Initiation

He lay back and closed his eyes again. The soft pillows cushioned his head and the bed felt so comfortable and warm. His right hand once again descended to his groin and he rested it upon his cock which hardened as he drifted off once more into a deep sleep.

The spiders were all over the room. Involuntarily his body shivered. He didn't like spiders, never had really. He could face them, objectively try and face up to his fears, but he'd had some extremely bad nightmares involving huge spiders. He remembered one time when he'd awoken with a start, leaping out of bed certain that a massive spider was resting just above his bed. He'd been convinced that it was the result of his dark workings, but still he'd continued. This was different though. The room was practically empty but many small spiders were rushing around the room, up the walls, along the floor, across the ceiling until eventually they'd started to clamber up his legs. At that point he woke up, the disturbing dream replaced by another disturbing image. Disturbing for the fact that it was real. About him stood a group red robed figures, they were all of consistent height and their cowls were pulled up over their heads. During his sleep he'd been uncovered and bound once more, defenceless again amidst the sorority.

VIII

"It is time for your submission." A female voice at the foot of the bed spoke.

"You have been waiting for this," a soft female voice said as the figure leant forward and took his cock in hand.

He became aroused as the hand pulled his foreskin slowly down his shaft.

"Look, he is becoming hard again." He recognised the voice, it was the Jamaican soldier from earlier.

"But how long will he last?" A voice that he didn't recognise asked.

"We shall have to wait and see." The voice at the end of the bed said. That was a voice he did remember it was the English officer from earlier and she was evidently in command.

The hand on his penis had begun moving slowly back and forth, pulling his foreskin upwards and downwards, at one stroke exposing his glands, another covering them over again.

He gasped. The hand wanked him slowly, the eyes of the robed women intently watching the erotic manipulations of their sister.

"He likes that doesn't he." One of them giggled.

"Look he's going to cum." The Jamaican said.

"He didn't last long did he." It was the short female to his right that spoke. From the sound of her voice he estimated that she was another teenager. "Are they all like that?" She asked, directing the question to no one in particular. The woman beside her whispered a quiet answer, "Some last longer than others, but they have all been through a heightened state of sexual eroticism, so it is to be expected that they do not last long once they are touched by a female hand."

"I've never seen a man cum before," the young girl said giggling.

No one answered.

"Don't bring him off yet," instructed the leader, "he must experience the sight first."

All about him a slow and beautiful chant was begun as the woman who was masturbating him slowed her hand rhythm down to an almost stop. Holding his retracted foreskin for a few moments before ever so slowly pulling it back up the long veined shaft and then holding it there for a few moments before repeating the whole cycle.

Directly above him a white mist began to form, initially remaining formless until it gradually moulded itself into a strange unearthly feminine being. A long Aryan face, long pointed elfin ears, intense staring eyes. She was naked and her breasts hung down almost touching his chest. A tongue flicked seductively over full lips. The hand on his cock continued its incredibly slow pace of stimulation. As best he could he thrust upwards subconsciously desiring union with this strange succubus.

The chant continued, the female cantors obviously intent upon increasing the level of energy in the room. Beyond the succubus an open doorway appeared, beyond which golden steps led to a marble plateau upon which a golden throne was positioned, it's back towards him so that he was unable to see whether it seated an occupant. Suddenly he was out of his body and ascending the steps, a voice counted the number as he progressed upwards. One, two, three. The succubus ascended a few steps ahead of him, every now and again looking back at him, indicating for him to follow her to the top. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. In the distance, somewhere behind him he heard a slow and beautiful chant being sung by a female choir. He looked back and saw a figure masturbating his naked and bound body, about him a group of red robed figures stood motionless. Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. He'd reached the plateau. The succubus had vanished. He moved towards the chair which slowly turned to greet him. The seated figure startled him. Naked, winged, muscular, masculine, a long face with dark eyes that looked deep into his soul and made him shake involuntarily. "I left you behind." Paul said questioning the validity of the vision before him.

"I am always with you and you know that as truth." The figure replied grinning, sharp and dangerous teeth apparent.

"Oh God, where are you?" Paul asked looking up into the sky beyond the figure.

"I am here." The figure replied.

"You are Satan and I no longer serve you."

"If that is so, then why did you find me here?" Satan asked suddenly standing, his long reptilian wings nearly touching the marble floor.

"I don't know. I never really sought you. I was looking for something else."

"You were looking for lies."

"This is wrong," Paul said backing away from him. "This is wrong, something is wrong."

"You are wrong," Satan suddenly snarled at him, a cloud of blackness spreading out into the atmosphere directly around him, "fool, you sought me and found what?"

"I…"

"You found your own nothingness," Satan interrupted, "and still you hide behind bullshit," blatant contempt in his voice.

In his heart Paul felt the truth. "I am nothing." He said. He'd known this before, sensed it within himself. The falsity of it all. How everything and everyone was hiding behind what they were not. "I am nothing." He repeated as he fell to knees. "God, I am nothing. I am nothing."

"You are nothing." Satan repeated staring with intensity at the naked form of the initiate before him. "Even this form is not you. Can you not even see beyond form yet? Fool! You who are nothing! Fool! You who are blind to the true Mysteries! Fool! You who hide behind what you are not. Fool! You are nothing!" Each sentence cut him like a whip thrashed across his back. Finally Paul raised his gaze to look firstly at Satan, "You are a teacher, but you are nothing also." Then casting his gaze skywards he asked the question that he had always sought an answer to. "What am I?" White clouds passed across the canvas of the blue sky, pushed by a high and distant wind, but no answer came.

The vision faded, replaced by the red-robed Servants of the Goddess. He was limp now, semen spilled upon his stomach and over the hand of the masturbator who had carefully wiped it off into a glass jar.

"I am nothing." He said his gaze unfocused. The sisters stood for a moment or two, quiet and unmoving until the lead sister indicated for them to leave. In silence the masturbator undid his bindings as the others left, then she too followed them out of the room closing the door behind her, leaving only the well spoken English sister alone in the room with Paul.

"You have found the question." She said as she moved toward him, "We are here to provide the answer that has eluded you all this time." As she walked toward him she pulled down a zip at the front of her robe, enabling it to fall from her shoulders onto the carpet. Stepping out of it she was naked, her breasts firm, nipples erect.

"Now," she said climbing onto the bed, "I have the honour to be your first. Let us find the truth together."