Temple of the Four Winds; Insufflation par son insu, Revelation/Concealment/Trope/Leverage/Power.
With the release of a physical tension so long held, until the events of the preceding night...and reveille, brought into being a new burden of tension and stress.
A dual conspiracy between the two women over the manifest supernatural agency of the incubus...they had so lately mutually rejoiced in...losing all bodily restraint therein, and giving in wholeheartedly, to the overpowering over reaching pangs of their corporeal flesh.
Coupled with the distinct awareness that an all seeing eye had hovered there, privy to their atavistic rites of consummation; par son insu...dechirez, torn... as it were, into two distinct entities, wherein the cerebral interlocutors of the catholic sublime could now only surrender to the revelation of a Janus faced dichotomy glaring in two distinct lights made one. All this at the very heart and core of their existence and now challenged belief systems.
The undeniably miraculous import, of stone made flesh, and juxtaposed so, to their hitherto unshakeable beliefs as to the flesh and blood of Christ in sacrament... so central to their consumption and assumption in faith, in short, it was no symbolic fantasy, or superficial platitude... they truly believed in this purest of faiths and devotion; that they consumed his flesh , and drank his blood as a sacred covenant. A solemn ritual two thousand years old, embodying the purest of truths and profundity of communion with the almighty one lord and god.
Who was that unknown watcher in the dark of night? Who peered through the eyes of the blessed Virgin of the icon divine? Was their relish? Surprise? Disgust? Empowerment? Control? Self righteousness? Delight? In that act of concealed' voyeurism?
Would the vision once held... stay in confidence.../ close to the soul of the heart of hearts of the bearer?... or would it fly rampant, gathering a tempests ire as it flew? Hurling itself onwards into the outer ether thus colliding at random with what ever disorient casualty it encountered?
The Black habit rustling away into the darkness of the scriptorium...what tremors, what residual moistures or burgeonings of jealousy or culpability or unquenched desire...? did that moonlit scene of otherworldy congress incite, in the possessor of that burdensome darkling raiment?
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Temple of the Four Winds: Sonnez les Matina
Welling within the trio in unison, came a sensation of tipping over a precipice and then the commencement , (at first slow moving), of a long momentous tobogganing run of gathering speed.
Marjolaine felt a cool crisp breeze on her face alone, while her body remained enveloped in furs; a soft comforting warmth radiating outwards from her core; a firey core of molten liquidity coupling strange and delightful sensations of a deepest security...as her loins held within her fundament that living gushing goatskin flagon; pulsing re-assuringly,miraculously, inside her...
Down into the frosted valley they sped, their eyes filled with a thousand points of windborn flakes of snow; a stellar speeding past of multifaceted comets and crystalline sparks.
Such was the penultimate degree of sexual transport conveyed to the two earnest women as their communal annealing came to a resounding apotheosis of rhythmic joy and contentment. A transport of the psyche through physical sensations, to realms never visited before in mind or body... Dawn was now upon them, as a golden aurora supplanted the earlier tints of apricot and vermilion...
A rapturous end to the evenings delights came as Marjolaine was assailed a l'arriere, the Satyr assuming 'the way of the Stallion'...( and this, after hours of instruction in 'the ten thousand pleasures of Yoo', 'the way of the Serpent', 'the Forty Eight Frictions'...and the 'Way of the Dog'...)
Heloise , by this time , exhausted...and watching sated, close by, marveled; hypnotised, by the singular beauty of his nether structures, their ruddy inflorescence, wed to that of her Superior...the powerful flexing pump of perineal trottoire , as he filled the Abbess with yet more fountaining seed. Entranced, she watched, the subtle winking of his nether eye, spasmodically opening and closing in time to his jetting contractions, and orgasmic crisis. She gingerly caressed with a free hand, his pendulous jewelery, rising and falling in accord with the movement, noting that each gentle pass of her fingers on his straining sack, drove him into a kind of renewed madness of groaning panic and frantic urgency; involuntary physical hysteria...
Then!...more boldly; she grabbed hold of his swollen balls and gave a gentle tug... a strange thing happened...to her amazement...! his bodily form disappeared altogether!... in a sudden puff of blue mist!
