In the Temple of Gar the Desecrator

The reader should note that I am, at this point, not simply waxing lyrical for reasons of dramaturgy, or even lewdness. I merely attempt to convey the effect she had on me. I was mesmerized by her beauty in a way that I had never experienced before. Upon seeing her in all her glory I forgot for a moment, incredible as it may seem, the surroundings I found myself in and even the perils by which I was beset.

The guards retreated to join the other robed and cloaked figures that stood behind the altar upon which I was bound by forces invisible. This caused me to wonder: were these others also female?

My question was answered almost immediately when the High Priestess clapped her hands once, and one of the figures strode forward, bearing a small bowl apparently made from the same dark stone as was the slab on which I had been placed. Handing this bowl to the High Priestess, the newcomer removed her hood and I could see she was but a girl, much younger than the high priestess. A novice perhaps?

Novice or no, she unfastened her cloak and let it drop to the floor as the High Priestess had done, revealing herself in full. While not as bewitchingly lush and beautiful as the High Priestess herself, this girl was a tantalizing beauty in her own right. The lines of her face were similarly exotic and of indeterminate origin. She, too, was entirely hairless and perfectly smooth from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, including her sex. Her young body was supple and slender, yet beautifully curved, but her skin was strangely pale, its hue not unlike that of the most delicate fine bone China before it is glazed. Her waist was slender, her stomach flat, her legs long and smooth as white marble. Her young breasts were high and firm, yet fully developed and crowned with a pair of pink teats ready for a babe to suckle.

In retrospect, compiling this account, I fully realize how strange these events really were. And little did I know how much stranger (and horrible) they were about to become! But, then and there, all sense of apprehension seemed to have suddenly left me, and even my outraged sense of propriety had been stilled. Was this in any way similar to the enchantments that mermaids are said to cast upon unwary sailors, or succubi upon their victims?

I cannot say, not even now. As a man of science I had always dismissed these tales of female apparitions who lure a man to a watery grave, or doom his soul to the eternal torments of Hell. What I experienced in that hour, though, I can only assume to be a similar bewitchment. Inappropriate and even unthinkable as it was, the beauty and sensuality of these women had beguiled me to a degree that I had hitherto considered impossible. My concern and outrage had somehow been replaced with fascination and, to be entirely frank and truthful, an attraction verging on desire.

The High Priestess returned the bowl to the novice and, facing the demonic statue across the fire pit, raised her arms. She then began what I assumed to be some form of incantation, spoken in a strange, harshly guttural language, a language I had never heard before and hope never to hear again. She intoned at some length before she concluded with, as close as I can remember, "K'lath grash og Gar kratapth thrat t'or ritshak, K'lath grash og Gar!"

The group standing behind me repeated her final words: "K'lath grash og Gar! K'lath grash og Gar! K'lath grash og Gar!" As I had suspected, the voices were all female.

Finally the High Priestess finished by saying, apparently for my benefit: "Behold our offering to thee, mighty Gar!" Then she turned to the novice and nodded.

The girl dipped her fingers delicately in the bowl and proceeded to anoint my nethers with its contents, which appeared to be an oil of sorts. While I was entirely powerless to resist, bound to the altar as I was, I am not sure that I would have resisted if I would have been free to move, so much was I under the spell of these women. All sense of dignity and propriety had somehow departed me, and now desire held me firmly in its grip.

The first touch of her fingertips sent a shivering through me, and I felt as if electrified. An almost palpable pleasure flowed through me. Her touch, delicate yet confident, bespoke skill and experience and I felt my rod awaken under her ministrations. She caressed it, stroked it, and within moments it swelled and raised itself up in response to her attentions.

She put the bowl down and, using both her hands, proceeded to play me like a musical instrument. Somehow she knew exactly where to touch me and how, and an intense pleasure infused me. My manhood having become hard and rigid under her delicate hands, I felt my pleasure soar to heights the existence of which I had hitherto never known.

