⁃        Yoga...

       My name is Padma. Actually it's a much longer name but most Americans can't pronounce it, and when they can they want to follow it by telling me about how their aunt is Indian, or how they like Indian food, or their latest trip to India, so I just prefer not to go there.

       I'm twenty seven years old. I was born in England. My parents were born in the South of India. They moved to England so they could make more money. That's where I was born. I'm English. Then we moved to the United States to make even more money when I was about ten. Then we moved to California to make yet more money when I was thirteen.

       I feel like life was constantly difficult socially. My parents in some ways wanted me to be Western, and in other ways wanted me to be Indian. I ended up mostly Western. I wanted to fit in with the people I grew up with. I watched the same t.v. shows, ate the same food, played the same games, but I often was imagined to be this exotic foreigner, though I had often moved from only a few hours away.

       No one wanted to smoke pot with me, sneak beers with me or have sex with me. None of the girls wanted to explore their bi-side with me. I wanted to do all of these things, but my friends all thought I should be protected from these things.

       I did yoga off and on. People thought I was good at it, even though I was a pretty average undevoted student. I must be good at it, I have dark skin and my mom makes curry all the time.

       I went to school in San Francisico. It represented to me the heart of rebellion and craziness. But there I still ended up being a yoga student that was unduly praised, with a boring social life.

       So eventually I went with it and I made yoga my full time job. I dedicated myself to it more fully and I got pretty good at it, and I was pretty good at pretending to be 'spiritual'. It was pure sales, and my dad trained me well at it. I made older students feel more accepted, which made newer students strive to be in that special place. I created an unspoken hierarchy, and made sure that everyone felt they couldn't possible be as good as a Hindi woman. Since I'd been exposed to racism my whole life, I always knew they would fall for that. They didn't need to know I'd done all my training with white people.

       I made a great schedule for myself. From Friday dusk until Tuesday dawn, my high ranking students ran my classes. They worked cheap. They basically worked for the honor of working for me. I was at my private meditation place, praying, fasting and chanting in my private hut in the hills to serve them all better.

       In reality, I took off my sari in the car, under which I inevitably wore a tank and little shorts when the weather was good. But always tight things that couldn't be seen under my sari. I went to my place in Oakland and visited the dive bar around the corner. For a while I was the bar slut, and I would get some drunk guy to come home with me, but eventually I ended up with a kind of boyfriend --Aaron.

       Aaron had a girlfriend and a couple kids I think. But he would spend most of the weekend with me. He was the only black guy I ever slept with that would let me wrap my hands around his cock so he couldn't go all the way in. I couldn't stand the full penetration. We were completely wrong for each other in that way. I always kind of hoped I would get bigger, stretch or something, but I didn't. But we had a great time together. Aaron smoked pot with me, played video games with me, watched movies, drank with me, and fucked me. He didn't care that I was Indian, and I didn't care that he was practically married.

       

               But one day a girl walked into my class and I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. It was out of character for me. Maybe it was that I was getting fucked regularly. I'm not sure, but she walked into my class and when she spread her legs to stretch I felt myself salivate. She was obviously young,  I didn't really want to know how young, but she was so tall, so fully a woman. I vacillated between wanting her to come back to my class, and never seeing her again. But when she came back for her fourth session I found myself trying to manipulate her.

       I told her she was a natural in front of a high ranking student, knowing he would tell her what an honor that was. I acknowledged her with small nods at first, but that was more than I had ever done for any beginner. All the students were letting her know through their jealousy and their praise that she was a special student.

       Then one day she stayed after class to ask me about how to become enlightened.

       I smiled at her and told her it was very simple.

       And she begged me to tell her how.

       And I told her "Slowly."

       

       She started coming to me regularly to ask me stupid questions on how to 'be in the now,' and 'be without being' and all kinds of crap she's seen in ninja movies, apparently having no clue that there might be differences between Japan and India, but that was typical.  I gave her cryptic answers, but when I didn't I told her it required great discipline.

       Soon she was begging me to guide her, to show her how to discipline herself.

       I begin to give her private instruction for free, because she was so 'gifted.' I gave her a series of poses that I told her came from my Indian guru, as his Sun Salutations, designed for only his students who were training for mastery. I told her it was all a big secret.  I told her even the poses she already knew had other names. And named them in English for her, which she appreciated unable to remember the sanskrit. And which I appreciated, because I didn't know the sanskrit for the commands I was giving.

       "Rejoice," I would start, and she would reach up in the air with both hands and balance on her toes. And the 'Receive,' variation her arms would open a little, and her chest lift to the ceiling.

       "Bow," folded her in half, her head against her knees, and the palms of her hands would be under the souls of her feet. The "Prepare," variation put her hands  flat, along side her feet pointing in the opposite direction.

       "Supplicate," and she would lay on her chest, elbows at her side, hands flat under her shoulders, her face pressing into the floor, her legs slighly parted.

       "Worship," I would say, and she lifted her body off the floor, her head looking straight up. Only her toes and hands making contact with the floor. Her breasts pointing straight ahead. Her back arched fully. It was just "Upward Dog," but it gave me visions of the future, and it sounded more serious, or enlightening or something.

       "Punnished," and at this command her ass lifted in the air into downward dog. Her arms and legs straight, her head hanging loose between her arms. Her legs still parted.

       I gave her all this shit about the duality between Worshipping creation and accepting its suffering as Punishment, and how Upward and Downward Dog only showed us they were opposites, and their shapes, but not the true meaning of the pose.

        I would give her 'Atone', where she lay her chest against her knees, arms stretched forward, formally Child's Pose. Then 'Burden,' and she would get on all fours. Then 'Kneel,' which was just a diamond pose variation. Then 'Pray,' in which she sat in mid-air, balanced over her feet, strengthing her quadraceps. And I found a way to make it link up nice and tidy, so each pose would progress smoothly from one to the next. I changed the routine all the time. I pushed her until she was glistening with sweat. Occasionally the sweat between her legs would be visiable and that was my greatest reward for a long time.

       I had her doing a thousand little things all day. I had her focus on holding her root lock in her meditation, as well as in her poses, which meant she worked her kegels all the time. I had her do all sorts of poses. I had her strengthening and stretching her shoulders so I could tie her up better. I had her stretching her tendons in her thighs so I could spread her legs further. I had her doing poses which would enable her to stay tied up in terrible contortions for longer, and make her familiar with them so she would be more willing to do them. I told her what to eat and when.

       After three months of this, I was starting to tire of it. I wanted to fuck her soon. I could barely wait. I wanted to spank her, humiliate her and make her lick me. It was all I could think about.  I finally told her if she didn't leave her parent's home and move into the studio I could no longer take her seriously.

       She moved in the next week. Her parents helped her. They thought I was a very good influence. It disturbed me how little guilt I felt.

       Her presence helped me remain patient. I started her on devotional prayers. She chanted her devotion to my will before the studio opened and after it closed and once after our practice. I enjoyed being present for her devotionals.

       I knew it would not be long.

       I still saw Aaron regularly, but when we did see each other we were fucking like crazy. I mean, we never did much else together anyway, but we'd hang out, kid around, play video games sometimes, but since I'd started training the young girl all I wanted to do was fuck.

       One night drunk and stoned I told him about my life as a yoga teacher. He almost split in half with laughter. I went to the car and got my sari and showed him what I looked like all day. I mocked myself, my show that I put on for students. He laughed and joined me. He put on my accent and sounded just like me. He sounded like he'd grown up an Indian in London. We laughed some more.

       I felt so comfortable, stoned, drunk, I don't know, but I told him about her. I told him about how I was trying to make her my bitch, that I was telling her she was special. He laughed some more. I told him that some day I'd like to see him fuck her.

