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The TempleChapter 24 free porn video
“The edge is a bit dull,” said Alice. She’d been at her task for some time, and this was the second time the blade had needed sharpening. Liz accepted the razor from her superior and soon the not unpleasant sound of the blade being sharpened on a whetstone blended with the other sounds of the temple’s peristylium: the play of a large fountain; the doves in the temple’s rafters; summer insects. Underneath all these pleasant summer sounds was a quiet but constant high-pitched moan, almost a keening. The sound came from the mouth of the man tied to the table over which Alice and her hetaerae stood.
“What did you say?” ask Alice, looking down at the man. Another noise drifted up from the table, only slightly louder. When they’d started, Jonathan Ansah had screamed. He screamed a lot. Gradually the screams turned to moans, and then to a weak, soft sound. Now it took all his strength merely to whisper a few words.
“ ... finish me...”
“I will finish you, to be sure,” said Alice. “But that will be quite a while. I’m not much more than half done.” She accepted the freshly-sharpened razor, and started to work once more. Almost all the skin had been removed from the left side of Ansah’s body, and Alice was just getting started on the right. But removing the skin from Ansah’s face was reserved for last, this being the most delicate work, especially considering that she wished to remove the skin all in one piece.
“Why one piece,” asked Penelope, “Why not just remove one strip at a time?”
“I’ll be sending it to the Chancery office, and I think it will make more of an impression if it’s complete,” said Alice.
“How long can he last?” asked Liz.
Alice smiled. “As long as I want.” She lowered her mouth to Ansah’s ear. “I’ve got bad news for you. Very bad news. I can heal you, you know. With just a touch I can heal you and restore your skin, and end the pain.” Ansah found hope in these words, and the hope was sufficient to overcome the pain, at least for a short moment.
“Heal me. I beg you. If you aren’t going to kill me, I beg you, make me right again.”
“Remember, I said that it was bad news that I could heal you,” said Alice, her blade cutting through flesh and skin. Ansah found the strength to scream once more, his first such cry in some time. “The reason that’s bad news is that once we’re done, once I’ve removed all your skin and your manhood, once you are a mere ball of emasculated bleeding flesh, I will send your skin to your masters. Then, and only then, I will cure you. I will cure you so that I can remove your skin a second time, to be hung in our trophy room. That’s why it’s bad news that I can heal you. I guess if you think about it, it’s kind of fitting. You’re in a temple to the Goddess, and you’re going to be punished the way the ancients punished their enemies. You’re going to be punished over and over again this way while you’re on earth. And when I finally do end your life and send you on, when I hang you upside down over the altar and cut your throat., the Goddess will take you to her. You will cross the river to her underworld, and the punishment you feel now will resume once more, and you will be tortured to the end of time.”
Ansah gathered what he knew was the last of his strength. Since shortly before his ordeal had started and the pain had overwhelmed him, his lips had moved in prayer to a god that would not save him, not in this life, nor the next. Now his lips moved once more, and he whispered another prayer, only just audible to Alice and her hetaerae. Ansah prayed, but this time, to the Goddess.
“Took you long enough,” said Alice, kneeling, knowing what was now to come. Her hetaerae knelt with her, and with their heads bowed they sensed Aphrodite’s presence among them.
“Rise,” said the Goddess, and when they complied they saw their deity not in her usual aspect as Aphrodite, dressed in a simpler, less adorned style, the dominant colour of her apparel being a unique and unmistakable blue, the blue that marked the Goddess’s aspect of Mother Mary.
“You called to me?” asked the Goddess.
“I called to the Goddess,” said Ansah, puzzled at but grateful for the sudden respite from the agony that had consumed him, “because Yahweh has forsaken me. And yet you are here, Mother Mary.”
“Whatever you have to say, I suggest you say it quickly. The blade will be sharpened once more and then it will be put to use.”
Ansah stifled his inner confusion that his call to a pagan Goddess had resulted in the presence of the Mother of Christ. That prayer, unlike those to his God, had resulted in something concrete, and had stopped the pain. Perhaps it was best to continue in the same vein. Ansah prayed once more, and for the first time in his life, in the very presence of a deity, to the Goddess herself. He renounced his faith. He confessed that he’d come to a very late and imperfect understanding of the Goddess. He repented and apologized for everything he’d ever done in Yahweh’s service. He begged to be allowed to serve the Goddess to the end of his days, but if those days were to end now, he asked that he be permitted to kneel but once before the Goddess, to mitigate whatever punishment awaited him after death.
“I take it you are begging for your life, and your soul?” said the Goddess.
“Yes!” cried Ansah.
