El-Hani - A Story from Ancient Anatolia - parts 4, 5, 6

El-Hani's presence is requested at the temple for interviews; after 
a week of abstinence he meets the High Priestess herself, and 
learns more about the role of Consort to the High Priestess.

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El-Hani - The Choosing – Part 4

A woman – not a priestess, but a messenger – came from the Temple 
one day.  She asked to speak with El-Hani.  His sister relayed the 
request to him in the back courtyard, where he was sweeping up 
stone chips for his father.  His father watched him go into the 
house, with a bemused, private smile on his face.  

At the front door, the woman looked him over carefully before 
speaking.

“You are El-Hani?” she asked.  He might have been a little annoyed 
at the interruption, but intense curiosity overwhelmed any negative 
feelings.  He nodded, questions crowding his mind.

“The office of the High Priestesses require your presence at the 
Temple, one hour after dawn tomorrow.  You should wear a clean, 
plain tunic.”  She looked for understanding from his face.  He 
swallowed and nodded again.

“How long will it take?” he asked.  He thought he should tell his 
father that he might be late starting in the morning, if this 
Temple business took long.

 “You are one of 6 boys to be interviewed.  If you are first, it 
will take only a few minutes.  If last, perhaps an hour.  We can 
not be more specific. “  She smiled, a little apologetically.  
“This is a great honor, El-Hani.  You are big for your age, nearly 
a man.  

“The priestesses will ask you some questions.  Some of them will be 
very personal, but you should answer all questions as clearly and 
directly as possible.  They may ask to examine you.  There is no 
shame or embarrassment to show yourself to these priestesses – that 
is their job, and they need to see every part of you.  And – one 
other thing – “ she was looking at him closely, observing his 
reactions as she spoke – “ don’t touch yourself before then.  Do 
not spill your seed this night.  Do you understand?”

El-Hani was momentarilly non-plussed, his face blushing visibly in 
response to  her apparently psychic insight into the fact that he, 
a typical adolescent, masturbated almost every night to relieve his 
feverish libido, to capture once again that pure, intense burst of 
pleasure before sliding gently into sleep.

Not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded and smiled 
nervously at her.  He had never talked about his secret pleasures 
with anyone before, certainly not with a complete stranger, and a 
woman at that.  Yet the simple knowledge that she was speaking to 
him about it – that fact that she seem to know and understand his 
need – crept up on him with surprisingly erotic power.  Thinking 
about his nightly erections, the pleasure of touching himself, the 
fantasies streaming through his mind as he brought himself to a 
peak – El Hani was suddenly aware of the heat seemingly pouring 
into his genitals.  

He realized an erection was underway, and if this woman stood here 
talking any longer it was going to be as obvious as the sun in the 
sky.  He smiled at her again, said, “I understand” finally, hoping 
this would satisfy her so they could end the conversation.  

“All right, El-Hani.  And don’t worry.  I believe they will favor 
you.”  She glanced downward for just an instant, her look taking in 
some region just below his waist – or was it just a break in the 
conversation?  He wondered if anything was visible, already.

“ We will see you tomorrow, then.”  She gave him a cheerful smile, 
as if they had just been discussing the weather, maybe.  She turned 
and walked away, heading back to the Temple.  She was a very 
attractive woman, El-Hani was thinking.  He glanced down, 
belatedly, at the front of his tunic, to confirm visually what he 
was feeling.  His rising erection was visibly pressing against the 
coarse fabric, tenting it outward.  He shook his head, tried to 
think about moving stone for his father in the back workshop for 
the rest of the day.  It was going to be a long night.


Being Chosen – Part 5

Standing naked in front of four priestesses, as they surveyed his 
body, evaluated his level of physical maturity, would intimidate 
most boys.  They seldom responded erotically to the attention.  
Answering the most detailed questions about their habits, how often 
they masturbated, when and how they did it, would find most boys 
embarrassed, shriveled, and wishing they could be somewhere else 
entirely.  The rare few, however, like El-Hani, responded 
differently.  Although his nakedness and the questions felt just as 
embarrassing, the obvious sexual focus of the event – and in 
particular, the direct attention to his genitals – had quite a 
different effect.

