Her Alien Priest by Michele Mills
Cabal
The sexy human trainee sleeps in the room next to mine.
I open my eyes and stretch my arms, smiling at the thought. My cock is hard and painful in my loincloth, leaking seed and ready to sink into her warmth. Whenever she is near, her arousal is thick in the air and I desperately want to lift her in my arms, brace her against the nearest stone wall and pleasure mate her again and again and again. I want to remove the heavy fabric of her robe, bite her nipples raw and suck on her clit. I wish she was in bed next to me, and I could spread her thighs, lick her juicy cunt and make her come hard, her scream of release echoing in my ears.
But none of this is possible. I have one more year left of my vows in order to reach my goal of saving this monastery from ruin.
Gods, I have never been this tempted.
Never, in four years.
I’ve scented arousal from unmated female pilgrims before, who, after they’ve gotten over their initial fear of me, dart heated glances my way. But I easily ignore these pheromones and continue with my role as their priest and lead them in prayer. I help beings learn the history of their religion, grow in their personal spiritual journey and in their connection with the multigods. And then I politely send my visitors on their way to continue on with their once-in-a-lifetime trip through the ancient altars of Salo.
My reaction to this human is entirely different. I’m in trouble. I’ve never felt such an instant bond. Not for any of the Hyrrokin I pleasure mated back on Tarvos, not for any female, of any species, ever.
Lorelei is a virgin who wants a mate. She was banished for seeking self-stimulation, which is ridiculous. I understand those same needs and desperately wish I could stroke myself to completion on a daily basis, but I must deny myself due to my vows. The fact that she is a female with strong sexual desires that she needs relieved makes me want her more. I want to be the male to tend to her needs on a daily basis.
I prayed for fortitude during midday absolution, then I prayed again for the same thing last night. This morning I’ll have to pray harder.
I’ve heard that Hyrrokin males find human females irresistible, but I’d never met one in real life. And now I see why these rumors exist. Lorelei Hastings is thick in all the right places and her curves are dangerous. I catch glimpses of the outline of her breasts and generous ass as her robe brushes up against her legs and waist, which is highly tantalizing. Her strange human hair is colorless, but it glows with the same intensity as the flames of the altar candles. I find myself wanting to grab her hair in my claw as I take her from behind. Her eyes are the color of the clear blue sky and her skin looks silken to the touch. Her blunt teeth, flat features and her sad inability to flash flame are troubling, but I am learning to look past these faults. I watch her as she walks, amazed at her ability to retain her balance despite her lack of a barbed tail.
And to top it off, this female is smart and kind. Any male would be lucky to have her as a “mate.” We spent barely one diurnal together, and I know her stellar qualities as a life partner. And most importantly, she will make an excellent nun. Instead of toiling in an austere nunnery as punishment for her supposed “crime,” she could stay with me. I would gladly train her to join my order. Her hymnals are delightful and the bow of her head during prayer is a study in humble sincerity. Having her by my side as we both meditate and commune with the gods would fill my heart with joy.
I want her to stay, permanently. I want her training by my side during absolutions. During breakfast, lunch and dinner. During chores. While I bless pilgrims. And most importantly, while I work in the library. She is already enchanted with this monastery and does not mind the lack of civilized conveniences. She could become a nun and we could co-manage this monastery together.
Lorelei Firestone, the Nun of Westmore.I smile. Is this something she would want?
I roll onto my side and try to chase these dangerous thoughts away. The order will realize their error and move to place her in the correct nunnery to serve out her penance.
I want to block this transfer.
But I’d be breaking my vows.
I could easily speak in her defense and have her penance removed and her placement changed. But that would require breaking my vow of silence. I can’t do this. Maybe a year from now, when I complete my vows, I can travel to the nunnery and bend on a knee as humans prefer and propose?
A heavy sigh escapes my lips. I roll back and place a claw on my chest. I now truly understand the enormity of this situation. She’s not simply a female I want to pleasure mate—she’s my future Bound. The mother of future Firestones. This is why I’m tempted like never before.
But that doesn’t mean this human feels the same about me. She is aroused, but does she want a Hyrrokin as a life partner? And why would she wait a year for me at the nunnery? Nuns are highly sought-after as life mates. And a human nun? I would have to beat the other proposals off with my staff. Some other male will identify her perfection and before I can return, swoop down to place his claim on what is mine. I could arrive only to find Lorelei having given up on me and mated to someone else. Someone who was able to speak in her defense, having helped her to start over elsewhere—and already swollen with that male’s offspring.
A growl rumbles in my chest.
I rise out of bed, discontent roiling in my heart and mind. Normally my vows of silence and celibacy offer lightness in my soul and bring me closer in my relationship to the gods. A path I travel that gives me pride and purpose. Today, they feel like an unbearable burden. How am I going to refrain from touching or speaking to Lorelei for a whole year? All I’ve allowed myself is the joy of holding her tiny hand, but I want to fill her with my seed and see her swollen with my offspring.
How am I going to save this monastery, fulfill my commitment to the gods and have my Bound at the same time?
It seems impossible.
