Chapter Text
Gendra pulled a thin, gauzy kimono up over her shoulders. The delicate white fabric cascaded down her full breasts and thick, pointed nipples, grazing her heavily swollen abdomen and draping nearly to the floor. She wore nothing else - why bother? The purpose of the ceremony was to celebrate the pregnant form and to welcome the new life that it promised. Some women opted to wear something a bit more elaborate - a one piece bodysuit made of the finest lace or a breast covering and underthings woven from spun gold thread. One mother had even worn a garment made only from leather strips which cross-crossed her body. That had certainly been popular, or at least titillating, to the gathered viewers. But Gendra didn’t see the point. The kimono was enough to give her a kind of goddess-like air, contrasting against her bronzed and glowing skin and offsetting the rich curves of her expectant body, which only made her feel more powerful. She had waited long enough for this day, she didn’t want to cover herself with anything.
It was nearly time. She brushed out her dark brown curls again, letting the thick hair fall down over one breast, and applied just a little more oil, heavy with a musky scent, to her taut belly, rubbing it in until her sun-kissed skin shone. There, she thought. That would do. She wanted to project strength and self-possession, even if a tiny shiver raced through her heart from time to time. She certainly didn’t want that to show. Being a Mother was about strength. It had been a long road to being chosen, and this was a critical moment to prove that she had always been the right choice.
The ritual of motherhood had existed in Almont as long as anyone could remember. It was embedded in their sacred religious texts going back centuries. The ancient and mysterious power of bring forth new life was the central thread of Almont society, around which all of life was organized. It informed the power structures - the most prolific, strong, and alluring Mothers became the high priestesses, and every ten or so years, one was chosen to serve as Queen. When a Queen no longer had the power of fertility, she retired to a life of honored luxury, and another Mother was selected to take her place. It wouldn’t be long until the current Queen would retired. She was in her early forties, silvering at the temples and at the cunt, but she still produced a few months ago. Time would tell if that would be her last, but most suspected it would.
So there was much at stake today. The correct performance would place her in the ranks of power - the wrong would remove her from public life. She had seen that happen just a few weeks ago when a small thing named Clea had taken part in her first ceremony. The poor woman hadn’t been a good choice to be a mother in the first place - Gendra knew it and so did most others in the temple. She suspected that her father and brothers, eager to have their family name rise in prestige, had pulled strings until she was accepted at the Mothers’ Temple. The first part of the ritual had worked well enough, and the petite woman had taken - only a singleton - but Clea’s ceremony performance hadn’t been inspiring. She had always been timid and shy, not adventurous or accepting during her training, instead trembling or shying away from the more advanced courses. Unsurprisingly, when her surges started she panicked, refusing the traditions. The experienced and talented attendants, ready to perform based on their own rigorous training, stood by disappointed and flaccid as she whimpered. In the end, when the child’s head bulged her tiny cunt beautifully and those in attendance had finally sighed with excitement, she fought against the surges and would not relax, which only trapped the new life. In the end, she had had to use the silver bracelets, which most mothers wore only as a reminder of the alternative to following their training and bringing forth the new life with confidence and sensuality. The glittering bangles had been fasted securely to the waiting saltire cross - which some mothers utilized in a sign of submission to the powerful process and the application of pleasure, but not Clea, who had to be restrained in a show of abdication. She cried and resisted while the midwives (usually there only as a contingency) had to enter the sacred birthing space to practically pull the child from her. She hadn’t even accepted one penetration during the process. She had simply been too small - or perhaps too weak. Either way, it wasn’t a performance that merited more production, and Clea had left the Temple not long after, probably with much relief. She would be far better suited for a different life - the infant house, perhaps, or the scribe guild.
Gendra’s hands rested on her swollen belly, pushing back against a hard shove from a bony elbow. The door behind her opened, and her maid entered. “The priestesses are here, miss. Are you ready?”
