Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2002 01:42:47 -0500
From: dxplato@cs.com
Subject: The Sacred Whore

                    The Sacred Whore                3/19/02

                        -- by Cream Pie Boy


            "Not for every man is the voyage to Corinth"
                    -- Herodotus

    As they drove along the winding hillside road that overlooked the
turquoise Gulf of Corinth, Professor Jon Mitchell thought about the ancient
reputation of the city that lay beneath them, in short, he thought about
sex. As a history professor of Classical Studies at the American University
in Athens, he could imagine it in great detail.  Corinth was once Sin City
in a way that Vegas would never be sin city.  Straddling the isthmus
between two seas, it was the stopping off place for many an ancient
mariner.  In its heyday, there were over ten thousand prostitutes working
in brothels and walking the streets in a city of fifty thousand, and
another thousand, mostly donated slaves, who served in the Temple of
Aphrodite.  He enjoyed fantasizing about walking its streets and
"worshiping" at the temple, an escape from his life as a faithful and
frustrated husband.  It was spring, May 1st, and this got the sap running
through his loins.  His loins weren't choosy: he craved both men and women.

    His wife Laura who dozed on the seat beside him was, though gorgeous,
quite straitlaced and entirely incorruptible.  Despite her brown bedroom
eyes, cute button nose, and a figure that was athletic but with ample
breasts, sex with her always occurred in the missionary position and under
the sheets.  And, though she didn't mind receiving, she only bestowed the
rare blow job as a special treat, one to be immensely appreciated.  The one
time he mentioned a threesome, leaving the gender of the third party open,
she had ranted for an hour.  Yet he remained true, if only because he
lacked the balls to pursue an affair. She was wearing her dark hair short,
just as the women of Corinth had.  He slid a hand up her toned tanned thigh
and under her short black skirt; she slapped his hand.  Through the
eucalyptus trees and holly oaks, he could see the new Corinth, a much
smaller city, and the Acrocorinth, an immense outcropping of rock which
rose nearly two thousand feet above it, and upon which the temple had been
built.

    The invitation to the villa of Countessa Sibyl Lagnos for the
"Symposium on the New Archaeologic Finds Relating to the Fertility Cults of
the Ancient World" was intriguing both academically and due to the
Countess's notoriety of nebulous origin and unclear character.  She was old
money and was much talked about in archaeologic circles, though no one
seemed to know for what.  Most of the other invitees taught in other
disciplines, and Mitchell suspected that their coming was simply a matter
of social status and elitism.  He couldn't imagine spending the evening
with a more boring group of people.  It had been far from a blanket
invitation to the faculty, and the guests were some of the most prosaic and
conservative members of the university.  At any party he had attended,
Robert Krakow, professor of Economics and incredible bore, and his wife
Virginia would drone on incessantly about the need to ban coed dorms and
close the Human Sexuality Studies program.  David and Rebecca Fichte,
professors of Latin and Psychology respectively, were right wing
Republicans who only talked politics and who had sent their daughter to a
Catholic school for girls in Switzerland when they found out she had a
boyfriend.  Julie Preston, whose husband Don taught Sociology, was as cute
and friendly as her husband was plain and unsociable, but always refused to
flirt with him; and Father Spinoza was a dull priest who specialized in the
letters of Paul.  The other five or six couples were no more interesting;
all in all a lifeless collection. It occurred to him, however, that none of
them were old, fat, or ugly.

    Shaded by plane trees and bordered by oleander, the gravel side road
that led to the villa crossed a stream which nearly ran dry.  The jasmin
and wild marjoram that grew along its banks were withered, and the
surrounding fields were still brown despite the season, there being a
drought in Greece and most of Europe.  Orchard laborers, working in the
olive grove above them, darkly muscled and sweating, turned to look as they
passed by.  Laura woke and rubbed her eyes and seeing them watch her,
turned away.  The massive stone villa was a green refuge in an increasingly
arid world.  Built into a hillside overlooking the city and sea, it was
roofed with terra-cotta, covered with ivy, and enclosed with the color and
scent of mimosa and hibiscus.  The Contessa greeted each of the guests with
a kiss and a pink cistus flower.

    "Welcome to my home," she said, embracing them.

