Chapter Three
“To the Nauciti about to complete your fifteen annums of training here at Duug Respodesa—as a Fa’loom, you will have many duties each day. And as you know, the core of who you are is to serve with utmost devotion the Sestra or Sestras who have chosen you. Although much has been said and written on the subject of how a Fa’loom should behave—all of which is valuable, of course—it is the experience of this writer that Fa’loom must keep these two things at the forefront of their minds to be successful—pay close attention and always do as you are told.”
—Fa’loom Bedein, 43 Annums Of Age, In A Missive To Final-Annum Nauciti, Annum 9,353
Toheri takes a deep breath, commanding his body to obey his will.
The Temptress conducting his final verbal assessment is doing her best to distract him—self-control is part of what she’s gauging—her hands dancing along his inner thighs, raining kisses along his bare collarbone.
“Whether you are chosen by a Keeper to serve only her and the other women in her dwelling if she so allows, or if you continue to live in a duug serving whichever Sestra requires your services that day, week, or annum, what are the three unbreakable tenets of service?”
Her name is Fillia. They’ve known one another since just past childhood, when she came to the duug to begin her training. She has been teasing him for annums, testing his resolve at every possible moment. As well as the resolve of other boys and young men at the duug.
Today, however, she has taken it further—her hands are slick with Sandalwood oil, her naked body pressed up against his. He wonders if all the Nauciti will be tested this intensely, or if she truly favors him. After all, her role as Temptress is to draw him irresistibly into what he is meant to avoid.
They are in her chambers, on her bed, which is soft as a cloud. Fillia reclines next to him, her curves pressed close.
But willpower has always been one of Toheri’s biggest strengths. Although his body instinctually responds to her, he controls his thoughts and responds with the correct answer.
“Consent, devotion, energy.”
“…and what do those three tenets imply?” She quires as she moves her hand higher, dipping under his loin-covering and running a fingertip lightly along his shaft.
“Consent,” Toheri began, voice steady even as small, delicious shivers ran through his body. “Only Sestras may grant it.”
Fillia hums in agreement, dragging her nails lightly up his inner thigh. “And if she does not?”
“Then it is not allowed,” he answers, breathing slow and even. “Each act of intimacy always requires consent—” He tenses as her hand wraps around him. “Unless explicitly stated otherwise.”
“Good,” she murmurs, a whisper against his collarbone.
The room is filled with scents of rich incense made from Palosona trees and floral bouquets strewn around the room. Everything is designed to dissolve his defenses.
“Only a Keeper—whether that be the Sestra who chose you, or the Ensheduana who have charge of you if still residing at the duug—may provide consent for a Fa’loom or servant to have intimate relations with someone other than them,” Toheri continues. “Consent is required for each instance of intimacy unless explicitly stated otherwise. Fa’loom have no right to deny intimacy to their Keeper, nor would we want to. Intimacy with a daughter of the Goddesses is a privilege to be cherished.”
“Indeed,” she breathes, her words floating over his skin like a welcome, cooling breeze on a warm day.
“Devotion. Sestras are made in the image of the Goddesses,” he continued, voice unwavering, even as her hand begins to move.
He has never been touched this way by a woman, and it becomes a bit of a struggle to concentrate on what he means to say.
But he is a vessel of discipline and obedience. He was built for this—devotion and respect have been woven into nearly every waking breath since he arrived at the duug as an infant.
If he succeeds in these final assessments, he will take his place among the honored Fa’loom. Be trusted to serve at the highest level, a privilege he’s been dreaming of his entire life—
“Men are made from women, and we would not be here without them. What male has the power to create life on his own, as women do? Because this is true, men—no matter whether they are Fa’loom or servant, serve Sestras with endless devotion as gratitude for being chosen to live…”
Fillia sighs, her mouth closing around his earlobe as she swings one leg over his thighs, pressing her warmth against him.
Goddesses—!!
He has to pull himself together. He is nearly sure the assessment is almost over. She has been peppering him with questions—and playing with him—for most of the afternoon.