As he turned for them, held requested poses, and finally faced them 
straight on to answer more questions, he found himself with a 
relentlessly rising erection.  Although the priestesses all watched 
its progress closely, they made no specific comment on it, and 
continued to ask him questions.  They asked him to turn, so they 
could view him from the side.  Finally they began asking questions 
about his erections themselves – frequency, initiating events, what 
he did when it happened, what sensations accompanied them.  The 
continuing focus on his erect penis only seemed to make it harder, 
and – understanding that this was, in part, the reason he had come 
here – he began to relax a little and enjoy the pure sensation of 
arousal.

They asked him to spread his legs, and one of the women went around 
behind him.  He tensed slightly, felt one hand come up between his 
legs, and began rolling first one testicle, then the other, between 
her fingers.  Then the hand moved back, pressing upward into his 
perineum, expertly exploring the hidden length of his penis behind 
the scrotum.

Finally she came partway around him and, kneeling on one knee, 
began to touch his penis directly.  She pulled it down, released it 
and watched it spring back up again.  She squeezed the hot shaft 
between thumb and three fingers, starting at the tip, working all 
the way back to the base – first lightly, then more firmly, as if 
evaluating hardness.  Finally she produced a fabric measuring tape 
and, pressing it lightly along the top of his erection, carefully 
measured its length.  This was followed by three different 
circumferential measurements at three points – at the base, center 
of his shaft, and just behind the glans.  She relayed the numbers 
to another priestess who documented them on a slate.

Then it was over.  They told him to dress, instructed him not to 
masturbate until after his return to the Temple, and he left the 
room – erection only slowly diminishing.  He had to wait in an 
anteroom several minutes, pretending to read the columns of sacred 
text inscribed on the wall, before it subsided and he could walk in 
public again without the obvious projection pushing out the front 
of his tunic.

The next week was difficult.  He knew he had passed a test of some 
sort, and had advanced to the next stage of the selection process.  
Having frequent and uncontrollable erections – the source of some 
annoyance, and more than a little embarrassment – now seemed to 
have become an odd virtue, to certain priestesses in the Temple.  
In the next few nights they became an absolute torment.  He 
obediently avoided touching himself, but the scene in front of the 
priestesses replayed itself in his mind, over and over.  It held 
him in a feverish pitch of arousal, able to sleep only fitfully, 
his penis resolutely rigid when he finally dropped into sleep, and 
just as hard when he awoke.

The High Priestess - Part 6

A week later he was back at the Temple.  He stood dressed in his 
best temple-going tunic in a large, brightly lit room, all stone 
walls and floor.  Openings in the ceiling let sunlight pour 
through.  A raised dais on one side held an elegantly carved chair; 
in the middle of the room, a brass cup of water and a small brass 
bowl stood on a low table. The priestess who brought him into the 
room asked him to stand near the table, and then three more 
priestesses entered from the other side of the room.  

This time, the High Priestess watched from a hidden vantage point 
as the other priestesses interrogated him.  The asked him if he had 
masturbated.  He shook his head.  Finally, she secretley signaled 
to them that his answers and appearance were acceptable.  The 
priestesses requested that he disrobe, and then turned and filed 
out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.  He carefully 
pulled his tunic off, over his head, and folded it, placing it on 
the table.  He began nervously pacing the length of one of the huge 
stone blocks that made up the floor.

The High Priestess entered the room soundlessly, startling him.  
She smiled reassuringly at him.  Although having twice his years, 
she looked younger than her 30 years, and walked with a catlike 
grace, strong thighs and smooth stride conveying her across the 
room toward him.  She clearly held the bearing of one who was 
comfortable wielding authority.  He knew enough not to challenge 
her with his eyes, and after a quick glance to take her in, looked 
downward with polite submissivity.

El-Hani was a fast learner, and adapted to new situations quickly.  
Being naked now, in front of a woman he had never met before, was 
less of a novelty, and he did not feel threatened, although she was 
the highest ranking individual in the Temple and clearly in 
charge.  Curiosity was another thing, and he had that in 
abundance.  But he held his tongue.