    Jon was immediately drawn to her and noticed that Laura warmed to her
touch.  Her dark hair reached down to her narrow waist, and her olive skin
was bared by the pastel green toga which hung on her shoulder by a gold
clasp.  Moving with feral grace, her voluptuous body was revealed in parts,
a calf, a thigh, a breast.  He could not begin to guess her age; and when
he looked into her eyes, they were wells of experience, spoke of a wisdom
of the body.

    A dark sweet red wine, which tasted of spring blossoms in fertile
fields, was served as they mingled in the great dining room, a cavernous
hall hung with tapestries.  Within minutes, the crowd was beginning to
drone.  He left Laura with Father Spinoza, with whom she seemed content.  A
collection of stone artifacts was displayed on a large oak table in the
center of the room, and Mitchell found Ron Swift, the one true archeologist
and only interesting person present, examining a figurine of a round, large
breasted woman.

    "Not much to look at, is she?" Mitchell asked.

    "On the contrary, my friend, she is the crystallization of all the wet
dreams of that time, much as the Countess is the crystallization of all of
mine," he replied, "Though for that matter, your wife could probably fit
that description as well "

    "Always after mine, eh?  You know, though she may look hot, she's cold
as ice."

    "Seems to be the order of the day at this party," Swift mused.

    "How's that?" Mitchell asked, inspecting the group.

    "Well, every woman here seems to be quite desirable but low on desire.
They could all use some Eros in their anima."

    Examining each in turn and putting personalities temporarily out of
mind, Mitchell had to agree.  Virginia Krakow's long blonde hair cascaded
down to her ripe ass, and her firm breasts swelled within her dress as if
eager to be released.  Mrs. Fichte was a petite redhead whose tight body
was like a coiled spring of unreleased sexual energy.  Deb Daniels,
Poli. Sci. Prof, true DAR., and total prude, was lean and lithe with dark
hair and full lips.  The men and other couples were all attractive as well.
Spinoza was tall and rugged, Krakow blond and well-muscled, Preston
handsome and athletic.  They all looked like they could give one a good
ass-fucking if they weren't so pathologically homophobic.  Some were cute:
he was surprised to see Judy Putnam, one of the dean's secretaries,
approach him.

    "Nice to see you Judy, and a little surprised," he said.

    "Hi Professor Mitchell.  I'm really glad to see you here," she replied,
greeting him with a pert smile.  Mitchell had always liked her.  She was
twenty-four, painfully shy, always dressed in plain clothes, and was
rumored to be a virgin.  "Yeah, I know.  I was surprised I got invited too,
but certainly couldn't pass it up....so, here I am!  Isn't this place
cool?" She exclaimed, more bubbly than usual (Was it the wine?)

    "Indeed," he replied, "And what do you think of the collection?" He
asked, holding up a life-size stone phallus for inspection.

    "Yes, is the size adequate?" Swift joined in.

    She blushed and stammered, grinning, then was saved by the dinner bell.

    They were seated on the floor at low tables arranged in a semicircle,
reclining on satin cushions.  Some of the women were a bit perturbed,
finding it difficult to "lounge" in evening gowns, but held their tongues.
Dresses were hiked up, tight zippers loosened.

    "It brings me great joy to see you all here tonight," began the
Contessa, "I pray this will be a pleasurable and enlightening evening for
everyone."  There was a general murmur of gratitude and agreement, and she
continued.  "Some of you have had a chance to view the artifacts we
excavated recently on the Acrocorinth, and I look forward to hearing your
opinions over dinner.  The main body of the symposium, however, will be
after dinner in the form of an interactive presentation.  But first, let us
have entertainment!"

    Six scantily clad girls and two boys of various races and in their
teens to early twenties appeared.  Two ebony and two olive-skinned girls
with heavy gold necklaces and bangles began to dance; an oriental girl with
a lapis lazuli choker and bracelets played a wooden flute; and a blond girl
adorned with pearls and shells played a mandolin.  The beautiful mulatto
boys danced, their G-strings bulging with promise and their muscles
flexing.  They stroked the girls and each other seductively as they moved
about the room.  Jon imagined nuzzling their crotches and inhaling their
musky scent.  Dinner was a combination of Greek and Middle-eastern cuisine
and, as was customary, was to be eaten with the hands.  As they feasted on
dolmades, hummus with pita, couscus with spicy lamb, avgolemono soup, beef
with quince, and shish-kabob, Mitchell noted with surprise that no protest
or complaint was raised by the prim and proper.  He watched as Virginia
Krakow licked her fingers, and Rebecca Fichte fed her husband playfully,
then cleaned his mustache with her tongue.  The temperature in the room
seemed to have risen several degrees, and a sensual laughter rose above the
tables like an aroma while more wine was served.