I pause in front of her door, place a claw against the wood and listen to her even breaths through the portal. She is safe and secure.
I stride down the hall, wearing only my loincloth and carrying my robe over my arm. I reach the outdoor shower powered by the aqueduct and strip naked. Every morning, rain or shine, summer or winter, I arrive here and cleanse. The shock of ice-cold water diverted from the mountain slopes does wonders to lessen my constant need to self-stimulate.
Lorelei was banished for touching herself. Ridiculous. I masturbated so many times in my youth and while in the military it was comical. My cock was raw from all the self-stimulation. But this is also one of the rules of my four-year vow—celibacy also applies to masturbating. For the last four years I haven’t pleasure mated, nor have I stroked myself to completion. All the times I’ve woken to morning wood I’ve had to ignore it and pray harder. Hence all my cold showers. It helps greatly.
I finish my refreshing shower, pull on a fresh loincloth and robe and then walk back inside. Lorelei is in the kitchen quietly drinking a cup of herbal Traq.
“Good morning,” she greets with that delicate voice.
I grab her hand and pull her with me outside and point at the shower, which is still wet, and at the scented soap I made myself. She can use this as often as she likes. The wash basin in her cell is good in a pinch, but I suspect due to her human “hair” she might enjoy more full-body washes.
She stares up at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks “There is no way I’m showering out here,” she exclaims. “Anyone can see me naked.”
I grin and glance over at her window. She watched me wash?
She whimpers and the flush on her face deepens. She knows I know she saw me naked. But she doesn’t know I’m happy at the thought of her watching the male who is going to claim her virginity.
I shake my head and point at the wall that blocks the outdoor shower from the rest of the monastery. Only our two rooms provide a view down into the outdoor shower. Her room usually remains empty no matter how many visitors I might get. I’d have pilgrims sleep on the floor in the sanctuary before I placed them next door to me, giving them access to my private showers. But Lorelei can watch me as often as she likes.
If she wants to join me, that would be even better.
I demonstrate how to turn on the water from the aqueduct and then I walk away in the opposite direction, hoping she will understand this means I will give her privacy. I suspect that humans are more careful about exposing their nakedness than Hyrrokin. And now that I know she likes viewing my naked body I will give this to her every morning.
Lorelei has receivedimproper instruction in the ways of our religion.
I learn this as I give her original source materials to read. She loves to talk with me during our meals about the history of the multigod religion, about the history of this monastery and the true word of the gods as documented in the ancient text. Only males are taught how to interpret the word of the gods in her commune on New Earth? This is not how our religion works. There should be no barrier between any being and their relationship with the multigods. We are all equals in the eyes of the gods and our species and gender aren’t barriers to our participation in leadership in the order. A famous Green-horn Nun founded this monastery. I can’t prove it, but I know it’s true. I admire her teachings greatly.
My human shows interest in my quill and ink, so give her a quill too, and I spend time instructing her how to write in the ancient language of the gods. She is so easy to teach. I pull in a small desk for her, and we work together. I have to copy and bind the ancient books onto new parchment, before the originals disintegrate. None of the materials here are to be touched by technology, only the old ways are allowed to save what was created a thousand years ago.
She continues to ask me myriads of questions, which I can’t answer. I’d think she was trying to trick me into breaking my vow, but I genuinely think she forgets I cannot respond. She apologies often. Mainly, I just love the sound of her voice.
And then she finally grows tired of the copying and settles in her chair before the fire and picks up her book to continue reading. “I love this universal translator they implanted in my brain,” she tells me. “Now I can read anything, no matter the language.”
I’m happy she was given a universal translator too because it makes her training so much easier. And when more pilgrims arrive, she’ll be able to greet them in their own languages. Our visitors are going to be surprised at being greeted by my charming, talkative human instead of a silent, brooding Hyrrokin. I suspect I’ll need to ready myself for the arrival of more than the usual number of visitors. It’s amazing how fast word spreads on the pilgrimage route. I’m certain my peers already know an unmated female trainee has been placed with me and they’re all wondering how I’m dealing with it.
How am I dealing with it? I glance over at her lovely, exotic features lit by the glow of the fireplace. I’d say—not well. I continue to imagine being the male who gives this female her first kiss, her first orgasm, her first offspring.
The temptation to break my vows is growing exponentially.
She puts her book down and starts telling me stories of her childhood. I put down my quill and listen, not disturbed in the least at being interrupted. Her stories are always interesting.
“…you know, it wasn’t really a bad place to grow up,” she sums up. “Everyone else in our community is perfectly happy and content. I was the one with a problem. It was best that I left. I needed to leave because it wasn’t the right fit for me.”
This human and I have much in common. I left my own home world because it wasn’t a good fit anymore. My father, the ex-President of Tarvos, now sits in prison for his crimes. I learned that my own father was a traitor, giving government secrets to our enemies in exchange for currency. I’m spending the rest of my life trying to make up for the failure of our family name. After I sufficiently recovered from my injuries, I left Tarvos to train as a priest.
“I like it here,” she tells me, “I see why you enjoy living here,” and then returns to reading her book.
