From Lupercalia:

Passing through the temple’s simple, cylindrical columns, the priestess led Claudia by the hand to a small antechamber where steam, lavender and woodsmoke wafted into her nostrils. On the floor fauns and nymphs frolicked sensually in an intricate mosaic, around a small round pool that was steaming invitingly. High above, sunbeams from tall open windows glimmered through the fragrant mist.

Claudia disrobed without being told and slipped into the hot steamy bath. The pool was deep, allowing her to stretch out and feel her tense muscles soften. When she closed her eyes and submerged herself completely, the world outside disappeared, just the water’s warm embrace and the surreal sound of it sloshing against her ears.

After bathing, the priestess helped Claudia from the pool and dried her with a linen towel, before encouraging her to recline on a long stone platform nearby, which turned out to be warm to the touch, and surprisingly comfortable to lie on. With comforting glances, the priestess parted Claudia’s legs and massaged a slippy oil into her crotch. Then she delicately shaved Claudia with a small razor until her lips were bare and smooth, and only a small neat triangle of her pubic bush remained, its apex pointing down to the hood of her clit.

The massage that followed was unlike anything Claudia had ever experienced. It began normally enough, Claudia turning over to lie on her front and being slathered with warm fruity, spicy fragrant oils. The priestess began at the tips of her toes, roaming the soles her feet, before sliding up the backs of calves.

Further up, the rubbing became slower, more sensual, the thumbs of the priestess lingering on her sensitive inner thighs, caressing every curve of her buttocks, then gently spreading her cheeks apart until her pink crinkled hole was revealed. The slick skillful fingers slid across the exquisitely sensitive skin of Claudia’s freshly shaved perineum. And then her little moans turned to gasps as the fingers strayed upwards. Her masseur shushed her, continuing to circle round and around, round and around, as if casting a magical incantation, an enchantment to open her tight little hole.

When the priestess did eventually sink her oily finger deep into her bottom, what shocked Claudia most was not the illicit nature of the invasion, but how pleasurable it felt. Something about it made her feel naughty. So very naughty. It made her feel like she should be the one bending over that gate, that she should be the one having her buttocks whipped…”

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Image: Virgilio Tojetti – L’heure Du Bain – 1897