Continued from previous chapter
"The body has many mystic zones, Pamela," the Swami explained as he let go of her nipples, which were now standing up rather stiff and tall. The normal man, the less than spiritual man, might be tempted to suck on them. They were certainly very inviting. But, the Swami was able to resist this superficial bodily temptation. Instead, he shifted his hands to cup each one of Pamela's bulbous boobs in the palms of his hands. They were far from a handful and, as he lifted up each one he was duly impressed by their weight. "And, what is in your mind now, Pamela, what are you mindful of now?"
Pamela almost opened her eyes, but this time she was able to exert better self-control, despite the surprise at feeling the hands of the Master cupping each of her naked breasts. She was aware of her heart racing a bit, but more aware of simply the Swami's hands holding her bosoms. "Well, golly, um, Master, it's your hands, holding my, my, ...."
"Yes, child, you must trust me. I am your guiding spirit. I have no desire, no interest, in the body. I am only demonstrating to you the power of mindfulness, of spiritual awareness. With but one small gesture on my part, simply through my modest hands your mind is now elsewhere, but yet again focused." He began to squeeze, fondle, and explore those lusciously large soft globular milk pillows. It was truly a lot to explore, a lot of flesh to cover, and he devoted himself religiously to the task.
"Is your mind now focused, child? Have you not forgotten your past, your future, is it not focused now on the present moment, this place and time of your being-in-the-world?"
"Oh yes, Swami, it is," Pamela gasped. He was again very, very correct. He did appear to be a very wise and learned man. All that Pamela was noticing now was the feel of his hands exploring her breasts, squeezing here, fondling there, occasionally returning to her original mystic zone, her nipples, to give them a nurturing squeeze, flicker, or pinch.
Many a man had explored her breasts before, and many more than them had wanted to. But, never before had the fondling, caressing, and feeling, if not grabbing, fumbling, groping, or grappling, been so spiritual, so deeply existential. She could feel the realization of her self, her transcendence, developing and growing within her, and it in fact really felt quite nice, quite wonderful, quite exciting. "Oh Swami," she exclaimed, "I think I'm beginning to transcend."
"Yes, yes, child, I can see, I can feel you are." The Swami had transcended as well, for now his cock was stiff as a steel rod, poking up and out from him like a cobra mesmerized by a snake charmer, but this cobra was rising not because of a hypnotizing Hindu melody, but by the entrancing jugs of Pamela Zinszer. Exploring breasts like Pamela's will have that effect. The Swami was a spiritual leader, but he was also a healthy male. He got up from his knees and stood before her, his erect dick only a few inches from her eyes.
"Child, here, let me show you. Open your eyes and you shall see more, you shall grow further."
Pamela wondered what it was she was about to see. She felt she had seen so much with them closed. And, she was quite terribly shocked when she opened them. "Oh my gracious goodness, Mr. Swami!" The Swami had apparently grown quite a bit himself. "Your penis! It's all stiff and hard!"
The Swami though just giggled at the girl's youth, her inexperience, her child-like naivete. "Yes, Pamela, it is, yes, indeed! Notice I have erected my penis simply through the power of my will, my spirit."
"Oh my, you sure have!"
"Yes, yes, a Swami must train his body to do many things, to respond on command irrespective of where he is, in what context, on what plane he currently exists. This all comes with transcendence, with enlightenment."
Pamela's eyes were transfixed at the sight, which was frankly very difficult to ignore, as the red swollen bulb seemed to be aiming right for her eyes, like the cobra was now ready to spit, and what it would spray would hit her right on her face and into her eyes, just like a real cobra. She instinctively regressed to the bodily world and once again covered her breasts and pussy with her hands, as best she could. The covering of her breasts was though so terribly feeble and ineffective. There was just so much territory to hide. The effort only made her look more provocative, more enticing, as the hands only made it even clearer that what she was ineffectively hiding was quite inappropriately provocative and revealing.
The Swami giggled again. "No, no, child, do not be deceived, do not be ignorant. I have done this without any material desire whatsoever. It is only how I have now, through my transcendent karma, have transformed my bodily state into another form, another mystic plane."
