phase, occurs in the days and weeks after visiting the temple together. So many children are conceived in the days right after the summer Euios, that the midwives call the multiple births in the following May and June the "goddess' harvest".

This is the way of the goddess. Nymnian men understand full well what they gain in pleasure for accepting a privileged, but non-exclusive, sexual arrangement with their wives. Wives in turn, cultivate the art of enjoying other men and/or women in ways that feed and heighten the seductive potency and resultant pleasure of this for their husbands. I have learned to take greater pleasure at the spurt of a young cock in my hand from that look of blistering desire in my husband's eyes as he watches, than from the ecstatic cries and convulsive shudders of the interchangeable young men I finish this way to remind him, and me, that his wife is still a vibrant sexual being neither he, nor any other man, can fully possess or take for granted. No one does it like a Nymnian wife, and our husbands damned well know it.

Laura; The Nymnian Librarian

I want to contribute and be included here; I want my turn because I may never get another. But I wish things could slow down, at least in my head. I'm no good at this and the things they're asking me, saying, and all the time with the guys moaning and touching themselves that way...

I like it, I do, but it's so hard to focus on any one thing before it's something else that's demanding my attention. Especially now with Armand naked and stiff, I can't seem to settle down to take in anything fully.

Dora's asking something about do they dance well, which seems out of place. Even if they could, why bring it up now? But her asking makes them both moan and their cocks do that excited twitching they do. This excitement over dancing? So, okay, maybe...

But then the AhnIe snaps her fingers to get Armand's attention and makes this hand gesture at him, palm up, curled fingers like she's... yeah, not so subtle. Even I've picked up enough to translate that one. And for a split second I look back at Armand feeling smug because I know what's coming, but just as quick he swamps my vision as this huge muscular guy, like I'd forgotten what it really means, what she's asking, no ordering and expecting this guy will just do because she snaps her fingers and...

Tight lines crease the muscles in his thighs as he opens them, chest and abs ripple as the hips roll under and forward. He just does it. She snaps her fingers and he does it. Arms at his sides, looking across at us, he presents his balls.

"Ah, he's a wonderful dancer." Ariane says of Gi, carrying on the conversation even as she steps out slightly to appraise Armand from a better angle. "Hard and full. Barely takes anything off of it for him that way." she continues with a quick glance back over her shoulder at Dora before resuming her inspection of Armand. "Even adds to the pleasure for him sometimes I think, he's so keyed to perform." she completes her report on Gi's dancing abilities with an air of slight distraction.

And I should be trying to follow this but I'm just looking at the fat cock and imagining it pushed up that way, inside... Gods! That would tear a girl apart!

Lutressa knows Armand I guess, so doesn't need to look at his 'presentation'. She just carries on with Dora about the dancing. "He's passable." she says of Armand. "I mean, they'll all trip along a while on their own, but it seems to cut him short." she shrugs. "Probably not his best use."

Trip along? I try to picture these two dancing about, clumsily I guess, with their erections swaying and bobbing and...

Who would care about that? I mean, right now? Aren't we passed that sort of thing at this point?

Because right now, I'm looking back and forth between the slender, smiling Ariane with her delicate features and, and... that. Not just his cock, but all of him; those bullock sized balls, the taut muscles roping and popping like hungry snakes just under his skin. I can't even picture the fearless bitch Lutressa taking this one down. But still, yeah still... Unh!

It hits me in the gut like I could just kneel down in front of him and... and... I don't even know what.

I don't do that. Wouldn't. Never have. Just the thought, this feeling of needing to do something with that, or with Gi, even more tempting now when there's two of them this way that I could... they could... isn't that why they're here?

Ariane steps up to Armand but stays off to the side. She leans down slightly and stretches her hand out. His balls hang low and she gets her hand under them and lifts, jiggles her hand to make them roll side to side in the sack in her open palm.

"Slappers." Dora says.

Ariane glances our way. "Hmn." she nods at Dora but then looks back down and breaks into a smile when Armand exhales and his hips give a small, quick jerk like he's trying to help her shake them, but it's just this reflex thing he can't help. That's what makes her smile; he can't help it.

I smile too.

"Yeah, he's a hefty one." Lutressa snorts.

"Hmn." Ariane says again and lifts and lowers them a couple times like she's weighing them. "Yes. A hefty pair on this one." She seconds Lutressa's assessment.

It hits me, the whole way she does this, standing off to the side so she isn't blocking anybody's view, like the way she reached up between Gi's legs from behind so we could all see her hand play with him and watch his reaction. Ariane's having her own fun, sure, but she also likes being part of the show. These are much bigger balls than she had to work with before with Gi. These fill her open palm and the way she's showing them makes me imagine my hand...

Uhn, these women really do know how to do this, stage this so you just can't help...

There's this low growling sound. It's Armand. His chin is lifted, teeth clenched, and he's looking down at the AhnIe with an expectant grimace.

I realize, like Gi, he's waiting for...

"Yes." the AhnIe says simply. "Those are fine."

Ariane laughs, a short exhalation of amusement, and takes her hand away. Armand's balls slump back down in the sack and sway back and forth between his legs once or twice. Ariane straightens back up and...

"Well, Gi at least then." Dora continues the conversation from before.

Armand growls inarticulately, exhaling hard as he resumes a more relaxed stance.

"Laura should have a good Ulim dance to include in her report." Dora says, nudges me playfully. "Don't you think?" she asks.              

"What?" I look at Dora and she winks at me, waiting for an answer. "Sure, I guess." something about a dance, but I hope we can do that later because what I really want right now... I mean, to hell with dancing, if someone were to ask me.

My eyes stray back out to the two men and their erections. Can't believe anyone cares about dancing just now. What happened to Ariane 'taking' them. What about that?

"Sure." Ariane says. She and Gi are looking at one another. He seems desperately attentive to this exchange for some reason. But I would expect he has other things on his mind right now than choreography.

"You'll dance for us, won't you?" Ariane asks like it's a big tease and he'll be just thrilled.

"Ah, fuck!" Gi half whispers with a ragged exhale of breath, then, "Yes! Thank you, m'lady!" he manages and his cock jerks and bobs the way I like. Yes, that's nice, and "At your service." he gasps.

It occurs to me I'll never hear that phrase again in quite the same way.

That's lovely but... dancing? All this excitement for dancing?

Dora nudges me again. "There. Warming up for you already." she says with a short laugh.

I nod as if I get whatever it is I'm supposed to get about this, but he's just standing there like he has been, that fine cock of his doing the only dancing I can...

Ha! Dancing cock. Is that it? The Ulim dance? I suddenly feel clever and watch it bob now with a sense of satisfied amusement and...

Well, but that's nothing new, if that's it. Still, I like the sound of it. Dance for the ambassadress, pretty boy! Sure, these women, they would have a name for it but... Uhnm.

Gi is just so sweet, really. I picture him over me shuddering that way with that between my legs; I tell him, 'slow, slow' and 'yes, m'lady.' he gasps and, 'Thank you!' and I feel it flex up inside me just like it's doing now, so... 'At your service.' Eager but gentle, his ass in my hands as I pull him in and... just the way I always imagined it might be if...

Laura wants that. She could do it, take it, this Laura; the Nymnian behind the librarian. Ha!

"The roha, how does it work?" I ask, because, well...

"Hmn?" Dora asks. "The roha?"

She looks up and she and Ariane exchange glances then...

"Oh." Dora smiles at me. "Of course." she says knowingly.

"I mean, I just," I feel the heat in my cheeks again.

"Of course." Dora clears her throat, gets the smile off her face.

"Because she's, I mean Ariane, is going to... I'm assuming..." the librarian trying desperately now to run interference, pretending it's about Ariane.

"Uhnm, yes, probably." Ariane says with a laugh. "At least one of them." then, "You'd like that?" she asks.

"Yes." it comes out too quick.

In the pause that follows, Dora and Ariane exchange glances once more and the potential double entendre registers with the librarian.

"I mean..." the librarian in me wants to distance herself, but Laura has had enough of that sort of thing. "Yeah." she butts in. "I would."

"And you're thinking of...?" Ariane begins.

"Him." the Nymnian in me says, nodding towards Gi before she can finish asking.

Ariane beams. "Yes, that could be..." but then she pauses, frowns and her eyes dart towards Dora then come back, "I mean, not just now, but..." she turns towards the AhnIe, suddenly looking not so sure, "couldn't it?" she asks.

"Best to take the roha before and after. But at least before." Dora says.

I turn to her and she gives me an apologetic wince.

"How much before?" I ask.

We are laughing now, her hand on my arm. I'm shaking my head, because she doesn't have to answer that. I know what was going through my head, but neither the librarian nor the Nymnian Laura is going to let herself be fucked in the AhnIe's audience chamber, no matter what the answer. The ambassadress will control herself here. But I can think what I want. And here, at least, I'm starting to feel safe saying what I think as well.

"I'm just saying," I shrug after a moment, "it's very tempting."

"I'm so glad he pleases you." the AhnIe, leaning forward in her chair to look past Dora, smiles at me. "But as for right now, he needs an experienced woman like Ariane to present him properly. There are certain things we need to evaluate."

"I get that." I nod. The image of Ariane theatrically weighing Armand's balls flits back to mind. "I was just..."

"Well of course you were!" AhnIe laughs easily. "If they weren't provoking that sort of thinking they'd hardly be worth our time." she scoffs pleasantly, clearly trying to put me at ease. "I assure you, we're all feeling a bit of that at the moment."

And with that, my excuses, or maybe just my need for them, are gone. Yeah, Laura, give yourself a break. What else would any self-respecting woman be thinking just now? And... self-respecting... that's...

"But this situation..." the AhnIe's looks somewhat perplexed, "well, it's a bit unusual, so I just hadn't really given it any thought."

But I'm trying to corner this sudden epiphany before it...

"Surely, something." Ariane says with a sheepish smile. "I mean, it would be..."

I start to say something because I want them all to be quiet for a moment. Self-respecting. It's all upside down from the way...

"You see, as an unmarried woman," the AhnIe continues gently before I can cut it off, "it would not be customary for you to avail yourself of that. These young men, like the wives who choose to serve at the temple with them, belong to the goddess. She grants the use of them only to the wives at the ceremonies or the couples who come together to honor her at the temple." she smiles and touches the string of pearls around her neck, one finger tracing along them.

It's about self-respect. A Nymnian woman acknowledges her sexual appetites as part of her self-respect. Not just her own but... but...

"But, of course." I manage because I need to say something. I lean forward in my chair to look at the AhnIe more directly, wave a hand easily. "My apologies. I wasn't meaning..." I have no idea at the moment what I was meaning.

"Oh, no need to apologize." she interrupts earnestly. "It's important you understand this, lest you think we could be so ungenerous."

Ungenerous. Yet another... But I don't want to lose this self-respect idea. Because it's not just about the women, it's about all of this. This is what we all want, all of us, even Gi and Armand, in our various ways for our various reasons. But the wanting is not a sin or an embarrassment; the wanting itself is the gift of the goddess. And it is... honored.

But it seems presumptuous to cut her off with my 'AHA!' moment which to them... to them it is not a revelation; it is just the way of the goddess. So, I just nod and try to look as earnest as she does. But inside I can barely repress this new feeling of the freedom to want.

"It is an unusual thing, at least in Nymnia, for a woman your age not to be married or at least to have been married." the AhnIe explains. "Most women of age would be able to avail themselves of a young man like Gi by coming to the temple with their husbands or attending the ceremonies..." she shakes her head, "Anyway. But in those settings they serve a particular role which is not quite suited to," she pauses, frowns, "They are not substitute lovers or romantic companions; they are instruments of Ishea's grace. They are not suited to," again she pauses as if looking for the right phrase, "exclusively individual intimacy, I guess would be the best way to say it. The offering is a reminder and affirmation of that. When they come it is always for the goddess and the wives; offered for all women present. Ishea rouses them for our pleasure, but they are hers."

"Oh." Not sure what else to say. Bottom line; it sounds like I don't get to fuck Gi. But I kinda figured that already. "That's fine." To hell it is! But somehow, being able to just want it and say so, and have it acknowledged with that wonderful 'what else?' from the AhnIe... It is fine.

Besides, even if I could have that, what would I do with it? Urges are one thing but...

But just as my common-sense returns, the AhnIe circles back.

"Well, but I'm not sure it is, fine I mean." The AhnIe winces slightly. "The goddess is generous and frowns upon unkindness and it seems..." another pause, "not entirely in keeping with that to tempt you, as you say, this way and not be a bit more..." she sighs, then smiles at my expression, "we can arrange something." Then, darting her eyes at Gi and back, "I'm sure he'll have plenty left after this. They'll only offer once."

Wait. Plenty left? No need to translate that, even without that excited moan from Gi for context. Suddenly the image in my head is no longer fantasy and the logistics...

"No." I put an end to Laura's speculation. Whatever Laura may think, the librarian knows, she hasn't had a man since that one round of heavy petting in her teens and this would not be, for her, the casual sport it seems to these women. "I mean, thank you, but no, I would rather..." I clear my throat; the respect thing, the librarian is entitled to it too, and like it or not she just hasn't caught up here yet. "I would rather not. I would not be comfortable. I was just saying."

The AhnIe doesn't miss a beat. "Ah, of course. Just as you like." she beams, "I am so pleased though, that you find our young men tempting. That's entirely the intent. What one does with temptation is up to each of us to decide. It can be enjoyable in itself without more. I simply wanted to make sure that, in this case, it didn't lead to unnecessary frustration. That would not be suitable if you would wish it otherwise. Forgive me if I've presumed too much in offering."

And just like that, the whole situation comes together, the swirl of scattered, confusing pieces suddenly dropping into order and pattern; the formality and prurience, myth and practical mechanics, respect and amusement, the earnest sport of orchestrated pleasure and spontaneity. I know my place and my limits, the line between nervous excitement and discomfort; this is fine. More than fine, this is...

"Not at all." I answer. "This is all so new I don't know what to presume myself. But I'm so glad you let me stay. I don't know how I'm going to explain this in my report, but I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

There, finally, that's me.

Dora; Entertain me

I am usually not in favor of dallying over the preliminaries the way we have here. Teasing them may be good warm up for the wives in other settings, but we aren't here for that today. We already know they're desperate for it; no guide worth her salt would bring us one who wasn't high-strung that way. So, once we've sized them up, seen their faces and how their built and hung, it's time to let them surrender to it, to us, and show us how grateful they are with those desperate spurts and cries of 'Kieros! Kieros!'

That's how I prefer it; quick and businesslike, at least from our side. As for them, anything and everything but. I want to see it wrack them, empty them, shake them like a leaf in Ishea's gale. But I want them to know, I want to see in their eyes that they know that what for them is ecstatic and desperate, is just entertainment for us.

I've seen plenty of men. We all have. They come with predictable gasps, and gyrations and variations in force and volume; spurt, spurt, spurt; it would all be dull enough without that element of submission to my judgement. That's the beauty and pleasure in this. Yes. Entertain me. Because I have the power to choose who is rewarded, who goes back to the fields or the regiments. I want that truth to be as naked as they are; I want them to feel it like a glint of steel in my gaze as I smile pleasantly while they shudder. That is the essence of what it means to really 'offer'; otherwise, it's just some guy coming; big deal.

In that respect, toying with them overmuch can get them so wound up they forget who this is for. It's not for them. Not even really for me, at least not personally. They're here to serve and offer tribute to the goddess. And here, in this chair, the goddess sits, seeing through my eyes, feeling with my body, listening, watching... deciding. I love this job.

But today, after my initial impatience, I've found the extended toying with these two charming. Laura is wonderfully naive in the way only people with too much information and little or no experience can be. Her reactions are... endearing is the only word for it.

She is in many ways fearless despite her timidity. Watching her experiment, teasing Gi in her fumbling sort of way, his erection like a puppet on her string, seeing him gasping and alarming her with her own ability to excite him; seeing her gain confidence and then just as quickly lose it again, cringing instinctively as Armand is led in. But then she stiffens, clamps down on her panic and recovers her composure.

Despite her age, it's been like watching the sexual education of young girl from puberty to marriage compressed into an hour. But then, you really can't succeed with that, because 'education' is not experience. The goddess claims individual men and women each in their own way, seduces them by different paths of impression and temperament. The path by which any woman comes to her own appetites and pleasures, isn't separate from where she finally arrives. Laura may stay and observe today, we may send her to the trials and even the Euios, but there will always be something frantic - self-conscious rather than self-aware - in her experience of whatever pleasure she derives from this, because so much of her character and perception has already been formed by the way of the worm. Unlike a Nymnian woman, she will always be in some way looking back over her shoulder at anxieties she may suppress but cannot unlearn. She may observe, she may enjoy, but she will never perceive or experience the gifts of the goddess as a Nymnian woman does.

Not that we all experience them in the same way. At least for Nymnian women, there are so many possibilities to explore and the excitement of discovering and following those first strong inclinations makes the transition from girl to woman a heady time. It is that very freedom to follow wherever the goddess leads, or even to simply drift and sample, that sets a Nymnian woman's experience apart. I don't have to be from away to know this; I see it in every foreign man or woman who comes to the temple with their tight, skittish eyes and self-aggressive monitoring; unable to play, afraid to suffer either pleasure or disappointment, so always seeking the safety of a familiar role or mask to explain to themselves...

The worm twists every temperament and inclination into this one variety of experience. How different from the way of the goddess.

For some of us it is the allure of exposure and submission, imagining ourselves as the object of desire of male eyes and hands and cocks; such young women fantasize about service at the temple or being chosen as the wilding maid for the Euios. For others it is the urge for tactile possession, the pure sensation of heat and skin and wet. For others again, it's the romantic focus of serial seduction or the continuous seduction of some one man in marriage. Most women, given the opportunity, are omnivores, with a taste for all of these pleasures at one time or another in their lives.

I have little interest in the submissive pleasure of being possessed or objectified. Though I love my husband and enjoy marriage, neither of us have the capacity, or perhaps the imagination, for romantic fawning. Our love is deeply practical and visceral; we are a good team as workers, confidants and bedmates and that is exactly as we prefer it. I enjoy the tactile pleasures of sex and orgasm; it lets off the steam in a most pleasant way. But what boils the pot in the first place, at least for me, has always been this ineffable sense of my embodiment of Ishea, the enigmatic unmoved mover of lust; a sense that is always renewed by the pleasures of seeing a man acknowledge and surrender to it, to me. That's how I wound up here at the AhnIe's side evaluating prospects.              

I know for most women the spectacle of male offering is at most an enjoyable visual appetizer or compliment to the more substantial fare on offer at Ishea's feast. But for me, the truth revealed in the offering is the salt that makes the meal; the rest would seem flavorless without it. But even that does not quite get it; the affirmation of female choice is not just a spice to my palate, it can be a meal in itself if served up properly. And the way of the goddess; her stories, rituals, culture and training; has produced generations of Nymnian men ready to offer it up with eagerness and pleasure at the nod of a Nymnian wife.

Chenin; I want

So Gi will dance. Fine, I like it done that way if the man can make a good show of it. We'll see about Gi. But Gi isn't the attraction. Not for me anyway.

Laura, our guest, seems smitten with him though. Fishing, in her round-about way, for some special use privileges with him, as if he might be farmed out like a young bull to service her before he's even been accepted by the AhnIe and the wives into service.

The AhnIe, of course, stands on principle. Does her best to explain why pimping out the prospects to curious visitors isn't quite in keeping with the grand design. But then, rather quickly;

"We can arrange something." The AhnIe makes and executive decision to dispose of the goddess' property because it would be 'unkind' not to give poor Laura the use of him. And besides, "I'm sure he'll have plenty left after this. They'll only offer once."

Just like that.

Now, maybe the goddess really would approve. And all this talk about kindness and generosity; sure. But isn't it sweet how the kindness and generosity of the goddess allows us to make Gi and his 'nice cock' a consolation prize for our less fortunate guest from away?

