Kneel Before Her

Tessia sighed happily and ran her fingers through the hair of the man kneeling between her spread thighs, urging him to keep going. Ennil's tongue was one of the lithe brunette's favorite things; of the thirty-nine men in her tribe, he pleased her the most. He always knew exactly what to do with his tongue and when to do it to drive her wild. Always the right amount of tempo and pressure. She even let him slip a finger or two inside her at his own discretion, a rare privilege for the men but he never failed to satisfy. The decorative bangles on Tessia's wrists clinked softly as she gripped the arms of her chair and arched her back to welcome an orgasmic surge of bliss, moaning luxuriously.

The Power she was able to draw from the man's worship was lessened when she let him penetrate her but she didn't care. The others would be enough. When Ennil took his turn at her throne Tessia let it be about pleasure instead of Power. She had developed a fondness for him and favored him greatly in the tribe. She would have gladly borne his children had it been possible for her to become pregnant.

Several other men were kneeling in a circle around her throne as Ennil serviced her. They bowed rhythmically and chanted in a hymn of worship. The whole area was so infused with Power she couldn't understand how the men couldn't feel it, but there had never been a man born who could wield the Power. Only women, and not even all women. Men were useful and sometimes pleasurable but they could never be powerful. Women like Tessia gathered men around themselves for their worship.

Worship channeled Power. Into objects, places, people. As the men took turns between her legs to lavish her with adoration, she drew strength. More worshippers meant more Power. The bowing and chanting, the pussy licking. All of it counted as worship. On lazy days now and then she would enjoy hours of ecstasy on her throne, basking in the attentiveness of her loyal men and listening to the ocean waves.

Power.

It was exhilarating: Tessia was connected to all the forces of nature by her Power. The sun, the wind, the grass, the waves. She could wave her hand and summon a whirlwind. Hurl fire from her fists. Call lightning from the sky and wash whole villages from the shore with a tidal wave. It was only proper that the men worshipped her. Without her to lead and protect them they could all be killed or enslaved by another tribe.

It was rare enough for a woman to be born in the first place, but rarer still that one was connected to the Power. Tessia's village included only four women, herself among them. The other three were breeding stock. Precious beyond all earthly treasure, honored and respected, but breeding stock all the same. Tessia's Power could make them fertile, but only the passage of time could bring about more men for the tribe. And there was always the possibility of another girl being born. Rare, but it happened.

Satisfied with his work, Tessia dismissed Ennil with a gentle push and beckoned for her other attendants to bring the coconut oil for her massage. Besides her jewelry, she was completely naked. It was good for them to look upon the object of their worship. To be allowed to touch and serve her intimately. It focused their worship and built loyalty and zeal. A tall muscular man poured a trickle of the sweet-smelling oil along her body while another two men worked it into her skin.

Despite approaching the age of fifty, Tessia showed only the barest touch of time's influence. At a glance she appeared no older than twenty. Her skin was tight and flawless, despite a lifetime spent in the sun. Full breasts defied gravity's law, remaining firm and pert. Only the steely edge of hard-earned wisdom in her dark eyes betrayed the secret that she was more than she seemed.

She had no reason to feel anything but relaxed as the men cupped and massaged her breasts or ran their hands down the taut skin of her abdomen or rubbed her thighs. She had taught them exactly how she liked to be touched and they obeyed eagerly. She would choose one of them to take to her bed later, after the evening worship was concluded. It was a great treat for them to feel her true embrace, and Tessia enjoyed a nice stiff cock as much as any woman.

There were others like Tessia, in scattered villages dotting the untamed landscape. A shaman would seek to surround herself with as many loyal followers as she could. Each was a goddess among insects, living exactly how she wanted. For Tessia, that meant pleasure and comfort. She made everyone in her tribe learn to please her once they came of age. It was her favorite form of worship, and it was potent.

Tessia preferred to avoid conflict with those other shaman, favoring treaties and friendship that benefitted both tribes but it was not always possible. Some shaman were bloodthirsty warmongers, sending their warriors to slaughter the worshippers of others or, in rare cases, attacking them directly. Tessia disliked fighting; it was the opposite of luxury. It felt like work.

Once every inch of her skin glistened with the oils and her massage was concluded, Tessia sat up and snapped her fingers to have her guards bring her the prisoner.

Sometimes work was unavoidable.