All that remained, half imbedded in the Abbess, was the parian marble relic! l'objet trouver d'hier...! Shocked by this development, Heloise slowly pulled the castrated stonework from the body of the Abbess.... it came away with a cloying sucking sound... slick and steaming with the gleats and dews of primal essences.
Marjolaine, exhaled a final groan of deflating tension, and turning to look at her subordinate, holding the tooled artefact, she too, was amazed and astounded! He was gone, leaving only the sculpted vestige of his divine purpose.
Rapidly coming to their quotidian senses, the two women embraced in an attitude of helpless worry, mingled with fear and stunned amazement.
"Qu' est ce qu'on vas faire Madame Marjolaine?, ma mere Sainte, Dieu Sainte!?"
In tears of joy,. mingled with a mental quickening...dumbfounded, they sought to rationalize without words...the previous events of that night now spent...
Recourse to the cold reality of the wash basin, cambric rags , and dressing in the remains of a cold sweat, at their collusion, now colouring with a burgeoning guilt, ...daylight crept through the casement in the very first beams of a newly risen sun.
Still in a dazed and dreamlike state, they washed the marbled relic in silence. Palpable reverence, mingled with wonderment, conveyed by the careful handling of their fingers was overwrought,precious, apparent and stealthy.
" This unsolders all we have been led to stand for", whispered la mere Marjolaine, ..."I am uplifted, yet torn asunder, at once!"...."How will we countenance this new discovery?"..."Ma cher soeur Heloise, what shall we do indeed!"...... "I am of like mind and soul ma Mere.... a strange veil has been lifted from my mind and eyes.....and yet, I am afraid!"....
" The contradiction, the hypocrisy, the realization of what seems so good, so right!, and yet, how will this sit with the foundations of our order?"
La mere Marjolaine Valdevendage, stared long and hard , her eyes opening wide as she gazed on the chunk of marble in the basin...drifting off into a distant reverie and murmuring....,"Indeed , ma cher, what shall we do?..."
Just then, both women were jarred out of their tranquility, by a sudden faint rustling sound , coming from the direction of the icon, ... and rushing over to it, Marjolaine then realized she had forgotten to conceal the shuttered peephole on leaving the penitents closet the previous evening.... Whose inner door , just closing as she reached the aperture; peering anxiously into the eyes of the Virgin, .....betrayed the last swish of a disappearing nuns habit, as it shut....disappearing into the scriptorium , and the greater convent beyond... It now seemed more than likely , that their conspiracy of three, had grown already in directions unplanned , inadvertent and unknown...
Marjolaine felt a cool crisp breeze on her face alone, while her body remained enveloped in furs; a soft comforting warmth radiating outwards from her core; a firey core of molten liquidity coupling strange and delightful sensations of a deepest security...as her loins held within her fundament that living gushing goatskin flagon; pulsing re-assuringly,miraculously, inside her...
Down into the frosted valley they sped, their eyes filled with a thousand points of windborn flakes of snow; a stellar speeding past of multifaceted comets and crystalline sparks.
Such was the penultimate degree of sexual transport conveyed to the two earnest women as their communal annealing came to a resounding apotheosis of rhythmic joy and contentment. A transport of the psyche through physical sensations, to realms never visited before in mind or body... Dawn was now upon them, as a golden aurora supplanted the earlier tints of apricot and vermilion...
A rapturous end to the evenings delights came as Marjolaine was assailed a l'arriere, the Satyr assuming 'the way of the Stallion'...( and this, after hours of instruction in 'the ten thousand pleasures of Yoo', 'the way of the Serpent', 'the Forty Eight Frictions'...and the 'Way of the Dog'...)
Heloise , by this time , exhausted...and watching sated, close by, marveled; hypnotised, by the singular beauty of his nether structures, their ruddy inflorescence, wed to that of her Superior...the powerful flexing pump of perineal trottoire , as he filled the Abbess with yet more fountaining seed. Entranced, she watched, the subtle winking of his nether eye, spasmodically opening and closing in time to his jetting contractions, and orgasmic crisis. She gingerly caressed with a free hand, his pendulous jewelery, rising and falling in accord with the movement, noting that each gentle pass of her fingers on his straining sack, drove him into a kind of renewed madness of groaning panic and frantic urgency; involuntary physical hysteria...
Then!...more boldly; she grabbed hold of his swollen balls and gave a gentle tug... a strange thing happened...to her amazement...! his bodily form disappeared altogether!... in a sudden puff of blue mist!
