The Garden

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Theora
Theora
27 Followers

The magnolia girl rose on unsteady legs. She too had cum, from the egg inside her, controlled by Brenda's device. She returned to her pillow and again knelt.

One by one the girls came to me. Brenda called them by strange, ancient sounding words. "Seadhisthana." The orange lily. "Manipura." The daffodil. "Veshuddha." The forget-me-not. Each one came, kissed me, then delved between my legs to bring me pleasure. Each orgasm bringing me to the brink of sanity, heavenly euphoria flooding through me like none I'd ever known. I felt like I was becoming a slut, my body an instrument of pleasure for them, and the more I came, the more I wanted. Every girl's technique was different, and with each one, Brenda would softly stroke my hair and recite a few lines of poetry, and I found myself fixated, meditating, on the thoughts and feelings delivered in them as I was brought to each distinctive peak of blissful release.

But none was so incredible as hers.

"Anahata."

The rose. Her eyes. She rose eagerly to join me when she was finally called. Her robe poured from her tan, womanly body and silently puddled around her feet. It felt like I'd been waiting all day at an airport gate for my lover to finally come bursting through the opening and into my arms. When she kissed me, all I felt was fire. Her lips claimed mine in impassioned moans, and I kissed her desperately back. The room disappeared, Brenda's beautiful lyrics and all the other moans and sighs faded. Only her. Her kisses. Her body. Her hands. Her hair. Her smell. Each kiss turned this way and that, our moans growing deeper.

We locked eyes after our kiss broke, and I craved her with every fiber of me. She moved her perfect naked body between my outstretched legs and knelt. Her hands pressed over my quivering thighs and her tongue split me. I cried out. After all the pleasure I'd been lavished with, none of it compared to this. Knowing she had watched me come helplessly four times, and that now she was between my legs, was an exquisite joy. I felt a rising climax coming so fast now that I didn't want it to reach me, and I struggled to push it back down, to keep it from overtaking me. I wasn't ready for this to be over. I wanted to stay here with her all night long, her lover, her slut.

Her orgasm would not and could not be refused. As soon as I felt the word 'slut' in my mind, I felt the dual cries of "no!"and "yes!"together, sounding a desperate harmony in unison in me, their irreconcilable struggle, explode like fireworks throughout my body. I screamed, and I heard her scream as Brenda's egg inside her was dialed to its most unrelenting, unyielding number. My back lifted high off the pedestal, my breasts thrust up, waves of savage ecstasy raking through me ferociously—

I pulled a breath deep into my lungs and held it there. My mind was careening out of my body, my ears suddenly ringing in thunderous silence, like I was suddenly very small in a vast expanse of space. Rapture. I felt her arms around me—no, I felt her a part of me, inside me. Into me. My clit tingled. Pulsing. Stars twinkling in my vision. Only then did I feel her fingers curled inside me, auburn hair draped over my legs like velvet, her cheek pressed against my inner thigh.

My breath returned in racking sobs, and I felt myself plunge back into the world again with her. I ached to hold her. To embrace her, to love her. I heard the cries of orgasming girls around me. I felt lathered in my own cum, and her warm saliva. I felt wetness streaking the sides of my face, and my vision was blurry with fresh tears. I didn't realize I'd been weeping, and I didn't understand why, or what had just happened to me, but it was so wonderful I didn't care. I lifted my eyes up to Brenda.

She was staring down at me in awe.

Finally my redhaired lover had to return to her pillow. Two more girls brought me to shattering orgasms, my eyes again locked with my lover's as long as I could hold them. Fingers probed me. Tongues fluttered and flicked. Lips pressed and caressed. The last girl to be with me had a pink dahlia. All of the girls climaxed when I did, brought to writhing, heavenly cacophanies of ecstasy on their knees by Brenda's dials.

When the last of the seven had returned to her pillow, Brenda had them remove their eggs, and the little spongey tubes were collected and taken out of the room by a new girl, younger than the others, who appeared from the bath room. Probably one of the ones who bathed me, I guessed. The fragrance of our lusty sex was starting to overpower the sweet perfumes of Brenda and the seven girls. Brenda recited one last poem for us.

"This is my fair girl-garden: sweet they grow,

Rose, violet, asphodel and lily's snow,

And which the sweetest is, I do not know,

For rosy arms and starry eyes are there,

Honey-sweet voices and cheeks passing fair.

And these shall men, I ween, remember long;

For these shall bloom for ever in my song."

The new girl returned, and she presented Brenda with a little glass bottle with a crystal stopper. Brenda took it and kissed her forehead, and then nodded for her to leave. The young one left again.

Brenda walked around me, smiling down at me, unstopping the bottle. She held it over my sex-smitten mound, upright. I waited, my legs trembling.

"You've all performed beautifully tonight," she told them. "I think the patroness would be honored by each and every one of you. You are all ready to ascend one step."

I watched as the girls take their vases and pass them to their right around the room, except for the one with the magnolia. She set her vase aside. For me.

