Rapture E-Book

Nixie Fairfax

• Herausgeber: Nixie Fairfax
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Young virgin Ket finds her wildest dreams coming true when the subterranean community in which she dwells chooses her to become the new bride of Molg, the earthen god whom they worship. Though proud and honored to be chosen, she isn’t prepared for the hulking, inhuman form Molg takes to mate with her. He’s frighteningly big in more ways than one, and Ket can tell that her union with the god will bring her unimaginable rapture…if it doesn’t destroy her first.

Leseprobe

Rapture

By Nixie Fairfax

Copyright 2022 by Nixie Fairfax

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for adults only. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

After the final words of the ceremonial prayers had been uttered, after the hushed syllables had melted away into a vast and pregnant silence, Ket slowly, shyly, lifted her gaze from the front edge of the prayer mat on which she knelt and looked at the Molgstone before her. It was a mass of dark-gray stone nearly as big as she was, its surface covered with sinuous, overlapping ridges, its once-viscous substance frozen in the act of flowing.

Him. It was Him. A piece of Him at any rate. All things were, of course, but this had congealed from His raw, burning ichor barely three months ago, and his fiery essence was still fresh and strong within it. Every year, Andra’s two priests and twelve of its strongest men would venture down to the Fire Caves where His blood flowed openly in a smoking, molten river and where gobbets of it would sometimes separate from the sludgily moving stream and slowly clot and cool and harden into stone, His flesh, the very substance of the world. The priests would select the finest of these new-formed stones, and the men would tow it on a sledge back to Andra amid great celebration to replace the previous year’s stone. A member of the festive crowd, Ket had watched the latest Molgstone’s arrival and its installment in the temple’s sanctuary, never once suspecting the fate that would soon be hers or that she might be here like this, alone with it. With Him.

She stared at the stone in silence, her eyes tracing its somehow organic curves and ridges. Her heart was beating very hard. The scent of dried and crushed grabber rinds filled the room, musky and strong. Made from the outer layers of the huge, semi-sentient puffballs whose sticky secretions could prove fatal to the unwary, this potent aromatic was burned only on the most important ceremonial occasions. Ket wasn’t used to it. It left her a little light-headed and made her nostrils tingle in a peculiar yet strangely pleasant way.

She glanced over her shoulder at the curtain of multicolored beads in the sanctuary’s doorway. There was no sign of the priestesses. Not yet.

Heart beating harder, Ket leaned toward the Molgstone and extended a hand, the rustle of her gown sounding almost impiously loud in the silence. She wasn’t sure if it was permitted to touch the stone. But if anyone had a right to do it, it was she. His chosen one. His bride.

Her hand paused an inch from the hard gray surface, hovered there an instant, then suddenly, boldly, closed the gap and settled on the holy stone.

She drew in a sharp breath. Though it had been months since the stone was taken from the Caves, it was still warm, as warm as a living body. It was a sign that His essence, His power, still inhered in the stone. As she kept her palm pressed to the stone, His warmth seemed to spread through her, suffusing her hand, flowing up her arm, filling her entire body, every nook, every crevice. She suddenly felt flushed, more light-headed than ever. Her lips parted in a soft gasp and—

There was a complex rattle of beads behind her. Heart jumping, Ket whisked her hand from the stone and looked around.

Andra’s two priestesses, Besh and Ten, had entered the sanctuary. Priestess Besh was a large, solidly built middle-aged woman upon whose coif was the circlet of crystal that marked her as the senior priestess. Priestess Ten, who was still quite young, only a few years older than Ket herself, held a small lamp made from the shell of a lava beetle, the open flame’s radiance overpowering the dimmer light of the glow stones situated around the sanctuary and bathing the room in warm yellow-orange hues. Like Ket, both of them wore iridescent silver-green robes made from the skins of giant lizards, a special ceremonial garment quite distinct from the people’s normal, plainer attire woven from the fibers of certain giant fungi farmed in the Upper Grots. If the two priestesses had seen Ket touching the stone or found anything untoward about it, they gave no sign.

“It’s time,” Priestess Besh said gently.

With a last glance at the Molgstone, whose warmth still seemed to linger in her palm, Ket stood up and joined the two women. Priestess Besh looked her over, adjusted the collar of her gown, brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, then gave a nod and a small, approving smile. Though Ket had felt sure that nothing could quell her pounding heart or the nervous tremors within her, she found that the older woman’s calm, motherly bearing and gentle smile reassured her, at least a little. She was grateful for the bonds that had developed between her and the priestesses during the otherwise lonely period of her month-long ritual sequestration in the temple. No doubt that was one of the many reasons for the procedure: To forge a relationship between the Molgwife and her priestesses. It was important that they be on good terms. From now on, the priestesses would be closer to Ket than her own family, her own friends. Indeed, in a very real sense, they would be her family and friends, as well as nurses, aids, and guardians all rolled into one.

With Priestess Ten in front with the lamp, the trio made their way through the temple to the great rear door that led to the sacred route. As they went, the sound of the crowd outside swelled from a nearly inaudible murmur to a muffled chatter and then, as Priestess Besh turned the stone door upon its pivot and revealed Ket to the crowd, to an almost deafening cheer that resounded through Andra’s main cavern like the crash of a cave-in and sent startled shadow bats fluttering frantically around the massive stalactites overhead.

As Ket followed the priestesses out onto the portico, she was stunned to see the crowd’s size. It filled the plaza at the foot of the temple’s basalt stairway and spilled into the adjoining avenues. Ket hadn’t imagined there were this many people in Andra. While she had, of course, been part of the crowd herself at festivals and other gatherings, she had never seen it from high above like this. The sight of everyone gathered together and the sound of their joyous paeans made her breath hitch in her chest and forced her to blink back sudden tears.

And then the view was blocked by Chief Ruk and his two priests, Pran and Math. The trio had been waiting to one side of the doorway, and now they stepped forward to bless the new Molgwife before her sacred union with the great god.