All that remained, half imbedded in the Abbess, was the parian marble relic! l'objet trouver d'hier...! Shocked by this development, Heloise slowly pulled the castrated stonework from the body of the Abbess.... it came away with a cloying sucking sound... slick and steaming with the gleats and dews of primal essences.
Marjolaine, exhaled a final groan of deflating tension, and turning to look at her subordinate, holding the tooled artefact, she too, was amazed and astounded! He was gone, leaving only the sculpted vestige of his divine purpose.
Rapidly coming to their quotidian senses, the two women embraced in an attitude of helpless worry, mingled with fear and stunned amazement.
"Qu' est ce qu'on vas faire Madame Marjolaine?, ma mere Sainte, Dieu Sainte!?"
In tears of joy,. mingled with a mental quickening...dumbfounded, they sought to rationalize without words...the previous events of that night now spent...
Recourse to the cold reality of the wash basin, cambric rags , and dressing in the remains of a cold sweat, at their collusion, now colouring with a burgeoning guilt, ...daylight crept through the casement in the very first beams of a newly risen sun.
Still in a dazed and dreamlike state, they washed the marbled relic in silence. Palpable reverence, mingled with wonderment, conveyed by the careful handling of their fingers was overwrought,precious, apparent and stealthy.
" This unsolders all we have been led to stand for", whispered la mere Marjolaine, ..."I am uplifted, yet torn asunder, at once!"...."How will we countenance this new discovery?"..."Ma cher soeur Heloise, what shall we do indeed!"...... "I am of like mind and soul ma Mere.... a strange veil has been lifted from my mind and eyes.....and yet, I am afraid!"....
" The contradiction, the hypocrisy, the realization of what seems so good, so right!, and yet, how will this sit with the foundations of our order?"
La mere Marjolaine Valdevendage, stared long and hard , her eyes opening wide as she gazed on the chunk of marble in the basin...drifting off into a distant reverie and murmuring....,"Indeed , ma cher, what shall we do?..."
Just then, both women were jarred out of their tranquility, by a sudden faint rustling sound , coming from the direction of the icon, ... and rushing over to it, Marjolaine then realized she had forgotten to conceal the shuttered peephole on leaving the penitents closet the previous evening.... Whose inner door , just closing as she reached the aperture; peering anxiously into the eyes of the Virgin, .....betrayed the last swish of a disappearing nuns habit, as it shut....disappearing into the scriptorium , and the greater convent beyond... It now seemed more than likely , that their conspiracy of three, had grown already in directions unplanned , inadvertent and unknown...
Saturday, 13 November 2010
Temple of the Four Winds: Qu'est ce qu'on vas faire?
Marjolaine floated outwards from her corporeal body; upwards to the ceiling of the chamber...hovered there in a detached , heightened awareness, engaging her, filling her with intense joy and fascination.
He was not the dispassionate lover of ancient lore, nor a rapist or violator. On the contrary, his instinctive restraint at just the right moments; his instinctive force at those junctures he sensed her readiness and expectancy...bore all the hallmarks of the true lover. His finesse, beauty, natural animal grace, the means of his enchantment.
Skilled as he was in the arts of carnal love, yet, also tempered with a capacity for affection and attentiveness, incredible strength, in co-equal measures of gentle patience...that made him ; 'l'amoureux deluxe' of any woman's dreams...It was this loving patience that marked these sublime encounters, elevating them from the merely bestial , one might expect from this enigma of therianthropy.
Transported now to realms hitherto unvisited by her psyche, the Abbess spun outwards into an infinite galaxy of fantastic colours and visions...intense blue violet shades swam in her mind's eye, breaking into roseate tints and scarlet explosions, to ultimately mutate into vivid golds, yellows and oranges...caught up bodily and mentally in the diaphanous webs of a many curtained aurora...billowing up and outwards in a stellar panoply of moving constellations and astral bodies, rotating majestically in the outer ether of infinity.
A glowing white cloud of burning Manganese loomed up from beneath her, and crowning it, resplendent, surrounded by thousands of naked putti...the blessed holy virgin Mary Theotocos,...Queen over 'God', appeared floating in this primal essence as the seraphim sported about her; playing harps and woodwind instruments...behind which rose a burning golden sun disc, ascending out of irridescent mists, white , gold, molten, radiant...gigantic.