Pamela wondered if perhaps she might ask him to transform it back into its flaccid mystic state, but she really couldn't question a Swami regarding such matters, and certainly not during her very first lesson. But, goodness, it was rather disconcerting. "Well, golly, I don't know. Are you sure about all this?"
"Yes, yes," he responded, smiling patiently at the young, innocent, fresh, and confused neophyte. "It is not me. I am beyond such matters, such desires. A swami can transform his body in many ways. He can sleep on nails, walk on hot coals. None of this means anything to him. Please, please, see for yourself, go ahead and touch it, feel for yourself."
"Yes, yes, my child. It will not bite you." He giggled, as if he had just made a joke. "I will not respond. I am past such worldly, base reactions. Come, come, child, place your hands on this mystic zone."
"Well, okay, if you say so." Pamela reluctantly, cautiously, and with considerable skepticism, removed her hand from her pussy and reached out to grasp hold of the Swami's stiff, hard, erect dick and, he was indeed correct. It was as stony as a steel rod. "Wow, that's really amazing, Swami. It really does feel all hard and stiff, and everything, like it really is a, well, um..." She added quietly, "an erection."
"Yes, of course, child. I am have complete control of my body. And, with my training, someday you shall as well."
Pamela tore her eyes away from what seemed to her to be an erection to look into the Swami's face as she continued to feel and fondle the Swami's mystic zone. He did appear to have a point. He was not displaying any visible reaction that she could discern. His face did not change expression. There was no deep sigh of pleasure, no blissful grin on his face. He did not react to her touch like many other guys had previously done. He in fact seemed quite indifferent to it.
She tried stroking it like she was jerking him off, trying to detect some form of reaction in him. She smiled to herself. It was kind of like trying to distract one of those guards at the Buckingham Palace. She wondered how one of them would react to having his erection fondled and stroked like she was doing now. She never had a guy who wouldn't react to her sensuous finger flirtations, but apparently she had indeed met her match. The Swami just smiled with this all-knowing grin.
Still, she said, "It sure does though feel like an erect...um, penis."
"Yes, yes. Life is full of illusions, my dear. The physical world is full of deception, apparitions, and beguilements. This is but one of many you will discover as you walk the path to enlightenment. Use both on hands on, what would you call this? What did you call it?"
"An erect penis?" Pamela asked.
"Yes, yes. What else have you called it?"
"Oh golly," Pamela answered, not wanting to share that with him. She did at times talk dirty with guys. Some of them seemed to like that. But somehow speaking like that didn't seem right with a spiritual leader. "I don't think I can do that, Mr. Swami."
"Pamela, please, they are just words. Words have only the meanings your social world has prescribed for them. They are but waves of sound drifting through space. They have no meaning to me."
Pamela had a sudden epiphany. "You mean like when a tree falls in the forest and nobody can hear it?"
"Yes, yes, Pamela. You are learning. You are becoming wise before your years."
Pamela was so pleased and proud. "Cock! I like to call it a big hard stiff cock," she gleefully offered, now more comfortably and explicitly stroking the shaft up and down its length.
"Yes, yes, more, Pamela. I am indifferent. Sticks and stones, Pamela, sticks and stones."
She knew what that meant. She remembered hearing that as a little girl. "And, dick. I like to call it a stiff hard dick too."
"Yes, but please, please, do use your other hand as well, child. Use both hands. Pretend like you are actually trying to make this stiff hard cock and dick all excited."
"Yes, sir," Pamela replied. She removed her other hand from her breasts and brought it into the action: stroking him with both hands, at times using one hand to tickle, caress, and fondle the smooth swollen purple bulb, at times using another hand to softly cup, hold, and caress his hanging balls, all the while talking about his cock in various ways. "Yes, sometimes I like to talk about it like it's a stiffie or a boner, you know, kind of teasing him, like, 'Golly, gee whiz, Mr. Swami, you have such a big hard boner. I've never seen a boner so big and hard before!'"
"Yes, that's good, child, very good," the Swami replied, his eyes fixed on how Pamela's humongous boobs were bobbling and wiggling so mightily as she worked so frenetically on his cock. She was now stroking it with substantial vigor, as if she was trying to make the Swami come, but knowing full well that there was really no possibility of that actually happening. This was one of the best handjobs the Swami had ever received. Pamela was indeed an excellent student of yoga and meditation.
