The full moon had not yet risen as the girl trudged along the rough path that traversed the top of the long ridge up the Tor. Even so, there was sufficient light for her to see the ruined tower of St Michael’s Church on the summit, silhouetted against the darkening sky. She looked down at the baby clasped in her arms, barely three months old, and wrapped the shawl tighter around it. This Midsummer Eve the weather was warm and clear, but there was moisture in the air and she did not want it to catch a chill.

Many feet had trodden the path before her, but it was still uneven and irregular, and it was with relief that the girl reached the summit. An uneven expanse of short turf led to the base of the tower, rough layers of stonework still outlining where the rest of the church had once stood. The girl walked around the side of the tall structure, then sat down on the grass at the edge of the slope to rest. The baby screwed up its tiny eyes and began to keen gently.

The girl unlaced the front of her shift to expose her bare breast, and her child began to suckle contentedly. A feeling of deep sorrow engulfed her. Her attachment to her child was deep and intense, and a tear came to her eye as she remembered that this was the last time she would feel its mouth at her nipple.

But the glowing sphere of the moon was now fully above the horizon, casting a pale luminescence over the fields and hedgerows, picking out the golden stone of Wells Cathedral nestling in the distance, under the Mendip Hills. The time had come, and the girl gently laid the baby on the ground, wrapped in the plain shawl that she herself had sewn for it. Fed and satisfied, it cooed happily, waving its plump little arms in the warm air.

The girl felt a cool wind gust across the top of the Tor, and she shivered. She picked up the baby, hugged it one more time, then replaced it on the ground. Around the edge of the summit, the grass seemed to wave and tremble. The girl stepped back, turned, and began to walk briskly away, back down the rough path. She turned once to see the tiny bundle lying on the ground, then hastened as quickly as she could down the hill, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t look back a second time.

Twelve Months Earlier

No more than once in a generation did the full moon rise on Midsummer Eve itself, already the most magical night of the year. But the legend was explicit, and the people of the town knew better than to forget or ignore it. The well-being of their community required them to remain on good terms with the spirits that inhabited the woods and hedgerows around Glastonbury, and many were the small rituals and habits that were second nature to those who lived under the shadow of the Tor. But this special night demanded a special ritual.

Everyone knew what it was. A virgin female, between the ages of sixteen and twenty, was to be taken to the top of the Tor on Midsummer Eve. Naked, she was to await the rising of the midsummer full moon, when the king of the guardian spirits would come and impregnate her with his seed. Twelve months later, on the next Midsummer Eve, the child of this union was to be taken to the spot where it was conceived and left for the spirits to take for their own. This offering would ensure continuing protection for the town and its people.

It sounded harsh, but most versions of legend implied that the child would be well-treated by the spirits, and the girl who gave up both her virginity and her infant was similarly blessed. The charts of the wise ones made it easy to predict in advance when this special event would take place, and girls who were born within the appropriate time period took care to preserve their virginity during the preceding years. To be the chosen maiden was a rare and treasured honour.

By tradition, the names of all girls whose birth records showed themselves to be eligible were placed in a basket of Somerset willow and a name publicly drawn at random under the market cross the week before Midsummer Eve. This year, the name drawn was that of Susannah Underhill, whose family had farmed in the area for as long as anyone could remember. This was agreed to be an excellent omen, as was the fact that Susannah was an attractive girl, with long golden hair and fine skin, but strong and healthy as well.

***

The sun was already low in the sky on Midsummer Eve when the townsfolk gathered in the market place for the rite to begin. Susannah was brought from her family’s home wearing just a simple woollen shift, and she sat at the foot of the market cross while her hair was braided with wild-flowers by the younger children. A procession then led her through the town, past the empty Abbey and across the fields to the ancient well at the foot of the Tor.

Here, final words were spoken before Susannah and three of the other maidens began the steady ascent up the old pathway to the summit. Once at the top, her attendants removed her shift, leaving her completely naked. They then embraced their friend, before retracing their steps back to the town. The rest of the rite was to be experienced by the chosen girl alone.