       He started touching my breasts and rubbing his hard on against me. "Mmm girl, if you want me to fuck some stupid white bitch, I ain't gonna bother me none. I'll tap that shit."

       

       And I disolved and we fucked with my hand around his cock, while I dreamed of him impaling her with it.

***

       I started my discipling of her with something I'd seen on the travel network, where this guy went to study with zen monks and found out they get hit in the middle of their meditations to keep them awake. So I started with that excuse.

       While she sat in lotus position focusing on her 'root lock,' or clamping her pussy tight for me, as liked to think of it, I would say, 'Prepare.' When I said this she leaned far forward and I would whip her back with a leather wrapped flexible rod. It was decorated at the end and ended up having the effect of a riding crop. Then when she whined I would tell her that she should recite her devotionals to keep her focused.

       "Guru Padma guides me to the Atman with every instruction. Guru Padma's every breath is sacred and brings me closer to the peace I desire. Om Shanti. Thank you Mahatma Padma," she would repeat, and I would snap the whip across her back, and she would try and focus.

       We were basically living together, with her chanting my name all day, doing my bidding making me meals, cleaning my toilet.

       But occasionally she spoke and fuck if it wasn't irritating. She was gorgeous. She was so tall, with beautiful breasts, that were full and high and youthful. She had long legs and pretty vacant eyes. It was so wonderful to gaze at her topless, meditating in a white wrap, sitting erect, knowing she was holding her cunt muscles tight. But when she had moments of freedom and she spoke she was dumb as rocks.

       One day she was getting on my last nerve and I blew up "You will never be enlightened. I don't believe you can concentrate for any longer than a gnat. I doubt you have ever kept your mind clear of a flurry of ignorant thoughts for the length of a single breath."

       Her eyes produced tears that seemed larger than the eyes they filled. "Please I'm trying so hard Guru Padma."

       She threw herself to her knees and leaned forward stretching her arms forward.

       It was 'Atone.' I was not a little shocked she knew what the word 'atone' meant.

       "If this is to continue disciple, you must allow me complete access to you, mind, body and soul," I said, wondering if this could possibly work.

       "Of course, I am yours to manipulate, like clay. I just want to be more like you. I just want to be closer to God. I'll do anything, please. I'm doing everything. I've given up everything," she said.

       "You must give up your privacy, your walls that separate you from the universe. You are still divided," I said trying to come up with something.

       "I meditate half-naked. I feel so exposed, but I still don't feel," she begin sobbing and wailing. It sounded something like "I don't know."

       "You will allow me everything?"

       "Yes Guru," she said, her cries subsiding.

       "I must check if you have been performing the Mula Bandha root lock properly. You must only go about naked now. You're skin and the air will be one. Your skin and the floor. Everything is one," I said.

       She took off her cloth and returned to 'Atone' position.

       "Lay in bound angle," I ordered her.

       She lay on her back and put her feet together, so her pussy was open. I sit cross-legged next to her and bowed over her and babbled in ridiculous Hindi half-syllables. I made some strange motions with my hands and then put two fingers to her opening. She was dry.

       "I will ready you, but you must control your emotions. Only you can make yourself feel pleasure or pain. You must stay relaxed and focus on the silence behind the noise, the illusion of so-called reality."

       "Yes Guru," she said, wincing a little not knowing what was coming.

       I rested one hand on her solar plexus. "Breath into my hand."

       I felt her breath pushing against my hand, like we had practiced many times. Then I put the fingers of my other hand to her clit and started rubbing.

       Her eyebrows knitted together. She looked disturbed.

       "This is the surface display. There is no reality to any of this. This is a vibration, like the om, that floats above the silence. Without the silence the 'om' does not exist.," I said.

       Her face now went to her concentrated look, when she was trying very hard. I loved this pariticular face, because is just seemed so futile and ridiculous. Even though she didn't realize she was humiliating herself she was.

       I rubbed her clit slowly in circles, doing my best to control myself. Her beautiful breasts were perfect circles pushing into her chest. Her pussy became warmer and it was difficult not to check and see if she was wet yet, but I knew the most important thing was to make her feel as it this was a routine proceedure, and that I knew everything. That I must be sure she was soaking wet before I put my finger to her hole again.

       Her breathing became quicker and without being obvious I applied slightly more pressure and moved a little faster. She shivered a little.

       "Focus on your breathing, at the beginning and the end of each exhale think of your connection to everything, and everything's connection to you," my own pussy was throbbing and I wished I could have her crawl between my legs and make me cum.

       Finally I saw that the hair on her head was damp with sweat and she was struggling to stay relaxed.

       "Now fully relax," I instructed and said some other Hindi jibberish before I slid two fingers easily into her pussy.

       "Root lock in place," I ordered.

       And her muscles clenched around my fingers.

       "Now hold the root lock and I will look for defects in your practice."

       "Yes Guru," she whined.

       I begin slowly exploring her hole, rubbing the walls, hooking my fingers into her, pulling out and pushing in. My hand was quite wet with her juice. I wanted to start ramming her, but thought better of it and removed them, while she was still hungry for more.

       "That is passable. There are some flaws, you must focus on each root lock simultaneously and throughly. This may sound impossible, and it is, if you remain under the false illusion that  there are three separate locks. You must know in your spirit that all is one," I explained.

       "You may spend the rest of the evening in the studio as you will, but I want you to report to me your every thought when I return. You must remain so focused that you can remember every thought."

       I got out of there was fast as I could and went to Aaron's.

       We smoked some pot and while he fucked me I told him about putting my fingers in her cunt and how horny she was. I told him I thought her pussy was bigger than mine and she could probably take all of him. I fantasized aloud about her fucking her. He came twice. I showered and hurried back to the studio.

       "Worship," I demanded.

       She lay on the floor and carefully lifted her body off the floor, so that her breasts thrust in front of her, her ass was taut, her legs slightly spread. Her body hovered over the ground.

       "All locks in place, particularly the uddiyana abdominal lock to protect your back," I paced around her for effect. "Tell me what you have discovered about your mind in your meditation."

       "I can't tell you," she said. At this I realized her face seemed like it was red from crying.

       "You don't know how to describe your thoughts, or you don't want to share them?"

       "I don't want to share them," she said softly.

       "They are already shared. You are not a separate body, with a separate mind that can experience separate feelings. Everything is shared with everything. You will see that nothing will change when they are spoken or when they are thought, but you will not see if you do not try," I said cooly.

       "I thought about you touching me. I thought about --I don't know. I thought  --I think I'm in love with you," she said, her face tilted down, her chin tucked back in the Jhalandhara root lock.

       This took me aback a little. I kept her in the pose until she started to tremble. Then we completed our normal routine and sent her to bed and I went to my room.

       I masturbated furiously, and then wondered if it would cause problems for her to be 'in love' with me. I thought about going back to Aaron's but l hoped somthing would happen tonight.

       The next day we went through our regular routine. She was quiter, more obedient, more eager to please. It was a pleasant day.

       In the late afternoon she started to be a little skiddish.

       "What disturbs the clearness of your mind?" I fished.

       "Are you going to touch me again today?"

       "What is touch? Every vibration, every moment  we are connected, and the air breaths through the trees, the birds and humans alike, all of us share the same material, the same physical existance. We are all touching each other all the time," I avoided answering her.

       "But are you going to check if my root lock is right?"

       "If you are excited or frightened these are both symptoms of wrong thinking," I wondered if this was still the right tact to be taking but I couldn't tell if she wanted me to touch her again or not.

       "I don't know what to do," she said desprately.

       "Pray," I suggested.