Scores of therianthropic deities circulated at random among this great multitude of joyful celebrants...and then, then...Marjolaine found herself, Heloise and the Satyr , seated snugly and warmly, covered in furs of white and silver...on a long toboggan of finest woodcraft...and gradually approaching the precipitous heights of a snow covered mountain...fantastically threaded with Luge and bobsled runs in a complicated tracery....stretching far and away down into a beautiful sunlit vale of snowdrifts....blue, white, purple...enwreathed here and there in wisps of pale vermilion mist...
He was not the dispassionate lover of ancient lore, nor a rapist or violator. On the contrary, his instinctive restraint at just the right moments; his instinctive force at those junctures he sensed her readiness and expectancy...bore all the hallmarks of the true lover. His finesse, beauty, natural animal grace, the means of his enchantment.
Skilled as he was in the arts of carnal love, yet, also tempered with a capacity for affection and attentiveness, incredible strength, in co-equal measures of gentle patience...that made him ; 'l'amoureux deluxe' of any woman's dreams...It was this loving patience that marked these sublime encounters, elevating them from the merely bestial , one might expect from this enigma of therianthropy.
Transported now to realms hitherto unvisited by her psyche, the Abbess spun outwards into an infinite galaxy of fantastic colours and visions...intense blue violet shades swam in her mind's eye, breaking into roseate tints and scarlet explosions, to ultimately mutate into vivid golds, yellows and oranges...caught up bodily and mentally in the diaphanous webs of a many curtained aurora...billowing up and outwards in a stellar panoply of moving constellations and astral bodies, rotating majestically in the outer ether of infinity.
A glowing white cloud of burning Manganese loomed up from beneath her, and crowning it, resplendent, surrounded by thousands of naked putti...the blessed holy virgin Mary Theotocos,...Queen over 'God', appeared floating in this primal essence as the seraphim sported about her; playing harps and woodwind instruments...behind which rose a burning golden sun disc, ascending out of irridescent mists, white , gold, molten, radiant...gigantic.
Scores of therianthropic deities circulated at random among this great multitude of joyful celebrants...and then, then...Marjolaine found herself, Heloise and the Satyr , seated snugly and warmly, covered in furs of white and silver...on a long toboggan of finest woodcraft...and gradually approaching the precipitous heights of a snow covered mountain...fantastically threaded with Luge and bobsled runs in a complicated tracery....stretching far and away down into a beautiful sunlit vale of snowdrifts....blue, white, purple...enwreathed here and there in wisps of pale vermilion mist...
Friday, 12 November 2010
Temple of the Four Winds: d'ou vien le vent? continued...
Abetted by her subordinate, ( whose initial discovery we learned the 'how' of in an earlier installment)... The imbrued Abbess; had taken to the rare old art of Soixante neuf , in the style raffinee a la maniere Francaise...as a bird to flight, a duck to water, or as autumn leaves are blown madly before ones path in fulsome gusts alighting wither and hither they may.... we know not where!
The vigourous lapping, licking and probing of the Satyr's able tongue, teased her Quim , into a frenzied palpitation...extending...minor to major shocks and explosions...reverberating throughout her corpus, ringing within her fundament, like the clapper of one of the great bells of Notre Dame...like the beating of the wings of the ringdove in startled escape, like the pounding of the surf from a many crested sea....like the distant rumble of summer thunder.
The initial intensity of the activity, was so great a shock to her hitherto sleeping sensibilities, that she temporarily ceased her loving tendresse to his equipage, only to cry out with unbridled JOY!, at this delightful and profoundly moving new sensation; peppering her loins with delicious tremors and ructions , never felt before...
Continuing her dentilingual ministrations to his prepuce and elegant lacing, and gradually learning to tease that crucial arrow like design (pointing as it does, ) clearly, to his charmed urethral slit, ...oozing silvery dews...the Abbess worked like an indentured slave to achieve the orgasmic state of jouissance they all sensed was now imminent...
Wonderously,for the women; these ecstatic transports came in waves of pleasure that swizzled aout their nipples and nates in gleeful scatterings of ongoing sensation unending...like a rumbling, tumbling, series of rolling quakes and aftershocks.
