In the Temple of Gar the Desecrator

I did not even realize that once more I had completely forgotten the perils by which I was beset. My bewitchment was complete, and I had fallen under its spell to a degree that left no hope of escape. All I knew in that hour was desire, consumed as I was by my lust, which once again soared to great heights.

I tried to reach out to her, but found my arms too heavy to move. Clearly my recent exertions, intensely pleasurable as they had been, had not been without consequence. Never before had I felt so heavy, never before had my limbs been so reluctant to move. It was as if a sudden case of rheumatism had seized my joints, although I felt no pain or other discomfort. Whatever the cause, it left my extremities as stiff and rigid as was my manhood.

For rigid indeed the latter was, and as she took it in her hand my flesh was as hard as steel under her touch. She put the tip of my rod against the entrance of her sex and began to lower herself upon me, slowly but inexorably, and I felt her inner flesh part before me. She close her eyes, apparently relishing the sensation as I was. As her hot, wet insides continued their descent around my rod she reached up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. She moved her hips slowly in order to facilitate my continued entrance into the very core of her, until her inner thighs met my hips.

Thus impaled, she began a slight rocking motion, not unlike a rider astride a horse. This appeared to give her considerable pleasure, for she moaned softly and kept her eyes closed, although her face remained expressionless.

The heat of her inner body infused my rod, and I felt the silken wetness of her flesh envelop it like a glove. She leaned forward, putting her hands on my shoulders to support herself, and increased her rocking, rubbing herself against me. She moaned again, and suddenly I felt her hands grip my shoulders firmly. Her body grew tense, and her sex clasped my manhood like the hand of a workman grips the handle of a tool. A sudden heat seemed to flow from her body into my rod, and she shuddered as she gained her release.

I felt a burning desire to reach up and hold her, to put my hands on those lovely rounded marble buttocks and pull her against me as this occurred, but my inability to lift any of my extremities remained, infused with this strange, heavy stiffness as they were.

In spite of my inability to provide her with any form of assistance or encouragement, the paroxysm that held her in its grip continued until it had fully run its course. She relaxed visibly, let her head hang for a moment, then opened her eyes and looked at me. The pale gray shade of her eyes struck me, and mentally I added it to the list of physical features that these women all appeared to share with each other but not with any race of Men that I knew of. Where the origins of these women might lie I knew not, but that their likes were to be found nowhere else on Earth was something that even in my current state I was certain of.

Still sitting astride me she slowly lifted her hips, drawing my rod out of her, until only the tip was still caught between her nether lips. Then she reversed her motion, lowering herself upon me, apparently relishing the feeling of my rod invading the depths of her sex further and further, until once again she was fully impaled upon my rigid manhood. She sighed, then began to repeat this sequence, lifting and lowering herself so that my rod slid in and out of her. Her sex held my organ like a hand gloved in velvet, and the caresses of her hot, smooth and wet inner flesh sliding up and down around it made me moan with pleasure. The sensation was incredible, and my lust rose and rose once more.

If only I could have touched her! If only I could have responded to her movements! More than ever I longed to thrust my rod into her, to meet her movements, to match her rhythm. But perforce I remained passive, uselessly wishing that I could move, remaining unable to do so.

She rode me that way, and soon her movements increased in speed and force until, not many moments later, her obvious pleasure reached its climax once again, and she shook with its force as her pent-up lust discharged itself. My own pleasure soared as well, spurred on by the sudden wave of heat that was released within her nether regions to infuse my rod, deep within her, and by the grip of her inner flesh which continued to stimulate my manhood in ways I had not known hitherto. The juices she so copiously produced flowed down along my rod freely to wet my own body, and I came close, yet not close enough, to releasing my seed within her. Once again my arousal was being lifted to unsurpassed heights but at the same time appeared to remain firmly fettered.

