Before he could stir, he sensed the hardened tip shudder. Again a grasp took his nipple and worked it with measured spasms, until the room's austere silence was cut by her sharp intake of breath, timed to match a single insistent contraction that seemed to envelope the whole of his breast. He felt her seize his hands in her own, and although he could see nothing, in his mind there grew a vision of her eyes at that moment. Then there came a sound, partially stifled in her throat, but not before it had found the gilded walls and returned, annealed to a glassy relic of release.
He felt her slowly withdraw, but then her mouth took his breast, till it had drawn away the musk. At last, perhaps to signify repletion, she lightly brushed his lips with the tip of her tongue.
"You have pleased me." Her voice was quiet now, almost a whisper. "Now we will please each other."
A hand worked at his loins, methodically applying a viscous, harshly scented oil.
"Would you could see with my eyes. The lingam of the fabled Shiva was never garlanded such as this, or anointed so lovingly."
Then her voice turned harsh as she spoke short staccato commands in an unknown tongue. Bangles sounded and silk rustled as the room emptied. Now he caught a new scent, the harsh smell he remembered from the box the governor had offered.
"I will tell you my secret." She whispered close to his ear. "There is no more exciting way to experience the ecstasy of love than with affion, the essence of the poppy. But I have a way to receive it no one else knows. It is like the burst of a lightning stroke. Its power envelopes the senses."
He felt her smooth a thick paste along the sides of his phallus, and sensed a tingle as she clasped it carefully with both hands. Again she moved above him, but curiously there was no touch of her body. Only the presence of her scent.
A tight ring seemed to circle his flesh, and he felt the weight of her rounded buttocks slide down onto his thighs.
He startled upward in shock and disbelief. Never will I . . .