I have no objection. I rather like the thought of handing him out this way for Laura to indulge her (apparently) near virginal curiosity and appetites; makes it all so... Ishea forgive me, but, demeaning. Again, not the point. No, no, the goddess is kind and generous. But, come on girls, still part of the fun, isn't it?

I don't know who's more disappointed, me or Gi, when Laura suddenly says;

"No."

Aw! Why not?

"I mean, thank you, but no, I would rather..." she clears her throat, no doubt noting poor Gi's crestfallen look, reduced again to the prospect that he will 'only offer once' even though he'll have 'plenty left' that could have been so pleasurably disposed of. But, "I would rather not." she says definitively. "I would not be comfortable. I was just saying."

I guess 'individual intimacy' is not Laura's thing after all. Well, perhaps we should just let him fuck her here. Wouldn't that be the kind thing? Why should Ariane have all the fun?

But the AhnIe doesn't go there. Doesn't need to. She's already had the satisfaction of demonstrating her entitlement to gift him, all in the name of kindness, to be sure.

"Ah, of course. Just as you like." the AhnIe all but gushes. "I am so pleased though, that you find our young men tempting. That's entirely the intent. What one does with temptation is up to each of us to decide. It can be enjoyable in itself without more. I simply wanted to make sure that, in this case, it didn't lead to unnecessary frustration. That would not be suitable if you would wish it otherwise. Forgive me if I've presumed too much in offering."

Yes; do forgive us.

"Not at all." Laura is gracious. "This is all so new I don't know what to presume myself. But I'm so glad you let me stay. I don't know how I'm going to explain this in my report, but I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Fair enough. She, at least, is not trying to dress this up too much. Maybe she'll even be honest in her report; use the word 'demeaning' without a scholarly gloss and still admit 'I wouldn't have missed this for the world.'

Me either. Not for anything. But not because of Gi.

Armand. Gods, that is so...

When he rolls his hips under to present his balls, that splendid chunk of pillar with its fat head jutting up against those stacked box abs, his chest and shoulders creased with muscle and... fuck, I can hardly see straight! I just get this way, I do, for a man like that. All man, pure brute; none of this pretty boy stuff.

To hell with the goddess and making him offer for us; I want his come, but this way is such a waste. I want to worship that, and I want him to make me.

I know he's thinking it. He watched my ass all the way in, I know he did and he knows even when I was playing with Gi, that was for him. He knows it. They've got him all tied up with these damned goddess stories, but those ropes just build the tension. I want to just tease and tease until he can't take it and needs to take me. Tease until he's so stiff and worked up that that big chest heaves and the ropes snap and he comes at me to take what he wants. Because a man like that, that's always what he wants; to take; and that's exactly why I want him.

I want him to stride over here and drag me out from behind the AhnIe's chair, rip this silly green gown off of me. He won't ask, he won't even undo the cord, just tear it away in his grip, like tissue. I want those big hands to grab me by the shoulders and shove me down to my knees in front of him. I want his cock in my face, want to hear him growl and tell me to suck it, stroke it, use my mouth like a cunt, shove it at me so I have to put both hands around that fat shaft to stop him from choking me with it. But I want all of it I can get; please, make me suck it and taste that salty pre-come, work my tongue around that fat, spongy head then take it to the back of my throat and thrum, thrum, thrum my tongue up against the underside of the shaft just below it, sucking hard and thruming that sensitive spot until he shudders with it and groans and...

I want it to be too much for him to take without coming in my mouth, make him push me back away, but I'll cling, and beg him for it, take him in my mouth again and try to make him give it to me that way even though he wants it in my cunt, not my mouth. I do too, but my loyal resistance will just make him wilder to give me what I'm begging for on his terms. I want him to have to push me away hard, grab my hair and pull me to my feet, then bend down and jam his hands between my thighs, push my knees apart and lift me, sweep my feet out from under me as he lifts and spreads me, his thick forearms slipping up along my back as he raises me off the ground, supporting me as he spreads his elbows, forcing my legs apart, my thighs draped over his stiff biceps, my small hands on those enormous shoulders trying to keep my balance as he tips his arms up further to slide my hips down to his mouth and drives his tongue up into my cunt like he owns it, because he does. My hands in his hair, I'll scream and come and buck against his mouth and try to give it all to him.

I'll come and he'll taste the salty slickness of my release and know he's got me ready to take him. A man like this knows where a cock like that belongs. Not parading around for show, but deep and hard up inside cunt; mine. Please, mine. He's got me so ready, his mouth and chin already slippery with my surrender, I cling to him as he lowers those huge arms, the back of my thighs slipping off of his biceps down his forearms. He juts his elbows out, spreading me as I slip down, spreading me until my cunt gapes for him and my inner thighs burn with how badly he wants me spread for him, so open, so he can... oh, fuck!

He slams it into me, drives me down on it, shoves it up hard, all the way. That's how I want it; not pretty, not gentle, that isn't what a man like that is good for. I want him to spread me open and shove it just as hard as I want him to want it in me. I want him to fuck me so hard that his balls swing up and slap my ass every thrust. I want those big hands gripping my hips and shoving me down on it. I want to feel every fiber of muscle in his chest and ass and stomach and arms and thighs clenched and straining when he shoves it up into me, hitting my clit like a hammer with his pubic bone each time, making my body jump as I cling to him. I want him to own me, impale me, just fuck me the way only a man like that can, until he shudders and crushes me against his chest and that fat cock throbs up inside me and I feel that hot pulse, pulse, pulse, of the come from his balls as he moans and puts it right where I know he wants it.

That's what I want, what a man like that makes me want. I can't help it.

Compared to that, this little round of show and tell is a waste. But I'm not going anywhere. Shit, I'd stay to watch him play cards if that was all we could get him to do, because the whole time, just like now, I'd be imagining...

I have got to get to the trials this year, the Euios and, as many times as I need to, get my husband to the temple until I get to use that, or more accurately, have that use me the way I ought to be used.

Still, if all I get today is an offer, I know how I'd like it done. So, when Ariane asks if there is anything special we'd like, I'm tempted to jump in with a suggestion. But it's not really my place, so I bite my tongue and hope for the best.

It's Cedera who throws out the first suggestion.

"Well, I, at least, was thinking, for myself of course, but also for Laura's benefit, they could demonstrate some of the other required skills on their way to offering."

"Ooooh," Ariane sighs happily, "that would be fine with me."

"I hoped it would be." Cedera coos back at her.

"Uhnm." is all Ariane says, but her smile speaks volumes.

Cedera tears her eyes away from Ariane, shakes her head slightly as if to clear it, looks down past the AhnIe to, "Dora, weren't you starting to tell Laura earlier about..." she breaks off, then, "Dora." when she sees she hasn't yet got her attention. "Dora!" A bit louder.

"Hmm, oh yes." Dora blinks like someone has just woken her, turns towards Cedera. "Sorry." she says, "Just thinking about the first... Nevermind. Yes. What?"

"Weren't you telling Laura about the requirements earlier, just before Armand came in?" Cedera asks.

"Ahm, yeah," Dora says doubtfully. "Well, I mentioned them anyway. But we didn't have time to really..." she breaks off, shrugs.

I lean slightly forward from my spot behind the AhnIe's chair to see down the line to our ambassadress. Laura's expression...

Wait, I seem to remember that expression and something comes back to me. Yes, that would be just to my taste!

"Well, I think it would give Laura a better sense too, of the sorts of service they provide if we had them..." Cedera pauses again and glances back at Ariane, "arranged to suit your pleasure, of course, whatever your mood and what's at hand inclines you to."

"Huhn!" Ariane snorts happily, eyeing the males on either side of her, "that could be quite a list." she teases.

I know I'm not an official evaluator, but if this is really about getting Laura something she'll like, I think I know something about that and, as it happens, if all I get to do is watch, it's top of my list for best possible voyeuristic uses for Armand as well.

I lean forward just a bit further from behind the AhnIe's chair to get into the conversation.

"Excuse me, but when I came out to usher the ambassadress in, it did seem that she was quite taken with the anteroom fresco. So perhaps something along that line would..."

Laura seems to wince, like she thought (or hoped) I hadn't noticed that. She opens her mouth like she wants to object but nothing comes out except.

"Ahmhhhm, ehh."

"I love that one myself." I say quickly, hoping to disarm her defensiveness. "An iconic presentation. A favorite with the wives." I'm rambling a bit, but I don't want her silly embarrassment to nix this.

Laura swallows, licks her lips. Then, "I can see why." she says.

Good. That sounded like a yes.

Laura; the debate

Ariane stands between Gi and Armand, as their hands work their erections and their gaze shifts attentively from one to another of us. She glances back and forth between them, considering, then;

"Any requests for how you'd like to see them done?" she asks. "I mean, other than the dance for Gi. Simple and quick or..." she smiles, shrugs.

Done? Simple and quick? The incongruence between my level of arousal and this casual banter is not entirely unpleasant, but it is a little disorienting. The guys are standing right here and we're just discussing this like...

They carry on but I hardly follow. Cedera has something she thinks would be for my benefit. Dora seems confused or distracted but I'm just looking back and forth between Gi and Armand, watching their hands work, their stances wide, their balls jogging along with each stroke, their eyes shifting from one to another of us women as we talk.

"Well, I think it would give Laura a better sense too, of the sorts of service they provide if we had them..." Cedera is saying when Armand looks at me and stops stroking, clutching that thing at the base, showing it off for us, for me, while these women just keep chatting.

"arranged to suit your pleasure, of course," Cedera says to Ariane as Gi moans and follows Armand's example; both of them up for display now and Cedera just continues, "whatever your mood" she pauses just slightly dipping her head playfully towards those two jutting erections, "and what's at handinclines you to."

I look from one cock to the other and back. Queen Elanor would no doubt enjoy a thorough description of their endowments. I doubt that sort of thing would have much scholarly value, though. That's funny.

"Excuse me, but when I came out to usher the ambassadress in, it did seem that she was quite taken with the anteroom fresco."

What was that?

I turn and see Chenin is leaning forward from behind the AhnIe's chair. She meets my gaze. "So perhaps something along that line would..."

Oh, crap! But of course, she noticed that! I knew she did but what do they expect, with that thing right there in your face? She... Well, then again, if she's...

"Ahmhhhm, ehh." I hem, because if she's suggesting...

"I love that one myself." she gushes. "An iconic presentation. A favorite with the wives."

Now I wish I'd been paying better attention. My eyes stray back out to those two erect penises; if the idea is that these two, or at least one of them, should be 'done' in some version of that very healthy young man on his back in that fresco...

I look back at Chenin, she's nodding at me encouragingly and, well, if that's what she'd like, I certainly won't discourage it.

"I can see why." I say, nodding back at her, my voice a little shaky there. I clear my throat because I should be able to just, "I mean, I wouldn't know about iconic or not," come on Laura, you can do this, "you would know that better, of course." stop rambling and say it, "But I did find that fresco" tempting? God's no! Suggestive? Don't be stupid! Say something "nice."

Big smiles now from Chenin, AhnIe, Cedera. But I am suddenly conscious of the men, standing right here who I've just suggested...

"Oh yes," it's Ariane, "I can work with that. But depending on..." she breaks off, then, "maybe a slight variation? Well," she pauses, wicked smile, "perhaps not so slight but something..." breaks off again.

She's looking alternately between the AhnIe and me as if I...

"It's not up to me." I say quickly to Ariane, and look down at my hands, finding myself unable momentarily to look at the two men on either side of her. "You're the one who..." unrh, squelch that, I think she knows who's doing what here. But what exactly am I doing here.

"Yes." Ariane enthuses and her tone makes me look back up despite myself. "Thank goodness." her smile goes soft and her eyes go to Gi, then Armand. "So," back to me again, "is it the whole presentation, the three? I mean, we don't have three. But was it some element, like maybe the prone offering, that..." she raises an eyebrow at me "you found particularly nice?"

She's asking about the fresco, I know this but the words are... 'elements', I guess that would mean the guys and, what did I like about it? My gaze darts between the two men; no different than before, but now it's me who's... Focus Laura, on what she's asking you. The prone offering, that would be...

"The one on his back;" I say, still putting together the jargon with the image, "that one was..." hnmmm, the image flashing back, the lifted chin, the giving flesh between the goddess' legs, the thought of having a guy's mouth, tongue doing that while he makes himself... I shouldn't be... "But it isn't up to me." I repeat.

"Yeah, the one on his back." Chenin jumps back in, nodding even more vigorously, "I was right about that then." she laughs happily like a schoolgirl who's just guessed her best friend's favorite color.

I'm nodding, smiling back at her. What the hell; it's true.

"Sure then." Ariane says quickly. "We can do that, but I just need something else before..." she's looking at me like it's up to me to give her permission.

I'm laughing; nervously but really. "It isn't up to..." okay, tried that already, they just want to know, "That sounds fine, whatever else you like, want, really."

"Splendid." Cedera says from her spot at the far end. "We have enough, I think, to know what we're looking for from them. But, of course," she looks again out to Ariane, "a lady should be free to improvise as the goddess may inspire."

The AhnIe is smiling, nodding her approval.

"Armand." it's Chenin once more. "Prone, I mean," she smiles at Ariane, shrugs, seems slightly abashed as if she had spoken out of turn, "my preference, not that I..." slight wince, "Just my preference, but you, of course..." she bows slightly in deference to Ariane.

"Mine as well, as it happens." Ariane smiles and turns her gaze towards Gi. "As for this one, I want a proper farewell from my lovely young man before I send him off to the goddess and the wives."

"But he'll dance." Dora reminds. "That was the..."

"Oh, yes." Ariane purrs. Then turns to, "Armand," she says, "I'm hoping you're alright with sharing while he fucks me. I love the two together," her expression softens, "if my men don't object."

I think I know what she's asking but the visceral impact of the words is slapping the literal translation sideways on me.

Armand is a head or more taller, looking down at her as she stands beside him, a naked hulk of a man clutching his erect penis, his expression seems to mirror my own visceral override of rational interpretation. He raises his brows as if to say, 'was that a question?' His eyes stray momentarily past her to Gi, then return.

"How ever you like." he answers and, in his tone, I hear some of that swagger, like he's offended she'd feel the need to ask.

"Uhnmmm, is that right?" Ariane likes that answer.

"Yes, m'lady." his lip curls slightly as if mocking the formality even as he observes it.

Ariane seems pleased rather than put off by this cocky attitude. She glances quickly back over her shoulder at Gi, then turns back to Armand.

"So, if I'd also like you to share by encouraging Gi in the dance?" she pauses, and her eyes narrow, her smile thins as if amused. "You'll be right there and" she snorts softly, "the opportunity will present itself." she shrugs, then, "Unless..." her voice trails away, she waits.

"Unless?" Armand growls low, his eyes scanning her face. "You'd like that then, would you?" he asks in mild sarcasm, then looks our way, his gaze sweeping along the line of seated women, meeting my own briefly in transit then pausing momentarily further down the line on the AhnIe, or maybe it's Chenin, before turning back to Ariane with an amused smirk. "Make it more entertaining, would it?" like he's gently taunting.

But once again, this attitude seems only to encourage Ariane.

"Ohn, yes!" She purrs at him hungrily. "When you put it that way," she takes a step forward, reaches with one hand to wrap it around his cock. Her hand looks small, can't fully wrap around it. She starts pumping gently in short, deliberate strokes just beneath the head.

His own hand drops away from it and he looks down to watch as she works him.

"Yes." Ariane breathes happily. "That will certainly add to our entertainment. But for me, I just love the thought; both of you so caught up in... hnmmm!" she strokes and purrs.

A soft moan from Gi behind her makes her smile.

I can't tell what this is. Is it an actual negotiation of terms, or is each of them just egging the other on as part of the 'sport'.

"Gods, you women..." Armand exhales after a moment.

"Is that a yes?" Ariane asks with an edge of playful impatience.

"Ahnmm," Armand closes his eyes a moment like he's collecting himself. "I am, uhnmm, I am at your service, m'lady."

So that means...?

"Good." Ariane laughs softly then, "I am so looking forward to this." she tells him and pumps his cock a few times quickly for emphasis, then releases it and steps back away.

"Yes, very good." The AhnIe says. "All set then."

"You won't be needing this, then?" the fearless bitch Lutressa asks Ariane.

She's standing a bit to one side, pointing to the chair Gi had used to demonstrate his coital potential. "Cause I'll get off my feet if it's..." she shrugs, looks slightly bored.

"No, we won't." Ariane agrees. "Get comfortable."

"Good enough." Lutressa nods.

Everything is suddenly in motion in every direction at once.

Lutressa circles back to where the empty chair is and just picks it up; big chair, but she hefts it and carries it out around the two men. Chenin darts out from her place behind the AhnIe, heading to a nearby trestle where there are vials and towels. She needs to swerve a bit to avoid Lutressa and her chair on the way past.

Ariane says, "Find me." two words, and the two men turn and converge on her from either side, hands groping at the green silk of her robe.

Lutressa and her burden block my view momentarily as she swings the chair into place and clunks it heavily down beside me to my right, muttering to herself, "Gods, my feet are sore. Should'a come up last night." The wooden legs skveak on the polished floor as she adjusts the angle then turns and plops into it with an "Ahn, that's better."

Her practical banter makes an odd counterpoint to the scene in front of me.

The green robe is now a crumpled wisp on the carpet at Ariane's feet and she is a graceful, naked, willowy reed of flesh and breasts and the dark shadow between slender thighs, her figure dwarfed by the size and smothered by the press of the two men against her. Her two pale, slender hands groping down, finding their erections on either side as their bodies curl to offer them to her touch and bend to maul her breasts and nipples with lifting hands and hungry tongues. They lift her between them like a leaf in their surge of muscle and heat.

"Ohhhn, gods!" It just slips out of me; they'll crush her, devour her, fuck her just... two words and they just...

Dora; Hands-on diplomacy

"Ohhhn, gods!" Laura, beside me, sighs when Gi and Armand seize upon Ariane.

Yes, yes; living the dream.

Armand has one big hand under Ariane's pretty ass to lift and tilt her pelvis, his other hand grips her soft inner thigh, lifting her knee up and back to open her to Gi's long fingers, probing gently between her legs. She mews as Gi pushes a finger slowly up inside. The soft sounds of her wetness under his hand tell me she's already eager to welcome more than a finger or two into that temple.

"Uhhnnmmm." Laura sighs sympathetically.

She really is sweet.

"That's one of the requirements." I tell her.

She turns, focuses on me, but looks dazed.

"A man should know, just with his hands, how to pleasure a..." I start to explain, but,

"Oh." she says before I'm finished, "That's good." and turns back to watch.

Chenin has brought the oil. She's standing slightly to one side holding the silver vial, waiting for some sign from Ariane. But Chenin will need to be patient for a bit longer.

Ariane's small hands release their cocks. She sweeps her arms up, leans back and drapes her arms over their shoulders on either side as they lift her between them to better get at her with mouths and hands; Armand's big hand under her ass, his other inside her thigh lifting her leg up and back to spread her for Gi's pleasuring fingers; both of their heads down, eager tongues snaking about her stiff nipples. Gi slips his free arm behind her lower back to support her, the slender leg Armand isn't holding, hangs free, her toes stretched down like she's trying to find the floor with it.

Gi's fingers delve deep inside, two of them now, his thumb, circling gently, rolling her clit, knowing his guide and just how she prefers it, the soft, satisfying squwick of her wetness as he finger-fucks her, a testament to his skill.

"That will make her come." I tell Laura.

And, apparently, rather quickly. Fine. No need to pace herself if the goddess provides.

"Oh, yes, you know just how, just..." Ariane whimpers.

Gi reads her pleasure, it feeds his own, setting free a quick, fluttering, flourish from those probing fingers.