Susannah shivered slightly as she felt the night air on her naked body. Her legs and arms were burnished brown from the sun, in contrast to the paler skin of her little breasts, her tummy, and her private parts below. The ruined tower behind her seemed as naked and vulnerable as she was, offering little comfort or protection. She turned her back on it and sat on the grass looking out over the peaceful landscape below.

The evening mist rose from the fields, and slowly filled the valley, like water filling a tub. Before long, only the tops of the trees could be seen emerging from the swirling clouds. It was as if the seas had inundated the whole world, leaving the Tor as the sole refuge. Susanna knew that there were higher hills in the distance, but their outlines were quickly lost to sight as the dusk fell.

Soon, she watched as the full moon started to emerge from behind the hills, its light bathing her naked body with a luminous glow. As its light finally washed over the whole of the tower, a cool wind swept briefly across the top of the Tor, causing goose-bumps to form on Susannah’s bare skin. As she stared at the point where the ground sloped sharply down, she saw the grasses stirring in a strange unnatural way. They seemed to whirl and expand, forming strange spirals that rose upwards. As they swirled higher, shimmering in the moonlight, the air itself seemed to solidify, forming shapes that span and flickered in front of her eyes. Susanna felt her head start to swirl in time with the grass. It was beginning.

As she watched, the insubstantial forms seemed to solidify in front of her eyes, like hoar-frost forming on leaves. She found herself looking at four separate ethereal forms, each one developing a head; four limbs; a torso. And suddenly they were there, a silent quartet of sprites, their curvaceous figures, firm-moulded breasts and plump pubic areas identifying them as manifestly female; almost human in form, and pale green in colour, like fresh spikes of grass, but somehow not quite solid.

Susannah felt that if she reached out to touch one, her hand might go straight through. Silently they stared at her, hanging effortlessly in the air, just above the ground. Susanna had always assumed the faerie folk to have wings, but these seemed not to need such artificial aids.

And without warning, Susanna found her head filled with the intermingling echo of their voices, although no sound came from their mouths. 

“She’s here.”

“So pretty.”

“So soft, so innocent.”

“Look at her little breasts.”

Suddenly she felt embarrassed, and pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her nakedness.

The air seemed to fill with a tinkling, as of tiny bells. The sprites were laughing.

“Oh no, don’t hide yourself, my sweet.”

“We want to see.”

“Your budding breasts… your moist private places.”

“Don’t be shy.”

Then they were all around her, their slender fingers gently grasping her limbs. Everywhere they touched her, she felt her skin and flesh tingle and come alive, like a tickling but going deeper, filling her with a pleasurable sensation like nothing she’d ever felt before. She didn’t resist as they took hold of her arms, pulling them away from her chest to expose her small bare breasts. Then two of them held a leg each and spread them wide apart.

Susannah began to blush as the private parts between her thighs were so openly displayed, but she was also curiously excited and began to enjoy the attention of the sprites. She sat back with her hands on the ground, her legs laid flat, and let them look at her breasts and the dark patch of hair between her legs.

These seemed to please them, and they flitted round her exposed body.

“Look at her.”

“So perfect.”

“So innocent, so sweet.”

“Oh my, her breasts are so small…”

“Smaller than ours.”

“Yes, ours are bigger.”

That tinkling in the air again, and the sprites’ own bare breasts bounced and shook.

Then one of the sprites reached out and touched the little mound of Susanna’s right breast. The fingers gently stroked over her nipple, which instantly hardened like the ripening bud of a hedgerow rose. The tingle of pleasure was so intense that Susanna let out a little cry. She could see the skin around her nipple dimpled and aroused. The bud itself had never been so hard, not even when she played with it herself at night.

“She likes it, likes it.”

“Of course she does, who would not?”

“But will she do for him?”

“Oh yes, she will do.”

“She will.”

