Chapter 16

When my naked pussy had stopped its delicious quivering I asked Sibyl "How do I become a Full Cuntess?"

I am too much of a cock-loving woman to ever go in for the lesbian bit, but if I ever changed my mind Sibyl was quite an expert. I am very adaptable and the pussy-sucking festival which had just happened between us was a very refreshing experience, Okay, occasionally.

Sibyl answered my question concerning The Order.

"Easy does it, Dee Dee. Everything goes by stages and nothing happens overnight. Take me foi example," she reminisced. "I took stock of myself when I was very young and went into the only business a good-looking girl can succeed at fast. I started out in a Chicago cathouse and then the syndicate sent me to the New York circuit. But I realized I'd be a junkie with a dried-up pussy at thirty if I kept being just an ordinary prosty."

"So I talked the syndicate boys into letting me handle a whorehouse for them, and I became one of the youngest madams in the business. But this house was in Havana, and after a while I got bored with the take and with the climate and Latin-type prick as well. Then Castro came. I missed the excitement of New York, so I came back here and went on the con.

After a few brushes with the law while working cons like the badger game, the missing heiress bit and phony stores, I realized a great truth. I was working against the law, and always risking jail. Why not work within the law?"

"And so you decided to start the "Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness?"

"Exactly. You may not be aware of it but there are literally hundreds of different religious cults in the New York area. The place is crawling with Swamis and self-styled religious leaders. And organizing your own cult is entirely legal, with dozens of legitimate, juicy profit angles for the leader of the cult. But I did a great deal of research in various fields before I started. Fields whose value had become apparent to me while I was investigating the more successful cults. Electronics. Abnormal psychology. Sexology. Hypnotism. Dramatics. Mythology. Also -well, the complete list would bore you. Suffice it to say that when, at the end of two years, I opened my first Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness, I was confident of success. And I was right. From a slow and cautious start I was able, within a couple of years, to finance the construction of the building in which you and I now loll drinking imported gin. This building" -she waved a languorous hand -"has set me back plenty. But" -her face took on a happy, greedy expression -"before long I expect to regain all my expenditures. And then move on to undreamed-of financial success."

She smiled at me. "And the real secret of my success can be summed up in one simple word. If you're intuitively perceptive as I think you are, you can no doubt tell me what word I'm referring to."

I looked at her. At her almost totally naked golden body, at her huge, out-thrust breasts -the nipples of which, I noted with belated surprise, were painted bright gold -at her full, juicy cunt, at her ample naked ass.

"Lust?" I inquired.

"Precisely. But no crude, obvious sex. Subtle, devious -and utterly pagan lust. That is the basic secret of the success of the Tabernacle of Cosmic Consciousness."

"How masterfull" I gasped.

"Thank you. But please understand, I have not merely opened a house of pagan unbridled humping. No, I have created a complex and imaginative pagan religion of great, uh, complexity. The magnificent pagan edifice I have created is constructed of many bricks. Bricks carefully selected and tested. My new and extremely profitable -pagan religion is a composit -a careful selection of the worst features of dozens of pagan cults and rites."

"For instance?" I asked, wondering whether she had said "bricks" or "pricks."

She shrugged her naked shoulders. "The com plete list would take hours to enumerate -and would bore you. From the Dionysian revels of Ancient Greece I borrowed -certain things. From the emphasis upon the sexual delights of Paradise found in the Moslem religion I borrowed still more. From the Vedic rites of India, as characterized by the incredibly erotic copulating sculptures of where the hell is it? I forget the city -I borrowed other, uh, facets. I took bits of the lesser-known and more lewd -precepts of Zen. I dipped heavily into the lore of the Incas who did, as you no doubt know, rather horrible things to sacrificial maidens especially their hymens. I borrowed the most lewd Druidic rites, the more obscene Voodoo customs, the most shocking practices of the pagan Black Mass -liberally mixed with primitive fertility penile and vaginal rites. Add some of the less-publicized habits of African witch doctors, the essence of the Middle European vampire cult, the most degraded fuck perversions of the Roman emporors and -you have the basic formula of my new pagan religion."