       She squatted in the prayer posture. Her hands pushed together, her ass hovering in the air, her head bowed. All her poses were so much more delicious naked. It only became more and more diffucult to keep my hands off her. It thrilled me to watch her obey just a word so throughly, so physically.

       "Pray aloud," I told her.

       "I'm praying that I wasn't a teenager, and that I wasn't hormonal and irrational and horny. I'm praying that I'll stop wanting to masturbate and that I'll be able just be able to feel all one and just be relaxed like you, and never feel bad or good or anything, just be all 'om' and stuff," she said with frustration.

       "You think you are these things? You are already there. Everything that can be and could be is already in you," I wanted to tell her, yeah your just a horny fucking teenager, so let's fuck.

       "I don't feel like that. I just feel stupid."

       You are stupid I thought. You're squatting here naked doing everything some sadistic bitch tells you to do.

       "You are holy," I said.

       We went through the routine and the whole time I was trying to figure out how to twist things into a reason to fuck her.

       That night I decided to sleep in the studio. There was a little lecture room, where I had a kind of a throne. The kind I'd seen eastern speakers sit on for lectures. I had only a cot in the closet, but I just couldn't leave her. I was almost asleep when I heard her walk into my room. She approached the cot. And then nothing. A little later I heard the soft sounds of her sleeping and looked and saw her curled up on the floor next to me.

       I stayed in the studio for a few more nights. Each night I woke to her sleeping next to me. I finally decided to risk it all.

       In the evening I sat her down to have a talk.

       "You have failed," I started.

       She looked wrecked.

       "This is not bad. Most people fail much earlier and more often. This is your first failure. You are a very adavnced student, especially at your age. You are certainly the incarnation of a very powerful soul," I assured.

       She brightened a little.

       "But your balance of sensation is off and you are dwelling in the lustful," I tried to sound like my parents. Disgusted about the idea of sex.

       She looked down.

       "It is important that you understand the emptiness of these things. I believe that I can help you through this phase of understanding, but it will require complete trust and complete obedience," I warned her.

       "I am obedient aren't I?" she wondered out loud.

       "My demands will be become more difficult. We must go to a very dark place, the place where your obsessions come from. I don't know that you are prepared for the intensity of your trials. We must explore the limits of pleasure and pain, in its physical and spiritual manifestations. Are you willing to see these dark places?"

       "I think so," she said warily.

       "You must know," and I pounded my fist on the table at the word 'know'. It was sometimes so difficult not to laugh out loud at myself when  I did this shit. I was like some exotic, sexy version of Yoda. It cracked me up."There must be no question. You cannot turn back. You may not go home, you may not disobey, you will not be allowed 'no' and 'yes'. You will not be allowed 'This is too much Guru Padma,' or 'May I have more Mahatma Padma?'. Any requests will be under very strict circumstances, when I will make perfectly clear that it is an exception. Do you understand the seriousness of you commitment?" I knew she couldn't possibly. I enjoyed pretending I was making everything quite clear, when I hadn't really said anything at all.

       "I think so."

       "I will give you two days of meditation to answer. You are not to say a word between now and then, and if you leave the building you are never to return for any reason. Understand?"

       She nodded.

       I left as soon as I could. Aaron wasn't around, so I just hung out at my apartment. I was so nervous, but I thought I couldn't have done it more perfectly. If she left there me having fingered her would be a hard stretch to get me on legally. I didn't get her off. I didn't get off. She came to my room  and I didn't touch her. But if she stayed I could really do anything. Maybe I would commit her to a vow of silence, and then she could only write her parents notes and letters I could monitor. It just all seemed so perfect. I hadn't really planned that well, it was just all working out perfectly. The only thing that sucked was waiting two days, but I could wait. I couldn't sleep laying awake wondering how I would use her first. Wondering how I would get Aaron to fuck her.

       When I went back to the studio, she brought me breakfast. She was naked and kept her head bowed the whole time. While I ate her tits faced me in 'Worship' pose, her arms and toes holding the whole weight of her off the floor, while her head was bowed.

       When her body began to quiver with the effort, she relaxed into "Atone." When she thought she was ready she began "Worshipping" me again. I loved it.

       When I finished my meal she went into "Burden," on all fours. I placed my empty dish on her back and she slowly balanced it on her perfect naked back into the kitchen.

       It was so beautiful. I thought about whipping her during her mediation time, but thought better of it. I thought it would show more 'enlightened' restrainant, or indifference, or whatever, if I let her have the full two days. I went out again. I went to a movie. I went to a bar. I tried not to think about her.

       It was an excruciating two days.

       Then the morning of her decision I prepared a tea ceremony. And said some bullshit and read some stuff in Hindi and she listened carefully. It could have been a Danielle Steele novel and she wouldn't have known the difference.

       I cued her to give her reply.

       "I am ready," she said seriously.

       A vision in my mind sprang of her in downward dog, "Punish" with a dildo in her cunt and me whipping her.

       I had constructed a little ritual for her to do, that I did when I was a brownie in girl scouts. I had set up a 'ceremonial' bowl, a bamboo matt, some flowers and some rope, a scarf, an apple and the rod that I used on her in meditation. We approached the stuff. I gestured at the flowers for her to sit in them.

       She sat cross-legged. She looked so angellic.

       "This," I said gesturing at the bowl. "is the river of existance. Everything flows continually. We are but drops in this river."

       "This is the bridge," I said pointing at the mat. "This is the road of yoga, the yoke, the work of the yogi to become conscious and aware at all times of all existance."

       "The flowers you sit in, they are the illusion of happiness that separate you from becoming an awakened one."

       "The rod is the illusion of guilt and pain that separates you from becoming an awakened one. The rope is the illusion of separateness that binds you to the flesh. The scarf is the veil of illusion of itself, which you hope to transcend. The apple is the balancing of sensation. It is pleasure and pain. It can be nourishing or it can be poisonous," I put on a very severe look, one I'd inherited from my father. I stood stoically in my sari and stared hard at her,"And I am the illusion of intention and will."

       I felt like I had created a mood, a ritual I had contrived as pure bullshit, suddenly seemed real to me, that it wasn't just her making a decision but I to take care of her. And that I really did have to prepare her for a world beyond me, because I couldn't just go on taking care of her forever. I wished that I had thought about this ritual for two days, instead of fucking her, but here I was quite stuck if she followed through, which she appeared ready to do.

       "I don't think I'm ready," she said.

       I wanted to tell her she was right. I felt my hands sweating into the rope and the whip. I started trying to talk her out of it."All things are equal. Whether you awake, or stay asleep, all is perfect. It is only for freedom that you do it, and freedom is fleeting. You may become enlighted without training, you may never awaken if you train all your life. There are no guaruntees in this world. Walk across the bridge and enter a supreme challenge, or leave the studio with my blessings."

       She stood up, and I felt my heart beating. I wished to whatever god or gods might exist that she would leave now. But she approached the mat and put her bare, perfect foot on it.

       And I watched as she approached.

       "Hold this apple in your mouth," I put the apple to her lips and she opened them.

       "Bite," I said and she grabbed the apple well in her teeth. I let go and it stayed.

       I tied the scarf tightly around the apple, gagging her well.

       "Bow," I said, hoping she couldn't hear my hesitancy, my fear.

       She folded herself in half. Her legs and ass singularly displayed.

       "As part of this ceremony I bind you," I said as I began wrapping her with the rope. "You will in all future training bind yourself with the power of your mind. When you enter a pose, it will be as if you are bound to it with chains. No matter what happens you will maintain perfect stillness, because that is reality. Motion is an illusion. Time is illusion."

