Read Online Yearn by Tobsha Learner - Free Book Online Page B

other three. The four of them knelt, one on each corner of the ground cloth, their foreheads daubed with pig’s blood. The unfortunate animal lay over the symbol D’Arcy had calculated to represent the dawn goddess. It hadn’t been easy killing it—in the end Harry had to slit its throat—but it had died swiftly enough with one last lingering glance of reproach at D’Arcy. The yam, also a food sacrifice to the dawn goddess, lay next to the slaughtered pig, and the traveling clock (brought solely for D’Arcy to time the event exactly) was well within sight—a strangely contemporary artifact in a tableau that had already started to draw all of them into a more immemorial ambience.
    It was undeniable; D’Arcy felt the mysticism of the ritual rush through his blood like an opiate. An air of eerie reverence had fallen over the others; even Prudence, the most earthy and cynical of creatures, now dressed in the thin white silk robe he had given each of them to wear, seemed spellbound, almost hypnotized as D’Arcy lifted his hands to the sky, one hand clad in Tuttle’s white glove. “Oh Atanua, great goddess of dawn and of all things fertile, we have given the spirit of this animal to you and we will give more—our very life-spirit in union. I seek the body-sight of my enemy—in your name, great Atanua, I seek to see through the windows of his soul. I beg, Atanua, in the name of all the valleys, rivers, and oceans you have given birth to, grant me this wish. . . .”
    Nearby, in a small grove of trees, D’Arcy could hear the coachman give a polite cough followed by the sound of his footsteps as he walked farther away. Relieved, D’Arcy dropped his hands. To his surprise there was no embarrassment, no shame to his actions. It was as if now, here, psychologically prepared and dressed in the robe, he was the priest, the Tupia, described in Banks’s journal; it was as if he had undergone this very ritual before, so powerful was its influence on him.
    D’Arcy pulled off the white glove and placed it ceremoniously in the center of the ground cloth, then looked across at Harry, the young sweep—his erection evident under his thin robe.
    D’Arcy nodded. “And now we will begin.” He moved over to Prudence and lifted her robe. The thick curls of her pubic hair sat neatly between her thighs; the small pert breasts with the large nipples stood high on her chest. Roughly he thrust his hand between her legs. To his surprise she was already damp, her labia sticky against his wrist. Her long blond hair, now loose, hung down to her waist, and cascaded down to the ground as he lowered her onto her back. She gazed up at him with a look that was half submission, half wonder, and he could tell that the ritualized atmosphere of the orgy had transported even Prudence, a practiced professional.
    Cupping her two small breasts in his large hands, he sucked each of her nipples in turn, nipping them gently between his teeth, then ran his tongue down the center of her small body to the apex of her sex, pert and ready for him. As if on cue Amelia slid behind Prudence and, lifting Prudence’s knees, parted the older woman’s legs as if offering her to D’Arcy. Prudence groaned in excitement. D’Arcy parted her with his fingers and began to suck and lick the small hard bud of her sex, his fingers slipping into both entrances. It was as if Prudence’s spread-eagled figure was the center of the formation, the beginning of the dance they had to perform, the first position of a movement that had to culminate in a certain configuration, one that had been sketched in Banks’s secret journal. It was an image that D’Arcy felt, hung suspended over his burning lips, his pulsating member, the roar of sheer pleasure pounding through him.
    Looking up he saw that Amelia had moved her hands and mouth to Prudence’s breasts and that Harry had pulled