Bellamy shuddered as Wanheda wove a silken scarf behind his neck and pulled him to a standing position. "Time to worship." She informed him, her lashes lowered as she drank in his physical prowess and led him to her vast bed. She lay back, stretching luxuriously, exposing her glorious body to him unashamedly.

Bellamy swallowed hard as she parted the gossamer gown she was wearing, her bare skin golden and smooth, her open legs warm and inviting.

There was something about this goddess-like woman that made Bellamy ignore the pain he was in and his exhaustion. He climbed above her, his injured wrists shaking as they supported his weight. His hands were on the soft bed, on either side of her head, his face only inches from hers.

He hovered, breathing in the sweet scent of lilies emanating from her skin, his dark eyes lost in her blue ones. Somewhere in the back of his mind the logical part of himself was screaming, what the fuck is going on here. The rest of him was intoxicated by her beauty and getting increasingly desperate to take her right there and then.

Something about this goddess seemed to dissipate inhibitions and Bellamy was in no position to fight against the electrifying current.

Before he had even realized that he'd decided, her lips were on his, her skin was on his, their bodies pressed against one another.

Bellamy's mind was engulfed with too many sensations as the golden woman devoured his body. Pain, pleasure, ecstasy, feelings, and emotions submerged his conscious as she ravaged him. It wasn't until he was firmly inside her, she was atop him, her core encasing his manhood, that his mind caught up with the moment.

He tore at the bed sheets, desperately floundering beneath her, the gratification of his body inside hers almost too delicious to bare. His eyes were glued to her glorious form, the heave of her round breasts, her elegant hips, flat waist, her limbs long and sculpted, her entire body one intoxicating work of nature's artistry.

Soon he could no longer bare the intensity and was soon panting in the heady air as he released his pent-up seed, shooting deep inside her as she slowly, sensually, rode out his orgasm to achieve her own. Bellamy moaned as she stood, his large and now flaccid manhood sliding out of her and hitting his abdomen with a meaty thud.

Wanheda massaged her womanhood, her hands between her thighs erotically a she stimulated herself. "Worship your god Bellamy Blake." She commanded, her voice cold, her eyes flashing indignantly as he watched from beneath her.

He sat up hurriedly, fumbling about, unsure of her vague instructions and consumed by the image of above him.

Tentatively he ran his hands up her legs, her creamy thighs hot under his hands as he drew closer to her wet, dripping centre. He prodded the folds curiously, having never explored woman in this way before, especially not a god-like one. Sure, he'd pumped his penis in and out of a few girls, and squeezed a few tits, but that kind of behaviour suddenly seemed coarse and uncultured in comparison to the art of Wanheda's bed.

Using his fingers, he caressed her folds, the juicy wetness inside, and he even discovered a delicate nub near the top of her sex. She shivered when he touched it and pushed herself against his fingers, using her own to guide him to rub the nub vigorously.

His goddess was getting wet, her moisture staining his fingers as he touched and stroked her sensitive areas with keen interest. Her juices were slippery and glistened beautifully, igniting Bellamy's curiosity. He slipped a finger from inside her into his own mouth and swallowed the sweet taste of her eagerly. Without thinking he nuzzled his face into her, his tongue penetrating her energetically as he figured out a new way to worship.

Bellamy continued his adventure between Wanheda's legs, his own manhood springing back to attention thanks to how horny the task made him. Enjoying his task and focused on the growing hardness of his own genitals, he was unaware of how enraptured Wanheda was with his efforts until her floodgates opened. Her whole body convulsed and she trembled with the strength of her orgasm as a stream of her glistening juices gushed from her cavernous womanhood, drenching Bellamy in the results of his efforts.

Wanheda collapsed on the bed, rolling away from him as she did so. "Worship is over. Go." She ordered breathlessly. She was cupping her breasts and squeezing her thighs together, wriggling on the bed as though to continue feeling those last moments of delight before they faded from her nerves.

Bellamy climbed out of the bed, squeezing is erect manhood, gazing at Wanheda's prone body wistfully as he staggered to the only door he could see.

