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...

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...

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...

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....

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!

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.

Temple of the Four Winds; Rendezvous a la Triade.

This eye to eye contact, this electrical visual current, this first moment of recognition, this imposed learned self realization of immediate 'culpability'....
Where the ' act of looking '., at the occurence of a 'physical blasphemy' , so blatantly at odds with the purity of moral fibre as expounded by the most basic and central tenets of the church... manifested... what of?... for example...,
'Immaculate conception'? , or of the 'Virgin Birth'?...held up as gospel truth; not a fairy tale , or a fantastical narrative or fablieaux... Even in it's eschewing the factual physicality and rigour, and vigour of generative procreative biological sexuality...the simplest mechanics of which: had provoked a degree of denial over centuries...how could it be?.... a suivi...

Temple of the Four Winds: Oneiromancy/Demanteler/Faim/Desir.

A pair of blue eyes hover in the darkness, floating before the gaze of the viewer in a nimbus of purple mist, starshot vapour and nocturnal undulation.
Eyes of such a hue of blue: mere words could not easily describe...
Was it that of the type called Monestial? Helio? Ultramarine?...or fading, to hues more closely related to Cerulean Greys, Buff King's or Cobalt?... the Smalts, newly crushed at midnight, giving the tints to a region somewhere between Chrysocolla, Bleu de Turque, or Indanthrene unending, as it were... for it's hints of palest Mauve de Gris, or dusted rampant Indigo?
Who can say?... Only you, dear reader, can give an astute interpretive appraisal of this ocular chromatic discourse. The subtle imaginative distinctions wrought by the 'mind's eyes'...freely held , available to us all.... Who can say?

Maternal concern? worry ? , fear?... or a dull and distant repetitive thud, awoke la Mere Marjolaine Valdevendage...roused from a fitful dream...involving in equal parts: unseen menace...and soaring flight.

The Abbess rose, and clad herself in a woolen nightgown lined with finest Vair... Her bedchamber gave onto the convent library and scriptorium; a vast tresure house of precious texts illuminated on Velin de Chevre...rows of shelves housing powders, pigments, brushes, stylus, rare unguents and inks. The library in turn, gave onto the cell of Soeur Heloise; (who, as Sacristan, held an office and a chamber, uniquely separate from the rest of the sisterhood).

Our Soeur Heloise? Whom we recall, ... was now engulfed, in the principal heat of a torrid coupling with her phantom redeemer.

Closeted in the library's eastern wall, was a small vestibule, used in earlier times for the occasional sequestration of penitent novitiates. Now seldom if ever needed under the congenial stewardship of la good Mere Marjolaine; well known and loved as the redoubtable head of the order.; born under Libra...balance, fairness and harmony, were the hallmarks of her implementation. ,she fostered a happy obedience, and reverent warmth in all her subordinates. With no streak of meanness, or covert agenda in her nature, Marjolaine had risen through the ecclesiastical ranks swiftly, and in so charmed and natural a progression; nothing bad could be said of her. All her actions, stemming as it were, from a real desire to do God's work, to do good and to be good, and so guiding the convent through any adversity that might befall it...( although none ever had in the entire twenty five years of her office within it)...

Still, whatever had disturbed her sleep prompted her to investigate, and establishing that the steady thud came from the general vicinity of the library, she made her way through the darkness with a lit taper.

Gaining entrance to the Scriptorium, it became clear to her hearing that the sound increased near the old penitent's closet. Noiselessly entering, this small chamber, she availed herself of it's peepholes., thinly covered by a small framed shuttering covered in gauze. Two small holes, placed at calculated intervals, befit perfectly those two blue eyes that hovered in darkness.

Yet, now they met with a new light,... from another realm entirely. Though cunningly occulted, by the minuteness of the apertures, her righteous gaze had definite access directly into the private cell of Soeur Heloise from this unseen vantage. In tandem wtih the two holes on the penitent's side of the wall, were the two corresponding, finely painted eyes of Notre Dame de Grace; le Sainte Vierge sacree...Marie Reine du Monde...benignly and lovingly gazing out from the wall mounted Icon in the cell of the Sacristan. Through the two pupils of which, the enravished, enraptured animal rutting of Heloise and the living sculpture made flesh....struck the gaze of the Abbess...with a silent inward Jolt! (The initial visual and psychic shock of the sight, causing her instictively to at first, draw backwards suddenly, and potentially betraying her presence to the engaged couple by knocking into the paneling behind her).

