Sensuality and Sacrilege; Art by WoolRool (Patreon)

Now I'm not the most pious kin by any standard. I believe in the great goddess, the spirit of the world and the avatar of the overmind, yes. But I’m not normally one to strip down and dance in the fire, venerating her stewardship of the oversoul or anything. Not as the true faithful of the Palawa do. I honor Anjea in my own way. Though, I do participate in the Festival of Life! What sane Palawa wouldn’t. I mean, who rejects a religious celebration that commands you to strip down and take part in a unification orgy? I mean shit, I go home for that every year. Unfortunately for the ladies of the tribe, I've yet to sire a child with any of them. I've only got the one kid so far, but she’s not the result of that exaltation of the spirit.

With that said, I’m no heathen. I know that those outside of the tribes practice a more tamed version of worship. Many venerate Anjea by different names and means. Even those who still beg the blessings of the long vanished Eternians still give the goddess her due. The Eternians themselves prayed to the Goddess, so I’m not one to disrespect or defile another kin’s faith.

You can call me a lot of things. Outlander? Yeah. A roguish scoundrel? Most certainly! I’ve been called worse. Even a reprehensible reprobate, though only on the weekends. Sometimes it’s true, but not as a matter of course. No. Despite the colorful nicknames used against me, I still particularly prefer to be called Riyo, or Sir Vandeleur. It’s my name and I am a knight afterall. A Raven Knight of the Order if you can believe that. A lowly Palawan ‘savage’ like me. I’m sure it grinds a few gears. So understand that I’ve had a lot of four letter words and two copper comments lobbied my way, but never have I been called sacrilegious or blasphemous. Well... Not until now.

As I stood there, trying to explain myself to my uptight friend, Reese, the accusation came over and over again. He couldn’t believe what I had done.

“I’ve never been so disappointed in you.” He chided. I could only roll my eyes. As always, the stuffy skunk had a point, but I wasn’t yet ready to concede to it. Though I knew it wasn’t the best thing I’d ever done, I insisted that there were ‘mitigating circumstances’. An insistence that my good friend dismissed out of hand.

Reese fancies himself an honorable kin. That’s a fact that I won’t dispute. The skunk is a kin of impeccable character and judgement. One of those ‘Warriors of Virtue’ you always hear about in tired stories about some fool knight saving a princess from a dragon or some such nonsense. That shit is a tired fiction, but to my knowledge Reese is the real deal... for the most part.

He lives according to his ‘Bushi Code’, and laments the fact that most of us don’t do the same. He claims a kin must have a code. I say he and his code can be a right pain in the ass; and I say it often.

In my opinion the blademaster just loves to use it to judge me with his ‘superior wakokujin morality’. He thinks most of us Therian’s are ‘messy’ in the way we live socially. Even going so far as to consider me a bit of a wastrel and a reprehensible bachelor. Which I find interesting as he himself is quite the Lothario. Don’t let him fool you. He’s had more than his fair share of sexual misadventures.

Reese is all for ringing the bells of any maiden that takes his fancy, but because he has some arbitrary moral code about it, he’s somehow better than I am. I disagree. We’re not so different, he and I. I may not have a fancy code or be quite as scrupulous as he is, but I’m not out here recklessly spreading my seed around either. We both like to have a good time, I’m just not quite as uptight with my company. Women, men, top or bottom; I’m a connoisseur of sexual experience. As long as there is a spark between them and I, I’m not too discriminative against who shares my bed. Call it  a cultural habit.

Reese rolled his eyes at that. He went on about how I need to be more judicious with my love and how I will inevitably leave a trail of jaded women, and broken hearts. I laughed at that.

“So no sympathy for the men left in my wake?” I teased. He simply huffed in exasperation.

You know, for someone who likes to claim the moral high ground, I know for a fact that my good friend Reese has drawn ‘both’ of his swords in unscrupulous situations on behalf of our dear Prince Vandell. I’ve seen him act as seducer and even assassin when the need arises. For duty or for fun, does it really make that much of a difference? Not to me. Then again, I’m not a prude. I guess things get a little complicated when you grow up in a repressed society looking like he does. The skunk is almost exhaustingly handsome.

Since I’ve known him, ladykin all around have fawned over his beautiful face and unique accent. Together we form a pretty stunning duo if I do say so myself, though in the grand scheme of things my lineage and social standing have always given him the edge with women. Reese certainly doesn’t have that problem, even though he is a proper ‘Outlander’, having not even been born on the continent and all. I guess the slur is only applied to the Palawa.

I often question why Anjea chose to bless that man with that face. The snow white hair, soft grey fur, and enchanting violet eyes give the man a unique presence that I haven’t failed to notice myself. It’s kind of annoying to know a man can walk around looking like a bag of platinum kellings, and still not find much to smile about most days. He’s just ‘oh so serious’ most of the time.

Perhaps if the Goddess would offer me a blessing, she could give the man some chill to go with that icy stare of his. I’d much prefer a little friendly fun, instead the only time he’s all up in my ass is when he’s complaining about my ‘poor choices’.

Which is laughable as I’m certain we’d had the exact conversation in a bar not too long ago, and the positions were reversed.

“You make me sound like some kind of stoic prude,” He griped.

“Aren’t you?” I shot back.

“Not particularly. I enjoy a good frolic among the high grass as much as the next kin. I’m just not out there taking advantage of the next generation.” Reese argued..

