Mark Townsend
The orgiastic cult
CHAPTER ONE
A beautiful, red-haired young woman lay naked on the carpeted floor of a strange room located in the poorer business district of downtown Los Angeles. The room itself was square; the walls and ceiling were draped with dark blue velvet; one wall was completely covered with a mirror of smoky glass. A light mist of incense made the room hazy, almost surrealistic. The only light came from seven candles which stood on a low, altar-like platform also covered with velvet, that was placed near the wall directly opposite the mirror. The dancing flames made flickering shadows play on the skin of the girl, emphasizing each ripe curve of her voluptuous body.
She lay in what appeared to be a trance-like state; her eyes were closed and the only movement came from the rhythmic heaving of her creamy young breasts that rose and fell regularly while the candle flames made pink and rosy patterns on her skin. Periodically she would twist her slender body as if in the throes of an erotic dream; her long tapering legs would thrash and writhe, exposing the glistening "vee" of her pubic hair that seemed to twitch with a pulsing life of its own.
A figure appeared from behind the drapes, a young man who was also completely naked.
"Hail Vallus!" he cried as he entered the room.
He was a slim, young man about twenty-one. He was six feet tall, with a wiry, muscular build. His skin was dark, giving him a gypsyish appearance. His black curling hair framed an exceptionally handsome, sensual face. Yet, despite his good looks, there was something evil about him, an aura of degeneracy. His thick, full lips seemed to be twisted in a cruel sneer, and his dark, heavily lashed eyes seemed to hold images of evil and perversity in them. He wore a silver earring in his left ear, and suspended from the earring was a talisman that took the shape of a long, dagger-like object, topped by two round rings, like half of a four leaf clover. It swung from his ear as he moved, and enhanced the strange air that surrounded his appearance.
He moved towards the flame-haired girl on the floor and stood before her. As he did, gazing down at the gleaming, luscious body, his penis, unusually long and thick, began to throb and rise. His large, pendulous balls, swaying below his pulsing organ, began to swell with life. He raised his arms upwards, in a sort of ritual gesture.
"Hail Vallus!" he cried. "God of the night! Protector of the creatures of Darkness! I am your slave! Hear me! Your slave Raoul surrenders himself to your commands!"
He gazed down at the girl's face, set off by the vivid redness of her hair. Her wet, gleaming lips were half open, an invitation to be kissed, or for a tonguing. Her nose curved slightly downwards, giving her an exotic, almost Arabian look. Her eyes, heavily made up, were like those of a cat; even closed, they seemed to radiate desire. The young man, Raoul, dropped to his knees and his face moved downward towards the exposed area of her pussy. As he moved closer he could smell the pungent, musky female odor that rose from her glistening, furry patch. He flicked out his long, pointed tongue and explored the warm, curling hair that surrounded her fleshy slit. The soft tendrils felt good on his oral member, and he moved in closer, while his hands roved lewdly up and down her long, curvaceous body.
His face moved downwards, and his tongue glided along the fleshy lane, running wetly along each ridge and fold of her cuntal lips.
Still in a deep trance, the girl did not open her eyes during all of this. But her body began to respond as the gypsy's hands moved over every soft, silky curve of her body. She began to undulate slowly, spreading her legs wide to give Raoul easier entry. Her tongue moved out around her lips, wetting them, exploring them in response to the tonguing she was being given down there between her quivering legs.