Neophyte

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Leaning back in the expensive leather armchair she smiled to herself, what should we do to him? She wondered, before quickly realising that she'd better get changed out of her jeans and T-shirt and put on something a little more appropriate.

5

"This way" Emma instructed, leading Paul into a large kitchen. The tiled floor was cold on Paul's feet.

"So what are you cooking for us today Maria?" Chantelle was standing in front of a Spanish maid – the same maid that had brought Paul his breakfast on his first visit to the Mansion House.

"You see when it ready, now leave us alone." Maria replied seemingly annoyed at the interruption, before turning towards another young senorita. "Margaret, how are those potatoes doing?" Maria said noticing that Margaret's concentration was aimed at the naked young man who'd just entered the room, rather than the pot of boiling potatoes on the stove.

"You supposed to be checking potatoes, not looking at naked man." Maria admonished her younger assistant. Paul briefly caught her eye, before turning away feeling once more both embarrassed and aroused.

"This, as you see, is the kitchen." Emma said coming to a halt.

"And this is Maria and Margaret" Chantelle said looking across the kitchen table at Paul. "Maria this is…"

"I know who he is." Maria said sharply, "he like to be naked in front of women. He a flasher."

"He's not a flasher!" Chantelle said half laughing, "Margaret would you like to meet Paul?"

"She busy." Maria answered before Margaret had chance to speak. "Besides, she not speak English well."

"Neither do you!" Chantelle teased.

"Oh, surely she's got time to say hello!" Emma said amused at Maria's behaviour. Maria always made the two girls smile with her short and sharp manner and it was fun to watch men squirm when in her presence.

"Margaret, this is Paul." Chantelle said once again. "And Paul, this is Margaret."

Margaret's face went red, embarrassed at the site of Paul's erection which had remained hard throughout the conversation. "Come and say hello."

Hesitantly Margaret wiped her hands on her apron before walking up to Paul whose heart beat a little faster.

"You remember the traditional greeting at the House don't you Margaret." Emma reminded her with a knowing look.

Margaret's gaze moved from Emma to Paul who, despite remaining still besides Emma, waited with baited breath for the young girl to give him the 'traditional greeting'. They hadn't said what it was, but he had his suspicions...

"She not touching him while she cooking food." Maria remarked to the two girls.

"It's okay, she can wash her hands after," Emma said quickly, concerned that Paul might catch on to what the traditional greeting actually was.

"It's okay Margaret, you can touch him." Chantelle said.

"I not sure." Margaret said in a strong Spanish accent. By now she was standing before him staring into his eyes. "Lovely eyes." She said before her eyes dropped down to look at his manhood. About to put out his hand, Paul realised that the traditional greeting was indeed not the same as a normal day-to-day greeting.

Margaret's hand reached forward and time slowed for Paul as he felt her fingers gently closing around his shaft until she locked her grip with her thumb.

"This one, likes to touch himself." Maria said to no one in particular seemingly uninterested in the younger girls sexual games. Margaret's head half turned, but her concentration remained on her holding action.

"That's it," Emma said, "now remember the movement we taught you." Obediently, Margaret's hand began to move slowly back and forth along Paul's shaft.

"Three full lengths." Emma narrated noticing a sudden strong sense of arousal.

"Now you say, 'please to meet you Paul.' " Chantelle said her eyes changing between Paul's red face and Margaret's flushed look.

"Pleased to meet you Paul." Margaret said barely able to look at Paul in the eyes. "I name is Margaret."

"Pleased to meet you Margaret." Paul gasped as her hand massaged his shaft.

"Okay, that's enough." Emma said anxious that Paul not shoot his load before he'd even met Brigitte.

Letting go of Paul's cock, Margaret turned and walked quickly away, her heart racing. If truth be told she would have liked to have had the opportunity to have met him alone where she was in charge of the situation, but as it was, she was new to the Sorority having taken the opportunity to work in England after applying through a classified advertisement in a Spanish magazine. The job had only specified that a young trainee was required to work as an assistant at a large well-to-do Mansion House owned by a businesswoman in the South-East of England. There had been no mention of the 'work' that took place there, or the fact that the only male presence was nearly always naked. Her first few days had been in somewhat subdued circumstances as the majority of women were packing to attend a meeting somewhere in Scotland, where another Mansion House was housing an international forum of some sort or other. When she eventually saw a naked man being lead along by a cock-leash she was simultaneously surprised, amused and aroused. Maria had then taken the opportunity to educate her young study in the actual 'work' that the Sorority did and that the fact that Margaret had been accepted meant that she possessed certain qualities that the Sisterhood were seeking in young women. That had only been a few weeks ago and she was still getting used to the site of seeing naked men around the house.