I rolled my eyes as he took me to task for old and new. Siting my unprofessional relationship with my adjutant as an example of my skewed morality.

“This from the man who tried on several occasions to bed my sister.” I countered. But he was not deterred.

“Champa is the older twin and a ladykin of exceptional quality. Lyndaria is a young knight who looks up to you. You didn’t need to bed her, nor did you need to add the young sheep to your long list of conquests.” reproached Reese.

I tried to defend myself by pointing out that he was also in a sexual relationship with his adjutant, Mahika, but that argument was dead on arrival.

“Firstly, Mahika only seems young because she is incredibly short and immature for her age. She is barely younger than you or I.” he started.

“Secondly, I do not abuse her adoration of me. We’ve simply agreed to go to one another when we need to let off a little steam.” he claimed magnanimously. I wasn’t convinced. Sure, it all sounded good when he said it like that, but the shit eating grin curling up his lips didn’t seem all that innocent to me.

Despite my protests I knew him to be right. Like I said, the man’s known for his good judgement. I am, of course, very popular with the ladykin. Even those who turn their nose up at my Palawan heritage tend to want to  forsake their oaths of love and marriage just for a chance to ‘ride the lightning’. Luckily for the married males of the land, I’m a little more scrupulous than that... most of the time.

“Yeah, but this time was hardly my fault!” I argued. It really wasn’t. I mean, not completely. I wasn’t the aggressor here, nor did I encourage or seduce the girl. In my defense, I was the victim of a carefully planned seduction. How was I to know what she had in store for me?

I tried to argue that point, but Sir Reese was not convinced. His eyes went half mast and he glowered at me impatiently. You could readily feel the sarcasm brewing inside of him.

“Sure, Vandeleur, that’s how it happened. A vestal virgin just happened to lure you into the garden at night with promises of candy and conversation, before forcing herself on you.” he sighed.

His voice took on a mocking tone as he continued.

“The girl is barely old enough to be allowed to walk the streets alone at night... and you're telling me, what? That she subdued you with her powerful magic? Did she force you down and take your manhood for herself. Perhaps her charms were just so powerful that you couldn’t resist?”

I wanted to say something about that last one, but he interrupted, reminding me we live in the same tower as a damn Succubus. If I could resist her, I could resist a little lamb who hasn’t even developed into her adult body yet. I couldn’t argue with that one. Monette propositions me once a day. I’m not opposed to being her latest tasty morsel, but that woman’s got an insatiable appetite. Saying no is a matter of my health, not my decency.

Begrudgingly, I had to concede to his point. But not without a bit of whining.

“It didn’t happen like that!” I pointed out. It really hadn’t.

First of all, it only started in the garden. We actually did the deed elsewhere. Secondly, no magic or mojo was involved. Mallory didn’t need it. All it took was the kiss of an incredibly pretty young nun, who I probably should have paid more attention too. When she made her move to entice me I didn’t put up much of a fight. I know, I know, but can you blame me. You must admit it’s kind of hot when a lovely ladykin knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go get it. Mal made her move and it was a good one. We ended up making love right there under the watchful eyes of the Goddess.

Thinking about it, this is probably entirely my fault, but not for the reasons you might think. It’s just that I ignored all the signs. It’s easy to do when you're not around all the time. It’s a simple thing to disregard the budding womanhood of a young girl who you’ve always seen as ‘just a kid’. Your eyes are elsewhere, y’know.

Lil’ Mal was barely twelve when I met her. I was just a simple sellsword at the time, doing all the dirty jobs that the nobles didn’t want known by the public. The little corriedale came into my life in less than ideal circumstances, during a particularly heartbreaking assignment.

I’d been contracted by Sir Byron Bedel, a landed knight, who claimed his daughter, an awoken, had fallen in with a bad crowd. Like most kin of means, he decided to forgo having his gifted child sent to the Librarium for her arcane instruction and instead hired private tutors. Mallory’s parents had been the first tutors that Sir Byron hired, but after they refused to teach his daughter offensive arcanum, citing her to be too immature; Byron decided to hire another. A mysterious woman no one had ever met before.

Unsurprisingly, the bad crowd turned out to be a group of young awoken practicing subversive magic. Additionally predictable was the fact the bad crowd was being secretly led by the new sorceress, who happened to be a Wildering Witch.

In addition to the young children of nobles she had seduced with promises of knowledge and power, the dingo had also enthralled a few of the wildkin to serve as her minions. She was building a coven.

By the time I was hired, the situation had gotten so bad that several nobles had reported their young gifted cubs to have gone missing, and many like me had been hired to get to the bottom of it. Everyone wanted to keep it on the hush hush. They were all too embarrassed to go to the Order for help, instead a team of mercenaries was brought together to solve the problem.

It happened to be one of the first times Reese and I had worked together as mercenaries. He’d been contracted to find another little lordling, whose Countess mother claimed that he had been lured away from the family estate by a beguiling specter.

Stories like that grew in number quickly and all the rumors swirling around suggested witchcraft. Knowing very little of the Raven Knights at the time, me and my contemporaries were concerned only with our pay. We pushed ourselves to finish the work before the venerated Order inevitably arrived, lest their efforts lose us our pay.

