Sacred Rites

by Ines Johnson

  Emet could do nothing about Adom's slow play, would do nothing if given a choice. He was bound and completely at Adom's mercy. Just the way Adom liked his lover.

  Now naked, Adom allowed Emet a quick glance before disappearing behind him. Emet kept still while Adom's dick poked him as he worked. He knew if he leaned into Adom, Adom would delay his pleasure longer. That was the last thing Emet wanted. He allowed Adom his game, showing the male he knew what he could give him. That he wanted to go exactly where Adom was about to take him.

  Emet shuddered when he heard metal meet metal as Adom reached for a sling on the rig and attached the ropes that bound him to it. This bent Emet slightly forward. Only the balls of his feet remained on the ground. The ropes supported the rest of his weight. Emet closed his eyes, remembering the first time Adom tied him up.

  Adom had found an old text on an ancient art form called Shibari in the temple library. He'd thought it beautiful and wanted to learn. Emet agreed to allow Adom to practice on him. Even that first time, giving himself over to Adom's unpracticed hands, lifted a world of weight off of Emet, who even as a young man felt the weight of injustice rest on his shoulders. He volunteered for Adom's lessons again, and then again.

  The feel of throbbing flesh at his ass brought Emet back to the present. Adom slicked Emet's asshole with warm oil and then entered slowly. Emet rose even higher on his toes. He ached to push back against his lover to speed up his progress. But he couldn't. The ropes left him completely in Adom's hand. Even if he could have, he wouldn't have. Apart from the relief of Adom filling him, Emet craved the release of all the pressures he carried in the world. The ropes relieved him of every burden.

  The words spoken by the Male Voice doubting Emet's abilities, left him.

  The injustices Emet encountered with his cases of wrongdoings against mankind alleviated.

  The micro aggressions of women each man faced daily flitted away.

  By the Goddess’ mercy, Adom picked up his pace. He began a brutal pounding. Emet's hard dick slapped against his lower belly, and then his upper thighs. He desperately needed something, any kind of friction to relieve his aching cock, but he knew Adom wouldn't touch him until he was ready.

  Adom didn't need to touch Emet to make him climax. Adom was a hound, and hounds first learned the art of male pleasure. Adom knew exactly what buttons to push and where to push Emet over the cliff. He pounded the bundle of nerves deep in Emet's ass until Emet howled his release. His ejaculate sprayed across the floor. His chest heaved.

  Adom withdrew, but he didn't slow his assault. Adom never stopped at a single orgasm.

  His brain still fogged with orgasmic bliss, Emet felt his lover sink to his knees behind him. He felt Adom's tongue at his ass, rimming his still contracting hole. Adom laved his lover until Emet squirmed for mercy.

  Finally Adom gave it. Emet felt Adom's hand on his dick. But the feather light touch drove Emet to whimper in protest. He heard Adom chuckle behind him. The man reduced his feather light touch to a teasing graze at the tip of Emet's cock head.

  Emet growled in protest. He struggled against the ropes in an effort to get more of the friction he needed. When Emet's limited movements became frantic, Adom finally firmed his tongue and his touch. In seconds, Emet's seed sprang forth again. This time further away.

  But once, twice, was never enough for Adom. He rose and impaled himself once more inside Emet. Emet reared back. He felt Adom's hand running along the contours of his back, memorizing the lines of his form. Cataloguing the hills and valleys of the musculature all so he could translate it with lead, clay and paint later.

  Emet allowed the perusal. All tension gone from his body. It was total surrender. Exactly what Adom craved. Precisely what Emet needed. Adom went slow and deep into Emet until Emet felt another orgasm building from within. This time, when his muscles contracted, Adom went over the edge with him.

  It was long moments later when Adom released Emet so his heels planted back on the ground. When Emet opened his eyes, Adom untied the knots and massaged Emet's forearms. He'd likely passed out, a common occurrence with Adom's lovemaking and the bliss of the rigid ropes.

  Adom brought a cushioned chair over for Emet to rest in. He planted a light kiss on Emet's lips before he turned to put his ropes away.