One of the first things she’d had him demonstrate was how well he’d learned the art of oral pleasure. He’d lost count of how many times he’d brought her to completion.
Then she’d slid his fingers inside her… that test had lasted another hour, at least.
How much more can he take?
He knows she cannot be fully intimate with him. That’s the role of Ensheduana who run the duug. In his case, Mekna and Laionya.
Although, he won’t even get a chance with them if he isn’t successful this afternoon.
How he longs to raise his hips just slightly, slide into Filla’s wet warmth…
The instinct is there, but instinct is not purpose. This, too, is part of the test. He catalogs the sensations, noting how his body responds. He does not engage with the impulses. He simply observes, as if from outside himself.
He ignores heat of Fillia’s core against his thigh and continues.
“…Energy—every Fa’loom must manage his energy wisely. This includes caring for one’s body so as to serve without becoming exhausted, controlling one’s sensual energy—” his shaft is only half-erect, which pleases him as it indicates mastery over exactly that, given the circumstances he cannot quite believe it— “and directing all of one’s thoughts and attention to caring for the Sestra who has blessed you by choosing you to belong to her—whether for one night or many annums.”
His final rambling answer comes to a close, and Fillia leans back, her eyes sparkling with happy tears as she releases his shaft.
She climbs off him, reaches for a small length of soft cloth and rubs the oil from her hands as she speaks.
“Toheri, you did very well,” she says, turning to him with a grin.
“Did I do well enough?” Toheri asks, her heart catching. All these annums, his entire life rests on the answer—
“Of course,” Fillia replies. “I knew you would.”
There’s a lingering echo of sadness in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up and reaching for her hand. They lace their fingers together the way they used to as younglings.
She hesitates, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
“I’ve never regretted choosing the path of Temptress,” she begins. “Even at a young age, I knew that would be my role. But you, Toheri, almost make me want to give it up. Become just a Sestra, and claim you as mine. Be your Keeper.”
Toheri’s breath catches in his throat. He hesitates, unsure of what to say. He cannot ask her to give up her role for him. But Goddesses, perhaps he wants to—?!
He pushes the thought aside before it can fully form. Her needs, wants, desires—her path—is always priority. His path is only to serve. And what a joy it is, to serve and support.
He was born for this role, and Filla has chosen hers.
“Fillia, you honor me. And you would be a wonderful Keeper, if that was what you chose. But I know you. I could never ask you to give up what you feel is your calling,” he speaks as gently as possible, his heart cracking.
She has been one of his dearest friends since arriving at the duug. They have seen one another through—
Suddenly her face changes to one of delight and relief.
“Toheri!!” She exclaims. “You did it!” She throws her arms around him, squeezing him tight. Toheri is bewildered. What in Goddess’ name—?
“That was the final bit of the assessment, you dolt! You had to show you are selfless enough to respect what you know is my lifepath, as I’ve told you so many times,” she teased.
Toheri was briefly stunned into silence. So she didn’t want him—
Of course. She was just fulfilling her duties.
She truly was masterful in the role of Temptress.
Built for it.
There would come a time, depending on what happened over the next few days and weeks, when he might not ever see her again. He’d always known that could be the case. He gazed at her sweet, familiar face, a faint tendril of sorrow winding through his heart.
But no. There was more at hand that required his focus. He was so close to becoming a masterful vessel of service for the Goddesses.
“Ah, well then. I am glad that I—”
“I knew you’d put me first, Toheri. Never had any doubt,” she reassured him, patting his cheek. “You will do well with Laionya and Mekna. Since you passed this assessment, you will meet with them tomorrow. Have you planned the meal you will prepare at their dwelling?”
Toheri gathered his thoughts, adjusting quickly to the change in subject. Mental nimbleness was a course he’d struggled in at a younger age, but he’d made every effort to improve over the annums, and his hard work had paid off.
“Yes, I will gather the necessary items from the communal provisions as well as the Grovehold if required,” he replied as Fillia stepped away.
“Good,” she nodded as she moved towards the doorway. “What are you planning to prepare? And what are your plans for the aesthetic and sensory elements?”