While decency forbids us to freely discuss it socially, it is common knowledge among the sophisticated that men and women often indulge in certain amounts of discrete mischief. Since the matter of this narrative requires it at this point, I must confess to my own participation in this. Having known a number of liberal women intimately throughout the course of my life I was, and am, no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh and to the various means by which to induce them. I recall many a delightful afternoon, evening or night spent in intimate congress with women of various backgrounds, some possessing advanced skills and experience in these matters, others eager to learn.

Yet I had never before experienced the levels of delight that this girl's touch gave me. In hindsight it is obvious that it cannot have been her mere touch that caused my pleasure to soar to these great heights so quickly. I can only assume that the oil that applied to my privates had something to do with this, or perhaps there was some other effect at work here, something more akin to dark magic or bewitchment. At other times I would have been loathe to consider the latter but, as I write this, I am fully prepared to admit the possibility, especially in light of the even less likely events that were yet to take place.

Be that as it may, her ministrations filled me with pleasure more intense and all-encompassing than I had ever known. Her fingertips played across my privates, causing small jolts of sheer delight to shoot through me from any point at whch she touched me. Her skillful hands stroked my erect member, which felt harder than it ever had been, paying special attention to that most sensitive region at its terminus, causing it to swell up like a balloon being prepared for a transatlantic voyage. Never before had the tip of my rod been this engorged, this bulbous, and soon a great, wonderful tension began to build within it. Those magic fingertips caressed its ridge, causing me to squirm and shiver with delight. I felt myself rapidly approach that precipitous edge from where there is no returning, and I knew it would not be long before the pleasure I felt would erupt in its inevitable climax.

This process was further hastened when I lifted my head (the only part of my body that I could move freely) to regard her. Her eyes were fixed on my manhood, around which she had wrapped the slender fingers of one hand, using the other to caress its bulbous tip. The look on her face was a complex mingling of concentration, longing and determination, as if she was determined to focus on the task with which she had been charged but at the same time wished to see to her own pleasures and fully intended to do so. Her young breasts had swelled slightly, mute testimony to the arousal of her longings, and the pink tips stood out clearly and proudly, providing more evidence of her own needs.

Seeing her like that almost proved my undoing, but not quite, for another strange phenomenon became noticeable at that point. Unnaturally quickly as my pleasure had arisen, it now remained constrained within its ultimate bounds. Try as she might, nothing she did allowed me the release that I expected to experience at any moment now. Her caresses continued to stimulate me and intensify my pleasure, but something prevented me from crossing that limit beyond which it could no longer be contained. Gradually the pleasure became a delicious torture, and I could not stifle various moans, both in delight and in frustration, as this occurred.

Suddenly a mad lust seized me. The touch of this girl's fingers on my engorged manhood was no longer enough. I had to have her, all of her. Her eyes met mine and a faint smile formed on her lips, as if she had read my thoughts, and there was promise in her glance. But there was something else there as well, something akin to hunger and raw need, and dimly my lust-stricken mind realized that there was far more to her than met the eye. Like the High Priestess herself she had something about her that suggested age, not only beyond her appearance but also far beyond the natural human span. At any rate, a girl as young as she seemed to be could hardly have amassed the skills with which she attended to me, nor was she likely to have the vast experience of which her sure movements and deftly precise manipulations so clearly spoke.

Soon, though, these ruminations vanished from my mind, being drowned as they were by the feelings of lust and the physical pleasure that dominated me. My choice of the word is deliberate, for dominated I was. I could think of nothing else but of the pleasure that her skilled hands induced in me, her fingertips delicately caressing the most sensitive spots on my manhood, her stroking hands lubricated by the oil that she had applied, and no musical instrument has ever been played with more skill, nor brought forth a more enjoyable composition, than the tip of my rod under her touch. She stroked, she caressed, she tapped, she traced, she rubbed, and as one of her fingers made love to me here, the touch of another conjured up the most wonderful feelings there, and every wave of pleasure was counterpoint to another one.