       " As part of this ceremony you are prevented from speaking. In the future you will not permit yourself to speak for one week, to practice binding your mind. Not a noise, not a sigh, not a grunt, or a squeal. In a week's time you will be given approved phrases and you will be limited to those phrases."

       I secured the rope with a knot I had practiced the night before in a book called "Knots for Boaters." I was expecting to know the book quite well soon.

       Then I picked the whip up and readied myself. To me to began to whip her was my bridge. It was the point of no return.

       I took a breath and wound up and then came sharply down on her ass.

       Not a sound. Not a movement.

       I pulled my arm back and swung again and hit her thighs.

       Nothing.

       I started to feel a rush of happiness. The bridge was crossed, this ass was mine to beat, mine to fuck.

       I whipped happily, rhythmically, covering her thighs, her calves, her ass. Her skin began to redden.

       I tried to use more force, more snap. I worked at making her show her pain. I knew she must be, and that she worked so hard to do as I ordered gave me a wonderful sensation of power over this lucious young body.

       I begin to whip her with the rod across both her ass cheeks in the same spot concentrating all the pain in one place.

       I paused and could hear her breathing hard through her nose.

       I lashed her three more times just for good measure.

       I begin untying her, "When you are untied  and ungagged you will be seated. You will meditate here until you hear the bell, then you will clean up the objects and you may come to me supplicant."

       She slowly moved in the prescribed ways out of 'bow' and into 'seated.'

       I smiled to myself thinking of the pain of sitting on the hard floor with her burning ass. My pussy dripped, my breasts throbbed. I hoped Aaron would be able to come fuck me tonight, but then I didn't want to leave. What if I wanted to play with my new toy? But it seemed important I show restraint. I didn't know what to do. My head spun.

       I rang the bell and she got up slowly and I saw the only marks left were the ones straight across her ass, from the rod.

       I went to my room, where my throne like thing was, all decorated with embroidered things and framed with plants, lit quite flatteringly.

       She came to the room and lay on her front. Her face in the floor.

       I let her lay there for some time, before I led her through a series of poses that I had her hold each for excruciating lengths of time. Usually I let her release not long after her muscles began to tremble, but today I let her tremble until she seemed she might collapse and then gave her another pose. After nearly an hour of this torture I commanded her to "Crawl."

       She got in her position on all fours.

       "Here," I pointed to the floor before me.

       She approached my throne and looked up at me.

       "Do not look at me," I stared.

       Her eyes darted to the floor immediately. Her head instantly bowed to me.

       "You may clean my feet," I offered and held out my flithy foot that had picked up dirt from all over the studio all day.

       She started to tilt her head up to look at me, and then remembered her order. She moved to crawl away, maybe to find a basin, or a wash cloths.

       "With your mouth," I said firmly.

       She put her face to my foot and paused there for a long while.

       I waited, anxiously.

       And then she began licking.

       

       It felt just strange at first and then it tickled and then it was luxuious, delicious. My fingers grazed next to my pussy, but I didn't dare to pleasure myself in front of her.

       Then I felt something change in her. She no longer was just licking my foot clean, but she was sucking my toes, her back arched and swayed as if she was receiving something from it. I let her get aroused, but once she became frenzied I gave her my other foot, which was flithy and she had to began to lick up dirt again and this calmed her somewhat. My pussy throbbed and I thought if Aaron were here I might even be able to take all of him. I just felt so hungry.

       I felt her making only small laps now and I removed my foot.

       "Rejoice," I commanded.

       She rose up on her toes and stretched. I wanted to run my hands along her waist and over her breasts.

       "Receive," and she tilted back, her face turned upward, and I could satisfy at least my eyes and ran them over her body.

       "Atone," and she moved to the floor, her body relaxed over her thighs, controlling her breaths, and showing relief everywhere.

       I sent her to make dinner and when she came to the room I had her kneel facing the wall while I ate.

       "Burden," she dropped to her hands and knees.

       "Come," I called and she came.

       "Atone, hands in inverted namaste," I told her.

       She bent over her legs, but instead of her arms stretched out in front of her, her hands met palm to palm behind her back, pointed toward her ass.

       I put a bowl of food under her face and watched her eat.

       I saw some tears hit the floor, but she never looked up at me, never whined.

       When she finished I took the bowl and let her wipe her mouth. Then I commanded "Attention," which was like kneeling, but her butt relaxed back on her heels.

       I handed her a blank journal and a nice pen.

       "You are to write for me your thoughts. Otherwise you will be allowed no voice, so you must write. Confess every wrong thought and explore every realization. Describe your confusions. Write about your sensations whether they are painful or pleasrable. You will learn much from this."

       I tortured her all week. I stayed in the studio every night. I reminded her what sacrifcies  I made for her, that I had no solitude or medation. At the end of the week I gave her the words "Yes Mahatma," "I am eternally grateful Mahatma," "Please Mahatma," "Thank you Mahatma," "Bless you Mahatma," "Forgive me Mahatma," and "Grant me mercy Mahatma."

       

       "Yes Mahatma" was the only thing that meant yes. Mahatma, means pretty much 'Great one.' But 'I am eternally grateful' was close. It just meant thank you, but it made her really appreciate how good I could be to her.

       

       "Please" meant basically "Please stop."

       

       "Thank you" meant "Thank you for the torment which is cleansing me."

       

       "Bless you" meant the torture was really so bad that maybe it was cleansing her too much.

       "Forgive me," was "Forgive me but I can't take it. You're killing me."

       And "Grant me mercy, Mahatma," my personal favorite, that I hoped to hear her say often, was her closest equivalent to shrieking and crying and begging me to stop. I made sure this was all understood in my diplomatic and clear way.

       I mostly put her in postures that required a lot of strength to hold until she sweat and trembled. Everyday I beat her with the stick. Sometimes only until she said "Thank you Mahatma," but once and a while, just for my own joy, until she said "Forgive me Mahatma."

       Everyday she ate her meals and drank water from the floor, with her hands behind her and she would tell me before and after she ate "I am eternally grateful Mahatma."

        Everyday I gave her humiliating chores, like licking my feet clean or whatever other uses I found for her.

       For instance, I brought her a mop and a broom with very thick handlesand I cut them very short. Only two feet tall from top to bottom.

       "These are to strengthen your root lock.  You will hold these in your yoni to sweep and mop the studio," I said and watched her long painful chore for it's entire two hours.        

       I finally had time to go to my apartment. Drink beer. Be normal.

       Aaron came over and I told him about how things were.

       "You're a sick bitch you know that?" he said staring.

       

       I kind of winced and smiled and said I know.

       He just laughed.

       We fucked and afterward while we lie in bed naked and I traced his muscles with a finger he said "When you want me to fuck her?"

       "I don't know. I think I should keep working on her, before then," and we discussed all the ways I could continue to manipulate her, to make her depraved for me, and him. We brainstormed until it made us excited again and then we fucked some more.

       Her journals were full of a lot of the bullshit I fed her about illusion and vibration and stillness, but once in a while there was some juicy bits about her feeling horny, or about lusting over me. And most satisfying were her conflicted feelings about her beatings. She spoke of how wonderful and proud (and how guilty she felt about feeling proud) she felt in not crying and not recoiling from my blows. She said the first time she decided to pretend it felt good she was suprised at how easy it was, but that now she had the opposite problem of finding it exciting to get beaten, which, she reasoned, was just as bad as not wanting to be beaten.

       I told her that she could give all her desire to me, that I was far enough along the path to take her burden. That if she wanted she could give it to me, that if she didn't want she could give it to me.

       One day I was lecturing her about giving me her emotions and her will. I accused her of not believing I could sustain the same things.

       And that was the first day she licked my pussy.

       I was up on my throne and I had her crawl to me.

