No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 13byElRoylk©
Within three days she had gotten into the very simple routine: Up at dawn. Pee. Let Rani wipe her. Morning meditation followed by a simple meal of porridge and fruit. Morning work period, although she wasn't allowed to work she used the time to study her notes, mid-morning meditation followed by a light lunch. A person could lose weight at this place given how little food they ate. She was starting to feel hungry all of the time, but her mind was clear. Afternoon work period, a bath if she wanted, then afternoon Meditation followed by, yes, a light dinner. For the past three days, everyone had retired to the dormitories...everyone except Rani...and Leela.
On that first conscious night of her stay at the ashram, the two women returned her to her quarters, bedroom, suite, whatever it was. She hadn't taken a shit all day and now realized she needed to. The thought that Rani would accompany her...she stopped. Not just accompany her, but wipe her ass for her! It was too much. But she couldn't put it off forever and let the two women know what she needed.
"Of course, yuvrani, I can help you." It was Leela. She crouched down and quickly untied the bahdi.
Marcie stole a glance at Rani to see if there was any problem with this, but the other woman was busying herself with lighting candles and other domestic preparations. She let Leela take her hand and lead her into the bathroom. It was getting dark, the dusky light barely enough for Marcie to make out the footprints. She squatted, thankful for only silhouettes and shadows, and once the process started she couldn't stop it. In moments she had cleared her bowels, emptying their contents with a soft plop into the hole. The smell wasn't so bad.
"Let me, yuvrani." Leela came over with a bucket and a towel and lightly rubbed her asshole clean, dipping fresh parts of the towel into the bucket each time. She repeated the process three times. On the fourth pass, she ran her hands across her pussy, sliding a finger inside and against her clit.
"Ohhhh...what are you doing?" Immediately she felt the white fire light up her entire spine. It had been...what...two days?
"What do you want, yuvrani?"
Again, the question. She moaned as the woman's fingers did something to her. "To. embrace. the. white. Fire."
The fingering stopped. "So it's true..." She pulled out and took Marcie's hand leading her out of the bathroom...
...and into her bed that Rani had already prepared. The room smelled of rose petals and gardenias. Sitting on her bed, Rani held the bahdi, waiting for Marcie to return. Her naked body looked warm and silky; the thought she would sleep with her popped into her head and she pushed it away as a dark fantasy. As Rani applied more cream and re-tied the thong, Marcie mused on the idea: she was the princess, she could have anything. Her heart pounded at the idea: she could ask this woman to sleep with her and she likely would. But did she want her to? She was beautiful: her skin was so smooth and her breasts so inviting. She couldn't. She was marrying Monty!
Rani finished with the thong and applied more cream to Marcie's breasts, forcing a quiet moan from her. "Is everything okay, yuvrani?"
"She's fine, Rani. She just needs to embrace the white fire." This from Leela who had disrobed and sat down next to Rani. "Come to bed yuvrani, you have had a hard day."
The two women gently took Marcie's hands and drew her down onto the clean sheets, laying her down between them. She didn't protest, allowing the novitiates (monks?) lead her to the place where she could return the life force. In moments she was riding up the flickers of the fire, feeding back to each of them the arousal they were building in her.
And so it was for the past two nights. She was a Rani/Leela sandwich – a playground for their fingers and tongues, their pussies pushed against her lips, against the thong. They painted her body with their juices, their smell on her all day until her afternoon bath. She had felt twinges of guilt the first morning after.
"Why is this fair?" She asked Leela, whose fingers were teasing little moans from her.
"What is it, yuvrani?"
"This..." she motioned to the two naked women next to her. "Does Monty have two naked men next to him?" The thought that he might sent a shiver up her spine. She wasn't turned on by the idea in the least, but more importantly, he'd never mentioned anything of the sort in their time together.
"If that is what he wants."
"Or are the men allowed women in their quarters?"
"No, yuvrani, the rules are the same. But neta, he is different, yes? He has achieved something higher than any but Guru Sundar. If he asks, we would attend to him during this ritual period."