    "Did you find my specimens interesting?" the Contessa inquired of
Mitchell and Swift, who sat to each side of her.

    "Not nearly as interesting as this party," replied Swift.

    "Indeed.  But, yes, I was quite fascinated," added Mitchell, "Where was
your dig?"

    "About 200 meters north of the Temple of Aphrodite site.  I am somewhat
ashamed to admit it, but I had some large pieces moved from the excavation
here, as I feared vandals once they were uncovered.  We found two altar
stones intact."

    "Really?  That's quite extraordinary," said Swift, "When can we see
them?"

    "Soon.  Ah, you have some hummus on your cheek," she said to Swift,
then wiped it off with her finger which she then sucked clean.  The three
spent the next twenty or thirty minutes discussing archeology, but neither
Mitchell nor Swift were able to concentrate much.

    Laura, who had been flirting unabashedly with Phil Daniels, grabbed Jon
by the collar and, pulling him to her, gave him a deep wet kiss.

    By the time they had finished dinner and moved to the "theater," there
was much hugging, touching, and caressing taking place.  The women were
flushed and the men sweated.  The theater was more or less outdoors.  Six
stone pillars with burning torches in sconces supported a wooden lattice
overgrown with bougainvillea, and myrtle bushes with white flowers of
amorous scent grew everywhere.  Beneath the fragrant roof, three rows of
cushioned benches formed a half circle around a stone altar with weathered
carvings.  The top of the altar was covered with a white cloth, and the end
that faced the midpoint of the half-circle was concave, with a golden bowl
resting on the tiled floor at the base of the notch.  On a dais above, a
second stone altar rested covered with a green cloth and with its side
facing the half circle.  Upon it were two lit candles, two small glass
bowls with golden trim, a golden chalice, a phial of perfume, a stack of
seven silver bowls, and an urn of olive oil.  Behind this, a large sycamore
tree grew, and sheer curtains hung from its lower branches.  The musky odor
of incense mixed with the fresh night air and the fragrance of the flowers.
The moon was rising.

    When everyone was seated, Jon and Laura in the front row with her head
resting on his shoulder while she stroked his inner thigh, Sibyl approached
the high altar and bowed before it.  Rising, she turned to face the group
of twenty guests.

    "Sisters and Brothers, humankind has fouled the earth; we have fouled
the earth," she began.  "The Goddess, the source of all that grows, all
that lives and breathes and moves, has been forgotten.  The rain does not
fall, and the sun burns down upon us.  The olive tree withers and our
throats are parched."

    A dark-haired boy and girl entered appearing anxious but resolute, and
knelt at Sibyl's feet. They looked to be about eighteen or nineteen years
old and were also dressed in green robes.

.  "This must not be," she said, then took a glass bowl in each hand, one
of which contained a cloudy white liquid while the other was filled with a
clear fluid.  Jon thought he detected the tangy odor of semen.  "Oh,
Goddess of many names, we make a libation to You."  Holding one bowl high,
she said: "The seed of Man," then holding up the other: "The water of
Woman."  She emptied each into the gold chalice, then supped from it.  As
she turned again to face the crowd, the clasp of her robe was released, it
fell to the floor, and she was naked before them except for her golden
necklaces and the golden chains around her waist and ankles.  Her muscles
rippled and her dark nipples were erect.  She was flushed and her eyelids
fluttered.  "Praise be to the Goddess."

    Though a few people gasped, some taken aback by her beauty, others by
her audacity, no one turned away.  Breaths quickened and the smell of
arousal mingled with the other sweet odors.  Jon caught glimpses of guests
touching and rubbing themselves, and reaching over to fondle the genitals
of others, not necessarily their spouses'.  Sibyl placed her hands on the
heads of the kneeling couple and they immediately relaxed.  She brought the
chalice to their lips and they drank.  They seemed to melt, moaning,
glassy-eyed, and panting.  When they were stripped of their robes and
turned round, the crowd could she her glistening pubic hair and moist inner
thighs, and his hard pulsing penis which strained upward.

