Vaida's Harem - The Moments Between

Teaching Priscilla
Serra/Priscilla

Requested by Sara


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Priscilla had always liked to read. She enjoyed epic tales of gallant knights braving great odds to rescue their beautiful damsels. But it had recently started to dawn on her that, perhaps, those were not the only tales that could be told. It was the company she kept that was most likely the reason for her changing attitude. Vaida and Farina would balk at very concept of 'damsels' constantly having to be rescued and Isadora, as far as she could tell, was a gallant knight. True, she still rather enjoyed all those stories she grew up with, but it was starting to turn out that reality was a great deal more complex and interesting than fiction. Where were the books where a single noble brigade of pegasus knights thwarted an enemy invasion? Where were the noble princesses-in-exile forming a rebellion against the traitorous family occupying their throne? For that matter, why were the fairest maidens in the land always kidnapped by the dragon? Why didn't they elope with them from time to time?

But for some strange reason such stories were nowhere to be found. So Priscilla had decided to write them herself, even if she only did it so that she herself could then read them.

Unfortunately, writing was turning out to be rather tricky and the fact that she was almost constantly surrounded by others did not help. Fortunately, Castle Pherae was rather big for a Lycian castle and Priscilla had found a quiet chapel where she could work in peace, her only companion a silent statue of blessed Elimine.

She'd been working for some time when she noticed herself becoming warmer. Strange, because no fires or candles were lit in the chapel and the day had gone too far along to be getting any warmer.

Looking up, she saw Serra leaning towards her and glaring at her through narrowed eyes. For some reason Priscilla felt herself become warmer still.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Priscilla, I think it's about time we had a talk."

Priscilla blinked and put down her quill and paper. "What do you want to talk about?"

Serra sat down next to her on the pew and took her hand. It was a bit of a shame, Priscilla absently noted, that the cleric was wearing her gloves.

"Priscilla, I think someone ought to tell you that you don't need boys," said Serra.

Priscilla looked at her. She'd managed to understand every word Serra had said, yet somehow didn't understand the sentence.

"Yes?" she said, hoping that whatever Serra would say next would help make sense of things.

"So you don't need to turn any woman you're with into a replacement boy."

Understanding dawned on Priscilla. Or at least, she was pretty sure it had dawned.

"But Serra, when I'm with a woman, I'm with a woman," she said.

"Then why do you keep giving them... you know... boy parts. A woman can be satisfied just as easily by another woman without that kind of thing."

Priscilla wanted to tell her that, yes, of course she knew that and had done so on a number of memorable occasions. It was simply that her magic allowed her to explore certain... unconventional... options that she and the women she was with rather enjoyed. So why shouldn't they be explored? Or, for that matter, why would that make any woman she was with somehow something other than a woman?

Instead she said, "But nobody's ever really told me how."

It was not, technically speaking, a lie. But neither was it very honest. Priscilla felt like she ought to feel ashamed of herself for saying it, yet it also seemed as though she was playing some kind of game, perhaps. One she didn't know the rules to, but knew how to play anyway.

"Well, in that case I'm sure I can enlighten you," Serra said. She reached up with her free hand brushed Priscilla's cheek. "I can even show you. If you want me to."

"Would you?" Priscilla said, letting her mouth do the talking without really consulting her brain. "I would appreciate it."

Serra kissed her. It wasn't really a very good kiss. Not like Louise. But then again, nobody could kiss quite like Louise. If she were kind she would think of Serra's kiss as slightly too passionate.

Serra climed on top of her. Priscilla would not have thought it possible on such a narrow pew, but the cleric compensated by pressing very closely against her. Priscilla put her arms around her and held her tight, though not for fear of Serra falling off after all. The enthusiasm in Serra's kiss was infectious, and Priscilla found her own lips and tongue playing with hers.

Priscilla felt Serra's hand trailing down her arm and then press against her stomach. It was obvious to her what Serra wanted to do, but their bodies were so close together Serra could not get her hand between them.

Serra pulled away slightly to frown at her. "You could have chosen a better place for this, you know."

Feeling surprisingly flushed, Priscilla could only reply, "I agree a chapel might not be the best the place for this."