Her hips buck, her free leg bends, lifts to spread further for him, her ass clenching prettily in Armand's huge hand.

Slipping those two long fingers deep up inside now, his thumb sweeping rapidly back and forth over her clit; yes, apparently, he does know just how.

The goddess takes her, shudders her, pushes the air from her lungs, sets her writhing like a twisting taper in the wind between them, clenching and bucking as they hold her.

"Ah, yes, make her." Laura exhales softly, "ahn, yeah."

I look at our guest; this goes beyond empathy; it's is almost as if she can't sit still watching this. Her response is so intense it makes me wonder whether a man, or even another woman, has ever made her come before? I've heard far worse than that about the solitary, shamed and brutalized lives of women from away, but you never really think...

A disturbing thought.

I suddenly feel responsible to do something about that.

Ariane's body calms. They allow her to slip back down onto her feet between them. She's a little unsteady, like a fawn on her first legs, her arms about their waists. Their erections brush against each other in front of her as she pulls them closer for balance as she recovers herself.

This is lovely. But I can't shake that disturbing thought about Laura's probable sexual depravation. She mustered the courage (incredibly, that's what it must take for a repressed woman like her) to say she 'liked' Gi's cock. I feel suddenly determined that, even if it scares her at first, she deserves, no she needs, the chance to enjoy what she 'likes' a bit more fully. It's a poor enough consolation for years under the worm, but I'm determined she should at least have that.

"Ahn, Chenin, yes," Ariane, still sandwiched between her two men, glances out to the servant nearby, "the oil, yes, thank you."

She disentangles herself from their embrace and steps out from between them, still seeming a bit unsteady.

Now's the time, before some other arrangement is decided.

"May I, with Gi?" I ask.

Ariane turns my way, gives me a radiant, stupidly blissful, smile.

"Sure." she shrugs, laughs. "Sure. I need a moment anyway."

"I'll ready Armand." Chenin offers hopefully- no surprise there. Then, "Yes, you take a minute to recover." she encourages Ariane. "We'll handle this."

"Hmmm, yes, thanks." Ariane sighs and drops down to sit cross legged on the carpet. "Uhnm, yes." she draws a deep breath and exhales happily.

Chenin gets her wish, and I, Laura's, even if Laura doesn't know it yet.

"Another vial then, Chenin." I say, hoping this moves quickly before Laura has time to get anxious when what I have in mind registers.

Chenin nods, skips off happily to fetch a second vial of oil.

I do not want to give Laura the chance to object, or even inquire, as my gift to her develops, so I intentionally don't glance at her as I lift my right hand from the arm of my chair next to her and hold it out, palm up, to signal Gi where I want him.

Ariane has trained him well. He knows what I expect and comes towards me.

Again, I don't want any questions from Laura here, so as Gi approaches, I lean to the side away from her and look out past him to speak to Ariane.

"Has he had the chance to share that with others, or just you?" I ask. I don't care about the answer; just keep coming Gi.

"His hand work, you mean?" Ariane asks as Gi arrives before me.

"Ahhnm!" Laura reacts in soft diffidence. I sense her shifting in her chair beside me.

"Yes." I reply to Ariane, leaning out slightly further to look at her past Gi's hip, moving away still further from Laura on the other side where Gi has now arrived.

His skin radiates heat. The scent of Ariane's arousal still clinging to his hand and the soft musk of his own mingle pleasantly.

"Mostly with me, of course, but his former guide, Simine, said he was excellent with her as well." Ariane answers.

Gi understands what that open hand of mine is asking for, and as Ariane speaks, he shifts to position himself. I don't look at him or move my hand to help, leaving it to him to manage.

"He's so responsive." Ariane continues in Gi's praise, "He reads you, knows just when to back off, when to press for more."

I'm nodding as she speaks, feel the warmth of Gi's thighs on either side as he straddles my outstretched hand, then bends his knees to

"Yes." I say as I feel his balls press my open palm, hear him exhale and see the reflexive bob of his cock in my peripheral vision in response to the contact. "He seemed to." I continue on with Ariane, intentionally making him wait, hoping any initial alarm Laura may feel at having Gi come so close will be dissipated by my casual treatment of the situation.

Now. I turn towards him, close my hand around his balls, lifting them to let him unbend his knees and straighten up until the head of his cock bobs happily at eye level in front of me.

"Thank you, m'lady!" he exhales hard again, thrusts his hips forward.

"So," I say, pausing a moment to enjoy the feel of him in my hand before turning at last towards Laura, "as I was saying, good hands are one of the required skills if they want to serve at temple."

I intentionally do not react to her expression, as if we are just carrying on our previous exchange on the matter.

She has shifted far back in her chair, leaning out and away to her right over the arm towards Lutressa, her eyes making a nervous circuit from my hand and what it holds, up to Gi's face and then to mine again as if trying to put the elements together into a single picture. She seems surprised but doesn't look panicked, at least not yet.

"What are you..." she begins the question, but her voice trails off as her gaze runs the circuit once more to come back to mine.

I ignore the question, avoiding 'discussion' which I understand she uses for defense, in favor of a more visceral appeal. We aren't going to argue about this.

"Ehhrrr," I growl a bit theatrically and work Gi's balls like a pair of worry-stones in my hand, "nothing like a handful of young balls to put me in the mood."

Stupid, sure, even if it's true. But I'm hoping this is just gratuitous and blatant enough to shut down that little screamie-meemie note taker in her head who insists on talking everything out, thinking it all through, killing it with reason before she'll touch it.

It seems to work, at least for a moment. Her gaze moves between mine, the work of my hand and his face as if she's trying to make the picture converge with my verbal description. Gi helps out by moaning and thanking me yet again.

Chenin is at my left shoulder now, leaning forward, holding out a silver vial of oil she's fetched for my use. She pushes it at me, trying to get my attention, impatient to get back to Armand and her own agenda.

I wave her off, point with my free hand across at Laura.

"Give it to her." I instruct.

Chenin circles back around Gi to my other side. Even more impatient now, she pushes the vial towards Laura.

Still trying to process my assault on her sensibilities, Laura takes the vial absently, surely not registering what it's for or how holding it, now, will allow me to make her complicit before she can complain or object.

I'm half afraid the AhnIe will intercede to 'protect' our guest. But I'm sure I do know what Laura actually wants, if she could just get out of her own way.

"Ah!" I say brightly as if seeing her with the vial in her hands is a pleasant surprise. "Good, good." don't give her time to think. With Gi's balls still in the hand closest to her, I reach across my body with the other towards her, palm up.

I look at her as if I expect she already knows what to do, bug my eyes at her.

"The oil, give me some." I urge after a moment.

She looks down at the vial in her hand like she's just realizing she has it, pauses, then, still leaning back away, extends her arm and tries to hand it to me. I wave my hand, refusing it. She pulls it back, looks confused. I put my hand out again towards her.

"Pour some oil in my palm." I say to her and laugh as if, of course, she knew that already.

A new task, manageable, a new distraction from debate. She looks down at the vial in her hand like it's some logistical challenge to operate the thing, then back up to my open palm. She frowns, uncorks it. I pull my hand back a bit so she has to lean forward slightly, out of her defensive position against the far arm, has to reach in past the lovely upward curve of Gi's cock to pour some into my palm. Her eyes go to it briefly as she tips the vial and pours. As soon as she's finished, I start talking to her again, to forestall a retreat.

"Let me see." I say as I curl my fingers back against my palm and move them to spread the oil over my hand. "I might need just a little..." I let that hang, a pretext to keep her close, the vial still poised in case I decide I need more.

There. She lifts her eyes to Gi's erection which is right in front of her now.

"Let's see how this" I bring my hand up quickly, "does." and wrap it around his cock. "Uhnm, very nice." I purr as I slick up the shaft with a few long graceful strokes; and, indeed, it is, very nice. I may prefer watching them do themselves to this, but I'm not immune by any means to the pleasures of handling men this way. I squeeze his balls gently and enjoy the slide of his slickening cock through the curl of my fingers, close the spongy head in my palm and work it as he moans his thanks.

I've guessed right. Her interest overcomes her anxiety; Laura doesn't back away. She watches my hands work him.

I drive my hand hard to the base of his cock. Well trained, he thrusts his hips forward and under to present it for me. I pause a moment, examining my work, the fresh sheen on the flushed head atop the gracefully curved upright stalk.

"We'll need more, don't you think?" I ask Laura.

In my peripheral vision I see her turn to look at me but I bring her attention back to where I want it. I tip his cock in her direction.

"Does he look done to you?" I ask.

She has no idea, of course, and I'm not expecting an answer, at least not a coherent one, but it does focus her where I want.

"Well, I," she begins but,

"Here." I say, and release his balls, drop my hand to the outside of his leg and prod him. This will either work or it won't.

He knows what I'm after, it's what he wants as well, shifts his stance to turn towards Laura.

He's actually no closer than before, but the reorientation and his obvious excitement at presenting himself to the 'woman from away' makes her flinch, begin to draw back.

"Pour some on the head." I say evenly.

This forestalls her retreat, her eyes come to mine. Yes. She's fine. She just needs to be told rather than take the initiative herself. She's going to thank me for this.

"We need more." I shrug easily, "You see?" motion with my eyes towards the cock in my hand. Her eyes go there. "I need your help." an obvious lie, but she isn't going to argue. "Pour some on the head."

Simple instructions. Not her idea, but she wants to be 'helpful'. And to do this right she must focus, lean forward and aim that thin stream of oil from the vial carefully so it lands where it should, see it run down the front of the shaft, keep her focus on that cock as it twitches happily in my grip and then,

"Here, here." I say, needlessly tipping his cock forward and side to side so the stream drenches the head from each angle and the oil is running down onto my curled fingers at the base.

"Good. Now work that in." I tell her.

Just then, Armand's voice comes from out where Chenin has taken him in hand to oil.

"Thank you, m'lady!" he growls hoarsely.

For just a moment, Laura is distracted. Her eyes leave the task at hand and dart out to Armand and Chenin.

Shit. Not now, she was just...

But her eyes quickly come back, focus again.

"We need to..." I start to prompt her.

"Okay." she says before I get the rest out and then just does it.

Her free hand comes up from her lap and closes around the upper shaft just below the head. She squeezes. Gi moans.

"Uhnmmmm!" she exhales, lifts her thumb to sweep over the head, "gods." softly, then starts to smile.

"Thank you, m'lady!" Gi bucks slightly under the play of her thumb over the cleft of the head.

She looks up at his face, continues to tease it, watching his expression. Then her hand slides a bit further down the shaft, squeezes again testing its girth and firmness.

"Gods." she laughs softly.

I release my grip, take my hand away to let her, "Here." I say and reach with both hands to take the vial from her "Give me this." I say.

She surrenders the vial readily and, I don't have to tell her any more what she wants. Her other hand comes up to curl around the shaft just below the first. Hand over hand she squeezes it again, admires it in her grip.

"Ahnm, so stiff!" she looks at me, "He's so stiff." she repeats.

I nod. "Yeah." then, "go on now." I give her a big smile. "Work that in for us."

There. That's a smile. Laura turns back and begins to 'help', a bit tentatively at first but with growing confidence and obvious pleasure as her hands slip and sqwick up and down the shaft and curl over the bulbous head, her fingers splaying and sliding in happy exploration. You can see it in her expression how his response to her touch feeds her enjoyment, teasing, making it twitch and pulse in her hands, hearing the catch in his breathing, glancing up at his face, making him thrust and eliciting yet another,

"Thank you m'lady!" from him.

Yes. He has much to be thankful for today. We might just have talked to him for a bit then had him jerk off for us. But, on account of our guest mostly, Gi has gotten a bit pampered and fussed over. He's had the excitement of an exotic female to perform for, the pleasure of extended verbal teasing, being handled by Ariane, Chenin, me and now our nearly virginal woman from distant lands. And he's not finished yet. He'll have quite a story to tell the other prospects when we're done, won't he?

"That's it." I encourage her, needlessly now. "Work it in for me."

She nods, slides forward in her chair to get closer.

"Ahn, that's a good cock." she says, and this time there's no little squeak when she says 'cock'. "I did want to do this." she glances over at me momentarily and smiles when her words make Gi moan and thrust it at her until it almost hits her cheek.

She backs away slightly but only to get a better view, drops one hand down now to take his balls, laughs softly when this sets off yet another moan and thrust as he offers them to her.

"Yeah, play with his balls. That's good. They love to be handled this way." I tell her.

"Good." she says simply.

Yes, good. I reach in and wipe some of the excess oil that ran down onto the back of my hand onto his flat stomach as our guest continues to enjoy him. She'll need to give him up soon enough. But I've done my bit for diplomacy here.

I turn to glance at the AhnIe.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Very irregular." she says in mock indignation.

We both laugh.

Cedera: circumstances and arrangements

"Very irregular." the AhnIe says in jest.

Dora is obviously quite pleased with herself. As she should be. I would have been more cautious. Laura surprises me, as she probably does herself. She did not panic or demur as I thought she might.

For Laura's benefit, the AhnIe allows the preparation of the prospects to extend beyond what's necessary to lubricate them for Ariane's use.

Chenin, on her haunches on the floor in front of Armand, clearly relishes the opportunity afforded by the additional time. She has both hands on him, looking up between his legs from below as she fondles and strokes. He's fully oiled but when Chenin glances over her shoulder towards the AhnIe and the rest of us, she senses there will be some delay in proceeding and is clearly reluctant to release Armand before she has to.

"Ariane," she says softly, getting her attention.

Ariane turns to look at her.

"He's ready." Chenin says, "but if they're still," she bites her lower lip, raises her brows playfully, "would you mind if I, just a taste? He's so..."

"Tempting, yes." Ariane finishes her thought with a laugh. "Go on."

"Uhn, yeah." Chenin says happily, rises up on her knees, tips his cock down and darts her tongue out playfully over and around the head, tipping it side to side to christen it thoroughly before closing her mouth over it and sucking, the big head alone stretching her cheeks.

Ariane glances briefly back at Gi, but then, apparently having recovered herself, gets to her feet and skips over to stand beside Armand, rising up on her tip toes and talking softly in his ear to tease him as Chenin sucks. A pretty vignette, but I prefer watching Laura with Gi.

Dora reaches in and pours a thin stream of additional oil over the head of Gi's cock. Laura watches as it runs prettily from the head and down the front and sides to where her hand grips him. The additional oil is just a pretense to keep Laura at her assigned task for a little longer.

But Laura readily accepts the implication that there is more to do. She leans closer, releases his balls and, still gripping him with the other, lifts her hand to trail a fingertip up the centerline of his cock where a thicker drip of oil has slipped down from the head, smoothing it back up the shaft then carefully massaging the head with all five fingertips to work it in, like a young wife testing the ripeness of a dark plum at a farmer's stall.

"That's right." Dora encourages softly, "Make sure you get it all."

Gi is struggling to control the reflexive buck of his hips as she toys with the head. He shudders and moans when Laura gives the shaft a few, long, slow strokes as she continues to toy with it. She's looking back and forth from his face to her hands as she teases, clearly curious and enjoying the intensity of his responses.

But courtesy to our guest only extends so far. We have already decided how he'll offer and it won't be just yet.

"Thank you, Laura," the AhnIe says gently after a few more moments, "that should be sufficient."

Laura's hands pause. She turns to look at the AhnIe. Laura wears a soft, flushed, happily dazed expression, mouth slightly open, eyes narrow. She knows what the AhnIe's comment implies; she needs to release her prize. But arousal has dampened her prior reflex to always follow 'the rules'; the tactile and visceral urges make her pause first, before...

"Yes. Alright." She says with a small sigh, then looks back at what's in her hands. She smiles and drops one hand down to take his balls again; a gentle, proprietary, affectionate gesture. "Alright." she repeats as she fondles them and scans her glistening handiwork. She releases him. Turns to look at Dora. Big smile.

"Thank you, m'lady." Gi says and steps back away.

She looks up at him. "My pleasure."

Dora hands her a towel to take the excess oil from her hands. Our Gaelic Ambassadress leans back in her chair once more as she dries them. Clearly pleased and quite flushed, she is, no doubt, feeling a bit warm in those ambassadorial robes right about now.

Chenin gets up off her knees and walks a bit unsteadily back to her usual position behind the AhnIe's chair. As she passes, I note that, despite her experience with men in this situation, her expression is not that different from Laura's.

The interlude to oil the men over, Ariane wastes little time in arranging things into a semblance of the fresco in the ante room.

"Down." she says to Armand, pointing to the carpet.

"Yes, m'lady." he answers and drops quickly. He plants one hand behind him for balance, then settles onto the carpet, stretching out on his back, his feet towards us.

I like the looks of this already; the lines up along his body, thick, muscle creased thighs and the jut of his pectorals above his rib cage; it's like gazing up at him standing over you from below, his size and muscularity amplified, rather than diminished by the perspective.

"Ahnm, yes." Chenin purrs softly from behind.

He lifts his head to look at us, pauses to scan the line of seated women. I catch again a glimpse of that half sardonic cockiness in his expression as he surveys us. He snorts softly, as if amused. Then he opens his legs and rolls his hips under for us.

"That's right." Dora encourages, "You know why you're here."

"Yes, m'lady." he affirms and, lifting his hips, "For your entertainment." he says cheekily, as if gently mocking her presumption by the exaggerated display of his willingness to indulge it.

But I see now how his confidence feeds his compulsion; how the facade of indulging her (us), is for him the psychological key that lets him surrender to the urge and the pleasure of doing 'whatever' for our 'entertainment'.

The goddess brings men and women by many paths to the accomplishment of her designs. Armand and Gi have each arrived here in accord with their separate circumstances, temperaments and lusts. I may prefer the more transparent surrender of men like Gi to the strut and bravado of the Armands of the world. But for all that, both confess the same compulsion to serve our pleasure and win our approval with sexual display, performance and compliance. Just what's wanted in a good temple servant, male or female.

His pose of amused condescension at our desire for 'entertainment', creates an internal tension in him that renders his surrender to his need to satisfy it all the more exciting for him. Even as he pretends to merely act the role, his body confesses the sincerity of his compulsion to fulfill it. He watches Dora as he holds that hips raised position. The imaginary distinction between the voluntary and involuntary doesn't apply to the repeated flexing of his cock under her gaze; his will and need are the same in this.

I approve.

Dora feigns diffidence, but only I think, to further incite him. In this, as in many other spheres of life, the best way to engage certain men's passions, is to let them know they have something still to prove.

And, well, he does. So does Gi for that matter. But the lash that works so well on Armand would detract from the pleasure and performance of a man like Gi.

It is not just men who differ in this way. I am wired differently than Dora. I conceive an almost instant affection and gratitude for men who are open to the goddess in this way. I have, at length, come around to find it expressed in Armand as much as Gi and I feel now somewhat chastened by the memory of my first reactions to him, hoping they did not show forth as unflatteringly to him as they felt to me.

It is easy enough to correct. I like to talk. I want Armand to know some of what's on my mind as I let my gaze roam and rest at will over him. He'd like hearing, I'm sure, that I already anticipate the pleasure of being entertained by the lift and tightening of those 'hefty' balls above the clench of his ass as his urgency mounts and then seeing him buck and spurt his semen up onto that broad chest.

Uhnm, just framing such things in my own head makes my cunt thrum nicely. Imagine, in his state, how 'appreciative' he'd be of knowing he'd inspired a vignette like that. Tell him that, yes; I hope he bucks. I do enjoy that in a prone offering; seeing a young, muscular body convulse in time to the repeated pulses of come, the heave of the hips making the semen shoot still harder and further as he salutes the goddess and us. That whole image may be a bit elaborate just now, but he surely deserves some expression of my favorable impressions.

Ariane is momentarily occupied with Gi, standing close, her hand affectionately toying with his erection as, rising up on her toes, she delivers, between playful kisses, her final stage directions. Now seems like a good time.