“Hello El-Hani”, she said.  Her voice was soft, extraordinary.  She 
asked him some of the questions he had answered a week before, from 
the priestesses.  That experience, and the repeated re-playing of 
the event in his mind over the past 7 days, had already begun a 
process of conditioning.  Again, the subject was his detailed 
sexual history, and the High Priestess apparently wanted to hear 
the answers for herself.  Had he ever slept with a woman?  Had he 
had any experiences of a sexual nature with a girl his age, or 
older?  Had any woman made him release his semen?

He could only guess at the powers and awareness of the High 
Priestess; it was understood she had certain abilities and 
insights, the exact nature of which were never specified in 
detail.  He decided he should hold nothing back.  He told her about 
the day in the market, the all-too-common and apparently unprovoked 
erection that afflicted him, and the woman who had discovered his 
condition in their accidental collision.  A hint of a smile played 
in the corners of the High Priestess’ mouth as he related the 
story, and he guessed he had done the right thing in telling her.

She sat on a cushioned chair on a raised dais, so that even though 
he was standing, they faced each other at near-equal levels.  He 
could hide nothing and stood naked, facing her directly, hands 
clasped behind his back.  Several things began relentlessly stoking 
his arousal as they talked: the effect of the brief conditioning 
experienced with the priestesses a week before, reinforcing his pre-
existing responses; the seven nights of torment since then, without 
release; his growing ease, as conversation continued, with the High 
Priestess, and the resumption of dialog with an almost totally 
sexual focus – all began to have its effect on him.  As he 
described the woman’s handling of him, his penis – the focus of the 
woman’s expert attention in his story – began to resolutely 
lengthen, and then to rapidly rise, until it pointed stubbornly 
straight at the High Priestess.  

She listened to his story, while watching his face closely, as well 
as the progress of his erection.  Was this an appropriate response 
in front of the High Priestess?  He wasn’t sure, but in the end it 
made no difference because there was no way he could have prevented 
it.  He grew a little flustered, stumbled on his story, and the 
High Priestess, understanding, asked him what the woman had said to 
him.  

He told her – leaving out, however, the slightly-mocking phrase the 
woman had quoted to him, “Possession of a penis is a privilege”.  
He guessed, correctly, that there was more than a little sacrilege 
in the way she had said it.  He told her how the woman admonished 
him about the fate of “indiscreet penises” – how she whispered in 
his ear, at the moment he began to come – “They cut it off!”  For a 
moment, the High Priestess looked almost as if she might laugh, but 
held in back.  She glanced at his penis, then back at his face, and 
asked, “How did that make you feel?”

El-Hani swallowed hard, an odd sense of deja vu at being intensely 
aroused, while describing it again to another powerful and 
attractive woman.  The sensations emenating from his throbbing 
erection, and the deeper ache in his groin from nine days of self-
denial, threatened to start his knees trembling.

“I ...I don’t really understand it”, he admitted.  “I know it 
should be an awful thing, a frightening thing to happen to a man.  
Yet I found myself – curious to learn more – and – maybe it was how 
she was touching me then, too – very aroused, to hear her talk 
about it.  That doesn’t – I guess it doesn’t make sense, does it?”

She looked at him sympathetically, then spoke, slowly and 
carefully. 

“It’s true, El-Hani, that there are those who do not deserve to 
have a penis.  They lost the privilege when they used it selfishly, 
abusively, to give pain and anguish when they could have given 
pleasure and love.  If a woman makes a criminal complaint about 
such a man, and he does not prove it a falsehood, he loses it.  
Justice is harsh, but important for social order.  Every boy, when 
he becomes a man, knows he must control himself, knows the 
penalty.  If he does not learn, we take from him that source of 
pleasure, that gift from the Goddess.