All the while Pamela continued to say dirty and obscene things. "Oh Swami, your cock is so fucking hard, so big and stiff and swollen. I don't think I've ever seen such a scary cock before." She looked up at him with her innocent, pleading, blue eyes and asked, "Please, Mr. Swami, won't you please shoot your hot sticky stuff all over me?"
But, the Swami stepped back, literally wrenching his stiff cock from her hands. "No, no child."
Pamela felt bad. She realized that she had gotten a little carried away, forgetting where she was, what she was doing, and why she was doing it. Of course he wasn't going to actually do that! She felt bad for suggesting or implying that such a thing might in fact happen. She put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "Oh gosh, Master, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"No, no child, do not apologize. You were in fact being very mindful. You were in the moment, forgetting where you were, what you were doing, and why you were doing it. You were being very mindful indeed. You were just being, being-in-the-world."
"Really?" She felt so much better. She had felt like she was just jerking him off onto her face when in fact she was actually being-in-the-world? She really did have a lot to learn.
"Yes, child, yes. Let us now assume a new yoga position."
"Sure!" Pamela was now quite eager to learn more, feeling in fact rather excited and exhilarated.
"Yes, yes, good, child. Please, assume the Bhujangasana position."
"Cobra. It's also called the cobra yoga position."
She knew she probably should have done some reading before this first lesson. She had asked him about that, and didn't really appreciate feeling embarrassed about not knowing the Cobra position. She knew lots of positions, but not the cobra. "Golly, Swami, I know the doggie but not the cobra."
"Pamela. I'm so sorry. Of course, of course. You were making such rapid progress that, for a moment, I forgot this was in fact just your first lesson! You seem so farther along than most."
Pamela felt better again and smiled. "Golly, Swami," she replied, her face reddening at the compliment.
"Bhujangasana, or Cobra, is a hatha yoga position in which you lie prone on the floor, on your tummy and place your hands on the floor beside your pectoral muscles."
"My what?" She really didn't do that well in biology, and besides, that did sound like something only guys had.
"Your breasts, my dear, your breasts."
"Oh yes, I see," she replied.
"Now, place the hands, palms down, under the shoulders on the floor. Inhaling, without lifting your navel from the floor, raise your chest, your breasts, and head, arching your back. Obtain as complete a stretching of the body as possible."
Pamela followed his instruction.
"Now, be sure to press the tops of the feet and thighs and the pubis firmly into the floor."
"Your sweet little pussy, dear," he clarified.
Pamela blushed. It did seem odd for her Master to refer to it that way, but she had to admit it was then easier for her to understand what he was saying. It also seemed like an odd thing to do, but it did feel nice to be finally hiding her "pussy" from view.
"Now, on an inhalation straighten your arms to lift your chest off the floor, going only to the height at which you can maintain a connection through your pussy to your legs. Press the tailbone toward the pussy and lift the pussy toward the navel. Narrow the hip points. Firm, but don't harden the buttocks."
'Goodness,' Pamela thought, 'that was all a bit complicated.' But, the Swami helped to position her as precisely as possible, shifting a thigh here, a buttocks there, all the while his erect cock was poking out from him, often bumping into an arm here, a cheek there, and once even a boob. She was so relieved to know that it didn't have anything to do with sex.
In the end it was a good position for stretching the back. She did have to admit that.
"Yes, see, yes, very good," he observed in his exaggerated Indian accent, "it looks like the raising of the head of the Cobra."
Pamela didn't know about any snake's head, but it did seem to present her boobs in a rather incongruous position, jutting them out but hanging them out as well, easily swinging and swaying before her.
"Now, I will complete this position with my complementary Grass Snake position." The Swami got up on his feet to stand before her.
Pamela wondered what the position for a Grass Snake would be.
"Yes, yes. I will stand here, in front of the cobra. I must get very close to cobra." He moved up closer and closer until the head of his cock was just an inch from Pamela's lips. "Yes, Pamela, very very good. Now open your mouth and we will complete the yoga position."