Fascination, mixed with an astounded horror took hold of her, however, and mesmerised, she regained her breath and stealed herself to her mission of inquiry as those two blue eyes felt the magnetic tug and pull back, back, to the visionary holes behind the gauze.

There, in the half light of Moon and oil lamp; flickering and glistening with sweat; the mighty thrusting thews and nates of the satyr beat an unrelenting strophe into the welcoming fundament of the enraptured Heloise....; whose radiant face was lit up with what could only be described , as an ecstatic expression of pure joy and transcendental satiation. Gratified full, glutted in the jovial transports of erotic bliss! but wanting more!, not less, of the same wondrous physical and mental sensations combined...stemming from the delicious frictions and vibrations engendered by the skilled and varied artful pistoning of his hot fleshy engine within her. Continually finding , a multiplicity of orgasmic crisis in waves of seismic pleasure, radiating through her entire form, from head to toe tip, and finally, freeing her for the second time, in many a long decade, from the dreary penitence of her former now colourless, existence.

But, if the inner and outer eyes of Soeur Heloise were opened for the first time to this manifest wonderment...how so , did this effect the eyes and psyche of our good mother the Abbess? Who, now despite herself, riveted to the spot...her eyes devouring with terrible fascination...the unreal tableau vivant of Satyriasis now taking place in real time, before her disbelieving eyes....yes, those blue eyes celestial and pure of gaze....in the frame of a pure heart, seeking only the good, only harmony and righteousness....Now forced into the role of secret Voyeuse...conflicted with a paranoia of a self or socially imposed guilt over the simple act of looking. Looking of course, surely, only vis a vis the premise of concern and empathy, to gain knowledge, for what she had hitherto seen as the sudden illness of the convalescing nun.

The staggering ramifications!...of what she was now witnessing , simultaneously revolted her and compelled her at once! Compelled her, (though deeply conflicted)....to continue to look, to gaze, to spy, to devour , to take in, to ascertain....yea! to experience! , if only vicariously and without detection,. the total physical abandonment to basic natural animal urges, and the psycho/sexual release of one of her principal subjects...namely, Heloise. Who, was now lovingly kissing and being kissed and fondled by the attentive langours of her lover.

Marjolaine watched rapt, as he freely and lovingly tongued her labia and clitoral inflorescence to ever higher clifftops of orgiastic transport! and subsequent return!
What did all this mean? for the Convent? the sisterhood? the general body of the Holy Roman Church entire?.... not to mention the respectful following of the laity, the flock, the unwashed, the infidel!?

Did this point to a new hypocrisy? could such a transgression as this ever be forgiven by almighty God? Jesus Christ and la Vierge Sacree together?

By this time the Abbess had extinguished her taper to avoid any detection ,and also to increase the intensity of her vision by virtue of having relegated the only source of light to that of the cell of Heloise. She continued to watch, but felt warm, indeed hot, in the small confines of her sequestration....entranced as she was, by the adamantine hardness of the magnificent Fascinum of the beautiful beast before her!....throbbing and bobbing to his heart beat... and against all her vows and beliefs hitherto held in the purest faith... she presently felt the initial pangs of a mysterious want and desire....the first subtle rumblings deep within her body and soul, as effected through those pure blue eyes of an indescribable hue...

