THE PRIESTESS

Sent: Sunday, May 03, 2015 at 4:31 PM
Subject: THE PRIESTESS

tutoring the new supplicant
tutoring the new servant

He must come to me on his knees ready to be mine no matter what i ask of him. But what is it that has captured him so? That he would be willing to give his life, his soul to me and my gods?

*my beauty
*my grace

my strength
my power
my wisdom
the mob at my command
Or is it something i hold in my eyes when he looks at me? A mystery maybe? Something he has never seen before and suddenly must have or die trying?
Has he heard what i am likely to ask of him and let it wrap itself around his mind until he came to me like an automaton, unable to refuse me?

Now i will quit speaking of him and speak instead of the lessons he must walk thru to get to my hand so he can just kiss my fingers.

water

he must be able to hold his breath for as many minutes as our strongest man can under water. he must be able to swim thru even the surliest seas. he must appear to be controlling the waves as he lifts his hands, he knows their movements so well.

air

he must be able to run as if he sits at his bedside and barely moves. so controlled are his breaths. he must be able to look as if he walks calmly down the street or dances a very slow waltz with his love, grace and serenity in his face as he moves even at high speeds. no panting or red face.

earth

he must be able to walk miles into the earth and find his way calmly back to the opening without panic or loss of his composure and keep track of where he is as if he were part of the earth, born of it somehow. he must be able to be buried alive and remain calm and of whole mind until relieved.

fire

he must be able to calmly and with still body accept a baptism of fire and walk over hot coals. he must be tortured with brands as his markings of achievement.

his mind

he must be able to read, write and speak our holy tongue and recite from our temple books as if he has been reading from them since he was a child. he must be able to call to mind it’s best poems with no script in his hand.

magicks

he must be able to soothe a beast and a colicky infant with just a tender touch and a smile. he must walk with storms and count the stars by name and history. he must read portends. and tell the immediate future accurately as well as read the heart of the soul in front of him. he must know healing and nature well.

and he must think i am the sexiest woman alive.

what is common in these things besides his will? he must be at peace, must meditate as if he were a vessel of the gods, not a man any more. and he must see me as his bride.

in his arms

i must be his true love and his child, his servant and his mistress. we must explore all our senses and every possible position until we are one unit of lust.

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