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The sky was clear, a placid shade of aqua. It was a problem. For while the temperature was easy to work under, there had not been a cloud of rain in months. The village was coming close to tapping out the cenotes and other irrigation for the year. Rain was needed to keep the crops healthy. The priests had followed their normal routine of sacrifice, but it only seemed to be working to keep the sun in the sky. It was decided that a more direct prayer to the gods was needed. One of their own would have to offer whatever they could, even if it was their own heart.

Izel looked up at the altar atop her temple. The breeze moved her hair softly and she started to climb, dust from the stone steps grinding under her footpads. The priestess blood let out a soft sigh, steeling herself for the task ahead. She was the youngest full priestess among the local villagers at three fives and three, but already even though the jaguar had the stigma of cougar blood, she still was already fairly powerful. She was a caretaker of a temple of the outskirts of town, a high position to already have. The combination of power and youth, it was felt, would make for a proper offering.

Izel was grateful that the site for the ceremony would be her own temple. Not just for the familiarity of every carving and stone around her, but for the remoteness. There were a few attendants and several priests watching, but there was a lack of the crowds at larger temples to watch her discomfort as she ascended the steps.

She walked gingerly as the feeling grew, a burn between her thighs. Her simple loincloth felt confining as her loins ached with need, that not even her fingers could ease. She prided herself on her chastity, a rigid standard of purity to maintain her power. But with every heat that passed, her body demanded to be filled, to perform its natural purpose. She had to admit that she was even beginning to look longingly at her acolytes, flashes of attraction at their every curve hidden behind thin linens.

Izel panted as she arrived at the top of the temple, its altar stone and chac mol freshly scrubbed and salted for their duties. She grunted a bit, feeling heady with the rush of hormones that halting her movement brought. She regretted now her decision to hide her condition, excited simply to do her part as a priestess, and now it was far too late to back out now. Her attendants, two young ocelots just entering their own paths on the priestly order, carried her priestly accessories as they climbed the faster steps from the inner temple to the altar, and walked forward with water and oil, ready to purify the one to beg divine favor.

One of the attendants carefully took up the ties to Izel's loincloth, untying them to let the cloth drop at the priestess' feet, then bringing her hands to slowly remove the several golden necklaces from around Izel's head that denoted her rank, and handed them all to the other acolyte who placed them on a portable dais. As her body became bared to the world, Izel took in a breath, wondering if the two girls were detecting her scent, and blushed. If they did, they seemed not to notice as a cloth with water was brought to Izel's body to start the purifying process. The acolyte with the cloth began at her face, brushing the priestess' hair from her eyes, before gently moving down to her shoulders and arms in careful motion that was learned in several months of attending to Izel's needs. Though the acolyte tried her best to brush over Izel's fur lightly, Izel was too on edge to not feel just the lightest bits of feeling from the rubbing, making her close her eyes and bite her lip to prevent any telltale sighs from coming from her mouth when the wet cloth reached her modest breasts, rubbing ever so lightly on her pointed nipples.

Izel had to admit deep in her soul that there were days she considered her acolytes in a different fashion than attendants. Especially when she was in a state much like her current, thoughts bubbled up of rubbing her body against the nubile ocelots, the sheer idea that their delicate touch were used for more than bathing and preparing her body for ceremonies, of how they would all sound in passionate embraces. Izel tried to close her last thought, as a slight smell of arousal drifted into her nostrils. Her acolytes were in good form today though, ignoring their priestess' discomfort to prevent embarrassment.

As if to drive her over the edge even further, one the first acolyte finished cleansing Izel's top, the other opened the vials of corn oil and rubbed them where the cleansing cloth had already gone, leaving the priestess glistening. Both acolytes were moving with practiced slowness, the washer reaching Izel's white stomach adorned with an ornate sun tattoo as the oiler kneaded her breasts.

The resultant rubbing had Izel purring softly, a rumble in her throat as she desperately tried not to moan. Were they going slower today? Perhaps they were enjoying making her squirm, wanting to carnally please her line in her dreams. The moments passed agonizingly; the washer reached her delicate flesh between her thighs and passed the cloth very softly by, creating a pained and muffled moan from Izel's closed mouth. A short while later, the oil was applied to the same enflamed flesh, eliciting another moan and leaving her nethers glistening with another liquid entirely.

When the slow cleansing torture was finished, she was panting, nearly too tense for her acolytes to redress. Her necklaces and trinkets were reapplied, layered over her breasts as a covering along with her long bangs. A new white loincloth, representing the purity of her station was applied between her legs, a drawstring adorned with turquoise knotted around her hips. The feeling of the soft fabric brushing against her mound made Izel moan further, but she carried on, taking the obsidian knife offered and sliding it carefully between her fur and the loincloth string. She nodded to both acolytes and walked to the altar, bidding them to return to their alcove. The would be needed later, but could not witness this ceremony yet.

Beginning the chants to open the gods' ears for prayer, Izel drew the blade from its place at her hip. The wind blew her hair from her shoulders, leaving only the gold necklaces to shield her breasts from view as she finished the opening to the long practiced ceremony. She pricked her thumb with the knife and allowed her blood to drip into the stone chac mol. She called out, "I, Izel, high priestess to the temple of Huitzilopochtli, am but a humble servant to the gods. I offer my lifeblood up and anything else that they would wish of me so that they would spare my village and people. Please, bring life-giving rain to our lands, to quench the crops thirst for water, so we may continue to thrive and bring you what you desire!"

She brought her hands down, kneeling on top of the altar as she brought the obsidian knife to her chest. Waiting for a sign that she would need to sacrifice her own life, the glass bit into her flesh, a small red prick of blood already welling up, tracing the valley in her abdomen that lead to her navel. She was prepared.

"THAT WILL NOT BE NECESSARY," a voice boomed from the sky, as the wind suddenly picked up from everywhere at once, and a large shadow began to block out the sun. Izel fell back, bringing up an arm to shield the rest of the sun as the form became clear. Iridescent feathers covered its body as it twined and rolled, shrinking only a little to accommodate its landing on the top of the pyramid.

Izel widened her eyes then averted them. It was Quetzalcoatl! The feathered serpent brought its tail to tenderly take her chin and had her look into his rainbowed yellow eyes. His voice dropped in octave to not ruin her ears. "I require an entirely different sacrifice from you, Izel."