Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of Desire Chapter 69: Empty Shelves Chapter 70: Darkness and Light Chapter 71: The Love of Men Chapter 72: The Cursed Ones Chapter 73: Hiding Places Chapter 74: Old Men's Tales Chapter 75: False Prophecies Chapter 76: The Lord Prince Radu Chapter 77: Love Becomes Life Chapter 78: Mistress and Mother Chapter 79: A Test of Strength Chapter 80: The Strigoi-Viu Cometh Chapter 81: Scraps from the Table Chapter 82: A Fool's Errand Chapter 83: The Little Ghost Chapter 84: Stolen Honeycakes Chapter 85: Breathe Chapter 86: Beneath the Palace Chapter 87: Red Pebbles Chapter 88: Common Men Chapter 89: Love and Duty Chapter 90: Nightmares Chapter 91: Earth and Sun Chapter 92: Love and Creation Chapter 93: Until My Last Breath Chapter 94: Fruit and Flower Chapter 95: Two Days Chapter 96: Small Comforts Chapter 97: Heroes Chapter 98: Fire, Water, and Wax Chapter 99: Beneath the Temple Chapter 100: the Way of EaglesChapter 25: Wild Rose
Nasreen’s sedative began to take effect. The tightness between her shoulders dissipated. Bland tiredness took its place. She hated the numbness when it came, but she understood from experience why it was needed. Nasreen never questioned her purpose or time spent in service to the Goddess. As her mother told her, If it is, it is Her will.
An hour passed. Men came and went. Nasreen remained unused. She was almost asleep from the herb-laced wine she had ingested when she realized there was a man standing in front of her.
“How much?” he asked the Procuress. Nasreen recognized the almost musical nature of his accent.
A desert dweller?
“Because you bear the rank of Prince, my Lord Takri, any woman here is yours for the taking. The God-Among-Men is generous to those he deems worthy,” recited the Procuress, bowing low before the young man. “I will show you to a room where you may enjoy her in peace. May Mahleck take pleasure in your pleasure.”
Nasreen kept her eyes looking at the floor. Had the stories been false? Before the Swarm had made its way to the gates of Adyll, stories had returned with Adyll’s soldiers that the desert tribes had been destroyed, no survivors other than the Princess Lilua who was now held in the Palace. The Narim were a proud race who bowed to no one. For one of them to be here in Adyll was unfathomable. For that one to also be of the rank of Prince in the Locust King’s court...?
She followed the Procuress to the room, followed by the prince. Her eyes remained downcast, even under her veil. When they reached the door and Nasreen was inside the small windowless room, the Procuress handed the prince a key.
“You may lock the door behind you and do with her as you wish. Her purpose is only to serve you. No desire of yours will be left unfilled.” She turned and left the room. He locked the door behind her. Nasreen and the young man were alone.
An oil lamp spilled light across the room, illuminating a bed on one side. The customary wall tapestries illustrating the Lady's trysts with her various lovers were gone, leaving the walls bare of decoration. Opposite the bed a post was set into the floor with shackles hanging from near the top. A chest was set at the foot of the bed, painted red and black with the sign of the locust on its lid. Nasreen hoped he wouldn’t open it. It contained instruments of torture. Most men did not use them, but there were some who could not enjoy the joining without them. Nasreen stood in the center of the room with her head lowered in a pose of submission.
“Take off your veil so that I can see your eyes, little one,” said the prince.
“It is forbidden,” whispered Nasreen.
“So, you do have a voice? I was beginning to wonder!” he said, laughing. “Is it forbidden if I lift it?” He pulled back the veil, and lifted Nasreen’s chin in his hand. The veil fell around her feet. She kept her eyes averted from his. To look a man in his eyes was punishable by whipping, or in the worst cases, blinding.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Nasreen.”
“Nasreen… Like the wild rose that grows in the canyons of your mountains. Little rose, do not be afraid. I don’t desire to hurt you, though I see others have.” He ran the back of his hand down her neck, gently grazing the week-old bruises that her curling black hair had not yet grown long enough to hide. “I am Takri, and I am no prince. Here with you, I am just a man, and I want to pleasure you, to honor you, to join with you.” His lips followed the path of his hand, kissing each place where she had been hurt. “The men of my people do not disgrace themselves by hurting women.”
“I am only here to serve you,” said Nasreen, glancing up at his face. He was about the same age as she was, and a full head taller. His hair was cropped short and black in color – the same color as his hooded eyes. She could not tell where his pupils began or ended. She took in a quick breath, and turned her eyes downward again. She stepped back from him. Keeping her eyes averted she picked up the bottle of oil from the floor next to the bed.
“My father told me of this place. He told me when I was old enough and responsible enough to learn the ways of being with a woman, he would bring me here. He told me when a man is with a woman she becomes like a goddess. These things are sacred. I know now these things are different, and that Mahleck has decreed that all women are evil seductresses. But I want what my father told me about. I want you to serve as a holy goddess.”
“My Prince Takri, do not speak like this. It frightens me,” whispered Nasreen.