He had no memory of arriving in the room and had no idea where to go or what to do when he was out. And he was naked and sporting a throbbing hardness in his lower regions.

He opened the door and was surprised to see that it led outside and that Raven was standing in front of him. Quickly he tried to cover himself with his hands, failing miserably as she smiled ruefully.

"Follow me." She instructed, her sweet voice ringing like a bell in the bright daylight. They were in a courtyard, tone walls around them, the hot sun above them. The ground was made of white marble and was warm in the sun. Great silken white canopies hung between trees, providing shade and tables were set up with fruit and wine, all arranged on lavish gold crockery. In the ground was large pool, and Raven was gesturing for him to get in it. Relieved for the coverage he stepped into the cool clear water, it was invigorating against his hot skin and he sank into it with a sigh of contentment. The cool water soothed his hot-headed manhood and slowly he deflated in the water. The deeper end of the pool had a ledge hanging over it and this was where Raven was now sitting, cross legged, several vials lined up beside her and wooden brush in her hands.

He waded over to the beautiful girl, who was wearing white trousers like he had worn earlier and what seemed to be a white silk scarf, tightly bound across her breasts. She smiled at him and handed over the brush.

"Here, make yourself clean again." She directed him, pouring one of the vials over his head.

He did as she said, scrubbing his body, and then submerging himself in the water, rising like a clean, sculpted god of the sea, but shaking his curly hair like a dog, spraying water everywhere.

Raven grinned, amused by him and held out a soft towel. "Come on, it's time to eat."

Bellamy took the towel, drying himself as he climbed from the pool and eagerly changed into a pair of the loose white trousers she had waiting for him.

"Why do you do all this stuff?" He asked, as they walked through the courtyard, exiting into a vast, pillared corridor.

"Wanheda had very specific uses for her slaves. You will learn the routines too." She answered plainly, showing him into a warm stone room, empty except for a table piled high with food that had a wooden bench running down either side of it. These were filled with all the slaves he had seen previously and a few unfamiliar. Murphy was not at the table, Bellamy noted as sat beside Raven, his hunger suddenly gnawing at him ferociously.

His wound on the other hand seemed to have healed almost completely. That pool must have been magical. He conceded, helping himself to large plateful of food.

The soft bread, creamy cheese and sweet fruits soon filled his stomach and the spicy wine washed it down spectacularly. The slaves around him were unlike anything he'd encountered before. They were all clean, eating this good food, wearing white like him and Raven, and engaged in lively chatter. It was both the strangest and most comforting thing he'd seen in months.

"So, did you impress Wanheda?" Jasper, the one who'd inspected him at the market asked, leaning across the table interestedly.

Bellamy shrugged, eyeing him suspiciously. "What's it to you errand boy?"

Jasper held up his hands surrender, chuckling in a way that suggested this wasn't the first encounter he'd had similar to this.

"I just wondered. Apparently, the other guy that came in with you, didn't worship all that well, didn't err, take to his new religion. She had him locked in the forgiveness chamber. I was wondering if you'd suffered a similar fate, but you must have impressed her, because here you are."

Jasper finished his ramble with a broad smile, oblivious to Bellamy's horror.

"What the hell is the chamber of forgiveness?" He demanded, partially concerned for his friend, partially raging with jealousy that he had touched Wanheda as he himself had. And his mind was reeling from Jaspers insinuation that all the slave's present had also had to, impress Wanheda, suggesting that all of them had had her the way he'd had her.

"That's where Wanheda keeps those who disappoint her, but only the ones she's going to give a second chance." Raven interjected, taking Bellamy's hand in her own and squeezing it in an effort to comfort him. "Murphy will be fine."

"This place is sick." Bellamy muttered darkly, pulling his hand from Raven's, missing her hurt expression.

He didn't care about Wanheda's rules, or her routines, and he didn't intend to abide by them. No, he wouldn't rest until she was his and only his. A goddess to worship, in any way she wished to be worshipped, so long as he was the only disciple kneeling at her alter.