“You should have just said so when Alice captured you. It would have saved you a lot of pain.” The Goddess spread her cloak over Ansah, and when she removed it, an entirely healed and now unbound Ansah stared up at them. Ansah’s tears had stopped some time before, but they started again when he beheld that the Goddess now appeared differently to him, the blue robe gone and the Goddess garbed in a flowing white gown. He requested permission to rise, and when this was granted he did so, but only so that he could kneel at the Goddess’s feet. His thanks poured out, and would have gone on without end had the Goddess not placed her hand on his head to silence him.
“I”m not exactly known for being forgiving,” said Aphrodite, “and you owe your life not so much to my leniency, but rather, because you are highly enough placed in the Church’s lay hierarchy that you can be of some use to me. You will spend a month at my temple, where you will be trained. You will then return to the world and your old existence: the brokerage, the Church, your old Opus Dei life. You will atone for what your people did to Michelle Thompson by being my eyes and ears inside the local Opus Dei structure, but with I hope more success than Michelle had.” The Goddess turned to Alice. “The training starts now. I release him to you, and will be back in a month to check on your progress.” With that the Goddess was gone.
“You are one lucky son of a bitch,” said Alice.
“I agree,” said Ansah, who had stood at the Goddess’s departure. Alice silenced him with a harsh look and he immediately knelt once more, his body shivering with terror.
“It is equally bad to agree as to disagree with any opinion I may express, for I am your superior, and you are nothing. You not just the servant, but the slave to everyone in this temple. If anyone expresses an opinion and you feel you are required to acknowledge what has been said, you can use the phrase, ‘as you say.’ Do you understand,”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The hetaerae gasped and Liz stepped forward to deal with the situation. Alice stopped her.
“This man has so much to learn. He does not even know how to address me. We should expect nothing else, given that he was raised to follow Yahweh. He cannot help being ignorant of our ways. Liz, for the next couple of days, you and the rest will correct him, but gently, with stern words and looks. Only after two days have passed will you use our usual methods.”
“Yes, Hetaerae Superior.”, said LIz. She turned to Ansah and bade him rise. “We, the women of the temple, are permitted to address our Hetaera Superior as just that: Hetaera Superior. We can also address her as ‘Mother’. You, on the other hand, have no options. You will address her as ‘Mother’. Got it?”
“Yes, but may I ask how I address you?”
“You will address me at all times as Elder Sister, or just ‘Sister’ for short, and when you meet Penelope, the temple’s second in command, you will address her as Eldest Sister.”
“Thank you, Elder Sister,” said Ansah. Liz’s answering smile calmed the worst of his terrors, and he let himself be led away by a junior hetaera to start his training.
“Mother” said Liz, “I ask permission to speak to you about something that has to do with my family, but which might affect the Temple.”
“The unfortunate passing of your mother, I assume.”
“Yes.” The funeral had taken place the month before, and the punishment of the offending Opus Dei spy had been suspended for the customary thirty days. In the interval Liz had the time she needed to mourne and to grieve. And today, something even better: she had had vengeance, for the agony of her mother’s enemy had pleased her greatly. “My mother’s gone, and with her passing, who will raise Felix? I love him almost as much as Anna does. But I have my duties, and Anna has even more.” This was true. Anna had impressed the temple superior greatly, and so Alice had advanced her ahead of others, so that she was regarded as one of the more senior women instead of a junior hetaera.
“Your housekeeper, Zophia: could she not raise Felix with her own son? The children are half-brothers, so that would make sense.”
“Yes, Mother. Zophia could raise Felix. She loves him almost as much as Leon. But I would not want my nephew raised entirely by that woman. She’s ok, but she’s nothing like me or my sister. Or like mom was. She’s nice and she has the best intentions, but my nephew deserves better than her as his parent.”
“And yet I suspect that there is something else that you are worried about. I think I can guess, but tell me.”
“Yes, I am worried. I worry that my middle-aged, grieving father might be so foolish as to marry Zophia. She’s a beautiful teenager with a tight and willing body and who happens also to be the mother of one of his children. I worry not only because my father has a cock, but more that he has a heart. And Zophia loves him. She loves him sincerely and genuinely and she would love him even if he did not have a penny to his name. She’s no gold digger. My father knows this. I’ve seen what he’s like with her when I’m home. I don’t think they’re sleeping together, not just yet. I mean they slept together before, of course, all the time, but since my mother died my father hasn’t been with anyone, so far as I know. Zophia has been respectful, and has kept her distance from him. Either that, or she knows I’d whip her ass if I had the slightest hint that she’d fucked my father less than a month after my mother’s murder. But anyways, yes, I am worried. My dad and Zophia - now that the mourning time is over, I bet within a week they’ll be fucking, within a month she’ll have moved upstairs to his bed, and within a year, she’ll have a ring on her finger.”
It was 7:14 am and Thompson had been in his office for almost two hours, annotating a PDF of a trial transcript.
“Another fucking stupid answer,” said Thompson, chuckling. It was always nice to have a killer quote when responding in the Court of Appeal.
