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The TempleChapter 19 free porn video
Thompson sank slowly into the Temple’s caldarium, the bath’s intense heat causing him to gasp as he did so.
“Jesus Christ, that’s good,” he said, once he was immersed all the way to his chin. The hetaera in attendance raised an eyebrow. “Best not to let the Superior hear that,” she said. “Beg pardon, Miss,” said Thompson, adding negligently, “force of habit. Mustn’t swear.” The young lady frowned, bent down, and ran her fingers through Thompson’s hair. Her lips just barely touched his earlobe, inducing Thompson to think a pleasant encounter was about to begin. Her words disabused him.
“If I wasn’t afraid of marking you, I’d slap your face right now,” she said, gripping his hair tightly and pulling back Thompson’s head while twisting a nipple to add emphasis to her message, “but if you use His name again in Her Temple, by the Goddess you’ll pay the price.” Thompson stared into the hetaera’s angry eyes, and once again begged pardon, this time with understanding and sincerity. “That’s better,” said the hetaera, releasing her harsh grip. “Is it safe for me to get the Superior now? Any risk of silly outbursts?” “None whatsoever, Miss. None at all,” said Thompson. The hetaera placed some oil and soap at the water’s edge, and departed, leaving Thompson in the solitude of the baths.
Thompson wondered if he would ever learn all the Temple’s rules. He had not needed to be told that foul language was not permitted in the Temple, but until now he had not known that the very name of his parent’s deity was an offence. It had always been hard for Thompson to govern his speech. English was his second language, his first being the low profanity that he had learned from the crib. The household (if such it could be called) in which he was raised, was an alcohol-fueled crucible for his parents’ disputes, played out in front of the children on a regular basis, the air aflame with their ungoverned speech. It was years before Thompson learned that there were different rules for language in the house, and outside of it, for in the school, and outside during recess. Now, in his early forties, Thompson still had to work to control his swearing, for if unguarded or angered, his default setting was to curse like a stevedore. And for him, “Jesus!” was the mildest and most frequent of expletives, a word which he must now work hard to expunge from his vocabulary. He resolved that when he got home, he would spend an hour in the basement before Aphrodite’s statuette, praying for assistance. He was grateful to the hetaera who had just now corrected him. It would have been far worse to learn the lesson from the Superior herself. Thompson heard the soft sounds of bare feet padding against the Temple’s stone floors. Alice entered the caldarium, flanked by two hetaerae whom she dismissed upon entering. Thompson began to rise from the water, but Alice bade him stay.
“You can call me ‘Alice’ until the others join us. And no need to avert your eyes, either, Bernie. Not after this afternoon, and not while we’re alone. “ Thompson accepted the invitation, and watched as Alice shrugged, the white fabric slipping from her shoulders and pooling on the floor. Thompson had departed Alice’s chambers barely an hour earlier, but his eyes nonetheless eagerly took in Alice’s perfection. Alice was tall, just short of six feet, and like any hetaera, in perfect physical condition. Excess fat there was none, but the Superior’s breasts were a full 40D, too large for some women, but perfectly in proportion for Alice. The women’s lips were a healthy, warm red even without any lipstick to adorn them, her teeth white and glowing in her smiling dark face. For dark it was, Alice possessing the darkest complexion Thompson had ever seen, other than that of Aphrodite herself when, on one occasion some years earlier, Thompson had seen the Goddess in her stunning aspect as Luamerava.
Alice liked being admired. It was rare when she, a Temple Superior, could permit a male to openly gaze at her, and she made the most of the opportunity. She stood at the other side of the pool, and her breasts swayed gently when she placed a hand on a broad hip. “Like what you see, Bernie?” Something in Alice’s pose and manner invoked in Thompson memories of his last encounter, years before, with Aphrodite herself, and in awe, he said, “I do, and if I liked you any more, it would be a sin against the Goddess.”