Marcie sat up alarmed, breaking the early morning calm. "Monty is fucking one of you?" She said it with a panicked accusatory tone.
"Yuvrani. Please. Not us. We have been with you the whole time."
Her response was adorable and broke the mood. Marcie stifled a laugh. "No. Leela, I didn't mean one of you, I meant one of the women here..." again she motioned to take in the whole courtyard outside her door.
"Yes, yuvrani. If he asks for one, we go. He is the...neta? It is his privilege."
"But not me. I don't get to fool around with a man because...because 'it will corrupt' me?"
"Neta is different, yuvrani. He cannot be corrupted this way. If you did not find us satisfying, we would have found you another."
Marcie smiled grimly at the thought. Again they misunderstood. His privilege. What difference does it make? He doesn't come. He explained he expected me to share. The instructions from the plane came back to her and she relaxed back down onto the bed between her companions. They had a few more minutes before the morning bell. She intended to make good use of them.
She revised her inventory of her routine to account for the activities of the two women: wake up between two naked women. Make love. Embrace the fire. Pee. Have Rani wipe her. Etc. Retire to bed, strip the two women and make love to them until they all fell asleep. It was a routine designed in heaven.
After three days she walked around in a haze, the fires, of all colors, flickering inside her. She only needed to think about the evening or morning activities and she could get herself immersed in the flames. During meditations, she only focused on being in the fire; by the time the sessions were over, she was dripping from her skin and her pussy.
On the fourth day, Mamatha pulled her aside before breakfast. "Today, yuvrani, you will begin your spiritual cleansing. No solid food today, tomorrow or the next. We will help you."
Marcie noted two things from the conversation: it was the first time Mamatha had used the reverential form and she wasn't nearly as concerned about the fasting as she would have expected: she had started to lose her need to eat. The women plied her with juices, water and teas, hydrating her, she thought, until she realized she needed to pee almost every hour. Each time she was accompanied a different woman cleaned and wiped her. Each time, the touches lit a tendril of white fire. By the end of the fourth day, she would have gone over the top without the two women in her bed. As it was, they kept her floating for what seemed like hours.
As the three days of fasting progressed, she felt changes in her body: her movements felt more fluid, as if her joints were being lubricated. Her mind was clearer than she'd ever experienced it. She was in a constant state of arousal – perhaps it was something in the teas, perhaps it was lack of food, or perhaps the constant attention of the two young women, of Leela's intoxicating touch, or Rani's bright face looking up from between Marcie's wide open legs.
Regardless, by the end of the first week, Marcie was no longer participating in the world as she had known it. She was floating, naked and exposed, on the tips of a blindingly white conflagration. Each step she took added to the flames. Each sip she swallowed pushed the flames higher. She needed all of the help she could get, just moving from one room to another, to make it through the meditations in which each heartbeat forced a small moan of pleasure from her. The women understood and assisted her participation in the real world, even as they continued to fan the flames inside her.
During a rare moment of light-headed clarity, Marcie realized she still had two weeks of preparation. She had been missing Monty the entire time – every flame reminded her of his cock, of the way he lifted her, of his camera, of the possibilities of living with him for the rest of her life. She had stopped being a person and had begun thinking of herself as a white dove, lifted high into the atmosphere by the fires inside her. She only wished she could fly over the courtyard walls, into his wings.
At the beginning of the 2nd week, Mamatha again pulled her aside. "You may begin eating again. But only a small spoonful this morning. We will help you adjust."
In spite of the new regime, her weightlessness continued, floating her higher and higher. She felt as if she were a slender balloon, held down only by the efforts of her attendants. Each day she embraced the fire at least twice and by the end of the week, three times.
She had lost track of anything in the real world, her entire existence floated. She knew she lived: she still peed and she still ate and drank, but the world held her interest very little, its weight and gravity trying to pull her down.
By the middle of the third week, she was barely present. So intense was the white fire that every breath pushed her close to it. She no longer spoke, just nodding slightly when asked a question, or moaning when Leela's lips pushed against her cunt. She knew somewhere there were words; somewhere there was something else, other than the white fire, but she had lost her ability to speak. She had begun to dissolve into the fire.
