Chapter 8
Julie roused herself at the sound of the swami's voice and raised her head languorously from the bench. The swami's back was towards her as he addressed the circle of women standing beyond the light of the torches.
"Fetch the Ordination Robes for your Priestess," he instructed them.
The women scurried away to do his bidding, returning moments later with their arms laden with filmy garments.
Silently, they held them out to Julie's two attendants. "Dress yourselves, my pretty flowers," Guram Zubri told the small circle of girls. "There are garments there for all of you. The monks and I will await you by the entrance to the Temple."
Laughing in their excitement, the girls examined the clothes by the light of the torches. With the exception of Julie's more elaborate gown, all the dresses were embroidered, tunics of clinging silk.
As they slipped them on, the gauzy material seemed to transform them from creatures of flesh and blood into delicate spirits that flitted in and out of the flickering torch light with a dreamlike quality. There was nothing dreamlike, though, about the rounded contours of their young bodies whenever outlined for a minute against the torchlight. The fabric, of finest Indian silk, allowed the rich fullness of their figures to be plainly visible through the practically transparent cloth.
As they moved, there would be a fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of a firm thigh or the enticing pinkness of a young nipple pressed momentarily against the hardly concealing material.
As they finished dressing, the girls crowded around Julie to help her two attendants select a dress. One by one, the garments were held up and admired. Taking them from the outstretched hands, Dora and Shirley helped their mistress as she slowly became transformed from a blonde, American teenager to a figure that would have graced the harem of any Eastern potentate. The soft flowing lines of a sari graced the lower half of Julie's trim figure. Fitting tightly as it did, the enclosing material forced Julie to walk with the flowing grace of a high-caste Indian woman. Every inch of her long-legged beauty was revealed through the opaque material.
The smooth sweep of her calf gave way to the plump fullness of her thigh with a line of breathtaking beauty. The contours of her inner thigh ran upwards delicately to merge with the enticing hairless vee of her groin. The whole effect was one of utterly sexless beauty, "like a Greek statue of some ancient goddess.
About her upper body was fitted a jacket such as the Hindu women wear. The long-sleeved garment fitted tight under her full boobs, accentuating the extraordinary cone-shaped breasts. Though the garment covered, it did little to conceal and every detail was discernible as she reached behind her to secure the traditional mask on her head. Though the yasmak actually belonged to the Muslims, the swami had felt little compunction in borrowing it for his sect, as he knew the devotees would be unaware of the anomaly. Actually in his heart of hearts, he rather agreed with the principle behind it and despite all his talk to the contrary, held little patience with the idea of women's equality. That a woman should hide her face so as not to tempt man, sounded like a damned good practice as far as the swami was concerned ... particularly when they looked like some of his older disciples, Mrs. Ogglethorpe for instance. Though, to give fair credit, with her dentures out she did give a good head job. Those toothless gums had a little knack of squeezing down just as he was shooting his load that nearly blew his mind. The slight pain of her pinching seemed to exaggerate the ecstasy of his release. A remarkable woman in many respects, but most importantly, a very rich one.
At last the guru gave a signal to one of the monks standing beside the huge brass gong.
"Summon my people to the ceremony," he commanded testily.
The lusty tone of the gong beat insistently through the warm night air. In groups of various sizes, the faithful left homes, bazaar and places of work to gather in an eager throng before the steps of the temple.
Bright electric lighting glared down from the cornices and columns, turning the facade into a Disneylike fairy land. On the terrace, which ran the length of the building, Guram Zubri's throne seat had been placed in the center of a row of chairs for the lesser monks. In the middle of the platform, a silk cushion had been placed for Julie.
An expectant hush fell over the waiting crowd as music heralded the approach of the cult leaders. With superb showmanship, the guru allowed the musicians and monks to stand at their allotted places before he entered.
The pulse-quickening music ended with an abrupt flourish as the gong sounded again from the depths of the temple. The monks prostrated themselves on the ground as the multicolored crowd broke into shouts of acclaim. With solemn, dignified steps, Roddy walked into the illuminated terrace holding a grotesquely carved Indian fertility symbol high in his hands. The guru followed behind him, his thin body seeming to float along in his flowing robes.
Seating himself with assurance on his raised throne, he held his arms up in a blessing. Utter silence fell upon the assembled throng.
