Nights of the Teorsas

Conclusion

The shock to Tacey must have been immense, shock and awe at walking into such a beautiful stone vaulted place and seeing the knights and raphes, perhaps a hundred in all, standing in their red robes watching her, their eyes focused just upon her; and, at their centre, the figure of the Bacalum looking so serene and wonderful in his great curving red penile hat. Jonathan could not but sense what she was feeling as he led her down the massed rows of the knights. Certainly her eyes were wide.

A low chanting filled the hall as Jonathan led Tacey forward to the centre of the hall. Speaking in a clear voice he outlined to the assembly Tacey's grave misdemeanour. It was certain, very certain they were not pleased and Jonathan felt for Tacey as she must now realise how great was her error, how unwise and wrong it was to speak lightly of the teors and in a flippant manner. It was possible she thought herself there for punishment but that was not often the way of the Order. Perhaps once upon a time Tacey would have been bound tightly and her bottom roundly punished as the Knights watched; the sight of a helpless, naked, bound girl wriggling under torment greatly assisting their meditation.

That was not the modern way. The Bacalum placed great store, not on punishment, but in behavioural correction. He saw the female mind as plastic and easily mouldable. A woman's mind could change swiftly and, he reasoned, could therefore be changed easily. He believed strongly, much more so than his predecessors, in the use of the Mesmodildo for mind correction. It so eased compliance with change.

Tacey had heard the accusation, must understand the gravity of her disrespect. Jonathan knew it was time and was gratified his thoughts were so in tune with the Bacalum for, at that very moment he knew it was time, the Bacalum raised his staff, a rod of iron surmounted by the bulbous end of a teors worked in silver filigree, and pronounced, "Do."

As one the knights, with both hands, pulled apart their robes disclosing to the single woman their rampant male nakedness beneath: it was the ancient and ritualistic Teorsic Flash. The sight of so many erect organs could have but one effect on Tacey, instinctively, as of a folk memory, she made a low curtsy, the obeisance, to the Teors. Awed, she saw each erect organ was bound in one, two or even three gold rings tightly held by the flesh that had expanded into them. They held their robes apart exposing their tumescent maleness to her, just to her; Jonathan could barely credit the honour being done to Tacey; to have revealed to her, to actually see, one hundred teors at a single time; moreover so beautifully bound in gold and framed by the red robes of the Order. It was breathtaking. She was honoured but awed. Never again, he knew, could she be disrespectful of the teors—not after such an experience under the influence of the Mesmodildo.

There was a hush, the chanting ceased, and from his robes Jonathan drew out the wonderful golden Mesmodildo. This time, in the great hall of the Knights of the Teors he fully unsheathed it and it shone in the candlelight, its great pearl drawing all eyes to it, perhaps most of all those eyes already weeping the Second Wonder. Jonathan held it aloft and let his robe slip from him. Completely naked, apart from the leather band around his teors, the three gold rings tightly encircling his shaft and the silver ring around the small toe of his left foot (for reasons lost in the mists of time), he advanced upon Tacey. Her eyes widened and her mouth took on the shape of the Teorsic Circle. A proper expression of respect.

But it was not between her lips that the Mesmodildo was destined. She had seen and sucked upon the artefact already but now, to complete the ritual, the great pearl must penetrate between her legs and rise up to touch the very entrance to her womb. The Specto, Combibo and Penetralis must be completed.

The idea that Jonathan should kneel before Tacey and make the insertion was clearly misconceived. It would not do for a Knight of the Teors to kneel before a woman however important the ritualistic purpose. It was unthinkable. She would have to be raised. Such a lifting would have the benefit of making the act visible to all the knights; and clearly they would all wish to see the Penetralis. It was a problem long ago faced by the Order and brilliantly solved by Meatus XI, Bacalum 1895-1906, by the use of a ladder.

In reality the method was somewhat more complicated than a simple ladder; in essence it was a pair of step ladders placed side by side but on castors. The girl, slipping her garment from her shoulders to the floor, ascended the steps, one foot to each set of steps until she reached the summit; when she was there, one foot set on top of each of the set of steps, the pair were moved apart, gradually widening the gap and causing the girl's legs to open and splay, allowing the Dildick, or dildo wielder, easy access. The system had since been refined. Initially there were unfortunate and undignified situations where the steps kept moving apart due to the free running castors and the girl did 'the splits' to an excessive degree and fell to the confusion of the knights below. The developed version ran on rails with stops and the splay could be precisely set so the girl was spread according to her height. To steady her and to ensure she did not tumble she was provided, one to each set of steps, a staff to hold onto; the end result rather like a pair of library steps mounted on rails. Properly set the naked girl would appear above the assembled knights spread-eagled with legs well apart and arms akimbo as her hands grasped the finely carved teors at the ends of the two poles.

