Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 10

We spent our nights at his hotel room making love, but I still refrained from having intercourse. It must have been a frustrating experience for him, as it was for me, but I was just not ready to consummate our love. Part of the reason was that I was just plain scared. His penis was so huge that the thought of it entering me made me physically uneasy. I knew that we would eventually have intercourse, but my mind was as yet not ready to deal with it. He understood how I felt, and in his good-natured and loving way he accepted my decision with equanimity.

The final directive Phoebe gave to Angelique, and which was reluctantly obeyed, was to remove the bulk of her possessions from the chateau into an apartment in Paris. The movers had arrived a few days after Angelique had been ordered out, and with my aunt's help they loaded her daughter's remaining things into the truck and headed for the city.

I had no idea on what street Angelique was now living, nor did I care enough to ask my aunt. I was glad to have that malicious fiend out of the house and as far away from me as possible. I knew it hurt my aunt greatly to have evicted her own daughter, but she could no longer pretend that Angelique was anything but a walking horror intent on stepping on anyone who got in her way—including her own mother. I had consoled my aunt more than once in the days that followed, and sometimes I could hear her crying violently in her study at the oddest hours. It truly broke my heart.

During this time, Lenore, Justine, and Estelle took it upon themselves to entertain my aunt in whatever way possible, in order to help alleviate her pain. Their kindly solicitations must have been effective because by the time Friday rolled around the crying had ceased. In fact, at one point Lenore had gotten her to laugh, and that made my heart glad. I knew my aunt was still suffering inside, but she made a concerted effort to come to terms with the reality that was Angelique and began to act deferentially towards me, as though I had taken Angelique's place and become her surrogate daughter.

Quietly accepting this role by default, and seeing how it helped to restore some semblance of happiness within her, I did everything I could to cater to her, soon realizing that my efforts were producing visibly beneficial results. One evening, just as she was going to bed, she came to my room and held me close to her, as a mother does a child, and told me that God had not forsaken her because He had brought me into her life. I think the both of us cried for a very long time before the lateness of the hour forced us to say goodnight.

I had been in contact with both Mary Kate and Ashley during the course of the week and they told me that they were looking forward to coming to my aunt's official indoctrination ceremony, which was to take place over the weekend. The twins were busy officiating over a competition that was being held in Paris for some up and coming clothing designers—one of which was a young girl of nineteen who was a friend of Ashley's. During my last conversation with her, she told me that Mary Kate had a surprise in store for me. I asked her for a hint, but all she said was, "wait and see".

I awoke around 9:30 AM on Saturday and found my aunt, Lenore, Justine, and Estelle sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast together. All of them appeared to be in a very animated mood and I was happy to see that my aunt had once more resumed her normal composure. I wished everyone a good morning and prepared myself a bowl of cereal.

"Come and join us for breakfast, sweetheart," she said, inviting me to sit next to her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did, auntie," I replied, taking my place by her side. "Thank you."

Justine eyed me for a few moments and then broke out laughing.

"What?" I said, addressing her. "What's so funny?"

"It's inconceivable that anyone could look so good first thing in the morning," she replied bemused.

"She's beautiful," Estelle said. "She doesn't have to work at it like we do."

"Beauty is as beauty does, ladies," Lenore offered, as she grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Estelle scoffed at the trite maxim. "Oh really, Lenore. We all know it's in the genes."

"Physical beauty, yes," Lenore replied. "But true beauty comes from within."

Justine groaned. "Wrong. True beauty comes from having parents who are beautiful. It's purely physical. That's the only kind of beauty anyone cares about."

"Well, what good is having physical beauty if your soul is corrupt?"

"Maybe you should ask Angelique that question," I blurted out without thinking.

I saw my aunt's face suddenly grow dark. The other women looked away and said nothing.

"I'm sorry, aunt Phoebe," I quickly apologized, taking her hand. "That was stupid of me. I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right," she replied generously. "It's true. Just bad timing."

She managed a smile and took a bite of her toast.

