Sprintime Ritual Ch 01

Avaon stood by the bonfire, still in his antlered headdress and multicolored cloak, his face alight with the flickering fire and his silhouette sharp against the predawn sky. From his vantage on the hilltop he kept watch, over the fire of course, but also over the gathered hundreds in the fields below. He moved slowly and with a sense of purpose that belied his young frame: every action he took, every gesture he made should convey an aspect of the divine to anyone who happened to watch. He knew he was not a god...but to those that were nestled all across the hillside, to them, he was a god. After all, he had commanded that the sun should set the night before and it had, hadn't it? So for a while longer, at least, he would have to wear the face of a god.

The sun must rise.

-oOo-

It had been many years since Avaon's acorn had become a sapling and more still since had first gained the power to turn twig to branch. He remembered being so terribly proud of that little length of wood that he had spent his eighteenth summer dropping his breeks and raising his tunic at everyone he fancied, from Geneth who was barely past her eighteenth summer herself to Ariene who was very much a woman. Geneth had giggled from nervousness and blushed prettily, but could not be persuaded to come any closer. Ariene had giggled too, but her hands had been so much more kind... Avaon had entered the priesthood soon after that and, though priests were not forbidden romantic entanglements -- how could they be priests if they knew nothing of the joys of the heart or the pleasures of the body? -- Avaon had no great conquests, just the occasional tryst with other novices. In the eight summers since he had joined, he had never even been released to attend the Galen Mai festivals; instead, he was always called on to help prepare for and run the festival. This year, however, he had a reason to look forward to the rites.

Tegwen.

Tegwen was a beautiful woman, perhaps the most beautiful for a week's travel in any direction; yet, she was not beautiful because her breasts looked as if she could feed hordes of hungry children with them or because her ass was the right size to be pinched. She was, in reality, just a trifle too slender. Her breasts, though proud, were little more than a palm-full. Her ass was not plump enough to be well and truly pinched, though her hips did look as if they would fit perfectly in a man's, or woman's, hands. Her nose was too long and her mouth, too narrow to be a purely physical beauty. No, Tegwen was beautiful because she carried herself with sensuousness and a confidence that belied her plainness. Her nipples seemed always hard, aching for the caress of a finger or the touch of lips or tongue, clearly defined even in the loose linens of the priesthood. Her head was always held high and her eyes flashing, her chest thrust forward and her long legs looking like they should be wrapped around him. When she smiled, he could not help but picture that smile as her little tongue licked the dew that dripped from the end of his branch... For years he had wanted her more than any other woman. Now, at the setting of the sun on the Galen Mai, she was to be his.

Before he could have her, however, he had to prepare for the ritual. Avaon had washed in the river, scouring his skin with the course sand and combed the tangles from his long brown hair. Using the river as a mirror, he had shaved the two-day stubble from his chin and the hair from his bollocks, leaving only the brown thatch of hair above his branch. Knowing he was going to be on the menu he had forgone his usual midday meal of flat bread and a fresh onion in favor of a gruel of honeyed oats and a peeled apple. Even so, he had later chewed on mint leaves to make sure he tasted good top and bottom.

As the sun neared the top of its arc, Catrin and Nesta came down to the river to help him finish his preparations. The two women were twins, priestesses both that had entered the order two summers earlier. At twenty summers old, some six summers younger than Avaon himself, he knew they were as much a part of the order as he was. Still, he had always found them to be too unserious to be worth spending too much time with. They were not casually disrobing at the riverbank to engage in conversation, however.

Naked but for the charms and torcs they would never be without, their brown tresses cascading past freckled skin and supple breasts before spreading on the water, they waded through the water to where he performed his toilet. Giggling, they grabbed him each by an arm and led him back to the riverbank where they had spread a blanket. They pulled him from the water and pushed him down upon the blanket where he lay, his head resting on a pillow of their discarded vestments.

One of them, Catrin perhaps, produced a clay bowl while Nesta brought forth a horsehair brush and strips of unbleached linen. They took turns applying something sticky that smelled of honey to his arms, legs and chest and laying upon the mixture the strips of linen. Despite his dislike for them personally, Avaon was so entranced by the sight of four naked breasts and by the downy hair that framed their cunnies, shaped to perfect triangles, that he did not think on what would happen next. When the first strip came off, he yelped in pain, sounding like a dog that had been waiting patiently under the table but was inadvertently kicked. To keep him from tensing up, while Nesta pulled the strips from his legs Catrin stood above his head, spreading the petals of her flower. With a series of yanks, and only a grunt from him, one leg was finished.

