Hypnotic Ceremony
Sitting on the biggest lilypad in the center of the pond, they partook of the 'Maria Jane' and 'Damiana' teas and cakes.
He looked into her eyes,... big, round and hazy, and could tell. She was stoned.
So she'd be perfectly malleable to hypnotize.
She sat there yogi style, trying to go into a deep trance state. A seance, — where she'll let the spirits speak through her...
Meanwhile, he was helping her along, — by hypnotizing her.
They say you can't really hypnotize a person, if they don't somehow want it. But a person who deeply wants it, makes a very good subject.
~
Tomek took the necklace off his neck, — the one that held the pointed crystal from the Fatherland on it. It was almost phallic shaped, like a man’s ‘tool’. He held it up before her face, before her eyes, and dangled it there. Back and forth, back and forth, he slowly, slowly swung the crystal before her crystallizing eyes.
"Look into the chain, disappear into it. That’s it... That’s it..."
He spoke, in a calm, monotone, but commanding, male, hypnotic voice.....
''Go down, — deep, deep, deep down within yourself. Find your inner self.....
''Deep, deep, down within, you are a flower. That is your essence. That is what you really are. Feel it. Feel the flower in you. Feel the bud. Feel the beginning.......
''Feel the heat of the sun above. Feel the Sun-God's shafts of light hit upon you, repeatedly. Warm to it. Respond to it. Lie back. Relax. Open up to it. Let yourself bloom. Let yourself flower. Come, come into all your glory. You are the prize-flower of the jungle. The prize flower of life.
"Move, move your petals... Bloom for the Sun-God...."
In low voice, methodically, he kept repeating this.
A Botanist's Dream
The heavy hypnotic words, and her meditative trance, and the effect of the Goddess Herbe roiling around in her brain, made her head feel very, very heavy. Suddenly she sort of collapsed backward, falling back onto the lilypad, her head and her visions swirling around.
Her long, long hair floated in the water all around the lilypad. Her knees were bent up, but when she shifted, stretched or ‘yawned’ in the sun, then her layers of skirts and colorful underslips would shift and dance around her legs, like the petals of some grand lotus flower.
When you're high as a kite, a woman can see herself as some kind of big, beautiful flower.
Her legs began to rise, like in some mythic, celestial play. Slowly drifting, swaying back and forth.
Tomek had stepped back, to the edge of the pond, watching the show, — as she lifts and twirls her legs in the air. He pulled out his bongo drums and beat a little rhythm, as her legs dance above her.
Her long, multi-tiered, multicolored skirt clung to her legs for a bit, but then begin to slip down as her legs swayed and moved above her. She really did look like a flower, the lotus of the swamps, with all her tiers of colored skirts like petals opening and blooming around her. Her amber, swaying legs rising out of this were like the stamen of her flower, while her golden socks looked like the anther.
Tomek knew that way, way down inside all that flourish of skirt petals, was her flower’s ovary. And yes, flowers have an ovary. Ask a botanist. (To think that only humans have an ovary might just be racist. Naughty, naughty!) The female architecture and a flower are more alike than we realize.
Flowers make a man want to fuck. No wonder all the pretty girls wear flowers in their hair.
~
This was getting to Tomek. Frankly, watching a woman unfurl like a flower will bring out the man in a man. Which is what happened, his manhood began to pop up like a mushroom, popping open his pants buttons. Like the beak of some bird, that had just noticed this beautiful flower.
So of course he begins stroking it, as he watches her unfold.
A floral woman spread before ye, is the most beautiful thing in the universe. Even the cosmic birthing bursts of galaxies cannot match this.
The Sun-God high in the sky beamed its light upon her amber legs, and warmed them..... warmed them into opening, bit by bit, so that its shafts could reach down in between, and warm the inner parts of a girl, that had never seen the sun before. Causing her to flower, to open her petals, and bloom yet a little more for him......
~
In the back of her dream mind, Venecia seemed to hear Tomek's murmuring voice. It kept replaying there, merging with the sun's warm rays on her. It seemed that Tomek was the Sun-God. “Oh my sweet, sweet flower..... I want you to bloom for me...” Oh, if the Sun-God wanted her to bloom for him, then she will, she will!
She began to murmur and coo, to toss and moan, as she went along her spirit journey. She's in a sleep-like state, a dream coma, tossing and turning. As she rolled and tossed, her legs opened, closed, shuffled, and rearranged themselves in the vernations of her skirts and slips. Each move revealing new vistas, a kaleidoscope of moving patterns. Now and then her leg petals opening enough to show her dark, shadowy center, then closing again.
Sometimes, Tomek saw straight up inside her Lotus flower, straight into her shadow world. Under long, voluminous skirts. Her amber, converging legs pulling his eyesight in, like a funnel, to her vortex. To her dark flower heart. Where, without panties, she was all black mystery, fuming, the heart of being. Like the black whorl brushstroke at the center of a pansy. He strains hard into the shadows, trying to make it out. Imagining.
Venecia felt the heat of the shaft of light from the sunbeam, as it penetrated its way into her pores. The flower in her was opening to it. She raised her legs heavenward, and began kicking them in flurry of excitement from the shafting of the Sun-God’s light into the center of her being.