In the Teorsic Trance, Tacey disrobed and ascended the steps; the knights leaning forward out of interest to see her the better; at the top she grasped the two upright teors surmounting the poles and two raphes carefully moved the steps aside opening her legs until fully spread; Jonathan moved forward and looked upwards. Above him, open and vulnerable was Tacey's sex, visible not only to him but to the other knights as well. There was a pause for meditation and then Jonathon raised the Mesmodildo higher and higher until the great pearl touched Tacey. The effect was electric. As Jonathan continued to push the great gold teors into Tacey, her body shook as if charged with an electric current whilst the strongest orgasm she had ever experienced shook her body. In her befuddled mind, as the waves of pleasure hit her, all she could focus on were the hundred of gold banded teors. Her desire for them was strong.

Beneath her Jonathan rotated the Mesmodildo three times, as required by the ritual, and withdrew holding it high for all to see. The chanting returned, filling the hall.

Still experiencing orgasmic aftershocks, Tacey's eyes focused on the Mesmodildo as she descended the steps. Clearly totally captivated by the sight of the golden teors and its pearl, Jonathan could turn Tacey's head to the left or right simply by moving the object. He lowered it to his own teors and Tacey followed it down to kneel in front of him. Rotating the Mesmodildo from the vertical to the horizontal he slipped the great rounded head with its pearl into Tacey's mouth. Within her mouth, he knew, would be the rapid flicking tongue, caressing the smoothness of the pearl imagining it a continuous spurt of male milk to assuage a desperate thirst.

Jonathan removed the Mesmodildo and, the ritual complete, turned, reluctantly, to pass it to a waiting knight. As the wonderful object was handed one to the other to be wrapped in its cloth their teors touched with just the faintest metallic sound of gold on gold; again a symbolic act.

The Mesmodildo now sheathed, Jonathan knew Tacey would focus on his own teors. He smiled as her tongue flicked around her mouth. She would be desperate now, desperate for the male milk. He spoke and the chamber was hushed.

"Repeat after me," and he spoke the ancient words translated from the Latin so Tacey would understand and obey.

Below him Tacey listened in rapt attention her eyes focused on Jonathan's gold banded teors just inches from her face. She thought she had rarely seen anything so beautiful or desirable with its smooth plum head, sinuous veins and beautiful gold bands—bands that she could see were intricately engraved with intertwined teors.

In a quiet voice, not loud as Jonathan's had been, but gentle and modest as a woman's voice should be she repeated:

"Man is my master;

The Teors is strong;

I sink to my knees before the Teors;

I shall drink from the Teors:

Man is my master"

The whole chamber was silent, hushed and now waiting for Jonathan. He applied all his years of training and meditation. He so wanted to do the thing; the act that marked a great knight—the spontaneous third wonder of the teors. All eyes were upon him not least Tacey's as she gazed at his teors; Jonathan moved it closer almost as if he was going to place it in her mouth and let her suck. But that was not his intention. His concentration was intense; beads of sweat appeared on his brow and from his straining teors came the second wonder, a little bubbling pearl of Teorsic Fluid. The Bacalum saw it and nodded; from the knights came a low hum; Tacey's eyes grew round as she saw the liquid pearl and she wet her lips. She had not, though, received permission to touch or lick however much her desperate desire was to taste and accept the teors into her mouth. Jonathan stared at Tacey's moving tongue, practising all the meditative technique he could muster; so not wanting to disappoint his companions and disgrace himself, a full member of the Corona; so conscious of the rising sound of the humming knights. And then it came.

Without touching, without his own hand or Tacey's lips so much as brushing it, the Third Wonder came. With a groan Jonathan's teors began to spout in full view of the company, spurt after creamy spurt crossing the air to land perfectly in Tacey's waiting mouth. The low hum of the knights reached a crescendo and ceased.

Tacey was clearly in ecstasy. Finally she had been permitted to drink the Teorsic Fluid; an ambrosia; she had never realised could be so...; had never thought... had never dreamt could be so wonderful.

It was obvious to the company that Tacey's orgasm had returned.

The knights still wonderfully erect and gold banded began to process in their robes held open to display their manhood. An impressive sight as they circled the great hall. A group of seven knights advanced upon the kneeling Tacey and stood in a semi circle before her, folding their arms across their chests, their teors standing proud. Again Tacey was awed as first one then another teors began to stream semen without any manual or oral intervention. Her mouth sought the delicious fluid, her head turning first one way and then another. Two knights accepted defeat and allowed Tacey the honour of assisting the discharge of the Teorsic Fluid, her lips eagerly seeking, her mouth sucking, her tongue assisting as the hot ambrosia slid down her throat and her clitoris tingled like it had never done before.