“She will. Her strong young body will please him greatly.”

Susanna felt herself blushing as the sprites whirled around her, discussing such personal matters. But then they became yet more personal.

“But is she intact?”

“She must be intact, oh yes.”

“One of us must look.”

“I will.”

One of the sprites floated down in front of her, and took hold of her thighs, sending a wave of energy rippling towards the place between her legs. She trembled as the sprite gently eased her thighs even wider apart, totally exposing her private parts. Then the slender fingers delicately touched her outer folds, spreading them open to expose the glistening pink flesh and the little dark hole at the centre. Susanna bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out, so intense was the pleasure that she was feeling. 

“Yes, she’s intact. No man has had her.”

“Let us see, let us see.”

The sprites gathered round and gazed at the thin pink membrane that proved Susanna’s maidenhead was still preserved. 

“She is intact. She is ready. Shall we call him?”

“Not yet. We can do one more thing. Her pleasure will be greater still if she is fully prepared.”

“Oh yes, we should, we should.”

Susanna found herself surrounded by the sprites again. The one who had examined her maidenhead so intimately now put its face between her legs and began to lick at her delicate folds. Never before had anyone put their tongue down there, and the sensation was more wonderful than anything she had experienced before. Two others began to caress and lick her little breasts, while the fourth kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

Once again, Susanna began to experience an intense arousal and sensitivity through her whole body. Her nipples were hard as acorns as the sprites sucked and licked them, while her lips were throbbing as she kissed with a passion and excitement she had never felt before. And as for the place between her legs, that was tingling and fizzing with thrilling pleasure and a craving for release that she couldn’t quite understand.

Wanting to give as well as take, she reached up and touched the bare breasts of the sprite who was kissing her. The skin was smooth and warm, more substantial than she had imagined, and the nipples stood up like hers as she began to play with them. Her fingers left little trails of light on the skin, and tiny sparkling flecks of light seemed to form around the hard buds as she tweaked and pulled them. She could feel in her head that this was giving the sprite pleasure, and it thrust its tongue further into her mouth.

“I want her. I want her to taste me, to drink my juices.”

“You shouldn’t, he might not like it. He likes our juices for himself.”

“I don’t care, I want to feel her tongue in me.”

The rebellious sprite who had been kissing her, and whose breasts she had fondled, rose up and spread its thighs around Susannah’s head, and the girl found herself staring at the smoothest, plumpest mound she had ever seen. While her own was covered in a neat triangle of soft downy growth, this one was smooth and hairless. At first, the lips were hidden, but as she watched they seemed to unfurl like a flower-bud in the sunlight, exposing the glistening interior. Reaching up, Susannah boldly grasped the thighs and pulled the mound down against her mouth. She slipped her tongue between the soft lips and into the tight hole, before beginning to lick around inside.

The sprite’s internal juices sparkled and bubbled up like a spring, flowed out past Susannah’s lips and across her tongue, and she eagerly allowed them to fill her mouth and slide down her throat. The taste was almost painfully sweet, like the sugary nectar she and the other girls used to suck from nettle-flowers during the spring, but even more intense. She felt as if it would nourish her so completely that she would need no other food or drink.

Between her own legs, the tongue of the other sprite reached deeper inside her as it licked, careful not to damage her maidenhead. Then Susannah cried out as it turned its attention to the sensitive little bud hidden away at the top of her slit. The sensation was unlike anything she had felt before, and she felt her body fill with an intense fiery heat that almost made her stop breathing. She lost control completely, and felt a splash of her own juices spurt out of her hole and over the inside of her thigh.

 As she gasped and shook, trying to control the sensations in her body, she felt a sudden emptiness and disappointment as the sprites stopped their licking and kissing. But it soon became clear why.

“She’s ready now.”

“So wet, so open.”

“Now she can take him.”

“Now she is ready.”

“He’s coming. I feel his presence.”