When her release had reached its completion she sighed, paused for a moment, then lifted herself off me. Her sex released my manhood, wet with the fluids of her arousal, and the air of the hall felt cold upon it. She lifted her leg across me until she sad beside me once again, then stepped off the altar. One of the figures standing behind me handed her her robe, which she donned before walking off to the back of the hall where I could no longer see her.

I lifted my head to see what was going on at the foot of the altar. The High Priestess was standing there, as nude as on the day she was born and, upon seeing her so, I was once again inflamed with lust. I found myself wishing that she would mount me as the acolyte had just done. I found myself wishing myself released from whatever mysterious bond held me down atop the altar, so that I could take her in my arms, hold her smooth, hairless body against me, my eyes drinking their fill of her exotic shape, of her delicately chiseled face and the baldness of her head. My hands longed to feel the fullness of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples. Suddenly I had a vision of her, lying on her back at the very spot I currently occupied, me kneeling between her legs and entering her that way, taking her deeply and fiercely.

The vision cleared, and in a brief moment of clarity I once again knew the degree to which I had fallen under the strange enchantment that these women appeared to have put on me. I realized that this was but a momentary respite and that soon my lust would once more obliterate any and all critical faculty that I otherwise might bring to bear. Yet such was the nature of my bewitchment that I knew no despair.

Then I noticed something exceedingly peculiar. Across from the fire pit in front of which the High Priestess stood, the statue had changed its position! I do not mean it had been moved. It had, somehow, changed its posture. It had been standing slightly crouched, as if about to spring forward and attach some hapless prey before it. Now, however, it stood almost upright, and both its arms were reaching out in front of it.

How was this possible? It was as if the very stone itself had come alive and assumed mobility. But his was of course unthinkable. Yet I could not conceive of anything that might explain it, save for one possibility, which was this: I was loosing, or already had lost, my mind.

That my very sanity was in peril I could not doubt, for the lustful bewitchment under which I currently found myself had overruled my critical faculties several times already, to the point of entirely dominating my thoughts and controlling my actions. Absent an alternative explanation, why should this not affect my observations? Yet I dismissed this notion as being highly unsatisfactory and refused to entertain the possibility that I was laboring under some sort of delusion, for deep within me I knew that once I questioned the reality of the situation in which I now found myself, improbable as it was, I would be truly and utterly lost.

These ruminations were interrupted when one of the robed figures behind me approached, holding a small cup. She raised my head, and I was allowed to drink. The contents of the cup left a strange taste in my mouth, but did quench my thirst.

Two more stepped forward from that group and took my arms. Lifting them with apparent difficulty, they carefully returned them to their original position. When they lowered them upon the surface of the altar I felt the strange force take hold once again, binding them in place as it had earlier. I felt strangely helpless, not in the least because I suddenly realized, with considerable disquiet, that my posture once more resembled that of the crucifix-like sculptures lining the walls of the passage into this hall.

Handing the cup to one of her companions, the acolyte shed her robe as her predecessors had done, and proceeded to mount the altar. In many respects she resembled the others, including the exotic lines of her face, her hairlessness, her light gray eyes and the paleness of her skin. She was, on the other hand, smaller in stature and her body was slender. I can only describe her as petite. She appeared, on the surface, somewhat younger than her predecessors, her hips not as widely curved, her breasts not as full. But like the others before her she had something about her that suggested she was much, much older than her outward appearance suggested, something that hinted of an unnaturally large number of years in excess of the span normally allotted to Man.

Standing upright, she put one foot on either side of my hips. She squatted down until she hovered over me. She took my member and put its tip against the entrance of her sex, parting her nether lips with it, then slowly lowered herself upon it. Her sex, perhaps in proportion with her slighter features, was smaller and felt narrow and tight, and my rigid manhood met with some resistance as it proceeded into her inner passage.