“It is a curious thing, isn’t it?” Her steady gaze moved between 
his face and his penis, observing everything.  “In my time as a 
priestess, and then as the High Priestess, I have seen the ritual 
blade applied to hundreds of men.  I’ve severed a hundred myself.  
I’m certain not one of them wanted to lose his penis, and many of 
them struggled mightily against their bonds.  Yet there is the 
occasional offender for whom the threat seems to be a paradoxical 
source of arousal.  We are prepared to stimulate him, to bring him 
to the state prescribed by law for the sacrifice.  Yet before we 
even begin, when he sees the blade or the cutting mechanism, he 
becomes erect.  Fully knowing what is to come, he is aroused by the 
prospect.  His penis rises to meet the blade.”

She stopped for a moment, then pointed to the cup on the low table 
beside him.

“You should drink now, I know you must be thirsty.”  He gratefully 
accepted, his rigid penis bobbing as he turned and stepped 
forward.  It was water, clear and cold.

“There is one other, El-Hani, who does not keep his penis all his 
life.  That one is the Chosen, my lover and consort, whom I select 
from all the youths who come of age each year.  He lives with me 
for a year, shares my bed, participates in all the rituals which 
are the foundation of our society and our religion.  In that year 
he experiences more than most men do in a lifetime.  In that year 
he will make memories of sacred sex, of a diversity and frequency 
that most men can only fantasize about.  He will never want, for 
nourishment, or for knowledge, or for respect, for the rest of his 
life.  In return, he dedicates his genitals to me, to the Goddess, 
and no one else may ever have them.

“Come closer, El-Hani, so I may look at you.”  He approached the 
dais, his erection bobbing from side to side with each step.  His 
face reddened slightly, but there was no diminution of his 
arousal.  “Step upon the dais, and turn to face the door,” she 
instructed.  Stepping up, his rigid penis was now almost up to her 
eye level.  Viewing it from the side, she could see the full and 
uncommon length of his erection.  She seemed to examine it closely 
for a full minute; then she rang a little bell, startling him.  
Three priestesses, who must have been waiting outside, entered 
through the door.  They all appeared younger then the High 
Priestess, in their late teens or early twenties, wearing identical 
robes.  They indicated no surprise, either at his nakedness or his 
aroused condition, as they approached.

“Step down, and these women will relieve your torment,” said the 
High Priestess.  “You have done well.”

He turned and stepped awkwardly to the floor again, self-conscious, 
not sure he could believe his ears.  Then the priestesses 
surrounded him, turned him gently by the shoulders so he was again 
sideways to the High Priestess.  One stood behind him, lightly 
pressed on the inside of his thighs so he would spread his legs 
more widely.  The second stood next to him, on the side away from 
the High Priestess, facing her.  The third stood a distance of 
several strides away, in front of him, evidently waiting.

The one to his side reached up and began stroking his penis with 
light touches, then more firmly.  At the same time he felt hands 
touching from behind, alternating between his aching testicles and 
deep perineal massage.  

A week of abstinence, nine nights of nearly constant arousal, and a 
youth’s inexperience with such expertly-administered attention made 
short work of him.  The one behind him was monitoring for signs of 
his incipient ejaculation; she nodded, almost imperceptibly, to the 
third priestess waiting in front.  El-Hani’s eyes were closed, 
fists clenched, body straining mightily, and barely heard her step 
forward with the little brass collection bowl.

The priestess working on his penis increased the length and speed 
of her pumping, her fist around his shaft thumping into his body 
with each stroke.  He reared back his head and gasped, as she aimed 
his erection precisely into the proffered vessel.  A gush of pearly-
white semen shot from him, splashed into the bowl with such force 
that a spray of droplets flew in all directions.  Another spurt 
followed, and another, seemingly without end, until El-Hani found 
himself sagging on the supporting arms of two of the priestesses.  
The third milked yet more drops from his still-rigid penis with 
long, continuous strokes traversing from its hidden root all the 
way to the tip.  She collected the last clinging drop from him with 
the cold edge of the bowl, then took it away and was gone.  One of 
the others fetched his tunic from the stool he had left it on, and 
helped him dress.

Belatedly, still in a languorous daze, he let his gaze slide over 
to the High Priestess.  She was still watching every motion of his 
young body, with a calm, bright alertness that he might have found 
disconcerting, had he not been so aroused.