Pagan Rite

You think you have hidden

your faint smile of satisfaction

as I come to you....

stand in the spot you have indicated.

But I see it.

I understand it.

I will do what I must.

My body glows pale and pink

in the faint light of this room...

this chamber of the High King.

You tell me to dance

and the sensuous skin

of my beckoning body

begins to move like a river

of music and brushstrokes.

The colors are perfect

and feminine

and powerful.

They paint a goddess,

THE Goddess.

My fingers caress you

everywhere that the High King commands....

your collarbone,

your back just above your waist,

your buttock at that spot where it joins your legs.

I spin away and perform my fecund dance with joy and temptation

knowing that you see

the wetness of the curls between my legs...

the few faint diamond drops decorating my inner thighs.

The music moves faster

as I dance my fingers over my soft, round body

showing you what worship the Goddess

requires,

deserves.

Your manhood is erect

and majestic....

How else would the High King display himself?

I take you in my holy mouth

licking,

sucking,

laving you with my sweetness

until I bring your body to such orgasm

that your lordly posture is no more.

I rise slowly,

put my hand on your face,

know in that moment

that the High King will never even speak my name.

The Goddess arises within.

I turn,

gather light around me like a cloak,

and vanish

leaving the High King in total darkness.