Together we tracked down and invaded the witch’s forest lair, finding many young awoken being corrupted to her will. Among them was a young corriedale sheep named Mallory Catenberry. I found her in the inner chamber, bound by a powerful enchantment. The witch was trying to enslave her mind, for she had not been seduced by the lure of subversive magic. Instead, she had been kidnapped. Her imprisonment was retribution for her and her mother’s resistance.

Upon freeing the sheep I learned that her father had been bewitched by a vile enchantress. He’d not suspected her foulness and had been taken unawares while trying to work out a proper partnership for the mentoring of Byron’s daughter. It wasn’t until he began to act strange after frequent meetings with the witch did her mother suspect foul play. Sadly, the fiery ewe failed to free her husband, even with her young daughter’s help. She’d been killed by the maleficarum’s thralls. You can’t even imagine the amount of pain I saw in the little lambs eyes when she told me that. It broke my heart.

Of course I promised to save her. To save them all. It was a terrible situation and I felt especially responsible for it’s resolution, given the witch turned out to be a Palawan Mystic. One of the ‘Tutimani’, the great shame of my people. The crazy bitch had been performing blood magic and sexual rituals to keep her thralls in line. Drawing upon their quintessence to empower herself. It was a bloody fight and nobody came out clean.

We were able to save the children though, Mallory included. But the sheep’s father was another story. He had gone insane. Breaking the Mystic’s hold on him was a blessing and a curse. As sense returned to him, the memories of what he’d done under her control proved too much to bear.

The loss of his wife. The defilement of his daughter, mind, body, and spirit... I think it got to him. The memories of what she’d made him do and how he’d betrayed the love of his life just broke the ram. I remember his cries of sorrow and anguish as he screamed into the night. It sounded like the death nails of a banshee, and at first I thought maybe he would cry himself to exhaustion; but as aetheric pressure grew around him and an intense red mana halo formed in his glowing eyes, I knew him to be conjuring up dangerous magic.

He summoned all of his mystical might to cast some subversive magic of his own. An aweing display of arcane strength.

As a Corriedale, I knew he and his daughter to be the descendents of Caprini who’d fled Caprica over ‘religious differences’. I did a lot of work for the Border Legion in those days, and I got to know a good number of the sheep. They’d found their way to Evandale during the Baptism, and the Dalish welcomed them with open arms. After the war, they were given the County of Corriedale for their service and are officially considered Dalish by the kin of the Dales.

Like all Caprini, Corriedale sheep like Mallory and her father are capable of magic most average furkin can only dream of, so I was not surprised at the sheer scale of the destructive magic the stricken ram was able to unleash. It was a sight to behold.

Originally I thought I might be able to apprehend the Tutimani. Y’know, force her to face my people’s justice and all. Sad for her the ram had other plans.

“Die in agony you bitch!” I remember him crying as he brought his magic down upon her. There was nothing any of us could do to stop them. The clash of aethereal energy was so volatile it shook the very ground we stood upon. In the end, their attacks leveled the entire lair. Not one of them made it out alive. Not the witch, not the wilderings, and not Mallory’s father. It wasn’t the happiest of endings.

Things only got worse when we tried to figure out what to do with Mal. Turns out the Catenburrys had been banished from Corriedale for crimes against the clergy. Unsurprisingly, they’d been accused of blasphemy. A charge so common in that County that it’s almost a running joke.

“I’ve been to Corriedale before,” Reese offered at the time.

They’re like most Caprini, extremely pious. Ma and Pa Catenburry were apparently members of the Sirturian faction, a group of followers who no longer wished to add the Draconians in their pantheon of worship. Given that the Church of the Creator was supposedly founded by the Draconians, who in myth and legend had uplifted the Caprini from savages with their ameliorative magic, the Sirturian weren’t all that popular.

Sirturian’s argued that the Church should give more credence to Anjea, as other faiths did, given that her miracles and will are more present in the world. They, like the Church of the Goddess, believe Anjea to be the true steward of the planet, and that the Creator has abandoned Elcrest and the Draconians were just powerful mages and not agents of the divine.

Neither Reese, nor I are up on the latest dogma or anything, but the well travelled mephitis knew a thing or two about Caprica.

“It’s the only Major Kingdom that doesn’t worship Omikami by any of her many names.” he informed me.

“Most Therian’s name her as Angea, with the ‘G’, and believe her to be the Goddess of Elcrest, born of the creator to govern the world. Most worship and pray to her; the Caprini however, worship Elohim, and claim their civilization predates the Goddess, though they do not deny her existence or power. They acknowledge that she may be the caretaker of the planet, but they do not acknowledge her divinity.” he shrugged.

At the time, I was unaware of how important all of this was to kinlings. The Palawa never cared what others called the Goddess, or what they believed about her. Our beliefs do not require others to agree or affirm them. I thought it should be the same with everyone. It was Mallory who impressed upon me the great schism such beliefs caused among the Caprini.

Practical worship vs blind faith. Her people had been debating about it for years. Even at twelve, she knew enough to discourage me from trying to take her back to Corriedale where the best she could hope for is persecution and banishment.

It was sad really. So young and already she had no family or home to go back to. Given my peoples history, you could understand how that resonated with me. I was determined to find something for her. I wasn’t going to just abandon her like that.

My first choice was to take her back to Sir Byron’s estate. Given her mother’s sacrifice and the fact that her father killed the Mystic, we were hoping that the landed knight would show Mallory mercy and accept her into his house as a ward. Sadly that idea had fewer legs than a serpent.