Apparently undeterred by this she continued her descent, and I felt her inner flesh stretch as my manhood invaded it. I have had little chance at actual comparison but, from comments made by the women with whom I have shared the pleasures of the flesh over the years I understand that, while the size of my manhood is not remarkable in any way, I may consider myself at least decently endowed. This, combined with the narrowness of her sex, made for a wonderful sensation. She appeared to share this opinion: while her face remained essentially as expressionless as all the ones before hers, she still somehow looked like she thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of my manhood making its way into her most intimate depths, parting her flesh before it as it went.

As she proceeded to the point where she had fully impaled herself upon me, I felt the tip of my rod touch the end of her passage and she made a soft noise when this occurred, something halfway between a moan and a grunt. Whether this was out of pleasure of discomfort I could not say. Her sex gripped my manhood with a tightness I had never felt before, and when she moved slightly upon me I myself could not keep quiet, so exquisite was the way her insides caressed me. The intensity of the feeling surpassed all that I had felt before, including the oral attentions my manhood had received from the girl who had applied her lips and tongue so skillfully.

She held out her arms to either side. Two robed figures stepped forward and took them. Thus steadied, she used her legs to push herself up, drawing my manhood out of her tight passage, and again I moaned with the intensity of the feeling. Then she proceeded to impale herself upon my rod once more until my sword was buried in her sheath all the way up to its hilt.

With the aid of the two acolytes steadying her, she proceeded to stimulate me that way, squatting astride me, moving herself up and down. The feeling of her sex sliding back and forth around my manhood was intoxicating, as was the sight of my rod being drawn out of it and being forced back in. Her inner flesh caressed the most sensitive points of my engorged member, and I felt my pleasure rise and rise.

In the course of this, a faint blush began to creep across her marble face and upper body. Her breasts seemed to swell slightly, and her nipples grew visibly before my eyes. She moved herself up and down with greater speed now, and if it hadn't been for the steadying hands provided by her assistants she would surely have lost her balance.

Suddenly I felt that this time my release would not be denied to me, and although her face still did not show any specific signs of pleasure, I did get the overall impression that she was approaching her own climax also. While I was loathe to entertain any hopes at this time, I vowed to do what I could not to disappoint her. I wanted to give her pleasure, nay, I needed to give her pleasure. As it was, I was unable to do anything of the sort, and the best I could do was to try and modulate my own arousal so that our releases, assuming I would be granted one on this occasion, would at least coincide with each other.

I needn't have worried. She moaned softly and increased her tempo, until she was milking my rod with her sex as if her life depended on it. Out of my field of view the High Priestess began her chant once more, joined by the group standing behind me. I felt my pleasure continue to rise toward its inevitable peak, and suddenly she let out a loud grunt and I felt her sex grip my manhood with redoubled force. With a mighty downstroke she fully impaled herself upon my rod for the last time, and suddenly I felt my pleasure erupt and burst out of me as it reached its climax. It felt as if my very life force poured out of my rod into her sex, and I screamed, again and again, so intense was my release. My seed, like oil from Zarephath's jug, filled her sex to overflowing, in spite of the fact that this was already the third successive occasion on which it had been drawn forth. I could only attribute this to the bewitchment that I had fallen under. Whether it was the oil applied to my privates, the cup which I had been given to drink, or some sort of magic worked by the chants and incantations uttered by these women, I could not and cannot say.

Magic? For a man of science it is, of course, unthinkable to consider so preposterous a notion! However, under the circumstances I am sure the reader will forgive me for calling it so, for there was no doubt in my mind that at least some aspects of what was happening more than just hinted at the supernatural.

Be that as it may, the fact remained that never before my body had been capable of a performance like the one it currently delivered. My rod remained erect, my seed continued to flow in copious amounts, and my pleasure continued unabated. Once again, while in the throes of this climactic pleasure, I felt the altar shake under me, and this time I was sure it was not simply my imagination, as the vibration was accompanied by a grating noise, not unlike that of heavy stone being dragged across stone. I only registered this with the edge of my consciousness, mind you, the bulk of my senses being given over to the pleasure induced by the girl's tight sex as it continued to grip and caress my pulsing rod.

