The Trials of Priestess Evangeline

Priestess Evangeline swept a hand over the bejewelled hood that covered her head. The white veil that stretched from its tip down to her collarbone where it attached to the clasps of her ceremonial robe obscured her view, forcing her to watch the world through a mesh haze. In front of her, a blurred, stooped figure fussed at the hem of her robe, trying to adjust the length last-minute.

Lifting a hand, Evangeline trailed her fingertips down between the valley of her breasts, noting the faint traces of oil that lingered still–remnants from the perfumed bath she’d been instructed to take earlier. She’d nearly scrubbed her skin raw, until she’d emerged with silk-supple skin and the smell of berries on her flesh.

Only the best for today, she thought to herself.

“You’re just about done, priestess,” the maid at her feet said. Evangeline saw her stand and dust off her apron. “If you’ll just step off the pedestal for me.”

With the maid’s help, Evangeline descended the pedestal, her bare feet touching cool, smooth stone, a welcome sensation after hours of standing still.

In front of her, the maid looked her up and down, then made a satisfied noise. “You’re perfect,” she said. “The high priestesses will be happy, as will the kings.”

The kings.

Evangeline’s skin prickled. All twelve kings from the neighbouring city-states had journeyed here for this–to witness her ascension to High Priestess. If she managed to ascend, that was.

A light rap at the threshold drew her attention. Through the film of her veil, she saw the tall, lithe figure of one of the temple girls. “They’re ready for you, Priestess Evangeline,” she said in a soft, lilting voice. From the Northern territories, Evangeline noted. Not that it mattered. She’d likely never see the girl again after that day.

Evangeline nodded. “Very well.” She took a step forward, then paused and turned back to the maid. “Thank you for your work. The Goddess smiles upon you, I’ve no doubt about it.”

Turning, she followed the temple girl out of the guest chambers and into the corridor, where firelit sconces lighted their way. Evangeline’s steps were silent, the temple girl’s a rasping whisper of slippered feet over the interlocking stone floor. She’d learn to quiet her steps in the coming years, if she wished to pursue ordination.

“Are you nervous?” the girl asked some time later. They were still walking through the temple, its corridors like a labyrinth built by the ancients.

“Nervous?” Evangeline asked. She supposed she was nervous, in a sense. And yet, her entire life had led her to this moment. Every breath, every meal, it had all built up to this–her ascension. If she was nervous, it was out of excitement, out of longing. Mostly, she was filled with a sense of rightness.

“Forgive me, it was wrong of me to question you, Priestess,” the temple girl said, the words rushed.

Evangeline raised a hand, the motion lifting her robe and exposing a sliver of sensitive flesh. She stifled a shudder as air hit the flesh of her stomach. “There’s no need to apologize. I was merely considering how best to answer your question.”

“Of course, Priestess Evangeline.”

“To answer, no, I don’t find myself nervous. I am excited to ascend as a High Priestess of the Goddess. I am excited to serve in Her halls.”

“But the Trial…surely, you must be somewhat apprehensive?” the girl questioned. Evangeline thought that she must not have grown up in the temples. Had she, she wouldn’t feel such confusion over the Goddess’ Trial.

“High Priestesses have endured such trials since the Order’s inception. The Goddess Herself faced a similar trial, though it wasn’t quite so formal,” Evangeline said.

“The Demon King,” the girl said.

Evangeline nodded. “You’re new to these halls, aren’t you?” she asked.

Beside her, the girl bowed her head. From behind the haze of her veil, Evangeline could see the girl twisting the cuff of her sleeve between her fingers. “Is it so obvious?”

“It is,” Evangeline confirmed. “It’s not a bad thing, though. It just is.” Taking a breath, Evangeline thought back to her first day in the temples. She’d been groomed for the role, born into it.

“The Demon King and the Goddess are married,” Evangeline started. “But before they married, the Goddess had to endure a similar trial by her husband. He took her on these grounds, before the temple was built, amongst the wildflowers. When he witnessed her conviction, her strength of will, he sank to his knees and begged her to marry him. Which she did.”

“It’s just always seemed so…” the girl trailed and bit her lip, looking around them.

“You may speak freely. The Order doesn’t punish free thought, even when it’s contrary to our beliefs.”

The girl’s shoulders relaxed. “It just seems so barbaric,” she whispered. “To be taken that way? By a demon, in front of so many people–in front of kings?”

