Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age Eighteen, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting. The author may be contacted by sending email to: amaranta_fiore@yahoo.com _________________________________________ The Sacred Within Chapter 1: Wandering Goddess Author: Amaranta Fiore "Goddammit," she shouted as she stalked away from the ring of tents. "Why did I bother coming here, when all he cares about is digging in the ground?" she thought, as she struggled to hold back tears. Gwenyth Frasier had followed her heart. It had led her back to her husband, Dr. Michael Wilson, authority on Neolithic Minoan culture. She had followed him out to his latest dig at Ideon Andron because she wanted so much for their relationship to work. They had been separated off and on for the last eight years as he worked here in Crete and she on her medical degree back in the States. He had asked her to come with him, and, for the first time in her life, her career wasn't an excuse, so she had come to Crete. She was acting as physician to the archeological dig staff, but so far in the month she had been here, all she had done was treat a few cases of heat exhaustion and one snake bite, and the snake wasn't even poisonous. She was wasting away her talents, or so her colleagues had told her. "You are one of the finest surgeons I've ever had the pleasure to work with," Dr. Nordelstein, her idol, had complimented her. Of course, at the time, he had also had his hand on her knee and a bit too much gin on his breath. Dr. Nordelstein was also desperate to convince her to stay in the U.S., because he wanted her to work on trials of a radically new procedure. Gwen wasn't sure whether his interest was more professionally or physically motivated. He liked to hit on her, and she had brushed him off so many times now that it was almost a "normal" interaction between them. This whole fight had started because Michael had had the audacity to ask her if she had actually been faithful during their times apart. "Of course I have," she said. Michael said that he just wanted the truth, but the fact that he had even asked made Gwen peevish. Steve Waters was Gwen's best friend through medical school. They had studied together because they were outcasts, he the only black man and she the only woman in their class. They had naturally gravitated to one another since they didn't fit in with their other classmates, but they had never been more to one another than friends. God, she had wanted a man so badly sometimes and Steve was single, but she had never broken her wedding vows. Michael had virtually ignored her for two weeks and now had asked her this. The question of her fidelity had come up because he wanted to make sure she was ready to start a family. She had told him she wasn't ready yet, that she wanted more time to establish her career and work in the hospital. As it turned out, Michael had been offered a position teaching at a small college that was willing to fund his yearly trips to Crete to research, and he had accepted. He just assumed that Gwen would be willing to have a nice practice in the small college town and have a baby. She had thought he might apply to the large university, and she could continue to work as a surgeon. "I guess you want to go on with whatever you have with him, don't you?" Michael blurted out. "This is a fictional relationship you have invented! Steve and I have never been more than good friends, I can't believe you are doing this," she had sobbed and run out of the tent. Now here she was on Mount Psiloritis, isolated, twenty kilometers from the closest village, stumbling along a dirt path at dusk. She could barely see where she was going, she was so filled with anger, tears clouding her vision. She stopped for a moment and tried to collect herself. Drying her eyes with the corner of her camp shirt, she tried to calm her breathing. She sat down on a rock by a small rivulet to think. Calmer now, she knelt by the water's edge and scooped some to her face in her cupped hands. The cool water helped to clear her head a little. "Why am I so easily upset by Michael's accusations?" she pondered. She felt unimportant here as a part of the excavation team. She had come to spend time with Michael and he didn't really have time to give her. He was so busy lately. "I guess when he questioned the sincerity of my commitment to him along with all of the bottled up feelings of neglect, I guess I snapped", she thought. "Maybe it's because I wanted to take back my promise that his questions cut to the quick." She began to look around and realized that she wasn't quite sure where she was, and it was nearly dark. She had better head back or she might not find her way. Gwen started to walk in the direction she thought was the way to camp. She was going up the mountain, so that seemed right, but she wasn't sure which way she had left camp, since she had been so upset. She continued for a while, and it was getting darker, as there was no moon tonight. She could see a little cave up ahead in the darkness; maybe she