She was Beautiful © 2001 lostboy Please, no reposting without permission sadlittlelostboy@hotmail.com http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/lostboy/www/

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.

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 move his middle finger. Rubbing it
with his other hand, increasingly fascinated and appalled, soon he
could not even bend the joints, and a strange numbness had taken 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, his hardness jutting painfully.

She smiled, and pirouetted towards him. Reaching him, her arms
sidled around his neck and she gently 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.

As she pulled away, he gazed into her eyes; they were captivating,
shining brightly with hunger, and with lust, but also with something
else: 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 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 sex was glistening. It was beautiful. 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 will find it, you
must 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.
Time ceased to have meaning, and he ached and sweated to
keep feeding her, to feel himself within her, to give her everything.
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 still 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, 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, the numbness had taken 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. Would she be a merciful mistress? What could be merciful
after all of this?

Only the strength of his love for her remained, and it continued to
burn and grow inside him. 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
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 transformation 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, content in Euryale's love, the constant
feeling nourishing him and carrying him through time, relishing the
lappings of ecstasy that still consumed him.

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, who had left the party so mysteriously.
He guessed that Euryale had not been idle, and had captured Helen's
emotions as she had captured his.

Helen would be trying to catch a glimpse of the terrible creature.
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 felt deflated, perhaps
even a little jealous. 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 Jiri. She had hardly even thought about
Jiri since meeting Euryale; now that she beheld him again, she felt a
little embarrassed, for she was sure that there had been some intimacy
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.

Aside from the hardness of the stone, the statue really was her memory
of Jiri, and her tender feelings towards him began to return.

Euryale came to stand beside her, and, with an easy familiarity, lay
her cool hand on Helen's back, slipping up from beneath Helen's blouse.

"I know you two were close; why don't you touch him? I've only
recently completed this work, and I'm sure I've managed an accurate
depiction. Go on, when you meet your friend again, you'll be so much
closer having seen ... and felt ... his likeness"

Helen reached up and traced Jiri's face. It really was a most
remarkable likeness. Letting her hands trace down his chest, she
marvelled at the delicacy of the carving.

"It's beautiful," was all she could say, turning to Euryale.

"Go on," Euryale continued, taking one of Helen's hands and
surrounding it. Euryale had her take hold of Jiri's penis, and at
first she blushed and giggled a little bit. Then, however, she became
more serious.

"You can feel him, can't you?" asked Euryale

Helen nodded... for some unaccountable reason, she simply knew that
Jiri and the statue were one and the same, and that Jiri was trapped
within.

"Well, well, you are certainly a prize!" Euryale said admiringly.

"You are a woman of uncommon insight, one in a million.
"You must have some magic in your past; maybe we are sisters!"

For the first time, Helen raised her head and looked over the shop at
all the other statues. The terrible reality of the studio had finally
hatched.

"They were all people, weren't they? You transformed them
all, enslaved them all.  How could you do something like this?"

Helen's eyes flashed her anger and she whirled away from Euryale.
Storming to the door, she wrenched it open. She knew that she was
in mortal danger, she had to escape, but when she saw the street outside
was assailed by a storm of emotions: anger, disappointment,
depression, hate, jealousy, and a pit of black despair.  Her existence
outside the shop seemed a certain knowledge of futility.
She bent over and retched dryly with the blackness of the
feelings. She could not get even one foot out of the door.

Sternly, Euryale admonished: "These feelings will be yours, Helen, if
you leave. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but if you leave, you will
experience them all in abundance. Eventually, you will die, and the
world will soon be as if you had never lived."

Helen turned, and directed some of the hate at Euryale: how could she
do this to her, make her life seem like dust, take away everything
dear to her?

Euryale's gaze softened. "I am not cursing you Helen, although you
might think it. I am simply showing you the future. There will be
happy moments, of course, but they will be only fleeting. In time,
everybody learns the futility of mortality.  You may put on a brave
face, but the coldness of the grave is your only future."