“I am,” Gendra said, her voice firm. Another zing went through her heart, but this one felt a bit more like excitement. She followed the maid through the stone walled halls, the white kimono gently drifting behind her. It was a short walk to the sacred birthing altar. She felt the start of a slickness between her thighs.
For as long as she could remember, she had wanted to be a Mother. She had read all the sacred texts, studying the histories of legendary Mothers from generations past. Her favorite, Alendra, who had lived some five hundred years ago, had produced dozens of children with grace and raw power well into her forties. At her first ceremony, she had brought forth four at once in a ceremony in which many chroniclers claim she channeled the goddess Herself . An engraving - not contemporary, but still - depicted a heavily gravid Alendra standing, her gaze intent and probing, while an attendant suckled at her breast and held a gentle hand to her swelling cunt as a child came forth through his splayed fingers. In Alendra’s one arm was an infant, already nursing at her swollen breast, while her other hand was gripped on the swollen and dripping member of another assistant in a display of power so immense it was often reproduced and displayed in temples and, it was said, inside the palace.
Gendra had studied such stories intently from girlhood, determined to give such a performance herself. She had always felt the thrill deep in her body when she looked at that image, feeling herself grow hot and wet with readiness to take on that sacred role herself. She was chosen to enter the Mothers’ Temple at sixteen, and had spent the next few years in the required studies - reading the medical treatises, the huge books of law and governance, and the records of the priestesses and queens from years past. At nineteen, she was accepted into Motherhood training after the required tests and inspections. She was from productive lineage - the Mother that had brought her forth had delivered with speed and calm, and served in the hall of justice. A grandmother had a reputation for conceiving multiples, a skill that was highly praised indeed. Gendra had also discovered, recorded in sacred scrolls in the archives, another Mother in her line had the power to produce until her fifties, a rare and deeply honored power. Such genealogy wasn’t destiny of course, but when the priestesses found that Gendra was well-made, strong, and fertile, she was readily accepted to begin training.
It was all ritualized. The first introduction was intended to be gentle - an introduction to pleasure rather than the procreative act. The purpose was to train the future Mother to wield the sexual power required of the role. Mothers had to understand their bodies and learn to control their pleasure responses in a way that made them productive and ever in control. And in the beginning, they had to learn the most basic realities: how the cunt felt and responded, what a climax felt like, what the male anatomy did. This was the only sexual education allowed in Almont - reserved only for potential Mothers and those who attended them. The acts were too powerful to be practiced by common folk. And thus even self-exploration was tightly controlled. A new recruit in the Mothers’ Temple must never have been touched intimately, even by their own hands. In the first part of the ritual, the young mother was bathed and oiled and shaved by maids, then led to an altar, where they were attended by the oldest and most experienced of the male attendants. Gendra remembered being led, naked, to a green velvet chaise on the altar by a maid while the priestesses looked on, clad in their signature white vestments. The piece of furniture had a sloping back and was split in the center into two leg supports, allowing the trainee to sit, leaning back, with their legs gently separated. An older attendant with kind eyes and silvering hair approached, then moved her into place, his strong hands caressing her smooth legs then placing each ankle up on the the separated legs of the long chair so that her cunt was splayed. His warm hands gently stroked up her legs, making his way up her body until his face reached herself and kissed her mouth, gently but insistently. It was the first time she had been touched by a male in her entire life. When her breath became heavier, he had slowly moved his hand to hold her wet cunt. His slowly fingers had slid through her slick folds as if greasing her, then after several agonizing moments, he put his head to her shaven cunt and had feasted, sucking and licking until she moaned. A priestess, circling behind the attendant to watch him devour her, noded and made a note in her record book. “Good,” she said, her tone even, “you may proceed.”