On the night before she was to be wed, the women gathered around her, holding their hands on her skin, feeling her warmth. Her eyes were not focused outward; her mind was aware only of fleeting images: colors, sensations, smells and tastes – but she had no names for any of them. They were a part of her, as was everything she came in contact with: merely another part of her.
They began to chant. Softly, in a language she never would have understood, even before the recent transformations had removed her capacity for speech. The sound was a weaving of voices, of modulations, rhythms and tones. It was hypnotic, pushing her into the fire, inviting her to let go; to be completely consumed by it. They chanted for at least an hour, but it was infinitely long from where she was. At the end, she could no longer stand by herself and they laid her on the bed to begin the final preparations.
They removed the badhi for the last time. It would not be required any longer. Mamatha retrieved a soup pot from the kitchen, its contents steaming in the cool evening: a broth for a ritual cleansing. Leela brought a bowl of cool clear water. This too would be used to clean her.
They tied her to the bed, her arms spread above her, the ankles to the side as far as her body would let her. Her pubic triangle had begun to fill in – after four weeks of not shaving and the application of ointments, it was still quite thin compared to what it would be eventually, but the beginnings of her thick bush were clearly evident against her pale skin.
Spread open, the women began to wash her one last time. Starting with the cool water, they sponged her skin from fingertip to toes. Each woman took a turn, slowly wiping her down. Each woman took her time, lingering on her chin, her breasts, her knees, massaging the cool water into her skin. After the last had finished, they turned to the broth.
Leela lifted Marcie's head while Rani spooned a little into her mouth. She wasn't unconscious, just unable to hold her head up. They helped her swallow, continuing to feed her until she couldn't eat any more. Her belly had filled perceptibly from the broth, even though she had only eaten half the pot. The women prepared for the next step, letting the broth work its way through her system. Mahitha had joined the group. She reported he was entering his marriage trance and her success in keeping him properly aroused for the past three weeks. She turned her attention to Marcie.
Marcie had no idea there were women near her. She was completely lost in the fire, one long orgasm that never finished. They continued to massage her gently, moving the broth through her. Mamatha prepared the banana leaves and bamboo, gently inserting the tube into her cunt, slowly moving it up to the spot where it stopped naturally. Marcie moaned – the tube filled her in a way that wasn't satisfying like Monty's cock would be. Though she had no words to express her disappointment, the emotion traveled through her unbidden.
With the first tube in place, the women gently lifted her by the waist, slipping several cushions under her for support. She moaned again, the tube pressed against her clit, sending waves of arousal into the fire.
The women inserted a second tube, a smaller bamboo into the unconscious bride's rectum, sliding it in with lubrication from their own yonis. Several women supported the tubes, rising above Marcie's spread-eagled form. They began to chant in unison, the words incomprehensible, but the rhythm and breathing unmistakable. The sound invoked the early wordless state of being, of ocean waves and comforting wombs. The sound seeped into Marcie's consciousness, cooling the fire at the edges, turning it into a soothing fog in her mind.
Continuing to chant, the women ladled the broth into the makeshift contraption inserted in Marcie's body, slowly and continuously, until they had filled her rectum and womb with the fluid. And then, they waited. The chanted in unison, carefully measuring the time by the number of verses they completed.
Marcie's body was incorporating the broth even as her mind was incorporating the chant. The broth she had eaten had made its way to her bladder; much of the broth in her womb had been absorbed, but the rest would need to be eliminated. The broth in her intestines had washed them clear and it too would need to be evacuated. They had tied her down to prevent her from pushing the broth out too soon. Her body was beginning to act on its own, trying to rid itself of the liquid.
The women held Marcie's labia tight against the tube; her anus pulsed against its invader. She moaned, unconscious, unaware of the assault on her body. She was floating above a wildfire; if she came down she would be burned, but if she stayed high up, she would be safe. Safe wasn't a concept as much as an unnamed reason to stay where she was.