"You girls know what doing? Diana and others not back 'til after weekend you know." Maria said her mood suddenly concerned for the girls welfare.

"Yes, we know Maria." Emma replied tiredly.

"We've already got him well under control. Can't you tell! He is naked!" Chantelle said.

"Just because no clothes, don't mean he not man! You be careful and come get me if he gets out of hand." Maria said obviously worried that, despite his nudity, Paul was still a potential danger under such a sexually charged situation.

"The only hand he's going to get out of will be ours!" Emma said laughing

"And that'll be when we decide!" Chantelle said breaking into a laugh also. "Anyway, we're taking him to see Brigitte, she'll sort him out, don't you worry. Come on."

Obediently and erect Paul followed the two girls through the kitchen and further into the house.

6

The three girls remained silent. He hadn't seen Brigitte yet as he'd been ordered to stand eyes closed, feet at shoulder width apart, hands behind his back, right hand clasped into left. He'd heard Emma and Chantelle leaving, their riding boots echoing across the tiled wooden floor, which had been so highly polished that it was like walking across a mirror, every now and again his eyes would glance down seeing the reflection of the two clothed horse riders leading him naked across the room. The extra visual stimulation had ensured that he maintained a hard-on. Then he'd been left alone, reminiscent of his initiation he remembered. His cock went limp and he began to feel a little cold and terribly nervous. Finally, he heard a door open followed by the sound of footsteps which grew louder as they grew closer until almost as abruptly as they'd interrupted the silence they stopped. His cock remained limp, his heart taking all the blood as it pumped faster. He could sense they were behind him, were they close? A yard? A foot? An inch even? If he leant back would he feel the contours of a female body? Or smell her fragrance or the cool touch of her breath upon his naked back?

"So, you came back of your own accord then Paul?" Brigitte said shocking him back from his fantasy. Involuntarily he opened his eyes. His penis twitched. "Very naughty." She said smiling knowingly at Emma and Chantelle who smiled back.

"Yes very naughty indeed." She continued. She knew they were clichéd lines, but they would work wonders on suppressing the male ego and that was one of the main tenets of Sorority: Any male that has the ability to submit his ego willingly before any of the Sisters is regarded by the Sorority as a true neophyte.

Paul went to turn his head.

"Face front! Eyes closed!" Emma shouted immediately taking a step closer. Paul complied, turning his head forwards once more and closing his eyes.

"You've been told how to stand and I expect you to obey. Or do you have trouble understanding instructions in English?" Chantelle barked. No answer. "Well?" She said sharply.

"I, er…"

"Have you got trouble speaking young man?" Emma interrupted.

"No, sorry, I won't do it again." Paul said. His throat was dry, his cock stirred with life, every now and again twitching as it began to grow erect.

The sound of slow footsteps took him off guard. What was going to happen? What have I got myself into? What will they do to me? They might have me arrested, or throw me out without any clothes or keys… No one knows I'm here, they could do away with me. Crazy thoughts raced through his mind.

"Shut up!" Emma said as if clairaudiently hearing his thoughts.

"Calm your mind Paul," Chantelle said softly.

"Very naughty." It was Brigitte's voice. A soft well-spoken English voice.

"You came back. We didn't invite you, we didn't contact you, but you came back." She paused as she took a few more steps so that she was standing in front of him.

"Open your eyes Paul." She said, her voice soothing his fear, calming his emotions, arousing his desire.

Brigitte was attractive, very attractive. She stood before him wearing the archetypal female horse riders outfit: black polished riding boots, white tight fitting jodhpurs, a thigh length black riding jacket with a shiny black leather belt wrapped around her waist, her brown hair was tied back in a bun. Her face was pretty, very pretty, beautiful smooth cheeks, full lips, painted with a glossy pink lipstick. A white cravat completed the sequence, enhanced by the fact that she held a flexed riding crop in her hands.

