She was beautiful.
Jiri was at a party, and saw her across the room. He was here to meet another girl, but she had stood him up. He was angry at the human race, one half in particular, and he intended to drink himself into a stupor.
When he first saw her, he put down his drink. He could do nothing but stare. She was laughing with her friends, throwing back her beautiful black mane of hair. Her hand was behind her lover's neck, delicately kneading and stroking. Jiri could see the strength in that hand, and with a suddenness that surprised him, he felt a flash of desire to feel that strength, all of it.
Without any warning, she turned her gaze to him, and, for a moment he felt completely open to her. Her look conveyed comfortable familiarity, a shared-but not-quite-understood joke, and a terrible possessiveness, all together and in the space of a few seconds. The intensity of that gaze took his breath away, then she pursed her lips to blow him a gentle kiss. Without a word, and before her companions noticed her momentary lack of attention, she turned away again to continue her conversation and her fingers' gentle dance.
Jiri knew that this encounter would colour his life. Whether she ever spoke to him or not, he knew that those brief seconds had given him a glimpse of something both majestic and magical. He had never felt this way about another human being, and was somewhat afraid.
He considered running even then, to go home to his single room and to lie wakefully in the light, trying to forget the power of this woman's eyes, mouth and lips. He was too weak to go, and too weak to move towards her. He simply turned around, and for the first time tried to distract himself with the other guests. The black mood in his heart had lifted, and he found himself able to join a conversation with some young university students, and was beginning to enjoy himself again.
By the end of the party, only a handful of guests remained. He was ensconced in the kitchen talking to a pretty young thing whose name was Helen. They were earnestly agreeing about the perils of globalization, and a sort of intimacy was developing between them.
Suddenly, Helen, startled, looked up behind Jiri and went quiet. She shook her head as if her vision was blurring, and, a little apologetically, said
"Sorry, Jiri, but I've got to go".
She left quickly without another word.
Before he could turn to see her depart, he felt a gentle touch on his neck that he both welcomed and somehow expected. Those strong fingers were soon kneading and caressing his own neck, and he lowered his head as a strange lassitude and warmth spread across his shoulders and down his spine. For several minutes, he let those fingers work their magic, and he closed his eyes and let them drain all the tension from his frame.
"What is your name, my love?" she asked
"Jiri" was all I could say.
"Jiri, my name is Euryale. Come visit me some day," she said, "I am a sculptor, and would like to make a statue of you."
She pressed a card into his hand, and the gentle pressure on his neck ceased. By the time Jiri had collected his wits and turned around, she was gone.
Jiri would have liked to visit her the very next day, but his work commitments would not permit it.
Instead of the excitement of her invitation diminishing, however, he found it increased day by day. When Friday finally rolled around, he stayed until midnight working on his project and tying up loose ends.
He made his way out to her studio early on Saturday morning. It was devilishly hard to find, being in a tiny street in a part of town that he would have considered most imprudent for such a beautiful young woman to walk around in.
When Jiri found the studio closed, he was devastated. He knocked repeatedly on the glass doors, and peered within. He beheld a fascinating sight, and for a short time he stopped his knocking. Euryale's studio contained about a dozen statues of various people, and all were portrayed naked. From each male statue jutted an engorged penis, carved with meticulous precision. All their muscles appeared to be straining, as if against some unseen but mighty force. Every female statue was posed with their pussy open and accessible, as if some invisible implement were still embedded within, and their arms around some unseen lover. Without exception, every statue was represented with its face carved in the terrible rictus of sexual ecstasy.
One statue, near the front, Jiri recognized. It was a representation of the man, Euryale's lover, that he had seen at the party. Strangely, he seemed to be carved from stone of a different hue to those of the others. Where all the other statues appeared grey and dull, this statue appeared carved in pink marble. The eyes were green, as if coloured with watercolour, and the lips were of a darker tone, with some of the colour of blood. The colouring on the penis was remarkable; the carved veins in the representation of the penis were cleverly matched with coloured veins in the marble, giving an extremely life-like appearance.
Finally, his knocking had some effect. He heard a door to the rear of the shop opening, and his heart leapt as he saw the graceful silhouette of Euryale making her way to the front of the shop.
"All right, all right, there's no need to wake the neighbours!" smiled Euryale as she unlocked and opened the door. "Come in, and I'll show you around before we start."
As he walked in, he surveyed the studio. There was a full-length mirror on one wall, from which the eyes of all the statues peered out at him. Seeing some rumpled cushions in the rear of the studio, he decided that Euryale must work day and night to produce such intricate and life-like carvings.