And so he followed her from the room, describing in great detail how he would show honor to the Ensheduanas the following day.
~
Toheri leapt unhurriedly over the small burbling stream meandering through the main courtyard of the duug.
He was going to arrive exactly when he’d been told.
He held a sapling star jasmine plant he’d been nurturing for Ensheduana Laionya’s gently in one hand. He’d also made a necklace for Ensheduana Mekna out of a small piece of turquoise he’d found a few days prior, which was tucked into his waist-bag. The stone was a lucky find to be sure, as the meadows, forests and Groveholds of the duug had mostly long been emptied of their surface crystals. And of course, it was forbidden to dig for them.
He had dropped off everything needed for the meal he was to prepare—and the sensory experiences he had planned—at Mekna and Laionya’s dwelling earlier in the day.
The Ensheduana were, of course, still at rest when he had arrived that morning. Their Fa’loom had received the items on their behalf and assured him they would be stored appropriately until later in the day.
Toheri smiled, remembering Filla’s final words to him the previous day— “I know you’ll impress them, Toheri. You’ve worked exceedingly diligently for many annums. Simply remember what you’ve been taught and all will be well.”
The lush Groveholds of the duug were a source of comfort for Toheri, and he slowed his pace to enjoy them while he made his way along the path towards Ensheduana Mekna and Laionya’s dwelling. Like most residences in the duug, theirs was a curving structure created from pressed earth, with several large rooms for teaching, resting, eating, and gatherings, all around a central courtyard full of various types of vining, flowering, and food-producing plants.
The trees overhead dripped dew onto Toheri’s bare shoulders as he walked. He was trembling with anticipation. It was difficult to believe this day had finally come. Memories of his time with Fillia the afternoon before lingered in his mind, but he drew himself back to the present.
The most important moment of his life was about to happen. His heart was pounding. He swallowed several times as he approached his destination, reminding himself of all his annums of preparation and devotion. He had never slipped. And he would not fall today.
Laionya and Mekna were outside, laying on a bed of moss in a shaded nook near their dwelling. Both women were naked, and Mekna was licking the cleft between Laionya’s legs. One of her hands reached up to cup Laionya’s face, while the fingers of her other hand lightly circled one of Laionya’s nipples. Toheri paused to watch. After all, they knew he was coming, and they knew he always came when he was supposed to.
As he drew closer, Toheri saw Mekna’s tongue was moving at a slow and gentle pace. Laionya was flushed but still brimming with energy, so had probably not yet reached her first completion. Mekna switched from licking to lightly sucking, and moved her hand from Laionya’s face to between her legs, just barely inserting one slim finger.
Laionya gasped, her hips rising from the verdant moss.
Mekna didn’t falter from her place between her partner’s legs. Her mouth became drenched in Laionya’s pleasure, her finger sliding just a fraction deeper each time, until, so swiftly he almost missed it, she drew Liaonya’s entire cleft into her mouth as she slid two fingers fully inside her partner.
Liaonya screamed out with pleasure as Mekna continued her motions over and over and over until Laionya’s first completion finished, her body shuddering for several moments afterward as Mekna’s ministrations gradually slowed. Laionya’s liaspure, thighs, and the moss underneath her were drenched with creamy wetness.
Toheri watched as Mekna drew her fingers gently over each cheek until they dripped with fluid, then suckled each fingertip one by one, never breaking eye contact with Laionya as she did so.
Laionya trembled, her breath slowing as the last waves of pleasure subsided. Mekna, who still knelt between Laionya’s thighs, ran her hands slowly over her lover’s skin in worshipful precision. The two women held one another’s gaze for several long moments, their eyes telling stories of endless lifetimes.
Laionya lifted a hand—just the faintest movement of her fingers. Toheri obeyed without hesitation, moving closer to the two women. He set his gifts for them nearby, and knelt next to Mekna.
How lucky he was to be able to view the joining of two such sensual Goddesses. And to be their student—!
When he was sure it was appropriate, Toheri spoke.
“That was beautiful,” he said, reverence in his voice. “How may I be of service?”