Heloise made way for their intensities, by letting them take over the cot, and kneeling in a caressing ancillary capacity at its side, urged them on....
With the deft and powerful agility of an athlete, the satyr spun her about to a position prone beneath him, as she instinctively straddled his neck, ...and so placing the backs of her knees on his powerful shoulders; slick with the sheen of dripping salt...
He skillfully teased her trottoir and portals, with the mitred rock of his marbled spear, lingeringly temptingly about the tingling labia , desperately cloying outwards like a fleshy grasping beak....until any and all of her last restraint was gone... and until , finally, unable to bear the agony of absence longer...she wriggled and manoeuvred her undulant steaming socket with a simultaneous circular writhing of her pelvic girdle...at last and finally with much urgency and gnashing of teeth, engulfing its whole about the threaded perfection of his flaming bulb entire...
The vigourous lapping, licking and probing of the Satyr's able tongue, teased her Quim , into a frenzied palpitation...extending...minor to major shocks and explosions...reverberating throughout her corpus, ringing within her fundament, like the clapper of one of the great bells of Notre Dame...like the beating of the wings of the ringdove in startled escape, like the pounding of the surf from a many crested sea....like the distant rumble of summer thunder.
The initial intensity of the activity, was so great a shock to her hitherto sleeping sensibilities, that she temporarily ceased her loving tendresse to his equipage, only to cry out with unbridled JOY!, at this delightful and profoundly moving new sensation; peppering her loins with delicious tremors and ructions , never felt before...
Continuing her dentilingual ministrations to his prepuce and elegant lacing, and gradually learning to tease that crucial arrow like design (pointing as it does, ) clearly, to his charmed urethral slit, ...oozing silvery dews...the Abbess worked like an indentured slave to achieve the orgasmic state of jouissance they all sensed was now imminent...
Wonderously,for the women; these ecstatic transports came in waves of pleasure that swizzled aout their nipples and nates in gleeful scatterings of ongoing sensation unending...like a rumbling, tumbling, series of rolling quakes and aftershocks.
Heloise made way for their intensities, by letting them take over the cot, and kneeling in a caressing ancillary capacity at its side, urged them on....
With the deft and powerful agility of an athlete, the satyr spun her about to a position prone beneath him, as she instinctively straddled his neck, ...and so placing the backs of her knees on his powerful shoulders; slick with the sheen of dripping salt...
He skillfully teased her trottoir and portals, with the mitred rock of his marbled spear, lingeringly temptingly about the tingling labia , desperately cloying outwards like a fleshy grasping beak....until any and all of her last restraint was gone... and until , finally, unable to bear the agony of absence longer...she wriggled and manoeuvred her undulant steaming socket with a simultaneous circular writhing of her pelvic girdle...at last and finally with much urgency and gnashing of teeth, engulfing its whole about the threaded perfection of his flaming bulb entire...
Temple of the Four Winds: d'ou vien le vent?
The night wore on apace as the winds increased, the sickle moon riding to westward , followed by a gradual distant glow of faintest apricot.
In a lurid light, filtered thru crepuscular haze, the cell of Heloise continued to resound with the orgiastic wailings, grunts and trials of a threesome in extremis.
Our good and godly brother Rabelais, could not have delineated a lustier scene...; the ongoing annealing of the Abbess....
In a lurid light, filtered thru crepuscular haze, the cell of Heloise continued to resound with the orgiastic wailings, grunts and trials of a threesome in extremis.
Our good and godly brother Rabelais, could not have delineated a lustier scene...; the ongoing annealing of the Abbess....
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Temple of the Four Winds: Triade Menage a Marjolaine
Cosmologie, primal desire, cause and effect, useen inexorable forces, concealment, revelation, centuries of denial in terms of the body. Endless attempts in numerous cultures to sublime the random yet ordered chaos of the natural world into a prescribed order or hierarchical taxonomy...suddenly, madly, blown away in a fire storm of physical sensation.
The mind of Mere Marjolaine reeled wildy through the electrical ether whirling about her. She balked inwardly, in sudden jolts of high anxiety and revolt at the strangely beguiling sacrilege she now contemplated; and was now implicated in.
The sacerdotal devotions of the order, the long years of celibacy, chastity: vows not lightly taken, or endured over time...negating every form of possible temptation, that may have presented itself,....( but never had), until now.