"My fellow people," he began, with his voice thin and reedy as it cut through the densely packed plaza. "Let me make this perfectly clear: I have summoned you to witness the fulfilling of prophesies that have been written in our sacred books. It had been said that if man gives away his accumulated wealth and turns inward upon himself in contemplation, he will achieve Nirvana. In this blessed state, he can know no evil and all his deeds will be sanctified. Only by converting that which the unenlightened call base and wicked into purity can we rid mankind of its corruption. I have taught you that sex is an approach to the bliss of heaven."
A low murmur of approval of the Holy Words ran through the crowd gathered before him.
Again, the swami held his hands up for silence before continuing. "But ... This is not enough. Each great philosophy has a focal point. A high peak of truth from whence it can expound its doctrine. The more learned amongst you have read that we await the coming of The Virgin. This untouched female will be the fallow ground wherein the seeds of our faith shall join with the flesh of her body. In the normal sex act, the male pours his seed into the wet yoni of the woman." The swami's voice cackled in his excitement and beads of sweat stood out on his animatedly twitching face.
"But, what is the purpose of this coupling?" he demanded rhetorically. Without waiting for an answer, he continued his harangue. "It is only to fulfill the women's purpose for procreating. If the Gods do not will it thus, the precious seed is allowed to dribble away and run wastefully down the woman's legs. Disgusting ... The seed of man carries the essence of eternity within them. All his strivings, all his hopes and dreams are contained within the precious fluid. This must not be cast upon barren ground ... There is another way, praise be to All-seeing Providence. If the sperms are placed into the eager mouth of woman and swallowed ritually saying the sacred words, they will pass into her being completely. There to merge with the flesh, blood and bone of her body in holy completeness. As the digestive system completes its work, they become as one with every part. Thus she becomes the living temple of man's yearning and holy essence. Praise be to the blessed saints who, after devoting their lives to endless study and practice, discovered this principle."
Guram Zubri paused and looked around him with theatrical effect. "There are none here who doubt the revelation of my words?"
Cries of agreement roared from the enraptured crowd. Guram Zubri beamed upon them like a grade school teacher when his class has come up with the right answer. His voice sunk to an impressive key as he pointed off stage.
"In response to our prayers, providence has sent a virgin to us to take the Holy Sacrament of our gushing sperms. This child is pure and uncorrupted. Her thoughts, like her delicious body, are as white as the driven snow. I, your acknowledged representative of All Holy Knowing and purity, shall shoot my ..." he corrected himself quickly, carried away by the intensity of his desire.
"I have attained a sufficiently high state of wisdom and cleanliness to give my seeds into the vessel of this girl's body. In her purity, they will become part of her, coursing through her divine body like a living fire. As she moves, her motion will come from my essence within. As she thinks her thoughts will wing like birds of paradise straight to the altars of the highest. The wisdom of my understanding will be upon them and the gods will know there is sanctity and holiness upon earth ..."
The swami turned and held his hands out to the dimly lit side of the terrace. "Let it be done. Bring forth the virgin."
The haunting melody of the Indian music swelled in volume as the musicians bent over their instruments. A queenly representative of feminine beauty, Julie minced into the lights, her tightly swathed sari heightening the regal effect. Behind her, the temple maidens walked at a respectful distance. The bright lights cut through the transparent materials of their dresses like a hot knife through butter, leaving no detail of their delectable bodies to the imagination.
Reaching the center of the terrace, they turned to face the silent, fascinated crowd. A roar of approval surged from the exulting crowd as hundreds of eyes penetrated every fold of Julie's revealing costume. Cries of animal lust and passion mingled with the exclamations of religious fervor. The dark gaze of Guram Zubri burnt into Julie's flesh like a hot iron. Conscious of his eyes, she turned towards him questioningly.
A slow smile played about the corners of his wet lips. "Be not impatient. Soon I will merge with you."
He addressed the crowd again. "In this bowl," he pointed to the brass dish of pubic hair that Roddy held before him. "Here are the last traces of your High Priestess's earlier karma. They shall be changed in form and scattered to the four winds. She is then released from all but her life in our service."
A robed monk came forward with a flickering torch. Taking the gleaming cunt hair from the bowl, Roddy sprinkled it over the eager, leaping flame of the torch. Each feather-light hair crisped for a moment before bursting into a tiny point of fire. For one intense second, a hair would burn and then drift away to merge with the surrounding darkness of the night.
The swami's voice intoned steadily. "And so your past changes. Drifting away into the oblivion of darkness. You are smooth, naked and reborn."
His hands beckoned her and she felt herself walking across the intervening space as if drawn by a magnet. Taking her arms, Guran Aubri positioned them into the gestures of an Indian goddess.