Susanna trembled with anticipation. She could see a pale glow below the edge of the hilltop, as if something was coming up the steep slope. Her heart thumped, and for the first time that evening she actually felt afraid. As the figure approached, the sprites drew back respectfully. Susanna could sense their mingled feelings of fear and love; of respect and worship.

And then he was there before her, his whole body seeming to glow in the moonlight, as unashamedly naked as his attendant sprites. He was tall and slender, with long fair hair that swirled around his shoulders, and a diadem around his head that shone in the moonlight. His face was stern, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that made her want to give herself to him completely.

Most notably, Susanna was transfixed by the sight of his erect member, which rose vertically from his hairless crotch, much longer than those of the boys she and her friends had giggled at, and thicker too. The smooth head, curved and bulging like a mushroom, looked much too large to fit inside her tight hole.

But in her head, she sensed his soothing words.

“Fear not, child, I bring pleasure, not pain, to those who willingly submit themselves to me.”

Susannah lay back on the soft grass, and spread her firm muscular thighs, offering herself to him. He lowered himself on top of her, his hands tenderly caressing her body, and she felt his hard member rest against her nakedness as he put his open mouth against hers and kissed her, filling her with a wave of pure joy. She felt the tip of his member against her private place, then she opened to admit him. He entered her, his progress momentarily halted by the membrane of her maidenhead, but then it willingly gave way with a sharp stab of pain and a spurt of liquid that she knew was her blood, before he eased fully inside her.

His erect member filled her to perfection, stretching her just sufficiently to give her the maximum pleasure as the shaft rubbed against the insides of her tingling sheath. She moaned with pleasure and clasped him in her arms as he began to thrust in and out. She pushed back against him, wanting to share actively in their love-making, instinctively tightening her muscles around his shaft.

Her whole body seemed alive, every part of it glowing and responsive. The downy hairs on her arms were standing up and seeming to give off a light all of their own. For a moment his body seemed to become one with hers, and she wondered if this was how it would end, with her body swallowed up by his.

But instead she heard a low groan deep within his throat, and he gave three final, deep thrusts before filling her with his seed. She could actually feel the liquid spreading inside her, thick and warm and wet. At last, she watched as he withdrew and stood, his member still erect, but coated now with a glistening mixture of her juices and his own seed. A final rope of creamy white fluid hung from his tip before dropping onto the grass.

“You have done well, child,” his words echoed in her head. “The babe will be fit and well, and your birthing will go smoothly. At the third full moon after its birth, bring it here. Then your task will be done.” 

Susanna nodded. She knew what the ritual demanded, and sensed that giving up her child would be hard, but it would not be wise to attempt to cheat the spirits. Legends spoke darkly of a previous girl who had attempted to leave another, unwanted child in place of her own, and how both she and the child had been torn limb from limb that very night, their bloody, mangled body parts scattered around the town. That part of the legend may have been exaggerated for effect, to scare the children who whispered it at night, but Susanna had no desire to test its veracity.

She reached out to touch him one last time, but he turned and was gone, his work done. The four sprites were gone too, back to the hidden world from which they had emerged. Susannah was alone and naked on the top of the Tor, but full now of a special seed that would grow within her during the next nine months.

Strangely, her body was still tingling, her breasts and nipples still wonderfully sensitive to the touch. She put her hand between her legs, feeling where his member had recently been. As her fingers brushed over her little hidden bud, she felt that new, special arousal that had been awakened in her. Suddenly, she understood the one element of the legend that had always puzzled her, which spoke elliptically of some special sexual power attached to the girls who had undergone the ritual. She knew she was going to treat herself to a lot more sexual experiences, and that she was going to enjoy them all very much. Her tingling body, aching to be touched and awakened, would see to that.

Smiling to herself, she picked up her shift from where her friends had left it, neatly folded under the walls of the tower, and put it on, covering her nakedness again. Then she walked back down the hill, returning to the normal, everyday world.

That world hadn’t changed, but she had. And she knew that her life would never be the same again.