Helplessly, hypnotized, she gingerly fingered her own hardening nipples, pinching and rubbing their engorged aureate ends, ...breasts that had never known the suckling of an infant , or the slobbering kisses of an ardent lover. Letting her warming cloak, too hot! of wool and vair , now fall to the floor of the closet...she stood completely ungarmented, statuesque and radiant in her own animal beauty, a woman in her forties...physically aroused, gripped by what seemed an 'un natural' natural longing, never felt before...and this too, came mixed with strange pangs of jealousy, envy,.... cupidity and covetousness....she too, longed for the miraculous plaything so freely enjoyed by Heloise, she too, desired to feel, to live, to expire, Yea! at the bodily ministrations of the wanton Satyr... simultaneously, now aghast and revolted at her own feelings and anxiety, she rubbed, kneaded and teased her own labia and vulvic mound with the end of the unlit but smoothly warmed taper...and by turns, began to penetrate herself with it's blunt end, shuddering and shivering in pulsing nervous contractions as she did so.... all the while , holding the fixity of her inquiring gaze on the ongoing lavish scene conubial now unfolding in the dimly lit cell next to hers. Unable to control the first full blown eruptions of her own crisis , she let out a gasping groan of ectatic pleasure, which at this point , was heard by the two inmates she spied on.... in a newly inflicted attitude of horrific realization to her psyche and awareness, her desire still, outweighed the realization of her presence as discovered by Heloise and her assailant.......He rose from the cot and immediately turned his penetrating glance towards the painted icon of the blessed Virgin.........

Temple of the Four Winds; Incubus Incarnacula

Astounded to find the marbled tool strangely warm to the touch; and still in a seers trance unimpeded by conscious intent...Heloise brandished the temple relic with an attitude approaching extreme religious veneration.
She first determined to wash the article in a basin, freshly replenished by her nurses. Thus, all residue of earth, came away from the sculpture with careful ease, and the stone gleamed ; a new luminescence in her hands.
Now, with a somewhat restrained hysteria in her whole demeanour, she returned to her cot, cradling the thing in her bosom, as any child would covet a favourite toy. An inward glee took hold of her psyche, as she recalled with extreme delight, the pastoral interludes of the previous day. She began to fondle and kiss the treasured object, running her fingers up and down the smoothness of it's shaft. Noting, with awe...the finely wrought veins & incidental attributes that the artist had so convincingly rendered to inform any handler, (in no uncertain terms)...as to the form and function of this most crucially ubiquitous organ; a prime raison d'etre of all humanity.

Conjuring as she did this; the lovely visage and tumbling ringlets of her physical redeemer...his hot green eyes floated before her, imbuing her brain with a matchless warmth of spiritual awakening...she ran and rubbed the warm stone up and down her abdomen, clutching and pinching her reddening nipples as she did so... and thus, at last, approaching the furry tumulus of her own female sex, extreme longing gripped her once more;...that divine madness, as spoken of by the Thalian muse...blooming wildly as do green shoots in spring....Swept! our heroine away in delicious transports of sensual bliss.

She began to tease her labial entrance with the mitred addendum of this most singular tool...a searing heat!...singed through her convulsing fundament, causing a vapourous steam to encircle her nether regions;...and all at once! ...as if by supernatural agency...the rod was rent from her fingers and entered her with a sudden and impetuous fury!...A force! having the combined effect of her two eyes nearly starting from their sockets...and a sharp intake of breath...as if a gust of wind had assailed her in a clifftop tempest filling every spare region of her organism with a bracing tonic!
To her combined joy and amazement, the relic had all at once been returned to it's rightful owner, and the skilled coxswain, once more took charge of his craft....the marvellous Pan of her Epiphany...lay on top of her entire.... a living mass of youthful muscular energy- already in a lather of sweat and musky gleat....This delightful Incubus...with no other desire but to serve and to quench the extreme thirst of physical longing that had grown festering within her over decades of denial and ignorance...was now incarnate, fully formed, and actively engaged to her alone, in the private confines of her humble apartment.

Temple of the Four Winds; La reve d'Heloise

La Vielle Soeur Agathe, : autrefois, Madame Eugenie Agathe de Noirceuil, was no stranger to adversity. Having once known the pleasures of domestic connubial bliss as a married woman and mother of four.
An outbreak of plague had taken all her children & her husband, when she was but thirty years of age... This tragedy marked her for life,from that time onwards; effecting a cathartic devotional impetus to take orders as a sister of mercy.
Her tenure, well known, now over forty years in 'La Couvent de la Sang Precieux', as an exemplary votaress of the order., her long years of service were imbued with an innate compassion, warmth and sense of a selfless generosity towards her sorority and accolytes.
All who knew her, admired her quiet strength, personal fortitude and intellectual wisdom.
Skilled as a talented paintress, herbalist and medic... La Mere Marjolaine Valdevendage, held her in the highest regard, treasuring her presence in the convent as a pillar of strength, tireless worker, and teacher.