"This presentation works well for this one." I say, in a tone of detached appraisal that I know will make the explicitness of what follows all the more potent for him. Ostensibly addressing the other women present, I discuss Armand as the object of aesthetic gratification he aspires to be. I am not being insincere, far from it. He's a fine specimen and if we want men to fulfill these roles, which we surely do, we must reward and encourage such inclinations. To that end, and for my own enjoyment, I opine that;

"The girth of his cock is displayed to good advantage with him on his back this way." I smile to see that 'fat cock' flex excitedly at this favorable mention. But let me provide some context for him. "And I think, spread this way, up at eye level on the stage at the trials," sure, let him picture me picturing that, "if he gets that far," I add with a noncommittal shrug, before letting him know I'm thinking "those hefty balls" I use Ariane's term, pausing to nod in her direction to acknowledge attribution. Like my mention of his cock, the anatomical reference triggers a visceral response from him. He moans softly and his hips curl under reflexively trying to better display 'those hefty balls' which, he will be gratified to know I think, "would be best enjoyed by the wives if displayed prominently this way as he brings himself off rather than having him jerk off standing or kneeling."

Do I really think that? Absolutely. It is, after all, part of my job here to determine whether the wives would, and how they might best, voyeuristically and carnally enjoy the prospects we review. Such reflections are typical of our discussion of them and their performance after the prospects have left. But I'm pleased to see that offering such observations now has had the desired effect on Armand.

"At your service, m'lady!" he growls and lifts his hips to present for me as he did for Dora; his excitement, straining at the bounds of the ritual phrase, renders it a plea as much as a promise.

Already naked, prone, erect and spread on the carpet in front of us, he can't do much more physically to recommend himself. But that very limitation makes his effort all the more poignant and, yes, he would be pleased to know, entertaining.

"We should prop him, just like that." Dora suggests, clearly enjoying his response.

"Sure," Ariane agrees, "if you like."

"Yes, I like them propped." Dora shrugs and smiles. "Cock and balls on Ishea's platter." she laughs, playfully escalating the level of verbal masturbation.

Dora can get a bit competitive with the prospects. My unaccustomed sally might have diverted Armand's attention from where she'd like it. She likes them focused on her and her 'expectations' as evaluator. I don't mind. I've expressed my gratitude and am content to just enjoy the proceedings from here.

"Ishea's platter?" our ambassadress asks, shaking her head and laughing nervously.

"Another technical term for your report." Dora jests affectionately, but then, encouraged by our guest's reaction, looks back down at Armand and "That's what you want too, isn't it?" she asks him rhetorically, dropping the 'just us girls' format.

"Yes, m'lady." he assures her, his gaze shifting from her to Laura then back again, assessing how best to "Please." he adds, that cocky 'whatever' attitude reasserting itself.

Dora sees it too and doubles down.

"Please what?" she asks with a smirk. "I forget now, what was that technical term again?" she jests. "Please can I...?" her voice trails off as she casts a playful, sideways glance in Laura's direction.

A little "oh" from the ambassadress brings his gaze to her again.

Though Dora treats it as a jest, that smirk of hers is also a challenge thrown down. Will Mr. 'whatever' pick up the gauntlet and own that jaunty 'please'?

"Please, m'lady," He begins with a soft snort as if sharing her amusement. But the facade rapidly crumbles under the surge of his arousal as he recites his acceptance of the 'technical terms' of his service, "let me offer my cock and balls on Ishea's platter for you."

Hips still raised, his eyes close and his head drops back on the carpet, a shudder confessing the potency of the 'jest'.

"Ahmm," the ambassadress sighs, "he really wants that." she notes with pleased incredulity.

"Yes, he does." Ariane agrees smiling down as she stands over him. Apparently finished with her instructions to Gi, she lifts her gaze to Laura and suggests. "So, let's have him get to it."

A round of murmured agreement from the rest of us.

"Gi," Ariane says softly to the other male on our menu who stands nearby, "fetch a cushion." she directs.

"Yes, m'lady"

"A thick one." she adds with a chuckle and a teasing glance at Dora.

I enjoy watching Gi's tight ass as he walks away then bends to retrieve a cushion from the carpet. He returns, kneels and slides the cushion under Armand's raised hips.

Laura; Excuse for what?

I'm pretty sure Dora was teasing; there's no way 'cock and balls on Ishea's platter' is a technical term. Right?

Even Armand treats it as a joke, or at least I thought he did, until just now. Now I don't know what to think. Maybe it's stupid to be worrying about that at the moment. But the line between farce and formality, or maybe it's formality as farce... I can't tell anymore.

Dora jokes about it, but I do have to write a report. Even if I didn't, I'd really like to know how much of this is serious; if serious is even the right word. I guess I could physically describe what I'm seeing, hearing; but what exactly am I seeing and hearing?

These women act like it should be obvious where the 'script' (if there really is one) ends and improvisation takes over. But if you had asked me a half hour ago whether saying to some guy, 'present your balls' was a real thing - I mean a 'serious' request in some standard lexicon of possible instructions - I would just have laughed at you. But why is that any more improbable than asking some guy for his cock and balls on a platter and winding up with... well, this?

Maybe it was a joke, but that cushion under his ass isn't. And the way it displays him; his abs and big chest slanting down and back away from his propped-up hips, his legs spread wide; I wonder, even if someone hadn't already said it, if it might not have come to me anyway; this is cock and balls on a platter, or as near as you can get. And this isn't some one-off arrangement either; 'I like them propped.' That's what Dora said; 'them'; like it was some standard option.

So, is it? Is cock and balls on a platter a 'serious thing', like 'present your balls' and all this other 'm'lady' this and that? When she made Armand repeat it, it sure sounded like he hoped it was. At the very least, there's absolutely no way, when he looks up at me from down there, he doesn't know those words are going through my head; he knows there's no way I can look at this and not see it, him, just the way he said it, asked for it.

I don't disapprove. This is an entirely different way of looking at men, of 'seeing' them, than I've ever allowed myself or even thought about really. The freedom to simply let myself enjoy them as aesthetic objects...

Hmm, that sounds so proper, doesn't it? Is that how I should write my report? Or should I be a bit more Nymnian about it and say what I really liked about my aesthetic foray was getting my hands on Gi...

Gi; like I know him now or was thinking about who he was or anything other than that stiff penis with its big glans and how he thrust and shuddered while I played with it, how he moaned when I grabbed his balls and felt them up, getting him all slick and ready but mostly just enjoying the freedom to handle that big penis, squeeze it, pump it, look at it up close, tease it and make it throb and flex in my grip and not caring at all who he was or even really why he just stood there with these other women around watching and let me do it. No. Not any more than I care right now why this guy on the carpet in front of me wants me to enjoy him this way, like I might if he were actually just some fresco in the anteroom. Do I really care why? All I need to know is; 'He really wants that.' And 'Yes, he does.'

I'm all for it. He looks good that way, whoever he is and why ever he wants it. I can try to parse my personal reactions out later, decide what I really think of all this when I'm not so swamped with the novelty of my own reactions.

But what I think or feel about this is NOT going into my report. These women may pooh-pooh the idea of objectivity, but what matters for understanding these people and their ways is what they themselves think and feel about this. How they draw the cultural lines they draw so that 'present your balls' could ever become a serious thing in the first place. Why is any of this stuff more than just an excuse for... well, what would it even be an excuse for? What if it's not an excuse for anything?

Maybe it's just a way to get exactly this.

Ariane is standing over Armand, facing us. She steps forward, placing one foot on either side of his head.

His head drops back to look up between her legs. It goes through him so nicely; chest, stomach, hips, a wave of excitement that crests in his loins, his cock popping up and his balls lifting above the clench of his ass. Male, so male; all muscle and lust. He wants that, wants her cunt. Ahmn, yes, cunt; no other word for it, watching his body beg for it like this.

Yeah. Especially if you're Ariane, why do you need a better excuse than this?

He knows already what the script is, what he needs to do to give me my fresco. I look from his hand resting at his side on the carpet to that fat cock, propped and oiled and ready to give me what I asked for. Or maybe he'll use the other one. Either way, it's an odd feeling knowing he knows this is all, more or less, at my request; the woman from away who likes the anteroom fresco, wants to see it re-enacted in the flesh.

I feel distracted by the level of stage management here; it seems incompatible with 'spontaneous' sexual pleasure. And yet, for all the 'yes, m'lady' and 'no m'lady' formalities, the jesting and teasing, the quasi-technical terminology and casual lasciviousness, there's no disguising the brute hunger that lifts his huge arms, his chest spreading beneath her, those big hands gripping the outside of Ariane's thighs just above her knees.

He could pull her down just by flinching. She'd collapse like a slender reed in a gale if he used the merest fraction of the taut power in those arms to take what he wants. But he doesn't. He rests his hands on her thighs, his fingers denting the soft flesh with his restrained need and...

Standing over him, looking down, she smiles and rocks her pelvis slowly back and forth.

"Please, m'lady." his voice hoarse, the gentlest tug by those big hands on her legs, urging her, asking.

Her smile broadens.

"What?" she teases then brings her hands in, her fingers pressing into the soft flesh, lifting and spreading the outer lips to show him, us, the pink petals inside. "This?" she teases.

Ahmn, yes. This is so... Spread it, show him. That's what he wants, what they all want; more than money, more than power, more than god; they want cunt. Wish it were mine. But he can't have it until she gives it to him. Yes, I do wish that. I want that; over a man that way; spread my cunt, show him what he wants, make him plead, smile down at him looking up between my legs and...

Gods! He pleads so nicely. Starts thrusting like he's fucking. Saying,

"Yes. Please, m'lady! I am at your service."

And ours. He knows that. Hasn't forgotten we're here, here to be entertained by his thrusting and pleading. Doing it for us. Yes, he wants to show us how bad he wants it; all part of the sport for us, the excitement for him, but he does want it, and knowing it's a show for us drives him to want it even more desperately. I can feel that dynamic, even if I can't explain it.

She laughs softly, pleased, glances down along his body to the excited thrusting of his hips, watches a moment, then looks aside and,

"Over here to start." she says to Gi, motioning with a nod of her head to a spot beside her.

Yes. That other young man, that other cock, swaying as he approaches at her summons; a visceral almost tactile flash-back of that in my grip, the heat and scent of him, his balls in my palm and that flushed head up close and... Yes, don't forget about him. He wants his chance, wants to be written up in my report.

He steps up beside her, hands at his sides, that lovely upturned arc of his erection in profile.

What is this like for him?

Gi has been watching this other man thrust and plead. What does he make of that? For us it's all just part of the fresco. But for him, standing beside her, looking down with us at this other male; is Gi ready to be as entertaining as that? Is he happy with his part? He stands there, his erection pulsing softly, awaiting direction. I like that too; like a soldier at his post, purple tipped lance at the ready.

I think she pauses there just for that; part of the show; letting them both demonstrate again their 'at your service' credentials. Or maybe not. She gazes up at Gi's face with an oddly wistful expression, says something to him softly that makes his eyes narrow and the corners of his mouth twitch into a brief smile.

She nods.

He nods.

I am suddenly reminded of the (then) unlikely couple who came from the AhnIe's chamber just before I was ushered in. That same look between them.

Gi nods. And with that wistful smile still on her lips, Ariane at last gives in to the gentle pressure of Armand's hands, drops down, her knees opening to give him what she wants.

Just lovely; the way he lifts his head to get at her, to see the give of her mound as his tongue and chin press up against it, the eager clasp of his two huge hands on her ass as he pulls her down hard, forcing her knees to spread still further apart on the carpet.

Ahnm, that... that's how to do it. Lapping at her softness, the muscles in his jaw and neck and chest flexing as he works. Gods, men do that, want that, just this way, like the fresco, like that pair of figures on the temple frieze. Not just artistic license, at least not in Nymnia.

She reaches to grip the shaft of Gi's penis in front of her as if for balance, places her other hand on Armand's huge chest, her stomach and chest fluttering in pleasure as he drives his tongue hungrily up and down the length of her slit, the pink of his tongue appearing and disappearing from sight as he works it back and forth.

There, he pauses, his chin juts upwards, her hips raise slightly like he's lifting her on... ahnmmm, her expression, his tongue up inside of her, deep and hard, I know it. She expels little breaths, "Hunh! Hunh! Hunh!" as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts his tongue up into that cunt he begged her for.

Oh yes, fuck! At your service.

Praise Ishea!

Cedera; Remind me

Ahmn, yes, Ariane is so beautiful that way, giving it to him, taking her pleasure. Watching Armand work, seeing Ariane's shudders and the lost, almost desperate look in her expression, I can't help but recall the other times I've enjoyed either watching or using temple servants this way with my husband.

It has been a few years now since either of us have had the motivation or time to get ourselves to the temple for more than the Euios and the obligatory yearly visit. Age, children, the press of farming and daily life, all contribute to the neglect of our sexual life; days are busy and exhausting.

But praise Ishea for the 'obligations' she imposes. Because every time we do come to the temple, we say to one another "why don't we do this every day?". That, of course, would be impractical. But for days afterwards we make love so beautifully and desperately in our small bed back at home, remembering and seeing one another with fresh eyes and appetites that overcome the worries and exhaustion of the day and drive him to my arms and body with the hunger of our first days together.

This scene recalls to mind our last visit and the pleasure we took in the service of a particular young man. An image of him in just this position with one of the female servants astride him, flits pleasurably through my mind as I watch Armand beneath Ariane. Although we would make use of them more thoroughly later, my husband and I both enjoy a round of voyeurism with gentle, teasing mutual masturbation as foreplay. The pleasures of watching and teasing each other thus, can sometimes be quite extended depending on our mood and the quality of the performance being offered. For me, in terms of provoking vicarious empathic pleasure, a lean, young, erect, prone, male in 69 eagerly lapping a woman straddling his face, is as potent as it gets. Lounging with my husband, propped on pillows against the headboard, toying with his cock, his fingertip gently swirling the slickening wet up from between the inner lips of my cunt to curl over my clit, watching the thrust and buck of that young male's hips, the sweet strain in his inner thighs as he spread in display in his mounting excitement, his cock flexing in pretty spasms of ejaculatory anticipation as the woman above him shuddered in pleasure and release; almost sweeter than the fucking that followed.

Ariane rocks her hips slowly back and forth over his face. She seems so small above him. He grips her hips with both hands, his raised arms expanding his chest to the full, the mounds of his pects falling away on either side to the thick outward curve of the broad latissimus, like muscled wings, accentuating the converging lines from shoulders to waist, his narrow hips thrusting.

"This one, so eager addressing the goddess." I remark approvingly as I watch the rapid flicking of his tongue tip over the pretty bud of Ariane's clit. The comment sets him moaning into her cunt, his hips lifting as his thick cock throbs and flushes in an extended spasm that pulses a burble of clear pre-come from the slit. "And pleads so sweetly for her mercy." I purr for the pleasure of triggering him again, hearing that grateful moan and watching the heavy balls jounce as he bucks reflexively.

Ariane clings to Gi, holding his erection in one hand, his thigh with the other. Gi's hips thrust gently. She leans in, letting him slide his cock along her cheek and face, her eyes closed, too engaged in the surge and ripple of pleasure spreading from her cunt to do more with him. But Gi serves her pleasure perfectly just like that.

The secret to enjoying more than one man at a time is to limit your focus at any particular moment to only those aspects that compliment your immediate pleasure. The attempt to do more will make you frantic, turn you into a sexual acrobat doing a routine rather than a child of the goddess luxuriating in her bounty. I learned that in my nymphomaniac phase as a new Nymnian wife. Men by the handful, the dozen, their cocks presented on all sides, pushing, competing for my hands, my mouth, my cunt; responding as men will, to my insistence that I wanted them all; and I did, but it was anxiety as much as pleasure that spurred me.

For Ariane, a woman well skilled in the Nymnian art of taking her pleasure in and pleasuring multiple men, Gi's cock against her cheek, it's stiffness in her grip, is not a distraction, but a pleasing compliment to the work of Armand between her legs; a tactile reminder of yet another man's lust for her. She rubs her face against it, glancing down now and again at that other cock that flexes eagerly between Armand's spread legs. In this arrangement, the sight of one cock and the feel of another, the males' low moans, add spice to the main dish of her pleasure served up by Armand and his lashing tongue.

"Ah, that's nice," Dora growls at the reflexive buck of Armand's hips, "make those big balls jump for us. Entertain me."

I do love seeing them buck. I want him to buck when he comes. But just now "Yes." I laugh softly in agreement with Dora, "Show them off. I know you want to." I taunt him happily as he bucks and bucks again, moaning up into Arianne's cunt as he makes his balls jump and jump, so eager to please, so helplessly excited to have those balls the object of female comment and attention.

Laura;

He jerks so prettily; Gi's young body jolted by that playful flick of Ariane's tongue; the pelvis jerking up, freezing in place, the buttocks clenched so quick, so hard, his whole frame clamped in a sudden spasm of taut muscle as the penis flexes up and back away from that triggering flick of Ariane's tongue, throbs in place as the seizure locks him... 'prettily'; can't put that in a Report, or the little jolt and seethe it sets off between my clamping thighs each time; not 'reportable'. It's just a, uhnn, so nice to watch, the shudder and gasp when it releases him, the helpless, almost mechanical, compulsive resumption of those pleading thrusts; Gi's cock slipping and brushing across the softness of Ariane's cheek, forehead, chin and lips, his hips moving in small pulses seeking the pleasure of friction, to offer it to her, plead for her take it, use it, use him.

Uhnmm, there, there; fuck the Report; he jerks so pretty. Do it again. Make him... uhnm, that quick, playful flick of her tongue just under the head as he thrusts it past her lips, his young body jerking reflexively in place, jolted as the penis spasms in her grip. He wants it so badly; her mouth, her tongue. His penis so sensitive having been on display and teased and toyed with so long.

Toyed with, yes; a sweet surge of pride with the clitoral pulse as I rock gently and squeeze my thighs together; the ambassadress helped with that; toyed with that young cock, oiled up those young balls that now cling so pert and tight to the root in this nice profile presentation; did her part to bring him to this overwrought, very entertaining state of hyper arousal; is still doing her part; prodding him with her neophyte, ambassadorial voyeurism to put on a good show; it's what he wants as much as she does; taking my visual virginity, excited to know I will masturbate to the memory of this later, over and over as I am happily compelled to reimagine it again and again in order to get the words and descriptions just right, make them properly clinical and anthropologically relevant, stripped of all this throbbing pleasure as I rock gently back and forth in mirroring patterns with the seizure and release of his body. Yes, there, there, good boy, make it a good show for the ambassadress.

As if overhearing my thoughts, he turns his head towards me, mouth half open, gaze vacant yet registering my attention, watching me as my gaze drops from his to claim his erect, thrusting penis for the ambassadress; letting him know, see, feel that I fully accept now my place as evaluator of his sexual performance, as one he must please to reflect well on Nymnian ways in foreign courts. And just as I lift my gaze back to his to affirm my entitlement, another flick of that playful tongue makes him jerk and clench, his face grimaced in startled pleading, his mouth creasing into a silent 'Yes'.

There is no way to convey this objectively in some 'Report'; it is not a mere mechanical spasming; it is a confession that anatomical description cannot capture; an iconography in flesh that can only be deciphered by the pulse of heat and clitoral frisson that clenches me each time.

I want this to slow down. I want it frozen like that fresco in the anteroom. Because there is something here that the passing gives only a glimpse of; that silent 'Yes' as he sees me see him, see something in and yet beyond the aesthetic and entertainment value of that perfect, pretty, helpless jerk and freeze of his body; how all he is, not just the body, clenches and shudders for that little playful flick of her tongue under the tip of his hypersensitive penis. That 'Yes'; the confession of some truth he can only capture for himself by showing me, having me see it, see him, as this.

This...