       I opened my legs to her and exposed my cunt to her. "Clean my yoni."

       "Bless you Mahatma," which meant that she didn't want to do something, but was thanking me for giving her an experience she didn't really want. It was my favorite thing to hear her say. I wasn't punishing her so 'mercy' and 'forgive me,' didn't do her any good. It was the closest she had to a 'no.'

       She moved to right up to me and put her tongue on my pussy lips and begin to lick.

       I was flooded with delight. I felt so powerful. I'd had my cunt licked before, but never by someone I had molded like this. It was a completely different sensation. She obviously had no idea what she was doing, and was disturbed, so I instructed her carefully. It was so exquisite, and it was made all the more penetrating because I could not demonstrate in any way the pleasure she gave me. I had to make absolutely sure that she was convinced that I was getting nothing out of it.

       I breathed carefully and calmly and tried to stay neutral. But at the same time I gave her orders which only increased my pleasure.

       I kept watching her body, her perfect young skin. I didn't know that the incompetence of youth would be made up for by her body. I thought I was beautiful, sexy, but I had forgotten how perfect every inch of me was when I was a teenager. And I didn't appreciate it then either. Like this girl I had not been conscious at all of how delectiable I was.

       And knowing how I corrupted her, made me even more excited. Knowing that she wouldn't be licking a woman's cunt at all if I hadn't done all the work of making her believe that I knew something special that she needed to know. I loved the evil I felt. I'd always felt a little bad about tricking my students, but there wasn't a reward so great. This made all my evil seem so wonderful.

       I stayed amazingly relaxed made the orgasam stay far away and I kept her in my cunt for three hours solid. I gave her no rest and her discomfort added to the layers of my satisfaction. Sometimes I commanded her so that the pleasure would not be so intense, but so that her work was still just as difficult. I wanted to wait until her tongue showed signs of being tired. I wasn't sure that she was tired, I couldn't sense her slowing. I was so aroused that every movement of her mouth against my slit was just more and more wonderful. So I chanced that three hours would be plenty impressive. 

       "Shoulder stand, wide angle," I commanded as if she had just been doing a series of poses.

       She lay on her back and then raised her legs straight up in the air, her hands on her back. Then she spread her legs wide open until they were almost horizontal to the floor.

       Her pink lips were spread and appeared wet.

       I said "Namaste," and put my hands in the prayer position and then leaned over like a bird in to a fountain and began licking her.

       She began to tremble almost at once. I played her clit like an instrument with my tongue. I pushed my tongue around the edges of her hole. I manipulated her clit again and for the first time in days she emitted a moan.

       I stopped licking her immediately.

       "Forgive me Mahatma," she said for the first time. She had not said it during a single beating.

       I wanted to 'forgive her' and give her an orgasm, but instead I sent her to bed and masturbated myself to orgasm before I fell peacefully asleep.

       She wrote about the event in her journal every day for a few weeks. She had loved having her cunt licked and had never experinced it before. She admired my strength for having endured her cunt licking for so long when she barely lasted  five mintues before she erupted with sound.

       She was so amazed that she could be so flooded with sensation. And then after a few weeks she added she didn't know if she wanted to be enlightened if that feeling wasn't part of it.

       I hardly wanted her to quit, so  I decided to demonstrate both that I could experience great pleasure, and that she could beg for pleasure to stop if she got enough of it.

       First I had her go into a back bend and with one hand on her belly and one hand on her clit I began exciting her.        

       It wasn't long before she made a noise. I slapped her in the mouth and told her some shit about balancing the pain with the pleasure to see it was all one.

       

       I had her straddle my face in an uncomfortable standing pose and I ate her until she moaned again.

       So finally, as I had been anticipating I had her bow and tied a vibrator against her clit and another once just inside her hole. I pushed and them, turned them off and on. She moaned.

       I warned her that if she conintued moaning there would be punishment tomorrow, but she couldn't seem to stop herself and started crying out in pleasure, and occasionally saying "Thank you Mahatma, Bless you Mahatma, Yes Mahatma."

       She eventually shuddered very violently and relaxed, but I aggrivated her pleasure centers with the intruments. She jerked away.

       I walked out of the room.

       When I came back with the rope she was in  "Supplicate," crying. "Forgive me Mahatma."

       I tied her ankle and walked to one side of the studio where there was an eye hook, then I walked back and tied her wrist, so her arm pulled at her leg and her leg at her arm. Then I did the same thing on the other side wrapping the rope around a supporting beam.

       It looked very elegant the rope stretched out so far, her legs and arms open.

       And then I went back to work.

       I put on vibrator in her cunt and held it with my knee, so no matter how hard she squeezed it stayed, and I took the other and rubbed it on her clit. She was clearly enjoying herself, until she orgasmed again, but then she jerked around helplessly when her body longed to regroup, but I told her body to orgasm again and eventually it listened. She toggled between supreme pleasure and what seemed like agony. It was so wonderful to watch. She begin to sweat out of every pour. I wanted to take one of her perfect breasts in my mouth, or at least to touch it, but I resisted. I watched her face for the pleasure of her anguish.

       She begin writhing constantly, shaking her head violently, trying to shake of f the sensations. "Grant me mercy Mahatma."

       But though it was the strongest words I had given her I would give her no respite. Eventually the pleasure vaccated entirely and she was only crying, and begging me to stop.

       Her begging only aroused my sadism. Her anguish only pushed me to  great desire to see her suffer.

       "NO!" she finally cried.

       I left her there and came back with packing tape and an orange.

       I stuffed the orange in her mouth and taped an x over her face. Then I put the vibrators on her clit and in her cunt and taped them in.

       I rubbed against the tape with a hand. I held her hair out of her face and watched her face contort. When her eyes opened they darted around the room filled with terror. Mostly she kept them squeezed shut. I pushed her toward another orgasm and another. She pissed all over and I felt the tape loosen.

       I begin to lecture."You wanted this pleasure. You insisted pleasure was good. Well this is pleasure. I want you to know pleasure. When you desire, when you are full of attatchments and in the end what you acheive is pain. Whether you believe it feels good or not is an illusion. The thoughts in your mind are an illusion."

       Her body rocked crazily as another unwanted orgasm tore her open.

       "This is what you want, but want is misguided. I am your will. I am intention. You intended to feel pleasure, and here it is."

       I pushed and pushed until she begin screaming into the gag. Her eyes were red and wet with tears, her nose ran, her breathing was labored. She finally relaxed after another great push. I pushed a little longer, but she only shuddered now and then and her body seemed to have given up. I half wanted to force her back to a frenzy, but her resignation was a little boring.

       So I ripped the tape off and some of her pubic hair came with it, but she only grunted at this. I ripped the tape from her mouth and she gasped new air.

       I untied her wrists and her body collapsed inward.

       "You may do a series of stretches before you mop the floor," I offered and went to my room.

       In her journal she lamented pissing herself. She thanked me for pushing her. She said that she had enjoyed the first half dozen orgasms but that after that they were pure torture. She repeated what I had said in her one words, that too much pleasure led to pain and that she could see that. She wrote about how thankful she was that I could show her so clearly and that I believed in her, but that she couldn't understand why I chose her when she was so stupid and would never be good enough. And she kept saying how thankful she was. She said she was so embarrassed that she peed, but that she obviously couldn't control herself at all, and she wouldn't be surprised if I kicked her out.

       I didn't want her to feel like a failure, well, I did, but I didn't want her to stop trying, and I worried if she didn't feel she was making some progress somehow she might give up, and that wouldn't be any good.

