Unveiling the Sorceress

"Would it be suitable to do it here?” She indicated a long, low stone bench by the side of the pool.

He nodded.

"Will you need some oils, perhaps?” It was the woman called Amra who asked.

He nodded again, and Amra collected a pottery jug of almond oil from the shelves, delivered it to him and then left the two of them alone.

Elishiba unbelted her gown and let it slip to the floor. He felt the color rising in his cheeks and averted his face when she smiled at him. She lay down prone on the bench. He got to work as soon as she was in position, focusing on the job, his hands astutely learning her body, moving in slow strokes, to prepare her flesh for the deeper massage to come. He had been told he had a gifted touch and she appeared to be relaxing.

He was about to ask her if his touch was deep enough, when he heard a cough behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a plump, older woman by the door.

"Your father requests your company, mistress,” the woman said to the empress, but she smiled over at him as she did so.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Yoshi,” Elishiba murmured, looking over her shoulder.

Kerr's hands hovered in mid-air while he waited to see what would be expected of him.

"Alas, we must continue this another time, Kerr.” She sat up, giving him a gentle embrace and a kiss upon his cheek—both of which shocked him immensely—before picking up her gown and wandering away from the bench. She turned at the door, still trailing the gown from one hand, her naked body gleaming against the ornately embossed brass. “In fact, perhaps you could wait here for me to return?"

He nodded, focusing on her face, and she waved at him, smiling, as she slipped on her gown and left the room.

He sat on the edge of the stone bench, disconsolate, waiting. Her scent hung rich and mellow in the air. He rubbed his hands together and the almond oil gently dispersed itself on his palms. He loved the smell of it, the texture. Of all the oils he had been taught to work with in the seminary where he had grown up, he loved it most of all. It was slick but light and thirsty, drinking itself into the skin. He breathed deep.

"It was vanilla,” he whispered, answering the curious question that had been tickling at the back of his mind. She had been wearing vanilla. After a couple of minutes with his eyes fixed on the doorway, the last spot he had seen his new mistress, he began to glance around the room, looking at the bathing pool, the shelves of cosmetics, the carved dressing screen. On the other side of the pool, high up on the wall, three arched windows let the midday sunlight flood in. The whole room was light-soaked, from those windows, set so high.

A sound startled him: it was a delicate bracelet of laughter, two chuckles intertwined. He inclined his head and tried to capture the fleeting sound. Voices, soft feminine voices, whispering. It had to be the sisters.

Cautiously, he stood, following the sound to the doorway.

The door stood open, just as Elishiba had left it, and he paused at one side of it. T

he choice was entirely his, to pass into its opening, or stay behind it. He thought about it for a moment, feeling uneasy, and then slid behind the door, moving to the gap at its hinge. He peeped through the chink into the space beyond, into the empress's bedchamber.

He could see the long delicate veils of the curtains where they were pulled back along the head of the bed. Some two-thirds of the length of the bed was in his view, and, with it, the sight of the twin sisters, Elra and Amra, chatting together on the bed. Kerr shifted his position, and then drew back, focusing his eyes again. They must have forgotten he was still in there waiting. After a moment, he leaned forward to take another look.

The two women, so identical, presented a perfect image of dusky skin and burnished hair. He'd been trained in the seminary to observe a detail to distract from the whole, during his work, and so he tried to watch their hair, but his eyes drifted. One of them lifted her arms and hoisted her wisp of a gown over her head.

Shocked, he strained against the doorframe, resting his forehead against it, and shifted to gain a closer view. The women rolled across the bed, whispering and laughing. The naked woman gained the upper hand in a gentle play-fight, and crouched over her sister, pinning her down, the soft swells of her breasts swaying as her body moved enticingly.

He couldn't see the face of the woman beneath, but the one above was smiling, her face lit with delight. A sense of extreme longing had him firmly in its grip. His thoughts strayed away from the lessons he'd been taught, to an imagining that he was there, on the bed, a part of their affectionate games.

The dressed twin reached beside the bed and pulled a jeweled box close to them on the covers. From it, she drew out a long smooth object, a large crystal gem. She seemed to offer it to her sister. In the bright sunlight blazing in from the balcony beyond them, Kerr could see that it was a piece of rare amethyst, carved into the shape of a large phallus, fully erect and smooth in its length. Swollen wide and flat at the head, potent balls weighted it at its base.

The naked woman caressed it lovingly in her hand and thanked her sister, who was walking away and out of his field of vision.

Seeing the woman handle the object like that made him mutter to the gods under his breath. He pressed one hand hard against the thudding base of his own cocked phallus, his eyes closing.

A moment later, he heard a noise and scampering footsteps. His eyes flashed open, his breath caught in his chest. The woman had moved from her place on the bed. She was running directly at him, toward the bathing chamber. The amethyst was held aloft, her breasts bouncing gently as she ran. Instinctively, he tried to hide, squeezing himself behind the door and into the niche afforded by the door's hinges. He closed his eyes, trying to wish away the telltale bulge below his belt. He heard her naked feet whisper lightly across the flagstones and opened his eyes, cautiously.

She was standing beside the stone bench, faced away from him. She poured oil from the jug he had left standing there, running it over the carved phallus in her hand. She placed the jug down, a throaty chuckle in her voice as she ran the glistening object between her opulent breasts and over her nipples. Then she turned and ran from the room again.

She hadn't seen him.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief and took up his former viewing point, where he quickly found he couldn't maintain the position for long because of his extreme state of arousal. It was long enough to see her taking her place on the edge of the bed, facing his direction, and long enough to witness the gleaming head of the carved amethyst being pushed deep within her thighs. Long enough to see it disappear into the soft down surrounding her secret channel. Long enough to her hear pleasured gasps, and just long enough to see her lie back on the bed and manipulate the lucky object inside her secret flesh, thrusting it in and out with gusto. Then it was too much.

He drew back, turning away, but he couldn't help himself and had to remedy his own pain by taking matters into his own hands. Reaching beneath his tunic, he held and rubbed his phallus hard, erupting violently against his fingers moments later, his thighs shuddering under him just as the sound of her delighted moans and cry of release reached him.

His chest thudded and he struggled to gather himself and hide what he had done. When he'd removed the evidence and regained his composure, he sat down on the bench. Dropping his head, he rested his forehead on his hands, his mind awash with images of himself engaged in extreme debauchery with the twins, several years of careful training cast aside in a matter of moments.