At that command, the attendant pushed his thick, blunt fingers (first one, then two, then three) into her cunt. After that first bite of discomfort, Gendra had just started to feel the urge to make noise when a priestess spoke: “Good, Gendra. That’s right. Vocalizations are important, but a Mother controls her voice and uses it to her own ends. Look at me.” While the attendant crooked his fingers, stroking some tender place inside her and sucked on her sensitive nub, she looked into the dark eyes of the priestess and followed her instructions: breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth, mimicking her long, low hum. The sound reverberated through her chest.
“What do you feel now?” Another priestess asked, learning closer to her spread as if to inspect her wet cunt.
Gendra took another deep breath and responded, “A building - a deepening. I need more.” The priestess seemed satisfied and stepped back. The attendant’s mouth was relentless - she thought of the years of training and service he must have had to be trusted with the newest Mothers in training. Soon, she felt that long, slow pull inside herself, followed by the crushing sensation of pulsing and pulling and squeezing. She desperately wanted to shout, but remembered the words of the priestess and instead uttered nothing more than an even hum. The priestesses nodded in approval, made their notes, and dismissed the attendant from the room to discuss the exercise with Gendra. It was a successful introduction, they said, but she needed to improve her command. The next time, Gendra knew to take control, grasping the attendant by the hair and taking - rather than receiving - her pleasure, riding his supplicant’s face and making the low sounds until she nearly doubled over at the power of the climax. That seemed to meet with the priestesses’ approval, and she began to move up the hierarchy as one of the best students.
From there, it had been more intensive training, sometimes two and three times a day, to prepare. They would often start with an attendant worshipping at the cunt in the morning until the emerged, face dripping, after the Mother-to-be had taken her pleasure. Then at midday, sufficiently warmed up, they moved to the penetrative exercises, starting with the smaller attendants and working their way up over the course of months to the biggest - though always carefully withdrawing the red and swollen member in time to spend. This was less a method for prevention as it was tradition - attendants used in training had been sterilized. While they were trained for sexual prowess, they either had aged out of breeding or had failed their entrance exams - perhaps they were too meek, lacked vigor, or simply had a trait the priestesses chose not to pass down. Any way, most priestesses agreed based on the ancient texts that Mothers in training shouldn’t receive any male seed other than during their breeding, though if cajoled they might allow a trainee to swallow it or take it anally. Gendra specialized in accepting it by mouth, pulling it from a straining attendant with intent sucks purely because it made her insides twist with pleasure, but also received it on her breasts and ass, much to the approval of the watching priestesses. It should initiative. By the time training Mothers were ready to graduate, these sessions were conducted by a group of attendants separated out for their impressive length or girth, testing the limits of the Mothers-to-be. The goal was to learn to breathe, stretch, and relax to allow the thick and heavy cocks - first with careful, shallow motions but culminating in strong thrusts.
They also had the evening session, which was usually the most heavily attended by worshippers - sometimes just priestesses, but other times by dignitaries and prestigious citizens. They were pleasant worship services, and as the more advanced sessions, they often served as an opportunity to spot Mothers-to-be that held particular promise, It was also necessary for a successful Mother to be able to perform in front of an audience - there was no place for stage fright in the Mothers’ Temple - so congregations were yet another training tool. Further, they were teaching sessions. A few times each month, younger and less experienced Mothers were required to attend an evening session to study. During these sessions came the more advanced trainings - the restraint exercises, where the priestesses would buckle the Mother-to-be into a variety of devices or trussed them up in ropes before instructing attendants to act upon them, or where attendants were instructed to flog or gentle spank. As younger trainee, Gendra had once seen an advanced student bound in shibari ropes and suspended, while an attendant swung her, over and over, onto his huge cock, until he had to pull from her abruptly and spin her around to release his seed by fucking her waiting mouth - he’d even let out a rare grunt. An inspiring performance, indeed - it was hard to break an experienced attendant’s concentration like that. (She had heard that that woman was now a successful Mother, showing great promise.) The penetration at evening sessions was also intensified - with two attendants entering the cunt at once and - if deemed successful - progressing to double penetration. Gendra had reveled in that training, nearly giggling when the priestesses tested her by providing particularly huge attendannts. She’d taken them with joyousness, delivering a laughing orgasm that earned her praise from a supervising priestess. An especially talented Mother in training would, ideally, be able to take two thrusting cocks while also pulling another attendant’s seed from him with her mouth, all before delivering a powerful and pulsating climax. Trainees were also introduced to various tools - large false cocks, expanding balls, pulsating fucking machines, hooks that tugged them open, bulbous plugs of various sizes, and intense vibrating devices.