  "Hungry?" Emet asked, his gaze on the material in Adom's hands.

  Adom nodded as he wound the ropes with careful loops.

  "Me too. I'll warm something up for us both. I'm going to have a lot of late nights with the Male Voice. I'll be going up against Lady Alyss. It shouldn't be too hard. She's more concerned with her shoes matching her dress than-"

  "What was that name?"

  "Lady Alyss. I told you this. She's Lady Merlyn's sister. You know I like Merlyn, even more now that she's renounced her research. But her family hasn't. They'll pursue this with their last breath. Do you want soup?"

  Emet rose on jelly legs and waited for them to solidify before turning to face Adom for his answer.

  Adom stood frozen with rope coiled around his palms. "I'm not hungry."

  "You just said you were."

  "I'm going to take a shower and then head to bed." Adom balled the rope and then tossed it into the drawer. He turned and kissed Emet absently before heading upstairs.

  Emet pulled on his pants. He put the caps on Adom's paint jars. Adom could get distracted when he was working. Emet chalked up the male's capricious appetite to that.

  Emet took another look at the painting. Emet hadn't looked at a woman sexually in years. He spent too much time protecting himself and others against their sex to want to engage in the act with one of them. But the girl of Adom's imagination was lovely.

  Without a second glance, Emet went over to the studio's entrance and turned out the light.

  5

  "These are simply exquisite."

  "I told you, my lady. He is-" Geoffri hushed at the lady's raised hand. Not only did he shush himself, he put his own hand over his mouth and closed his eyes in shame at his actions.

  Lady Jayne, the gallery’s patroness and namesake, paid him no mind. Her eyes were on Adom. "And you did these yourself?"

  Adom forced a smile to his lips. He nodded, not trusting his words. Lady Jayne's eyes lingered on his mouth longer than was socially acceptable.

  "It's just they are simply exquisite,” she repeated. “The color choice, the curves of your lines, the brush strokes." She turned back to Adom, perusing more than his mouth this time.

  Behind her Geoffri bounced on his feet like a child. He actually gave Adom the thumb's up sign as though he should be glad of the woman's backhanded praise and lascivious glances. Adom didn't need either of their opinions to validate his work. He knew they were exquisite, as exquisite as his muse.

  No, not his muse. After these paintings sold, he'd need to put her out of his mind. Forever.

  And it looked like these paintings would sell. Alongside the first painting of the Goddess asleep on a red earth representing the destruction of man, hung a second painting of the goddess awaking and sitting up. In this depiction, her face rose to the dawning sun, her hands glided over green grass. And then came the third and final painting in the series. His goddess stood on the firmament, arms outstretched as the world came to life around her.

  "We'll need more," said Lady Jayne.

  "More?" Adom frowned. He only planned for one, was thrilled to sell three. But he could do no more. He would not be seeing his muse again. Not ever. When he returned home he was prepared to courier over her dress and never see her again. Forever.

  "Of course we'll need more. We can't fill the gallery with just these three."

  "Fill the gallery?" Adom wasn't sure if he spoke out loud. He was certain he'd misheard the lady.

  A discard had never shown in this gallery before. Having a wall was the chance of a lifetime. She couldn't have said he, a discard and former pleasure monk, would have the entire gallery to display only his work.

  Geoffri no
dded his head enthusiastically. "Lady Jayne has given you your own show. All on the theme of the Goddess. Isn't it wonderful."

  "I've pushed back the opening for two weeks," she said generously. "You'll be ready." It wasn't a question. Women of her status didn't ask. They commanded.

  Adom bristled at the order. His fingers clenched to capture her wrists, tie them over her head, and...nothing. It ended there. There was no sexual attraction to this woman.

  With one final glance that spent more time south of his body than migrating birds, Lady Jayne walked away, their business concluded. Geoffri at her heels.

  Adom left the gallery in a daze.

  His own show. It was what he'd dreamed for years. His own work, his vision, displayed for everyone to see.