But just as I almost have it; have some connection between my own arousal and something true in that silent 'Yes'...

"Ah, that's nice, make those big balls jump for us. Entertain me." Dora growls and it is all absurd again. The frozen moment jounced away in the comical lewdness of the buck and buck of this other, huge, prone male making his big balls jump and jump because,

"Yes." Cedera is laughing, "show them off. I know you want to."

I'm laughing too. Yes, show them off. Absurd is the wrong word. Because the way the balls jump up and drop, bulging out against the scrotum below the fat erect penis; the way they ride up the shaft on the upswing and spread apart, hang for a moment at the top of the arc so the bulge of the thick root of his cock plunging to his anus is displayed before being obscured again as they fall back; it does show them off so well, give an almost tactile sense of their heft, even more than when Ariane hoisted them in her palm. And, of course, the contrast between the rigidity of the cock and the loose swing and flop of the balls accentuates the vulnerability of need beneath the aggressive insistence of the erection. His eagerness to do it, to be seen this way, is another 'Yes' but to a different truth of it; an intentional evasion of any meaning or purpose beyond our amusement and his need. Yes, show off your balls. We know you want to.

Ariane rolls her pelvis forward and back over Armand's lifted chin and mouth, her body freezing momentarily, alternately pinioned by that probing tongue on clit, cunt or anus, before releasing again; the thrum of empathic pleasure between my crossed legs as I catch a glimpse of pink on pink as her hips roll under and forward, the slash of tongue back through the crimson slit then the pulse in my perineum as she settles, his lifted chin pressing up against the soft curves to

"Tongue fuck that pretty ass." Lutressa snarls happily as his pectorals flex, his strong hands pulling Ariane down, freezing her in place to drive his tongue into her anus. "Show them what you're good for."

A long low, softly exhaled "uhhhhnnnnn" escapes Ariane's parted lips, her head thrown back, eyes hooded, her breasts lifted and jutted forward. And then she is mewing and grinding back and forth over him. Gods yes, she's going to come, that's going to make her... me...

It does.

Dora;

It is sweet, but also pitiable, how Laura tries to disguise and dissimulate her pleasure; the gentle masturbatory rocking in rhythm with Ariane's pelvic rolling, the sharp little intakes of air as Gi clenches when the head of his cock is teased by Ariane's flicking tongue, and then that final, suppressed shudder as she brings herself off with Ariane. But as Ariane moans, grinds, bucks and gushes over Armand's face in ecstatic release, the ambassadress clamps down on that shudder, suppresses her gasps, barely a soft moan, tries to still her body rather than follow through and ride the pretty wave of Ishea's grace over the arc. She shifts, uncrosses her legs and tries to simulate some vague attentiveness, as if she were surprised by some technical detail of the performance rather than spasming in empathic pleasure.

I want to scold her for squandering the goddess' gifts, but it would only make her yet more reticent and embarrassed, as if she had been 'caught' committing some unseemly faux pas.

I take a different kind of pleasure in the role of evaluator; a mounting but deferred ache for physical release that feeds off the imbalanced power dynamic of using these lovely young males, directing them at my whim, seeing them gasp, buck, plead and spurt; their most intimate pleasures and lusts surrendered and confessed as mere amusing baubles for my entertainment. For me, there is no aphrodisiac more potent than that disparity between their desperation and my goddess-like condescension to it. For me, indulging in physical stimulation, masturbatory or otherwise at these times, lessens that gap between their desperation and my serene, amused, observation and appraisal and so would dampen the pleasure of entitled voyeurism and domination.

Many wives share this taste, enjoying as I do, the submission of the male sexual impulse to feminine whims for entertainment and titillation; cultivating this as a pleasure in itself, complimentary to but separate from the more carnal enjoyments it often inspires. But a wife is free to use and enjoy these males and their performance in whatever way she wishes. That is the entire point of their service. Using males like Gi and Armand as masturbatory props for individual pleasure or as visual stimulation to compliment the sexual enjoyment of other males, is one of the entitlements of Nymnian womanhood. I want to tell her these things because it pains me to see the goddess' gifts squandered.

But it is too late to save that squandered pleasure and she is becoming a distraction to my own enjoyment. In terms of male desperation displayed for my entertainment, these two are splendid samples thus far.

Armand laps with a broad tongue in long sweeps from Ariane's clit to anus, savoring the sweet gush of her cunt as she trembles and tenses above him in the fading throbs of orgasm. With a final shuddered exhale, she collapses onto him, her arms extended forward to drape over his spread thighs, her cheek coming to rest on his hip, her head turned in, her nose nestled at the base of his cock. His thrusting slows under her, compliantly welcoming her weight and her need for respite. Excited by her nearness, he strains to spread his legs further, his cock pleads, flushing dark and lifting in an extended throb from his stomach as he curls his pelvis under to lift and offer his balls for her attention.

Well, he has mine at least, I chuckle, even if Ariane is a bit preoccupied regaining her breath at the moment. He's making good his vow, showing me he wants to be just what I said I want of him; the presentation even more blatant framed this way by Ariane's pretty face and her extended arms stretched across his thighs; her body covering his so he's visually nothing but those muscular thighs straining to spread, the clenched ass and yes, just what I asked for; cock and balls offered up for the sport of all good Nymnian wives.

He should know I approve; be reminded of my role and his continued subjection to my appraisal.

"Gods, he is hung splendidly." I comment appreciatively, turn briefly towards the AhnIe. "If he puts out proportionally with those balls, Ishea will have enough pearl for more than a necklace."

He hears, of course, as I intend he should. I laugh with AhnIe at his muffled moan, the reminder tweaking those lifted balls as deftly as he hopes Ariane's tongue will.

"It seems we'll see soon enough." AhnIe nods, "But yes," an amused smile, joining the proprietary banter, "the proportions are promising."

"You two." Cedera shaking her head, laughing softly as well.

I turn back; Ariane still breathing a bit shakily, but her eyes are open and she's beginning to nuzzle her nose and mouth against the base of Armand's cock. There, a first quick flick of her tongue along the side of one of his balls. His body jerks at the contact, lifting, trying to spread his legs further, disturbing her repose. She lifts her head, amused, brings her hands back to grip and press the inside of his thighs, straightening her arms to lift her body, pressing down, laughing as she seconds his futile efforts to spread wider, "Oh, is that all?" she taunts softly. "Come on, spread for the goddess."

"Yes, m'lady, yes." he moans and that thick cock of his lifts up again and pulses in a sustained spasm.

"Uhnm, yes." a soft moan from Gi standing over them where she left him as he watches her lean down and that slender tongue that so recently toyed with his, snake out and begin to lazily toy with the head of this other cock. "Uhnm, please, yes." Gi's penis flexing in sympathetic, vicarious pleasure, bobbing as he stands, compliantly awaiting further direction.

Gi's serving his purpose. He's nicely ornamental that way in profile; the upward arc of his cock and the plump bobbing head. His erectile persistence without the need to touch himself is charming, though the balls are drawn up a little too tight for my taste; I like to see more of the curve and hang of them, have them retain a bit more motility and jounce through ejaculation, the effect lending an air of levity to their desperate spurting. But, on the other hand, on Gi, the tauter balls enhance his boyish cuteness, and the cock would be more than adequate as one in a line of ushers awaiting to greet the maid with their semen at the Euios.

Uhmmm, he does bob prettily; strong, sharp throbs. He should give us a good, lively dance. That too is a plus in an usher, and for other decorative or ceremonial roles. Ariane says he dances well.

He'd better.

Laura

This can't... annnh, let it go, let it go, shift to the other side, shit! slow breath, slow breath. I didn't realize it until... slow breath, lean forward, shift the pressure. Stop with the... fuck, he's still after her, covered with her, dripping down the side of his chin, lapping her up and she can't... she drops a hand behind her to push him away but he wants it, more of her, that fat penis popping up off his belly slinging pre-come, shiny strands, and she's, she can't breathe, get air, slow breath, I need to... lapping at her.

Don't be a ditz, look interested, it's all just... interesting. Shit, they noticed. AhnIe said they were supposed to have that effect, make me want it. But not that way, with them all just sitting here and I'm... so much for objective observation.

But calmer now, it's passing. But what do they expect with him doing that, seeing him just take it, take her that way. I didn't realize until it caught me, but gods, the way she made him, pushed it against his mouth, used his face like he was just some... but oh, he wanted it, his tongue in her, flicking and lashing until she... and I just... How can these women just sit there, watching that and not...?

Mortifying; of course they noticed; the yokel from away, the tourist who takes notes, squirming and shuddering like a school girl and they're just... this is absurd to just be sitting here watching this as if it were... but fine, it happened and I'm the one who's... look interested Laura. But how could they not have noticed?

Ariane falls forward but it's still taking her. Gi stumbles a bit as she falls away from him. His penis forced down as her hand trails off of it. It springs back and wags up and down comically a few times before it settles into a less exaggerated throbbing. It's absurd, or maybe I'm just still trying to catch my breath so it comes out as a laugh; but really, the way he's left just standing there in front of us, like an extra piece of furniture, the extra male, hnm, the extra penis, the flushed head bobbing, unable to hide his excitement or shut it off, but not allowed to do anything about it except stand there moaning, his penis bobbing like some silly puppet he isn't in control of. I laugh because... not funny exactly; but he's just so hyper strung and earnest. He has no perspective on himself, on how it looks, what it says about him to let us see him this way.

Maybe this was not the place for it. But that orgasmic tremor has taken a bit of the edge off my arousal, or maybe just laced it with enough mortification to clear my head so I can see this for what...

What it is; Ariane looks so small, her face down there now close to... ahnnnn, he wants her to have that, lifts and moans and spreads wider, lifts like she weighs nothing, the fat cock, yes that's cock, thick cock throbbing up again off his stomach right there in front of her face.

"Gods, he is hung splendidly." Dora says. "If he puts out proportionally with those balls, Ishea will have enough pearl for more than a necklace."

'Proportionally'; listen to her; as if this were some semi-academic discussion of...

Armand groans; a long, low rumble, muffled by her still being over his face, he groans and it vibrates between my legs like I'm the one whose vagina he's moaning into. He groans and his pelvis curls under to lift 'those balls' higher and the women are laughing and, okay, it is funny how he hears 'balls' and then he's... well, look at him; there's balls if you want 'em. He hopes we do, or at least Ariane does.

"It seems we'll see soon enough." AhnIe answers. "But yes, the proportions are promising."

"You two." Cedera is laughing now too.

They are enjoying this; knowing the men are listening as they banter among themselves, and so maybe they didn't notice or...

Hoooh, there, Ariane's eyes open now, that little flick of her tongue along the side of one his balls. It jerks him like a bee stung his ass, lifting now, trying to spread wider. Her slender arms draped forward lazily over his splayed thighs, She laughs and lifts her head, shifts her body back slightly, her hands drawing in to grip and press the inside of his thighs, pulling back, pressing down, her arms straightening as she rises over him and uses her weight to spread him more. She's looking down with that smile and "Oh, is that all?" she asks. "Come on, spread for the goddess."

It's a tease, gentle but mocking; it's obvious he's already at his limit. But even this tourist who takes notes can read the dynamic; the way she looks down with that proprietary smile as the penis throbs up again and he moans "Yes, m'lady, yes.", his muffled voice tight with strain; she's asserting her will, insisting he exert himself to comply fully with her demands for... the phrase comes back to me; still absurd, but all the more potent for that; the way she's smiling down at it, amused but also insistent, as he moans and strains, her fingernails biting into the inside of his spread thighs to assert her entitlement to it. It's a bad metaphor, a lewd joke; 'demeaning', the tourist who takes notes would be quick to point out; but the absurdity is a freedom, for him as well as her; and for me too, seeing it this time for what it is, what the words make it; there it is; cock and balls on Ishea's platter.

Admit it; Laura likes it that way; no pretense that it's meant to be anything else. Even if I describe this in appropriately clinical terms;

Ahem!, 'Although already fully spread and his propped genitals blatantly displayed, the prone male responded to the handling female's implied dissatisfaction with his performance ('Is that all? Come on, spread for the goddess') ; Elanor will like that, and this next, even better; 'and her manual pressure and insistence, her fingernails digging in to the flesh of his inner thighs as she pressed to spread his legs further,' ; now, how to describe the combination of futility, desperation and frantic sexual excitement as he responds to these taunts 'by exerting himself in a futile but strenuous effort to spread further, lift and present the penis and testicles more fully, the hips rising and the buttocks clenching, the whole body taut and frozen in supreme effort as the erect penis spasmed repeatedly; the vigor of his exertion made only more poignant by its futility and redundancy, the additional spasming of the penis the only visually significant change for all his efforts.'

And as for that spasming penis; Ariane leans down, her slender tongue swiping playfully, curling up under the ridge of the uplifted head of his cock.

"Uhnm, yes." a moan, but not from Armand. Gi is looking down, his hips thrusting reflexively as he watches Ariane continue to tongue toy with Armand, his own penis flexing and bobbing as if each time she... "Uhnm, please, yes."

Gods, he's so... just standing there letting us all see what it does to him, watching another man's penis dance under his lover's tongue. His lover? No; well maybe; but his Guide at least; the affection between them so obvious, there must be some twinge at least of jealousy seeing her.... But whatever; this is nice, now that I'm a little less wound. I like having two men, okay, penises, cocks, spasming this way in time, like maybe they really are just one thing, the expression of one urge; that Ulim idea, pushing up through two erections; so nicely different, their bodies and cocks. But look at them, twitching and moaning together, that slender snaking tongue teasing one cock with the other. Yes, twitching and moaning together.

The details here are not irrelevant to the point; I must include a full description and contrast between the two males; their builds, penises and the shape and hang of their balls; alternately using their names and the generic male/males in the narrative to capture that sense of their individuality but common submission to...

"There now." Ariane says softly, straightens back up to sit firmly over his face again. She reaches to grip one of Armand's wrists where his lifted hands still grip her hips, pulls it away then leans forward again to guide his hand down to, "Time for you two to work together." she purrs, looking aside and up at Gi as Armand's hand curls compliantly around his cock, "keeping time for the goddess," she laughs softly and begins to guide Armand's hand up and down to set the pace she wants, "yes, there it is." Releases his hand to let him continue stroking on his own, "give Gi the pace, watch each other work. I want to see it and feel it at the same time."

"Yes, m'lady." Two male voices in unison.

She straightens up again over Armand's face, looks up at Gi, lifts a hand up between his legs and runs a gentle fingertip from his anus up between his balls and along the underside of his erection, catching a strand of precome on her fingertips as the head bobs up away from her touch.

"Now give me this cock, sweet boy, one last time. Show Armand how I take it. Give him something to jerk off to."

Cedera;

It is a beautiful thing how Ariane conjures every aspect of eroticism; visual, audible, tactile, scent, narrative, staging; to heighten their excitement to serve her own pleasure and ours together. For yes, we do this together; each of us a channel for some perspective and aspect of paradise that was scattered by the fall from the fullness of bliss into the myriad of individuality. The way Ariane plays with and off of us as audience, her staging of and narrative cues to the males; it all accentuates their sense of exposure to our voyeuristic appraisal, feeds their exhibitionist excitement and pleasure and so makes their performance more entertaining and arousing.

She toys with Armand's thick cock with playful flicks of her tongue, makes it bob and surge for us as Gi stands over her moaning "Uhnmm, please, yes." as his own cock bobs prettily in empathetic pleasure.

"There now." she straightens back up over Armand. It's endearing how that thick penis flails in fresh excitement as she settles back over his face. Hungry for more of her, his chin juts up to taste her again. She jumps slightly as his tongue cleaves her slit once more. But she lifts away, drawing her knees closer together and takes one of his wrists where he grips her hips. She guides his hand down to that eagerly flexing cock.

"Time for you two to work together." she purrs as Armand's hand curls compliantly around the thick shaft, "keeping time for the goddess," she laughs and guides his hand up and down the shaft to set the pace she wants, "yes, there it is." she says approvingly as he complies with her pacing, continues to stroke on his own. "Give Gi the pace, watch each other work. I want to see it and feel it at the same time."

"Yes, m'lady." Both males moan in unison.

She straightens up again and turns to Gi. There is a familiar gentleness in her smile as she looks up at his face, a moment of recognition between them; Guide and prospect, a final intimacy before parting. Then her gaze drops to his young cock bobbing in front of her and her expression shifts to one of mercenary gratification.

Her gaze triggers the reflexive male response; the upward curl of his pelvis; so evocative in profile of the iconic image; the male pleading for feminine appraisal and approval; his tight drawn balls lifted and thrust forward, clinging to the root, like garden bulbs sending up the flushed stem of the cock, its purpled mushroom cap swaying on the pulsing shaft before a smiling woman's face. I feel again that rush of arousal and contentment; sensing the continuity of this moment with the long series of its multiple reenactments by countless males and countless smiling wives from the first AhnIe who gathered the pearls to those yet unborn who will follow after this.

She casts a sideways glance in our direction; pauses, her lips pursed in proprietary satisfaction. Reveling in her role as presenter of such quality stock, she plays to her audience, his evaluators. She guides his attention with hers, lest he forget, in his excited focus on her, his status as the object of our shared appraisal and entertainment. Gi's eyes follow hers; a small jolt of recognition jerks him as he sees himself afresh in our eyes.

Part of the pleasure she takes in these two is her exercise of theatric mastery over their sexual impulses; making best use of their esthetic erotic qualities to offer them up and make them perform at their best not just for her but for our shared enjoyment. That sideways glance and pause is manipulative nectar; triggering his exhibitionist mental frenulum. Reminded of his audience, Gi presents himself to her, and now quite consciously for us, so compliantly patient and endearingly, throbbingly excited; his young body wound and clenching taut with pent sexual tension. It is a vignette to linger over and share for a moment.

Ariane raises a hand up between his legs. An extended fingertip lifts to press his anus. So sweet; his small shudder and that curl of amusement in the corner of her smile as she hoists him on that fingertip a moment, letting the lovely young penis plead in a long, stiffening spasm. Then a slow, illustrative trailing of that fingertip; as one would gently sweep the contours of a fine vase or decorative piece to accentuate it's contours for an admiring guest, inviting the eye to follow; the motion invoking a sympathetic mirroring of sensation in my own hand, as that fingertip trails upward along the thick root between those tight, lifted balls, it's passage drawing attention to their separation and plumpness as they cling to the shaft on either side, then the teasingly slow trail up the arc of the shaft as his hypersensitive penis bobs and dances away from each contact like a cat on a hot roof, until that last flick of her fingertip under the head to draw away a thick strand of his pre-come to glisten prettily with his confession of seminal need.

It is a perfect invitation to share and consider; so that when she says, "Now give me this cock, sweet boy, one last time. Show Armand how I take it. Give him something to jerk off to." my cunt pulses with anticipatory pleasure as if that were about to press up inside of me as well.

"Ahhnnnnnnhhn" a long low moan from Armand at her words, his stroking paused, hips raised up off his propping cushion, hand driven hard to the base of his cock to display it.

"Sweet goddess, that's so..." Chenin's voice soft from her place behind the AhnIe's chair.

Yes, it is.

Gi, released at last from his mostly decorative role, quickly steps behind Ariane and drops to his knees.

A moment of adjustment as Ariane rises slightly higher to grant him access, leans forward, a hand placed on Armand's chest, her other hand reaching down and back between her legs to help guide Gi's cock.

A shudder in her breathing; "Yes, show Armand how I take your cock."

The male's voices overlapping as they moan, one watching, the other feeling, the slow slide of that fine young cock forward and up into her cunt. As Gi's hips come forward, Ariane straightens back up to lean back against him, changing the angle of penetration so that Gi's knees splay further apart, his hips dropping lower over Armand's face to thrust upward for full insertion. She leans slightly to one side, reaches up and back to grip his head and pull it forward so he's looking around her shoulder as he starts to thrust against her.