"Open my mouth?" Her mouth was in fact already a bit open, in surprise and disbelief. It was like when she saw her first erect cock. She had seen quite a few since then, but not one on a spiritual leader, guiding her to transcendent growth. She really hadn't expected the path to self-enlightenment to involve having an erect cock in her mouth. Still, as he said, this was simply an illusion of the body world. This world was such a strange and confusing place. She opened her mouth.
"Yes, very, very good dear. Now close your eyes."
Pamela did so, feeling a bit vulnerable, wondering what he might do.
The Swami smiled down at his protégé, his student, her face dutifully, receptively, submissively raised up to him in the Cobra yoga position, her mouth now open, waiting for him to insert his cock within her mouth. She was so darned pretty, with such wonderfully kissable lips, such rosy red cheeks, such beautifully symmetrical features. She was indeed one of the best apprentices he had seen in years.
The Swami slid his cock inside the young lady's warm wet mouth. "Now, Pamela, close your lips, be silent and be one with the world, with nature, with peace, your true inner self. End all thoughts, all feelings, and just be with Cobra and Snake in Grass."
Pamela tried, but it sure was difficult. She could swear that the Swami's stiff dick was in her mouth. Which it was, but she tried not to think of it as a cock. But, how do you ignore something like that? Plus, his crotch hair was kind of ticklish, and the more she tried to ignore it the more it seemed to tickle and itch her nose.
The Swami, though, was not inconsiderate. She was after all a novice to yoga. He grasped her head in his hands and helped her to hold it still as he slowly drew his cock in and out of her mouth, humming and uttering phrases that were all unintelligible to Pamela.
"Aum sahanaavavatu, Sahanau bhunaktu" he said as he slid his cock into her mouth, "Saha viiryan karavaavahai" he hummed as he pulled his cock out, "Tejasvi naavadhiitamastu" he said as he pushed it back in, and "Maa vidvishhaavahai" he finished as he pulled it back out. He kept repeating this mantra over and over and over as he very slowly, very gradually, very sensually, pushed his dick in and pulled it out of her mouth, never actually fully removing his cock, always stopping when it was just about to separate from her lips, always pausing there to let her lips rest against the round plum of his cock, as if she was actually kissing it, and then slowly pushing it back in.
Pamela kept her eyes closed, trying her best to be one with the world, one with nature and peace, and with, with, what else did he say? She knew she shouldn't ask him, and really couldn't with this mystic zone in her mouth. She did though feel an urge to at least bring her tongue into this yoga exercise.
The Swami spoke softly, "Now, Pamela, raise up your tongue, like the cobra, and meet my mystic zone with your tongue."
Well, that made her feel better. She had apparently anticipated the next yoga exercise. She did as she was instructed, licking his mystic zone as he slowly, sensually drew it in and out of her mouth.
He did now, though, at least translate his mantra for her. "Yes, child, may both of us be protected together, may both of us be nourished together," as his cock slid in. "May both of us work together with great vigor," as his cock slid out. "May both of us study to be enlightening," as his cock moved in. "May no obstacle arise between the two of us," as his cock slid out. He continued to say this, over and over and over, as he softly, slowly fucked her mouth while she worked on his stiff dick with her tongue, focusing in particular, whenever she had the chance, on the underside of the crown where she knew he would be most sensitive. She knew that guys especially liked it when she did that.
The Swami though appeared to be immune, exempt, invulnerable, to the ministrations of her tongue. She didn't know what to think of that. By now, the boys, the men, she had nibbled on before would have been weak in the knees, begging her to bring them off, to let them explode into her mouth or onto her face, or to at least be able to fuck her up the cunt. But, the Swami was entirely silent, other than the monotone sound of his mantra, which she now understood as their mantra, for their snake lotus coupling.
She concentrated on the Swami's voice, as she did his dick.
The Swami did eventually stop his mantra and he slowly extracted his cock.
Pamela dutifully kept still, her eyes closed, albeit feeling a little self-conscious over the fact that she could feel a bit of spittle hanging from her lip and chin, her breasts now heaving with excitement as they hung before her.
The Swami again admired her features, her prettiness, her allure, which appeared all the more enticing with his cock still connected to that lovely mouth by a strand of wet spittle.