Reaching past Helen, Euryale closed the door, drew the curtains, and
locked the studio.

The barrage of feelings that were assaulting Helen immediately
ceased. She fell to her knees, and tears began to form in her eyes.
Whether they were sadness or relief, she could not tell, but she could
do nothing to prevent herself sobbing.

Euryale walked in front of Helen and began to massage her temples.

"There, dear, it is gone now. Your future is with me now, don't
concern yourself with heartache and disappointment."

Helen struggled mightily to clear her thoughts: at some level, she
knew that her existence had some meaning, she knew that there were so
many things in life worth living for, and worth giving.

"Helen, you are a good person, and you are right to think of all you
can give to the world. But you also know that life is nothing without
love, and I am all the love you will ever need. Look at me and you
will know it to be so."

Helen felt that she was swimming against a whirlpool; she closed her
eyes, and cast her face down at the floor, and put her hands against
her ears.

"Helen, you really are remarkable!" exclaimed Euryale, with real
admiration in her voice. "But your strength is no match for mine.
Love my strength, Helen, love me.  I know you want to love
me."

Helen knew it to be true: of course she loved Euryale, it had been
love at first sight. She imagined that every statue in this studio
loved Euryale, and all had gladly given their souls to be with her, to
become part of her. But for some reason, Helen struggled to hang on
to her independence, and tried to retrieve some joy in any thoughts
other than those of Euryale.

"Helen, I am only a woman. You must believe me, I have chosen you,
and I love you. Please, just open your eyes, and see the truth in
what I say. I did not trick you when you tried to leave; the
desolation you felt outside, it was real! Do not turn your face away
from love, your life would be too short."

Helen fought, but Euryale was strong. Her feelings of tenderness and
love were growing, and her stubbornness and will to fight were
changing: they were still strong, but Helen was losing sight of any
rational reason for keeping them.  One by one, her reasons to
fight with Euryale dropped away, and were replaced by pleasant
feelings of anticipation.  Helen raised her eyes.

Euryale was sitting down, cross-legged. Her face was open, and
simple, and Helen knew that she understood all her troubles, all her
insecurities, all her desires, and her heart overflowed. She gazed
into those green, green eyes, and knew that she had found true love.

"Helen, don't be concerned; just love me, as I love you".
Euryale carefully gathered her skirt and raised it above her waist: it
was a simple movement that left her legs naked and available.

Helen was lost; she only wanted to please this woman, her love, so she
moved over to her, embraced her, and kissed her. That kiss began as a
chaste kiss of devotion, but Helen could feel her warmth, and could
smell her desire. She wrapped her arms around Euryale's thighs, and
brought her mouth towards her sex. Euryale put her hands to Helens
head, and began to guide her closer and closer.

Helen had never known such wet, silky, smoothness: she felt inexpert
and awkward, but tried to use her tongue to give pleasure. Euryale
sighed and relaxed, and Helen, heartened, began to love her longer and
more deeply.

Soon, Euryale began to press back against the rhythm of Helen's
strokes, and Helen had to hang on to her thighs with increasing
strength.

"Drink me"

Helen, drunk on excitement, love and desire, suckled and licked,
ready for anything that her lover might give her. When it came, she gladly
lapped up the strangely perfumed liquid, and wrapped her lips around
the apparent source, which seemed to be Euryale's clitoris. As she
suckled and swallowed, Helen felt more and more tired. Eventually,
she could not support her head, and lay down on the floor.

The whirl of emotions in her head did not abate as Euryale moved down
to face Helen's pussy, and Helen was capable of nothing except
sensation, the sensation of Euryale's mouth and tongue. For some
time, Helen wallowed in the pleasantness of their caress, but the
simple stroking soon became a drawing, and Helen's heart beat quickly
as she realized that the ritual of her transformation was commencing.