I continue to stare at her.
Lorelei Hastings doesn’t mind the isolation. She loves ancient texts and gardening. The rustic nature of this monastery doesn’t bother her. She welcomes the lack of technology. She isn’t plotting how to escape and return to civilization.
She is delightful.
After dinnerand our evening absolution, I sit in my favorite chair in front of the fireplace in the library and groan as I prop up my prosthetic leg on a pillow. The damn muscles are tightening again. They don’t do this every night, some nights it’s fine and other nights worse than others. Tonight, I lean forward to grab the heating pan, to fill it with hot rocks from the fire. The deep ache in my thigh is bothering me.
“Oh no, you look like you’re in pain,” a kind voice says.
I look up to see Lorelei sitting beside me. “What’s wrong?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I can’t help but ask questions. I know you can’t answer. Let me see…”
And then she bends down on her knees in front of me.
I suck in a rough breath. My cock is straining again for release in the confines of my loincloth. Her placement aligns her face with my crotch. My cock and I are at odds. It wants this female. But I continue to deny it.
She reaches out to my leg, her hands hovering over the spot I had been rubbing, “Can I touch you?” she requests.
I give a jerky nod. My claws tighten on the arms of the chair because I stare at her lips, wanting them wrapped around my shaft.
Why couldn’t this female have arrived a year from now?
Who am I kidding? I can’t let them take her away to the nunnery. I’m too weak. I’ve spent another diurnal with her and at this point, I suspect I’d follow her to the ends of the universe to reclaim her and keep her at my side. No one will understand—she’s not a female I simply want to pleasure mate, she’s my Bound. In fact, I’d like to see them try to take her away. I suspect I’d fly into a berserker rage. I have to redouble my efforts to find a solution. Would she be willing to live with me for a year in silent abstinence not knowing my intentions or the outcome? Will she wait for me? Lorelei wants me to succeed in my vows. I want that too. But I also want her.
She pushes aside my robe, exposing my entire leg. She points at my ankle, where the serial number is tattooed into my skin. “Oh my gods, you have a prosthetic?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. There is so much about me that she doesn’t know. I wish I could tell her everything.
She pauses and thinks about the implications. “You were a soldier, weren’t you?” Her tiny hands remain on my skin. “Hmm. My grandfather lost an arm when he fought alongside the Xylan military to expel the Hurlians from New Earth. All he had at first was a metal arm. But then, because he’s a veteran, he was upgraded to an organic prosthetic. He said all veterans in the four sectors, no matter the species, are given free organic prosthetics? My grandmother was always helping him with the lingering aches and pains. He was certainly happy to have the simulation instead of the clunky metal arm, but it was a lot for him to get used to at first. Supposedly the aches get better with time as the nerve endings regrow, but maybe not?”
I purse my lips. She’s right, the leg is doing better than it used to. I can work or run like normal. The aches have lessened but still cause trouble when I’ve been sitting for too long, or at the end of a long day.
“I wish I knew how long you’ve had this…”
I lift my hand and hold up five fingers.
Her eyes widen. “Five? You’ve had this prosthetic for five years?”
I rub my hand against my thigh. I have not completely broken my vows with this communicative gesture, but it’s certainly a slippery slope. I wish I could tell her how I left Tarvos after my father was thrown in prison. How I had served in the Hyrrokin military during my father’s Presidency, but I drove a vehicle over a roadside bomb during my last tour. The bomb exploded and tore off my right leg. I spent a lot of time in physical therapy. After father’s sentencing, I decided this was a perfect time to leave and start over elsewhere. I’d always secretly dreamed of becoming a priest and living on the planet that was the birthplace of the multigod religion. Now was the time.
She places her hands on my leg, feeling along the definition of my muscles. “This makes me think you’ve been living here at least four years then. Maybe you came here after you were discharged from the military? Although this still doesn’t explain the vows of silence and um, celibacy. Or how long you’ve held these vows and how long they will continue.”
And then she’s leaning in, using all her strength to massage my thigh. I throw my head back and moan. She spends so much time there. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air and it drives me crazy.
“You know what would be perfect?” she says. “If we were both on your bed. It would be easier for me to do this deep massage.”
I sit upright, thrown out of my reverie. I cannot have this female in my bed. Therein lies madness. I toss my robe back over my leg.
She rears back. “What’s wrong?” Then she looks at my face. “Oh, okay. Maybe some other time? Or never? You’re right. Sorry.”
I cannot stop the continued growth of my throbbing cock. It aches for her touch.
She gasps at the outline of my hard shaft tenting my robe. She can clearly see how much I want her on my lap. I cup her jaw because I cannot refrain from touching her. But this time I lean forward, ready to press my lips against hers and shove my forked tongue in her mouth, but she turns her face, protecting me from myself. My lips land against her cheek.
“No,” she whispers, pressing her hand against my chest, pushing me away. She stands up. “No, I will not defile the High Priest of Westmore. I will not.” And she steps away and leaves the room.
Smoke wafts from my nostrils. I stare into the flickering fireplace, trying to let go of my raging lust, lost in thought…
What if I want to be defiled?
