Life and Times of a Priestess: Ch.8: Winter In The Occupied City (Part 2: Virgin Soldier)

Part 2 : Virgin Soldier

     Hungrily the soldier licked her all over.  He had never known love before, none at all.  Love, the sense of a mother’s love, or the love of relatives, brothers and a sister, of firm friendships with the old friends back home and with soldiers here in the field.  Yes he had known plenty of that kind of love, although many other people he had known could also be quite cruel.  But sexual love, the love that in Vanmar is hard to find, is a more precious commodity to a man.  It is less easily granted than friendship and millions of men and women in Vanmar are starved of it.  They live their lives, or much of their lives, in loneliness and desperation.

     He said nothing to Danella. He had paid his money to the guard at the entrance and shyly entered this place of strange and forbidden pleasures of which only the tales of other soldiers had made him aware lately.  They had spoken of these places, mostly with humour, in the same way as the subject of sexual pleasure was always treated at home.  But some of them in moments of private and sensible conversation have spoken more seriously to him or between themselves.  Often these moments occurred after serious talk or war when conversation turned to matters of dignity and belief or when he was alone in the company of a friend or of an older comrade who wished to share his advice to a younger man.   They spoke of pleasure they had never or rarely known with wives or girlfriends at home, of the unhurried kindness of the Priestesses, of strange and wonderful acts of pleasure and feeling.

     Before him was a large room filled with beds, small desks, wardrobes and wooden chairs, some beside the beds most in the group area where most of the lovely inhabitants reposed, talking, relaxing, playing.  All wore the voluptuous gowns of the Priesthood, purple usually, but some of other colours, blue, red, yellow, green.  They were loosely tied by a belt.  “Just go in and pick one of the women who sit near the entrance,” the guard had said when he asked him where to go and what to do.  “If they say they are not on duty, which some of them aren’t, just pick another one.  Don’t forget that they live in this dormitory.  They will show you where to go.  There are some rooms at the back and some beds at the back with curtains around them.  But they don’t always close the curtains unless you ask for them to be closed.  They like to do it in public you see.”

    To an inexperienced Prancirian virgin this was frightening news.  The very act of entering these premises had caused him to be red faced and his heart to pound.  Entering had been an act of great courage, although he supposed not quite so great as to risk death on the battlefield which he had done now on a few occasions.  It was the knowledge that each day when he went south again might be his last which made him able to face this challenge.  How could a woman hold as much fear for him as facing a hail of death from Pirionite guns and arrows.  He faced the women who seemed to be waiting.  There was no difference in their appearance to the others, who seemed purely inclined to relax.  They were the same robes and they seemed to have made no greater effort to look more attractive.  They wore no makeup, which was a custom of many ladies of Prancir who wished to attract males.

     Most of the waiting Priestesses were fine looking women as good and probably better that most he had seen in the streets of Dumis, where he came from.  But there were some who had no obvious particular beauty, who, he imagined, would have been unlikely to be earning a living as a prostitute in the backstreets of Dumis unless she were very poor.  Amongst these Pirionite ladies of the night there were evidently no such rules and he could have chosen a plain one just as well as a beauty.

     He surveyed their faces and felt drawn to most of them.   They looked at him but without any expression of disdain, as he imagined many whores of Dumis would have betrayed.  They seemed not to wish to compete for his attentions in any way.  However by their expressions they were friendly and encouraging.

     They reflected the racial variety of Pirion, which made them exotic.  Some were blonde headed, tall, and short, others were dark haired, slim and ample, while some were darker skinned, yellowed or brown, types who could not be found in any part of Vanmar although there were subject native peoples of many varieties in the colonies of the south and east.  He had considered choosing one of these exotic women, but felt that this time was not to be one of experimentation.  A lady looked at him, a face as beautiful as any he had ever seen, framed with long black hair.  Her skin was browned by the sun and naturally warm and golden he judged, but not as dark as some.  She was exotic too but of a type who could have passed as a Prancirian or Spalopian.  Her eyes were kind and she was as beautiful as he could imagine.  He had already paid his money so he must purchase the best for it would be long before he would come here again. 

     “Will you serve me?” he asked, politely as he had a good mother who always taught him respect.  He spoke the words his comrades had told him to say.  As he spoke to them he quaked with fear and excitement.  “Of course,” she had said, surprising him with the ordinary fluency of her language.  He had expected that he would have had difficulty communications with these foreign women as he had with the Pirionite men of the camps where he had been. 

     “Would you come with me?  I expect you wish for a private room.  Is that correct?”

      “Yes of course,” he mumbled thankfully.  As he followed her he noted the sway of her hips and the evenness of her shoulders.  He felt the eyes of the women upon him and was half ashamed of himself.  But hundreds of men had been this way before him and it was time he should join their ranks.

     And so he had observed the sudden nakedness of the woman as her gown had fallen from her shoulders.  Never had he seen anything so lovely.  She had been friendly talking to him in his own language to make him comfortable.  He felt himself to be transparent to her.  He was laid bare before her and he sensed that she could tell his fear and knew his cowardice in love.  Like all men who are unmarried he felt the shame of his lack of knowledge.  He did not yet understand all that was required of him in the act of love, although he had been told some of it.

     She had laid him down and laid her hands over every part of him, moulding his flesh and forming his frightened penis until it became big and she enveloped it with her mouth as her tongue explored it.  He had never felt such excitement, to see the most private possession of all enveloped within another’s body.  His excitement became strong and he sensed it would grow too strong before he could lay full claim to manhood.  She let him go and said, “You can do something for me also.”  And so he came to be licking and feeling her body all over in the way she had found for him and his penis burned with the desire to be buried inside her again, within her deepest place.