       So we kind of switched gears for a while and we went back to training. She sat next to me in my advanced classes. She wore only a white wrap over her bottom. I had prepared an explaination about why it was important for the model student to be topless, but no one argued and some of the other women started coming topless too. I was pretty happy with the out come.

       

       She would stay in the pose and be the example for the class while I walked around and corrected people's positions. It was kind of a nice team really. People seemed to get off on looking at her, and I kind of enjoyed touching my students more. I now had this whole other attitude towards my students and I liked toying with them and making them squirm, knowing they were getting turned on, and pretending they weren't.  The men trying to hide their erections. I thought I might lose some students, but since they were all my most devoted students they didn't go anywhere. They kept paying and they kept coming.

       She continued cooking my meals for me. And I found I had more time to write bullshit articles for the yoga magazines and all the other things that kept me a high paid, respected teacher.

       

       And it was kind of motivating watching her eating her meals off the floor while I worked, made phone calls, read journals and did internet work, or watched porn.

       I  stayed at home more often though so that she wouldn't see how attatched I was to her. I hung out with Aaron.

       But the second things started to get a little routine I decided to plan a little surprise for Aaron.

       I started training her in bow pose and camel pose, which she could hold as long as I could. Either because she was young, strong and flexible, or because she was afraid to complain. In camel pose she was on her knees, bent back, her hands on her ankles and her head tilted all the way back, throat totally open and exposed. And in bow pose, well it was basically a back bend, but then with the straight leg variation her face became more accessable.

       They were great poses, but hard to hold. So I got to start doing more bondage, which was terrible because it was so hard to not sit on her face or play with her cunt. It was so hard not to stoop down and start sucking on her nipples, especially when they got all hard and puckered.They were so delicious looking and she was so vunerable.

       I bound her feet and ankles to a long rod, to keep them a certain distance apart. I had a padded stool of the right height and I would place that under her, so she could rest out on it, but it wasn't much of a rest, because as long as she was 'relaxed' on the stool I would whip her all up and down her torso. I wanted to just abuse her beautiful tits, but I still was trying to maintain the illusion of being a yoga teacher, not necessarially an unrepentant pervert.

       So I'd whip her breasts, but also her ribs and her stomache, all the high points of the pose. Then when she found the strength to hold her self up again she'd go back into the pose.

       Then we'd always have to do a series of boring poses to keep her from getting injured afterwards, which I didn't really care for, but I wanted her to be able to do these poses, not be crippled for life, so aftercare was necessary.

       With the camel pose we did basically the same thing, but she dictated when she came in and out of the pose and would go into 'Atone' or Child's pose to balance the pain of the back bend, but then she'd go back. While she was in Atone I would whip her back, much more mercilessly than I did her front. It wasn't because I was nicer when her breasts were exposed. It was worse. I hit her harder because I could see how much more painful it was. Her little spine and her ribs, her scapula. Her front was protected by her abdomen and the delicate layer of young fat, her breasts protected by their fullness, but her back was this raw thin layer of skin over bone. There was no protection so I took a great delight in whipping her and knowing she was not allowing herself to squirm.

       And then finally I got to start the real training. I bought a lot of carrots for her to juice and offer students, but I kept the biggest thickest longest ones.

       

       First I explained to her that her greatest hinderence at this time was her throat chakra and that it was like way too tight and that was why she needed to do camel pose and bow pose so much.

       

       She nodded and got this look on her face like "Oh yeah! Oh I get it that make total sense."

       And I tried very hard not to return of look of "What the fuck are you fucking retarded?"

       

       I told her how the carrot grows both up toward the sun, but it's real power is its root that goes deep into the ground. And I tried to make the carrot basically seem smarted than her, which might have been true.

       She listened carefully, which still surprised the hell out of me. How could any one listen to me talk about how fucking smart some vegetable was that had been yanked out of the ground? If it was so smart it'd be poisinous so it could stay alive.

       Then I explained how the carrot was the vegetable of the throat chakra, and that's why I'd been giving her carrot juice.

       And she looked like she totally bough that too.

       I told her she need to internalize the carrot.

       

       She nodded again, obviously having no idea what I was saying, because she closed her eyes, like she was trying to imagine a carrot.

       "Camel pose," I ordered.

       She lifted her butt off her heels to a standing kneel and slowly bent back in a graceful arch, until her hands were comfortable resting on her knees. She slowly let her head back, throat open.

       "Open your mouth to relax your jaw. Your mouth and your throat chakra are strongly linked. This is the gate to your throat chakra," I told her and watched her open mouth wide.

       "Lion's breath, and hold it out," I told her and she took a deep breath through her nose and then out through her mouth forcefully. Her tongue protruded out of her mouth.

       "Now maintain this position of your tongue. This is opening your throat chakra. Stay totally relaxed, breath through any tensions and feel your thorat opening."

       She was clearly obeying the best she could.

       And then I put the wide end of the carrot in her mouth and slid it along her tongue.

       "That's right. Totally relaxed and open," I coaxed sliding it slowly back toward her throat.

       It stopped and she gagged.

       "I'm just going to hold it right here so you can get used to it. Just relax. There is no reason to be disturbed by this. You are only resisting because your throat chakra is so tight, just relax."

       I waited a second until I saw she was breathing gently again.

       

       "Tongue way out, opening the way to oneness, that's right, relax," I said pushing it a little further.

       

       It went maybe a quarter of an inch before she gagged again.

       I worked with her coaxing her, but didn't get much further, but now we practiced every day.

       And every day she said when I had loosened up her "throat chakra" a little more "I'm eternally grateful Mahatma."

       And every day she said that I smiled to myself and though Aaron will be even more eternally grateful.

       I started kind of coaching Aaron too. I started doing it in my sari with him, so we'd kind of get in character. We'd laugh and stuff, but I was trying to get him to stop say "Fuck yeah," and "Oh yeah, I'm gonna tap that shit," and start just being quiet or say "Yes little one," which would make us crack up like crazy when we were really stoned. We were pretty much thinking he'd have to just not say anything to her because we might both lose it and totally laugh at the whole thing.

       But we just kept planning and trying to figure out how he could fuck her and enjoy himself, but not get us caught. It was fun making plans for the day.

       I noticed she was staying up late and not coming to bed the nights that I did stay at the studio and I peaked in the studio and saw her trying to take a huge carrot all the way into her throat in Camel pose, with one hand on the carrot and the other on her ankle. It was so cute how hard she was trying.

       The day finally came where she took a carrot all the way down her throat, relaxed and easy three times in a row. It was so exciting, but I wanted to make sure she could really do it.

       So I told her she need to be able to close her mouth around the carrot, because in life she wouldn't be walking around with her mouth open. So she needed to practice being open while closed. And that she needed to be gentle and not harm the carrot in anyway. She must be totally relaxed, but hold the carrot, carress the carrot with her mouth, show the carrot her love, but also feel the carrot's love for her.

       Really? I mean really?!?

       But whatever. How much weirder could that be than anything else I asked her to do in the last four months?

       So I guided the carrot in and out of her throat. I couldn't move very much, because it was still difficult for her to take the whole thing in her throat, but practice makes prefect. And I could see her mouth working on it.

       

       My pussy was totally soaked. I felt like I was fucking her with a giant dildo and watching her like it. She looked like such a whore, all contorted and bent back and willing taking this phallus down her throat and sucking it. Oh my god, it was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen. I was kind of glad I got to use her first. I mean, I really meant it to be a present for Aaron, but I was really getting off.

       And when I decided enough was enough, she said she was eternally grateful.

       God I loved this girl. Well not the girl really, but I loved her freakish devotion and her sweet little body.

       Anyway I "massaged her throat chakra open" with a carrot every day. It took over a month and we didn't do much other training that was exciting for me. Just the regular routines and classes.

