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Shallan was finding it harder to do her job as Jasnah's bathing attendant than she had anticipated. Not the actual work of it; brushing Jasnah's hair, fetching her soaps and oils was easy enough. But seeing Jasnah in such a state of undress... Shallan felt herself flush, the tips of her ears red.
Jasnah finished her glass of wine and handed it to Shallan without a word. She took it, her breath stuttering at the touch of Jasnah's hand against hers. Such a simple movement, a fleeting touch, but Shallan felt her blush travel down her ears to her face and neck. They spent all day together, where Jasnah was contained and composed. But seeing her body's lax sprawl, her unblemished skin stretching from her elegant neck to her generous breasts—Shallan felt her body coming alive in unprecedented ways.
Placing the wineglass down, Shallan turned back to her mentor and felt her heart beat out of her chest. Jasnah had begun scrubbing her legs, lifting one high to rest on the ledge by her face. And between her legs—that secret private place, where on Shallan's body was rapidly dampening—a thatch of black hair. Wild and untamed, hiding all but the suggestion of her lower lips and pearl.
Suddenly, Shallan was desperate to see it. To seize the cloth Jasnah used to clean herself, and swipe it between her legs, all for an excuse to touch her there. It was a reckless impulse, and one Shallan forced herself to suppress no matter how sweet the burn between her thighs felt. She had no experience with sex and was unaccustomed to touching even herself, never mind an older, experienced woman who would have no time and patience for a student's fumbling, even if she tutored in all other subjects with wicked competence.
Her breath came quickly now, and Shallan resumed her place behind Jasnah's head to hide her reactions. And she had plenty of those, the rest of Jasnah's bath passing by in a blaze of heat.
"I will see you early again on the morrow, Shallan," Jasnah said, climbing out of the bath. Her buttocks swayed with her confident stride to collect a towel. "While your nights are yours to do with what you please, I recommend a punctual slumber."
"Yes, brightness," Shallan said, mourning the disappearance of Jasnah's body beneath a towel.
Jasnah left, and as if possessed, Shallan's hand pressed itself between her legs, cupping her sex over her havah and grinding with her palm. It was highly indecent, but her stomach clenched at the wicked pleasure.
No, I can't, Shallan thought, and stilled her hand. Good Vorin women take pleasure only in the marriage bed. Biting her lip, Shallan removed her hand and looked about the room; Jasnah's bathwater still steamed in the tub.
Well, Jasnah had told her to be in bed quickly. Re-using bathwater was an efficient way to accomplish that. Taking her clothes off in a flash, Shallan slid beneath the water and took up the soap and washcloth Jasnah had used.
It took longer to wash her breasts than usual, the cloth rubbing over her hard nipples a necessary pleasure. Keeping oneself clean was not heretical. It was simply—hygienic. The cloth slipped lower, over her stomach. Lower, down her legs. Higher, to the sensitive insides of her thighs. Shallan's head fell back as a small moan slipped past her lips. The same washcloth that had spread Jasnah's legs spread hers, pressing the same water that had covered Jasnah's body against her own.
Shallan's body was consumed by a fire no water could quench. Her other hand trembled as she brought it, too, beneath the water. Between her legs she found her clitoris, a place the Almighty had made sensitive so a woman might relax during the marriage act when her husband breached her—or so her stepmother had deigned to explain once.
Her hand dipped lower, one finger slipping inside. It was an odd sensation, to feel inside her body and feel herself fluttering and clenching around a foreign intrusion. She shouldn't be doing this; Jasnah could return at any moment for a forgotten hairpin, a perfume vial, perhaps one of her cosmetics.
Shallan panted unsteadily and pressed her finger in further. The thumb of her other hand circled her clit, and she moaned, imagining it was not her own hand, but Jasnah's. Jasnah, the heretic, who broke Vorinism's taboos as she pleased, based on her own code of ethics. And with no god to forbid it, why not pleasure yourself at every opportunity? Why not let the sweet burn of sexual pleasure overtake you in the bath?
Distantly, Shallan noticed her next moan was both rather loud and in the shape of Jasnah's name, but she didn't care; instead, she slowly drew her finger out so that she might push it in again.
The door opened.
"Yes, Shallan? What is it you—?"
Jasnah stopped her sentence halfway through, taking in what Shallan was doing.
Shallan gasped and froze, flushing redder than she had been. "I—brightness, I—"
The words would not come. The pleasure remained, her private places on display before the object of their affections, delighting in the sensation of being seen—it obstructed all rational thought.
"I'm sorry, brightness, I shouldn't have—"
"Shallan," Jasnah said. "Child, when have I taught you to end your endeavors merely because of interference from others? You have chosen your path—see it through."