Brenda smiled to the last girl, who had passed her pink dahlia to the girl next to her, the only one left without a flower. "Sahasrara, you are now ready to meet the patroness." She beamed proudly at her graduate pupil. "You may come and anoint our new Muladhara."

Rising, the girl came to me and took the bottle from Brenda's hand, and began dribbling its liquid over my pussy, my clit, up my belly, over my breasts and nipples, and over my throat. Then she carefully dabbed some to my forehead, and ran a line of it up over my crown, and rubbed some into the top of my head. It had a powerful, pungent scent blended with sweet vanilla. I realized suddenly what it was.

Brenda knelt between my legs and pressed her lips into me, her tongue exploring me. She gave a soft moan, tasting not only my honey but the combined flavors of all seven girls. She closed her eyes and tongued me slowly and lovingly, not to bring me to orgasm—I don't think my body could have handled another—but to explore me, to learn me, to let her tongue examine all of my womanhood. Her touch was very different from the girls. I'd never had someone that much older than me so intimately touching and kissing me before, not even in my wildest fantasies. I sighed and relaxed, trusting, giving in to her explorations, and letting the pleasure of it soothe me. I felt all the eyes around me staring even more acutely now as this beautiful woman learned every fold, curve and texture of my vagina. She seemed to know how sensitive it was, and was careful not to overstimulate me. Even while exploring my clit, her tongue, creamy with the blended nectar of her girls, was comforting and tender, not taking, not exciting, only giving. As she continued, I felt her hand untying my restraints, freeing my ankles. Then she rose from me and moved around me to untie my wrists, taking my by the hand and letting me sit up. She sat next to me on the altar, took my face on her hand and brought her lips to mine, kissing me like a lover. I tasted them now, all of them, in her kiss, It was the strangest and yet the most wonderful thing I'd ever tasted. It was as if I could taste all of their love in Brenda's mouth, like they were all kissing me, together. I was now a part of them, their magnolia, their Muladhara.

I returned to that place eleven more times over the course of that year, my first year in college. Brenda gave me books to read, as gifts from the patroness. TheKama SutraandKoka Shastra, Lazzat Un Nisa, Tantra, Delta of Venus,the poetry of Sappho, and numerous erotic novels and anthologies. Anais Nin, the Marquis de Sade, A. N. Roquelaure, Vladimir Nabokov. I learned that the patroness was a very rich widow, who selected a protégée from among the graduates of the Garden every year to further train and develop her lovemaking skill, and would fully fund the chosen girl's higher education from that point on. It was a truly magnificent prize, and even though it would have been marvelous if I had won, the experiences in the Garden and everything I learned from my time with them was more than enough. I entered a mere seedling, and I left there fully blossomed.

Although I never saw her again after my graduation, I was allowed to share several incredible nights with my redheaded lover. I craved her, we craved each other, and Brenda knew it. But one of the rules, inviolate, was that we never knew each other's names, and Brenda refused to break this rule for us. One night, after a toe-curling, heart-stopping lesson insoixante-neuf, my lover kissed me on the cheek and embraced me, and in that embrace whispered a single word only I could hear:

"Lina."

I went back to the club dozens of times to wait for her. I went to other clubs. I went to restaurants. To parties. For years after my time in the Garden I looked for her. I never saw her again. With a heavy heart I left that college town, but as the years passed I eventually married a kind man, started having children and building the family I always wanted.

* * *

I am thirty-six years old. My Lina is standing before me, grasping my hand, the recognition in her eyes unmistakable. For that moment, I forgot all about my MRI leasing contract, about construction and logistics, fees, services, liability stipulations. I didn't know what was going to happen next. It didn't matter. We were together again, and it was magical.

"Hello, Lina," I said, softly.

"Hello again."

Theora
Theora
27 Followers
12
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5 Comments
GrrrreatImaginationGrrrreatImaginationalmost 11 years ago
Verrrry nice.

I enjoyed the artistry of this story very much. Flashes of memory sometimes can take us like this story did it's protagonist. Such a wonderfully intense scene as she began to blossom, and then back to the office.

I noticed there was not another in this series. I hope you are tempted to write more about this; either the characters here or another seasons garden.

jpb531jpb531almost 11 years ago
Lovely story

Thanks so much for sharing your words.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
Beautiful initiation rite

Beautiful initiation rite - shame this is your only story:-(

KathyFKathyFabout 13 years ago
So Sexciting

The Build Up Is Quite Intense - Then Seven Different "Flowers".

Lina / "The Tose' Has Reapeared After Such A Long Time.

Ohhhh Please Continue On With This.

Kisses

AnonymousAnonymousabout 13 years ago
purrs

I love this. I cant say how alluring this was..the vivid images of sight, sound, smell. Its exudes sexy. The softer , more intimate portrayal of lesbian love is often overlooked.

The author knows how I feel about her...as her and I have shared our own intimate moments...gentle yet passionate lovemaking that left us each in tears...but those feelings dont cloud my judgement or opinion of this simply masterful submission. It is my sincere wish that she continues to write, and bring passion to life .

K.C.

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