This last stretch of training - with its devices and ropes and extreme filling - was when many Mothers-to-be were winnowed from the training. Some, misunderstanding the goal of the training, forced themselves to get past it. Tiny Clea had grimly suffered through, knowing well enough not to cry out when a particularly well-endowed attendant speared her tiny, puckered ass on his long cock at the direction of the supervising priestess - but the religious woman didn’t miss her grimaces or her disappointing failure to deliver the expected climax. Not Gendra. Having studied intently for decades and praying regularly o the Goddess for guidance, Gendra understood that the purpose wasn’t enduring the exercises but controlling the exercises. Sure, in the beginning it meant to learn to be the one extracting pleasure, but as one advanced it meant learning to relax and accept the intensity of the stretch, to adapt to the rare art of willing pain into pleasure using breath, vocalization, and force of will. If a Mother would deliver an inspiring performance, she needed to control her own body and not prioritize the bodies of others. She needed to learn to focus and use Goddess power to meet her own ends. Through the years of her training, each time Gendra learned a new skill, she seemed to find the way to own that skill to her own purposes.
Gendra had developed a reputation for being especially willing, eager to try anything, even when it was considered especially advanced. Indeed, she was one of only few that achieved fist training - considered a skill reserved for Mothers who had already achieved their first Ceremony - when she successfully (and on numerous occasions) accepted an attendant’s hand inside her dripping cunt. She adored the feeling of her hot walls pushed and stretched while the attendant held a large vibrator to her swollen clit, forcing her to climax. (Attendants weren’t allowed to act on their own, but if a priestess wanted to increase the stakes of a test, it was common that they instruct the attendant to up the ante.) Once, she had escalated the already unusual act without waiting for the priestess’s instruction, and requested a priestess for permission to have second attendant fuck her ass with a thick glass cock while she took the slick fist. The priestess had nodded, impressed, and called forth an attendant with the lubricated tool. She had swallowed her grunts and expertly moaned as she was filled. The attendant held his arm still, and she fucked the slick hand under her own power until her climax came, squeezing her so hard she could feel it twist in her middle. She hadn’t shared with the priestess who debriefed the session later that while she’d opened herself for those slick fingers and rigid tool she was dreaming of her future as a Mother, stretching to bring forth. As a less common training, it had attracted a large audience around the altar, and the intensity of her performance had led the priestesses to the decision to allow for communion. It was a rare training that inspired dignitaries to seek communion - the act of sharing in the sexual power in the communal space, usually reserved only for Ceremonies - but this time priestesses and attendants had felt the spirit moving and dispersed through the crowd with false cocks, lubricants, and eager mouths to aid the dignitaries in joining in. Gendra knew that this happened only rarely at especially successful trainings, and that the students that inspired it often went on to big things. She’d been too blissed out to watch, but knew that their low moans of praise had heightened her crashing pleasure. After all, the greatest spiritual transcendence that could be achieved by a citizen of Almont was in achieving climax at the Ceremony. She knew for a fact - well, she had heard, anyway - that at the queen’s last Ceremony, dignitaries had enjoyed a transcendence - that is, had engaged in the rare and sacred orgy of pleasure as they watched her produce, seeking to seize some of her power for themselves.