His eyes briefly met hers. He felt embarrassed at his arousal as his once again hard penis once pointed upwards.

"Yes, your hard again aren't you." Brigitte said in a calming and loving tone. Lifting his eyes he looked back at her. Their eyes met and confirmed the existence of a form of communication that lay beyond the confusion of words.

"Do not be alarmed" Brigitte continued, "You have come back to us. You have returned to the place that you belong. To men like you, this is Aphrodite's Heaven, Venus' Passion, the cave of Lilith, the Garden of Eve. Here you will find what you are looking for, with us, through us and, eventually through yourself."

"Am I to stay here?"

Brigitte smiled at the stereotypical male question. "Stay here?" She said humorously, "No, not here. There is another place that you must visit. After you have been there, then we shall see how you've answered your own question."

Answered my own question? Paul thought. What did she mean by that? By my actions I create my life. He thought to himself. How I act in this new place will determine whether I can stay here or not. That made sense. But what was this 'other place'?

"The other place?" Brigitte repeated. "Well, you will have to wait and see. For now," she said as she glanced down at his erection, "you must undergo punishment and as neither Diana or Samantha are present it seems that it has fallen to me to determine the nature of that punishment." Her eyes had moved from his cock up his lean yet honed stomach to his chest, then his face until they finally met his eyes once more. "What is sure," she said as she stepped right up to him. "is that this little boy toy is now what we call a 'girls toy'." Her fingers wrapped slowly around his shaft until she was holding him firmly. "Do you understand?" She said in a menacing voice.

"I, I do.." Paul stammered feeling as if he were about to explode on the spot.

"None of that" Chantelle barked from behind him.

"There will be no unauthorised ejaculation!" Shouted Emma fiercely.

"It's okay girls, I have him firmly under control." Brigitte said her voice remaining strong. Her grip became tighter and tighter until Paul gasped out loud. The girls smiled between themselves.

"You're aching for release aren't you? Would you like Emma and Chantelle to rub some oil into that ache?" Brigitte said, her voice suddenly soft and sensuous, "would that ease the swelling do you think? Their soft hands caressing that cock of yours. Pulling ever so slowly on that foreskin revealing that lovely bulbous purple head?" Her tight grip eased off until she had him held firmly but gently in her right hand. "You know," she continued, "we have ways of teasing a man for hours, teasing and teasing him but never letting him cum. Would you like us to do that to you? But then, what sort of punishment would that be?"

Paul remained silent.

"Well?"

"It, it wouldn't be…" He said at last, trying to control himself and prevent any pre-cum from appearing.

"Exactly!" Brigitte said sharply. "That would be no sort of punishment. Perhaps I should send you out to clean up the horses muck in the woods? Or scrub the toilets with a toothbrush? Or send you out late at night, naked to paint the guttering when the wind is up and the rain is pouring down?"

"That sounds more like punishment." Chantelle said, her voice contemptuous.

Ignoring her friend Brigitte continued. "You turn up here, uninvited, with a throbbing in your trousers that not even the most experienced whore in Bangkok could sedate! Turn up here, expecting… expecting… WHAT! Expecting to get some hand relief? A blowjob? A fuck even?!"

"I hadn't heard…"

"SHUT UP!" Brigitte barked echoed by Emma and Chantelle.

"It won't be long until the Ladies from the East arrive – end of the month I believe – and when they do, you are in for one hell of a surprise I can tell you young man."

"They have methods of male submission that we haven't even heard of." Emma said coldly, her intent to put fear into the man's heart.

"Okay, I've seen all I want to see. Take him down to the darkness." Brigitte said finally.

Hands pulled at Paul's arms and he was led away.

7

Everything was dark. Dark and silent. Following Brigitte's instructions Emma and Chantelle had led Paul from the large dining room, through a hallway and down some steps into a basement. They remained silent during the brief journey which concluded with Paul being strapped to a large wooden cross nailed to one of the brick walls. Maintaining their silence, they left him alone turning the lights off as they went.

