Bound by the Orb (Print)

Bound By the Orb (Duet)
Kate Steele
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Steele
Excerpt from Chosen of the Orb

Having ridden the cool morning through, Galatin reined his horse in, glancing at the sky. The sun rose high and hot overhead. Sweat ran down his back, the trickle causing an involuntary shiver. Urging his horse forward, he guided him through a flower-bestrewn meadow.

Galatin smiled with pleasure at the sight of a wide, shallow band of clear water running with joyous abandon over a bed of polished stones. He dismounted, leading his horse forward, allowing him to drink. Divesting the stallion of packs, saddle, and bridle, Galatin gave him a gentle swat, urging him into the meadow where he settled to graze.

Hot and fatigued, ripe with the scent of horse and pungent, overheated male, Galatin stripped and stepped into the cool water. He scooped handfuls of the liquid upward, splashing it over his wide shoulders. The glistening liquid cascaded over his well-toned warrior’s body, caressing muscle, sinew, and taut, tanned skin. It trickled in cool meandering paths over each hard bulge and plane, dripping from his well-formed cock and full, low-hanging balls. Splashing a double handful over his head, he ran damp fingers through the silky strands of his dark, shoulder-length hair, scooping it back from his hawk-like face. Satisfied with his bath, he emerged, took up his rolled blanket, and spread it over the thick grass. He stretched out with a contented sigh to dry and bask in the sun.

Galatin drifted in a half doze as warmth seeped into every pore. The sun was a red haze behind his closed lids. A warm breeze set the tall grass whispering around him. The sound of a splash drew his attention. Instantly alert, he directed his gaze to the stream.

A young woman, nude as himself, emerged from the stream to stroll with unearthly grace in his direction. Her form fluidly morphed from untried virgin in the first budding season of womanhood to voluptuous earth mother, seasoned and sensual, filled with the promise of carnal pleasures.

Galatin knew her; he’d studied legends of the lusty Mother Goddess of Atrios. Of its own volition, his cock rose, thick and full.

Halting before him, she sank gracefully to her knees. She reached out, resting her hand over his heart. Their eyes locked. She held out her other hand to reveal a glistening rock, one that had been taken from the streambed. In a voice that echoed with pure power, she spoke.

“Earth.”

From far below, warmth seeped upward. Galatin found himself cradled as though the earth itself held him. Heat penetrated his being, flooding him with power as fine, electric vibrations ran through his skin.

“Air.”

The wind increased, blowing haphazardly until, gathered and directed, it began to concentrate and swirl around the rock held steadily in the woman’s hand. A tiny funnel formed, the infinite power of wind gathered in that small shape. It twisted and turned as it sculpted the stone, polishing it to a round, gleaming sphere.

“Fire.”

Galatin flinched, fearing flames would burst forth from some unknown source to consume them. The Goddess smiled. “Not that kind of fire, Galatin Dal Wri. Passion. The fire of men.”

Her hand traveled, slowly, sensuously down. She caressed his skin, causing his belly to tighten as her fingers flowed over him. They descended to his cock, wrapping around his solid length. Galatin groaned and fell back, his back bowing as she firmly stroked his eager, vein-wrapped shaft, then took him into the wet, velvet suction of her mouth.

Power rose and spilled over them. It sparked and pulsed, matching Galatin’s racing heartbeat. Rising heat pulled musky-scented sweat from his body. His full, aching balls rose tight, his hips undulating, as she worked him with the skill of a seasoned courtesan. Her tongue laved the silky skin that covered his cock, finding that ultra-sensitive spot on the underside where the plump mushroom-shaped cap met the thick meat of his pulsing shaft. Unbearable pressure built.

The earth rocked and shuddered beneath him. His blood thundered in his veins, deafening in its frantic rush. Mere seconds from orgasm, the Goddess allowed his swelling cock to slip from her mouth as it spewed hot rivulets of thick cream over his straining body.

As Galatin shouted his release, the Goddess bathed the shaped stone in the fresh, fertile seed of his body. Imbued with the power of earth and air, drenched in the passionate fire of man, it began to glow, the energy seeking release from a vessel too small to contain it. Heat radiated from the rock as its energies made a bid for freedom. The shape of the stone wavered, its outer shell softening like candle wax.

Voice ringing with authority, the Goddess called out. “Water.”

Soft rain began to fall. It pattered down, concentrating on the glowing stone. The cool water made its wavering exterior solidify. The warring temperatures of water and stone caused its silvery surface to crack. Mirror-like, it reflected multiple images.

Galatin lay still, welcoming the caress of the rain as it washed away the remnants of his release and cooled the heat that radiated from his skin. With a sigh of contentment, he opened his eyes, sitting up to settle cross-legged on the damp blanket. He met the loving gaze of the Mother Goddess.

“Earth, air, fire, and water, all the elements of power are held in this, my gift to the people of Atrios. This orb contains the living essence of our world, a tiny portion of the heart and spirit of the land and the people who dwell upon her. You, Galatin Dal Wri, I appoint to be the first Guardian of the Orb of Atrios. I give the Orb into your keeping. Await my instruction.”

Her form grew nebulous until she slowly disappeared.

* * *

Galatin awoke with a start, his gaze taking in his surroundings. They were unchanged since he’d lain down upon his blanket.

“A dream,” he muttered, “only a dream.”

With a shake of his head he made to rise, halting when his hand made contact with a hard, round object. His fingers closed around the thing. Reluctantly opening his hand, he beheld there, resting contentedly in his palm, the Orb. It glowed softly, emitting a low, complacent hum.

“By the Mother,” he breathed, staggered by the proof that his dream had, in truth, been reality. He spoke into the quiet of the drowsy afternoon. “Lady of Atrios, I am honored. I await your bidding.”