The heavy chimes of the grandfather clock announce the witching hour. Soft velvet covers hard wood. The table is set for a special initiation. A new girl joins the circle tonight, and her dues are paid in pleasure.
Soft flesh and wet tongue gently coax erotic sensation out of the initiate, guiding her toward orgasm at a wickedly slow pace. Her back arches off the table, nipples peaking against delicate lace. Soon, the ritual will be complete.
The leader watches intently, aroused by the sensuous feast, but disciplined against the need swirling within her body. She cannot give in to her own arousal yet. Her intent to see the initiate’s aura bloom at the moment of orgasm is far too important.
To witness the beauty of the soul at the peak of ecstasy, one looks not just with the eyes, but with the heart. A pure expression of beauty not just seen, but felt. Behold divinity.