In honor of the shortest night of the year, a little snippet from my story “Midwinter” from Eat the Peach. And oh yeah, it’s pretty racy stuff, so consider yourself warned.
In the cold, dark night before the shortest day, the priestess Alena dreamed of summer. She was a maiden again, one of many who might be chosen as the vessel of the Goddess, and she was waiting. All of the maidens were waiting at the center of the circle, hands clasped, as the unholy villagers gathered around them to echo their sacred songs. Any of the holy maidens could be chosen by the Summer King, but Alena knew inside her dream, as she had known that night, that she would be the one.
She heard screaming from the forest at the foot of the hill, the shouts of the Summer King and his huntsmen drawing closer. The maiden beside her squeezed her hand, trembling like a leaf in a high wind. All of them were trembling, voices quavering. But Alena wasn’t afraid.
The king burst from the trees, head lowered—the chosen of the Goddess. His name was Wil, and she had known he’d be the one to take down the stag. The Goddess had whispered the secret in her ear the first moment Alena had seen him. The great antlers were fastened on his head, and the blood of the stag was streaked through his hair and down his naked arms and chest. The other maidens quickly looked away from him, eyes fixed on the ground, voices rising higher as the villagers hailed the new king and his huntsmen. Alena didn’t look down, and she stopped singing. She looked the consort of the Goddess in the eye, thinking, I choose you. The king started toward her, and she broke from the circle and ran.
She made him chase her back into the trees, away from the ritual, so far she couldn’t hear the others any more, only his breathing behind her and the pounding of her own heart. She ran as fast and as far as she could, making him prove himself worthy of the Goddess. If he hadn’t caught her, she would have run all night or dropped dead a virgin in the wood.
But he had caught her. His hand came down on her shoulder, knocking her off balance, and as she fell, he caught her, carrying her to the ground. She pushed against his shoulders, but she didn’t fight. He had won her; she would yield. When his mouth came down on hers, she kissed him gladly, twining her arms around his neck. His eyes were warm and soft, but his cock curved hard against her stomach, and she tasted the blood of the stag on his mouth. She called out the name of the Goddess as he drove inside her, and there was no pain, only waves and waves of pleasure as he filled her up.
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