The Swami spoke very softly. "Now, Pamela, very slowly, lower yourself fully to the ground."
It wasn't really ground as she was lying across a large throw pillow.
"I will now teach you the next yoga position, the Adho Mukha Svanasana."
She had no idea, of course, what that meant, but she knew he would helpfully explain each step. He instructed, "Set your knees directly below your hips and your hands slightly forward of your shoulders. Spread your palms, index fingers parallel or slightly turned out, and turn your toes under."
It was quite a bit of detail, but apparently that was important.
"Exhale and lift your knees away from the floor. At first keep your knees slightly bent and the heels lifted away from the floor. Yes, yes, very good, Pamela." The Swami changed position to get behind her. It was a better angle to instruct. "Lengthen your tailbone away from the back of your pelvis and press it lightly toward the pussy. Very good, Pamela," he instructed, although helping her a bit as well, placing his hands on her buttocks to direct her. "Against this resistance, lift the sitting bones toward the ceiling, and from your inner ankles draw the inner legs up into the groin."
His instruction remained confusing, but he continued to help her through by pushing her bottom here, shifting her breasts there.
"Then with an exhalation, push your top thighs back and stretch your heels onto or down toward the floor. Straighten your knees now but be sure not to lock them. Firm the outer thighs and roll the upper thighs inward slightly. Narrow the front of the pelvis. Yes, yes, very, very good."
Pamela had never been in this position before. It was very much like a doggie position, for another activity, but she was now on her feet and hands rather than her knees and elbows, which made it a bit more difficult to maintain her balance, nor did it help that her bounding breasts were hanging down in all their bulbous glory, bobbling and wiggling left and right, further challenging her balance. What was consistent with traditional doggy though was what was most important: her bottom was sticking well up in the air.
"Yes, Pamela, very good, very natural, very excellent Adho Mukha Svanasana. This position also called 'Downward facing dog.'"
'Well,' thought Pamela, 'that name now made very good sense.' Apparently yoga positions aren't too terribly different from sexual positions. Well, at least this did feel really darned sexual with her bottom sticking up so high. Frankly, her bottom wasn't even this high in the doggie position!
This alternative perspective on Adho Mukha Svanasana was also not lost on the Swami. He had in particular a rather nice perspective. The position was really providing to the person standing behind her a very open view of the puckered lips of Pamela's anus and the peach slit of her cunt. It was really very, very suggestive, to say the least.
And, it was perhaps even more submissive than the doggie position with the girl's balance now more tentative being on her feet and hands, spread forward and back quite a bit of distance. The Swami tapped Pamela's inner thighs to encourage her to spread her legs out a bit wider, providing her with an improved stance to better hold her position, but also providing him an even more open view of her cunt, as well as giving him some room to get in between her legs.
"Now," the Swami explained, "I will teach you your first lesson in spiritual awareness. You will soar above your bodily senses and fly as a dove among the clouds, far above the earthly world. Would that be to your satisfaction, my dear?"
"Oh yes, Swami, sir, that would be very nice indeed."
"Yes, yes. Now, pupil, concentrate on your feelings, your sensations, focus your mind on what you feel in the here and now. Do not be distracted by your past, by what others have said, by what your parents believe, by what your worldly blinded high school teachers may have taught you. Close your eyes and just feel yourself be."
"Yes sir, Swami, sir," Pamela replied. She just couldn't quite become certain how exactly to refer to her Master, her Swami. She did though obey him implicitly and closed her eyes, trying to clean her mind of everything in the past, everything that was and might be, and just be in the present.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes opening up as she felt what was in the present, what was presently in a most personal spot. The Swami was apparently exploring her pussy as she was exploring her inner self.
"Trust me, Pamela," the Swami instructed. "Close your eyes young child and let yourself be."
Pamela briefly wondered if that was in fact a Beatles song, or was that let it be me, or something like that. 'Oops,' she realized. She was in the past, exploring her past, she must stay in the present, focusing her mind, her attention on the here and now. "Is that another magical zone?" she inquired.
"Mystical zone, dear, yes, yes, child, very special here, very powerful for self-transcendence. Let your most special mystic zones guide you to growth, to awareness."