       I was getting more work done than I'd ever gotten before. For one she was doing all the annoying stuff, like cooking, cleaning, mailings, phone calls, all the boring shit I hated to do she was doing, and doing it naked. It was great. I was getting some lecture offers at the university and the community college. That was the real money right there. The lecture circuit. I knew some of those fuckers were getting paid a fifteen hundred dollars a to come talk some shit and pretend they liked a bunch of sissy bitches for a few hours. That was the job I wanted.

       She was really happy in her journal. She really felt like she was doing well. She said she was finding great peace and joy in her chores and of knowing she was a service. She really felt like her throat chakra was opening. She was sure it was really helping.

       I thought girl, if you think your throat chakra is open, just wait til we get to work on your first and second chakra.

       So while I waited for Aaron to show up I prepared my little student.

       "I am bringing a great teacher from Africa to work with you. He is one of my great personal teachers and friends, and it is essential taht you obey him as you would obey me. I have never given anyone the honor of meeting Hammid Ali Samadi before, but you are so far along the path and really progressing that I believe you are open and wise enough to learn from him."

       "I am eternally grateful Mahatma."

       I don't think it even registered with her that it was a muslim name, so I figured I would explain.

       "All the great religions have wisdom that can bring us closer to God. Hammid is a mystic Sufi warrior. I have seen him on the last days of a forty day fast dancing and caring for the poor. He is very close to the Brahman and his god Allah."

       I put her on a wooden box about a foot high. The stool and the whip sat near by. After some surreptiious measurements I figured this was about the right height between her back bend and Aaron's standing a little wide legged. I was confident it was pretty accurate. I also left the wood raw because I wanted to see her knees red and sore after her trial.

       "Although I believe you are prepared to learn from him, I believe you will learn best if you are not distracted by the world of illusion," I said blindfolding her very throughly. I didn't really think it was necessary. It was pretty unlikely she was going to run into Aaron living off his baby-mama's welfare check or hanging out at the bar. But Aaron and I had both agreed that it just seemed really hot for her to not know who was in the room with her.

       I heard the door. I peeked and motioned excitedly for him to come in.

       He looked so hot. I hadn't really expected how hot it might be to see Aaron in some beautiful Muslim gown with a matching little round hat, but it really made him look so dignified and powerful, instead of some minor hustler and pot dealer.  I'd seen him in it before, but he was totally in character. He walked slowly, like he was perfectly relaxed and we weren't just in the fast food wrapper covered floor of the apartment. We were in the clean, beautiful studio. It was like night and day.

       "Padmalochana," he said soberly.

       

       It had taken me two weeks to be able to say my name.

       "Hammid," I answered.

       We bowed to each other. She couldn't see us, but we were playing the parts. I didn't know if Aaron could really pull this off but it really seemed like he could.

       "Your new student it ready," I told him.

       He walked over to her head. It looked like maybe she was a little too low, but he moved his legs apart and I realized it was really perfect.

       I slipped the stool under her.

       "The Sufi's do not have the same word for this process, but it is clear they have their own ways of discovering the openness of the chakras though they do not refer to the chakras," I explained.

       "In Muhammad's perfect tongue of Arabic this openness is unspeakable," he said. His voice seemed so deep and authoritative. And it was so perfect. He really just said absolutely nothing and made it sound like it was really important. It's unspeakable because you don't speak arabic you sly dog I thought, unable to look at him because I knew I'd smile. And if I smiled I'd laugh. And if I laughed the whole thing would be over. and maybe quite quite nasty for both Aaron and I.

       I suddenly realized I was really crossing the line now. I wasn't sure if I'd done anything super illegal yet. I mean, it was probably illegal to have lesbian sex with a possible minor, but I wasn't really sure if she was a minor, and I was an upstanding member of a rich liberal community. I could probably get away with it. But Aaron? Aaron had been to prison twice, had two kids and was living off his baby-mama. So she, instead of being a single mom with two kids with, was a single mom with three kids. No one would defend him. He couldn't even defend himself. He would be so incredibly fucked. And he was black. I mean come on. O.J. might be black, but he is also a very rich man. Enough money can make anyone white.

       He opened his robe and pulled out his cock. It looked so much bigger somehow. I guess because I was always in control of it. He was never impaling me on it or anything. I made sure it never hurt me, so it was just kind of normal in the dark in my bed room. But here hanging a few inches from my little toy's face it looked like a weapon more than an exciting phallus.

       I realized the carrot thing might not have been enough to get her ready for this.

       "Namaste," I said, singling to start.

       "Alhamdulallah," he said singling he was going to go for it.

       "Lion's breath," I told her.

       She breathed deep and then let out a breath, her tongue out and ready.

       And he began.

       I couldn't believe it. It was like the world's most wonderful show. I was so anxious to see what would happen. I mean, it was funny because I knew what was going to happen. He was going to cum down her throat. But it was so riveting. I couldn't pull my eyes away.

       Her back fell a little like she might collapse on to the stool already. Like she might give up.

       I was freaked out. I got ready to whip her, but I was terrified she was going to get up and be like "Come on. The carrot was one thing, but this is too far."

       But then she lifted herself again and I watched Aaron push four inches in.

       Her mouth sat there open.

       "Remember. You must have your mouth closed to the world and your throat open. You must become the duality," I said.

       And her mouth closed around it.

       Aaron started slowly moving his cock slowly in and out. His face looked at his victim with concentration.

       "Open your throat chakra, relax and allow Hammid to give you the discovery of your potential. He has a great gift to help others open what is locked, just embrace him and allow him to explore you," I encouraged.

       She seemed to relax while I spoke and I saw him push another two whole inches into her.

       He had a look on his face of total amazement. I could tell he was going to be a very happy Sufi.

       Her body quivered as it took in this huge thing.

       "That's right. You are so open. That is the way to unity," I told her.

       

       "No," said Aaron.

       I felt a wave of panic.

       "No, she is resisting still," he sounded so funny. Like some guy in a ninja movie.

       But I couldn't stop him with out worrying about blowing it.

       "This child has more potential than any student I've ever met, but she resists," he said seriously.

       I'm thinking: What the fuck dude? She's got at least six inches of cock in her. That's more than you can get in my cunt, and I know your wife isn't fucking you. Don't push it, just get your rocks off and get out of here.

       I saw him push but she shook again like she was going to gag, but trying not to.

       "Maybe she's not ready," I suggested.

       "I can see with my divine sight that this one is a great and powerful slave of Allah and his prophet Muhammad," he said looking into her face. He put his hands on each cheek and seemed to be massaging her jaw gently.

       It was amazing how the desire to stuff his whole cock down this girl's throat was transforming him into this tender and serious 'mystic'. Is this what it was like for my students? Is that why I believed all my shit? Because I'm standing here and I know Aaron wishes he could skull fuck this bitch senseless, but he's massaging her face and like practically about to tell her that he can see her aura and it is radiating a rainbow of healing unicorn vomit.

       But she stops quivering and her face relaxes a little more and he pushes another quarter of an inch.

       "Don't resist your own strength," 'Hammid' coaxes.

       For the first time I get the pleasure of just watching, so I let my self start stroking my cunt through my panties.

       Aaron looks up at me and my hand and smiles his impish little smile.

       "I need you to relax totally. I'm going to help you break through this, but it will not be easy," I thought I could see a look os skepticism on his face.

       What was he going to do?

       "Breath deeply and slowly and totally relax. I'm going to count to three and when I get to three I want you to be the most relaxed you have ever felt," he said gently.

       "One."

       

       Her whole body in its anguishing position seemed to slump a little, like it was settling into a comfortable chair.