“It’s a holy thing,” Evangeline said. “And completely natural. Women derive pleasure from sex, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We are a matriarchal society, after all.”

Evangeline couldn’t tell from behind her veil, but she was almost certain the girl’s face was aflame with embarrassment.

“O-of course, Priestess,” she stammered out, then squared her shoulders and continued walking.

Soon, the firelit corridors gave way to natural light, to corridors lined with large arching windows. Sunlight poured in rays to the floor, warming it beneath Evangeline’s feet. It was a good sign, the calm weather.

Up around the corner, voices filtered to Evangeline’s ears. Most of them were deep, hushed voices. The kings talking amongst themselves, no doubt.

A few seconds later, the voices quieted as Evangeline stepped into the great hall. All eyes were on her as she walked forward, the large skylight casting a shimmer to her skin and ceremonial robe.

The kings sat in a semicircle a short distance from the dais, where Evangeline was to endure her trial. Amongst them were the High Priestesses. There were eleven altogether, one for each city-state. Evangeline would make the twelfth. She caught the eye of a king dressed in dark furs and leathers, his hair long and partially drawn back with a strip of cord. Battle-scarred with sharp yet jovial eyes, the warrior king Korin bowed his head in respect as she passed.

If she succeeded in her trial, she would serve at the temple in M’rrdwyn, the city-state Korin ruled over. She looked forward to meeting his wife, a princess from the frozen north–a land with different gods from hers.

When Evangeline made it to the High Priestess, she inclined her head, scanning the dais out of the corner of her eye. Even with the veil, she could still see the circle of red that had been drawn on the raised platform, the sigils that had been painted by careful hands and enchanted by silver tongues.

“Raise your head, Priestess Evangeline,” a rasping voice commanded from in front of her. Evangeline did as she was instructed and came eye-to-eye with High Priestess Cyrille. She was the oldest High Priestess, and as such, she held the title of Holy Matriarch.

“Are you prepared to face your trial, Priestess Evangeline?” she inquired. The simple red chiton she wore was embellished only with a length of gold cord that wrapped around her waist.

“Yes, High Priestess Cyrille,” Evangeline said.

Evangeline couldn’t be entirely sure, but she thought she saw something akin to pride in the high priestess’ eyes. A moment later, it was gone, and High Priestess Cyrille nodded, taking a step back and turning to address the audience of kings.

Behind the matriarch, the other high priestesses were dressed in robes not unlike Evangeline’s. The only difference was the black colouring and their closed fronts.

“Today,” High Priestess Cyrille started, “we witness the Trial of Priestess Evangeline. You have been called on to act as witnesses, as is your duty as kings of this land. Should you be unable to fulfill this duty, speak now.”

The kings sat still, expectant. When none moved, the Matriarch nodded. “Then we shall begin.”

Two of the High Priestesses came forward, grabbing Evangeline by the upper arms and steering her to the dais, their hands steady.

“Since the beginning of our matriarchy, our Priestesses have upheld the tradition of the Trials,” Cyrille stated. “To follow in our Mother’s footsteps, to allow our will to be tested and our bodies to be taken by the kin of her husband, the Demon King.”

Evangeline stood on the dais, a newfound tension curling in the pit of her stomach. Was this…nervousness? Her body felt coiled and ready, waiting for something she couldn’t put a name to.

High Priestess Cyrille held out a hand, and a moment later, a robed priestess laid a ceremonial knife on the palm of the Matriarch’s waiting hand. Holding the knife in both hands, she closed her eyes and began to chant under her breath.

Evangeline watched, rapt with attention, as the blade began to glow a soft red.

“Hear me, O Denizen of the Ninth Realm. The Holy Matriarch of the Goddess calls upon you to rise from your dwelling to fulfill your duty as kin of the Demon King, and test our Priestess, one named Evangeline.”

Evangeline’s breath caught as a sudden chilled wind ruffled the hem of her robe. The two priestesses on either side of her stepped back, out of the painted circle, and joined their sisters near the kings. Evangeline watched as Cyrille cut a glowing pattern in the air with the knife, and then the space around her seemed to swell and thicken, until all at once the feeling was gone, and the air was calm once more.

But all was not the same, and Evangeline felt the warmth of a stranger’s presence at her back.

“Well, well,” a low, sonorous voice intoned. “I’d always wondered what the surface would look like. Is it always so bright?”

