[M4F] Priestesses of Love (fantasy, romance, orgasm overload, religious tropes)

"May the Light of the Goddess dwell within you."

It was a common benediction to hear in any part of the Settled Lands. The Capitol was no exception, and the closer one got to the Cathedral, the likelier it became. No matter how pastoral or cosmopolitan, nowhere was so dark that the Light of the Goddess of Love could not illuminate it.

For most civilized people, there was no cause to think on the matter further. But the Church itself knew there was more to it. There were parts of the Realm where darkness made itself known, and in those places, evil could take root. It could infect folks, even those of the stoutest souls, and corrupt them from within. That corruption could fester within them and, if it were allowed to remain, it threatened to spread like pestilence.

So the Church knew its task. Light was not rain, saturating the world at only the whims of the Gods and insinuating itself wherever it fell. No, sometimes light had to be borne, spread by the strongest of the faith. Those stalwart few who were willing to bring it to the places it was most needed, to uncover the craven and the unjust, and to scour the land clean of darkness to its very last tendrils... only they could ensure the Light shone everywhere.

They were ordained by the Church, anointed by the Light itself, hallowed to their very cores. They served as bastions of good, champions of faith, givers of succor, and bearers of the Light itself. Holy clerics in service to the Goddess.

Priestesses.

From their 18th year, they were taught letters and liturgy, educated in the history of the Church and its triumphs as well as its enemies. They were trained in combat and in ceremony, honed like steel into weapons against the undead and the unrighteous alike. They learned compassion and community, and were as able and willing to help raise a barn or lay a foundation as they were to offer counsel to a new mother or a struggling parishioner. They kindled their faiths into bonfires, eternal flames that could stand against woes and worldliness, leaving no shadow left unbanished. and They were tools for the Goddess, and there was no task they were unready to address.

For their devotion, the Goddess granted them blessings. Their strength and resiliency were unparalleled. Their willpower and conviction were unassailable. They could act as conduits of the Light, healing wounds and curing maladies and driving out dark spirits. They could even empower themselves and others in their struggles against their adversaries. Best of all, they could offer prayers to the Goddess and receive Her wisdom. They were not monks, whose divine communion was broader than their focused purview, but in their duties there was no gift they lacked. They were exalted.

They'd have to be.

From the inner cloisters of the Cathedral, the visions came. Prophetesses and oracles alike spoke of fearsome dreams, hazy at first but solidifying quickly into baleful futures. None was quite the same as any other, but the portents they contained were unified in their meaning: the forces of the Dark Lady, the demonic being who'd long ago suffered her supposedly-final defeat, were mustering again.

Common people liked to think of Love as spontaneous, uncontrolled and unstoppable but always welcome. Poets and the nobility who read their work believed Love was gentle and gradual, growing slowly like a dewy flower opening to soft morning sunshine. The hard-hearted held that love was weak, enfeebling those who contract it and compromising their capacity to do what must be done.

The Church of the Goddess of Love knew that all of these were wrong. Love's apparent unpredictability derives from the fact that it comes when it must, and the signs are always there if one knows how to see them. Love's gentleness is that of the warrior at rest, for there is no ferocity in nature or in mankind that holds a candle to Love.

No, Love is strength, steadiness, security. Love is hard like forced labor, hopeful like a planted field in a drought. Love is a hurt that leaves us mended, a humbling that leaves us healed, a weapon that leaves us bleeding but never bloodless. Love is bigger than the sum of the lovers who share it. When wielded wisely, it triumphs.

Faced with the return of the Dark Lady's minions, the Church needed new wielders.

So they asked him, a legend who'd long since earned his rest, to return. To teach and train a new class of recruits. To enlighten the brightest, inspire them to reach the heights the world would require of them... heights previously reached only by himself. To teach them about Love.

The warrior, not old in years but in days, could only accept. He'd served Love his entire life, made himself a hero in Her service again and again. When he was allowed to retreat to a quiet life of monastic devotion, he accepted, for his truest love was Love Herself. Now that She asked for him again, how could he say no?

His armor still fit his body, just as his sword fit his hand. The looks of recognition as he made his way through the Cathedral grounds were more than enough fanfare to herald his homecoming. He wasn't here to be celebrated or congratulated – he'd had enough of that before his retirement. He was here for them, the fresh-faced women he was tasked with training. Only his mission mattered.

He'd be their teacher and their leader, guiding and shaping them both into holy warriors and into a cohesive unit. They weren't in this alone, and it was his duty to help them rely on each other as much in their training as in battle. He'd teach the worship of Love, its sacredness and its sacraments, to each of them and all of them. And when he was done with them, they'd be as invincible for the Goddess as they were for him. No other force but Love could accomplish such a thing.

"May the Light of the Goddess dwell within you," he heard as he made his way down the hall to meet his trainees. It was the prioress preparing them for his arrival. The words were met with a dozen or more sopranos and altos, each distinct to his ear. He could hear their zeal, their nervousness, their eagerness. Their hope.

That was his cue.

---

Thanks for reading. This is a simple fantasy setting focused on the all-female clergy of the Goddess of Love. We have a prophecy of impending doom, so the Church has decided it needs more priestesses to combat the coming darkness. Our story is about a group of priestesses-in-training who have been put in the care of a legendary paladin, our hero. Together, they'll learn the true sacred nature of Love from him, elevating them in their faith and making them the holy knights they've aspired to become.

This prompt is flexible in the way it plays out, and I want to flesh out the story with my partner. This is a romance story, of course, in addition to being a fantasy adventure. The heroines will fall for the hero and for each other, accepting Love into their hearts as the source of their faith, and it'll all happen through the hero's guidance. But how? There are so many options for us to plan and discuss, and I'm excited to figure it out with you!

A few notes first:

• This is a co-written story, meaning neither of us will "own" the characters exclusively. We want these protagonists to progress through a story for which we're both authors and audience, so while I'll likely write for the hero by default and you'll write for the heroines in the same way, our goal is to create a sensible and fun narrative without possessiveness. This is something I'm happy to elaborate on in PMs.

• This will mean a lot of discussion outside the fiction, both before we begin and as we're writing, so that we're on the same page and bought in to what's on that page. Our story installments will be lengthy (more than just a few paragraphs, often much more) and literary – I don't mind occasional typos and such, but grammar and effort matter. The pacing will take a back seat to real-life considerations, of course, but we'll both try to write a few installments a week if not one every day or two. This will be a long-term arrangement.

• I'm imagining this is going to be maybe a 70/30 story to smut ratio, though that's negotiable. The divine ecstasy of loving the hero that overloads the heroines with orgasms is a device of the story, not the goal of it.

• Writing this via Reddit PMs is my default, but I'm open to Discord or elsewhere as well. We'll begin in PMs and transition when it's time to write the fiction.

• I'd rather save the kink discussion for PMs, but a few pertinent ones are male dominance and female submission, romance and affection, orgasm overload (on the heroines' parts), loving humiliation, and of course multiple women. Some relevant limits are gore, scat, animals, switching, jealousy, feet, and any "Daddy" business. Again, there's much more to discuss in this area, which we'll do in PMs.

That's true of all of it. This is something I want to work on with a partner who's excited to tell a great story together. If you have ideas and you're ready to talk them over, send me a PM and we'll get to work. Thanks for reading!