should sit there for a while, she thought. She felt her way just into the entrance to the cave and sat on a rock to think about what to do. Michael and the other archeologists had been excavating inside a sacred cave called Ideon this summer. Ideon was supposed to be the cave where, according to mythology, Rhea hid the baby Zeus from the murderous Saturn. Over the past few years, Michael and his staff had found some cult objects, along with statues and bronze shields, all of which were now on display in the Heraklion Archaeological Museum. Gwen knew from her time with the archeologists that Crete was riddled with caves, many of them used during the Neolithic period as sacred places of worship. Some of the caves are used today by those who still attempt to practice the ancient religious rituals. It seemed strange to Gwen that the Cretan people worship God at the local Catholic Church and also worship the Earth as mother-goddess in the caves. Gwen's wanderings in the dark must have tired her more than she knew, because she soon found herself sitting on the ground with her back against the rock. The next thing Gwen was aware of was a noise. It was a sweet, whistling sound, almost melodic. She sat up, straining to hear it. Her back was very stiff, and she figured she must have drifted off. She listened very closely. The sound seemed to be coming from deeper into the cave. Gwen was hesitant to proceed farther into the cave for fear of getting lost inside, or worse, falling into a pool and being unable to get out. But the sound was intoxicating, fueling her curiosity. Gwen slowly crept into the cave, feeling her way along the wall. She stumbled a few times over small rocks on the cave floor. The sound was definitely getting louder. She continued to follow the sound until it was quite loud indeed. From the ringing feel of the acoustics, Gwen perceived that she was in a much large space now. Maybe the narrow cave shaft had opened into a large room, or were her ears playing tricks on her? No, she was in a larger space, because she could no longer feel across to the other cave wall. Afraid to walk freely into the space since it was so very dark, Gwen clung to the wall, inching her way along. The cave shaft she had followed into this room had been cool and a bit dry, but here, strangely, the larger space was damp and much warmer. The sound was growing still louder. It began to ease into a sort of rhythmic cadence. Thrumm, thrumm, thrumm, it droned. It reminded Gwen of the lowest tones of a pipe organ, combined with the drone sound of a bagpipe and the hum of a digirado. The power of the vibrations resonated such that Gwen could feel it in her chest. She stopped her progress along the wall, trying to locate the source of the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint glow. She didn't think it had been there before. She started forward again. Elements of the sound started to sound like chanting, and the glow was becoming brighter and more focused as Gwen made her way around what seemed to be a small, low opening. Gwen could barely discern the opening in the dim light. It was only about four feet high, and it appeared to go back toward the source of the sound and light for fifteen to twenty yards. She couldn't see the light source, but the glow was more intense at the end of the tunnel. Gwen hesitated, unsure of whether to proceed. But she had to know what that sound was and who might be in this cave. She squatted down, inching her way forward. Slowly creeping toward the light, she came to a slight bend in the tunnel. Around the curve, she could see movement through a definite end in the tunnel, only ten feet away. Several people were moving about what looked to be another large cave room. The sound, which Gwen could now hear clearly as chanting accompanied by primitive instruments, was swelling to a crescendo. As she thought it could get no louder, she suddenly felt a pair of arms grab her. She started to scream, but the wind was knocked out of her as she landed hard on the floor of the tunnel. In a blur, she was pulled along toward the lighted cave room by the strength of what felt like a bull. The arms of her captor were locked around her. She didn't even have the presence of mind to struggle much till she was hauled into the open room. The chanting stopped, but the instrumentalists continued as Gwen was thrust into the midst of the gathering. There were a dozen or more women in the chamber, all dressed in red long draped type tunics with gathered bodices. Gwen stared at the assembly as a woman stepped forward from the group. She was not dressed like the others. She was wearing a long skirt of a deep blood-red color, made from long strings. The strings swayed as she walked, revealing that she wore nothing underneath. The woman, who appeared to be the leader of this group, also wore nothing from the waist up. She had a commanding presence that was emphasized by the full curves of her Junoesque figure. She glided commandingly toward Gwen and spoke. Gwen looked at the woman, too stunned to answer as she realized