“Demon, what is your name?” Cyrille asked, still clasping the knife close to her chest.

“Morgoraz, High Priestess.” The demon’s voice held a quality to it that Evangeline hadn’t ever experienced before. When he spoke, it was as if she could feel the words in her bones, in the very fibre of her being, like a sensuous caress.

“Morgoraz, do you know why you’ve been summoned here today? To the Goddess’ temple?”

Morgoraz chuckled behind her back, the sound closer than it had been before. The skin on the back of Evangeline’s neck prickled in anticipation.

“I can piece it together, yes. I’d been wondering why the air had felt strange this past week. This is a most exciting outcome.” The last sentence was almost a purr, and Evangeline felt her flesh pebble with anticipation. She’d known the demons were a sensual sort, but she’d never guessed mere words would affect her so much.

At once, the presence behind her back shifted, and she felt Morgoraz walk in a slow circle around her. From behind the haze of her veil, she saw a tall figure with red skin and only a pair of what seemed like leather breeches circle her. She nearly jumped when he reached a hand toward her face, his claws scraping the mesh of her veil.

“Does she have to wear this?” he asked. “I’d very much like to see her face when I fuck her.”

The demon’s crude words sent a flash of desire right to her very core, and she struggled not to press her thighs together as a sudden slickness made itself known at the apex of her thighs. She was suddenly very aware of the way her robe felt against her skin, at the way it shifted over her breasts with every breath she took.

“The veil is a tradition, I’m afraid,” High Priestess Cyrille said.

“A shame,” Morgoraz murmured. “The rest of her is so pretty.” Lifting a hand, he tipped her chin up with a claw. “Can you see me under that veil, priestess? See the demon who’s going to test your faith today? In front of all these men and women?”

When Evangeline didn’t respond, the demon chuckled and stepped in closer. Speaking to Cyrille, he asked, “Am I permitted to begin?”

“You are,” the matriarch responded.

Though Evangeline couldn’t see it–Morgoraz was quite tall and too close to her–she heard the smile in his next words. “Excellent. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment.”

Quicker than Evangeline could blink, the demon reached forward, slipping his hands under her robe and grabbing her by the hips. Evangeline gasped at the prick of his claws on her flesh, the sensation sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine.

Morgoraz hummed under his breath and tugged her forward, bringing her hips flush against his. This time, Evangeline couldn’t keep from squeezing her thighs together at the feel of him hard against her.

Morgoraz chuckled. “You like the feel of me, Priestess, don’t you? The feel of my cock pressed up against you,” he said, then tutted. “Oh, you’re excited by that, aren’t you? Excited at the thought of all these strong kings watching you being taken by me–by a demon. It makes you wet, doesn’t it?”

Before she could answer, Morgoraz trailed a hand down her front and between her legs. Evangeline had a fleeting thought of concern for his claws, but he was surprisingly gentle, taking care not to let them scrape her. Evangeline sucked in a breath as Morgoraz trailed the back of a knuckle through her slickness, the sound obscenely loud to her ears.

She felt her cheeks warm as Morgoraz retracted his hand, grinned, and lifted it to his mouth where a forked tongue slipped out to taste. His eyes looked her up and down, and the hand still on her hip moved to grip one half of her robe and pull it aside, exposing her flesh to the cool air of the great hall.

“How pretty you are, Priestess,” Morgoraz murmured. There was a teasing quality to his voice that made her cheeks warm. “It’s a shame I can’t see your face. But no matter, I’ll do a good enough job testing your faith. In fact…” he trailed.

The demon ran his hands down her sides, gripping the robe and pulling it open so she was exposed. Her breath came out quicker, a flash of excitement running through her at the feel of the jury’s gaze on her body. A body that had been primped and primed for this moment.

Morgoraz inhaled, then bent to a knee and grabbed Evangeline by the waist, tugging her closer so he could draw a line with his tongue from her stomach up to the valley between her breasts. “You taste amazing, Priestess. How lucky I am,” he said against her skin, then turned his head to kiss her breast while his hands kneaded the flesh of her hips.

“But I think,” he started, gently nipping at the flesh of the underside of her breast. “You would taste even better between these luscious thighs of yours.”

Evangeline clenched her thighs in earnest as Morgoraz made his way down, kneeling in front of her, his tall, arching horns pressing against her stomach. Before she could take a breath, the demon pulled her thighs apart and buried his face between her legs.

The first slow lick up her sex took her breath away.