Sir Byron blamed all the sorcerers formerly in his employ for the harrowing ordeal his daughter went through. His anger was so great that I needed to draw my sword to keep the tawny lion from ordering his servants to try to restrain the poor child. He wanted to have Mallory punished in some form of misguided revenge. Only the pleas of his daughter brought some semblance of sanity back to the irate knight.

The bastard ended up banishing the orphaned lamb from his lands, threatening to have her flogged should he ever see her again. He even considered denying me my fee for the job. I had to assure the hysterical idiot that he would certainly not live to regret such a betrayal. The whole thing was a bloody mess that left Reese and I stuck with a stray. Neither he nor I had any idea where to take her.

We eventually decided that the girl would go with me. Reese had other business to attend to up in the Free Timberlands, and Mallory didn’t want to go with him. Though a quiet and reserved thing most of the time, probably traumatized by her ordeal, Mallory got really animated whenever the topic of leaving her behind came up. I should have known then that she was getting attached to me, but at the time I felt it was only fear of the unknown. I didn’t suspect there ever to be more to it.

With few options, I decided to take the girl to Caprica. I’d never been to the ‘Magic Kingdom’, but was certain she would be happy there. My naivety got the better of me, as I was sure that her people would accept the young orphan with open arms. I couldn’t imagine they would hold her parent’s beliefs against her. Once again I found myself to be utterly wrong.

The stuffy Caprini did not want the girl and warned me in no uncertain terms what they’d do if I tried to leave her. She’d be cast into the city below. A repository for undesirables and the mundane. It was disheartening. I’m always shocked at how little empathy the ‘righteous’ tend to have for those who may not agree with them. But then again, it’s a Kingdom of mages, so what can you expect.

For months we travelled together as I tried finding a place for her. At first I didn’t want to take her to the Librarium. My own bias I guess, I’m not the biggest fan of them or their lifestyle, but I also couldn’t take her to my people. Especially my own tribe. A son of the Palawa bringing back a girl, even one so young as Mallory is suggestive. No matter what I said, they’d have tried to groom her as my dedja, and she deserved more than that. Especially given her incredible magical powers. The girl was destined to be a mighty healer. Her skills were amazing.

With that I thought of taking her to Leveria. There her magic talent could be nurtured; but braving the Mana forest with a twelve year old isn’t exactly a wise decision.

Taking her to Vulfeid to be raised as a Bellatrix seemed cruel, so I eventually proposed the Librarium. To be honest, it seemed like the best option, but Mallory was more against that than I.

She already knew more than they would have to teach one of her age, and she didn’t much care for being part of an adventuring triad. Her parents had been strongly against Librarium politics; her father having been a Librarium Professor in the past. Mallory didn’t like the idea of following a path her parents were firmly against her taking.

So me, bright fuck that I am, had an idea.

“Do you want to be a proper cleric?” I asked, pleased with myself. Mallory was excited by that prospect and I could take her just about anywhere in Lioncourt to pursue that.

Since she’d been raised Sirturian, she had the faith. I figured I could take her to one of the Churches of the Goddess and she could learn the deeper healing artes, as well as affirm her beliefs. Which seemed like a good idea for a girl who felt unclean after her run in with darkness and depravity.

I’d spent a year with her, travelling about. She grew close to me. Looking up to me like some kind of hero. She even said I was her ‘savior’, if you could believe that. She’d even helped me out on random jobs I had to take to secure money or travel. Apparently it left a huge impression on her. I’ll admit I was too young to understand the bond she was forming with me. I just couldn’t see things from her perspective.

Despite her tears and my own misgivings, a decision was made. Eventually we travelled to the abbey in Kesherah, Asssyria, to present her to the sisters of the Church. Given her gifts and the circumstances that led us there, the Church was more than happy to have her. I remember her crying as I left and me promising to come see her from time to time.

“That was a mistake...” Reese would say. He might have been right. Maybe it’d be better for her If i could have just walked away. But I tend to keep my promises.

I came to see her sparingly over the years. We mostly communicated via letters the Church dropped off with the Merchant’s Guild. Even with all the crying she did before, Lil’ Mal really enjoyed the Church life. The girl always sounded so excited about her future as a priestess. I never once got the impression that she desired anything more. Especially the pleasures of the flesh. To be brutally honest, I thought that she’d be done as a ‘sexual being’ given her past. I have no idea what she was thinking. I’m not one to know the minds of women. They’re as mysterious as the will of Mana, and just as unpredictable.

Our correspondences became more common after I accepted a commission in the Sacred Order. It’s a little easier to get a hold of me when you can just send your missives to the Nest. Letters from the tribe, my admirers, and even Mallory arrive with some frequency.

“And I’m guessing you got one from Mal about a week ago.” Reese shrugged.

“Yes!” I spat back.

“Why else would I go down there?” I asked incredulously. He simply shifted in his stance and gave me a wink. I rolled my eyes hard.

Despite what he thought, I’d only gone down because I was invited. Her naming day was coming up, in the eyes of the society and the Church, she would be a woman. Not even eighteen just yet, but already she was already being asked about her future.

Just what path would she take? Would she follow the path of the Church and become a Priestess of the Goddess, or would she take a lesser role pursuing the life of a ‘Ministrata’. Certainly she’d have more freedom with the latter. Minstrata serve as the representatives of the Church in the homes of Lords and Ladies. Healers, educators, and nursemaids. It’s a good life depending on where you land, but Mallory was unsure of any of it.