  He could do this. He could do more. His mind itched to do more paintings of her; Lady Alyss. She'd invaded his thoughts three months ago and then grew to dominate his entire being in just a day. He didn't have to see her in the flesh. She was in his head. He could keep her in his head and stay away from her in reality. When Adom returned home, he saw it would not be as simple as he thought.

  She stood waiting outside the locked door of his storefront. Her arms crossed over her ample chest. Her foot tapped the ground. Her lips pursed in a pout as she glanced at the unmovable doorknob. As though she sensed his study of her, she turned to him, breathless. The sun chose that moment to shine its rays on her brown skin. Her wild curls sparkled and stretched in greeting.

  "What kind of business do you run that you close at odd hours of the day?"

  In answer, Adom bowed.

  "I came for my dress," she said when he straightened without a word.

  She looked like a queen on a mountaintop, reigning down edicts to her subjects. Adom climbed the steps slowly, taking in her every detail for his next painting.

  She squirmed under his gaze. "Is it ready?"

  Adom reached his hand out. She inhaled, moving slightly. His hand grazed her hip as he reached for the door handle. With a flick of his wrist he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He pressed his body against the door, and waited for her to cross the threshold. They stared at each other for a moment. He itched to mix paint to match the color of her churning gold eyes.

  "You don't talk much," she said.

  "I prefer colors to words."

  She smiled, and it lit her whole face. "Me too."

  Adom knew he should walk away from her. Hand her her dress and then lock his door and his mind to her. But that smile, the light in her eyes, it called to him. To more than his need to capture her expression.

  "Your dress is ready, my lady."

  She turned from him and stepped further inside.

  Adom followed and shut the door behind him.

  The dress hung on a rack in the center of the room. He'd covered it in plastics, preparing to have it couriered. She ran a hand over it as though it were precious.

  "I'd like to try it on."

  That would be a mistake. The last thing he needed was an image of her naked in his dressing room.

  "The dressing rooms are through there," he pointed off to the side.

  When she came out a few moments later, Adom's dick throbbed. He ducked behind the counter.

  "It's a little tight in the bodice."

  "It's supposed to be." His voice grated on its way out of his throat.

  She stood before the mirror. The woven threads hugged her every curve. The knots down the center of the dress were perfectly aligned. Adom made the dress a year ago. It was as though he'd made it for her alone.

  "Woven ropes." She ran her hands over the choice of fabric. "Wherever did you get such a clever idea?"

  Adom didn't answer. His fingers gripped the counter.

  She turned and sauntered over to him. "How much do I owe you?"

  "It's yours."

  She blinked. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm certain you need the money. It doesn't look like you have many...any customers. Which is a shame since you really are talented. But I suppose women just aren't used to males with Goddess-given talents."

  "No, they're not, my lady."

  "Well, your business will pick up once people see me in this dress and-"

  She picked up a piece of parchment. Paper wasn't rare, but what was on the paper must've caught her attention. It was the sketch of the Goddess walking the firmament. He'd drawn it after her initial visit to his shop.

  "This is simply exquisite.”

  Adom cringed at her use of adverb.

  “Though why you chose this shade of yellow is beyond me," she wrinkled her nose. "She has my skin tone. My best color is purple."

  Adom straightened his face and took a purple pencil from his stash below the counter. He went over the yellow lines with the purple pencil. "You're right."

  "Also the green isn't dark enough. Do you have something more like a teal or a viridian?"

  Adom found both colors.

  Lady Alyss took the viridian pencil from him and added to his purple lines. His mouth watered, his heart pounded, as he watched her deface his art. He tore his his from her face and gazed down at her work to realize...

  "You're an artist."

  The pencil froze in her hands. Then as though it were hot, she dropped it. "No," she said firmly. "I'm not."

  She didn't meet his eyes. She reached for her purse and pulled out gems. More gems than the dress was worth. She reached her palm out to him. Adom opened his palm. When their skin made contact he felt a spark. From the flare in her eyes, he knew she felt it to.