I felt light-headed. The magnitude, intensity and duration of the all-encompassing pleasure conspired to inhibit even the most elementary rational thought in me. I knew nothing but pleasure, which continued to build until the wonderful pressure was almost too much to bear and I felt I would explode with the force of it. Yet, somehow, I was not granted the release that during previous intimate encounters I would have experienced long before. How was this possible? I neither knew nor cared. All I knew was pleasure: an all-encompassing, intense, nigh unbearable pleasure that persisted far beyond what I had previously believed to be possible.

For how much longer this state of affairs continued I could not say. Eventually dark spots began to appear at the edge of my vision, and my breathing, which had been heavy all the while, grew even more labored, until I dimly realized that I was about to loose consciousness from the sheer intensity of the pleasurable sensations.

The face of the High Priestess appeared before me. She must have leaned over me, for she looked closely into my eyes, as if to gauge my condition. Before she disappeared from my field of vision I saw her turn, apparently to face the demonic statue, and raise her arms. Then I heard her voice ring out in another incantation. I do not remember what words she used, only that they sounded as harsh and guttural as the first time.

At this point the group that ringed the back of the altar took up a strange chant. While the words sounded similar to the language used by the High Priestesses during her incantation, this chant was of a different nature, being more languid and seductive in character, yet it carried a distinct overtone of encouragement.

Perhaps I responded to this chanting, perhaps not. Whatever the case may be, my lust soared, increasing yet by several orders of magnitude. I would not have considered it possible, but that is what occurred. Also, whatever restriction had been placed upon me appeared to have been lifted, and I knew that the release I had craved so badly for so long was now upon me.

My ecstasy reached its pinnacle, and I felt as if my manhood was struck by lightning, but it was a lightning bolt of pure pleasure. It exploded within me in a bright flash, discharging the pressure that had collected inside of me and causing it to erupt from my entire nether region. My rod felt electrified, as if the tip of it were aglow with Saint Elmo's fire like the mast of a ship in a brewing thunderstorm.

I screamed. I could not help it, so great was the force of my release. The pleasure burned within me, searing my manhood with an indescribable ecstasy that I had never before known. The normal progress of time seemed to have halted as the moment continued to a seemingly infinite duration, and all I knew was the most intense pleasure I had ever known. I was, in a manner, frozen in time.

At long last I felt my body shake and my seed burst forth in a mighty eruption with an unprecedented force and in a quantity that I had never before produced. Even as a young man I had never experienced such an flood, and my seed continued to spew, forcefully and copiously, as the girl's hands held me, stroked me, encouraged my continued release. She succeeded, by what unearthly skill I will most likely never know, while the fires of lust, need and final gratification continued to consume me, and they lasted longer than ever before.

It was not before I opened my eyes that I realized I must have lost consciousness. Gradually I became aware of my surroundings and of the situation in which I found myself. My lust had abated and for the first time in-- how long?-- I was able to think somewhat rationally again.

I was exhausted. Also my limbs felt strangely stiff, no doubt due to the unusual exertions my body had so recently suffered and the unnatural position in which I was being held immobile. It was then that realized with a shock that the screams and cries we had heard while we were in our cell had not been screams of pain! Having cried out in my own release, it was clear to me now what my companions had been subjected to. As we had heard their voices multiple times, it was also evident that what had been done to me so far was not the end of it, but merely the beginning.

This left me rather conflicted. I was downright shocked, nay appalled, at how easily I had succumbed to this manipulation, and at how the pleasure this induced within me had enslaved me. But at the same time it would be disingenuous to deny the fact I craved more. I suppose this is what the wretched opium smoker endures as a matter of course: the desire to visit the opium den again and again on the one hand, and the desire to be free of opium's ruinous effects on the other.

For there was no doubt in my mind that, were this treatment to continue, its effects would be ruinous indeed. Had I not been reduced by this pleasure in the same way the opium smoker is degraded by the euphoria of the poppy? Had not the lust overridden my rational thought and judgment in a manner similar to that in which opium stupefies its devotees?

I felt comfortable, though, in the knowledge that my lust was surely sated now and that, at any rate, my rod would be unable to rise to the occasion for quite a while. This alone should serve to protect me from further enslavement to the pleasure which I still craved.

