Chapter Text
The candles guttered as a rush of air entered with the first of two sisters who would be part of the evening's ritual. Those who had gathered for the proceedings shuddered as the chill breeze shot up their long sleeves and down the cowled necks of their robes. The circle parted to allow the disrobed but masked Sister through.
Many eyes watched her progress, but more than a few looked upon the mask of Tiamit, Babylonian goddess of fertility, with a mixture of awe and horror. The mask was forged from copper, gold and varied gemstones, depicting a beautiful but fierce dragon, so detailed that one would not find it hard to imagine smoke and fire belching from the mouth. The anonymous sister looked at no one, but stepped forward to meet Papa Nihil.
Papa, equally naked and masked, his portraying Tiamit’s husband Abzu, took her hands and drew her further into the circle towards the raised dais in the center where a high altar waited for them. The circle quietly closed behind her, and all began to chant in low voices. Only a slight stumble on the steps betrayed her fraught nerves. Papa stopped and tipped her chin up with a single finger so he could look directly into her eyes.
“Steady, la mia nave. You are receiving a great blessing, to be chosen from so many to carry the future of the Ministry within your womb. Many of those gathered around us now would crawl over broken glass to take your place to be the bearer of a future Papa.”
The nameless sister remains silent, but Papa Emeritus Nihil feels her energy change, her back stiffening, as if to gird herself to the task ahead. She turns away from him and continues up the steps. She turns back to him and with a crook of her finger she beckons him to join her.
As Papa and the sister began the fertility rite that was to result in the bearing of fruit nine months hence, ensuring the continuation of the Emeritus leadership of the ministry, the chanting grew louder and the assembled began to sway in a pantomime of the entangled bodies on the dias.
When they were finished, the sister, still masked to ensure her anonymity, was wrapped in a robe and whisked away by the Imperator down one of the many passageways leading away from the ritual room.
No sooner had the first sister exited the chamber, a second sister entered from the opposite side of the space. She also wore only a mask, but this mask depicted Tiamit as a great sea serpent. Equally as lifelike as the previous dragon mask, again the onlookers were transfixed, but this time, only in horror of the monstrous creation.
Papa rose from the dias, appearing more rumpled than when the first sister arrived. His hair was tousled, no longer slicked back, his mask was askew, and his skin was covered with the sheen of the perspiration of exertion.
Nonetheless, he trotted down the steps to greet the second sister, in much the same way he had the first. He noted that instead of the shy anxiousness of the first sister, this one needed no encouragement to take the steps. Her eyes betrayed her excitement and her pride for having been chosen for this honour.
Slightly winded, and definitely not as animated, Papa climbed the steps behind her, sipping from the vial that had been passed to him by a member of the clergy. He could practically feel himself become more invigorated, and his limp cock leaped back to a state of readiness, as the chanting from the circled members rose to a crescendo once again.