I felt horrible. I don't know what made me utter such a comment, but obviously my cousin had gotten under my skin to the point where I was thinking about her far too much. It wasn't so much the incident with the chocolate cake that made me upset; it was the fact that no one had heard anything about her for the past five days. She had briefly spoken to my aunt earlier in the week to let her know that she and her colleagues would not be attending the induction ceremony, but that was it. Her reluctance to maintain any form of correspondence with my aunt or any of the other Sisters made me worry greatly. I knew from past experience that my cousin's temporary excursions into willful hibernation ultimately led to trouble. Where and when that trouble would occur I could not foretell.

"It's going to be a wonderful ceremony, Phoebe," Lenore said, trying to lighten the mood. "It will be simple but elegant and all our traditional rituals will be observed. You're going to have a great time."

"I'm sure I will," my aunt replied. "I appreciate all the hard work you and the girls have done."

"Nonsense, Phoebe," Justine said. "It is our pleasure."

"And the nicest thing," my aunt continued, "is that Holly will be the one to present me with my robe."

"Yes," Lenore agreed. "It is tradition that the youngest among us fulfill that role. But technically, she shouldn't because she's not a full-fledged Sister."

"I don't want you to break the rules on my account," I said.

"Not at all," Lenore replied genially. "You are my chosen successor. And rank does have its privileges."

We sat around talking for another hour before Lenore and the others left to prepare for the ceremony, which was to take place at midnight in the main hall. Not being a Sister, I could not wear the traditional black robe with hood. However, Lenore told me that I could wear a black dress to be in keeping with the general décor of the ceremony. Beyond that, as her successor, I could do pretty much as I pleased.

Sisterhood members started arriving around 10:00 PM that night and the entire estate was soon abuzz with laughter and merriment. I could hear the cars pull up onto the great lawn abutting my window, and as I looked down onto the well-lit causeway beneath, I saw a bevy of black-robed women make their way across the lawn toward the south gate. I quickly finished dressing and headed for my aunt's bedroom, where I found her sitting on the edge of the bed looking forlorn.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I entered the room. "Aunt Phoebe?"

She looked at me with tear-filled eyes, clutching a small doll in her hands. "This... this silly thing was the first toy I ever bought for my daughter. She was such a wonderful little girl. So loving—so bright. I used to tell Pierre that she was like a ray of sunlight in a dark and dreary world. And if you could have seen her then, you would have certainly agreed." She examined the doll from several angles before letting it fall onto the bed beside her. "I can't believe that my own child, the flesh of my flesh, has fallen so far." At this point she broke down and started to cry in earnest. "Oh God, what am I going to do?" Covering her face with both hands, she gently let her body fall sideways onto the bed.

"Don't cry," I said consolingly, as I positioned myself on the bed next to her. "It's not your fault that she turned out the way she did. You mustn't blame yourself."

"Then who am I to blame? Pierre? What he did was reprehensible, yes, but I'm her mother. I should have been there for her and I wasn't. She told me so herself."

That would be like Angelique, I told myself. Guilt was a weapon she wielded against others with cunning yet brutal force. And my aunt had no defense for it.

"There's no way you could have foreseen what happened. You trusted your husband and he betrayed that trust."

"But I could have healer her. I could have made things better for her. I was too stupid or ignorant to see it."

"No, auntie. You gave her everything. Mom always told me how great a mother you were to Angelique. And the first time I came to France to see you, I saw it for myself. So please don't punish yourself for something that isn't true."

"But how, how did she turn into this grotesque creature?" my aunt retorted. "Why is she the way she is?"

"Auntie, you have to understand that not all abused children turn out to be monsters. Many lead normal and happy lives. They learn how to deal with it. But Angelique turned all that rage and hatred inside. And for years she has let it grow until it has become this giant, cancerous sore that turned her into what she is now. It's not your fault."

My aunt shook her head and positioned herself upright on the bed. "I want to believe you, Holly, I really do. But I can't help believe that I've failed her. And I don't think she will ever be my little girl again."