"And now, the High Priestess shall be revealed unto you," Guram Zubri announced. His fingers sought the fastener of her dress. A deft twist and the single button was undone.
With a caressing movement, the swami eased the soft garment from her torso, leaving her upper body starkly revealed in the strong lighting. Summoning her young attendants, he had them remove the sari from her waist. Kneeling in front of her, the young girls inched the tight-fitting skirt-like dress from her rounded stomach. As if reluctant to relinquish its closeness to her warm flesh, the sari slipped lower in response to the girl's steady downward pull. Lower and lower, the dress sank past Julie's slim hips until the smooth V of her hairless mound of Venus appeared above the moving hem. Steadily, the material was peeled from her and the details of her pouting cunt lips surrendered themselves to the stares of the excited crowd. Further and further the dress dropped over her thighs, pausing for a moment as it slid over her knees, then dropped with a silken rustle to lay in folds around her ankles.
Stark naked, Julie stood motionless as the guru's words spat over her young body at the crowd. "This is your Head Priestess. Kneel and do her reverence. The Virginal Head Priestess. The Head Virgin amongst my Chosen Women."
As if in a daze, Julie thought she heard the sound of Roddy's reassuring American voice as he mumbled in the background.
"Her cunt may still be cherry, but her head won't be virgin after tonight."
Though the sound of Roddy's reassuring American accent brought a touch of the commonplace into the unusual situation that she was in, the meaning of Roddy's words confused Julie. And what was all this talk about being a virgin. A Head Virgin. After all the pounding pricks that she had sucked on, she could hardly say that her head was still cherry. Or her armpits, or anywhere else except her clammy, longing twat that still demanded attention after all of the sex-filled days and nights she had been in perverted, promiscuous Los Angeles.
The guru's voice trembled with a passionate intensity as it cut in on Julie's thoughts. "And now, you will apply your mouth to the sacred yang of the Holy Swami Guram Zubri."
Julie felt his firm hands upon her head as he gently forced her down to a kneeling position on the cushions in front of him. As if mesmerized, she watched him peel off his flowing robes until only a cloth covered his waist. His thin legs looked incongruous as they stuck out from beneath.
The tense crowd seemed unaware of his frail, skinny body as they breathlessly awaited his next move. With agonizing slowness, he unwound the covering from his middle. Julie's eyes were inches away from the long, sinuous, snakelike prick when it fell clear of the material.
Instinctively, her mouth dropped open in awe of this monstrous prick that grew from the emaciated loins of the guru. Smiling his approval of her reaction, Guram Zubri grasped his hands behind her head and pulled her open mouth onto his tool. Remembering her previous experience with another huge, mouth-filling erection, Julie swallowed hard as she felt the rigid member sliding over her wet tongue and pushing its way down the sensitive tissue of her throat. By a supreme effort of concentration, she prevented herself from gagging, as inch after long inch of Guram Zubri's snake insinuated itself down her throat. With a feeling of satisfaction, she felt the spongy slap of his testicles as they registered against her chin.
A cry of wonder and admiration burst from the amazed crowd. "She does it. She has taken all of the swami's yang into her mouth. His seed will not be wasted in one so compliant and receptive."
Julie felt the massive prick stirring deep within her for a few convulsive moments. Then, with practiced slowness, he began to withdraw it, allowing every ripple and convolution of Julie's arched throat to caress it as it slipped past.
Exclamations of joy came from the guru above her. "Ahhhhh, she does well, does our priestess."
Inch by inch the long dong was withdrawn from Julie's sucking red lips. Her saliva glistened on the brown skin in the bright lights. The pulsating head rested on her tongue at last and Julie closed her eyes and settled down to give the swami the blow job of his life.
Half convinced by the impassioned speech of the swami, Julie felt that this was the special occasion that all her previous lessons in cocksucking had led up to. Searching under his stretched foreskin, Julie's tongue found the sensitive glans at the head of his slimy, oozing dick. The salt taste of his emissions goaded her on to the reward of his bursting climax. Her tongue flicked like lightning around his conductor. The electric stimulation of her licking tongue convulsed the twitching swami until he was clutching her head in a grip of iron. A wet slurping sound came from her lips as she sucked on the tense flesh of his rod without faltering in the steady revolving motion of her tongue.
"Bless you, my child," the swami's grimacing mouth uttered.
Faster and faster, her pointed pink tongue circled the iron-hard intruder as her head jerked with a trancelike motion back and forth.