Pamela tried to do that, but all that she was feeling was an increasing sexual arousal as the Swami continued to slide his fingers up and down her slit, as if he was caressing them, at times even stopping at her clit to softly squeeze it, to even pinch it a bit, to massage it around and around and around, whispering, "very mystic, yes, Pamela, feel the force within you building, your psychic energy growing, and growing, and growing."
"Oh my," Pamela exclaimed, "Swami, I think I can feel it." She wasn't entirely sure what she felt. There was an increasing sense of excitement. Her heart rate was accelerating, her breathing as well, an increasing warmth growing within her loins, moisture developing on her pussy. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she realized that she was in fact getting wetter and wetter. The Swami would most certainly notice it and probably figure she was getting sexually aroused. It did sure feel like that. She wondered if she was doing this wrong.
The Swami noticed her increasing moisture, and he worked her feminine fluids throughout her pussy, using her moisture to lubricate her flesh, her clit, to make his caressing, his massaging, even more sensually pleasurable.
"Oh my goodness, Swami," Pamela gasped.
"Yes, yes, Pamela, I can feel your growing transcendence. Do you not feel aware, Pamela? Do you not feel it growing and building?"
"Well, golly yes, Mr. Swami. Oh my!" she squealed when she felt him pinching her clitoris. "Are you sure this is the way?"
"Oh yes, Pamela, I am very sure, very, very sure," he responded, slipping a finger up inside her cunt, which wasn't at all difficult given how swollen, wet, and aroused she had become.
"Oh Mr. Swami, please!" Pamela pleaded, but it wasn't clear whether she was pleading for him to stop or to diddle her even harder. She felt so confused, and it was such a rather awkward way for her to be masturbated, on her hands and feet like this, all spread out and poking up, but its obscene exposure was also terribly erotic.
Pamela had seen how the Swami had transcended such feelings, not really responding to her hand, or to even her mouth, remaining so above and beyond it all, so far out there within the mystic plane, yet she seemed to be primarily becoming just lustfully aroused. She even began to slowly twist, turn, and gyrate her hips, grinding her pussy against the Swami's finger as it slowly fucked in and out of her cunt.
The Swami though was very reassuring, which was so helpful to hear. "Yes, very good, Pamela, very good response. You are learning this position very quickly. Wiggle and squirm your buttocks. This is most helpful for enlightened yoga exercise." He worked his finger around and around inside her cunt, twirling it, screwing it, twisting and bending it in all sorts of positions, as Pamela did likewise in a complementary fashion with her bottom.
"Is this right?" Pamela gasped, wanting to be sure that she wasn't just fucking his finger and in a rather grossly obscene manner at that.
"Yes, yes, very good, Pamela, excellent dharma."
It is said that a true Swami can assume many yoga positions. Swami Radhamadhavananda Rahuleshwaranandj was a master with his finger, particularly when it slipped up inside a pupil's cunt, and the Swami's expertise was having a very clear and real affect on Pamela.
And, Pamela was indeed terribly, terribly impressed. She had never been diddled this way before. She wanted more. She wanted lots, lots more. She wanted to squat down onto the Swami's finger, and perhaps, no definitely, on more than just one. She wanted to pump her cunt onto two or three or four of his fingers while perhaps he, or she, massaged her nub. "Oh Swami," she moaned, obscenely thrusting her cunt on and off his finger, the room now filled with the lewd noises of her wet, squirting, slushing cunt.
The Swami, being sensitive to the emergent states of being of his pupils, withdrew his finger. He knew that few could take his fingering for long and, besides, he wanted to take her farther. He wanted to provide her with more than just his finger.
"Oh Mr. Swami!" Pamela gasped as she felt her cunt emptied of the Swamis magically, mystically squirming finger.
"Pamela," the Swami announced, "your past is behind you and your future is now behind you."
Pamela had no idea what he meant by that but, then again, her mind was now just a cloud of confusion and lust. "Yes, Mr. Swami," she gasped, "my future is behind me."
"Pamela, this staff of knowledge is before and behind you. You must absorb it inside you. Are you ready to receive the staff of knowledge, of growth, of wisdom."