Mallory wondered if she should not own her talents and future herself, away from the church. She mused about becoming a freelance Cleric.

Assuredly Cleric unaffiliated with the Church make more money overall. Most Nobles want a spellcaster lawyer to their House above all others, but there’s also the loss of reputation. Ministrata can find work anywhere, their affiliation with the Church of the Goddess almost guaranteeing loyal and respectable service. Lil’ Mal wasn’t sure what she wanted and implied that seeing me in person would help make a decision. The Priests only gave her a week from her naming day to make a choice.

So I wasn’t expecting anything untoward when I arrived. It was all the same as before. The little lamb ran up to me as always, embracing me in a show of affection that had made her contemporaries uncomfortable. They always thought she was too affectionate with me over the years, but I didn’t see the problem. If someone had informed me of what she’d been saying about me, things might have been different.

Sure, things started off normal. I ate a modest, wholly unspectacular meal, prepared by the sisters. I sat in on some singing and some sermons. I even assisted as the postulants volunteered in the healing Ward. I was proud to see that her skills had advanced so much that she could treat disease and even grievous injuries with ease. Her water affinity had certainly been a help with that, but also, she just seemed to be naturally talented at it. I was happy for her.

Afterwards she asked to talk to me alone in the gardens. She said she often went there to pray or meditate when she had a big decision to make. I should have known something was up when she insisted on bathing first. She’d returned smelling of lilac and honeysuckle; the first time that she’d ever smelled so intentionally womanly. She also wore her summer habit, which I’ll admit, is a better representation of femininity than the usual uniform.

We met at sunset and she sat with me telling me funny stories as the moon bathed the grounds in it’s pale light.

I was thinking about something else when it happened. We’d been sitting in silence for a while, and I was wondering whether or not the pyre flies really were the lost souls of children who had perished before their time. Officially they are just wisps that are drawn to powerful sources of aetheral energy, and tend to show up a lot when those strong in the flow die. I wondered where the line between fantastic folklore and truth was drawn? It’s an interesting question. One that always fascinated me. This time it kept me so distracted with my thoughts that I never noticed a thing. So when Mallory leaned over my lap and kissed me... well let’s just say I wasn’t prepared for that.

The first kiss was innocent enough. Just a soft press of her lips against mine. I felt the short, soft furs of her face against my muzzle as she pressed forward. Her hand gripping my thigh for support. It only lasted a second or two, and then she  relented, searching my eyes for a reaction. I must have looked as confused as a fish in the sky, cause I certainly was out of my element.

My mind tried to form the words to question her. For some reason, I couldn’t just fathom what she’d done. I told myself that maybe it was a friendly kiss. Perhaps I was reading too much into it. I went to ask, but before I could speak she moved to straddle me. Sitting full in my lap, facing me, she smiled. Her slender arms wrapped around me and she looked into my eyes before kissing me again. This time, parting my mouth with her lips and slipping her tongue inside.

From there my mind went a bit slow. Though I was screaming at myself to stop her, to stop in general, I didn’t. She kissed me and I kissed her back; my training as a paramour taking over.

I took her buttocks in hand as she leaned into the kiss. The gesture emboldened her, but I was simply trying to keep her from slipping off me.

With our bodies so close, I swear I could feel her heart beating through my armor, but she did not relent. We kissed for what seemed like forever before she pulled back again. a trail of her saliva connecting the two of us for just as second. I stared at her slack jawed as she licked her chops and grinned. She looked so happy.

I saw her then. Really saw her. Not the child I had always expected to see. Not the little lamb I had saved all those years ago. What I saw in her face and in her eyes was a woman. A woman with growing needs and desires. One who had decided that I was one of them.

Mallory had grown up to be more than cute. More than the adorable little ewe that I wanted her to be. She was an attractive ladykin. I felt myself stir beneath her as I came to that realization. My body reacted and the heat between us began to grow.

Her gold eyes were enchanting and her short hair was the color of dairy cream. With chardonnay fur that lacked any of the patches of egg shell white wool that once adorned her body, she was a far cry from the child I once knew. She’d kept herself sheared and slender, but was still very short.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons I never noticed she was growing up. She’d never gotten much taller and she hadn’t eally filled out all that much. She was a petite thing who hadn’t been blessed with enough meat on her bones to have shapely hips or motherly breasts; instead she made up for it by being as pretty as a picture and as sweet as pear. She was lovely.

I’m sorry to admit that I didn’t have much in the way of resolve when she whispered to me;

“I’ve waited forever for this. Please don’t tell me I can’t have you.”

I should have told her just that. I should have said that we couldn’t do whatever it was she wanted to do. That we were so close to the Church, and that those desires were improprietous and indecent. I should have said a lot of things. Instead I pulled her close and kissed her as vigorously as she kissed me. I don’t think we said much of anything for a while after that.

After she was done exploring my tongue with hers. She scooted down my body and rested on her knees before me. I could guess what was coming, but I didn’t stop it. I thought about it, if that counts. Nope, instead I reached out from within; using my senses to see if we were alone. She giggled as she unclasped my pants, informing me;

“Don’t worry, no one ever comes this late.”

She had my cock in her mouth before she was even done with the last syllable, and I was out of time to protest. Instead I sighed audibly as I enjoyed the feel of her tongue wrapping around the head of my penis. The little lamb made a point to make noise as she slurped and suckled the head, making little popping sounds as she pressed her lips together, then released.