“What was the question?”
Thompson turned, rose and knelt. “Goddess,” was all he could manage before the tears started and his voice closed. It had been a long time since he’d seen his deity.
Aphrodite raised him, and took him to the couch. They sat together, Thompson resting his head on the shoulder of a divine being. Thompson poured out his tears, and in those tears he poured out his love of the Goddess, and at the same time he cried his grief, his grief at losing his wife and the mother of his daughters. It was a loss, and a wound, an injury, a permanent tear in his soul. All this poured out in his tears, the Goddess accepted his tears. For in those tears was also Thompson’s surrender. He gave up to the Goddess his mind, his reason, his freedom, his very right to exist. He surrendered his very soul to her, and She accepted. She held him until his shoulders stopped shaking and his tears ceased to flow.
“I will not heal you. I am pleased that you had the sense not to ask, but I know what you want, and what you want is for me to heal you at an instant. That I will not do. You are a man, an older and experienced man, yet there is much you have to learn, which means you have more to suffer. For we all, even us Gods, must suffer, if we are to learn. But there is a purpose to your suffering, and you will find it. And along the way, you will be healed of the loss of your wife. I will tell you how you will be healed. It is by love. Only by love. Some men think it is a betrayal of their deceased spouse to fall in love with another, but they are wrong. Your wife is gone, but you are here, and so are your daughters, and now you have two sons as well. You are blessed. Yes, you have suffered a great loss, but I tell you as a Goddess, as your Goddess, as your Mother, as all these things I tell you that you are blessed, and that you will be happy once more, and that you will find happiness in love, and in that love you and in your wife to be and in your present and future children you and all of them will find happiness in my love. I will leave you now, and when I leave, you will go to my Toronto Temple, and wait for instructions from Alice, the Temple Superior whom I esteem most highly, my blessings upon her. “ She was gone before Thompson had time to bow his head. He knelt at the spot where she had sat, and would have knelt there a very long time but for the Goddess’s command. It was to be obeyed forthwith, and Thompson grabbed his jacket and headed for the elevator, hoping that he would catch the next ferry just as it was getting ready to leave. After a brisk walk his hope proved true, and he soon was docking at the Island.
Geeta snapped her fingers as she walked past her assistant’s desk. “I’ll see that report in fifteen minutes. Fifteen fucking minutes. Got it?”
“Yes, Ms. Gudapati,” the young man said, his answer automatic. For the last month Geeta had been a cruel being in the office. Fierce, predatory, eager to give real vengeance for imagined slights, intolerant of delay, let alone failure. The light that had been inside Geeta had dimmed, and some wondered whether it might have gone out. Geeta’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse, not bothering to look at the caller i.d.
“Yeah,” she said carelessly, the tone almost a fuck you.
“Are you busy? Am I interrupting something? Is there a time when you would like me to call you back?” said Alice’s voice in Geeta’s ear, terrifying the young woman and bringing her to her knees. She did not even bother to close the door, and cared not that she was in view of anyone that cared to look.
“No, Hetaera Superior, no I do beg your pardon I did not know please--”
“S’ok. You can get up now. I can tell that you’re kneeling. Now listen: Come downstairs, this instant. I am waiting at the elevators to take you to my Temple.” The call ended, and Geeta ran for the elevator, risking a hand to stop the door closing. The elevator was crowded, but the other occupants, all men, did not mind as Geeta’s lush body squeezed amongst them. Geeta did mind, and she also minded that they were all men. It bothered her that she was the only female trader on her floor.
It felt like an eternity before the elevator reached ground and the men around her poured out, joining the human mass that constantly moved in and out of the busy office building throughout the day. Geeta looked about for Alice, and then saw her, for as the crowd approached the Superior they parted. In their dark suits the men gave Alice a wide berth, and they looked like an ocean wave breaking on a beautiful, shining rock. Alice was still and unmoving, and after the crowd flowed around her she stood, her deep black skin accented by the white dress she wore and the whiter coat that hung over it.
“Over here, Geeta,” said Alice, taking her through a door near the elevators. They turned a corner, and after taking a quick glance about, Alice embraced Geeta and in an instant they were at the Temple on the Toronto Islands.
“I didn’t know that superiors could do that,” said Geeta.
“Takes a while before we develop the skill. And it is pretty handy. Besides, we don’t have a lot of time. The wedding’s in an hour.”
“Wedding? Whose wedding?”
“Thompson’s. Bernie’s tying the knot.”
Geeta was shocked. It had to be Zophia, of course. She wondered what Anna and Liz would think of that. Would Zophia get above herself? Would she forget her place? Geeta doubted that; she’d heard stories about how Liz and Anna had treated their own mother: they had demanded Michelle’s obedience, and taken whatever steps were necessary to obtain it. Zophia had been in the house to witness all this, so she would know there would be consequences if she put on airs.
