18 Mar 2015
Seasonally Sexy: Lady Sun Has Risen and Naughty Spring Traditions
North of the equator, we’re counting down to the first day of spring. I live outside Boston, which broke an all-time record for snowfall this winter, so there isn’t much green to be seen. Even so, there are fresh shoots popping up where the snow has melted, and today I picked a daffodil near a south-facing brick wall. (Granted, I picked it because we’re expecting freezing rain soon, but that brave little yellow flower was still a promising sign!) It’s almost time to enjoy all the wonders of the vernal equinox: flowers, birdsong, sunshine, bunnies, green grass, and of course, sex with attractive strangers, and maybe a spanking or two–all in the name of religion.
What? Your springtime traditions aren’t that erotically charged? You’re bucking tradition, my friend.
A still from “Spring Equninox” by Tereza Bušková, which depicts traditional Moravian spring rituals. Find out more about her work at http://www.terezabuskova.co.uk/section615482_225584.html
Apparently spring festivals in ancient times were often wild and sexy parties. Maybe it was surviving the long winter. Maybe it was all that new life burgeoning all around, from lambs to bunnies to plants. And keep in mind that until fairly recently, late winter and early spring were lean times, when stored food was gone and the new season’s crops were just getting planted. Those dandelions we yank out of the lawn as part of our modern springtime ritual? Those were food, eagerly welcomed because they, along with lambs’-quarters and other so-called weeds, and the first new leaves on the overwintered kale, were likely the first fresh edibles in months. And they were extra delicious with the first eggs available since fall. (Did you know chickens don’t like to lay eggs when the days are short, so for much of history, eggs were a seasonal product? I didn’t either, until recently.)
When people live that close to the bone, they seize the opportunity to celebrate life, and to give thanks for the return of light, warmth, and food. In my imaginary Soranian Empire, the setting for Lady Sun Has Risen and the rest of the Seasons of Sorania Cycle, the inhabitants believe spring comes because their god and goddess are finally reunited after a long winter apart. And how better to honor that passionate reunion than to do what lovers who’ve been apart for awhile like to do? (Hint: it’s what all those bunnies and birds are also doing–which, in a more primitive world, no doubt led humans to happy thoughts of rabbit stew and pigeon pie down the road. Wild creatures might be charming, but they were also tasty.)
In the settled parts of Sorania, the spring festival has become an excuse to party and hook up with what would normally be inappropriate people–all in the guise of religion. But in the wilder places, where life is harder and humans feel closer to the gods, the old rites are taken more seriously. And the spring festival involves a bit of kink to help the goddess and the god reconcile after their separation.
As chance-met travelers Miryea and Adimir discover, sometimes the gods use these these wild rites to bring together people who are meant for each other.
“Oh, lovely. You are so sweet, little rabbit. So hot and sweet.” While she was still trembling from aftershock, Adimir helped her ease down to the grass.
“As Lady Sun offered herself so the Lord of Grain might grow once more, so does Miryea offer herself to me,” Adimir intoned, the words clearly ritualistic. “We honor Lady Sun and the Lord of Grain, and I honor Miryea, who yields and is greater for it, not lesser.”
He sat down then, leaning against a tree, and pulled her into his lap, rump in the air and face among the softly fragrant flowers of Lady’s Message.
She braced herself for a blow, but instead felt Adimir’s hand flowing along the line of her back, the curve of her cheeks, then slipping under her belly to cup her mound. “Lovely,” he said, “and still dripping. Rain to nourish the land.” He caressed, stroking at her, dipping into her overflowing sex with his fingers as he pressed against her clit with his palm, arousing her again until she felt like lava was flowing between her legs.
Then, and only, then, did he begin to spank her. To her surprise, the first few smacks weren’t even as hard as the ones he’d delivered when she was harvesting bonestrength. More firm, affectionate pats than swats, they made her already heated blood flow faster. No pain, just warmth, and the wonderful male smell of Adimir’s body blending with honey-sweet flowers, crushed young grass, and the musk of her own arousal. When she started arching her back, pushing back to invite the next swat, he began to stroke once again at her juicy sex.
The sunlight dazzled in front of her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat.
He was still caressing, when he delivered the next swat to her upraised bottom. It was a little harder, a little more stingy–but with Adimir’s hand circling her eager clit and stroking the slick, sensitized mouth of her sex, and her tender nipples brushing the soft new grass, the stinging transformed itself into yet another source of stimulation.
“More,” she gasped, amazing herself, and when he complied, “Oh, please, more!”
A flurry of lightly stinging blows set both her asscheeks and her pussy on her fire. All the colors of the spring glade seemed brighter, unnaturally vivid, and she could hear her blood rushing in her veins, and she was poised on the edge of coming, but Adimir was skillfully holding on that edge, making the delicious tension build more and more, but not letting her fall.
“Please,” she sobbed as the bright morning washed red with her desire. “Please.” She wasn’t sure if she meant “Please fuck me,” or “Please spank me some more,” or “Please let me come,” or simply, “Please don’t stop,” but it didn’t really matter. His hand, his cock, whatever he wanted to give her–it was all fine.