She took him in, and, leading him by the hand, showed him each of the statues. Jiri was amazed at the variety of people that Euryale had convinced to pose for her, and she seemed quite proprietorial with each statue, as if she were introducing a friend and not describing a work of art. As she led him around, her hand slipped around his middle finger and, gently at first, her fingers tightened and squeezed.
That gentleness soon gave way to urgency, and Euryale's thumb was soon applying pressure to the base of his finger. Jiri could hardly believe the feelings that this engendered, as if Euryale's hand were fucking his finger and drawing him out. All this time, Euryale's sweet, melodious voice was leading him from statue to statue, and her other hand began caressing and fondling each statue that they passed.
Soon they reached the front of the shop again, and Euryale briefly released Jiri before drawing the curtains and locking the door with a deadbolt, which slid into place convincingly.
"Now, just stand there and you will see what I intend to do with you!" said Euryale with a sly grin. "I can demonstrate with my latest work."
Euryale quietly inspected the image of her party lover, gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, then knelt down in front of him. Opening her mouth, she slid down over the engorged stone penis. Closing her eyes and sighing, she slowly bobbed her lips up to the stony tip, and then down to the curly base of the statue, again and again. Jiri could do nothing but watch in sensual apprehension, and could see her tongue working on the marble, every now and again her throat swallowing, as if she were drawing some vital essence from the statue, her arms wrapped around the stone buttocks, stroking and pressing the cold stone.
Eventually, some closure seemed to be reached, and Euryale sighed in fulfilment. She stayed with the statue a few minutes more, her mouth still enfolding the hard stone.
As Jiri watched this strange ritual, his ardour and excitement increased by leaps and bounds. Soon after Euryale had finished with the statue, however, another feeling began to grow, beginning as a strange uneasiness but soon growing into so much more.
The uneasiness started when he noticed that the lover's statue had lost its colour, and was now the same grey, dull hue as all the other statues in the studio. Initially, he could discount this as a trick of the light: hadn't the studio's curtains been open when he first entered, and couldn't their closing have blocked the sun's rays, which gave the stone its colour?
However, his next impression could not be so easily discounted: he realized that he could not bend or feel his middle finger. Rubbing it with his other hand, increasingly fascinated and appalled, he could not restore any feeling, nor could he bend the joints. Eventually, feeling returned to his finger, although he could still not bend it.
Jiri was surprised by a moment of transformation. He felt a small bolt of ecstacy stabbing at his insides, and he held his breath until it subsided.
His finger was now hewn from the pink marble of the lover's statue.
As Euryale finished with her lover, as Jiri now knew the statue to be, she turned around and gazed at Jiri's discomfiture with a look of amused excitement.
"I see that you have found out my technique", she said, "but I see also that you are not entirely displeased." Her gazed shifted to Jiri's crotch, which had betrayed him, to the extent of a damp spot being visible at the front of his pants.
She smiled at him, and crept towards him. Reaching him, her arms sidled around his neck and she drew him in to a deep kiss. Her tongue danced in his mouth, and he closed his eyes. In his excitement, he could almost neglect his likely fate.
Eventually, she pulled away, and, opening his eyes again, he could see her eyes shining brightly with hunger, lust, and the certain knowledge of possession. Her hands reached down, and, without her steady gaze leaving his face for a moment, she gently undid his belt and pushed him down onto the hard floor. She pulled off his jeans, and, methodically, stripped him of his shirt. Crouching above him, she smiled, and, still gazing at his face, used her finger to trace his brow ridge, nose and jaw.
Gracefully, she extricated herself from his limbs, and lay herself down on the cushions at the rear of the studio. Putting her hands behind her back, she raised her hips.
Opening her legs, her beautiful sex was glistening. The surrounding lips were gently pulsing, as if to hypnotize him, and the darkness at her centre seemed absolute.
In terror, he stared at the means of his inevitable transformation.
"Jiri, calm yourself. I know you love me, and I love you. I have chosen you, chosen you to remain with me for eternity. Look at me, Jiri, look at me and love me. I am your heaven, your nirvana, your release from your mortal existence. Gaze into me, for I hold everything that you will ever desire. You can only find it deep inside of me"
Jiri gazed at Euryale, gazed at the pulsing of her opening, and his skin prickled as he considered the price he was asked to pay, and the pleasure that was promised in turn. Dark glistenings of moisture appeared from her depths, and that darkness held him.
Eventually, in a whisper, she said
"Come, Jiri. Now you may give yourself to me."
As if in a dream, Jiri pulled himself upright and crawled over to her. He straddled her, and, supporting himself on his elbows, gazed down at her beautiful face. Her smile transformed into a radiant expression of kindness and generosity, and she placed her hands on his buttocks, and gently guided him to her. With tears streaming down, he lowered his face into the warmth of her breasts and sank into her ready depths.
