Just one more goodbye

After finishing painting Leora from head to toe with cum and saying goodbye to Iomenes, Dareios had returned to his chambers and retrieved his red cloak. The rest of his meagre possessions that he was planning to bring with him were already packed, but he didn’t have need of them yet. There was one more goodbye that he wanted to say, and it had brought him to one of the ritual chambers in Klyra’s temple. A complex of buildings made primarily out of marble, granite and sandstone, Klyra’s temple had originally been located close to that of Teitum, and the close relationship between the two temples was mirrored in how the temples had expanded towards each other until it became impossible to tell where one ended and the other started. As he had made his way from his chamber in the templar’s quarters in Teitum’s temple to the ritual chambers of Klyra’s, at no point had Dareios had to step out into the open, instead walking down one winding, airy corridor after another.

“Hello mom,” Dareios smiled at the fortyish woman standing with her back to him only a couple of yards away when he entered the rounded chamber. Unlike him, she was completely naked, and as she turned around to greet him with a smile, he couldn’t help but notice that her face, her tits, her stomach, her pussy and her thighs were all doused with girlcum that made her bronzed skin glisten in the light of the oil lamps.

“Dareios!” Abandoning the woman on her hands and knees in front of her, oiled-up and with a gold-chain appearing out of her anus from which a ring made from the same material was dangling, Dareios’ mother, Hera, hurried over to her son and embraced him.

“You’re still going to leave us?” Hera had no intention of beating around the bush, instead heading straight the most pressing topic of conversation and not bothering to hide the worried frown that came over her at the thought of her son venturing out into the wider world on his own.

“Yes, mom, I am,” Dareios replied, both exasperated and touched by her obvious concern for his wellbeing. It was the prerogative of mothers everywhere to worry about their sons, even if said sons were six and a half feet tall, ripped with bulging muscles and in the habit of walking through life with a giant sword strapped to their backs.

“I guess your looks weren’t the only thing you inherited from your father,” Hera remarked, sighing as she stroked her son’s cheek. She, like most Arakanians, had dark hair, black in her case, and slightly darker skin than her son, who instead got his blonde hair and fairer, if still richly tanned, skin from his father, a warrior from the far-off Heimarike who had made his way south and ended up fathering a boy with a priestess of Klyra.

“Mom…” Dareios said, his tone reflecting that he didn’t know whether or not to plead with her not to bring up the subject of him leaving, or flatly tell her not to.

“I know, I know,” Dareios’ mother smiled sheepishly for a moment, then readopted her usual formidable expression, “You promise you’ll be safe, alright?”

“I promise,” Dareios replied.

“Looks like I caught you in the middle of something,” Dareios said, adding a friendly “Hello, Falah,” to the blonde who were on her hands and knees in the middle of the room. As was the case with him, her appearance was a testament to the Arakanians no longer being as isolationistic as they’d been generations ago, before the cults of the new gods had saved their society in the wake of the great disasters that befallen it.

“Hi, Dareios,” Falah, a few years younger than Dareios’ mother and every bit as well-preserved, quickly lifted one hand off the floor for just long enough to wave at him.

“A farmer asked us to bless his field,” Hera explained, “I was just about to go find one of you templars to help finish preparing the ritual when you showed up. Do you want to help out with this part? If you have time for it, I mean…”

“Of course, mom,” Dareios grinned and took a step back, removing his cloak. Glancing at her son’s cock with a mixture of maternal pride, yearning thoughts of his father and the frustrated question why it had to be her son that was hung like that, Hera sauntered back to Falah and dropped onto her knees, threading one finger through the golden ring dangling underneath the blonde’s full, firm asscheeks and began to pull. One after the other, the six stylized gold acorns, each the size of a large plum and all of them strung onto the gold chain with a few inches between them, came slipping back out Falah’s back door, and the mature priestess squirted a little when the final one popped out of her ringpiece.

“There,” Wrapping the gold chain around her right wrist, Hera made sure to run her hand up the length of Falah’s slit, and licked her fingers clean of the blonde’s juices while getting back up on her feet, smacking her lips before continuing with what she had to say, “I’ll leave you two alone and go round up a couple of your colleagues, Dareios.”

“The Blessing of Antiope calls for four templars, doesn’t it?” Falah asked Hera, directing a playful little smile towards Dareios as she turned round and got up on to sit on her knees, her smile intensifying and growing nastier when she saw his cock jerk in response to the sight of her huge, round tits and her bald, drooling honeypot, with her toned midriff forming a bridge between them. The ritual in which Klyra was enticed to bless a field or orchard consisted of a priestess being lovingly covered from head to toe with scented oils, after which she was first made to climax through the golden acorns now slung round Dareios’ mother’s neck, then blasted with cum by one of Teitum’s templars, the close relationship of the two cults mirroring the mythical marriage of their deities. After this, she’d be mounted in a palanquin and carried by four templars to the site that was to be blessed, accompanied by a fellow priestess and two acolytes of her own cult. Once at the site, the cum-painted priestess would saunter along the entire edge of the field or orchard before stepping into the centre of it, where the acolytes would lick every last drop of cum off her body whilst the accompanying priestess burned incense and prayed. If the priestess were to squirt over the acolytes, that was generally interpreted as a portent of a particularly good harvest.

“Yes, it does,” Hera replied, with a smile that matched Falah’s.

“Naughty slut!” Falah cried out, which only made Hera widen her smile.

“It might take a while before I get back,” Hera announced, her pussy juicing as her mind turned towards the things that the four volunteers would do to her once she’d rounded them up.

“And as for you,” Strolling up next to her hunky, buck-naked son, Hera planted one hand on his chest and got up on her toes so she could kiss him on the cheek, “you just enjoy yourself and make sure to still be here when I get back.”

“I will, mom,” Dareios promised her, then resumed ogling Falah’s gorgeous body while she ogled Hera’s equally gorgeous ass swaying to and fro as she sauntered her way towards the door and disappeared off into the corridor.