Part of her still wanted to flee, but she remained frozen, congeler...as in a waking dream, where the charmed neophyte is held in hypnotic thrall to , ( in this case)... a loving demon , in form at least...contradiction abounding along with the undeniable elements of the miraculous!
How could the living stone manifest in flesh!? in so vital, enchanting a form?
If the resurrection of Christ was gospel...could this aberration not also be? Walking on the water? Miraculous draught of fishes? The raising of Lazarus? The immaculate conception? The burning bush?
The female body; life giving vessel, engendering new life and the ongoing preservation of the primal basis for humanity? How could all this be? Exist? If indeed it did...Was not the actual physical proof of the organs of the senses enough to attest the verity of any manifestation, whether it be that of the old testament , or indeed , of what was now actually taking place before her dazzled eyes?
Was she living a fable,? a conjurer's trick? A mirage of obscure and dangerous origin? a haunting....a nightmare?
The presence of Heloise, seated calmly , wide eyed on her cot...gave credence to the unreal, awkward unfolding scenario...the Satyr held out his hands to her, beckoning...Marjolaine gazed at his throbbing member...she had never seen such a sight before, strangely beautiful, grotesque at once...in a sudden uncontollable lunge forward...she fell to her knees at his feet...
Clutching his muscular calves, ...as a small child clings to a parent and looking up at his splendidly forshortened torso, plunged her nose and mouth wildly and relentlessly nuzzling into his testicular scrotal sacerdotal in total!!
Joyously breathing in the musky scent of his spunk-filled demi-johns; suddenly tainted and drunk with the intoxicating fragrance of his manhood, she instinctively began to fellate his regal sceptre without any need of coaxing or instruction from it's owner!
With all the innate skill and exuberant alacrity of a seasoned and talented cockstress, she devoured the engorged member, surprising herself as to the joyful ease with which she assayed the earthly task.
"Oh ma Mere!!"- , moaned the Myrmidon..." Oh ma Mere, !! dieu Sainte!!! maudzie!!!, gasped Heloise from the cot-... in tones of astonished delight mingled with awe!
"Ubf,! fup! Skwumpf!< Fump! - slurp-, gurrg, GURP! SMACK!" , groaned the Abbess undecorously... and not breaking her oral contact with his fascinum, - the Satyr lifted her bodily, the enthralled gorging Abbess;- right off the ground- and upending her , likewise , bodily...planting his eager face in the smouldering nest of her burning bush... now sparking into a fully blown forest fire!; a conflagration unconfined , savage , wild , out of control , and bent on engulfing them all!
The mind of Mere Marjolaine reeled wildy through the electrical ether whirling about her. She balked inwardly, in sudden jolts of high anxiety and revolt at the strangely beguiling sacrilege she now contemplated; and was now implicated in.
The sacerdotal devotions of the order, the long years of celibacy, chastity: vows not lightly taken, or endured over time...negating every form of possible temptation, that may have presented itself,....( but never had), until now.
Part of her still wanted to flee, but she remained frozen, congeler...as in a waking dream, where the charmed neophyte is held in hypnotic thrall to , ( in this case)... a loving demon , in form at least...contradiction abounding along with the undeniable elements of the miraculous!
How could the living stone manifest in flesh!? in so vital, enchanting a form?
If the resurrection of Christ was gospel...could this aberration not also be? Walking on the water? Miraculous draught of fishes? The raising of Lazarus? The immaculate conception? The burning bush?
The female body; life giving vessel, engendering new life and the ongoing preservation of the primal basis for humanity? How could all this be? Exist? If indeed it did...Was not the actual physical proof of the organs of the senses enough to attest the verity of any manifestation, whether it be that of the old testament , or indeed , of what was now actually taking place before her dazzled eyes?
Was she living a fable,? a conjurer's trick? A mirage of obscure and dangerous origin? a haunting....a nightmare?
The presence of Heloise, seated calmly , wide eyed on her cot...gave credence to the unreal, awkward unfolding scenario...the Satyr held out his hands to her, beckoning...Marjolaine gazed at his throbbing member...she had never seen such a sight before, strangely beautiful, grotesque at once...in a sudden uncontollable lunge forward...she fell to her knees at his feet...