       "Two."

       The muscles in her neck seemed to become soft and supple.

       

       "Three," he said and he thrust himself in another two full inches.

       Her body jerked violently. The small of her back lowered top the stool. I wondered if I should whip her, but I didn't want to fuck with Aaron's magic.

       But she lifted herself again feeling strengthened by her "power" to be open to a giant black cock.

       Aaron tilted his head kind of back and his face grimaced like it was maybe kind of painful for him.

       And then he started grinding.

       That's when I realized I could see his cock in her throat. I could see this huge bulge in her neck moving around as he slowly started fucking her.

       "You still have not quite succeeded, but I know you can. Maybe it won't be today, but I know that you can let go of your fear and your attatchements to worldly things. You can be a might servant of the Lord. You can do the work of the chosen children of God," he started off sounding like it was hard to talk, but then he started to sound a little like a baptist preacher or something.

       And then he kept pushing, but now just slowly, like he was massaging her throat open with his cock. I was pretty sure it must be hurting him, because it didn't look easy.

       But I was in no pain at all, and was just sopping wet and stroking my hole and my clit, trying not to let my sari make any noises that might give me away.

       

       Aaron held her face and started moving in and out and with every move in he got a little further.

       He was going to get all eleven inches in her pretty little throat. And she was going to take it like a pro.

       I started fingering my self and then rubbing my clit. I didn't dare move fast because I knew I'd just come immediately. This was by far the hottest thing I had ever seen in my life. Maybe it's just cause porn's not live, but it was just so fucking amazing.

       He tilted his head back as he pushed all the way to the hilt. His pelvis pressed against her face and I knew it was the first time in his life he'd ever managed to be all way inside a girl's mouth, let alone a delicious, young, beautiful, willing, white girl. It was a moment of beauty.

       "Now comes the most difficult part little one," he said like he was bracing himself.

       "I am going to massage your throat. It will help it to remain open. It is not a permanent solution. Only Allah can grant you the grace to be fully open at all times, but I can help you to stay open so that you know what it feels like to be open, so that you know what it feels like to be close to God," he promised.

       Shit he was a natural at this bullshit.

       And he started pumping. At first it was kind of gentle, but he just seemed to lose more and more control and his hands seemed to hold on to her head  tighter, like he was pulling her by her jaw and his eyes looked like he was drunk, half closed, his mouth half open, leaning back to look hat his cock moving an inch in and out of her mouth, and then watching his cock bulge in her little neck.

       He started biting his lip. He wanted to say "Fuck yeah bitch," I knew, but he said:

       "Yes little one. Feel yourself open," he didn't sounds so sober.

       It sounded like he was saying "I'm gonna fucking kill you with this dick bitch."

       She begin sweating profusely. It was killing her.

       Her body begin shaking, she could no longer stay relaxed and her muscles started giving way.

       I made myself cum, I just couldn't resist, but then I was hungry. I wanted to take a scrumptious bite of her tit. I wanted to finger bang her little pussy and make her cum now that I was done. it was infinitely more frustrating. I wished that I had waited.

       But then it happened. She collapsed onto the stool.

       So I took my opportunity to start whipping her body. If I couldn't molest her I could at least get her endorphins going.

       Aaron didn't even really seem to notice that I was abusing her flesh with my rod. I expanded my normal range to include the tops of her thighs and across her pelvis, occasionally, "accidentally" hitting her pubic bone.

       Her eyes were watering freely and her body dripped with sweat. I could tell she had completely given up. She wasn't even going to try to dothe back bend, this was plenty of torment, she no longer had the will to abuse herself.

       And then suddenly Aaron erupted in a near shout:

       "Yes! Yes! Do you feel that little one? That is Allah! Allah loves you, Allah bestows his grace. Accept his gift little one, accept his gift!"

       I could see on his face that he was cumming and I beat her a little faster and a little harder, like I couldn't help it, like I wanted to get as many cruel stokes in as a I could before I had to stop.

       "Relax, let it go now, let it do it's work from inside of you," I stopped beating her and tried to get her calm again.

       Aaron slid his wet, long, soft cock out of her and tucked it in his boxers.

       He smiled and waved and walked out quietly.

       "Atone" I told her.

       And she slowly curled up into the soft form of child's pose.

       "And now gently Cat and Cow poses, back and forth, very gentle into the Cow pose and very strong and with intention into the Cat pose," I said helping her stretch her poor aching back. I guided her through some gentle poses and breathing.

       "Forgive me Mahatma," she said.

       I couldn't figure out what she meant, but I excused her and told her to stretch gently, sleep soundly and write throughly.

       When she wrote in her journal  I was pretty suprised by her experience. She said she realized how proud she had been, that she had been so proud that she was doing my orders and following the rules, but that she realized that Hammid was right. She was a servant. She was no Muhammad or Mahatma. And she never would be, but that she was given the gift of being a great servant and that she didn't want to become some great powerful enlightened person anymore. She just wanted to serve me and be my disciple forever.

       At first I was like, shit. Now I have like a kid or something.

       But then I realized, no, it was way better, because she really helped a lot. I thought she was going to be this huge drain on my finances, but instead I was not only making more money, but I was spending less. I wasn't going to the bar or buying pot or video games or anything, because I was too busy playing with my little toy. And Aaron? Well Aaron was like a million times hotter with his cute Islam outfit on, being all authoritative and smart instead of a stupid, vulgar stoner.

       And I was like, oh, this is like a dream come true.

       I called Aaron. He said he had an idea and he wanted to see if I was down. I assumed it was probably about fucking her, but I thought she probably needed some time off on that front and she probably needed to be built back up a little before we broke her back down.

       But then he said something I wasn't expecting.

       "Could I have some kind of Sufi workshop or something at your studio?"

       

       "What would you do at a Sufi workshop? You know your not gonna just have a bunch of girls deep throating you all weekend? You'd just be hanging out with a bunch of sissies telling them they're powerful spiritual warriors all weekend," I said taking a little toke of the pipe.

       "No, shit, I ain't stupid. Naw. I been reading shit. A nigger can read you know," he said kind of puffing himself up.

       "Shit! I know, sorry. I just didn't know if you knew how much it sucks pretending all the time."

       "Girl, I know you makin' bank off them fools and it ain't even illegal."

       "Well except," I said thinking of our little toy.

       "Shit that girl's twenty. You just nasty like that. You want to think that, that's why you don't ask."

       "How do you know she's twenty?"

       

       "I went through her purse, how else?" he said kind of proud of himself. "Anyway, I'm reading this shit and people go to these workshop and just fucking spin around to some lame ass music until they think they see God."

       "There might be more to it than that," I thought.

       "Yeah there's more to it than that. Peeps be paying t-ree hundred a weekend to go spin around. Even if I only could get ten dumb asses to do that a month that'd be as good as a good month hustling. It ain't as good as selling crack, but crack heads mad annoying. Your whack fucking hippies don't hold a candle."

       I laughed about the crack heads and the hippies.

       "Sure I'll introduce you to my advanced class next week," I said.

       "Shit, if I can start making as much money as you I can pay my baby-mama and move the hell out," he imagined.

       "Okay, we'll try it."

       And that's pretty much my happy ending.

       Aaron got his own apartment, which our little friend regularly provided maid service for. We opened every one of her chakras as wide as we could and she enjoyed the punishment and we enjoyed punishing her. We fucked her up and down from every end in every hole and she thanked us for it. Aaron recruited other little playmates occasionally, but always just to help them learn and grow. We were just such a happy little family we didn't really need anyone else. And every one from the outside saw us as totally multi-cultural beacons for the soft left. It was kind of the perfect balance between work and play for all of us.

       The End