"How wonderful," I cried. "It must be completely depraved."

"It is," said Sibyl, a trifle smugly. "However, on the surface at least, I've cleaned it up quite a bit. It's only after the suckers -I mean converts have fallen completely under my spell that they realize just what they've gotten into. And by that time, of course, it's much too late. Also, by that time they are so cock or cunt crazy they don't care any more. That, in short, is the secret of my success."

"Tell me more," I begged.

Sibyl smiled. "I'd rather show you," she said, climbing lazily to her feet. "Come."

I followed her through another curtain-hung archway. Now we were in an even bigger room. Except for the fact that there were silk cushions scat tered around the floor instead of seats, it was fixed up rather like a small theater, with a low platform stage at one end. Sibyl laughed. "Here's where I fleece the suckers. Some of the really dumb ones even fall for that"

I looked where she was pointing. A big crystal ball rested on a low table. I walked over and looked at it. She must have had it connected up to some hidden light source, because a little bright point of light seemed to spin in a circle inside the glass-ball. "How silly," I said. "Imagine anyone taking a crystal ball seriously, when there are so many other kinds of balls around."

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" agreed Sibyl. "However, I have some more ingenious gadgets." She picked up what looked like a tiny walkie-talkie. "Remote control panel," she explained. "No wires." She punched a button. "Look at the top of the stage."

I looked. All along the top of the wall that served as backdrop to the stage, white, heavy mist was pouring out of a twenty-foot long slot close to the ceiling. It was very heavy mist and it slid right down the wall like a huge waterfall of white smoke. When it hit the floor it just seemed to disappear -evidently being sucked into another long slot.

It looked real impressive -like a huge, wide movie screen -only made out of spooky-looking mist. Sibyl punched another button and all the lights in the room went out suddenly. "Watch," she said, and all of a sudden the huge curtain of mist in front of us began to glow with an eerie greenish light, while all the while it writhed and shimmered like a come-covered cunt in the throes of an orgasm.

"The effect," murmured Sibyl, "would have been more impressive if I hadn't first showed you my, heh, heh, Divisionary Perceptive Ectoplasm with the lights on. Watch. I'll project a few movies on the mist."

I heard the click of another button -and all of a sudden the curtain of mist seemed to pulse and throb like a big spurting cock with a million colored lights. It spun and whirled and shot out light in all directiones. Then it dimmed again, and all at once two enormous glowing eyes seemed to stare out at me -huge eyes, horrible, malignant eyes. Then the eyes faded and a lurching, wavering monster seemed to come right at me -an awful-looking thing, sort of half human and half animal.

"The Egyptian God Isis, their Queen Mother of Hump," murmured Sibyl. "Or, to be exact, a color movie of Sardar Parker dressed in a monster costume. Looks unpleasantly real, doesn't he? The mist gives a three-dimensional quality to anything projected on it."

"Uh, yeah," I said. Actually, though now that I knew the horrible three-dimensional monster was only Sardar Parker being projected on a curtain of phony mist, I hardly felt frightened at all.

"You don't sound very impressed," laughed Sibyl. "But remember that you know you're looking at a chemically produced fog -not ectoplasm. You know I'm projecting color movies onto it. The suckers don't, of course. They think the whole thing's for real."

"How dumb of them," I said. "Perhaps. But bear in mind that the suckers don't just sit down cold to watch my -well, my artificial visual hallucinations. Long before they enter this heh, heh, Inner Temple, they've been subjected to several hours of careful prick and twat conditioning among other things. To begin with, I've given them a glass of judiciously drugged wine." "Hard-on drops, and pussy stimulators?" "Not at all," said Sibyl. "A much more subtle and complex blend. A dash of tincture of opium. A trace of LSD, the chemical that produces schizophrenic fantasies. A little extract of hallucinogenic mushrooms. A wee bit of liquified Spanish fly. Plus -well, a number of other ingredients. I spent almost a year perfecting my formula. And in addition I subject the poor chumps to sublimal hypnotic suggestion. The result -when they enter this Inner Temple they're in a near-hypnotic trance. Ready to believe almost anything they see. And," she said, with a laugh -a cold, dry laugh -"they see plenty. Whatever I want them to see . . . Such as fear ..."