“Flatterer,” said Alice, not displeased. She stepped easily into the pool’s deep heat, and half swam, half waded over to Thompson, seating herself on the bench next to him, their thighs touching. Alice put an arm around him, and Thompson felt the swell of a breast against his arm. His manhood rose at the touch, and at the memories of their coupling earlier that day. Alice noticed, and her free hand encircled his hardness. She tongued his ear, her hand lightly gripping his shaft and gently pumping up and down. Thompson turned his face towards her, and they kissed. Alice’s hand moved faster. Thompson began to gasp. “Alice -- if you don’t -- I’m close -- Alice! --”
Alice broke off their kiss, and Thompson thought she had only been teasing. But then the Superior sank under the water, and Thompson felt himself engulfed by Alice’s welcoming mouth. It was strange that this mouth, which had felt so hot on his flesh earlier that day, was almost cool in the heat of the caldarium. He felt the slightest pressure on his thighs from Alice’s hands, and knew this was a command to spread his legs wide. He did so, and then at Alice’s further pressure raised them even higher. Her mouth released him, but only so that she could come up for air and the bottle of massage oil the hetaera attendant had left behind. She lathered her hands, and standing before Thompson, place a lubricated finger at Thompson’s entrance. “Look at me, Bernie,” she said, and with the two of them staring into each other’s eyes, her finger snaked inside him and unerringly found his prostate. Thompson, having been told to look at Alice, kept his eyes on hers. He knew why Alice wanted him to maintain eye contact: she wanted to see in his eyes that he knew he was being dominated. And Thompson did know he was being controlled. No human being had ever controlled him the way Alice could.
For one thing, Alice, as a Temple Superior, had quite literally the power of life and death over him and everyone else in the Temple. This fact alone would have accounted for Thompson’s complete submission. But there was more to it than that. Years earlier, when Alice had been an escort working in a massage parlour frequented by Thompson, he had found himself feeling the same absurd love for her that he felt for Geeta. She had been young, perfect and willing, and Thompson had adored her for what she did for his body, and his soul. And now, despite the passage of time, Alice looked, if anything, even younger, for Temple residents did not age as did those outside, but instead slowly reverted (or if very young when first inducted, advanced) to the age at which their beauty peaked. And there they would remain, until released by death (natural or otherwise) or (in rare cases) expulsion from the temple. The woman’s youth and beauty cried out for worship, and Thompson adored her. As Alice pleasured his core, he realized that even before he had known of the Goddess’s existence, he had recognized the deity that resonated within Alice, and had responded to Her.
Another reason for Thompson’s total submission was the superior’s sheer physical strength. Alice stood before him, easily holding him in place while she did as she pleased with him, and to him. Even if he had felt a foolish desire to disobey, to try to eject her hand from inside him, he knew that it would have been impossible to do so. And there was one final reason Thompson lay splayed, naked and open to Alice, and this reason too Alice read in her eyes: Thompson loved what she was doing to him. His rock-hard cock, his gasps, the way he gripped her shoulders not to fend her off, but to ensure he remained in place for her, all betrayed his willing surrender. Alice briefly broke off, oiled her hands once more and then the single digit was replaced by two, Thompson barely noticing the increased invasion.
“You like this, don’t you, Bernie?” she whispered, gently kissing Thompson while she slowly finger fucked him with one hand, her other hand enjoying his erection. Thompson begged her not to stop, but to do more, faster and harder.
“I might. If you’re a good boy,” she said. “But first, answer me this. Do you want it badly enough, that you would let me do this to you, with some of my hetaerae watching?”
“I wouldn’t care at all,” Thompson answered, precum leaking out of him at the thought.
“And if those hetaerae were your own daughters?”, she said, tonguing his ear. “If Anna and Liz were here, would you want them to see their own father like this?”
“I don’t fucking care about anything right now,” said Thompson. Alice’s free hand rebuked him with a gentle slap. “Language, dear,” she said, making Thompson suck on her finger by way of apology. “And suppose I made a video of this, or streamed it live? Would you care?”
“About what?” said Thompson, no longer understanding mere words, past feeling anything now but the pleasure Alice was giving him and the joy of his submission to her.
The day had started early for him, with a call well before dawn on a Saturday. He left behind his warm bed and his beautiful, willing wife at the Temple’s summons, a summons which included an express command not to wear his badge. Without the badge, he would not enjoy the freedom of the temple. He would not arrive to be pleased by fawning hetaerae eager to cater to his every wish, but instead, to serve, his status in the temple as low or lower than the gardiner, a servant to do as he was bidden. The sun was only just breaking the horizon when he arrived at the Temple on the Toronto Islands, and within minutes after his arrival, he found himself wearing only a loincloth, put to work on the most menial tasks. The temple’s second in command, Penelope, pale skinned and red haired with a fiery temper to match, put him under the charge of Anippe, a recently inducted and thus very junior hetaera, and under the latter’s harsh tutelage, he cleaned a large kitchen that to his eyes already looked immaculate, but he had to repeat the task twice before the young woman pronounced herself satisfied. “Thank god I’m done,” said Thompson, knowing that the remark was a mistake even before Anippe’s slap reddened his cheek.