As Nesta moved to the other leg, Catrin began to stroke her tender bud, causing a dollop of dew to form at the crux of her flower and causing Avaon's branch, despite the pain, to stir with the wind. Moving to his arms and his chest, Catrin turned about and pinned his shoulders with her knees and held his hands fast to the ground. As the last of his hair was removed he watched, through the haze of pain, as that single drop of nectar rolled slowly through her petals to fall upon his chin and wonder how sweetly she would have tasted had it fallen on his tongue. As if in answer to his unspoken thought, Catrin stood and Nesta pulled him to his feet, but not before she had licked her sister's cum from his chin and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Though he was as nude as the day he was brought into the world, and now nearly as hairless, he knew they were not yet done with him. While Nesta kissed at his chin and lips, her sister brought back another bowl, larger and deeper than the first. The girls scooped with their fingers and spread another mixture across his arms and chest. This mixture smelled of heather and lanolin and soothed the outraged skin as they worked it into his denuded skin. They moved quickly but methodically across his body, Catrin working her way around to his back while Nesta began at his feet and worked her way back up the front. Avaon could feel himself begin to hum lowly as Catrin worked her way to his buttocks, kneading them with a sure and practiced hand as her twin spread the balm over his muscled thighs. Without pause, Catrin reached her hand between his legs to grasp his stones, coating them in the cool white cream, while Nesta busied her hands spreading it around the length of his horn. Catrin eased his foreskin back from the mushroom head of his cock, using her thumbs to work the salve into the sensitive ridge that ran around the head. As she did so, Nesta her hands back through his buttocks and inserted her slender middle finger into his ass. He grunted with surprise and his branch twitched as she fucked him a few times with first one, then two well-lubed fingers.

Nesta leaned over and whispered into Catrin's ear. They both giggled and stood back to admire their handiwork. Avaon glistened from top to bottom and smelled as if he had spent all day rolling on the moorland. He was relaxed and content, but for the tumescence that jutted proudly a hand-span from his loins. His branch seemed formed of solid wood, and the heather balm would make sure that it stayed that way for many hours yet. Catrin stood with her hand on her hip a few paces away, staring fixedly at his erection. Nesta too stared, but leaned towards Catrin and whispered conspiratorially. Catrin nodded and, holding her thumb and forefinger only a finger's width apart, giggled. As her sister joined in her laughter, Avaon blushed; they had brought the wood out in him, but seemed content with nothing less than stone.

Smiling like she knew a secret, Nesta turned to Catrin and put her hands on her sister's chest, feeling the weight of each breast before bending down to take each nipple into her mouth in turn. Avaon stood and stared in awe, his branch twitched. Catrin whispered to Nesta and they kissed as deeply as lovers who had spent too much time apart but as fervently as lovers who had just learned what a kiss could be. Catrin put her hands on the back of Nesta's head, holding her into the kiss while Nesta's hands roamed lower, parting the petals of her sister's sex. A whispered phrase and Catrin had turned, spreading her legs and bending at the waist so Avaon could see Nesta's finger moving in and out of her sister's flower. His branch twitched again, leaking nectar and feeling as hard as he had ever felt it.

Catrin shuddered, her knees suddenly unable to support her weight, and released her grip on her sister's hair to sink gracefully to the ground. She leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. With a toothy grin for Avaon, Nesta lowered herself slowly onto Catrin's waiting mouth. Avaon watched, spellbound, while Nesta's hands kneaded her breasts and while Catrin licked and kissed her twin sister from bud to blossom. Within moments, Nesta began to thrash around and Catrin had to grab hold of Nesta's hips lest her lips be pried from her sister's sex. Nesta bit her lip in silent ecstasy, thrashing still against the skill of her twin's tongue.

When she calmed they stood, holding hands, to find Avaon slack-jawed, a string of nectar dangling from a branch of stone. They smiled approvingly at him and giggled in unison. Catrin came up to him and, though she had to stand on tiptoe to do it, gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. The smell of Nesta on Catrin's mouth made his nostrils flare and caused him to twitch again. Nesta made a startled noise and then bent low to collect his nectar on her finger. She brought it to his mouth, spreading it across his lips before kissing him as gently as her sister had.

Around his shoulders they placed a warm cloak of thick, worsted wool and atop his head a crown of horns. He would need nothing else. With their help he had ceased to be Avaon for a time and had become a god.

Now the ritual could begin.