~
A few hours later, Toheri was famished. The two Ensheduana had tested him thoroughly, and now the sun was setting.
Mekna and Laionya’s personal Fa’loom, a man named Yohim, served their evening meal, which he’d helped Toheri prepare.
Toheri had assumed both he and Yohim would serve the women, but Mekna had laughed and reminded him that tonight, he was an honored guest. So after he’d prepared the meal, he sat and tried to enjoy the privileges of the day while Yohim brought the three of them delicacies he had helped prepare.
“You did quite well this afternoon, Toheri,” Laionya said, cup of Fiera in hand. “With this delicious meal and your endurance testing.”
“Agreed,” Mekna added. “Your tongue is quite strong. You must have been practicing with your carved liaspure very diligently.”
“Yes, Ensheduana Mekna. Every night, as recommended,” he nodded, thinking briefly of another tool used to increase endurance, the strong yet yielding Shaktia, made from wood that seemed to meld around his varapos as he stroked in and out of the silken vessel.
“Good. And the techniques you used with your fingers—also well mastered. Did Temptress Jinghasa allow you inside her?” They teased, but Toheri had heard endless jokes about such things—crude comments from men who would never serve Goddesses at the level he hoped to.
“No, Ensheduana. Jinghasa and a few of the other Temptresses teased me endlessly, but never once did I give in,” he stated, thinking of his afternoon with Fillia just the day before.
“Very, very good. You’re one of only seven in this annum’s group of Nauciti at our duug who did not succumb to Jinghasa or one of the other Temptresses,” Laionya smiled.
“Only seven of us? Of the nine hundred?” Toheri was amazed. Yes, Fillia, Jinghasa and the other Temptresses were some of the most stunning women he’d ever seen, but all women are beautiful. All women are luscious, and nearly all women who enjoy being with men wanted him, or had, since he’d reached the age of consent the annum prior.
Saying no to the Temptresses at the duug was one of the final criteria all young Nauciti had to pass if they hoped to become a Fa’loom. He couldn’t believe so many had failed. He felt a twinge of contempt for them, though he knew he should feel compassion.
“Don’t worry, Toheri. There may only be seven from our duug, but there are several hundred more from the other nine. And perhaps our standards are higher than most. Or perhaps our Temptresses are more… tempting,” Laionya’s eyes held their familiar amused twinkle.
“Yes…” Toheri weakly agreed. What else could he say? He, who had craved—even if only for the briefest of moments—to belong to Fillia, be her Fa’loom, just the day before.
Mekna accepted another bowl of melon from Yohim, who was naked except for his habitual adornment of two precious azurestones hung from a leather cord wrapped several times around his waist. The stones dangled just about where his yezari would have been.
Toheri had seen him around the duug over the annums, of course. He was well endowed, a little bigger than Toheri, though he felt no jealousy about that. Some women liked bigger, some smaller.
Mekna, noticing Toheri watching, caressed Yohim, who had already been half aroused. Who would not be, around two such stunning women? Yohim was holding a tray of food, but kept it perfectly balanced as Mekna toyed with him.
Momentarily, she laughed and shooed him away, saying— “Toheri has satiated us for now. But we may want you later, sweet one.”
Toheri observed the whole interaction. He would need to know what to expect if he became an Fa’loom. Laionya caught his eye.
“Toheri, you look curious. What are you wondering about?” She asked.
The night was warm, as most nights are. Yohim had draped Mekna and Laionya loosely in thin, silken garments tied at the waist, and to Toheri, he’d given a half-garment of similar material.
Yohim was lucky—since he rarely left the duug, he almost never had to wear his full coverings.
Toheri, Mekna, and Laionya reclined on cushions leaning against the wall in an alcove at a low table lit by honey-wax candles in the courtyard. Countless stars and hundreds of lightening bugs added to the ambient glow.
Mekna and Laionya’s wings shimmered in the light, entrancing in their beauty. He’d always wondered—but no, now wouldn’t be the right time to ask what it was like to fly. He was here for one reason.