    "The Goddess Aphrodite demands to be recognized.  Hectare demands to be
remembered.  Asherah must be appeased.  To Hathor and to Astarte we must
make our appeals."

    The two teens walked hand in hand to the lower altar, and she lay on
her back at the notched end, her moist gaping vagina exposed to the
audience.  She looked with heated anticipation into the eyes of the boy and
at his twitching cock.  He stood between her legs.

    "We entreat you, Goddess, please hear our cry, You who make the grass
grow, the flower blossom, and the tree bring forth fruit."

    The boy entered the supine girl with a single hard thrust and she
groaned in pleasure.  As he began to fuck her with steady strokes, she
writhed and moaned beneath him while his sweat dripped onto her breasts.
Before they could reach release, the priestess held up her hand, and they
stopped abruptly.  They separated and stood, quivering with passion and
sweating.

    "Let us ready ourselves for the sacrifice."

    The boy and girl went to the worshippers and began to undress them.  As
the boy unzipped her dress, Laura pressed herself against him and kissed
him, probing his mouth with her tongue.  The other guests began to disrobe,
some almost ripping off their clothes.  Virginia Krakow, normally too
modest even to make love with the lights on, was now frantically stripping
herself naked before a crowd of near strangers.  Jon noted that the men
were all hard and the women were flushed with desire as clothing was tossed
aside or left heaped on the floor.  A teenage girl, blond and beautiful and
cloaked in a white robe, was led in by the dancers, now nude except for
their jewelry, who firmly gripped her arms.  Jon started when he realized
he knew her: she was Justine Williams, a sweet high school exchange student
from Missouri who had audited one of his courses.  She looked afraid, too
afraid to speak, as she was led to the green altar.  The dancers pushed her
down by the shoulders in front of the Priestess, and held her down.  Sibyl
raised the chalice in her hands.

    "Great Mother, source of love and life, hear us as we consecrate this
virgin unto you." Then to the girl: "Drink child of the elixir of life."

    She brought the chalice to Justine's lips, and when the girl hesitated
to drink, the dancers pushed her head forward, indicating to her that she
had no choice.  She wrinkled her nose as she swallowed the pungent fluid,
but didn't gag.  As she stood, apprehension still showed on her face, but
her body had relaxed, softened and warmed.  The girls removed her robe
revealing her supple body, youthful and golden, her small pert breasts
pointing upward, and her chest heaving slightly.  Her wrists were bound
together by soft leather bands.  She was led to the lower altar, and her
hands were secured at one end while her feet were tied to the notched end.
Her knees were bent, her legs spread, and her buttocks slid down to the
notch displaying her virginal cunt to the crowd.  Its lips were swollen.
Sibyl carried the phial and urn to her side, then poured a thin line of oil
down her body which the dancers immediately began to rub into her skin,
massaging her breasts, arms and thighs, and pausing at her mound of Venus.
Drops of perfume were dabbed on her forehead, between her breasts, and at
her navel and pubis.  Jon felt intoxicated as he inhaled the aroma.  She
was becoming aroused and moaned softly.

     The teen couple came forward, and the girl climbed on the altar on her
hands and knees with her pussy inches from Justine's face.  The boy entered
her from behind with his still erect cock and began to pump into her.
Justine could she their joining organs and smell their sex, their fluids
dripped down on to her lips.  As he came, screaming, he withdrew and
spurted his heavy load of cum on to her face and in her hair.  She writhed
beneath them reaching out with her tongue to collect as much of his
emission as possible.  The girl reached down and scooped it up with her
fingers and fed it to her eager mouth.

    A large black man cloaked in red entered and stood at her feet.  The
guests looked on, excited but horrified at the thought of what might be
about to happen.  They were relieved to see that, when he dropped his
cloak, he did not hold a knife.  Instead, his spear of flesh, at least nine
inches in length, bobbed before his muscular form, its veins pulsing and
precum dripping from its end.  This was to be a different kind of blood
sacrifice.