Mallory did this a few times while stroking me, and I puzzled on how she’d gotten so talented at it. I didn’t want to ask, but I did. She smiled up at me devilishly and said she’d seen some things in her time, and that the postulants weren’t necessarily required to be celebate, not before taking their vows. Though she was quick to assure me that she had never experienced such a thing for herself, only watched.

“I wanted my first to be with you.” she proudly announced. Mallory admitted that it had been her plan for years.

It might have been prudent to continue that conversation, but my slender friend was not interested in talking any longer. Opening her mouth wide, she decided to try to take my full length in her mouth. It took her several tries and a little self-encouragement, but she managed it.

I was impressed.

Now most people would have the decency to feel a little awkward given our past relationship and her choice of venue. Maybe feel a little sad about her loss of innocence. Someone else might have, but me, not so much.

As one trained as a paramour, I could not sit there and disrespect the effort and honesty of her passion. This probably wasn’t easy for her to build up the courage to attempt. In my culture, if a young ladykin of age offers herself earnestly to you, it is an insult to decline. So, I just smiled and enjoyed it. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm.

Still it didn’t take me too long to reach my climax. I didn’t try to hold out any longer. I wanted to reward her efforts. I’ve sucked a dick or two in my day, and trust me, bringing your partner to ecstasy quickly is one hell of an ego boost. Especially if they cum as much as I did then.

My Mallory gave it her best try. Y’know, swallowing it all, but she just wasn’t up to the task. I had came buckets.

It was odd and arousing to see her innocent little freckled face covered in my semen. It was even more surreal to watch her lick and lap up my seed. She made a point to stare me right in the eyes as she did so. Dragging her little fingers across her muzzle, making sure to taste every drop. Tell me, how do you say no to that kind of fervor.

I leaned down and gave her a kiss on her nose. Then another on her lips before lifting her up into my arms.

“The gardener’s bedroom is near here...” she whispered wrapping her arms around my neck.

“It is my turn to tend the gardens, so we can have privacy there.”

I didn’t need much more encouragement than that. It took me less than a few hurried steps to find the door and even less to get into the room. I fairly tossed her onto the bed and she squealed with delight. I didn’t even bother to take off my armor after I kicked the door shut with my heel. Instead, I pawed forward to the edge of the bed. With all the seriousness I could muster, I asked her plainly.

“Is this really what you want?”

She didn’t even answer me. Instead, she gingerly smiled and reached down beneath her dress, hooking her panties and removing them. They were soaking wet and so was she. The little sheep didn’t take her eyes off of me the whole time. She made a soft, sensual, baaing noise as she spread her legs and beckoned me to come closer. I don’t think she looked as seductive as she thought she did. Mallory simply couldn’t hide her girlish grin, but I was still incredibly enticed.

As I was taught, I made my way down toward her pretty peach pussy. Taking in the complex fragrance of her love pit. She giggled as I ran my nose against it, my whiskers tickling her inner thighs. Perhaps if I’d have stopped to say something more to her, think about it with more clarity I’d have stopped. Instead, I took her pussy in my mouth and ran my tongue up her crevice. Her loud cry of pleasure was more than enough motivation to continue.

Now I’ll tell you, I know most of us have a perfect picture of what young maidens are like. Pure, demure, and virginal. That’s the working theory anyway. Not so among my people. I know for a fact that everyone I grew up with masturbated like crazy. I think most people are much the same, even the maidens. Once you figured out how good it feels to brush up against something, that sort of thing just takes care of itself.

I imagine it was much the same with Mallory, but given that she’d never experienced such stimulation with another person, I don’t think she was prepared for how it would feel to have me sucking hard on her clit. At least, that’s my explanation for the way she gripped me by my ears and forcefully shoved herself into my mouth. Her loud, guttural, cries were like the bleating of a distant horn. I worried that she would be heard, but she didn’t seem to care.

It went on like that; her crying out and me simply lapping up her love juices as the young ewe squirmed and bucked under my attention. Absentmindedly I worried about her sexual future. If this was truly her first experience with all this, then I was certain to give her unrealistic expectations about sex.

Don’t think me immodest to admit that I am a step above the rest when it comes to the Sexual Artes. My training as a ‘Paramour’ had been thorough. I’ve tested myself against a variety of males and females in the past. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve always managed to please; so it didn’t take long for me to light a fire inside her that exploded in a sea of her satisfaction. Between the targeted attention of my tongue against her lovely bud, to the occasional licks and probes of her inner flower, I had the little lamb singing a song of ecstasy in no time... and that’s when the real fun began.

By then I was all in. Mallory had thoroughly accomplished her goal of erasing the visage of the innocent young girl I once knew when she screamed;

“Goddess yes! Fuck! Right there! Right there!”, at the top of her lungs, I knew there was no way back. So as she came hard, grinding herself into my muzzle, I decided that I would welcome her into her womanhood properly. No more holding back.

I slipped her grip once she started to shutter and dither at my touch. Y’know, when her love button was most sensitive. Ignoring the inevitable please for time to recover and catch her breath, I pulled my naughty little nun down to me, spreading her legs wide. Her bright eyes grew large as dinner plates as I plunged my dick inside of her soaked pussy, a bit of fever in my mind.