All my subsequent efforts to console her proved to be more or less ineffectual. At last, realizing that it was getting late, she washed her face, reapplied her makeup and presented herself to me as the aunt Phoebe I knew—strong, beautiful, full of life—even though I knew that beneath the façade of invincible cordiality beat a very troubled heart.

The ceremony commenced precisely at midnight with Lenore and her two assistants, Justine and Estelle, officiating. The main hall of the Masturbatorium was refurbished to resemble the Sisterhood's "Hall of Audiences" that had been demolished over a hundred years ago when the ancient building that housed it, and the precious stone framework upon which it was constructed, could not be salvaged in the wake of a citywide revitalization project. Many of the priceless Sisterhood artifacts were sold off to Sisterhood members throughout the world, and my aunt managed to acquire several interesting pieces that now adorned the walls and floors, such as the original tapestry that formed the backdrop of an impromptu altar upon which the sacrosanct "vessel of collection"—another relic of bygone days—stood in all its 24-karat-gold splendor.

There were roughly a few hundred women in attendance, and all were outfitted in the traditional black robe and hood of the Sisterhood. I understood from my aunt that the actual ceremony would not last more than an hour, after which everyone would be treated to a buffet held in an adjacent area of the main hall. No one but actual Sisterhood members were allowed at the ceremony, so Mary Kate, Ashley, Drew, Teri, and other celebrities were excluded, although they all would be attending the dinner party to follow. Even I was not really supposed to be in attendance, since I had not been officially indoctrinated into their Order. However, as Lenore's successor, no one would dare raise any objections to my presence.

Leading up to the altar was a long causeway that reminded me very much of a church aisle, fitted with a lush red carpet and chairs on either side. The only thing different about it was the addition of two panels of plexiglass that flanked each side of the aisle. The panels stood about eight feet in height and effectively prevented onlookers from having access to my aunt as she walked toward the altar. I had no idea why the barriers were there until I saw a party of naked men walk toward the artificial construction under the command of several Sisters, who indicated to each man where he was to stand along the length of the aisle. I counted 21 men in total; all physically fit and handsome young men positioned about 10 feet from each other all along the route my aunt would momentarily take.

As I watched Lenore take her place at the altar, she calmly addressed the audience, asking them to take their seats without delay. I found my way to the altar and sat beside Charlotte, who, along with several other older women whom I did not know, paid their respects to me with a slight nod of the head. The entire atmosphere seemed very somber until I heard a great roar of laughter emanate from the women sitting closest to the naked men.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked Charlotte as I strained to get a better view.

"The men are prepping themselves," she replied casually, yet with a hint of lasciviousness in her voice.

"Prepping?"

"They're jerking off," one of the older robed women muttered.

"Why are they doing that?"

Lenore laughed at my astonishment. "It's an ancient ritual called the "21-cum salute". As your aunt passes by each man, he has to shoot his load onto the glass. In olden times there was no glass, so the initiate's dresses got covered in sperm, effectively ruining them over time. We had to put a stop to that."

"So now we can watch the men show their respect for Phoebe without her getting soiled," Justine added. "I think you will be impressed with what you're going to see."

Charlotte laughed like a little girl, causing the other women nearest her to twitter away too.

"I don't understand," I said looking mystified. "What is the purpose of this whole thing?"

"The men are showing their loyalty to Phoebe, and all the Sisterhood, by their show of submission. When men are naked, they really have no power other than what we, their superiors, bestow upon them. Masturbating themselves for all of us to see is an act of total subservience."

I got up and moved in front of Justine. "They're erect already," I noted with amusement.

"And soon they'll be shooting their hot sticky sperm all over the place," laughed a robed figure on the far end of the altar. "It's the best part of the ceremony!"

"Relax Holly," Estelle said, adjusting the hood of her robe. "Enjoy the show."

I sat back down next to Charlotte and shortly thereafter Lenore began her speech. It was a simple diatribe, filled with anecdotes and reminisces of ceremonies gone by told in a somewhat bittersweet tone whose message seemed to connect with everyone in the hall. In all, the speech must have lasted only a few minutes, but when she was done speaking, the entire audience was laughing and cheering her on.