Euryale was clever; she knew that what she wanted must be freely
given, and her mouth and lips made it clear to Helen what she wanted
from her. Euryale gave back to Helen full measure of unearthly
pleasure for each mouthful that she took. Helen's natural strength
made progress slow, but Euryale was an expert, and her pleasure was of
much of the mind and soul as of the body. Helen gladly helped her
lover reach inside her to find, draw, and swallow every delicate morsel,
and both shivered with ecstasy time and again.

When Euryale had finished, Helen was without any will to move, and
could only bask in the glow of her love, and feel the warmth and
moisture of her nether lips and passages, through which so much of
herself had been drawn. She knew that she still had a great passion
within herself, however, and she wanted to find its outlet.

Her eyes wandered around the studio, and soon fell on the form of poor
Jiri. The sight of his stone penis held her, and she knew that she
wanted to be filled, to be opened, to be loved so deeply.

Euryale smiled; "You shall have your Jiri, but let me take my part
first"

As with her last lover, Euryale moved in front of Jiri. She him a
gentle kiss, and slowly covered his penis with her lips. Again,
Euryale drew and suckled and caressed with her tongue. Helen could
feel the struggle taking place within Jiri's immobile frame.

Despite his love for Euryale and his desire to become at one with her,
Jiri did not want to lose his hold on his body, which after all had
been Jiri for so long.

Euryale required all her concentration to give Jiri the full measure
of her pleasure. With each crashing orgasm, Jiri's grip weakened
slightly, and Euryale's tendrils of pleasure would, ever so gently,
displace him and ask for yet more. She was gradually disconnecting
him from his body: first his fingers and toes, now his wrists and
ankles, now his limbs...

Helen discovered that, although all power of movement had been taken
from her, her mind could wander as it pleased. She could feel Jiri's
desperate struggle, and she found her earlier regard for him being
magnified. Her passion flared brighter than ever, and she found that
she wanted him, wanted him insider her, wanted to love him as a man,
to hold him and feel his struggle within herself.

Jiri looked beyond Euryale's beautiful head bobbing up and down,
hoping for solace, any form of solace, and saw Helen, lying, unmoving.
He knew that she wanted him, and for a moment imagined the life and
love that could have been theirs, had Euryale not stolen them from it.

Euryale relented for a short time. She moved up to his ear, and whispered:

"I am not heartless, Jiri. I love you both, you are my children.
You are a statue now, you know you cannot hold her as a
man. Let yourself go, give yourself to me, and she shall be yours."

Her mouth returned to Jiri's cock, and swallowed it again. Her tongue
swirled around its base, and she drew out again. Jiri looked at
Helen, and let himself go. He gave his very
all to the devouring mouth that he loved and hated. His consciousness
faded and his eyes dimmed, and Jiri let himself settle to his centre,
behind his penis, where all was boiling heat.

Jiri spent himself in an ultimate orgasm inside Euryale's devouring
mouth, his soul erupting in great spurts from his stone penis.
Euryale sighed with satisfaction, and swallowed, leaving his body
a white stone, cold and hard.

Tears were pouring from Helen's eyes: not only had Jiri lost his
mighty struggle, but Helen felt that she had contributed in no small
way to his loss.

Euryale moved into the back room, and returned with a hammer and
chisel. With one blow, she detached Jiri's penis from his statue.

Walking over to Helen, Euryale kissed her on the lips, and gazed into
her eyes. Helen was surprised to find that soon, Jiri's eyes looked
back from Euryale's face. Euryale placed Helen's immobile arms around
herself, then settled between her thighs. Reaching down, she placed
the stone penis against Helen's lips.

The desire that Helen had felt after Euryale had fed from her the
first time returned in full force, and she wanted Jiri inside her.
Euryale smiled, and Jiri smiled, and Euryale settled herself behind
the smooth stone cock and commenced to drive it in.

Helen was in heaven: she had two lovers astride her, and she was being
split asunder by their love. As the stone penis slid home, her orgasm
was intense, and her walls rippled against Jiri's hardness. As she
gazed into Jiri's eyes, she detected a certain sadness. Jiri's eyes faded
away, and the supreme confidence of Euryale's returned.

fin