Group after group of knights advanced upon her as the ritual of the Discharge of the Teorsic Fluid continued. Despite her best efforts much of the delicious fluid had not reached her mouth. It dripped from her hair, her chin, her ears, her breasts and covered her body. Her skin tingled like she had never imagined it could and her orgasm went on and on as her senses were overwhelmed.

Through the waves of ecstasy, all Tacey could hear around her was the tinkling sound of tens of gold rings falling and bouncing on the marbled floor as in her mind over and over again she kept repeating:

"Man is my master;

The Teors is strong;

I sink to my knees before the Teors;

I shall drink from the Teors:

Man is my master"

Jonathan stood; still the only naked person present other than Tacey, watching the ritual, marvelling at the power of the Teors so graphically wielded by the knights, delighting in the ejaculations and the sensual image of Tacey writhing on her knees under the onslaught. It was an image he would recall later for meditation. He was impressed by Tacey's stamina for, despite the sustaining beverage she was consuming, her continuous orgasm would be sapping her strength. Soon he knew she must faint—again a right and proper thing in a female—a swoon.

Still just conscious Tacey keeled over to lie in a pool of teorsic fluid, her eyes blinking and mouth moving. Jonathan was appalled. She should have swooned properly and completely. She should have been still and unconscious. He quickly signalled and, lifted by six raphes, she was brought to the Bacalum. He would know what was required.

The Bacalum's wise old face looked at the prostrate but still conscious girl and a frown came over his ancient features and then he nodded at Jonathan:

"Do."

Jonathan attended him, gently lifting the hat from the end of the Bacalum's teors. It was a magnificent specimen. No other Knight approached it in size—though a couple of raphe were almost equally endowed and great things were expected of them by the Corona.

Once more Tacey's thighs were separated and her sex exposed. The Bacalum stood ready and Jonathan took the Bacalum's teors in his hand, marvelling at its girth, strength and length. He held it ready as the two raphes brought Tacey's sex closer and closer to the great, now hatless, purple head. Tacey's eyes widened as she saw what was to happen. Her eyes wide at the sight of the great gold banded teors but there was nothing she could do to prevent her approach. The great purple head touched, squashed a little and then impaled Tacey. It was not an easy task; such was the girth of the great fleshly member. Tacey had never felt so stretched and with it came a crashing final orgasm like a firework display and she passed from consciousness—quite swooned away as she should.

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully at Tacey's unconscious body. Once more the great wisdom of the Bacalum had been revealed.

In awe, Jonathan turned his head to the Bacalum and bowed. The Bacalum nodded gravely and stepped backwards releasing his teors from the confines of Tacey's sex so that it bounced upwards and stood impressively vibrating like a tuning fork. Carefully Jonathan replaced the hat upon its end to conclude the ritual. Probably as a result of Tacey's slipperiness the hat slid slightly to one side at a rather jaunty angle as if it was pleased with what it had done.

The Bacalum gazed down at the unconscious girl, and his gaze seemed to rest particularly on her shaved pubis. Jonathan had thought all was done but he was wrong; quite wrong. With a small smile the Bacalum raised his arms and with it released the pent up strength of his own meditation. From the great gold banded teors a magnificent ejaculation took flight drawing a gasp of wonder from the assembled company. The little jaunty bejewelled hat flew right over Tacey and beyond her head to clatter on the marble floor as the Bacalum's own Teosic Fluid poured in great, strong, creamy spurts the whole length of her body. It was a sight for the knights to remember and feel humble.

The ritual was concluded and it was time for Jonathan to take Tacey from the Phallocrypt and return her to the world above, the restless city, a better, wiser, more respectful person. One who would never again mock the teors, one who would be careful to be modest and quiet in the presence of men and a woman possessing, as women should, a secret lust for the Teosic Fluid.

Jonathan always felt a great sense of regret when he left the Great Phallocrypt. It was where he felt greatest contentment—a sense of worth and belonging. He looked at the slowly regaining consciousness of Tacey as he prepared her for the return to the world above and sighed. Despite his pleasure, indeed his joy in the Order he would really love to have a girlfriend, a really nice girl, perhaps someone like Tacey. It was a sadness to him that he had never had a girlfriend, even as a teenager; had never had a loving relationship with a girl. He could not understand why.

It was news, unwelcome news, news of the most distressing kind. After decades of silence, it now seemed the ancient opponents of the Order were not disbanded, not consigned to history but were once more on the ascendant; the Yin to the Order's Yang, the Seth to its Jedi: the most detested Dames of the Drenched Digit.

The Bacalum looked slowly up and along the walls of his office, at the many, many paintings of his predecessors; all of them seemed to be silently sharing his thoughts; even Henri de Coq who, it was said, came across with the Conqueror, bore a frown on his cropped Norman head. "It will not do," said the Bacalum.