"Oh yes, yes, Mr. Swami, please, I am ready. I know I am. I can feel how ready I am deep inside me, inside my true inner self and being."
She did appear to be getting the hang of it. "Excellent, Pamela, very good. I can see that you have already broken from the constraints, the conventions, the foolish and blind trivialities of your worldly past, leaving them behind you and entering the new world as your true self."
"Yes, yes I am, Swami, please give me the staff of knowledge," and she did her best to obscenely arch her back, trying to make her position even more receptive, her willingness and desire clearer.
The Swami took his position in between Pamela's thighs and with one quick, deft motion, slid his hard stiff dick up inside the young lady's smoldering, steaming, hot, dripping cunt.
The Swami explained. "This is the cosmic dance, Pamela, of Adho Mukha Svanasana." He repeated their earlier mantra as he thrust his dick in and out of Pamela's cunt. "Aum sahanaavavatu, Sahanau bhunaktu" he said as he plunged his cock deep into her cunt, "Saha viiryan karavaavahai" he hummed as he pulled his dick out, "Tejasvi naavadhiitamastu" he said as he pushed it back in, and "Maa vidvishhaavahai," as he pulled it back out.
"Oh Swami Master!" Pamela loudly exclaimed, her head feeling faint, her legs feeling weak, her mind so very confused, wondering how she could possibly maintain Adho Mukha Svanasana when the staff of knowledge was thrusting in and out of her cunt, nor did it help that her breasts were now slapping against her face with each inward plunge of the Swami's staff, further upsetting her balance.
The Swami though helped Pamela maintain her balance by grasping her perky bottom cheeks with his hands, but also taking that opportunity to spread them open so he could see better down inside that personal, intimate valley. "Pamela, yes, open yourself up, reveal your inner self," he instructed as he contemplated Pamela's rosebud.
Pamela didn't know what he meant. It was not really an opportune time for her to contemplate much of anything, other than the here and now, her immediate being, but she did feel that she was already pretty darned opened up, through which the Swami was now thrusting, plunging, and driving his cock.
But, not surprisingly, she quickly learned that she could open further, as her Master plunged a finger down into her butt hole, now driving a finger in and out of her butt, as his dick did likewise to her cunt, at times popping his finger out like a cork, briefly leaving her ass hole gaping, thereby indeed opening herself even further, revealing that deep, dark, inner self.
The Swami could feel himself getting very close to exploding his load and he pumped and thrust Pamela's cunt even more fervently, more frenetically.
Pamela's pussy began to quiver. She could feel herself getting there, but she wasn't sure exactly where that was. Was it enlightenment? She returned her master's thrusts with her own, gyrating her hips and grinding her cunt against his cock.
The Swami said, revealing a bit of breathlessness, "Child, I will now reveal for you one final demonstration of mystical enlightenment."
"Oh Swami," Pamela gasped. She wasn't sure that she could handle much more truth than this.
"You must receive the elixir from the vesicles of wisdom."
"Oh, yes," Pamela moaned, feeling her heart racing, her body trembling. She really didn't think she could keep her balance, her wits, much longer. "Yes, yes, please give it to me."
With a loud slushing noise, the Swami wrenched his cock from Pamela's cunt. "Turn and face me, child, and receive the elixir."
Pamela groaned with frustration, bemoaning the loss of the cock within her cunt. She had been so, so close, but apparently that would not be her enlightenment and, of course, it shouldn't be. That would just be an orgasm. She was about to receive much, much more and she gladly shifted her body around to receive her ablution.
But, when she faced the Swami all she saw was his cock, which looked on the verge of erupting. The head looked so brightly purple, so inflamed. She asked with some incredulity, some doubt, "You're going to come on my face?"
"Oh no, no, Pamela, I will not, as you so crassly describe it, 'come on your face,'" he explained, stroking his cock with his hand to keep himself primed and pumped. "This will not be a bodily ejaculation. This will be an anointment, a sanctification, a consecration. I will feel nothing myself. I gain no pleasure from this. The pleasure will be all yours, the enlightenment will all be yours," he instructed, as he aimed his cock at her innocent, concerned eyes. "Here now, receive it," he gasped as his dick ejaculated its load.