But suppose Anne and Liz didn’t like the idea of their father marrying so soon, barely a month after the death of his wife? If they hated Zophia, the peace of the house would be destroyed. Geeta kept her face composed as these thoughts ran through her head.
“We’ve got to get dressed,” said Alice, beckoning Geeta to follow her. Geeta did so, five steps behind the Superior as custom demanded. She tried to keep her gaze down, but she could not help noticing the occasional friendly smile directed her way by this or that hetaera that they passed. It had been a long time since Geeta had been in the temple, and she supposed that the women were merely being friendly. They reached a distant part of the temple, and a door opened at a gesture from Alice. Geeta followed her into a large room that had long closets, many mirrors and a pair of attendants to help them dress. All that, and the Goddess as well. She appeared in her aspect of Lakshmi, sitting on a dais in the lotus position, her four arms on display. The strength left Geeta’s legs. She knelt, and the tears flowed.
“Just like Thompson this morning,” said Lakshmi, “He cried like an infant when I showed up in his office. Very sweet.” The Goddess smiled, and Geeta’s soul warmed. Her tears stopped. “Stand, child. It’s time for us to put on our saris for the wedding.”
The Goddess rose, and stepping down from the dais, led Geeta to a long table, on which dozens of saris were laid out.
“May I?” asked Geeta, extending a hand. Lakshmi nodded. Geeta’s hand touched a green sari, a pure green not unlike the shade of Geeta’s eyes. “This one, Lakshmi, if I may.” Lakshmi laughed lightly, and said, “You must learn to listen to your Goddess. I did not say that it was time to choose your sari. I said it was time to put it on.” One of Lakshmi’s lower arms reached out, and passed Geeta a sari.
The sari was red, decorated with gold, real gold, and the red that it decorated glowed in reply, a shining scarlet that called out to all the wearer’s good fortune. It was a scarlet sari. The colour of a bride’s wedding sari.
“Well, at least you found out sooner than I did,” said Thompson to Mrs. Thompson over dinner later that evening. They were at 360. The food was nothing special, but it didn’t have to be. 360 was called 360 because the restaurant looked out on the city from every direction, over a thousand feet above ground. The view of Toronto was spectacular. Mr. Bernard Thompson and Mrs. Geeta Thompson sat side-by-side, looking down on the Islands and where they had been married earlier that day.
“Come on,” said Geeta, “I call bullshit. I found out just before they dressed me in my red wedding sari. So when did you find out?”
“When Alice pulled back your veil. Until then I did not know. I swear it. I did not know. But I was very, very glad to see your face.”
After the Goddess had left his office, Thompson hastened as ordered to the Temple on the islands, to await instructions. He brought with him his badge that gave him the freedom of the Temple, and used it to gain entrance. But once inside he surrendered his badge to the nearest hetaera, explaining that he had come to the Temple under orders, and so he brought the badge only to obtain easy entrance. He sought no privileges. The hetaera nodded her approval.
“The Superior called ahead to tell us to expect you. We would have admitted you instantly even without your badge. But I appreciate that you surrendered it. Quite proper. Now follow me.” The woman walked off and Thompson kept pace behind her. He had never been introduced to this particular hetaera, and so did not even know her name. She was tall, with a true hourglass figure, and her robes did not conceal her shapely figure. Thompson enjoyed the gentle sway of her--
“Thompson!” said Alice. Thompson froze. He was at a loss to account for her presence. She had appeared as suddenly as if she’d turned a corridor, but there was no corridor. Thompson knelt. Alice shooed the hetaera away, and bade him raise. “I cannot believe what I just saw! You come here under my orders and bearing no badge, and yet you have the nerve, the gall, the balls to stare at the ass of one of the Goddess’s hetaerae? How dare you?”
“I beg pardon,” said Thompson, adding that it was not his first offence, nor the first time he’d been caught. He asked to be dealt with as a repeat offender.
“Stand up, idiot,” said Alice, “It pisses me off that you always seem to know exactly what to say to catch a break. Why is that? Why is that every time I want to whip your ass, you somehow say something gets you off? Is this some kind of lawyer bullshit?”
“Yes, a bit,” said Thompson, incapable of being anything less than utterly candid with Alice, “but while there’s lots of different approaches a lawyer has to pleading his cause, when I’m pleading my own my case and I know I’m in the wrong, there’s only one method I use. I admit my guilt. I just admit it, and I accept the punishment.”
“Well, I”m not actually mad at you anyways. A man wouldn’t be a man if his eyes did not wander occasionally. Just don’t go overboard. Even better, don’t get caught.” Alice waved a hand, and a door to the nearest room opened. She walked in, and Thompson followed behind. He closed the door.
Libbie
- 01.03.2020
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