  She looked away from him and back down to the drawing. Her eyes roamed the contours of the woman's face. Then she looked back at him. Then back down to the drawing. He saw the connection being made in her eyes in real time.

  "Is this...is this me?"

  Adom didn't answer.

  She picked up the drawing and looked at it again, anew. Her eyes going wide. "It is me. You made me..."

  Her eyes went back to him. He knew what she would say before she said it. She would ask him to do her portrait. Some boring pastoral creation. He prepared himself to say no. Told himself he couldn't. Told himself to think about Emet and all he'd worked for. All they'd both worked for. He couldn't be alone with a woman. He shouldn't even be talking to this one in light of her occupation, her current assignment, which directly opposed his bondmate. The last time he'd been alone with a woman had nearly cost him his freedom. This one would cost more than his life. She'd cost the life and livelihood of the man he loved, the only person on the face of the Earth who understood and accepted him.

  Adom hadn't told Emet about his dealings with Lady Alyss because he'd planned to make it a non-issue by never seeing her again outside of his imagination. Not telling him last night was one thing. But not telling him after today would be another. And if they worked together he'd have to tell him. Emet would definitely see this as a betrayal.

  So when Lady Alyss opened her mouth to finish her sentence, Adom swallowed down his desire and prepared to answer her with the only answer he could.

  "You made me look fat," she frowned.

  Adom burst into laughter.

  "You've got my skin coloring right, but my hair is wrong. That won't due. You'll have to do it again. And this time, we'll use more purple."

  Adom laughed harder. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed like this.

  "I don't see what's so funny?"

  "I don't see what makes you think you can order me around. I'm not your bondmate, my lady."

  "Thankfully."

  Adom winced.

  "Don't feel insulted. I have no interest in bonding ever, with any man."

  Adom had never met a woman disinterested in bonding and having little girls. Lady Alyss just became more and more intriguing. "But you have an interest in art?"

  She hesitated while considering her words. "I have an interest in beautiful things."

  "You think my work is beautiful?"

  "I think this is the most beautiful art I've ever s
een in my life. And I've seen a lot of art. But you've rendered some elements wrong. I like for things to be perfect."

  Adom looked her over, not a hair out of place. Her jewelry matched her wardrobe down to the hue of her shoes.

  "I've hated every portrait ever done of me. You did this from memory. Imagine what you could do if I sat for you?"

  6

  Alyss hung the dress in her closet. She’d wear it tomorrow and be the envy of every female in the Chamber. Most of the girls followed her fashion sense, trying to copy whatever she did day to day. But Alyss was always one step ahead of them. This time she’d be leaps ahead. And when they asked her where she got the dress, she wouldn’t tell. She’d say it was a private designer made especially for her: a one of a kind.

  Which was the truth. The dress felt as though it were designed especially for her. Adom did excellent work on the tailoring. The fabric molded to her curves in perfection. Alyss was tall with a narrow waist, ample breasts and a large derriere. Everyone envied her for her derriere. Those and her breeding hips that were good for fashion. She hadn’t minded that Adom had drawn her with a few extra pounds. Alyss admired art from the Grecian time period where women were drawn with more flesh on their bones. But to her it was a matter of perfection. And he was so near to capturing her image perfectly. He just needed to make a few adjustments.

  She ran her fingers over the fabric of her dress. The texture of the ropes on her fingertips sent a sizzle down her spine. Instead of pulling away, Alyss leaned into the gown. She caught the faint scent of Adom’s musk and paint. Alyss’ hands itched to hold a brush. She hadn’t experienced the urge in months.

  Before she made a conscious decision, her feet were already in motion. She made her way down to Merlyn’s old lab. She hadn’t been there in months. Not since Merlyn left.

  The door was unlocked. When she entered, the entire room was empty. The tables clear of beakers, microscopes, and cages. She actually missed seeing her sister in here with all of her vermin, bent over a scope, and jotting down notes in a paper book. She even missed the sight of Liam slunk down in a back corner, sneaking glances at her sister when he should’ve been calculating his numbers.