The Maiden-Mothers of Haverach, Part 1 [ff] [anal] [oral] [preg] [weird] [fantasy]

Kate's phone droned twice in her handbag, urgent and insistent. She took her gaze from the road for all of a second. Her bag chose just that moment to come adrift from its place on her passenger seat, rolling up the seat-back like a thing alive. Her glowing phone and sundry other personal effects spilled weightlessly from the bag's open zipper. The horizon beyond the passenger window rotated with ponderous slowness, the bright morning sky and the dark of the Dakota hills exchanging places twice. Her engine keened like a wounded animal so she eased her foot off the gas. Somewhere glass shattered. Before she had quite realised her mistake she was subsumed in darkness.

Kate woke with a hypnic jerk, the sudden sensation of falling that causes sleepers to reel from the edge of dreaming. She gasped for breath, arching her spine and kicking her legs. She threw out her arms as if to halt her fall. She expected to feel her bed, or even the ceiling of her car, but the floor beneath her was naught but cold, dewy stone.

She found herself in a cramped circular room, with a low domed ceiling of pale stone slabs crusted with nitre along their joins. The room was lit orange by a single sputtering oil-lamp that had blackened the stone above it; the air was thick with the oil's cloying perfume. The floor was inlaid with concentric rings of some dark metal, joined here and there by radial spurs and rough welds, colonised by verdigris, icy against her bare legs. The room had no window, only a very narrow doorway blocked by neither door nor bar. She screamed; the sound returned to her thrice from beyond that dark portal, distant and tinny.

She stood with some difficulty, using the walls to balance. Her coffee-shop uniform had somehow disappeared, replaced by an unfamiliar singlet of slippery black silk that barely reached her thighs. She touched her face; her thick-rimmed glasses were gone, which perhaps made her feel more nude than anything else, but she found that she could see quite well without them. Her limbs felt sore and enfeebled, like she had not moved in a very long time. When she had gathered sufficient fractions of her strength and wits she took the oil-lamp from its stone perch and extended it out of the doorway. It shed light on the floor beyond the door, revealing a worn mosaic of foreign glyphs. She squeezed through the doorway, which was just wide enough for a girl of her slight frame.

Beyond Kate's cell was a vast space with a high ceiling held aloft by huge pillars and arches, lit here and there by the dun glow of dangling censers. She took a few tentative steps towards the nearest pillar, her padding footfalls as loud as whip-cracks against the heavy silence. She moved from pillar to pillar in search of some exit, or a window, or even another wall to give her some sense of the scale of the place.

As she rounded a pillar she discovered a masked man crouched in the darkness. She let out another scream, her legs almost failing her.

"Girl," asked the masked man, "where are you off to?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know where I'm going, I don't know where I am." She pulled her singlet down as far as she could, hugging an arm across her breasts. “Is this a dream?”

"Isn't everything?" He unfolded nimbly from his crouch. He was tall and very wide-shouldered, with oddly long arms and fingers, wearing a three-pointed hat and dark clothes that seemed to grow as a continuous layer of living cloth from the rim of his black mesh mask. "This is the Mating Hall, in the heart of Old Haverach. The Mouthless Choir called and you were sent in answer. You have the honor of serving the Father now, as countless others have done before you. What else is there to know?"

She backed away from the pillar. "Serve…the Father?"

"Serve, indeed. As Maiden-Mother." The masked man reached her in a single effortless stride, then reached for the hem of her singlet and hiked it over her hip, revealing her tuft of fine public hair. "You have eschewed the touch of man, have you not?" He ran a fingertip across her belly. "You need not answer. You reek of maidenhood. Did you have any idea who you were saving yourself for, Kate?

“You preserved yourself for the Father. He who stalks this great hall. Your perfume will have reached him by now; he draws near as we speak. The alcove you so quickly abandoned is meant as a place of respite, a kindness, for your flesh will tire long before his; the door is too small for him, and his longest arms cannot reach you while you press yourself against the far wall. But I would not dally there, for you serve Haverach by making yourself available to the Father, and Haverach will punish resistance, just as Haverach will reward good service with greater and greater kindnesses. The second kindness is water, which you will find flowing in the alcove already."

Kate could only cover her mouth in horror. "Oh God," she whispered.

"Oh, Kate. Your god gave you up in tribute to the Choir. You are now quite beyond his reach. Go now–wander the Mating Hall to meet the Father, or return to your alcove until you feel ready. I am evermore your servant; if you need me you need only earn my name." The masked man spun on his heels and crouched as if startled by some inaudible sound, then ran nimble and soundless into the shadows.

Kate fought an urge to collapse in tears. She slowly retraced her steps to her alcove, running the last stretch to avoid the unseen horror that she imagined just behind her. She squeezed back to safety. Water dripped from a slot in the stone of the dome, splashing on the floor and escaping down a lime-encrusted grate. She cupped some in her hands and put it to her dry lips; it was warm, but otherwise sweet and clear. She drank her fill, and while drinking she failed to discern the rustle of skin-on-stone by her door. She was surprised to find a girl standing before her when she turned. Kate let out a whelp and pressed her back against the wall.

“Where are you from?” asked the girl, just as naturally as if they had been talking for hours. She was five feet tall at most, small and slender and naked but for an ornate leather collar that was fitted to the contours of her small neck. Her skin was the color of a speckled red apple, and her large eyes were gold and lacked pupils of any kind. Her hair was cropped short and smoothed back from a pronounced widow’s-peak, some luminous variety of blonde. Her belly was taut and muscular; her smooth red legs ended in narrow feet with pronounced arches and two clawed toes each. “I am Yewet-Najar,” she said, “once of Clistophen, now of Haverach.”

“I’m Kate. Kate Burns, of South Dakota. Of Earth.”