"Together, both of you, watch each other, uhnmmmm, do it uhnnmmmm," she instructs as Armand begins to stroke again, the males compliantly adjusting their pace so their thrusting and stroking are in synch. "Yes, together."

She looks out at us, her expression slack, but her eyes narrowing in a half blink of pleasure with each of Gi's thrusts. She meets my gaze, a faint smile as she reads my arousal and voyeuristic greed for her, for this.

"Yes, here." She says softly, and now leans back still further against Gi, changing the angle of her pelvis again to offer a better view of her cunt, making Gi drop still lower so his balls are now visible jogging just above Armand's forehead as he thrusts up into her.              

Having staged many males before, Ariane knows the picture she's giving her audience. But Gi may not, or, even if he does, his susceptibility to verbal masturbation and to the attentions of one audience member in particular, are too tempting to leave unteased. Yes, Ariane teases him, but it is also a gift and a reward to remind him of his role in diplomacy.

"That's it, uhnm, show the ambassadress how you uhn, fuck. Laura uhnmmm, needs to see for her report. Uhnnnmm, sweet boy."

The effect upon him is so predictably lovely. He's keeping pace with Armand, fucking those 'uhnnmms' out of Ariane with a jolting delivery, as if each thrust is a spasm triggered by the downward stroke of Armand's hand. He's looking around her shoulder, focused on Laura now, his knees splaying wider and his pelvis curling upward to

"Tip back so she, uhnmmm, uhnmmm, can see your c uhnmmm fuck me."

I knew she would be lovely to watch and that her presentation of these two would serve our evaluative purposes well. But this goes far beyond those expectations. She perfectly melds her own pleasures with the full demonstration of these two males' aptitudes for service. She extracts the full range of sexual pleasure from them for herself; watching Armand stroke for her as his tongue begins to lash her clit again, sweeping back along the shaft of Gi's cock and over his balls when he thrusts forward; Gi fucking her, his hands kneading her breasts as he heaves against her. She's commanding a display of their restraint; making them comply with her pacing and stage directions, even as she teases their arousal to the point of distraction.

She's prodding their competitive and empathetic responses by directing them to watch one another, to thrust and stroke synchronously. She knows how this works to create a shared sensory elision in the two males between the visual and tactile; making every thrust of Gi's cock, drive that hand down Armand's, and every stroke of that hand on Armand's cock, sluice Ariane's cunt around Gi's. She's making Armand fuck her by jerking off, and Gi jerk off by fucking her.

Laura

"That's it, uhnm, show the ambassadress how you uhnmmm, fuck. Laura needs to uhn see for her report. Uhnnnmm, sweet boy."

At the sound of my name, his eyes lift from Armand's stroking hand to me. I feel his focus almost as a touch between us, a small jolt that makes me clamp my thighs tight again as I watch it jerk his hips upward, his lips twitching, saying nothing.              

"Tip up so she, uhnmmm, uhnmmm, can see your cocuhknmmm fuck me."

Exerpt;

The male strained to comply with her stage directions; curling the pelvis under to display as requested, thrusting upward from below as she leans back still further against him. Ariane seemed almost to be taunting his need for coitus by making him perform in this seemingly (to this observer) awkward position. But it did serve to make the penis and testicles of the fornicating male more readily visible to the audience as he thrusted and withdrew and this, despite the apparent awkwardness, seemed only to increase his excitement.

Ah, yes, good boy, you want to show the ambassadress. Yes, you do; watching me watch; look how hard you work for it. And, uhnm, gods; I thought at first it was just inciden..., but no, there again, that slash of Armand's tongue jostling those young balls as you thrust them up tight against her, that's...

I should write it up that way; 'young balls', 'young cock'; both of them; Armand's 'hefty' ones jouncing as he strokes that thick 'young cock' for these women who, maybe not Chenin and Lutressa, but surely the others, old enough to be his (both of their) mothers.

It's not like that's beside the point here; these women only want the young ones for this; too young to marry. And it's not just by chance that both of these are hung so nice; it's not just these two I bet; that other one earlier in the ante-room; I'm sure they sized him up too; the wives have their pick of them; and the other one, just like these I'm sure; so ready and stiff with that barely post teen excitability and...

Oohhhhnm, there again; thrust and lap; why is that so nice? It's not like it's, uhnm, but the way Gi looks at me, watching me watch, like he wants to make sure, yes, you want to make sure I see your young cock slide up and in and those tight young balls jostled by that lashing tongue, you need to show me so I can write this all up in my... uhnm,

I'm doing it again, pressing my cunt between my legs, wasn't even thinking, but uhnm, the words in my head keep dressing the view, need to write it that way; young cocks, tight young balls; Armand's not so tight, too heftily slung for that, jogging as he strokes. He looks good doing that, stroking his fat young cock for my fresco, the head so dark, red-purple, shiny with smeared pre-come and uhnm, yes, good boy, lap those tight young balls of that other 'male'; why is that so... would they all do that, do one another? Gi so excited to have me see that, to show me.

Uhnmmm, ease off the pressure, Laura. But it's so hard to just sit here, and feels so good, so right, watching this, to squeeze; they're supposed to have this effect; so young and helplessly aroused, wanting it so badly. But how do I ever catch this in a report, this sense of...

Excerpt;

As noted in previous sections, the males utilized for ritual purposes and for shared pleasure by the wives at the temple, range in age from very late teens to early twenties. They are fully developed sexually and physically, but notably much younger than the majority of wives who attend the ceremonies, enjoy their service at the Trials (see section 3 re the Trials) or who make use of them with their husbands when they visit the temple. The normal period of service at the temple seems to be about 2 years or sometimes less, after which they are sent to finish their last 5 or 6 years of the universal 8-year service requirement in the border regiments. Thus, an age range of about 19 to 24 would bracket the males I saw in service at the temple.

I note this aspect again here, because, although mentioned previously, continuing with a bare description of the physical performance of the males and their interactions with the evaluating women during these 'interviews' would rather gloss over this anthropologically and socially significant factor. The more detailed, philosophical level comments (noted earlier) about younger women preferring to marry older males and etc; while important, may leave an inappropriately sanitized impression of the motivations for and conduct of these practices. The social acceptance, encouragement and even celebration of these less philosophical/religious, more prurient motivations is surely a factor in the prevalence of this sexual appetite for physically mature yet much younger males among the wives. But noting the lack of social reprimand or censure doesn't convey the potency of and enthusiasm for the indulgence of this appetite. The wives sexual use and enjoyment of these (comparative to most participating wives) very young males is not expressed as a mere lack of inhibition, but is a flagrantly lustful indulgence, a matter for self and mutual congratulation, merriment and verbally masturbatory commentary.

Someone else could say it, not me as author, but as if simply reporting the way these women talk. Even if not an actual quote, it would be plausible enough; 'young cock', 'young balls'; because it's not unimportant; not like you notice it (or can mention it) once at the start and then it's forgotten about and they become the 'generic male'. It's so much a part of how they respond; impressionable, manipulable, that boyish eagerness to offer and display their helplessly priapic, pre-come leaking penises. You can't look at them, can't watch this, especially in the context of the ages of these women, without it biting you, flashing neon red; they're so delectably young and eager. I know these women are all thinking, feeling, enjoying it just that way, just as I am; young cock, young balls, sweet young asses, tight young bodies and those young faces, their expressions so tense and eager.

Ahhhnmm, Armand so close to ejaculation, he had to stop stroking, or maybe just wants to show us that fat young cock jutting up above his tight clenched hand at the base; show us how it spasms, the burbles of pre-come pulsing from the slit. So nice how it pulses and pleads; that's the only way to describe it. He's so ready to come, even the virgin ambassadress who has never seen it happen can read that.

He's pleading, but he's not complaining. He likes showing us how we make his body beg. Having us watch him plead, plead for the goddess' mercy, is as essential to his pleasure as the reward of release. But even that reward (I'm getting this now) is incomplete for him unless it is an offer; unless women like us watch, judge, appraise and compare, coo or cheer or laugh as we chat among ourselves as he spurts his obeisance. He so wants to give us a good show. He is. So nice that way, purple-red, young cock, pulsing it out. I'll have someone say it, not me. But someone has to, because it's not like you forget how young they are as you watch. If anything...

Ariane shuddering as Armand's hand goes back to stroking; shuddering from Armand's tongue and Gi's young penis working together; shuddering from watching with us as Armand strokes and that tongue sweeps her clit, getting what she asked for; to see it and feel it at the same time as they fuck and jerk for the goddess.

Uhnmmmm, Gi's penis slips out of her, a brief display of that lovely young cock thrusting, thrusting futilely outside, slipping up through the folds of her cunt, Armand's tongue lashing the purple nob as Gi draws back to reinsert and sluice that 'young cock' (yes, someone needs to say it) back up into her.

Excerpt;

For this reason, simply noting this age disparity without offering some specific instances of direct commentary, dialogue or actions as characteristic examples, would fail to convey how this impacts attitudes, expectations and practice; in particular, how 'front of mind' it is for both the wives and the males. My object here, of course, is not titillation, but to (hopefully) give some illustrative examples of expression and behavior that others may assess to draw their own conclusions regarding this aspect of age differential in Nymnian goddess worship.

At one point after Gi vaginally penetrated Ariane, the masturbating male began to use his tongue to pleasure her again as well. Whether inadvertently, due to the close proximity of Gi's genitals to the area of this renewed cunnilingus, or as an intentional part of the performance, the masturbating male's tongue was making occasional contact with the shaft of Gi's penis and his testicles as he thrust into her. Whether it or not it began inadvertently, several of the women watching made their pleasure and enjoyment at seeing this known. "Ahn, that's right, lap the come out of those young balls for us." one said. Another expanded this with reference to the penis, taunting the masturbating male with, "Yes, lap those young balls. You want a taste of that sweet young cock too, don't you?"

Both males responded to these comments in ways that made clear that they both, now, were eager and excited to offer this vignette as a featured part of their performance; Gi pausing once or twice in a pelvically upthrust position of full vaginal penetration to emphasize the display of his testicles as Armand lashed them repeatedly with his tongue, prompting happy purrs of approval such as, 'Good boy Gi, show me those tight young balls.'

At another point, the male masturbating had to pause stroking in order to avoid ejaculating before instructed. During this pause, the male drove the ring of forefinger and thumb of his stroking hand down hard to the base of his penis to display its full length and girth as he propped it upright. One of the observing women commented Ex cathedra; "Such good young cock. So much pre-come." The later in reference to the considerable pre-ejaculatory discharge that slicked the shaft and was evident continuing to pulse from the slit in the glans. To which another responded, "It's so sweet how generously the young ones pulse it out." These references to the youth of the male evoked general murmurs of approval, agreement and pleasure among the other women.

Further examples of such commentary and self-congratulatory reminders of and references to the relative youth and 'freshness' of the males could be multiplied.

Or maybe that would be too obviously masturbatory; the author clearly getting off (still, just like Gi knows I will) remembering, picturing him, them, this, over and over as I try to get the details down. But really, about the pre-come; his penis slick with it, slender strands trailing from the head when it slings off as he jerks. I never knew it could be so... must give Elanor a thorough Report.

Ariane using me to prod Gi; her voice a soft continuous, happy patter through broken breath, telling him,

"I think the ambassadress likes this, uhn, she likes watching Armand jerk it for her. Look at her Gi, she likes it. Oh, he gets to show her. But you too, up, up, you too, she wants to see your balls and that sweet cock as you, uhn, yes, she does, fuck me for her report. Armand's gonna spurt if for her. Look how she watches. She wants to see that, see him jerk it out of his balls. You want her to see that don't you? So she'll have something to compare yours to. Armand first, you want her to watch it, and then you. But he gets to show her first. One at a time, because you want her, uhn, her full attention, don't you, when you show her how you dance for the goddess."

Sweet young Gi, panting and bucking up into her from below under the lash of Armand's tongue, looking out at me, dazedly intent, watching me watch, gasping out the occasional, "Yes, yes, please." or "please, let me." in response to her rhetorical whispered questions and assertions.

It's both distracting and perfect; the way she uses me to stroke him, draw his fine young balls up tighter to make him fuck her more desperately. I meet his gaze, smile; yes, the ambassadress does like watching this. Up, up, yes; taunt him with it, make him show me, exhale and beg "yes, please" when my eyes drop back down. Gods, why is that so... those young, upthrust balls flicked and prodded by that other male's tongue; why is that so perfectly... as he draws back and thrusts again in time with the stroke of Armand's fist on that thick cock. Yes, make him compete with that other cock for my attention. I like that there's two. Ariane's voice rasping, breaking into bits of prurient trivia as she mounts towards another peak, watching as the pre-come slings from the head of that fat penis as Armand jerks it for her.

His strokes getting erratic like he can't... He's gonna come; splayed even nicer than that male in the fresco, propped that way so he feels it, knows he's...

But it doesn't quite seem real; too much at once, distracting; maybe that's why. I know he's going to come, at least in my head, but even with all this build up, too much, maybe that's why, distracting, but it just feels odd. Some guy just doing this, making himself, for a bunch of older women, and me, right here, with him propped and splayed like some circus act, doing it right in front of me?

But focus Laura, it is going to happen; he's going make himself come. So don't be dithering and distracted. First time I'll see it, so maybe that's why it doesn't really seem like it could happen; that he'll just do it; do it because he wants to show us he could be 'one of those jack-off guys' who spurts it for the maid, for the goddess.

That's funny; as if that thick, pleading penis would care why, so long he gets to show us. So come on then, do it, do it so we can...

Anhhan, a helpless jerk of the pelvis jumps those hefty young balls.

"I love seeing them buck." Cedera, a soft, satisfied laugh, "Buck and spurt."

"Yes, do it." Did I say that out loud? Doesn't matter. I want to see it; for real, not some fresco; I want to see it. "Buck and spurt." Not my words, Cedera said it; just repeating. So fun how it hits him though; another pretty jump of those hefty young balls "Buck and spurt." laughing.

He moans so deep in that broad chest it buzzes my clit and

"You heard them." Ariane rasps, "You heard them. Now." barely audible.

"I want to see it." her voice? Mine? I don't know; it's all jumbled.

Just show me!

"Kieros." a muffled cry, his mouth partially covered by the soft folds of Ariane's cunt.

Excerpt:

During ritual ejaculation, or as the Nymnians would call it, when offering his semen up to the goddess, a male will call out a dedicatory cry consisting of the word 'Kieros', repeated twice, usually at close intervals. The gap between cries depends upon the timing of his ejaculation. The first cry is to announce the imminence of ejaculation and so draw the attention of the women present. Wives I spoke to pointed out that in addition to indicating dedicatory intent, in situations such as the Trials or Euios where multiple males are in use in a variety of ways, the initial pre-ejaculatory cry is important to assure the male receives due attention (more on that shortly). The second cry is timed to coincide with the first spurt of semen.

As to the importance of the 'due attention' above: The women present in these situations are said to embody the goddess collectively. Hence, the ejaculating males are highly motivated and greatly excited by having the women watch as they offer their semen. The males' motivation and excitement is focused on ejaculating 'for' the women, the goddess. The women will usually play their part and deign to (as they would put it) 'reward' the males with their attention.

They do seem to enjoy seeing males offer. But the women's responses can vary widely depending upon mood, circumstance and personality; simple pleasure, laughing, teasing, complimenting or encouraging the male, silent evaluation or self-congratulatory comments of a dominant, condescending or taunting nature, usually prurient (e. g. to a male; 'come on, get it out of your balls' or sighing happily to another wife; 'the young ones spurt so hard and pretty'). They may greet the males' offers with anything from affectionate gratitude ('there you go, sweet boy, that's what we want') to mercenary appraisal ('come on, show me you're good for the maid's come line'). Regardless, each woman's response to or treatment of the males is considered some aspect of the goddess' pleasure. According to the Nymnians, the wives must be allowed, and allow themselves, to enjoy these males in whatever way they are inclined to or the goddess will be cheated of her full entitlement. This is because no single woman can fully embody Ishea in all her aspects.

Cedera

"Kieros," he prays as he should into her cunt in gratitude, the hand crammed down hard to the base of his fat, purple, precome slicked cock. His hips buck up, his balls slap up and back, poised on his toes, frozen momentarily, his splayed legs tremble slightly as the root of his cock pulses above his anus with the first spasm up the shaft.

"Kieros." again.

A sharp upward jerk of the clenched hand seconds the impulse of the first spurt of semen, propelling it high and thick, a crisp white arc curling up then dropping in a splatter over his chest.

Yes, just right; buck and spurt.

Ariane belly shudders, so beautiful, her lost look.

Chenin moaning as he bucks again, the hand jerking, to shoot an even thicker second spurt theatrically. So sweet how the balls slap in time, slapping Ishea's tribute, three, out of them; that muscular ass flexing so hard and franticly with each jerk of the pelvis.

Ariane shuddering, gasping something to Gi with each spurt as she watches and comes again herself.

"There you go." Dora sneers happily, "Show me what you're good for."

Yes, buck and spurt.

"Show me." She repeats, then laughing as if reading my inner riff. "Slap those balls for me"

I love seeing them like this; their whole bodies jerking and clenching as if they are nothing but an appendage to their penises; just a delivery mechanism for Ulim's worship and tribute; the knotted bone, muscle and sinew heaving to eject, eject. The lean, slender ones flail and writhe prettily, but this one... four; buck and jerk it out; five; up on your toes, this one like a beast fucking heaven, splayed wide; Dora still laughing "make em slap"; six; yes, perfect balls for it, hung just...; seven; good boy, just a blip that time, slung by the jerking fist, a last pretty buck, then the hand dropping down to the base but all that muscle still heaving as he milks it now, trembling with the strain of spreading, lifting to offer it, up on his toes, curled ring of thumb and two fingers forcing it up the shaft, making it ooze down over the head to meet and run down over the ascending finger ring. Milk it again. Ah, there, one last pretty jerk of the pelvis to shake those balls as the finger ring reaches the head and triggers your hypersensitive cock.

His hand drops now to press a thumb behind the base to prop it up-right for us as it pulses with after spasms. He drops down off his toes, the isometric strain too great, the thighs trembling as he struggles to maintain his display. Yes, let him strain, show us how those creased thighs and taut ass shake, making those balls jiggle as if he's trying to show us they're empty as he pleads his case to serve.

I've made up my mind already about this one. But let him plead until the goddess...

"Yes, there you go." Ariane exhales, echoing Dora.

Accepts his offer and relieves him.

His hips collapse back down onto his propping pillow, his spread thighs twitching as the strain dissipates, his toes curling back and up, the huge semen splattered chest heaving, his twitching cock still propped for display.

Good boy. Congratulations. My vote is you get to do that again, and more, for a larger audience at the Trials.

"Now you." Ariane moans softly to Gi. "Sweet boy, you've been so patient. Are you ready to dance for the Ambassadress?"

"Yes, uhn, fuck yes, please let me."

A soft laugh, "Ask her, not me. Tell her what you need. Only if she says yes."

"Ahnm, what a delicious bitch." Dora sighs appreciatively, "Just as it's boiling in the root of his cock and he thinks it's finally his turn." she laughs. "Make him beg."

Sweet, patient Gi; his body frozen, his upthrust cock buried deep, holding still, trying to delay; yes, just when he thought. So pretty how he moans and shudders as he tries to keep it in his balls until he can plead with the goddess/ambassadress to free him. He's gazing so helplessly out at Laura. But he has no breath to beg and Armand is back after his balls. It's too much to ask.

"Kieros." a choked rasp.

Ariane, so quick, so deft, lifts a knee and rolls aside. Gi's suddenly released cock swings back upright, the plump head slapping up against his belly with the recoil, his back arching with a sudden jerk to thrust the pelvis forward on his wide splayed knees, his elbows back, his hands gripping his ass to present, Armand's tongue lashing his balls as,

"I need, please, Ahnmmmm. Kieros."