I heard the click of another button being pressed -and suddenly the air was drenched with horrible, screaming, banshee-type sounds. It was indescribable. It was as if a million subway trains were roaring all around me. And then out of the mist, hurtling straight toward me, came a horrible winged serpent, its jaws wide open, its fangs getting closer and closer -It looked like the most monstrous cock in the world, fire and smoke seething from its peehole!

Despite the fact that I am not allergic to pricks in any form, I yelped and jumped back a foot or so.

The monster-cock -and the horrible sounds like a gorilla having an orgasm -vanished abruptly.

"Or," murmured Sibyl, "to show them raw, naked fuck ..." And all at once the mist took on the shape of a writhing, twisting, totally naked girl. Closer and closer she came, her exposed pink, wet cunt churning frantically, her titties shaking and swaying -closer and closer . . . until the huge coral vagina and its immense hole seemed about to swallow me up!

"Huh," I said. "She didn't strike me as being all that twat-exciting."

"That," said Sibyl, "is because you're a female. A male would develop a wild, uncontrollable hardon -ready to shove it up the first nooky he sees."

"Maybe," I said. "Beside glorified penis and pussy, what else do you project onto this phony mist?"

For a long moment there was silence. Then Sibyl said, in a real strange voice, "Images -of the dead."

"Oh," I said. "I know that racket. I've read about that stunt in magazine articles. These people who run phony seances, they get hold of old snapshots and project them. Like, some stupid old bitch comes to them and says she wants to talk to her dead husband, and they talk a lot of mumbo-jumbo -and then project a photograph of the dame's husband on a smoke-pot or something. And the stupid dogtwat thinks she's really looking at her departed prick-pusher in Heaven or someplace. That's a corny racket. Nobody would fall for that."

"Really?" asked Sibyl, her voice kind of cold and purring at the same time. "Credit me with having improved upon old tricks. Look in the mist now, Dee Dee -you remember, you are not drugged and susceptible -you know I'm merely using scientific hokus-pokus. Knowing all this -I defy you to gaze into the mist with impunity!"

Big deal. She was trying to impress me. I yawned and stared into the mist. And as I stared the mist seemed to glow and creep out toward me like creamy come and all at once there was mist all around me and it was like I was standing alone in the middle of a lonely plain with nothing but glowing mist all about me.

And for no reason I suddenly felt fear, awful fear deep down inside me, and my ears started to ring, and then -out of the mist, walking slowly, very slowly toward me came a man.

A man who looked like -Luke! Luke, the only man I'd ever really loved, the man who but it couldn't be. Luke was dead -I'd seen him killed, seen his head smashed in by a rifle butt . . .

But it was Luke. He walked slowly toward me, kind of dragging his feet, his face looking hurt and bewildered and lost. He reached out his arms to me, hopelessly, helplessly . . . Dee Dee! he cried, Dee Dee, where are you?

I heard myself scream. It was Luke, it was and he was alive! He -and then the mist seemed to clear and I saw, with awful clarity, that the whole side of his head was horribly smashed in and dripping with blood . . .

I clapped my hands to my eyes and screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed.

Then all at once I saw through my fingers that the lights in the room had come on again, and I felt Sibyl shake my shoulder and heard her say, "Forgive me, child. I didn't think you'd -that there was anyone that close to you who's just -forgive me, Dee Dee. Whoever you saw you must have loved him or her very deeply."

I took my hands away from my eyes and looked at her. Then I looked around. The room was bare, empty. Even the mist no longer streamed down the wall like liquid come-juice in front of me.

"Have some more gin," said Sibyl. I took the glass and drank it down.

"How did you do it?" I asked. "How? That wasn't a photograph of Luke -that was Luke right down to the bulge his cock and balls made in his pants! How did you do it?"

"Calm yourself, child," she said. 'Tve already told you I'm sorry. I had no idea that -" she shruged. "One can't always judge the effects one pro duces."

I poured myself some more gin. My hands were still shaking. "How did you do it?" I repeated. "How did you project Luke like that?"