Evangeline wasn’t a virgin by any means. The Order wasn’t a chaste one, and she’d had her fair share of men in the early years of her adulthood. But the feel of Morgoraz’s forked tongue on her sex, paired with the image of the jury sitting there, watching her be pleasured, was almost too intense a sensation.

Morgoraz lapped at her again and again, with increasing intensity. It wasn’t long before Evangeline was panting in an effort not to moan. And when Morgoraz sucked her clit into his mouth, she had to clutch at his horns to stay upright.

After a few minutes of torture, wherein she struggled to keep away from the edge of all-consuming pleasure, Morgoraz pulled away and stood, walking a slow circle around her.

“These robes they put you in are so ornate, yet so delicate.” Evangeline felt him pluck at one shoulder, lifting the material from her skin before letting it drop again.

Standing behind her, he stepped up close and reached around, grabbing the two halves of her robe and pulling them apart so she was completely exposed to the jury. Evangeline licked her lips, her pulse spiking.

“You like that they’re watching, don’t you?” he asked lowly, so only she could hear. “You can’t wait for them to see me take you.” He chuckled. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting, then. Get on your knees, Priestess.”

Evangeline did as he said, kneeling down before him. She heard the sound of Morgoraz undressing before he kneeled, too, and pushed her forward so that she was on her hands and knees. Grabbing her robe, he pushed it up over her hips. But the robe was made of slippery material that just fell back to cover her again.

After another attempt to keep the robe in place, the demon made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and gripped the robe tightly.

“Oh, but this is just getting in the way,” Morgoraz said, frustration evident in his voice. “I hope you’re not too attached to this robe, Priestess.” Evangeline didn’t have time to process that remark before hearing a tearing and a sudden lightness on her body. Turning her head, she saw Morgoraz toss the remnants of the lower half of her robe to the side. The seamstresses won’t be happy about that, she thought absently.

But before she could think further on that, Morgoraz reached forward and wrapped a hand around her throat, pulling her up and back, flush against him so that his cock fitted against her ass, hard against her soft skin. His heated breath in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. She could just barely feel his breath through the thin material of her hood, and she suspected that was only due to his elevated body temperature.

A moment later, Morgoraz spoke, and at the same time, Evangeline could feel him reach down and teasingly drag his cock through the slick folds of her sex. “Is it my cock you want, Priestess? Hm? Oh, but you’re supposed to keep a clear head through all this, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be a good girl and pretend not to enjoy the feel of me sliding into you nearly as much as you will.”

Evangeline let out a controlled breath. “I will complete my rites,” she said to the demon. “There is no other possible outcome.”

Evangeline felt Morgoraz lean down and then a sharp sting as he took the flesh of her shoulder–and the thin robe covering it–between his teeth. “Try all you like, Priestess,” he said against her shoulder. “But how about we really get started, then?”

Without warning, Morgoraz lined himself up at her entrance and pushed inside in one smooth motion. Evangeline’s eyes widened at the sensation of him filling her, stretching her. And when he pulled his hips back and thrust roughly into her welcoming heat, she gasped, unable to keep quiet.

“Is this what you wanted, Priestess?” Morgoraz snarled in Evangeline’s ear. “To walk the same path as your Goddess? To feel closer to Her? By fucking a demon, of all things. How crude, how savage a tradition.”

Evangeline said nothing, her mind empty except for the pleasure Morgoraz was wringing from her body. All she could focus on were sensations. The sound of Morgoraz’ hips slamming against her ass, the feel of his cock, thick and throbbing inside her aching cunt, the smell of her sweat and perfume, mixed with the heady scent of their carnality, the image of the kings sat in front of her, watching with dark, intent eyes, the crudeness of it all.

But, moreover, Evangeline was keenly aware of how much she enjoyed it all. How much she enjoyed the men’s eyes on her, how much she enjoyed them watching her get fucked, her robe torn from her skin and her breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust of the demon’s hips. Her chest, neck, and face warmed at the thought of them enjoying it. Of them deriving pleasure from it, but being unable to relieve themselves in such a fashion.

Because, after all, the Order was a matriarchal society, and women’s pleasure was revered–sacred, even. And to take pleasure in a holy ritual was the highest offence.

Morgoraz’s hand was insistent on her throat, holding her to him as he fucked her. The slight pricks of his claws against her flesh only served to heighten the pleasure she was feeling.