If a trainee was deemed proficient after their final year of these intensive trainings, they could graduate to take their real purpose in the first step of the Ceremony - impregnation. To increase the chances of a successful fertilization, their fertility was carefully tracked, and there was generally a week set aside for sacred sessions. The Mother-to-be rested and fasted from regular exercises. A series of chosen bulls, males from especially fertile lines who were raised and trained in the Seminator Temple, were shown to the chapel, where the Mother was laid out, skin anointed with oils, on a white lounge. A priestess opened the ceremony with a prayer to the goddess, then allowed the Mother the freedom to tell her bull how to proceed. No longer trainees, Mothers were now expected to control the sacred pairings. Each time was to be different - standing in one session, then entered from behind in another in the belief it would aid in conception. It was critical that the Mother-to-be was open and pliant - after all, sensuality, ecstasy, and climax were all gifts of the Goddess and vital to Motherhood - so all bulls were trained in the arts of hands and mouth and required to use them before they were allowed mount. When the Mother-to-be felt ready, she instructed the bull to mount and was fucked until the bull spent inside her. Typically, these sacred sessions were sequential, with one bull mating in each session, but on the day of a Mother’s peak fertility, the mating session was orgiastic. This was to increase the likelihood of impregnation, but also was understood as a celebration of the the gifts of the Goddess, and thus often had worshippers and trainees in attendance. Gendra’s had featured six bulls who took turns licking and caressing her sacred folds until she uttered that deep vocalization that indicated her readiness, balancing on the edge of climax. She had gone to her hands and knees, the position depicted in the most ancient of texts, and opened herself for their use. Then the bulls filled her, taking turns working her mouth, cunt and ass in deliberate strokes until they reached their own readiness. With the application of a powerful vibrating tool, they forced her orgasm while they took turns, one after another, pumped into her waiting cunt to deliver their carefully curated seed..
Gendra had conceived immediately. Impregnation was also where some Mothers-to-be left the program. Some simply could not catch - there was no rhyme or reason, but Mothers only had one mating cycle to prove their worth. She had been in the audience once when a particularly talented Mother-to-be had been bred in her final session by seven bulls, moaning out the resonant sounds and climaxing luxuriantly as each bull filled her - a perfect performance - only to fail to catch at all. No one saw her leave the temple, but Gendra had heard the rumor that she had become a scribe, where she used her talents in interpreting the scriptural texts about mating, rather than practicing herself. Tragic. But this would not be Gendra’s fate. Perhaps thanks to her genes or maybe because of the sheer power of her intention, she had conceived easily and well - the inspecting priestesses estimated her gravid, low-hanging belly held at least three children. She’d be disingenuous if she pretended that idea didn’t bring her great pleasure. She had dreamed of nothing else since she was a child, and had spend much of her gestation period fantasizing about the performance she’d give at her Ceremony.
The maid led Gendra through the heavy wooden doors of the most sacred wing of the Temple. The walls were hung with tapestries that celebrated historic Mothers and Queens. Gendra felt her heart beat quicken as she walked by them with their powerful images - a full breast of milk, a heavy belly, an open cunt. Then they entered what Gendra knew was the antechamber to the sacred altar room. The maid closed the door behind them, and a priestess stepped forward to greet her.
“Gendra, mother-to-be,” she said. “Are you ready to begin the Ceremony?”
“I am,” Gendra responded. “I enter willingly - and eagerly.” Technically, they were only required to attest to their willingness, but Gendra had decided to indicate her particular readiness. The priestess quirked an eyebrow and Gendra thought she saw the ghost of a smile.
“Good. Now, I will lead you out to the altar. It has been outfitted for you, and the requested attendants are ready. There are many in attendance to worship. You’ve drawn some attention, Gendra, mother-to-be, with your distinctive training exercises” She held Gendra’s gaze for another moment. “I’d not disappoint them.”
“I won’t.” Gendra met the gaze, refusing to look away. The thrill rose through her again.
“Right. Come, then.” The priestess motioned to another woman religious. “Veda, open the doors.”