that the beautiful verdi gris bracelet wound around the woman's right forearm was actually a live snake. The woman was obviously asking her what she was doing here. However, Gwen did not understand. The priestess continued, though her speech was still incomprehensible to Gwen. The priestess asked if she had come at the call of the mother. Gwen hoped someone here spoke English, so she told the woman that she had lost her way in the dark and that she was from the archeological camp. No one seemed to understand her, so she knelt down and tried to mime the motions of the archeologist's digging in the earth. After a few moment of repeating her story and miming the action, she heard a low gasp from one of the women. The woman rushed forward to the priestess's side, explaining in rapid Greek. The woman's explanation causes the priestess and the group of women to grumble in response. Clearly, the group seemed to dislike the archeologists intruding. The leader queried very angrily, as to whether she was one of the professors or just a student spying on them. Gwen didn't understand. She shook her head, questioningly. Gwen struggled and slowly spoke, "To honoma moo Gwen." "Gwen" the priestess repeated. The priestess pointed to Gwen and then to the ground by her feet. Gwen was puzzled, what did the woman mean to say. Then is came to Gwen that the priestess wanted to know if Gwen was and archeologist too. She shook her head, "No. Ochi. Doctor. Didaktora." Gwen explained that she was the camp's physician and not an archeologist. The woman smiled and she seemed to believe Gwen. The priestess took Gwen's hand and helped her up from the floor of the cave where she had been kneeling. With a flick of her wrist, the leader waved away the large man who had forced Gwen into the chamber. The woman tried to explain that the assembly was gathered to pay homage to the Mother of all life, the Goddess who has blessed her children on Crete for countless generations. Gwen frowned, not understanding. The priestess continued, she told Gwen that these women would help her return to camp. pantomiming toward the entrance of the cave. Gwen smiled and started to move to the tunnel, but the priestess grabbed her arm and indicated that Gwen must promised to not reveal this sanctuary to her colleagues. Or so Gwen seemed to think that the priestess's action of indicating the group and then placing her finger to her lips with a hushing noise, probably meant that she must remain quiet about what she had seen. Gwen agreed by nodding her head. The women pressed in, making a tight circle around the priestess and Gwen. The priestess continued to talk, telling Gwen that it is traditional to sacrifice to the Goddess on this auspicious night. Gwen nodded, trying to indicate she whould keep quiet, but the priestess firmly took her hand again and led her to a large stone platform with an even larger stone sculpture behind it. The sculpture was a figure of a woman very late in pregnancy, her body plump and boundless with life. The bottom part of the statue resembled several Gwen had seen on Crete, with the legs and hips of the woman plump and rounded. Emphasizing the hips of the figure were skirt-like drapings with long parallel lines. Gwen remembered that many of the archeologists had puzzled at why the clothing on the partial statues they had found at sites had such strange parallel lines that seemed to indicate a skirt, and yet the curves of the body could be so prominent. Gwen had discovered the secret to the apparel. The statue obviously had on the same type of clothing that the priestess wore. This statue, however, was different from the ones Gwen had seen around Crete because it was complete-- the whole body plump, round, and curvy. It reminded her of that little statue called the Venus of Willendorf, but this was much grander, as the figure here was about ten feet tall. The statue had no face, but the head was adorned with finely carved ringlets of hair that were formed into concentric horizontal bands. Gwen looked from the Goddess statue to the priestess and back. The priestess was physically so similar to the statue that she seemed the very embodiment of it. Laughter danced in the priestess' eyes as she observed Gwen's realization and smiled as if to say "I am She." The priestess then spoke again, telling Gwen she must give a sacrifice to the Goddess for disrupting the ceremony. One of the women came forward with a small bowl of olives and placed it at the foot of the statue. Gwen looked at the priestess, who seemed to be indicating that Gwen should place something there too. Gwen was concerned, as she had left the camp in such a fury that she had brought nothing with her that she could give. She looked to the priestess and the others and raised her hands, palms upward, hoping they would understand. She tried to ask if she could bring something in the morning to make amends, but before she could utter a word, the priestess grabbed her hands and laughed. She explained that this was the Goddess' place and a woman gave of herself and not of things. Gwen