Serra smiled with twinkling eyes and placed a light little kiss on the tip of her nose. "Well, I'm sure I can make do."

The young cleric released herself from her embrace and kneeled down in front of her. Priscilla looked down at her pig-tailed pink hair, partly to watch the young woman reach underneath her skirt and partly so that she wouldn't have to look at the statue in front of her.

Priscilla felt Serra grip her panties and slide them down her legs until they inevitable ran against the barriers that were her travelling boots. She watched her grumble against her footwear for a bit before she decided to remove them, flinging them away without a care for where they landed. After both boots landed somewhere in the shadows, Serra returned to interrupted task of taking off Priscilla's panties. Unlike the boots, she didn't fling them away with disdain, apparently deciding that them lying around a single ankle was more than good enough.

Priscilla breathed in sharply when she felt Serra's tongue touch her. Her breathing turned heavy as the cleric kneeling between her legs lapped at her. Even through her rising arousal, Priscilla realised that 'lapping' was exactly the right word for it. Serra dragged her tongue up and down her slit as though she were a cat. It was not a bad feeling, far from it. She felt the slow heat of pleasure beginning to spread through her body, but it was a smouldering that wouldn't turn into a blaze. Serra's technique, if that it could be called, would give her frustrated lust, but no climax.

Priscilla put her hand on Serra's head and pushed her closer to her.

"Kiss me," she breathed.

There was a seemingly puzzled pause, Serra's tongue resting somewhere mid-lap. Then Priscilla felt the cleric's lips press against her and her tongue entering her. Even if she had wanted to, she could not stop the moan of pleasure spilling from her lips as Serra's tongue flailed aimlessly inside of her. She let go of Serra's head again when she felt the girl pull back. She looked down at the pink-haired girl only to see her looking up at her, a vague smile playing around her stained lips. Then, looking up for as long as she could, Serra leaned back in.

Closing her eyes, Priscilla moaned again when Serra's tongue entered her once more, more confidently this time. She slouched in her pew and spread her legs even wider, though there was no need for it. She felt Serra's tongue wandering around inside of her, apparently seeking out whatever would make her moan the loudest. She was forced to admit Serra was a quick learner. Though not as calculatedly sofisticated as Fiora could be, Priscilla nevertheless soon found herself writhing with pleasure. Any fear that Serra might not be able to bring her to an orgasm evaporated as Serra's eagerly exploring tongue managed to make her scream.

Priscilla's eyes fluttered open briefly, her gaze inevitably falling on the statue of Elimine. Even with the haze of lust clouding her mind, she could not help but wonder what the blessed saint would think of one of her own cleric tending to her lustful body. She expected to feel shame for defiling one of Elimine's chapel's with her obscenely spread legs, her flowing juices and carnal moans. Yet there was no shame or guilt and not just because Serra was still inside of her, pleasuring her. She got the strange but definite feeling that blessed saint Elimine truly did mind, that she might even smile on the feelings her servant awoke within her. She would have to talk to Isadora about this.

A deep groan escaped from between Priscilla's lips and her eyes closed again.

She would have to talk to Isadora later.

A little choked scream turned into a long moan as Serra found a particularly sensitive place.

Most assuredly later.

Moaning almost without pause except to take the barest breath, Priscilla found herself being driven onward and upward. Her body shuddered, her pussy tightening around Serra's tongue. With the sound of the cleric's surprised, but smothered, little squeak filling her ears, Priscilla came. It was not the longest or most satisfying orgasm she'd ever had, but pleasure was still pleasure and it surged through Priscilla's body in a single glorious wave.

Feeling her orgasm pass through her, Priscilla breathed in deeply and opened her eyes, seeing Serra's face right in front of her. The cleric smiled triumphantly, though her eyes could not quite hide a deep awe and affection.

"See?" she said. "Girls can do it just as well."

"Yes," said Priscilla, reaching out to stroke Serra's cheek. "Perhaps you could show me other ways of being with you as well."

"Well, I couldn't possibly give you that much special attention," Serra replied, eyes twinkling. "Other people need my attention too, you know. But I think I could get away with a little extra special attention."

Priscilla gave her a quick kiss. "I would like that."