Milestones
Shadows as deep as wells clung like spiderwebs within the amphitheatre. The ancient walls were not even bared by the globes of light set upon the dais at the room's center. Six set into a wide circle, the light only casting shadows into the center of the circle, as six figures covered in dark cloaks stood before each globe, their cowls unpierced by the dim illumination.
Gathered upon the descending rows of seats sat the adults of the community. They stirred, anxious, their whispering chatter climbing up the arched ceiling.
A harsh clap from the top of the steps, and all turned to watch the eldest of them step downward, the red tabard and white smock trailing over the stones behind, along with his naked tail. Every eye that befell him added a shroud of power and respect, which he held with the regal quality that accompanied each motion. In paw hung a staff, long and weighted with the ages, much like its owner. With each step, down it came in a gentle brush over the stair. Into the circle's center he walked, beginning a low chant that crept from the ancient one, the echo slithering up the arced ceiling.
A gesture from the eldest summoned something white lingering the depths of the chamber's shadows. Into the circle of light stepped another shrouded in anonymity, the newcomer covered in a cloak of white.
As the chant suddenly rose, the elder raised his staff and brought the tip upon the stone in a clap. Delicate tan fingers slipped from within the ivory cloak to peel it back, baring the slight form beneath. Pert, small breasts, pale like the belly, contrasted with the tawny sand of the fur that ran across taut flanks and back, and the slender, naked tail behind. Tossing the cloak aside freed the tumult of her hair, curls treated with ashen grays up to blacks that bared the likeness of thunderclouds. Eyes that held the innocence of youth, swimming in brown pools of nervousness, regarded the eldest. He merely provided a cant of his head, never interrupting his words.
The chant climbed deeper from within him as he began to pace the circle, punctuating the timeless tongue with the point of his staff upon the rock, thunder unleashed before each cloaked one. One circuit around the dais he stepped until stopping before one of the hidden. Out came his staff, tapping the figure on the shoulder.
The chosen stepped forth, cloak sweeping forward. As the figure approached, the garment spread open, baring a broad, bare chest with muscles that had begun to wear down. White fur has been peppered by the graceful wane of time with silver strands.
Out came an ivory paw to touched her upon the shoulder. Careful as though she might be broken, but it moved, circled the spot to ruffle her fur, rub against the grain only to smooth it down once more. Apt digits moved lower, ghosting over her delicate breast to place within his palm. Not so crude as to squeeze, the paw pressed in faint and stirred, dragging the palm across the peaking rosebud to her bosom as fingertips fanned out, tracing the edge of her breast.
And so it went, fingertips stroking over every inch of her, every where that digit found she tensed and quivered. It came to a slow end with a touch upon her cheek and chin, her muzzle tilted up and into the dark hood to meet with soft, welcoming lips. A kiss tender, gone as slowly as it had begun.
At last the hidden man stepped back and parted the concealing shroud. Beneath lay the long stretch of pale fur, veril despite the test of time, squared shoulders and arms honed with years of work. He was firm, standing tall and ready, and the sight of it stole breath from the girl.
He came forward, cautious as if she would scurry away. Instead hesitant steps drew her to him, to touch, to feel his chest and the pudge of his stomach, then tentatively the hot stretch of flesh. Tracing with fingertips, stroking with palm, cupping and squeezing, the girl took her time with the exploration as though a map of masculine geography was being burned into her memory. Quickened breath ushered from the hood with each grace upon his contours, muscles tensing and rising beneath her palm.
Eyes the brown of river silt raised to gaze into the cowl to see the face of he, but the darkness kept his anonymity. Those gathered in the theater might notice who were beneath the concealment, but for her it was secret. It was sacred.
After an eternity to her beating heart, she drew her hands up to settle on his shoulders. Once more the two drew close, lips disappearing beneath the veil. As lips parted, the girl's breath broke as she whispered simply, "Yes." Hands settled on her shoulders and together they knelt upon the circle.
With eyes shut tight she eased back until legs framed the stranger's hips. For a moment she bade halt with an upraised hand, then lowered once her breath was collected, clutched tight, unwilling to be freed. With a shift, the cloak's folds descend over her, shielding the coupling from those gathered, baring only her anxious visage. Careful precision guided every motion of his entrance, stopping once to met the resistance. Then he proceeded with necessary firmness.
Silence was shattered with a cry, her hand wrenching the paw offered to her. The wail climbed to the ceiling until loins finally married. Pain subsided, and with it the dawning of pleasure in depths suddenly charted. Still she clung to him, squeezing his hand, tightened her legs, anchoring herself for the true motions to begin.
Ebb and flow, the pair rocked, lacking any hurry. Gasps soon became throatier, deeper, melting into something dredged from the depths, leaving quaking flesh in their wake. After a time unknown to her, a hitch of sound slides from within the cowl and a warmth that spread through her. The motions of pressed bodies eased to a stillness where just the warmth and weight of each other was savored.
Reluctance saturated every inch of his movement from her, but still he drew away, leaving her body stretched across the floor, thighs held closed to keep the feeling of him there. Finally her eyes opened and she took the hand offered down to her. On shaking feet she stood as he stepped back to his place.
Moments stretched on, the girl collecting herself, staring out into the watching community, and finally she breathed out and turned to the ancient one to give a solemn nod. Stirring from his stillness, he began walking, taking two circuits before his staff tapped a figure's shoulder.
A striding step brought the second into the circle, each motion swift and ready. Salt-and-pepper hands stretch from the cloak to have ber, drawing the slim body against the taller stranger.
Like some storm the figure boiled over her, sudden and intense and consuming all. Hands prove firm and demanding, sliding along curves, clutching, rubbing. Yet there is no haste in the gestures, just boldness laying claim. These new hands roamed every inch, finding the places that made her gasp and press close. Each place then received full attention of fingers, lips and tongue, insistent until her body grew taut and breath high, then sagging with weakened knees.
An arm held her flush to the concealed form while fingers played along the curve of spine, the line of thigh. Lips toyed with her throat, finally coaxing out a strangled, "Yes."
Gripping paws dragged her down upon her knees, then guided her forward. Once more fingers and lips found the places that drew her voice high, hips raising in delight. So presented, the figure took advantage,rising up and making the girl keenly aware of his gender with a fierce push.
She was taken. Every roll of his body and grasping squeeze of hands claimed her, but every moment was given for her; each jerk of hips sought the angles that drew a squeak, digits squeezing and pushing and pulling every delicate region to draw her body tight like a bow. Even the positions change, the girl rolled on her side, then back with feet high, it assails her under the expert tutelage of flesh. Pleasure overcame her once, twice before the motions of her partner grew broken and urgent, and once more the heat spread through her as a hitched cry burst from the cowl.
Pooled on the circle floor, his breath fanning her cheek, she glowed with contentment and ache. The stranger finally rose, stepping away to leave her open to all eyes. Brushing hair from her eyes, she contented herself with smoothing the fur over her arms and sides, basking in the lingering feeling of warmth upon the idle sensations, her body aching for the exercise and all ready missing those able paws.
When she finally had risen, the ancient one held a folded parcel of red. At the sight tears welled in her eyes. As he crossed to her, the pulse of her heart had climbed into her mouth. Breath was lost to her when the red robe was presented.
"Ahsara," spoke he in a voice weighted with proclamation, "You are now a woman."