"I didn't," Sibyl said. "I haven't the slightest idea who Luke is -or was. You projected him. Posthypnotic suggestion, they call it. Don't look so dubious. There's nothing mysterious or occult about hypnotism. You can read about it in any textbook. That crystal ball you glanced at -I used it to hypnotize you. You think -now -that you looked at it for no more than a second or two. Actually I had you in a deep hypnotic trance for over two minutes. During that time I implanted two or three posthypnotic commands in your mind. The first being that, within a few seconds after you heard the phrase, gaze into the mist, you would suddenly see the image of someone you'd once known who was now dead."

She shrugged. "Since I was merely giving you a demonstration, I was deliberately non-specific. You might have seen anyone or anything -a dead pet, a distant relative who'd died. I had no intention of stirring up memories of the only guy whose cock you ever really cared for. Forgive me?"

I hesitated. "Yeah," I said. "I guess it wasn't your fault. But tell me, is this post-hypnotic suggestion stuff for real?"

She laughed. "You should know. But yes, seriously, it's very real -though not too widely known." She lit a cigarette, blew smoke out thoughtfully. "There's on classic case, mentioned in many textbooks, of a college professor who was hypnotized during a demonstration and told that, when he heard a bell ring twice, he'd see a parrot. For some reason the demonstration wasn't completed. Five weeks five weeks -later, the professor was lecturing before a class when he suddenly screamed and flung up his hands. He'd seen a giant parrot flying toward his face. Why? Because a bell on the campus had rung twice."

"Golly," I said.

"Precisely," said Sibyl. "Cogitate -think over, that is -just how effective a weapon post-hypnotic suggestion could be if used by a totally unscrupulous person -such as myself."

I thought it over. She was right. If she could shake me right up and down my cunt, among other places -after telling me she was going to fool me

-what couldn't she do to some susceptible old cunt-lapper who didn't know from nothing? She could con him into doing just about anything, like

-I broke off thinking and grinned at her.

"Hey," I said. "I just figured out how you make this phony pagan religion pay off -you post-hypnotic the old bastards and cock-crazy old cuties into giving you all their dough."

Sibyl smiled. "Certainly not," she said, "If I did, the district attorney would be on my neck in ten minutes. No, I use much more devious means," She stabbed a finger at me suddenly. "Dee Dee, if you had ten thousand dollars -what would you do with it? Quick now!"

"That's easy," I said. "I'd invest it in Greenland Oil. It's a small company, not much thought of, but I'm just about sure it's going to pay off big in a few months."

Sibyl smiled. "There are no oil wells in Greenland, Dee Dee. And there is no such company. The phrase quickly now simply triggered the second of the post-hypnotic suggestions I gave you."

I scratched my head. "You sure there isn't a company with that name?"

'Positive. However, there are quite a few small, worthless companies -wholly owned by me under other names -into which my rich suckers, I mean converts -continually pour their money. Poor dears. They always end up losing every dollar they were ever stupid enough to invest. I, however, do very well. And who can prove -or even suspect -a thing? Yes, post-hypnotic suggestion can be a wonderful thing. For the hypnotist."

"Miss Sibyl," I said, "You're a female genius. I'd love to join The Order. If I may."

"Yes, Dee Dee," Sibyl answered thoughtfully. "I think you'll make out all right. You impress me as being a young girl with great potential," both pussy-wise and otherwise."

"All my men friends have told me the same thing," I said.

"Let me outline the setup of The Order so you'll know what's what," Sibyl continued. "Besides the house servants, there are at present seventeen healthy, sexy, pleasantly morally depraved young cock and cunt members of The Order. There are seven male Full Cocksters and ten female Full Cuntessas, the female Full Cuntessas also perform the duties of Tabernacle Virgins."

I didn't interrupt her to ask what a Tabernacle Virgin did.

"You are now officially a member of The Order," Sibyl intoned.

"Thank you," I said.

"You will now be given the official welcome of The Order to Primary Cuntessas. After that Dee Dee, you will be considered a Full Cuntessas, Sibyl said with a sly glance at my pussy.

She left the room, and if I had known what the official welcome routine gimmick was like, I would have left too.