The girl had wanted me. Longed for me, even. Spent a good few years of her life fantasizing about what it would be like to lay with her hero. I don’t have the kind of static morality that could have protected the innocence or sanctity of our previous relationship. So, given that she wanted this to happen, the outcome was probably inevitable. Instead, I decided I would do my damndest to validate her dreams and desires. If Mallory had always dreamed of this moment, as she sighed and huffed as I pressed myself inside of her, then I was going to live up to the fantasy.

Gritting my teeth and focusing on the happy sounds of pleasure she made as I slowly increased my pace, I was careful to control the amount of length she got. The initial push hadn’t been all that deep on purpose, but the more I probed, the more she mewled and begged for me to go deeper. Her body acclimated to my girth quickly. When she cried that I was ‘So much better than the toys she’d been using.’, I realized how thoroughly she’d been preparing for this day. Luckily for her I’m much better than any toy.

Pressing my cock forward and giving her every inch, my fevered thrust came quicker and more deliberate. She’d yelped and shook when I’d hit it from a certain angle, so with a little adjustment I set off to find that spot within her. When I did, I attacked it with all the vigor I could muster. Deep, powerful, thrusts designed to weaken a ladies legs. She sang for me as I gave her everything I had. It was beautiful.

She’d come hard before when I was making the music with my mouth, but her second climax was something else. In an amazing display of flexibility and core strength, Mallory shot up, pulling her upper half to me and grabbing the collars of my gambeson. She shoved her tongue in my mouth and kissed me hard while moaning and breathing heavy. The vibration made my muzzle tickle. She then fell back down, digging her fingers into the bed sheets. The ewe cried out, both body and soul. I felt the pressure of her quintessence shoot out as she came with vigor.

That’s always a possibility with those gifted by the Goddess. Our emotions are as connected to our soul bodies as our physical ones. Every awoken worth their salts learns to keep control of themselves in moments of high emotions, but Mallory didn’t seem to want to. As her essence bled into the flow around us, I could sense her orgasm in the flow. Her energy shot out like a wave, blowing out the light of the candles and scaring the birds and critters in the Garden outside. I was sure I heard the night birds cry as she screamed her ecstasy.

I came shortly thereafter. My intention was to pull out. After all, I hadn’t prepared any Mindell root, or other contraceptives. I didn’t want to get the girl pregnant, but as I pulled back Mallory grabbed me tightly. Shaking her head and whimpering, she begged me to continue. Her need was so strong I could feel it in the air. Breathing heavily, the little lamb looked me dead in the eyes and told me she wanted to ‘feel my seed inside of her’. Her eyes glowed brightly and she was smiling so desperately that I did not have the heart to deny her.

Pushing forward I hilted myself deep inside the lamb and began to wash the walls of her womanhood white with my seed. Mallory clawed desperately at the back of my neck, while sloppily kissing me as her back arched. I must have shot three or four good loads into her, because I could feel the viscous liquid oozing out past my cock, to drip down the crack of her taut, little, ass.

When I finally pulled out of her, a torrent of my manly milk came out, pooling between her legs. Mallory simply cooed.

I’d like to say that was that. That I got to take off my armor and crawl into the bed alongside her. That we slept together til morning and everything was great. Unfortunately if I said that it would be a lie.

Instead I turned to find the angry and disappointed face of a surprisingly attractive older priestess in the doorway. She was standing with her arms folded. I had no idea how long she had been there.

“Uh... can I help you with something?” I asked, not knowing what else to say. The nun, Sister Floria, smiled at me and nodded.

“Please clean yourself and wait outside Sir Vandeleur, I must speak with our postulant in private.”

She didn’t sound angry, just tired. She tossed me a damp cloth and stepped out of my way. As I cleaned myself carefully, I noticed her pupils dilate and her scent change. Apparently Mallory wasn’t the only one who appreciated a little Palawan flavor. My little lamb was behind me, squirming in the bedsheets, unable to take her eyes off my body as I cleaned myself.

I thought it a little hypocritical that Sister Floria shouted for Mallory to ‘Get control of herself!’, when she had spent the better part of a minute staring at me too. The impish part of me wondered if I could seduce the beautiful lioness, but unlike Lil’ Mal, she was already affirmed. I don’t know if sex with her would be a sin, but it would be much more frowned upon that what I’d just done. I took my queue and waited outside.

To say it got awkward from there is an understatement.

Firstly, nuns and postulants gossip like hens. The entire abbey knew what had happened by half past the light of dawn. I was not stoned or ran out of the holy place by priests with pitchforks. Instead, most acted like nothing happened. The sisters and brothers of the church were increasingly polite. Though, I got closer looks from some of the nuns, especially novitiates and postulants who had yet to affirm their vows. Even had a blessed sister, a lovely heifer named Mia, proposition me. I regretfully declined, but she insisted we’d ‘talk about it later’.

The High Priestess, a mature leopard named Shefrin summoned me to her office later that day. Inside Sister Floria, Sister Mia, and Brother Ashur awaited me, with Mallory sitting off to the side. There I learned that the young healers feelings and intentions for me had been no secret, and that she’d even told Sister Mia of her plans.

Brother Ashur seemed a bit disturbed by that, but Sister Floria simply nodded. She apparently approved. She’d hoped Mallory would find a less erotic way to test her faith, but understood the ‘wants of youth’. The council had convened not to punish or admonish us for what happened, but to decide the young girl’s future.