Jasnah crossed her arms under her breasts, as she always did when projecting confidence and the expectation of obedience; but clad only in her shift, the dampness lingering from her bath pulling clinging fabric tight to her body—Shallan circled her clit again, submitting to Jasnah's orders. Her attention was grabbed too strongly by the outline of nipples pressed against thin cotton to protest.
Again, Shallan remembered Jasnah's rejection of the church, the prohibition against masturbation that Jasnah had no reason to follow. Perhaps the ardentia had been right, she thought, that Jasnah would seduce any ward of hers away from the tenets of Vorinism. But with ecstasy in her veins and her mentor's gorgeous body before her, Shallan couldn't find it in herself to care.
"Is your education lacking in yet another area?" Jasnah cut through her thoughts. "Or have I merely uncovered the one circumstance in which you are shy? I told you to touch yourself, Shallan, and I expect to be obeyed."
The last coherent thought in Shallan's brain escaped as a piteous whimper. She wanted to obey Jasnah, to be good. But what was touching herself if not this?
Jasnah sighed and removed her shift, baring herself again and slipping into the tub. "I promised to tutor you," she said, half to herself. "Remove your fingers and pay attention."
"Y—yes, brightness," Shallan stuttered. "I—Thank you."
"Hmm."
Jasnah settled her body between Shallan's legs and shoved one knee with her hand, the other inserting two fingers rather than just one. "The best angle of insertion varies from woman to woman, but a wider spread almost always eases the passage." Her fingers stayed in place while her thumb swiped up and down, finding the head of her pearl beneath its shell. "You should take care to locate the head of the clitoris as swiftly as possible. It contains more nerves than elsewhere, and its manipulation is the swiftest passage to an orgasm."
The inflection of Jasnah's lecture was exactly that of any other she had given, and Shallan felt her body relaxing into her hands.
"But the clitoris is larger than that. It extends—beneath the skin and down." Jasnah began moving the fingers buried inside Shallan, swiping along the inner walls. "In here. Do you feel it?"
Did she feel it. As if "feel" was a strong enough word to encompass the torrent of novel sensations radiating between her legs. "Yes," Shallan gasped, sinking into the zinging lightning, loosening the muscles in her legs and letting them shake as they would.
Jasnah stayed tall before her, an unquestionable pillar of stability. The movements of her fingers and hands reverberated up her arms, setting her breasts swaying. As the movements of her hands sped up, so too did the swinging.
The pleasure built, leaving Shallan panting and needing to do something with her hands. They were clenching on nothing at the present moment, and Jasnah's breasts were so hypnotizing. Shallan cupped them reverently, pressing together a perfect pillow of cleavage.
Jasnah's fingers split inside her, pressing hard against her walls as they thrust in and out.
"Ah! Oh, Jasnah, please—" Shallan tensed, her body lurching towards Jasnah's. She felt a pang of loss for losing her purchase on Jasnah's body, but she did not have long to mourn.
"Breathe, child," Jasnah said. "You do not wish to pass out."
No, she didn't. Shallan whined and obeyed, taking heaving gasps, her focus dimmed to only her breathing and her pleasure. If she passed out, she would lose the pleasure.
"Good girl, there you go. You're close, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Then let go; come for me, Shallan."
The lightning she had felt earlier was nothing compared to the pure bolt of sensation that now took her. The sound she made was neither moan nor scream, but some emission of pure lust. Warmth flooded from her core outwards—to her clenching toes, her twitching fingers, her over-flushed face.
"Jasnah, Jasnah," Shallan begged. Her fingers had never stopped, only continued in their pursuit of what was already achieved.
"Relax, Shallan, let yourself feel it."
Permission given, Shallan did, shuddering through the ebbs and flows of her orgasm for longer than she ever could have dreamed. She kept her eyes open, even though she wanted to close them, because closing them meant losing sight of Jasnah.
Finally, it ended, and Jasnah's fingers retreated. Shallan's breathing slowed as she came back to her body.
"Now, I trust you have learned your lesson, yes? Do be sure to take care of yourself. As I said, I will be seeing you early tomorrow."
Jasnah exited the tub for a second time, selecting another towel and leaving the room. Shallan stared at the door as it shut, gobsmacked. Learned her lesson? What lesson? Or, more accurately, which? That of anatomy, she was grateful for and had absolutely learned well. That of what to do with her sexual interest in Jasnah herself, she had gained no clarity on. Was she meant to approach Jasnah again, or merely summon the memory of her while finding her own hands inadequate, after knowing what else was possible?
Not that the second would be too much of a hardship. Shallan had enough imagination to tide herself over for a long time. In fact, she thought she had enough time to begin said testing now, and stretched her hand down between her legs yet again.