Jiri commenced his slow pumping, and he could feel her muscles beckoning, drawing from him, seducing him, feeding from him. Expending his life's essence into her, he found he could no longer move.
Taking up his failed rhythm, her pussy continued to move, clamp, draw, and kiss, his forever-erect love remaining within her while she sighed and shuddered with fulfilment, all the while drawing from him. She closed her eyes and screamed her desire, punching his inanimate form and smacking his face, with her hands clawing and grabbing him, forcing him deeper inside her.
As Euryale's desire became more and more greedy, Jiri found himself caring less and less. Her abuse of his body became the lightest of taps on his unfeeling flesh, and his penis inside her body could have been warm water for all he knew.
Soon Euryale, with her hair matted and sweaty, pulled herself out from under him. With impressive strength, she lifted Jiri upright and commenced posing him. Jiri's limbs, although immobile to his commands, would stay where Euryale placed them.
Euryale was well satisfied. Jiri was not musclebound, but had pleasing and delicate features, not quite effeminate. She had posed him in an attitude of supplication, with his head up as if appealing for help from above. Standing behind him, she wrapped her fingers around his penis and examined his face in the mirror.
By now, all feeling had left Jiri's body, and even his terror had fled. He had some time to reflect on the manner of Euryale's theft of his body. Was his lost life wasted? Was he now forever under the control of this woman? Would she be a merciful mistress?
Only the strength of his love for her remained, and it continued to burn and grow inside him as the minutes passed. Euryale continued to gaze at him, as if expecting some sign.
It started like a spark, coursing up and down his spine. His penis twitched at the shock of the return of feeling, and Euryale felt the expected commencement of her magic, and she smiled.
A strange feeling of expectation flowed over his body: every muscle began to stretch, and a sensation of great velocity, more like running than falling, confused Jiri, who was as still as ever. The feeling grew, until Jiri felt quite exhausted as if he had been sprinting for his life. Soon this feeling passed, leaving his muscles taut and well-defined.
A great feeling of lassitude then supervened, and the burn in Jiri's muscles became a comfortable fatigue. The strange excitation that had accompanied his finger's transformation began to return, but instead of occurring in an instant, this time it began as a small pinprick of joy within his groin. This feeling of ecstasy quietened all his thoughts, and began to build. Tendrils of liquid warmth began to seep through all his veins and arteries, before they started to strike in and dissolve his bones and strike through his skin.
For the first time since movement had been taken from him, Jiri tried to move. He struggled desperately against the bonds of magic that were constraining him, and tried to scream. His eyes locked onto Euryale's in the mirror, and he saw her look of triumph. As he struggled, he began to welcome the opposition of the magical bonds. Each time he pushed against them, a wave of desire for release would roll across him. The strength and intensity of each wave kept increasing until, when he thought his body would break into a thousand pieces, the final wave crashed over him. Its power did not cease, and he watched as under Euryale's hand his penis began to change to stony marble. As the petrification passed over his body, the internal struggle was quieted and only the cloying ecstasy was left behind. As the petrification reached his face, his consciousness fled.
When consciousness returned, Jiri could see himself in the wall mirror, posed and beautiful. His skin did not yet have the grey, dull tone of the other statues, yet he still could not move. Jiri stood in that studio for several days, the constant feeling nourishing him and carrying him through time, content in Euryale's love, relishing the lappings of ecstasy that still consumed him, without any thought of protest.
One morning, however, he was disturbed by a frantic knocking at the front door. He looked out to see the frantic face of a young woman. She peered in, her hands shading her face, hoping to see inside.
The young woman was Helen, the young student that had left the party so mysteriously. He now guessed that Euryale had not been idle, and Helen would be trying to catch a glimpse of the terrible creature who had captured her emotions. At one point she smiled as her gaze alighted on Jiri's frozen form, but the expression on her face, rather than indicating the recognition of a welcome acquaintance, indicated only the appreciation of a clever artifice.
He sensed, rather than heard, Euryale's exclamation of joy from the back of the studio.
As he saw Euryale lead Helen into the studio, he surrendered. As he watched her being introduced to each statue in turn, he was now certain of the utter fulfilment that would soon consume him.
As she entered, Helen examined the statue of Jiri. She had not been drunk at the party, but for some reason she had not even thought about Jiri since meeting Euryale; now that she beheld him again, she felt a little embarrassed, for she was sure that something had been starting between them. Euryale, of course, would eclipse anyone, and equally seemed able to command anyone; she still did not know how she had known that Euryale wanted her to go home at the end of the party, and why she had so meekly submitted.
On the occasions since, when she had had the pleasure to converse, Euryale had said that Jiri was a "lost soul", who needed someone to centre him. Helen was looking forward to renewing the acquaintance, and walked over to the statue to compare it with her memory.