    "Oh, Goddess from whom the juice of procreation flows, seed of man and
water of woman, accept this sacrifice and hear our prayers."

    "Please," Justine whispered as she gazed up with hunger and fear at the
black's large organ.  Jon couldn't tell if she was pleading for release
from her bonds or from her desire.  The black placed his cock at her
opening and slowly eased into the tight orifice.  She cried out in pain and
pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut.  He withdrew till only the head remained
within her, then plunged again till he filled her to the hilt.  As he began
to fuck her with a slow rhythm, he reached up to fondle her oiled breasts,
pinching her nipples as she trembled beneath him.  "Please. . . Fuck me,"
she moaned.  His tempo increased till he was pounding wildly into her, his
massive balls slapping against her ass.  He groaned as he reached orgasm,
and she let out an animal cry, guttural and savage, as she shook
uncontrollably.  Jon could see tears in her eyes and wondered if they were
tears of joy, pain, shame, or all three.  The ebony cock was coated with
their juices and with a thin film of blood as he pulled it from her.  A few
drops of the crimson liquid oozed from her open cunt.  Justine lost
consciousness.

    Sibyl came down from the dais to kneel between Justine's legs, then
slowly and with great relish, licked up the products of the initiation.
When she was clean, she stepped back and, with hand extended in invitation,
said, "Come, share in the ritual of sacrifice to the Goddess.  The Goddess
be praised."

    A collective sigh rose from the worshipers, and their breathing was
rhythmic, almost synchronous, like a single organism in heat.  The boys and
girls approached them and, getting on their knees, began to suck the men's
cocks, which were already beginning to pulse with desire, and flicking
their tongues over the women's clits.  One of the boys bobbed his head on
Jon's prick till he groaned with longing.  Jon lifted him up and kissed
him, probing his mouth with his hungry tongue, their throbbing penises
rubbing together, then reached down to gather some of the precum from the
boy's cock and tasted it.  Some of the women were frigging themselves with
their fingers, eyes glazed with lust.

    One by one, woman alternating with man, the twenty walked up and knelt
between Justine's spread legs.  On Sibyl's bidding, both kissed and licked
the overflowing cunt, then the men thrust into her with their throbbing
organs till they filled her with their cum.  With each new fucking, semen
was squeezed out of her and, that which was not consumed by the
participants, dribbled down into the golden bowl.  Proper men and women,
many of whom had never even tasted a penis or pussy before, were now
lapping up the bodily fluids of a crowd with gusto.  Justine woke, moaning
and crying for more, when the first man entered her.  When all the men had
spent themselves within her violated sex, Sibyl lifted the golden bowl
above Justine's head and said "Drink."  She opened her mouth wide to
receive the excess semen, licking her lips as she swallowed.  Some was
dripped onto her body which the dancers rubbed in with their deft hands.

    The women were panting and sweating by now, unable to achieve release
despite their desperate efforts, and the dancers took them by the hands and
led each to a pillar.  Two each were chained to the iron sconces of the
corner columns and one each to the center columns.  The chains were long
enough to allow them to kneel or squat, but prevented them from laying
down.  A silver bowl was placed at the base of each pillar, the seventh
before the upper altar.  The dignified lady professors and stuffy wives now
were frantic, squirming and pulling on their chains and begging the men to
take them.  Jon saw Laura in the corner, growling like a beast and crying
out, "Please fuck me, fuck me now!"  About fifteen orchard workers entered,
sweaty and dirty from a day's work, and throwing drachmas in bowls, began
to undress.  The husbands joined them as they began to penetrate the women
in all their orifices, humping their mouths, cunts, and asses.  The women
grunted and groaned with pleasure, shook with orgasm, their juices flowed
down their legs as semen sprayed onto their bodies and into their hungry
mouths.