Clutching his muscular calves, ...as a small child clings to a parent and looking up at his splendidly forshortened torso, plunged her nose and mouth wildly and relentlessly nuzzling into his testicular scrotal sacerdotal in total!!
Joyously breathing in the musky scent of his spunk-filled demi-johns; suddenly tainted and drunk with the intoxicating fragrance of his manhood, she instinctively began to fellate his regal sceptre without any need of coaxing or instruction from it's owner!
With all the innate skill and exuberant alacrity of a seasoned and talented cockstress, she devoured the engorged member, surprising herself as to the joyful ease with which she assayed the earthly task.
"Oh ma Mere!!"- , moaned the Myrmidon..." Oh ma Mere, !! dieu Sainte!!! maudzie!!!, gasped Heloise from the cot-... in tones of astonished delight mingled with awe!
"Ubf,! fup! Skwumpf!< Fump! - slurp-, gurrg, GURP! SMACK!" , groaned the Abbess undecorously... and not breaking her oral contact with his fascinum, - the Satyr lifted her bodily, the enthralled gorging Abbess;- right off the ground- and upending her , likewise , bodily...planting his eager face in the smouldering nest of her burning bush... now sparking into a fully blown forest fire!; a conflagration unconfined , savage , wild , out of control , and bent on engulfing them all!
Friday, 5 November 2010
Temple of the Four Winds: Rendezvous a la Triade cont'
How could it be? for example...that the very organs capable of 'miraculously' , bringing forth new life, also be those self same organs through which waste liquids were disposed of , by the human race entire? How could so much delight, and wonderment exist so close to , and hard by, so much that was disgusting and distasteful and immoral? By virtue of wanton actions uncontrolled?
As for the sisterhood?... the vows of chastity?...the 'brides of christ'?, the devotional life to the cross, the virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, and the almighty Holy Father and Holy Ghost? ...were those concepts in any way fantastical?? How could this be? Was this some terrible dream? some horrid phantasy?...how could this derisory mythos , this anathema;... a fairytale of pagan origin...by virtue of it's manifestation as either dream, or physical reality, sit as antithesis...( illustrative , yea, even as it was...), ; of the basest undeniable urges as expounded through the mysteries of physical or spiritual desire in humanity... yet exist and , yet, not give something of the lie , the mensonge, to what the good sisters of la Couvent de la Sang Precieux had held up for centuries as 'the way', and 'the life', and expedient to the goodly preparation for the rapture ; and kindom come in the hereafter for all eternity...
Marjolaine, told herself she was dreaming, this was not real, this was indeed a fantasy she would soon wake from... how could a young man's legs taper downwards to end in the hooves of a Satyr, a goat, a horse, a DEVIL!...that was it!, 'The Devil had a hand in this she thought....'
Yet, somehow, the Chimera would not dissolve, she couldn't awake from this reverie...as eyes wide open, met eyes in an electrical melding of blue and green light!... Staining! as it were, each others field of vision in a direct and irrevocable process, a welding of atomic particles, an arklight of sensation.
Long beams of light!, perfectly arrayed, extended outwards from the eyes of the Satyr...finding their mark in the apertured eyes of the painted Virgin...out of which flickered a complementary hot blue light...piercing in kind, the cell of Heloise with laserlike accuracy.
The molten wedding of this coloured fire, rays meeting rays , gaze into gaze...not unlike the the sort oft seen on November nights in bogs or reedbeds forsaken, ...feared; ( yet enticing ), to the wearied traveller in wildered woods...this 'holy' light of 'divine', (yet uncanny) origin... transfixed the Abbess to the Satyr, ...and he smiled that smile...beguiling, a healing balm, a benison: that smile ; somehow conveying the knowledge of the universe, strangely exciting, yet not without a degree of apprehension and awe contained therein.
This contradiction, and contradictory state of psychic awareness, heightening, enveloping the Abbess, Heloise and the Satyr as a new 'trinity'....( of a kind ), logical only unto itself...
"Vien dedans", "vien dedans cher Marjolaine", he intoned at last..."Vien dedans"...
The sound of her own name coupled with the invitation to join them had a hypnotic effect....and , immediately, reverently, with an obeisance ingrained through years of veneration of the 'Divina Ultima', the almighty...the abbess accordingly, did as she was bid, swiftly, in a trance, left the library...and in a trice, stood like a glowing regal caryatid in the musk imbued chamber of Heloise.