“You’re done, when I say you are done,” said Anippe. The girl could not have been older than sixteen, barely broke five feet in height and surely weighed less than a hundred pounds. She’d had to reach high to strike Thompson. But to him, Anippe was all-powerful and untouchable, and he quailed under her disapproval. Eager to make amends and to avoid further punishment, he had redoubled his exertions cleaning a storage room, gladdened when Anippe noticed and remarked on the effort he put into the task. “Better. Much better. We might not be here all day, if you keep this up.”
It was approaching noon when Anippe directed Thompson towards yet another task, opening the door to a shower room. Thompson reached into the bucket he carried to pull out a brush and start work, but Anippe bade him put the bucket down.
“You’re done, at least for now. I’ll overlook your earlier impertinence, and will report to my elder sister Penelope that you did your tasks with a willing diligence. Surprisingly well, in fact, for a man. But you stink. So take a shower, and make it short. When you’re done, grab a robe from the closet, and then present yourself in the tablinum within ten minutes.” Thompson knelt, kissed the girl’s feet, and expressed thanks for the privilege of having worked under Anippe’s instruction. The girl sensed his sincerity, acknowledged the compliment, and departed. In a fraction of the ten minutes allotted to him, Thompson was at the tablinum, where Penelope once again joined him.
“Anippe was very surprised at how well you did. She is not aware that you have already experienced a fair dose of our Temple training. What did you think of her?”
Surprised at being asked to express an opinion about anything at all, let alone a hetaera, Thompson blurted the first words that came out of his head. “She’s gorgeous! - I mean - as far as I can tell, she is a very good hetaera, I’m sure,” he added, stumbling over his words and fearing a swift rebuke. But Penelope only laughed. “Doubtless you’ll pay her a visit when you next return to the Temple bearing your badge.”
“I respectfully agree, Miss. That is exactly what I would like to do.” All during the long morning, it had helped him get through his labours to imagine what it would be like to possess Anippe, to take her from behind, his hand pressing her head down into the pillows while he fucked her furiously.
“Anippe doesn’t know much about you, and nothing of your badge, so I’m sure she’s in for quite a shock next time you visit. Follow me.” Penelope turned, exited the tablinum and walked outside past the peristyle and into the enormous garden bordered by the four sides of the Temple. Thompson kept himself five paces behind her, his eyes looking only at her feet and not her shapely form. Even taking a shortcut across the garden, it took a while to reach the opposite corner of the Temple, and the anteroom to the Superior’s chambers. Seeing Penelope, the hetaera in attendance opened the door. But Penelope stopped short of entering.
“The Superior will see you now, Thompson. I may be summoned later, but for now, you’re on your own. Inside!”, she added with a gesture, and Thompson hastened through the door, the hetaera shutting it firmly behind him. He heard Alice’s contralto voice summon him, and he walked through the anteroom, to find Alice seated at a table set for one. She wore not the formal dress we was accustomed to seeing a Superior wear, but instead a white tunic, the only decoration a broad purple stripe at the shoulders. Thompson knelt in greeting, and rising, noticed the food, and realized he was starving. He had not eaten breakfast that day, and it was already past lunch time.
“May I serve you, Hetaera Superior?” he said, and receiving Alice’s assent, stood behind and to her right, knowing from his Temple training how to wait on a Superior. Once Alice was finished, she allowed Thompson to be seated at table and to eat what remained, observing with amusement how the man struggled not to wolf down his food. Finishing, Thompson asked if she would like him to clean up.
“Not yet. Come with me.” Alice got up, and Thompson immediately stood as well, and followed Alice through a door that she opened with a mere gesture, and found himself inside the Superior’s bedroom. He had been here once before, years earlier. But the room had been redecorated, and nothing was familiar. “Sit,” said Alice, and Thompson deposited himself on a settee, while Alice seated herself on her bed, crossing her long, slim legs.
“I won’t spend much time on preliminaries,” she said, “nor will I bother with subtleties or euphemisms. There is a certain loneliness, almost isolation, that every Superior has to deal with. When you’re the woman in charge, you have to always be careful to maintain your authority, to do nothing that would lessen you in the eyes of those whom you expect to obey your orders. That’s one thing. And then there’s another. This temple is inhabited entirely by women, other than the gardiner, and he doesn’t count, being a mere servant. Hardly a man in sight, other than the guests who are permitted to sleep with our hetaerae. And of course a Superior could never allow a guest into her bed. That’s totally out of the question.
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