    Jon watched, transfixed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the orgy,
as Judy was laid upon the notched altar.  He was the first to stand between
her legs which opened wide to receive him, her pubic hair glistening with
her cum.  "Please," she pleaded, "Please give me your cock."  As he drove
into her, his rod still slick with Justine's juices, he saw Laura in the
corner as she rode the black's huge cock in a frenzy while sucking on
Spinoza's hard member.  In another corner, looking delirious, Virginia
Krakow serviced three dark Greek men, one each in her mouth, ass, and
pussy, her blond hair matted with sperm and her large breasts bouncing with
each thrust, while her husband, a notorious homophobe, fucked one of the
boys up the ass as the boy rimmed the oriental dancer.  Jon began to pump
into Judy's tight tunnel as she screamed and wriggled.  His rhythm was
constant, in synch with the stroking of all the other men, their heaving
breaths and panting were in time, moving in and out as one as the theater
became hazy.  After he filled her with his seed, another man stepped up,
David Fichte, tossed money into the bowl, then thrust his cock deep within
her.  She whimpered, overwhelmed with pleasure and passion.

    Jon fell back onto the cushions and looked up to see Sibyl standing
like a queen before the green altar, surveying the work of her magick.  She
was pleased.  A Greek field hand, wiry with taunt muscles and smelling of
sweat, lay down beside him and took his shrinking cock in his mouth.  To
his surprise, Jon responded quickly, his member soon pointing straight up
from his supine body and slick with the Greek's saliva.  The Greek slid his
firm buttocks over the cock, then sat on it, driving it into his ass.  As
he bounced on the pulsating rod, one of the mulatto boys knelt beside Jon
and stuck his prick in his mouth.  Jon savored the taste and smell of the
boy's groin as he pumped his cock deep into his throat.  He withdrew it
abruptly, and the orchard worker rolled over, remaining joined with Jon,
then pulling up his legs up to ride on Jon's shoulders.  As Jon started to
slam hard into the Greek's ass, the boy slipped behind him, then after
loosening the professor's asshole up with his fingers, plunged his youthful
seven inches into him.  Jon groaned as the boy impaled him, and the worker
began to scream as his balls tightened and released his load.  The cum
spurted several feet, spraying on to Jon's face and into his gasping mouth.
The boy cried out as he neared orgasm.  He pulled out suddenly then came
round to grab Jon's head.  He came almost at once, filling Jon's mouth with
hot semen which leaked out the sides.  Jon licked his lips as the pair
stepped away from him, panting, leaving him unsatisfied.

    Sibyl smiled down upon him, a peaceful expression upon her face, which
was framed by her shining flowing hair.  He gathered all of his money and
valuables from his clothing and crept over to kneel before the upper altar.
He placed everything in the bowl at Sibyl's feet, his cash, his watch, and
. . .his wedding ring.  She beamed down at him, welcoming him.

    "You understand fully, just as I knew you would."

    She lifted him up with her soft hand and led him behind the sheer
curtain to her bed at the base of the sycamore tree.  Laying him gently
down, she caressed him, took him in her mouth and suckled him till his
desire grew.  Warmth spread through his body, and his vision blurred.  The
fresh air and all the scents of the night, that night, the eve of Mayday,
flowed through him like a life-giving stream.  As she mounted him, he felt
like the whole earth was embracing and enveloping him.  And, as she began
to ride him, it pulsed, all nature pulsed in rhythm with her strokes, with
the throbbing of his penis, with the breaths, cries, and strokes of the
other revelers.  The rhythm was echoed by the voices of the frogs and
crickets in the forest.  They became the ebb and flow of the tides and the
cycles of the moon, all in unison with the movement of the earth, When he
came, shuddering, the world exploded in color as new life burst forth,
waves of green covered bare soil, snow and ice melted in his passion.  His
orgasm was an eternity.  Then, sweet sleep covered his spent body like a
soft mantle.

    They all woke the next morning naked on a green hillside field.  Just
down the slope, Justine and Judy danced, the sunlight reaching between the
clouds to paint their dew-drenched bodies gold.  Some of the women tried to
cover themselves, but most didn't seem to care.  No one spoke.  Suddenly,
it began to rain.  It rained in heavy sheets of water as if heaven had
opened up its gates.  It rained, soaking them and washing them clean.  It
rained, and the odor of fresh fertile earth filled the air.  They ran down
the wet hill laughing with joy.

    As they collected their clothes, they were told by the solitary maid at
the villa that the Contessa had left on an excursion into the mountains and
was not expected back for sometime.  Laura was quiet as they drove back to
Athens, and Jon wondered what she was thinking, was unsure as to what he
himself thought.  She stroked his inner thigh and kissed him on the cheek
as Corinth disappeared behind them.