The question was whether or not our little romp had changed anything. After knowing the pleasures of the flesh, did Mallory still want to serve the Church as an affirmed sister, or would she follow the path of a ‘Ministrata’ as Sister Mia had for many years. As an unaffirmed sister, chastity would not be a requirement. Only modesty. Though unaffirmed sisters could not be priestesses.

The Sisters were pushing for the latter option, arguing that she could explore her life as a woman before deciding whether or not she wanted to give herself over to the love of the goddess, or the ministrations of the mundane. Brother Ashur urged that she take her vows, claiming that she’d ‘had her fun’, but with healing talent like hers she had a higher calling. A duty to the children of the Goddess. I did not chime in.

It didn’t take long for Mallory to make her decision, though it wasn’t one I had expected. It was that decision made merely a week ago, and the story behind it, that had my dear friend Reese giving me such grief.

“Your mere presence has steered the girl from a righteous path. What right had you to deter her?” he scolded. I shrugged. I didn’t do any steering at all. She made her choice all her own. I didn’t try to influence her either way, but Reese just scoffed at that notion.

“Bah, I believe that like I believe that fool Adolyn is a simple swordsman. You had a hand in this whether you think so or not.” he groaned. I put my arm around his shoulder and smiled my best smile.

“As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.” I insisted. Reese eyed me dubiously.

“I have half a mind to take this up with Prince Vandell.” he warned weakly, a smile cracking on his face.

“Yeah, cause that’ll make it better. Doubt letting him get his claws into her would be good for anyone...” I teased. Reese shrugged and gave me an exhausted look.

“True enough, but I doubt she’ll be secret from him for long. Given your connection, he’ll want to meet her.” He assured me. I was forced to agree.

“Who would want to meet me?” came Mallory’s soft voice from beyond the doorway.

Reese and I had been waiting outside of the room for some time. As Mallory exited, Reese bowed formally at the waist. She greeted him as formally, placing a hand over her heart and bowing a bit. I just folded my arms and whistled.

“That looks good on you.” I complimented, observing her outfit. She blushed and did a little twirl.

“Fit’s much better than my habit... though the hat’s a little heavier.” she said of the fancy coif atop her head. It had a small plate of enchanted metal on the top, with the emblem of the ravenhawk embossed in gold; but unlike the sigil on Reese and I’s armor, her’s had an extra set of wings. The wings of the goddess.

Mallory had chosen a third option, that was really just the second with extra steps. She desired to follow me and lend her healing artes to the Sacred Order of Ravens. Though I insisted against it, both Sister Floria and Sister Mia seemed to like the idea. They pointed out that she could serve as a Ministrata for the Order, and that several postulants already did. I had not known there were any differences in the Clerics that served the Order, but got a small education about it when the lamb decided to pursue that path.

There were apparently Librarium trained Clerics and those raised up in the Church. The only difference between them according to our Master at Arms, Megogo, was that Librarium trained clerics were battle ready and those like Mallory were more or less ‘white mages’. The way they were deployed and who they were with was quite different. Mallory was distressed that without any combat training, she and I would never work together. She resolved to put effort into that in the future. Reese was a bit skeptical of that, and warned me again that I ‘shouldn’t be collecting a harem’ within the Order.

“Too much drama where you lay will come back to bite you.” He warned as we watched Mallory walk off to join the other initiates. I of course took offense to that, but Reese continued.

“The ladies here aren’t Palawan, boy, they’re not gonna want to ‘all play nice’.” he insisted. I shrugged him off and waved to Mallory as she walked off.

I’m a freelancer, everyone knows that. If one day I manage to choose a ‘dedja’, great, but until then this bit of exotic flavor is equal opportunity. Even so, I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my days with one woman if it was someone as adorable and loving as Mallory. I couldn’t imagine any of the ladies who fancied me hating her. That was until I felt a small hand press at the mid of my back, and turned to find my adjutant, Lyndaria, standing there.

“Case and point...” Reese whispered looking away.

“So, I hear you're really close to the new girl.” Lyndaria mused playfully. It was really a question, for she didn't look at me.

“We’re close, yes... I’ve known her for many years.” I replied anyway. The little lynx still did not look my way. Her eyes were focused on Mallory and the other mages.

“She’s cute, but she’s no Sarissa or Queen. I’m not too worried.” she shrugged, staring at the cleric with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.

Without a word she simply stood up on her tippy toes and kissed me on the cheek. She slapped my ass before walking away, promising that;

“‘Mallory can get to the back of the line like the rest of those thirsty bitches.”, as she walked away.

I tried not to turn and look at Reese. Knowing he would be wearing that smug smile of his, but I couldn’t help it. I just had to smile sheepishly. In a swift motion that I caught, but didn’t defend against, he slapped me on the back of the head and sighed.

“It’s because of you that I sure they need to rethink the rules of fraternization in this Order.” he grumbled rolling his eyes. I shrugged and leaned against the wall and went back to watching the initiates as they lined up in the main hall. A stupid grin on my face.

I said nothing as we observed Mallory’s first day in the Sacred Order of Raven Knights. Perhaps Reese was right; maybe my very presence changed the course of the young lambs life. Brother Ashur could be right that she had a higher calling than this. But, if it all ends up with someone I care for deeply being close enough for me to love and protect, I think I don’t mind being a little sacrilegious. As she turned her head back toward me and gave me a little wink, I knew that my little Mallory didn't mind either.