A picaresque first spurt, the cock rearing back to curl it up in an arc that lands back on the head and drools down onto Armand's neck; the second jetting out fuller, the shaft spasming sharply to sling it; those sweet, small jerks of his hips as he tries to hold still and just let the cock, uhn, spurt and dance for us. He flails so nice, spurts again.

"Please, I dance for you."

Yes, you do. There, the shaft flexing up and back that time to sling it against his belly. I love it done this way with a male that can, ahnm, put it out hard with it just dancing free, rear and spurt, shuddering, jerking but trying to keep still so it's just the dance of the cock as the semen spatters down on Armand's chest to join the tribute from his own balls, and Ulim, desperate Ulim, still bobbing and pleading, spasming to pulse up the dribs; wracking sweet, patient Gi for Ishea's honor and amusement.

It is amusing, but also endearing to see them this way; now drained of semen, but both of them still so eager to display; their cocks still spasming helplessly, flush with the futile flex and throb; Ulim still needing, yes, still needing.

Laura; Six months later; in Gaeldon

I wish now that I could have stayed for the Trials, though that might have only made my current predicament worse. I am already struggling to satisfy my sovereign without sacrificing completely my reputation as a serious scholar. Who knows what sort of 'detailed report' her majesty would be expecting if I had 'personally experienced' more than just the interview. But then, as it is, what she insists upon will likely haunt my career and effectively overshadow any of the more serious textual translation, philological analysis and comparative historic studies I pride myself upon. So, had I stayed, I would at least have had the consolation of having been well fucked by that lovely man-boy, Gi.

Two weeks ago, after turning in the initial draft of my Report on my Nymnian mission, I was summoned by her Majesty.

I enter her private audience chamber and find her Majesty seated at her writing table with my draft Report in front of her.

Elanor is not happy.

"Well endowed?" she scoffs, looking up from the page. "Their penises 'very lively'?" She flips a page, frowning down. "The males were 'responsive and excitable under verbal encouragement'? Or, here's a gem; 'With the male in the prone position, the female, while keeping her torso upright, lowered herself to permit cunnilingus'." She pauses, looks up at me with a raised brow. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that Nymnian bitch sat on his face and made him eat pussy until she..." she drops her eyes and scans the page again, "here it is, 'until she gained release.' What? Is she a pigeon fleeing the coup?"

She pauses this time long enough for me to try to respond.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty, if my descriptive capacities are not up to your expectations. I have tried to..."

"Oh, fuck that 'humble me' shit, Laura." she snaps.

"Yes, your Majesty." I mumble at my shoe tops, keep my head down. This is not good.

"Your descriptive capacities do just fine when you're giving me detailed descriptions of temple architecture, Nymnian grooming and clothing and, oh, you do seem to have dropped your eyes long enough to notice the men were circumcised and had apparently shaved their balls. All very helpful." sarcasm. Then,

"I could have chosen and sent anybody for this. I chose you because, as your detailed descriptions of architecture and other items proves, you are observant and articulate, at least when you want to be. I expected, and I demand, the same observational accuracy, precision and descriptive detail for the sexual activities I actually sent you there to document as you've lavished on the fucking temple architecture which I could care less about. Well endowed? They're men, not dowered daughters. What qualifies as a well-endowed set of Nymnian cock and balls? I'd like to know. You apparently 'observed' two. Is there a set type I should be looking for to fill our stable? And 'responsive and excitable' how exactly? What does a good Nymnian prospect do to demonstrate his responsiveness and excitability? I want blow by blow details because I want to know what to look for when I start trying them out for our own worship. That's the whole point. Plus, I also want a good bit of true to life porn showing women in charge to help me recruit my own set of celebrant women. If you want it to be scholarly and anthropologically accurate porn, that's fine with me. I want it to be true; I don't want you making things up. But I want full descriptions and details, not generalities."

Thus scolded I returned to the library and my notes. Details, she wants details. I added some small 'observations'; like the generous output of pre-come by Armand when I took a first run through edit on the males' physical characteristics. As for responsiveness and excitability, Armand's example seemed most apt, so I started with;

Despite his cunnilingual duties, the masturbating male seemed very attuned to and responsive to the comments of Ariane and the other women. It was clear from the dark flush of his penis, the generous flow of pre-ejaculatory fluid I have noted earlier, his moans and some reflexive jerks and clenching of his body that he was struggling to forestall ejaculation until requested. Exploiting his heightened state of arousal, the wives found great enjoyment in verbally taunting and teasing the male in order to trigger responses they found entertaining.

Entertaining? That doesn't really do it justice. The women were certainly entertaining themselves prodding him, making him... No, that's not it either. No one was making him do anything. He wanted to be 'entertaining', to put on a good show. He was so excited to do it. Why can't I just say that and not get into the flushed penis and pre-come stuff. Not that it isn't an accurate description. But is it really necessary?

Just keep going. I can't keep going back over this. Her Majesty is getting impatient. She wants details, not just the general outline I put in the first sections where I said both males were 'well endowed' and even mentioned the 'liveliness' of their penises under observation to emphasize their excitability. That already has some of the other scholars calling me 'The Royal Pornographer'.

That, actually, only makes me more inclined to say 'fuck them' and write this damned report in un-censored Nymnian. If they could see my personal notes, they'd...

It doesn't matter; Elanor has been perfectly clear what she wants; scholarly pornography it must be. So, the pre-come stays in.

Still, however uncomfortable it may make me, I must agree that Elanor's demands are much more in line with the Nymnian spirit of the thing. Fuck being the nauseous food critic. There's no reason not to describe fully and accurately the particular details of what I observed. Why would any respectable scholar censor the facts in order to satisfy some non-anthropologically based squeamishness or to avoid the juvenile sniggering of these... 'men'?

She was right to send a woman to do this. Moreover, I am determined to prove she was right to send me. 'Well endowed'? Gods, really? No wonder she scoffed. Two beautiful young cocks, each distinctly varied, selected by experienced older women (Guides) specifically for their pleasing forms, proportions and responsiveness. It's not as if the aesthetic qualities of their penises were beside the point or incidental, any more than their youth was, or that I didn't notice or can't recall the specifics; that lovely upward arc of Gi's shaft and the way the rim of the plump head flared out beyond it; the thick, richly veined, post of Armand's erection and those 'hefty' balls, the way they filled Ariane's open palm as she weighed them for us. Sure, all that is titillating; but that was one of the reasons for their selection and, to paraphrase the AhnIe, they were supposed to have that effect.

So, okay; I penned a full description of each male; detailed their individual physiques and the distinct form and proportions of their genitals. I had vowed to myself in Nymnia that I would do that; give lovely Gi his due in my Report. But somehow, back here in Gaeldon it just seemed too confessional. But it's done now. I'm not taking it out. It took a while because it was hard to stay in objective description mode and keep both hands up on the table and not...

Gi knew this would happen. That I'd be picturing these things over and over, dwelling on the details as I tried to write this up; seeing him again, that plump flushed head of his oil slick cock as I brushed my thumb under the cleft to make him jerk and feel the shaft pulse in my grip. Yes, it's not as if I forgot the details of that young penis, or ever will. So, this has taken some time, discipline, to not be distracted by the need to relieve that ache so I can concentrate and not...

So, okay, the pre-come and the and the dark flush of the penis stay in because it is not just accurate but also important to convey just how hyper aroused both males were by this point and 1) how the women exploited that to 'entertain' (that's a good enough word) themselves and 2) how the males had to struggle to restrain themselves from ejaculating but also 3) how they seemed to plead and be grateful for the 'teasing and taunting' that triggered them.

As to that last, I can't shake the impression that the women were also being exploited by the males. Perhaps not equally; the women were always nominally 'in charge'. But the male responses often seemed to intentionally egg them on to be even more lewd and demanding.

Armand was so excited, so eager to have our approval. Yes, he was being teased and taunted, but he almost seemed to be teasing and taunting us as well with his responses; prodding us to confess our own pleasure and arousal. When he heard we liked it, wanted it, it was not just helpless reflex how eagerly and pointedly he made those big balls slap up and down. It was not a 'normal' or spontaneous way for a guy to jerk off. I can't read Armand's mind. Maybe he bucks and slaps his balls up and back like that when he's jerking off by himself and times the jerk of his hips and the sweep of the fist up the shaft with each spasm of his cock to shoot it harder and accentuate the upward swing of his balls in the sack. But I doubt it. Any more than I think he splays himself out that way or props his ass up with a cushion or arches and holds his hips high to jack himself up on his toes or, for that matter, licks another guy's balls as he strokes. That's why it's important to be accurate here. The Queen is right; the details are not just details; they are key to conveying the dynamic of reciprocal provocation and pleasure the goddess incites.

It was a performance. But that didn't make it insincere or less intense erotically. He wanted to come, sure he did. But what excited him most; what pulsed his semen up the shaft so hard and thick; was being told to buck and spurt and hearing Dora's approval, knowing he was pleasing and yes, provoking her, as she told him, "Make those balls slap for me" and then her smug laughter as she enjoyed the show. He worked it, jerking and bucking in time with his spurts to "make 'em slap" for laughing Dora and the goddess.

The goddess? Well, if there were ever a deity worthy of a woman's veneration...

So, the details;

This male, as noted earlier, had very large testicles that hung somewhat loosely in the scrotum even when near ejaculation. The teasing triggered him at one point to buck his hips sharply. It seemed to me a reflexive response in his over-excited state, not an intentional effort to produce an end result. But the visual effect, given his fully spread thighs and hips raised position, was to jounce those large testicles sharply up and down in the scrotum. Some of the women found this pleasing. The action did seem to accentuate and draw attention to the generous proportions and clear articulation of the testicles in the scrotum. This feature of Armand's genitals had drawn favorable comment from the women previously.

One of the more experienced wives, Cedera, commented approvingly; "I love seeing them buck. Buck and spurt."

Another, laughing, seconded her; "Yes, do it. Buck and spurt. Buck and spurt."

These comments clearly excited the male further, triggering him to go up onto his toes to lift the pelvis higher and moan loudly in response.

It was then that Ariane directed him to masturbate to ejaculation saying, "You heard them. Now."

Having been coaxed and prodded so close to ejaculation for an extended period, the male almost immediately gave the traditional cry of 'Kieros' and started ejecting his semen. But he did so in a way that was clearly choreographed to match the requests to see him 'buck and spurt'. Whether or not the initial 'buck' and hard jounce of his testicles had been merely reflexive, he now very clearly intentionally repeated and even further accentuated the motion as he ejaculated. To accentuate the motion of the testicles, he timed the sharp upward jerks of his pelvis to coincide with the penile spasms that ejected his semen to literally fulfill the requests to 'buck and spurt'. He also timed the quick upward stroke of his fist on the shaft with each buck and spasm to make his semen shoot more forcefully. This also further amplified the repeated upward 'slap' of the testicles with each spurt. The women made clear this was welcome and amusing, laughing and urging him on to 'make those balls slap for me.' Their laughter and obvious enjoyment making him buck and jounce his testicles yet more urgently.

Okay, that's all perfectly accurate. There's no need to mention that I was one of the 'women' laughing and, yes, enjoying those slapping balls and urging him to 'buck and spurt'. This is not about me. And as for the laughter, there's really no way to explain it further; not in a technical report anyway.

There was certainly an anatomically comedic element to the exaggerated slapping of his balls. But it was also a struttingly male response; the comedy of the display inseparable from the quality and size of his balls that it emphasized with such effect. And there was a self-satisfied smugness to our laughter. But it was satisfaction, not mockery. The smugness was triumphal, self-congratulatory, or even mutually congratulatory; yes Armand, that is quite the set of balls.

I laughed with the rest of them. But it was Ishea's laughter, her pleasure, his reward. He heard it and it surged the semen up the shaft, made those hips buck and the hand jerk to make those balls slap in frenzied pleasure, wringing his every nerve and sinew and muscle past exhaustion; continuing to wrack him and spasm his penis even after he collapsed back down, spent and twitching. I felt it. I could see it. It was more than just the pleasure of orgasm. It wasn't submission; Ulim had seduced the goddess, and he knew it.

But that can't go in the Report; it's too personally self-revealing; the 'objective' anthropologist apparently going native. He serves our whim, but it's not submission because it is his deepest pleasure to discover and serve ours. But it's his need, his pleasure that drives him. Our 'erotic whims' are confessions he extracts from us with his compliance; the gold he learns to mine for his own treasure. But it doesn't detract, in fact it reenforces that sense of feminine empowerment and entitlement of manipulating his need for our amusement; "making him" buck and spurt and slap his balls as we laugh.

"Making him." Yes, we 'made' them, both of them, perform to our specifications. But putting it that way loses all the nuance. We 'told them', yes. But their own urgent needs to know and serve our pleasure and erotic whimsy is what drove them to it. By the same sexual logic, Armand 'made' Ariane shudder and clutch and drench his probing tongue and mouth with her release; 'made' this naïve ambassadress clench and shudder right along with her. He made her, yes, made me. You could see his bodily exaltation, his cock spasming excitement, his own triumphant smugness at 'making' her come and yes, then 'making' us laugh. So, who is serving whose needs here?

My place as archivist and anthropological historian is not to answer that. That could prejudice the views of future scholars by intruding my own personal perspective between their judgement and the bare facts. I know what I think, but I am too conscious of my own idiosyncratic sexual and social conditioning to set forth my personal reactions as more than that or, for that matter, to set them forth at all.

Elanor's insistence on graphic details makes that a difficult enough line to walk when discussing Armand's performance. But when it comes to Gi, my attempts to avoid self-revelation without resorting to outright falsification feel futile. From his first introduction, even before his 'unveiling', the AhnIe with her talk about my Report and how his performance would be written up, with her references to my relative naiveté and his potential role in taking my voyeuristic virginity; it all focused his sexual excitement on giving a 'personalized' performance for the ambassadress.

Once I got over my initial internal resistance, I found it both enjoyable and arousing to recall and provide a verbal portrait each male's build, ass, penis and testicles; providing small narrative vignettes to highlight their distinctive traits and (more to the point) to satisfy Elanor's prurient appetites. For example, in describing their 'differing testicular characteristics', (Dora would be rolling on the floor at that) I recounted how Ariane handled each of them as they stood in front of us, using her hand as a comparative measure of size and hang.

With Armand I told how

'Ariane placed her open hand beneath the male's scrotum, then raised and lowered it as if testing or emphasizing the size and weight of his testicles. In her slightly cupped hand, the male's two testicles, resting side by side, spanned from the heel of her hand to the second joint of her extended fingers, resembling two large hen's eggs.'

I like that description for its accuracy and how I think it makes my later description of his balls slapping more vivid for my Queen's imagination. But it also has a clinically objective feel and tone to it that I found hard to replicate when it came to Gi. Using Ariane's hand again as a comparative measure (and aiming for a nicely prurient vignette for Elanor's enjoyment) I used Ariane reaching up between his legs from behind to toy with his balls as he stood there facing us and she extolled him as a 'healthy young animal'. I wanted to describe the way she fluffed and rolled them with her four fingertips. Describing their motion in the sack, the way they jostled side to side and drew up to stretch the sack between them, his upturned pelvis accentuating the root of his cock plunging to his anus. How he looked out at me, so excited for me to watch, small shudders making his balls jiggle as the sack tightened in his excitement, their spongy resilience in my hand as I pressed them and slicked them with oil...

Wait! That can't go in the Report.

The problem is, every time I picture it, him, that all just comes rushing back. Sponginess aside, it's not that those other details don't visually distinguish between the two males. But once I decided to wade into the explicit, I found it much harder with Gi to calibrate the proper level of clinically relevant (masturbatory) detail to (wallow in) include. It took me several drafts (and more than one personal adjustment to avoid distraction) to come up with;

At one point during the discussion as Gi stood facing us, Ariane reached up between his legs from behind to handle his testicles. The male, clearly excited, responded by opening his stance further and (in what I have previously described as the 'present your balls' display) rolling his pelvis up to better display her ministrations. Clearly excited; okay, leaving out the details of how he watched me watch, met my gaze and moaned when my eyes dropped to enjoy how; Using the four fingertips of her open hand she 'fluffed' them lightly making them jog in the scrotum, then rolled them back and forth between her slightly splayed fingers as one might a pair of worry stones. Under this handling, the male's testicles drew upward and separated to either side of the penile root, becoming clearly individually articulated in the tightened scrotum and exhibiting less motility under her continued prodding. Leaving out the 'plunging to the anus' reference and those small shudders that made them jiggle as he strained to roll his pelvis further to lift them and show me.

Yes, me; that was the difference with Gi. As a matter of anatomical comparison (and prurient entertainment for Elanor), the passage works fine. The span of Ariane's 'slightly splayed fingertips' toying with Gi's balls as compared to Armand's filling the span from the 'heel to the second finger joint' of her hand, provides a good size comparison between them. And noting the responsiveness of Gi's balls in the sack, the way they pulled up and hugged the root as he grew more excited, distinguishes their hang from the lower sling of Armand's. As a matter of information, it works just fine.

But it entirely fails to convey the interpersonal dynamic that rendered Gi's performance an act of worship... of me. But not me; not that way. He made me an idol of his goddess. I could see it. By his enraptured eagerness and excitement for my attention and approval, he showed me, made me feel, my entitlement to the worship of his young body.

Maybe it was all just in his head; a product of his cultural and sexual conditioning and the circumstantial presence of the exotic, virginal woman 'from away' that prodded his already overwrought, twenty something priapism. Maybe. But if there is a goddess, how else would she accomplish her ends? And if there are no gods, if they are just metaphors for primal human urges and desires, I fail to find a better or more truthfully expressive metaphor for the experience than that of Ishea and Ulim.

But I can't, or at least won't, write this dual perspective on theological prurience up as a personal experience. Because, for some things, like Armand's oral ministrations to Ariane, my physical and emotional response (okay, my continuing arousal) at recalling it, makes even just relaying the bare facts feel like I'm masturbating in front of whoever reads it. But that oral element is so central to the 'interview' that it can't be left out. So, I've tried to create some literary distance by putting it in terms of anthropological observation/interpretation of the perceived beliefs of the Nymnians.

Addressing The Goddess;

It is difficult to convey in terms of conventional conceptions of piety, the intermingling of (or perhaps indistinguishability between) devotional ritual and unapologetically recreational prurient gratification in Nymnian goddess worship. The blending or blurring of mythical and physical attributes is common; such as the tendency to refer to the erect penis itself as Ulim; as if the physical manifestation of the divine lust in individual males' erections were indistinguishable from or interchangeable with the god himself. The women refer to themselves or sometimes their sexual urges and even the female genitals themselves as "the goddess". However, such semi reverential references to erections, the men who sport them, to vaginas or individual women have no monopoly on discourse. The slang terms 'cock' and 'cunt' are also casually and/or approvingly used.

The re-enactment of the anteroom fresco described above is illustrative of this dual nature, containing several iconic elements with symbolic resonance to portions of the Ishean mythology.

The practice of cunnilingus, particularly in the male prone/ female mounted position observed in the anteroom fresco and reenacted in the interview, is freighted with associations to the story of the temple's founding by the first AhnIe. According to the story, the goddess Ishea instructed the first AhnIe to seduce a male upon the Ie, which at that time was a wilderness place. She told AhnIe to straddle the male's face as in the fresco and have him perform cunnilingus as he masturbated to ejaculation. Ishea caught the male's semen in a golden cup and used part of it to form a string of pearls which has graced the neck of each AhnIe since. The goddess poured the remainder of his semen out upon the ground as a libation, and it is on that spot where her temple stands.