didn't understand, but the priestess beckoned to the others and the strange music began again. The priestess still had Gwen's hand clasped in her own, and Gwen flinched as she felt the small bracelet-serpent's tongue tickle the fold of skin between one of her fingers. The priestess looked down at the snake. She made a clucking sound with her tongue, and the serpent retreated back to coil about her forearm. The priestess brought her other hand up to cup the curve of Gwen's cheek, and Gwen shivered as the light reflecting in the priestess' eyes made her seem possessed. Maybe she was, Gwen thought with a start. She was afraid now, yet the woman was very gentle. Something told Gwen she would not be hurt, but she still wasn't sure of what was going on around her. Two of the other women came forward and each took one of Gwen's elbows and guided her toward the center of the chamber where the others were swaying to the music and chanting. The man who had forced Gwen from her hiding place passed them on his way to the statue. He glanced at Gwen and smiled, but did not stop. Gwen turned to look back and saw the man was now kneeling where she had been standing. Gwen wasn't sure if he was a supplicant to the statue or the woman or both. The women released their guiding hold on Gwen, and she stood where they left her in the center of a loose circle. Gwen listened and watched as those around her slowly danced and sang. The women had at first danced individually; now they began to slowly move together in groups of two or three. They moved so gracefully that Gwen was mesmerized by them. After a few moments, one of the women broke out of the group and came toward Gwen with her hand outstretched. Gwen accepted her hand and the woman led her toward the dancing circle. Gwen tried to imitate the movements of the graceful woman. She struggled at first, but was soon feeling more comfortable. The dancing women moved around, swinging the movement of the whole in a counterclockwise direction. As Gwen came around to the part of the circle that was closest to the statue and priestess, she looked up to the dais. The priestess was sitting on a small wooden chair, with her knees pulled up over the arms of the chair. The large man was kneeling at her feet, with his face buried between her legs. Gwen gasped, but the small noise she made was buried under the sounds of the music, the singing women, and the moaning of the priestess. Gwen was stunned at what she was seeing, and she stopped dancing to watch. The woman who had led her into the dance stopped as well. Gwen turned to her and saw that she was swaying to the music as she watched. The woman slid her hand into her gown and fondled her own breast. Gwen felt warm as she watched, wishing she could be so free with herself as the woman next to her was. Feeling so very warm, she shut her eyes for a moment, slowly opening them when she felt a hand moving around her waist and a pair of breasts pressed against her back. Several of the women moved around Gwen. The woman who had led her into the dance was now standing in front of her, slowly unbuttoning her blouse. The woman looked into Gwen's eyes and seemed to be asking for approval. Gwen's eyes widened, and this seemed to be approval enough, for the woman behind Gwen slid her hand over the waistband of Gwen's shorts, tugging at the snaps. The women gently undressed Gwen, fondling her breasts and rubbing her back. When she stood completely naked, the women stepped back. The priestess now stood in front of Gwen. The regal woman stepped forward and placed a hand to cup Gwen's breast. The priestess placed her other hand on Gwen's small rounded belly. The priestess smiled and slid her hand slowly, almost teasingly, lower until she delved into the folds of Gwen's vulva. Gwen moaned as the woman found warmth and wetness. The priestess moved her finger in a slow circle and withdrew her hand. "Come," she said, "you may repay your debt to the Lady." The priestess turned and moved toward the dais. Gwen followed, feeling as if outside her body. As she moved closer to the dais, she again heard the strange "thrumm" vibrations that had led her to this place. She shook her head to try and unmuddle her senses, but to no avail. She wanted to sit in that chair so terribly that she felt compelled to approach in spite of her fear. With a burst of determination, Gwen glided up the three steps to the platform of the dais. The priestess turned around and took Gwen's hand and led her away from the chair to the statue. The Goddess statue seemed to be emanating that sound, "thrumm, thrumm." Gwen tried to pull back, but the priestess pressed her hand to the stone, against the foot of the figure. The noise exploded in Gwen's head, becoming a scream in her brain. She could hardly breathe, and she felt her heart would burst. Just as she was about to succumb to the void, the priestess pulled her from the stone. Gwen fell back, suddenly very cold in her nakedness, and closed her eyes to the darkness. The last thing she heard was the priestess' voice saying, "She is of the Lady."