Sitting quietly and attentively at the bedside of Soeur Heloise , she embroidered a sampler, ( whose design ); a scene from the life of Ste. Genevieve...had occupied her hands in the evenings for some weeks now. The candles guttered as she worked the needles nimbly with aged fingers still deft. Careful, loving and attentive to every task she turned her hand to, she was the very picture of grandmotherly warmth...and nursemaid to the sleeping Heloise; whose ordeal earlier that evening had so alarmed them all.

The shadowy blue glow on the occluded orb , of a new sickle moon waxing, road the gently scudding drifts of whispering vernal stratus, beyond the open casement.
Heloise slept soundly , in peace, unaware of her guardians presence. In deep slumber, gentle fancies made a shadow lantern panorama across the minds eye of her meandering psyche. The threads of her thought wandered slow and aimless, like that of an ancient river, taking its wanton way; with oxbow lakes, moraines and eskers...and floating within it; were the dispparate elements of a mind oer wrought.

Here came gliding by her absurdly, a cow, wearing lunettes and knitting a shawl! Next came a silver boat, of subtle design, driven on by numerous tritons blowing into shelled horns & whistles of hollowed antler. They swam before her nimbly piloting the craft from the water with powerful thrusts of fins and tails. In the boat sat the blessed Virgin resplendent and surrounded by attendants...among these, were several angels with multicoloured iridescent wings, playing various musical instruments...there she sat smiling in her double crowned attribute as both ,"Mary Queen of The World", and the godess, "Venus Aphrodite"... beside her, an angel with long red ringlets, falling to his knees, dressed her hair with a comb, finely wrought of blue coral. A playful cupid, gingerly painted each of her well formed aureate nipples with rouge d'alkanet, while lastly a muscular young blackamoor, applied a powderpuff to the carefully manicured fringe of her golden queynte.

The muscles of this ebony Myrmidon, rippled visibly under the sultry sheen of strange oils and scented unguents. He stood perfectly nude; like a living Etruscan Bronze...and coyly, removing a golden cestus from the loins of his mistress; threw it into the hands of the waiting Heloise ,with a beaming smile.
Following attentively, this extraordinary tableaux vivant, her reverie continued in this vein...,but to even stranger phantoms appearing... Yet., despite the outlandish nature of her minds contrivances, throughout she observed it all dispassionately and with a mild internalized amusement. As if all that came before her was "right", "normal", and just as it should be. Nothing shocked or surprised her, and thus, the outward appearance of her benign,restful countenance did not betray any cause for concern or alarm on the part of Soeur Agathe..., who now yawning, ( as the clock had struck the half hour past midnight), ...decided to make her departure in silence. So blessing her sleeping patient, crossing herself , she gathered her accoutrements and rustled gently from the cell.
Heloise, was alone...
Alone with her burgeoning dream of a gradually swelling river. A school of smiling dolphins followed the silver boat of Venus...Behind this, 'hove a dusky barge', lit with firey braziers and torches, drums of a primitive, insistant cadence beat wildly. On the barge stood twenty hoplite warriors, crossgartered in kid, with breastplates, greaves and cuisses...but as was their wont,...nude below the waist... oil and sweat glistened on their mighty thews, ...their stalwart and finely tooled equipage stood fully erect in the dancing firelight and darting shadowplay. Each proud spear rose manfully & with obscure artistry, from a tightly knit copse brush; (varying in hue, from pure gold, to rufous red, to deepest ivory black). ....Heloise, had never seen such a delightful display, ( she marvelled inwardly ).... Behind this pulsing platoon, forming as it were a parapet of first defense around the edge of the craft... an orgiastic dance was in full throttle, joyful maidens and hoydens, entirely as nature had made them with fulsome breasts and hips; clothed only in sprays of jasmine and gardenia, disported themselves in abandon, cavorting and gyrating among showering clouds of fragrant rose petals and essence of frangipani.
In the centre of this firey barge stood a raised dais, upon which the resplendant Pan of her earlier epiphany at the Temple of the four winds...coupled in the full force of his amorous crisis with an ecstatic Maenad of unfathomable beauty. Radiantly ensconced on his fascinum, like a fallen star exploding... the Maenad rode the mast, with a look of exultant joy on her glowing visage.
Heloise bore this almost affront with not the slightest pang of jealousy, despite the fact that her erstwhile 'lover', had been totally taken up by this new conquest.
The drums beat wildly, Heloise became aroused in a tremulous state of soporific torpor...her fundament awakened to the earth pulse of her vulvic mound. Her engorged clitoris began to throb rhythmically to the ancient atavistic tremelo with a primal insistence undeniable.
Flashing in ecstatic recollection of that first bolt of erotic lightning that had struck her to her very core, the previous day...when the Ithyphallic Pan first cleaved her asunder with his molten fascinum of turgid hot Parian.