Mamatha tested Marcie's bladder every 12th verse as was prescribed. Finally, she gave the sign and all the women stopped. Rani placed a clay pot between Marcie's legs, below the tubes entering her. Slowly, the women pulled the tube from her rectum letting a stream of broth and shit flow into the pot. Marcie moaned, her body relieved at the lessening pressure. Involuntary muscles pushed the effluent out. It was crucial to eliminate as much earth as possible from her body – his seed would seek any grounding from the 1st chakra it could find. Convinced she had eliminated the last of her bowels, the women turned to her vagina.
They slowly pulled out the tube, her pussy emitting a stream of urine and broth into the pot. Starting as a dribble, it picked up force, until a ropy flow arced away from her body. Much of it missed the pot, the yellowish stain growing on the bed. There was nothing to be done about it. It would be simple to clean it up later. The arc diminished, returning to a dribble past her asshole into the pot. Mahitha pushed lightly on Marcie's bladder, flattening it, forcing more liquid out until there were only random drops.
The sun was just creating a glow on the horizon – they didn't have much time left before the ceremony began. The chant shifted, becoming more energetic and pulsing. They untied her legs and arms, lifting her gently to her feet. She was a rag doll, completely absent and unable to stand on her own. With a woman supporting each shoulder, all but three of the gaggle left the room, leaving the others to clean up.
They walked her to the courtyard, holding her naked body out to be touched by the first rays of the sun. As the energy hit her skin, her mind registered the sensation, attracted to this new kind of warmth. Her eyes were open but unseeing. They walked her through the hallway to the glass doors leading to the other courtyard and waited.
Two of the women began to spread ointment on her skin, from her hands up her arms and across her shoulders. Two others oiled her skin from her collar bones down to her toes. The sensation of hands on her body reminded her mind of something. The chanting changed again, accompanied by the ringing of a small bell they placed next to her ear.
The sound waves warped the air in which she floated. The sensation on her skin brought her mind back from the air – she rode the ripples away from the fire. Although it remained burning brightly, she moved further and further from it, descending as she went. Finally, she came to rest on the ground. The women rang the bell one last time and they all stood away from her.
She was awake; she didn't know where she was, but she felt as if she were falling. At the last minute her body re-awakened and her legs crumpled but didn't fail her. She flailed her arms – Rani held her up until she could stand on her own and then let her go.
She stood. She was facing a blur of colors and dim lights. She could hear the chanting but couldn't tell the source. And then the blur slid away in an impossible direction to reveal a courtyard painted in watercolors, but as if the paper had been left out in the rain. All was muted colors in grey, smearing across the stones. The women helped her take the first step and then stood back. Her body moved her where it needed to go. All of the practice of the last three weeks was meant for this: to walk alone, across the courtyard to her waiting lover.
She could see a knot of people in the center, next to this courtyard's tree. Slowly she shuffled towards them. With each footstep, the sun rose a little higher, washing the grey stones with lemon yellow light. With each step her brain remembered she was a woman, that she was getting married, and that soon, very soon, she would finally get her lover's seed.
The thought moved her forward; her legs felt less like lead than like bags of straw – loose and unreliable. She continued moving towards the cluster of people, her eyes straining to see if one was Monty.
The women stayed close at hand, but behind her. This was a journey she must make herself. They knew she needed to wake up her legs – her lover would soon be penetrating her and injecting her with his life force. If she didn't have her legs on the ground the two of them would tip over.
The crowd parted allowing her to move through to the altar. Her gaggle slipped around in front of the others, ready to jump in if needed.
Monty wasn't there. Her disappointment rang through her, jarring her into reality a little further.
The chants changed again, picking up tempo. Her heart kept pace, the blood flowing through her veins awakened her, clearing the fog from her eyes. Now she could see him approaching – he too was naked, his penis beginning to enlarge. She stared at it, licking her lips in anticipation. She didn't quite know where she was, but she knew it was her wedding day and that Monty was going to fuck her for real. Finally, she would have the pleasure of taking him into her completely.