Mending Touch - Draft

The first lesson taught to Cazali was “Never enter a fight you aren’t sure to win.” In retrospect, it should have been clear the trainer was only exaggerating. But then Cazali had never been a good listener. Her arrows whizzed between the trees, each finding its mark with a dull thwip. The quiver was quickly nearing empty, and she didn’t trust herself to win a fight in close quarters. There was only one solution.

“Retreat!” Keeping her bow ahead to ward off any that would follow her, Cazali sounded the call to pull back. “Retreat, back to the walls!” Around her, skirmishers slid back into the undergrowth and warriors turned and fled. It may have been a tactical retreat, but to her it looked little better than a rout. Further ahead, the enemy advanced a ways closer. If she didn’t make it back to the walls, they would overtake her. “Last time I join with the vanguard!” she muttered.

Salvation came in a volley of arrows. The archers stationed outside and on the city walls picked off advancing soldiers with each strike, and the advance quickly became a retreat of its own. “Another loss,” she said back, passing under the portcullis, “we can’t afford many- aaagh!” A searing pain lanced through her, spreading out from a red gash in her side. Shit, when did she get shot? Another jolt of pain coursed up her leg, and the causeway spun in her vision. This was going to hurt.
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For a while, Cazali dwelt without substance. The spinning had not abated, dulled rather to a rhythmic throbbing. Her dark fugue was broken at last by the din of clattering metal, and the throbbing was lifted from her mind. She jolted up, and found herself wrapped in blankets. The morning light cast a pallid glare on the stone walls of her room, and she had to turn her eyes away.

There, picking up an assortment of instruments, knelt a young woman in ceremonial robes. She stood to carry them off, and nearly jumped at the sight of Cazali. “Ah! Ah, good, you’re finally awake.” Setting her tools down, the woman made her way to the bed. Cazali tossed off the covers, sweltering. As she had expected, she was unclothed. “Where am I? What’s happened?” The woman offered a reassuring smile, fixing her bed. “You’re in Oaxa Temple. You are safe here. You were delivered here after your injuries.”

Cazali’s hand went to her side, and brushed over a scar that ran to her stomach. Had it healed already? “How long was I asleep?” The woman looked over Cazali, snapping to her attention at the question. “Oh! Two days, almost.” Cazali laid back with a groan. “Two days?” “Oh yes, but you’re quite well now. Don’t worry, we have seen to your injuries. My name is Mete, by the way.” Cazali pulled back up the covers. She was no stranger to nudity, few were. But before a priestess, she thought, it would befit her to stay modest. “Oh that’s perfectly alright.” Mete raised a hand to halt her. “Nothing I haven’t seen of you yet. It was a long healing process, but the gods have provided.”

“There is more to it, though.” Mete placed a hand on her shoulder. “You have been healed in body, but your spirit is ill at ease. The body and the soul must be as one, intertwined. But your soul is separate, wedged away by a wall of stress. Unless they are rejoined, you will continue to suffer in your duties.” Cazali watched the priestess circle her with a concerned look. “How can you fix that?” Finishing her cursory inspection, Mete traced a line down Cazali’s abdomen with her finger, stopping just at her waist. “I can help you break down that wall.”

Shifting on the bed, Cazali lay her arms beside her. “How do you mean?” The priestess hushed her with a finger, a warm glint in her eye. Her hand ran circles across Cazali’s abs, the other kneading her shoulder. “Shhh, you’ll know. Don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for…” Mete lowered her hand, grazing over her inner thigh. “to relieve your worries.” Despite herself, Cazali let out a sigh. She doubted this was really part of the ritual, but gods if this priestess didn’t know what she was doing!

Mete smiled and planted a short kiss on Cazali’s cheek, a reward for her relaxation. Leaving Cazali’s shoulder, her hand made its way over her chest, circling her breast and giving a few squeezes of the soft flesh. The other brushed against her cleft, slowly at first, both tentative and teasing. Mete worked faster, slipping between her lips and dragging her thumb over her clit. Her hips shook, the sensation forcing short moans from her lips.

“Good, that’s good. You’ll be back to rights in no time.” Mete’s tone was laden with undisguised lust. Cazali felt her hungry gaze taking her pleasure in, each pump of her fingers making her body quiver. She tilted her head and bit her lip, glad to give the priestess a show. In return Mete slid another finger inside her, bent in to stroke her walls as she delved ever deeper. Like a vessel being filled to the brim, Cazali’s climax rose up within her. Arching her back, she moaned long and heady as her orgasm robbed her of restraint.

Withdrawing her hand, Mete gave the flushed woman a pat on the shoulder. At some point her right hand must have left Cazali’s chest, because she had already begun pulling down the thick skirt hugging her hips. “Gods you’re good- ah, there is still more healing to be done! We need to, uh, align your spiritual self with your physical self now that it is free to merge.” She slung a leg over Cazali’s chest, her thighs already slick with the signs of her real intent. “Just, ah, do as your spirit tells you to do.”

Right now, her spirit was telling her to repay the favor. Placing both hands on Mete’s hips, she brought the priestess down until her rear was cushioned above Cazali’s face. Her mouth parted, head nestled in the warmth of Mete’s thighs against her. Wasting no time, she gave an exploratory kiss to the woman’s flower, the soft skin tingling against her lips. Her fingers gripped Mete’s tender rear to steady her and she dived in, lapping at her already sodden labia. Mete squealed above her, breasts shaking against her torso as she was pressed against Cazali. “Oh souls, yes, just like that!”

Glad to oblige, Cazali ran her tongue over Mete’s quim, tasting her arousal. The healer gripped her legs, a chorus of moans and stuttered “G-gods, yes!” sounding her pleasure. The warrior redoubled her efforts, flicking her tongue within the woman and bobbing lower every so often to kiss at her nub. Mete’s legs pressed tighter against her head, locking her in their grip as she drove the priestess closer to climax.

“Hahn, it’s coming!” Mete cried out, practically thrusting her hips against Cazali. She dove her head between Cazali’s thighs, muffling the throes of her climax against the latter’s groin. Her cunt showered Cazali’s mouth and chin in its orgasm, and he warrior savored all that she could catch. Mete released her hold on Cazali, turning above her with what energy remained. Not enough, at least, to keep her above.
The priestess collapsed next to Cazali on the bed, still panting hard. Bereft of energy, she rolled over and draped an arm across her chest. Cazali brushed away the remains of Mete’s climax from her face, cradling the priestess’s head against her shoulder. “There you have it.” Mete panted. “All healed.” Cazali laughed a little, patting her head. She would have to visit the temple more often.