“If you do not wish to be with me, you do not need to. We can wait and pretend,” he said. “How long do these things usually take? A few hours?”
Nasreen covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. No matter what sweet words he spoke, he still had every right to kill her for sport. How did she manage to be picked by this young, handsome man who had never experienced the joining? This was part of her calling to serve The Lady. To serve as teacher for any who wished to learn.
As she walked back towards him, she could feel the place between her legs becoming wet. She had not felt any desire in so long, it frightened her. He looked at her with genuine longing.
“It can take as long as you would like, my Prince Takri,” she said. “Would you like for me to undress you?”
He nodded. She unlaced his leather jerkin and helped him pull it over his head. He bent his head and his mouth found hers, gently opening as hers did. She darted her tongue inside his mouth, and then pulled away. He let her go.
“Sit down on the bed, my Prince,” she said, her eyes still downcast. He sat and she pulled his boots off, then began unlacing his breeches where she could feel the length of his erection under the thick material. When she pulled them off his member sprang free, jerking a bit. The place between her legs started to tingle. His body was muscular and hard, lean from a life in the desert camp and hardened even further by a year under the harsh treatment of the Swarm.
“If my Prince will lay down, I can massage you with scented oil,” said Nasreen. “Many men find this pleasurable.”
He lay back. She poured some of the rose scented oil into her hands and stood behind the head of the bed so that she could reach his shoulders and neck. She planned to make this encounter last for as long as possible. She began massaging the muscles of his neck and shoulders with lengthening strokes. He sighed.
“Nasreen, could I do the same for you?” he asked.
She continued kneading his muscles. “I am here to serve you, my Prince.”
“Then I want to rub oil on your body and enjoy the feel of you beneath my hands. I want to give you as much pleasure as you give me.” Takri stood and motioned to her to lay down. She complied, laying on her back and closing her eyes. She felt his oiled hands glide up her neck, and then down again to her shoulders, down her arms. The warm scent of his body and the smell of the oil mixed in the air as his hands glided down her chest to her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and erect as his thumbs circled them. She inhaled sharply. He withdrew his hands immediately.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No, this is most pleasurable, my Prince. I merely gasped in passion.”
He smiled, and Nasreen wished this moment would go on forever. It had been so long since she had felt even remotely aroused, and this man had done more to make her feel like the priestess she was than she had ever felt in her life. This was her purpose.
He continued down her body, caressing her but carefully avoiding the triangle of hair at the base of her torso. When his hand rubbed down her thighs, and back up the inside of them a moan escaped from Nasreen’s lips, and her hips bucked forward towards his hand.
“Please…” she whispered. “Touch me there… Please.”
She felt truly alive for the first time in her memory. Shocks of pleasure coursed through her body before his hand even cupped the wet place between her legs. The fog in her mind and the numbness from the anesthetic lifted. As his fingers slipped into her folds she climaxed, harder than she ever had before. Writhing in its divine intensity she screamed out in joy. She sat up, wrapping her arms around Takri. Her breath came in short gasps as her hips rocked against his hand. He had not even penetrated her, and yet she had never felt so fulfilled.
When she caught her breath, she realized he was whispering soothing words in the desert dialect into her ear while he stroked her hair. She pushed him back on the bed and straddled him, no longer submissive. She felt empowered, as if she herself was the Goddess, taking and giving pleasure with Her Beloved. She grasped his member in her hand. He immediately released his seed, shooting semen across her body. She kept her hand around his member, milking it as he came. It only softened for a moment before he became hard again.
Takri reached up and dragged her face down to kiss her hard on the mouth. His tongue darted into her mouth, reigniting the fire between her legs. She pushed herself back again, lifted her hips and impaled herself slowly upon his member. She felt him reach the entry to her womb. He moaned, pulling her forward to take her nipple in his mouth as she rocked her hips back and forth. She slid up and down as she opened to take him deeper. He matched her thrusts, his hands grasping her hips. Pushing and pulling in the ancient rhythm of female and male. She cried out as the pulsing began inside her again, and his member matched that heartbeat as he filled her.
“Truly the Goddess is not dead, wildest of mountain roses,” Takri whispered in her ear. “She lives within you and within us in this holy joining of bodies. She has not forsaken her children. Thank you.”
“We must not speak of the old ways, my Prince.” Nasreen returned to her demure self, even as she still felt the divine energy from their lovemaking within her. She stood from the bed, and knelt in front of him on the floor, pulling out the basin of water and towels from under the bed. “I shall bathe you before you take your leave.”
“Only if you bathe with me and then rejoin me. I do not plan on leaving you until the night is over. The thought of you being with another man who might hurt you after this holy joining makes me feel ill. I shall have food and wine brought. We shall enjoy what time we have before I must appear before the strigoi-viu.”
They spent the afternoon and evening wrapped in each other’s bodies, joining and releasing until the Procuress informed Takri that he must leave if he was to be at the Palace before curfew. Nasreen returned to her bed in the women's dormitory, her mind and body soothed knowing that she had served The Lady through joining body and soul with this desert dweller.
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