Eventually my release ran its course and subsided, leaving me exhausted and feeling heavier than ever before. Having ascended the climactic peak of her own pleasures, the girl rose off me and stepped off the altar, supported by one of her assistants, leaving the other one to replace her.

When this girl doffed her robe she revealed a body that was quite different in appearance than that of the ones before her. Her skin was quite dark, although none of her other features resembled the Negroid type but instead were consistent with those of the High Priestess and the other acolytes. For some reason the word that came to my mind to describe her was "Nubian", although I am sure that this term would be essentially incorrect. Her young breasts were larger and heavier than those of the others, yet her youthful flesh did not succumb to gravity. Her nipples were very dark, in fact they were almost black, as were her nether lips, but the folds between them were of a delicate pink hue, and her sex was like wet, smooth silk and it throbbed like a heart when she carefully lowered it upon my rod.

I shall not bore the reader with repetition. For the next-- hour? Two hours? Three hours? I could not say-- a succession of girls drawn from the seemingly inexhaustible group of acolytes continued to mount the altar and impale themselves upon my manhood. My seed continued to burst forth on each occasion with undiminished force and in undiminished quantity, and my rod quickly regained its rigidity every time after this occurred, both phenomena being clearly be impossible under normal conditions even for the most virile young man. Each girl applied her sex to my manhood in her own way, but they all appeared to derive considerable pleasure from the act as they all gained release, some sooner, some after considerable time, and sometimes in what appeared to be quite an intense manner. This invariably brought about my own release, to the chanting of the High Priestess and her acolytes.

On each such occasion a vibration ran through the altar and a grating sound could be heard from across the fire pit, as if that of stone being dragged across stone. Several times the posture of the demonic statue visibly changed, and its surface gradually began to grow almost imperceptibly lighter in shade and hue.

While my eyes did see these improbable events in that hour, my mind did not register any of them, and it is merely by dim recollection and later observation that I am able to recount them, for my critical faculties had long since succumbed and given way to a delirium of ecstasy, lust and desire. Both my body and my mind were entirely given over to the pleasures to which I was now so thoroughly enslaved.

Eventually I must have lost consciousness, although I do not remember it, for when I came to my senses again I found myself shackled once more and lying upon the straw-covered floor of the cell from which I had been taken, seemingly a lifetime ago.

I felt absolutely wretched. My extremities were cold as stone and felt just as heavy. The hardness and rigidity that my rod had maintained for so long appeared to have flowed into the rest of my body, although my manhood itself had returned to its normal flaccid state. My joints appeared frozen and my skin had a darkness and glossy shade about it, unlike anything it had displayed ever before.

Gradually my mental faculties reasserted themselves. Upon remembering what had occurred, I felt shame, more than anything else: not just for what had been done to me, but even more for how I had responded to these things. Even now I craved the intense pleasures I had been subjected to. I wanted, nay, needed, more of it.

When I opened my eyes, all my companions appeared to be present. Jackson and Barstow were awake, while Gardner, Bradford and Delarousse appeared to be either asleep or unconscious.

"How long?" I asked. My own voice sounded strange to me, low in pitch and grating, unlike any sound I had ever before produced.

Barstow, who had been regarding me, looked away, moving slowly and with apparent difficulty, but not before I had read in his eyes a shame akin to what I felt myself.

"We do not know," he said, curtly. His voice also appeared affected, sounding as distorted as my own.

Then I realized what had happened, and was still to happen, and there was nothing more to be said.

The very notion was too fantastic, too improbable to entertain, especially for a man of science, but I felt within me the unshakable certainty that it was the truth. Somehow, by what supernatural effect, magic or witchcraft I knew not, I still know not, our very life force was being extracted from us and reassigned to the demonic statue that adorned the front of the hall in which we had all, by now, shared a similar experience.