In a somnambulists trance of supernatural agency..., Heloise rose from her cot with an ineffable urgency driven on by the seductive phantoms of her ongoing reverie unbroken.
Reaching the fastness of her locked reliquary , into which she had yesterday, secreted the talismanic artefact, brought from the temple.... in joyful transports she grasped with both hands the marble fascinum from its hiding place....

Temple of the Four Winds: Continued

Still reeling from the visual shock of an almost slapstick disruption to the ritual of the Eucharist; Mere Marjolaine Valdevendage, Vielle soeur Agathe and soeur Ursule, conferred in measured tones and whispers over the welfare of our poor soeur Heloise, so suddenly taken ill.
The three conjectured as to what could have wrought this change...La Mere Superieure fingered her rosary beads pensively, as if counting each bead by touch alone, subconsciously distracted and with a distant, cold, intense gaze in her lucid light greyblue eyes.
Sunstroke?, food poisoning?, some stomach upset or bug from the meal...or all three? No one quite knew. They pondered the possibities in turn, while it was agreed that soeur Agathe would minister to soeur Heloise in her need and share the nursing at intervals with the help of two novices, Eulalie Durochers and Annette Paradis.
Mademoiselle Eulalie and Mme Annette had been left with the feverish Heloise, soeur Agathe had prepared a tissane de Chamomile et Angelique to settle her stomach and the two novices watched over their elder sister in dutiful silence. Presently, soeur Agathe left her colleagues a causette intime, and returned to the cell of soeur Heloise..."Eulalie, Annette...how does she fare?", inquired the good natured and wise old nun quietly entering with a rustling swish of her habit and cape. Gently patting a fevered brow, and crossing herself devoutly...Mme Eulalie was a beautiful young woman of eighteen. Her large almond shaped eyes and full lips; set over a slight overbite, large dark brows and long lashes gave her a sultry look of pouting beauty. A strange upward lift, in her left eyebrow, implied: permanent inquiry, her innocent gaze, open and questioning without guile or any coarseness.
Annette Paradis, by contrast was fair and rosy, a charming sparking sort of girl, whose twinkling blue eyes belied a playful optimism, which despite herself, she applied willfully in all that she said or did...an earnest desire to please and be pleased. In fact, an outsider would, upon first seeing these two, ask of him or herself. why oh why? did two such young girls waste their natural charms in such a place as La Couvent de la Sang Precieux?
"She sleeps quietly now ma cher soeur Agathe"...offered Eulalie..."Yes, but occasionally mumbles in her sleep"...joined Annette..." She drank little of the tissane earlier, but then, had a great thirst, and wanted all of it , as if parched..."
The aged nun knit her brow and stroked her chin as would a man..."Mmm it must be sunstroke and a drouthe from her sunburn"..."Leave me with her now mes filles, ...allez allez, you have done very well in your assistance, off now to your beds, we have a busy day in the garden tomorrow"...Each sweet girl was kissed on the forehead in turn by the kind old guardian, they curtseyed lightly, kissed her signet ring, crossed themselves reverently, and then vanished like birds in Autumn...