In rapt attention, her fullsome breasts thrilled to her own heart's drumbeat increasing, bathed in moonlight... Obediently and patiently awaiting her inculcation, instruction as the hoped for enlightened release from the onerous and weighty, dowdy strictures of their order...and order for which; ( both earnest women held an undying devotional love for)...,but which, now seemed somehow pale and distant in the scheme of things, thus confronted, with the actuality of so stellar and seductive an apparition.
Marjolaine felt compelled to leave her body, despite herself...abandoning all reason...to feel for the first time, this new re-union with her corporeal sensibility through simultaneous disengagement ... to rejoin it;...to feel for the first time in her life, as never before , a woman in her prime under the spell of her own magic in the physical and spiritual sense, as awakened and goaded by this otherworldly vision.
As for the sisterhood?... the vows of chastity?...the 'brides of christ'?, the devotional life to the cross, the virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, and the almighty Holy Father and Holy Ghost? ...were those concepts in any way fantastical?? How could this be? Was this some terrible dream? some horrid phantasy?...how could this derisory mythos , this anathema;... a fairytale of pagan origin...by virtue of it's manifestation as either dream, or physical reality, sit as antithesis...( illustrative , yea, even as it was...), ; of the basest undeniable urges as expounded through the mysteries of physical or spiritual desire in humanity... yet exist and , yet, not give something of the lie , the mensonge, to what the good sisters of la Couvent de la Sang Precieux had held up for centuries as 'the way', and 'the life', and expedient to the goodly preparation for the rapture ; and kindom come in the hereafter for all eternity...
Marjolaine, told herself she was dreaming, this was not real, this was indeed a fantasy she would soon wake from... how could a young man's legs taper downwards to end in the hooves of a Satyr, a goat, a horse, a DEVIL!...that was it!, 'The Devil had a hand in this she thought....'
Yet, somehow, the Chimera would not dissolve, she couldn't awake from this reverie...as eyes wide open, met eyes in an electrical melding of blue and green light!... Staining! as it were, each others field of vision in a direct and irrevocable process, a welding of atomic particles, an arklight of sensation.
Long beams of light!, perfectly arrayed, extended outwards from the eyes of the Satyr...finding their mark in the apertured eyes of the painted Virgin...out of which flickered a complementary hot blue light...piercing in kind, the cell of Heloise with laserlike accuracy.
The molten wedding of this coloured fire, rays meeting rays , gaze into gaze...not unlike the the sort oft seen on November nights in bogs or reedbeds forsaken, ...feared; ( yet enticing ), to the wearied traveller in wildered woods...this 'holy' light of 'divine', (yet uncanny) origin... transfixed the Abbess to the Satyr, ...and he smiled that smile...beguiling, a healing balm, a benison: that smile ; somehow conveying the knowledge of the universe, strangely exciting, yet not without a degree of apprehension and awe contained therein.
This contradiction, and contradictory state of psychic awareness, heightening, enveloping the Abbess, Heloise and the Satyr as a new 'trinity'....( of a kind ), logical only unto itself...
"Vien dedans", "vien dedans cher Marjolaine", he intoned at last..."Vien dedans"...
The sound of her own name coupled with the invitation to join them had a hypnotic effect....and , immediately, reverently, with an obeisance ingrained through years of veneration of the 'Divina Ultima', the almighty...the abbess accordingly, did as she was bid, swiftly, in a trance, left the library...and in a trice, stood like a glowing regal caryatid in the musk imbued chamber of Heloise.
In rapt attention, her fullsome breasts thrilled to her own heart's drumbeat increasing, bathed in moonlight... Obediently and patiently awaiting her inculcation, instruction as the hoped for enlightened release from the onerous and weighty, dowdy strictures of their order...and order for which; ( both earnest women held an undying devotional love for)...,but which, now seemed somehow pale and distant in the scheme of things, thus confronted, with the actuality of so stellar and seductive an apparition.
Marjolaine felt compelled to leave her body, despite herself...abandoning all reason...to feel for the first time, this new re-union with her corporeal sensibility through simultaneous disengagement ... to rejoin it;...to feel for the first time in her life, as never before , a woman in her prime under the spell of her own magic in the physical and spiritual sense, as awakened and goaded by this otherworldly vision.
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