But it appeared that I was wrong in this. The girl who had so skillfully applied her hands to pleasure me appeared in my view again, this time bearing a basin and a cloth. One of the cloaked figures that still stood behind the altar stepped forward to hold the basin while the former dipped the cloth into it, wrung it, and proceeded to wipe my face with it. The cool, wet cloth felt good against my heated face which, just like the rest of my body, had been covered with perspiration as a result of my recent exertions. Another cloaked figure appeared, this one bearing a cup and, supporting my head while I raised it, gave me to drink, albeit sparingly, because in my prone position a few small sips were all that I could manage.

Much to my amazement, and even more to my dismay, one or both of these liquids had a remarkable effect on me. My feelings of exhaustion melted away like snow before the sun, and I felt a stirring in my nether regions that clearly indicated my manhood's readiness to experience more of the treatment it had but so recently enjoyed. This caused me great consternation, for I understood full well the dangers that this enslaving pleasure presented, and what it would reduce me to if I were to give in to more of it.

I tried to lift myself off the altar, but the invisible forced held and I remained firmly bound to its surface. But in doing so I noticed something exceedingly odd. The demonic statue across the fire pit seemed to have changed slightly. It was partially obscured by the green smoke that still rose from the pit, but the statue's posture appeared to be subtly different from what it was when I had entered the hall. I did not understand how this could be, and finally I decided that my earlier recollection of the statue's position must have been wrong.

At that moment the cloaked figure returned, this time without the basin, to stand at the foot of the altar. In the same manner as that of her predecessor she removed her hood and dropped her cloak. She appeared to be as young as the girl who had stood there before her and her general appearance was the same, in that the lines of her face were of a similar nature and indeterminate origin, and her body was also entirely hairless. Was this a racial trait, or the result of some treatment? This question disappeared from my mind as soon as it arose, for the effect she had upon me had begun to assert itself and my attention was now drawn to her more salient features.

Her body, like that of her predecessor, was supple and slender, but her skin was darker, almost like that of a Mulatto, and her breasts were larger and fuller, yet high, round and firm. The nipples that adorned those delectable orbs were darker, too, appearing hard and swollen from the moment she had removed her cloak, which led me to believe it was not the hall's cool air that had caused them to become this firm and engorged. When she turned, a stray ray of light caused a small glistening from her young, smooth sex, and I noticed that her nether lips had begun to flower open, as in response to a lover's attentions.

Taking the bowl which her predecessor had used to such great effect, she began to apply its oily contents to my privates once again. I objected weakly but was ignored, and within moments my protestations ceased as the amazing sensations took over once more, drowning my critical faculties entirely. Her hands were as skilled as the other girl's had been, perhaps even more so, and my rod swelled, lengthened and hardened under her fingers, and this time it seemed to me that my manhood achieved entirely new levels of engorgement. When she gently squeezed it, perhaps in order to gauge its readiness, it felt like a bar of steel in her hand, and when she wrapped her fingers around it she could not fully encompass it, nor cover even half its length with her palm.

Then she bent forward to kiss the engorged tip of my rigid organ, and I involuntarily moaned at the contact. My lust soared, and when I felt her tongue explore that most sensitive region, a shiver of ecstasy ran trough me. Meanwhile her fingertips played across the skin of my sack, gently lifting its delicate contents and touching me in ways I had never before been touched before. Her kisses on the tip of my manhood became more intense, and then she opened her mouth and let my rod slip between her lips.

As I have already stated, I have known intimacy with women, some few of whom were both quite experienced and quite eager, and therefore I was no stranger to the delights of such oral attentions. But never had I felt anything like this. Her lips, warm and soft, were like velvet around the tip of my manhood, and she applied them most skillfully. It has long been my opinion that he soft, tender touch of a woman's kiss is one of the most precious things in life. The touch of her lips, the caress of her hands; nothing bespeaks her feelings more clearly than that. To feel this gentle touch envelop the most sensitive part of my rod was simply beyond description.