“Now of Haverach,” said Yewet.

“What is this place?” asked Kate, still pressed against the cool stone as though she might sink through it and escape. “Am I dead? Is this hell?”

Yewet knitted her brows. “How can you be dead if you are standing here with me? The Mating Hall is a place for fertile flesh. The dead do not walk here any more than they do anywhere else. And I do not know of this ‘hell’.”

The girl took a step forward, reaching a two-fingered hand towards Kate’s arm. Kate flinched at her touch. “We are as sisters now,” said Yewet. “First we serve the Father, but we may serve each other, and offer comfort when it is needed.” She moved closer. Kate could smell the strange sweetness of her breath, and feel the heat radiating from her skin.

“You are cold,” said Yewet. “My blood runs hot, see?” She pressed her head against Kate’s chest, slipping her arms under the hem of her singlet and wrapping them around her back. Kate could only let out a tiny ‘oh!’ as Yewet’s hands worked around to explore her breasts. The girl’s hair smelled of sandalwood and wood-smoke and something distant and ancient that Kate discovered she had missed all her days. “Do not fear,” she whispered. “We are not rivals for his affection. He is no mere man; you will soon see that his love is infinite. And look, your breasts are so full, your skin is so smooth! I doubt a scrawny creature like me could even compete!” She laughed and raised her small mouth for a kiss. Kate found herself returning the kiss as if under some intoxicating spell, quite unable to resist. The girl’s kiss was hot as fresh-brewed tea, and her tongue was very long and rough, tapering to a nimble point. Kate caught herself wondering how that tongue would feel elsewhere, and felt her skin flush with her own heat. Yewet pulled her to the floor and straddled her, lips still locked on hers. She reached a hand between Kate’s legs and Kate raised her hips to meet it.

“Oh,” said Yewet. “Oh, you are well slickened!” Yewet pulled aside the strap of Kate’s singlet, exposing her round breast, and she fixed her mouth over Kate’s small pink nipple, rolling her tongue over it. Kate moaned, helpless. She cupped her own hands over the strange girl’s small hard breasts, feeling her large nipples grow against her palms. The girl let out a giggle, then manouvered nimbly until she was facing the other way, presenting her backside and a triad of small hairless folds between her legs that Kate took to be her private parts. Kate touched a finger to the folds they blossomed like a perfect three-petaled flower, the insides a pale pink, sticky with fine cords of the girl’s hot wetness, steaming gently in the clammy air. In the middle of this strange bloom was a small hole attended by three fleshy bumps that Kate took to be some analog of her own clitoris. She rubbed them gently and the girl moaned, grinding into her hands, then lowering herself over Kate’s waiting face. Her prehensile petals spread over Kate’s cheeks and under her chin, hot almost to the point of being intolerably so, and the sweet smell of her filled Kate’s world. Kate put out her tongue and the girl shuddered, grasping Kate’s legs, forcing her knees apart and plunging her head between them to return the favor.

“You are quite different,” said Yewet, panting softly. “I assume that this is your kala-prist.” Kate felt a searing tongue explore the folds of her clitoral hood. She would have let out a yelp but her mouth was quite secured in place by Yewet’s sticky petals.

She was overcome, then, with a sense of disbelief mixed with complete abandon; some small part of her wondered if it was a base animal response to something the girl exuded, or if the girl’s eagerness had simply pushed her over the edge, and a readiness for this wanton abandon had been in her all along. She wanted to grind herself into this strange girl and grind this strange girl into her and somehow become one. Yewet’s tongue worked her clitoris and she worked the girl’s bumps in return. Yewet’s trembling hole began to extrude some hot, thin fluid that tasted for all the world like liquid candy-floss.

Yewet laughed. “Drink deep,” she said. “That doesn’t happen every time. What of you–do you have something for me?” She put her lips against Kate’s maiden hole and ran her tongue around it. “Wait,” she said. “Of course! You have a kala-shem here, still intact. Oh, that is a prize for the Father alone! I would plunge my tongue into your most secret depths, Kate Burns, but not before the Father. The kala-shem is his to breach.”

“Do it,” said Kate. “Do it now. Fill me. Fill me.”

“No, sweet sister,” said Yewet. “But what is this?” Her tongue probed lower. Kate tried to close her legs but the girl kept them pried open, her arms quite extraordinarily strong. “Oh, you have two holes! How unique!” Yewet’s tongue worked at Kate’s clenched ass. “Open up for me, little thing.”

“No,” said Kate. “No, that’s dirty. That’s dirty.”

Yewet ignored her pleas. Her slick tapered tongue forced its way into Kate’s anus, widening as the full length of it explored her. Kate’s resolve weakened and she felt herself relax. Yewet’s tongue snaked around inside her, rasping wetly at depths Kate didn’t know she had. She felt full like never before. She wanted nothing more then than to have her vagina full in the same way, but the fingers working her clitoris pushed her over the edge anyhow, and she came hard and loud, spasming and clenching and spasming again. Yewet ground all the harder on Kate’s face in response, and she felt her small hole pinch shut around the tip of her tongue and yawn open rhythmically, until finally the red-skinned girl withdrew her snakelike probe from Kate’s ass and arched her muscular back to let out a piercing howl. She turned then, and collapsed on top of Kate, her head pressed against Kate’s breast. “It’s not dirty,” she said, softly. “It’s like pergoraphim, the drippings of the gods. Are they all like you in Dakota?”

“I don’t know,” said Kate. “I’ve never been with anyone, not like this.”

“What a prize you are,” said Yewet, who quickly fell asleep. Kate found herself drifting off with her, and the sound of dripping water with the hardness of the floor beneath her made her think of camping at home, and for a moment she felt something like comfort.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3fwps9/the_maidenmothers_of_haverach_part_1_ff_anal_oral