This is only one of several devotional and semi-ritual associations cunnilingus, in this and other variations, has for the Nymnians. The practice is often referred to generally as "addressing the goddess", as if the male is pleading for favor or worshipping the goddess by the act. This does not seem to be euphemistic, but to convey an actual sense of devotional enthusiasm and even reverence shared by both the male and female participants. But such reverence does not dampen, but in fact seems to heighten, enthusiasms of a purely physical and prurient nature.

It would be hard to overstate the demonstrative excitement and eagerness with which the male, Armand, pursued his oral ministrations. He performed with a surprising mix of muscular assertiveness, lingual delicacy and gentleness. The insistence of his grip, pressing mouth and slashing and darting tongue, a mix of aggressive probing and alternately delicate flickering over the folds and clitoral peak, the reflexive buck and thrusting of his pelvis and repeated spasming of his deeply flushed penis all made his pleasure and arousal in the task obvious. Ariane's response and eventual orgasm, made it clear his prayers for the goddess' favor were not in vain.

Nor were the spectators (evaluators) of the performance reticent with regards to the prurient details of the matter. At one point the woman seated next to me offered her enthusiastic comment on a pleasure wracked moment for Ariane where the male pulled her down and pinioned her in place for a particularly deep lingual probe; "Tongue fuck that pretty ass." she urged (needlessly given the male's insistence on just that). Yet, in the next moment, the AhnIe herself offered an equally approving, but more ideologically laden, narrative take on the scene when Ariane's vaginal release upon orgasm visibly drenched the male's upturned chin and cheeks as he continued to lap hungrily at her; "There, sweet Ulim, your reward; drain the overflowing cup of Ishea's mercy."

The 'cup,' indeed, seemed to overflow generously. Yet the male was almost frantically agitated by the effusion, as if he were, in fact, some religious votary; heaving and lapping ecstatically in reception of the goddess' gift.

However self-contradictory it may seem in terms of common conceptions of piety and the relation between the sacred and profane, I am convinced by my investigations that, for the Nymnians, a young male in service is in fact perceived, by himself and 'the wives' (as the Nymnians refer to participating women generally), in both aspects simultaneously; the votary, pleading for Ishea's mercy and (for want of a better term) the 'boy toy' that will compliantly and eagerly (forgive the perhaps needless repetition of the obscenity) 'Tongue fuck that pretty ass.'

Some other things, though, are still too personally poignant for any amount of anthropologic gloss to veil my sense of exposure. I take such vivid vicarious pleasure (still) that I can't shut down the projection of myself into Ariane's role as she stood over Armand, straddling his head, and taunted, or rewarded, or, fuck it, just showed him; reaching down with both hands to open and spread her cunt for his visual (soon to be lingual) adoration; telling him, 'This is what you want, need.' To hear him moan and see that huge penis spasm in devotion; there is no way for me to scholastically sanitize away my sense that anyone who read it would know it was 'me'... standing over that young, prone and heaving male, straddling his upturned face, watching his thick, stiff penis burble up pre-come in lust and homage at the sight of my spread cunt. Gods, I want that. For just a moment I was that; confident, shamelessly, fearlessly opening, not just my cunt, but...

But all the words are wrong; 'shamelessly', 'fearlessly', the words presuppose some need for those qualifications. It's only feels fearless and shameless to me, here, now in my cramped little library writing closet, because I have always been fearful and shamed. But when your cunt is the goddess, it is pure beneficence and mercy to open it to some young male's adoration. Confidence? Shame? Fear? The goddess, in and as my flesh, plays happily beyond all that. Are the gods confident? One just laughs.

Yet 'beyond' is also all wrong. She is beyond nothing. In and as my flesh, she suffers and exults in the intimate, personal intensity of my sense of triumphant exposure, arousal and freedom. She is the burn and spark in my clit as I imagine; for just a moment, and so, indelibly forever; that was me.

However potent to me personally, that particular moment is a small, brief vignette that can easily be omitted without falsifying or losing the sense of the overall dynamic of the 'interview'. But when it comes to Gi's offer, that, like Armand's oral ministrations, is too central to the devotional dynamic to omit without falsification. But, at the same time, the experience and the memory of it is so intensely visceral that my sense of personal, almost confessional exposure in relating it is all but paralyzing.

I tried to tell myself I could leave it out; not his ejaculation per se, but the particulars of its presentation. After Ariane rolled away to expose him, I could just have him masturbate to ejaculation; draft it up similar to Armand's display except he'd be on his knees and there'd be the added spice (for Elanor) of Armand lapping his balls as he stroked it out. Surely that would be enough to satisfy her Majesty's prurient appetite. There's plenty of other accurate and revealing factual detail about Nymnian practice in the Report without having to mention this particular idiosyncratic fetish of having the male display his free-standing penis as he ejaculates. Really, that's all it is; a voyeuristic/exhibitionist fetish. That the wives refer to and treat its performance (as so much else) with a confusing mix of condescension, amusement, arousal and (mock or real) reverence; calling it the 'Ulim dance', seeming to reduce the god to a spasming penis; only makes the fetishistic aspect more blatant. I could just leave it out. No one would ever know.

But I would know. And somehow, despite my every attempt at rationalization and all my social and professional trepidation, I know it's omission would be a betrayal. But of who or what? my rational mind asks.

Of Gi? Some horny, exhibitionist, post teen who got off imagining me as... whatever.

Of the Goddess? Yeah well, whatever power and respect she may enjoy in Nymnia, in Gaeldon she's just a divine porn slut; because that's what our gods and our men will make her. Even Elanor, already eager for some sample 'Nymnian cock and balls' descriptions for comparison to local fare, will wind up there. The AhnIe was right; whatever new worship her Majesty may think she's establishing, it will just be a parody.

Of the very scholarly and professional standards I'm trying to protect by such omission? As if those standards would ever contemplate the details of such prurience as a subject of serious import or study in the first place.

Of myself? If this becomes about me, it is a confessional novel or memoir. Already they are calling me the royal pornographer. They aren't getting the chance to treat me as a psychological case study of a sexually repressed, neurotic, wanna-be slut.

I can rationalize my way out of anything I want. But I know, in fact, it would be a betrayal of all four; but particularly of Gi and myself. Yes, he was, in fact, a horny exhibitionist post teen who got off imagining me as his voyeuristic, curious virgin who wanted to see a boy's stiff penis spurt like the naughty stories and pictures say and show them doing. And, in fact, that did not take too much imagination. I certainly fit the role and, whatever my initial motivations, by the time he offered, that's a fair description of what I wanted and got. But it was also something else... to both of us.

Whether it was mutual delusion, a hallucination triggered by over-stimulus and hyper arousal, or a revelation of some divine truth induced by ritual, psychological manipulation and role playing, there was a moment of mutual recognition between us that was both primally visceral, ecstatically innocent, vulnerable, trusting and...

There is an 'and'; the opening of previously locked door that can't be closed again. We walked through. We paid for the key with those pearls of Ishea he spilled for me and I then surrendered in pleasure to her. Neither of us would have gotten through that door without 'seeing', even if for only that moment, the god and goddess in the other.              

So, Gi and the dance will have their due. But there will not be any mention of the personalized aspects of his offer and my reception of it. I will relate my own initial ignorance of what it entailed when the term was first used, and then give a factually accurate general description of the 'Ulim dance' as a mode of presentation, including some subsequent discussion of its other uses beyond the particulars of the interview. I will then provide a full (and explicitly detailed) description for Elanor of Gi's offer to conclude my narrative. To the extent Gi's performance provoked in me some particularly intense prurient pleasure or response, I will 'honor' that by expressing it through words or actions attributed to others. None of this requires any mention of my personal reactions (at least as attributed to me) or of Gi's fixation on me as the object of his dedicatory intent.

During the discussion of how the males should present their offers, one of the women expressed an interest in seeing them 'dance'. It was unclear to me at the time how 'dancing', as that term is usually understood, would fit with the particular staging under consideration (i. e. one male prone performing cunnilingus as the other, kneeling, engaged in intercourse from behind). Armand's Guide said he could 'trip along' but that it tended to 'cut him off' somewhat so that it probably wasn't his 'best use'. Gi's Guide, Ariane, on the other hand, claimed that Gi 'danced well' and that doing so seemed to enhance his eagerness and the intensity of his pleasure in the performance. All the women agreed that Gi should perform what they called 'the Ulim dance'.

Though I was still unsure what sort of choreography this might entail, it was immediately evident that the anticipation of performing this way greatly excited Gi. He moaned deeply and, in what seems to be a reflexive response to express and dissipate mounting sexual tension, thrust his hips forward and curled the pelvis under to lift and accentuate the display of the testicles and tip the erect penis up to stand vertically (i. e. the 'present your balls' display). In this position his penis flexed and spasmed repeatedly, performing, as it were, an excited 'dance' that seemed to greatly amuse and please the women who offered approving comment and encouragement.

It was at this point that I began to intuit how the term 'Ulim dance' fit in the scheme of males making dedicatory offerings of their semen. Upon reflection, after observing him ejaculate, I saw that Gi's responsive display was not just a way to dissipate mounting sexual tension (though it was surely that), but also an impromptu audition and display of aptitude.

As noted above, dedicatory ejaculation (offering) is always staged and intended as a display for all women present or, in larger groups, as many as the male can attract to watch his performance with his cries of 'Kieros.' The male will always try to present in a way that visually emphasizes the ejection of the semen. For purposes of temple service, the wives enjoy and prefer males who ejaculate forcefully and in good volume (another reason young males are preferred). For this reason, a male will usually continue to stimulate the penis by stroking or other means during ejaculation to maximize the force and quantity of semen ejected.

The Ulim dance refers to a specific style or 'mode' of presenting the penis for viewing during ejaculation. Unlike the common practice noted above, a male performing the Ulim dance will bring himself (or be brought) to ejaculation, but then immediately stop stimulating the penis, leaving it free to spasm and 'dance' with the ejaculatory contractions as the semen pulses out.

As noted by Armand's guide above, this form of presentation may frustrate many males, 'cutting off' full ejaculation, diminishing the amount and force of the semen ejected. But there are also a smaller number of males, as noted by Ariane of Gi, who not only ejaculate fully, but perform this way eagerly and with (seemingly at least) greater pleasure and excitement than they would otherwise. After the interview when the males and their guides were dismissed, subsequent discussion among the wives as they shared their evaluations of the performance of Gi and Armand (and some other prospects they had interviewed earlier that day that I did not observe), revealed a typically Nymnian mix of prurient and reverential attitudes, responses and motives for having males present their 'offers' this way.

With respect to the more common male response of incomplete and lessened ejaculation when made to 'dance', the women noted this result can be entertaining for the wives in a different way and can be used to extend the pleasures of use for both the women and the males themselves. They noted that the frustration of the full ejaculatory impulse still offers a level of physical pleasure to the male; the fuller exposure of the penis to the women's attention and their expressions of pleasure and amusement at watching it (and him) as it spasms ineffectually, feeds his exhibitionist compulsions. As noted by Dora and Chenin who both seem to have a fondness for the practice, the male's 'frustration' is not just entertaining in itself, but can sometimes be repeatedly leveraged to extend the pleasureful use of the male.

In situations where males are available to use for more extensive periods than the interview I observed, the wives (according to Dora and Chenin) sometimes entertain themselves by repeatedly stimulating young males to ejaculation and leaving them to 'dance', ejecting only a portion of their normal amount of semen. All males considered suitable for service will be 'good' for several ejaculations in any extended ceremonial or married couple's temple visit. Thus, the temporary frustration that may be caused by partial ejaculation does not foreclose a male from enjoying full release some later time. But, as explained by Dora, there are certain young males (as well as some older ones among the husbands) who, when brought to ejaculate but denied full release by being left to dance, will remain fully and robustly erect and can be coaxed into 'dancing' this way several times in succession over an extended period, putting out some amount of fresh semen each time without losing tumescence or diminishing their level of pleasure and excitement at performing. For such males, given their hunger for the wives' attention and approval, being the focus of such an extended round of sexual play and partially ejaculating several times can provide them greater pleasure than a single round of full ejaculation. Chenin was particularly proud of her skills in using males this way, laughingly boasting of her ability to (in her words) "coax a milk pail of come out of them, one teaspoon at a time." Again, not all males are robustly erectile under such extended play. But in Dora's words "It's great sport if you get the right male for it."

But in addition to this 'sporting' use of the Ulim dance, there is also a certain level of reverential regard for this form of presentation with respect to males, such as Gi, who present this way with full ejaculatory duration, force and volume, and with seemingly greater excitement and pleasure than offering in some other way. In the AhnIe's assessment of the semen offered by a male when the Ulim dance is performed this way; "These are Ishea's true pearls; the ultimate expression of dedicatory obeisance to the goddess." To paraphrase her more theological laden characterization of the male "trusting in Ishea's mercy for his reward"; the key seems to be that, upon ejaculation, the (trusting) male "turns over all initiative to the goddess, gaining and perfecting his pleasure" by completely surrendering its bodily fulfillment to serve her. According to the wives, males who can in this way, "without reserve, offer themselves and their pleasure fully up to the goddess" (Cedera's phrasing), reap the reward of truly ecstatic release.

As in so many other instances, these more elevated sentiments expressed by the AhnIe and Cedera, were quickly (and without any apparent sense of contradiction) supplemented by Dora with; "That's what we tell them anyway, per encouragement; surrendering to the role will conjure the god and evoke Ishea's mercy. It seems to be true enough for some of them anyway. But even if it disappoints them, it's really so charming how they'll stand, kneel or lay there gasping as their cocks flail and you just know how badly they want to reach in and finish jerking it out. But they're looking at you as they let it dance with that 'tell me I'm a good boy' expression." To which there was general good-natured laughter and then, Cedera, "Who knows what they really feel. The good ones, though, like Gi, seem to believe and talk themselves into it. They'd rather dance than fuck. If they're any good, they know it will always get them a little extra attention. The wives love a good dance if the cock is lively and the male can put it out."

I leave it to others to try and glean some more unified 'doctrine' from these various sentiments than I have been able to. I turn instead to my direct observations of this particular male (Gi) and his performance of the Ulim dance, noting that it appeared, from the women's immediate responses and later comments, to fully gratify both the prurient and theological (tastes? appetites?) expectations of his evaluators.

As described previously, the prone male, Armand, had demonstrated his competence at cunnilingus then 'bucked and spurted' to the general approval and amusement of his evaluators. During this time Gi, in addition to the stimulation of intercourse and the lapping and teasing of his testicles by Armand's tongue, had been positioned and directed to watch (and coordinate his thrusting with) Armand's masturbation and eventual ejaculation. Cedera later explained that in staging the males this way, Ariane was exploiting specific arousal triggers.

As noted earlier, the young males selected for temple service display highly exhibitionist tendencies, and a compulsion for compliance with feminine sexual direction to gain attention and approval. But in addition, these males also share other common arousal triggers. Most relevant here is a strong empathic response to seeing other males' sexual engagement and pleasure. Ariane instructing Gi and Armand to watch and coordinate their respective thrusting and stroking, enhanced that response; each male empathically sharing the other's pleasure.

Given all this, the level and variety of sexual stimulus Gi was subject to by the point of Armand's ejaculation was extremely high. In addition to the normal male empathic response to seeing another male ejaculate, for Gi, seeing the women watching and reacting to it, empathically triggered his specific exhibitionist compulsions. Seeing women watch and enjoy another male's ejaculation is a potent trigger. Given all this, Gi had shown remarkable restraint awaiting his own moment to offer.

Ariane seemed at first to be ready to release him, saying, "Now you." And then, in that tone of affectionate condescension; "Sweet boy, you've been so patient. Are you ready to dance for the AhnIe?"

Given his obvious state of arousal, the question seemed rhetorical. Gi eagerly affirmed his readiness with a gasping expletive plea of; "Yes, fuck yes, please let me!"; clearly anticipating that, after so much psychological and physical sexual over-stimulation, his opportunity to ejaculate was imminent.

But no sooner had Ariane induced this desperate plea than she appeared to make a last attempt to toy with this 'sweet boy's' patience by giving him a final hoop to jump through to earn his release, instructing him not to ask her for permission but to 'plead' with the AhnIe for the privilege; "Tell her what you need. Only if she says yes."

I say 'appeared', because it is unclear whether she actually expected him to be able to comply with this or, knowing he was already past such restraint, was taunting him to elicit a more 'entertaining' performance. Dora gave me her assessment later as the evaluators discussed among themselves: "Of course he couldn't hold back. It was just one more twist of the cord; to make him beg to come even as it danced. That was the point. The tighter you wind them, the prettier they jerk and shudder as they unspool." Ariane had departed with Gi at that point, so I could not confirm that assessment of her intent. But the results did seem consistent with Dora's take.

Being instructed to plead with the AhnIe for permission to ejaculate seemed to trigger an almost convulsive shudder in the male, the hips jerking forward to drive the penis fully up into Ariane, at which point his body seemed to seize, his gaze locked on (me, but for purposes of this report) the AhnIe, his lips parted as if struggling to comply and formulate his 'plea'. But the struggle was brief. Unable to further restrain the impetus to ejaculate, he gasped out the cry of 'Kieros' to announce its imminence.

Forewarned by his cry, Ariane disengaged from him with surprising swiftness, lifting upwards off of his penis and rolling off to one side to expose it for viewing. Upon release, his recoiling penis sprung up hard, the large head slapping back against his belly as his back arched with the sudden forward thrust and lift of his hips into what I have previously described as the 'present your balls' position. This presentation, on splayed knees with the pelvis thrust forward and tipped up, visually accentuated the continuing ministrations to his testicles by the other male who lapped and mouthed them as Gi's penis 'danced' above.

In the short interval between his first cry of Kieros and the first spurt of his ejaculation, Gi tried to comply with Ariane's direction to plead, gasping out an initial plea of "I need, please," but then breaking off in a moan, before crying "Kieros" the second time. Simultaneous with that cry, his penis spasmed forcefully back towards his belly and ejected the first of several generous spurts of his semen. During ejaculation the male was clearly restraining his other bodily responses so that, other than the occasional small shudder or jerk, he was motionless except for the spasms of the shaft that ejected his seed. Left to flail on its own, the sharp upward bob of the head with each spurt made it seem apropos to call the motion of the penis a 'dance'.

During ejaculation the male remained focused upon the AhnIe. His gaze locked on her, his need to comply with Ariane's instruction to plead, triggering a final rasp of "Please, I dance for you", before the continued ejection of his semen left him breathless for speech. Consistent with Dora's previously noted observation, this pleading did seem to increase his already intense excitement and pleasure, the penis flailing with several more vigorous ejections that slung his semen back up against his belly but also out onto the prone male's neck and chest where it mingled with that from the previous 'offer'. The prone male's response to this fresh christening was to lap at Gi's testicles with renewed excitement, his own penis flexing in empathic pleasure as the semen from the one above spattered down on him.

In contrast to the smugly satisfied and amused reception from the women that greeted the prone male's ejaculation, the women fell quiet and were notably still and attentive as they observed Gi's 'dance'. The occasional sharp intake of breath or softly muttered 'ahmm' of pleasure from one or another of them in reaction to the more vigorous spurts, and then an undercurrent of soft approving murmurs that fell away to stillness as, having burbled up the last remnants of his semen, the penis continued to spasm ineffectually.

There followed a rather extended period of (I venture to suggest) semi-reverential quiet, broken only by the heave and rasp of the two male's breathing as they held position; Gi kneeling over Armand, his hips still thrust forward and turned up in the 'present your balls' position, and Armand, though no longer lapping Gi's testicles, presenting by raising his hips again, pressing a thumb behind the base of his still erect penis to stand it up for display. Despite their ejaculations, both males remained fully erect, their penises still visibly flushed and throbbing. The women and the males seemed mutually reluctant to break this quiet terminal interim of the interview; the males basking in the attention and the approval of their performance; the women enjoying, each in their own way, this final young male priapic tribute to the goddess.

These, of course, are only my personal impressions.