Another eternity passed. Paul's subconscious spending its time imagining worst-case-scenarios. I might be left here for ever, they might torture me to death, or as they had briefly joked, turn me into a girls strap-on fuck toy, worst still other men might be present and they might do any number of unspeakable things… The thoughts and emotions went on and on, each one working him into a further frenzied state until finally he spoke out loud.

"Shut up" he said to himself, trying to gather some self-control.

The buckles that held his wrists and ankles were tight and evidently new as they cut into his skin. His feet ached, he was dying for a piss and shaking from the cold. CFNM is great he thought as long as you're warm and have plenty of women who want to play with your prick, but when you start to shake from the cold it wasn't as much fun. He remembered a time past during his involvement in the subculture of Satanism when he'd been instructed to lie on top of a hill from dusk 'til dawn without moving. The ritual was a test of the initiates strength of will. He'd tried it three times, but each time the cold had got to him. On his third and final attempt he had reached the first stages of hypothermia and knew that he could no longer continue. Was this then, he wondered to himself, a similar test? Brigitte had already said that he'd failed and would have to be punished, perhaps this was the punishment - left to finish what he had failed in the past.

Time passed and his shivering increased. Gradually and almost inaudibly, he could hear a distant chant. Not continuous, but seeming to come and go. The sound stopped. Paul held his breath, straining to hear even the slightest sound, but nothing… then, again a chant, louder this time, closer perhaps. The slow, mournful ascending and descending of a melancholic chant. It sounds like the Dies Irae he thought to himself, the old Christian chant that was part of a larger series of chants used to re-enact the death and resurrection of Christ.

A door opposite him opened startling him. In candlelight, a silhouetted robed figure appeared, cowl up masking the face. Silently the figure walked into the room, holding a candlestick containing a single black lit candle, the flame typically danced in the breeze, but the candle remained alight. Behind the first figure the chanting came. "Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla, teste Satan cum sybilla," the final note rose a little from the others, "quantos tremor est futurus, quando Vindex est venturus, cuncte stricte discussurus, dies irae, dies illa." It was a slower version than the one used by the Christians, and he had known it well as it had formed an integral part of his own work on the Left Hand Path.

By now three robed figures had entered the room, the last one closing the door behind them. Each held a candlestick holding a single black candle.

"Non usitata nec tenui ferer, penna beformis per liquidim et terra," standing before him the first figure spoke evocatively in a strong commanding female voice which he recognised as Emma's. Behind her the chant continued.

"You, who have failed the test, are deemed unworthy of initiation into our mysteries." A second female voice – Chantelle's - began in an ominous tone as Emma continued to speak forcefully in Latin: "Vates neque in terris morabor, longius invidiaque maior, orbis relinquaum."

"You have come here without invitation, unconsciously overpowered by your male ego, intent on fulfilling your sexual desires, but you have found nothing. There is nothing here for you anymore." As Chantelle spoke, Emma moved closer to Paul, her unseen eyes continuously looking down at his penis to see if anything she said made it harden. Behind her the Dies Irae chant came to an end.

"We are not your whores." Emma continued

"We are your death mistresses." Brigitte said approaching Paul as Chantelle continued to speak in Latin. "Dignum et justum est. Agios Athanatos."

"You have stolen the treasure from yourself." Emma continued. "You have closed the door to the mysteries by your actions. Now, feel our wrath." With her final words the three figures began screaming, their voices full of black-witch-like hatred, misery, anger and despair.

Paul trembled. Cold, unable to move, caught in a fantasy world that had gone terribly wrong.

"I do not want to…" he stammered, cut off as one of the women lashed out at him, her hand slamming against his face with a hard slap.

"SILENCE!" She shouted as her companions moved in upon him. Sharp nails dug into his chest, scratching downwards over his solar plexus and stomach being withdrawn before they reached his penis. Strangely he was becoming hard again. He felt teeth lock onto his right hand, they dug in, the jaw closed tightly then released as blood surged through the wound. Paul cried out as sharp nails dug into his scrotum, pinching his balls tightly, another hand gripped his shaft, pulling his skin backwards, revealing his purple head. Finger flicked at it, pinched it. Then the three girls started to smack his cock taking it in turns between them to flick or smack or pull it down then let it spring back upwards. Suddenly they ceased all movement, retreated away from Paul and blew out the flames of the candles that had been momentarily set aside.