Pamela closed her eyes, rested her hands on her knees, and tilted back her head, her face, to more fully receive the anointment of the Swami's potion.
The first wad splatted right on the tip of her nose. If there was one thing the Swami was good at it was bodily control, and aim. In fact, he let go of his cock to simply watch it jerk and twitch as it fired round after round of sticky wet slop all over the girl's face. It was like it had a mind of its own, and one that recognized the importance of providing an even distribution of sperm.
Pamela gasped, "Oh yes, yes, I feel it, Mr. Swami, it's everywhere!"
"It's everything," the Swami gasped through the climax sweeping and coursing through his body. "It's the totality...the wonder...the truth," he ejaculated, after each ejaculation of seed was released onto the girl's face.
"I'm one with the world!" Pamela squealed as she felt her face becoming so thoroughly drenched and swamped with the Swami's elixir. It felt so warm, so inundating, so fulfilling. It seemed terribly close to having a guy come all over her face, but she knew it was much more than just that, and she basked in the delight, the pleasure of feeling her face so thoroughly drenched, doused, and plastered.
The Swami enjoyed it as well. Pamela was such a pretty girl, with her rosy red cheeks, perky little nose, sultry blue eyes, and pursed red lips, all of which was now being splattered with globs and ropes of sperm, which made her appear even more wonderfully enchanting and engaging. She was even smiling blissfully through the rain of seed, clearly so very delighted in being awash with his sloppy, sticky spunk.
When the Swami appeared to be finished Pamela sighed with deep pleasure, and satisfaction. One particularly big glob of potion was right on the tip of her lips, like it was kissing her. She slipped her tongue out and brought it inside. It sure did taste like a guy's sperm. Well then, all the better.
She reached up with a hand to scoop some of it away, particularly the stuff that was covering her left eye.
"Oh no, no, my dear," the Swami intoned. "You mustn't disturb it. For its true benefit you must let it naturally dissipate on its own. It is really very prophylactic and medicinal. You will not be ill for many days."
"Oh, my, well, okay...I guess," Pamela responded, feeling a little funny about that. She imagined that the Swami's elixir might also look quite a bit like a man's sperm and she wasn't so sure about wearing anything like that out in public.
Plus, it was rather difficult getting her clothes back on with the stuff all over her face, at times dripping down onto a boob, then a brassiere, and then her dress. She at least was able to comfortably open her right eye. That did help quite a bit.
The Swami though was not himself particularly helpful. He had resumed his lotus position, resuming his meditation. Pamela found the way he seemed to be staring at her quite disconcerting. It was like she was dressing but he was mentally trying to undress her at the same time, fighting her every move. But, that, of course, was just silly as he had just seen her completely undressed and, besides, he just wasn't interested in things like that.
When she was ready to go she asked, much of his sperm still plastered across her face, "Um, well, is that it? I mean, well, should I, can I, come back for more lessons?"
The Swami smiled reassuringly. "Of course, my dear, but next time please bring donation, twenty-five percent of your salary would be nice, just twenty-five percent."
Twenty-five percent was not very much. That would still leave her with, um, 75%. That was way more than half of it. However, there was a problem. "But, I don't have a job, Mr. Swami."
The Swami looked surprised, and concerned. "No job?! No job?!" He exclaimed in his exaggerated Indian accent. "Oh, my goodness, dear, you must generate an income." He got up from his position, donned his robe, and led her back into the waiting room. "Yes, my dear, spiritual enlightenment isn't a free lunch. Great sacrifices must be made."
"Well, I was going to let Playboy take pictures of my, um, my earthly vessel? Would that be OK?"
“Yes, well, for your enlightenment yes; pose and cash the check and bring…no, better yet: you will bring me to the Mansion and I can share enlightenment with the other bunnies.”
"Well, I'll sure try, Mr. Swami," Pamela boldly exclaimed. "Honest I will." When she had left home that morning it had in fact been her intention to find enlightenment, so it wasn't like she was being asked to do something she wasn't already going to do anyway. In fact, she now had an even more important reason to pose. She left the Hari Guru headquarters with renewed confidence and resolve. She was so glad that being a Playmate could be so enlightening.