“Well, I— it seems as though—” he couldn’t verbalize his thoughts.
He paused and gathered himself. It would reflect better on him if he answered carefully, even if that took a moment. Mekna and Laionya waited, watched.
Presently, Toheri spoke again.
“Ensheduana, I was just wondering if, from your perspective, the main difference between a Fa’loom and a servant is that Fa’loom have more self-discipline. And that they are allowed to keep their varapos, of course,” he stated, speaking as plainly as he could.
They laughed. He was startled, and a bit nervous. But before he could become truly concerned, Mekna answered him.
“Young Toheri, if you are worried about losing your dangly bits, do not fear. You will get to keep that lovely strong snake between your legs, and perhaps your yezari, too. Both of them!”
The two women laughed, exchanging a loving glance as they did so. Yohim chose that moment to return with more food, his pleasing face blank of expression. The blue stones between his legs swayed gently on their leather cord as he walked.
Toheri wondered how old Yohim had been when his yezari were removed. Some boys had them taken at birth, but for others it was much later. It could even be done right up until Zaht’eve. Toheri’s upper thighs clenched, as if to protect his own yezari. He was rather fond of them, and hoped the Goddesses would allow him to keep them.
Mekna turned to Laionya, exchanging a glance.
“Now for some gossip,” she grinned. “Empress Thelyrah has cast aside one of her Fa’loom—the first one she ever chose, less than two annums ago—and rumor has it she’s seeking to add a fifth Fa’loom to her rotation.”
“I hadn’t heard that! It makes sense, though. She’s still quite young, and certainly has the stamina for that amount of partners. Who told you…?”
And they continued talking for some time about which Keepers were seeking new Fa’loom, which had decided they no longer wanted or needed one, and so forth.
Toheri did his best to keep up, running through names and lineages in his head as he listened.
Much later, after they’d finished the meal and bathed, the two women plied Toheri with a few spoonfuls of fermented honey, which he’d heard was much, much milder than Fiera, and thus suitable for men. It was at this moment they broke the news to him.
“Toheri, tonight we will conduct your final assessment,” Mekna stated.
Toheri was quite startled. ”You mean, earlier, when I pleasured you—”
They both offered gentle, yet amused, smiles. It was Mekna who replied.
“No, that was simply a warm-up. After all, you did not get to completion,” she replied. Toheri nearly gasped. He hadn’t known this was part of it—! Being inside two Ensheduanas—
“Laionya and I are going to our chambers. In a few moments, Yohim will come to you. He will prepare you, then bring you to us. You will pleasure and penetrate Laionya and I through the night and into the morning hours. You may not come to completion until we allow you to. If you succeed, you will very likely be chosen to participate in Zaht’eve in a few week’s time.”
Toheri sat, stunned into silence. This was happening now? Right now? What he’d been preparing his entire life for? He hadn’t thought he’d be allowed inside a Goddess until—
The women got up and made their way through the courtyard in the direction of what he assumed were their chambers.
He swallowed the rest of the spoonful of fermented honey and poured the last bit from the nearby jug into his mouth. Although he’d never imbibed before, he’d heard doing so could extend or even delay his climax. His thoughts ran wild as he swallowed the remains of sweet, runny fluid.
Yohim came back. He was still naked, and still half aroused. Toheri glanced at the other man’s snake, wondering if he was always that way. Some men were, he knew. Toheri himself was often hard, especially in the mornings. Then, he’d use his silken, oiled wooden liaspure to practice his endurance. But tonight, for the first time, he would be allowed to experience what a woman—a Goddess—truly felt like.
Jinghasa had once snuck into his room and put her mouth on him to try to tempt him. But he’d gently refused, as was right if he hoped to serve the Goddesses as a Fa’loom rather than a servant.
And now—! He could hardly contain himself. His annums of dedication to the way of the Goddess were about to to rewarded. He would pass this final assessment, and—
“Toheri, isn’t it?” Yohim asked, his handsome face made even more beautiful by his kind smile.