Then the music began. It was the simple refrain of a well-known church hymn that was far more suited to a wedding than a Sisterhood ceremony. And there, at the far end of the hall, two great doors opened and out walked my aunt, looking regally beautiful in her black silk gown fitted with long embroidered sleeves and train. It was in fact a wedding dress, but it was all black. The only thing that offset the somber ensemble was a string of pearls that hung daintily around her long neck.

All the heads in the audience turned around to watch her make her entrance into the hall. She stood completely alone, head and body erect and her gaze focused upon the altar. Immediately, the first few men began to stroke their cocks, priming them for release at the exact moment she passed by. And as she slowly made her way along the aisle, the first in a long series of ejaculations flew high into the air, splashing with great force upon the plastic barrier. Some of the sperm actually flew over the rim of the plexiglass, almost landing on my aunt. The audience was in hysterics.

"Oh, look at him!" one woman cried out several rows back. "Look at his face!"

The fourth man in line was now ready to surrender the fruit of his huge balls onto the plastic wall before him. Even my aunt, who was desperately trying to maintain her composure, had to stop and watch this man bring himself to climax before her. His hand motions were funny enough to watch, but his facial expressions were even funnier. My aunt watched him pump his huge prick with avid fascination for a few seconds and then burst out laughing, which sent the entire audience into an uproar.

The laughter seemed to enervate the man, who now jerked his prick with wild abandon. Standing at the edge of the altar, I had a birds-eye view of the entire scene. His eyes now completely shut tight, and his huge cock head, purple, bloated, and full of hot cum, was on the verge of relinquishing its pent-up juices for all the women to see.

"Go ahead and shoot that load!" Justine screamed from behind me.

That was all it took to coax a magnificent jet of white cream from the man. It splashed into the plastic wall with such force that several rivulets of cum were formed from the impact. This was followed by a succession of massive bursts of semen that made the wall look like someone had thrown a bucket of heavy cream onto it. I counted no less than a dozen volleys before it was over. He was greeted with a tremendous round of applause.

My aunt was laughing so hard she could barely walk. Meantime the other men were frantically pulling on their pricks, not wanting to let this minor incident disrupt their mental concentration.

Once again my aunt began to slowly walk down the aisle as the music swelled and the audience grew more boisterous. And then, suddenly, two huge groans were heard, quickly followed by two arcs of pearly white semen, shot simultaneously high up into the air and falling like two opalescent liquid missiles onto the plastic panels. The timing was perfect.

"It's rare that you see that!" Charlotte exclaimed, fascinated by the sight.

Lenore nodded her head in approval. "It's a good omen."

Arc after arc of hot sperm found its way onto the barrier as my aunt continued on her journey toward the altar. The plexiglass was now dripping with cum; the solemn libation paid to my aunt in the form of traditional Sisterhood male subservience.

As the final volleys of sperm adorned the plastic barrier, the man who would have provided the twenty-first ejaculation, but whom did not, escorted my aunt to the center of the altar where Lenore and I stood side by side. The audience, who only moments before were howling with unrestrained glee, were now completely silent, watching intently. Justine handed Lenore a long, black robe—the traditional robe of the Sisterhood—who, in turn, handed it to me.

"It is with great pride and pleasure that I, and all your Sisters, welcome you, Phoebe Anjou, into the folds of the Sisterhood," Lenore began in a fairly somber but musical cadence. "Accept the traditional robe and hood of our Order and wear it proudly."

My aunt thanked Lenore and the other Sisters as I helped her put the robe on. She was all smiles as the crowd erupted into an enormous round of applause.

"I am so overjoyed," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you—all of you. This is a great honor."

As I helped my aunt adjust her robe, Lenore invited her to speak to the audience.

"What should I say?" my aunt said, searching Lenore's face for a suggestion. It was one of those rare times that I found her at a loss for words.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Lenore replied. "You, of all people, tongue-tied?"

"I'm...I'm just so overcome by all this." My aunt fidgeted with the folds of her robe for a few moments and seeing she was truly having difficulty, I grabbed her hand hard.