Reaching up, her hands stroked the tensed balls in the swami's wrinkled scrotum.
With a shudder, Guram Zubri pulled the frantic head away from his immense shaft. "Steady. Not so fast," he begged her. "This is a sacred ritual that my people must share."
With an effort, he raised his voice and addressed the excited crowd. "This is indeed the promised moment. All people must share in the communion. Those of you who are sufficiently inspired will turn to the nearest person and repeat the sacrament that is being performed by the High Priestess and your guru. Do as you are bidden."
Nothing loath, the frenzied crowd tore the clothes from their eager bodies and sought the sucking mouth Of the person next to them.
In an excess of religious zeal, couples threw themselves on the ground and formed the sixty-nine position. As hundreds of cocks slipped into eagerly moist mouths, Julie felt a tangible wave of sexual communication rise from the heaving moaning mass in the plaza and sweep over her in a crashing wave. Among the frenzied moans, she could hear the unmistakable lapping sound as the men's tongues scooped up the juices of their partner's love pit.
Her own wet twat flooded with the insistent need for a hard prick to slide into its yearning depths. Alone, out of all the assembled women, Julie was the only one that wasn't getting as good as she gave.
Resignedly, she slid her mouth onto Guram Zubri's hard member. Twisting her head, she looked around to see who was blowing Roddy.
If only she could feel the length of his prick forcing its way into her burning pussy. She would be happy to blow the swami until the wax came out of his ears.
Slowly, her eyes swept along the line of naked monks, each with a temple maiden attached to the end of his pumping prick. Roddy was not among them. Where was he and what was he doing?
Then she spotted him just as his figure merged with the shadows at the end of the terrace.
"Damn him," she thought. "He is walking out oh me. On me, on everybody. Even if he doesn't really go for this religious stuff, surely he is not going to miss a chance to get his tubes cleaned. Maybe he's queer," thought Julie spitefully. Maybe he's gone to ream out somebody's asshole. Well, to hell with him. I've got a length of dong in my mouth that will keep me occupied for a little while."
With renewed vigor, Julie sucked the erect cock into her warm mouth and gave her concentration to timing her suck with the thrust of the guru's hips.
Suddenly, the lights went out, blanketing the copulating masses in darkness.
The reassuring voice of Guram Zubri flowed through the blackness, like balm. "Do not be alarmed. It is only a power failure. Everyone must carry on with the ritual. Keep sucking until the blessed sperms engulf you."
Suiting action to word, the swami closed his eyes in the darkness and surrendered himself to the delights of Julie's rhythmic tonguing of his bulging prick.
A sixth sense made Julie aware of stealthy footsteps approaching her across the pitch black terrace. Furtively, the footsteps made their way around oblivious couples as they rocked in the ecstasy of their passion. Steadily they padded on until Julie felt a hand touching her bent ass. One finger slipped inside her saturated cunt lips and touched her erect love button.
A dull fleshy thud came from behind her as the unknown violator knelt down, doggy fashion at her rear. Two large, masculine hands crept around her back and clutched at the firm, white protrusions of her tits.
A man's voice whispered harshly on her neck. "Keep sucking baby. Don't stop. It's me, Roddy. I turned the goddamn lights off at the main. Can you keep old dry bollocks busy while I slip you a length from the back?"
The relief swelled up in Julie's stomach. Running through her happy body, she broke out around Guram Zubri's huge dong in a happy, bubbling cry. "Oh ... Yes ... YES ... Give it to me all the way."
Obligingly, the two men obeyed her and Julie felt the strong probes of her two impassioned priests plunge hilt deep into her tight, untouched love pit, she wriggled back onto it with a sigh of satisfaction.
At last she was getting laid and it felt every bit as good as she knew it would. But a small twinge of conscience-fed doubt stabbed through her like a toothache. If her sucking on the guru's cock was some sort of religious deal, like all that stuff about his sperms living on inside her body, was it right that Roddy should be driving his gloriously big prick into her enveloping pussy at the same time?
But the swami's words came back to her reassuringly-"To be pure in mind, all is holy. No matter what shall happen to you during our rituals, you are to submit and your sanctity shall keep you chaste."
"Oh well," she thought, "why not do as the man says?"
She "munched contentedly on Guram Zubri's tool as he swayed in the concealing darkness above her. The wet sounds of sex came from all around her before she blotted them out and concentrated on the stiff thrust... thrust... thrust of the hot pricks that ripped their muscular way into her fulfilled flesh.