His teeth were quite white, and Toheri could tell he spent time taking care of himself. He’d added a few dark feathers (Toheri recognized them as likely having been shed by Mekna’s wings) to his hair for decoration, and lined some of his charcoal tattoos with gold-colored liquid that was popular with some servants and Fa’loom.
“Yes, I— thank you, Yohim, for serving us this evening.”
“I serve the Goddesses, and They have placed me here,” he replied.
“Indeed,” Toheri said, unable to verbalize more coherent reply.
“Since you are about to have your final assessment, that must mean you’ve never given into temptation. You’ve never been inside a woman?” Yohim asked.
“No, never,” Toheri replied, inhaling perhaps his deepest breath since birth.
“Be prepared. It will be the greatest pleasure you’ve ever had. Especially with these two,” Yohim grinned.
“You are indeed blessed to serve them,” Toheri acknowledged. Yohim nodded as he prepared something Toheri couldn’t see on the table next to him.
“Mekna is very tight inside, and she will squeeze you over and over. You’ll be crosseyed long before dawn. But Laionya… her murmurs and gasps do something to your soul. And she is always so wet. It drips down her thighs in rivulets.”
“Yes, I did notice that when I had my mouth on her earlier…”
“Of course, of course. Well. I believe you’ll pass their assessment. Remember your training and you’ll complete this task as you should,” Yohim encouraged.
“Thank you,” Toheri said, accepting Yohim’s help in removing the half-robe. His snake had heard the conversation and was awakening. Yohim nodded in approval, then brought out a jar of scented oil, which he began to rub on Toheri, starting on his back.
“Your scars… they’ve healed better than most,” Yohim murmured.
“Yes. The Ensheduana who cut off my wings must have had a steady hand, thank the Goddesses,” Toheri replied.
Yohim didn’t reply, but instead continued rubbing Toheri with the scent, which was presumably the favorite of Mekna, Laionya, or both.
“Turn around,” Yohim said when he’d finished Toheri’s back.
Toheri did, and Yohim knelt in front of him to apply the oil to his feet and legs.
Then he stood and applied oil to Toheri’s chest and arms, making his way back down. He slowed as he reached the juncture between Toheri’s thighs. Here, he gently nudged Toheri’s legs open a bit, and began rubbing the oil on both of his yezari. Then, his snake. Slowly, up and down. Toheri could feel Yohim’s own shaft lightly brushing his thigh.
“What—?”
Yohim immediately stopped.
“I’m so sorry. I’m priming you for them. They asked me to. You’ve practiced building tension with the other Nauciti of your age group, have you not?”
“Yes, I—“
“And so you are familiar with the touch of another man?”
“Yes, of course. We all help one another practice our endurance—”
“Oh, good. Alright then. May I continue?”
“Yes, please do. I just didn’t realize that’s what Mekna and Laionya meant when they said you would prepare me,” Toheri replied.
Yohim nodded and resumed stroking him, over and over, base to tip, until Toheri could barely hold in a groan.
“Control yourself, Toheri,” Yohim’s voice had a warning edge to it, and Toheri clenched his jaw.
Yohim continued the movements of his hands, tightening around him, moving a bit faster, building tension until Toheri knew he’d have to release—
But he did not. He thought instead, of Corestone. Of Empress Thelyrah, whom he’d never met or even seen. He thought of the toilet areas in the chambers of the Nauciti, and of all the times he’d had to process an animal for meat—but that was a bit much, so instead he thought of all the ways he could serve and honor the Goddess. Listed them one by one.
When he had himself under better control, he locked eyes with Yohim. He felt the last bits of his years as a Nauciti drain away, like a creek being consumed by the ocean. He felt himself becoming what he was always meant to be—a man like Yohim, strong, dedicated, unwavering.
He placed his hand on Yohim’s, never breaking eye contact. Together, they stroked Toheri’s shaft over and over, pulsing in unison, until finally Yohim broke away, sweaty and smiling.
“To exist is to serve. To serve is to exist,” Toheri said, reciting one of the better-known lines from the Sacred Ethos.
Yohim nodded, just once.
“Go to them, Toheri. You’re ready.”
And he was.
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