Well, friends... you are in for a treat! This is an incredible, steamy and romantic piece by a brilliant and beloved sister of mine - she will be eager to hear your comments and feedback, so please do share!
The Apprenticeship to Radiance
For seven years, Cinderella had knelt at the altar of her own becoming—not in deprivation, but in devotion. Celibacy was her apprenticeship, a sacred forging of beauty, a kindling of the glow that simmered beneath her skin. She studied under the mothers, those ancient keepers of feminine secrets, who taught her the art of radiance: not a lure strained through effort, but a magnetism that bloomed from presence alone. They showed her how to rest in her own splendor, how to let her essence spill forth without chasing the gaze of another. And in time, her body became a chalice, brimming with a knowing that pulsed through her veins.
One day, she felt it—ripe as a peach splitting under its own weight, her flesh humming with readiness. She was no longer content with mere pleasure or the fleeting touch of a man. She craved surrender, a force potent enough to crack her open and carry her to the divine. She longed for a presence so commanding it would flood every cell, a cock gilded in godliness to pierce her to her core and unleash a river of bliss too vast to contain.
There was only one place for such a reckoning: the great halls, where men converged like pilgrims—warriors of the soul who had honed themselves across lifetimes, mastering the arts of penetration, devotion, and unshakable presence. The halls loomed in whispers—stone steeped in sweat and oaths, a crucible where men forged themselves or shattered trying. Only the bold crossed its threshold; the weak didn’t leave whole. She dressed for the journey, her corset cinched tight, lifting her breasts like an offering, her long skirts whispering against her thighs, the earthy fabric clinging to her curves. Each step through the velvet night was a prayer, drawing her closer to the altar of her own hunger.
The Nights of Initiation
The halls were governed by laws older than the stones beneath her feet, sacred rules known to every man and woman who crossed the threshold. They were not mere games, but rites—designed to strip away pretense, to refine the dance of surrender and claiming.
Night One: The Embrace
On the first night, she stood as the lone woman among them, a flame circled by shadows. One by one, the men approached, gathering her into their arms. Fully clothed, she felt their hands claim her—fingers curling around the swell of her hips, palms pressing into the meat of her thighs, the heat of their bodies seeping through her skirts. It wasn’t their touch she weighed, but their hunger: a silent, primal command that roared louder than words. Some gripped her with trembling need, others with a steady ache. She drank it all in, her skin alight with their wanting.
Night Two: The Unveiling
Second night, they stripped her to the waist—corset yanked open, breasts spilling out, nipples stiffening under the candlelight’s glare. Each man stepped up, and she drank them in: hot breath grazing her skin, lips sucking sharp and greedy, or just eyes, heavy as lead, raking her bare. Every move landed—some rushed in, fingers clawing fast, claiming her curves with a hunger she savored; others held back, hands steady, tracing her pulse with a slow tease she could ride. A few sank in deeper, their touch deliberate, unlocking her heat like a puzzle, and she liked that best—though the sharp smacks—fingers pinching, a palm cracking her nipple—stung with a thrill she chased, their dominance a flavor she rolled on her tongue. And a rare few touched her as though tracing a prayer, their patience a quiet fire that stoked her own.
Night Three: Blindfolded Devotion
Third night, a blindfold turned her into pure flesh—sight gone, just worshipful sensation flooding in. Mouths descended—tongues hit her from every angle: soft and coaxing along the folds of her cunt, firm and probing at the tight ring of her ass, sucking greedily at her clit. Bearded men scratched her thighs, clean-shaven ones slid smooth against her, eager relentless ones buried their faces deep, each clocked to a few minutes. Blind, she drank them in—hesitant flicks sparking her edges, bold strokes diving hard, all landing hot. The men watched each move, eyes raking her, cocks straining hard against their pants, swollen and trapped, rules chaining them from ripping free.... (the rest of the story for premium members)
