She Was Beautiful

by lostboy

2001 lostboy: please, no re-posting without permission

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 water-colour, 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 dead bolt, 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 ecstasy 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 muscle-bound, 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.

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 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.

"You are a woman of uncommon insight, one in a million! You must have magic in your past; you are certainly a prize!"

For the first time, Helen raised her head and looked over the shop at all the other statues.

"They were all people, weren't they? 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, ready to escape. She knew that she was in mortal danger, but when she saw the street outside, she was assailed by a storm of emotions: anger, disappointment, depression, hate, jealousy, and a certain knowledge of the futility of existence. 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? Why should she make her life miserable?

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 outside learns the futility of mortality, despite the brave face they may put upon it."

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

The barrage of feelings that were assaulting Helen immediately stopped. 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, and I know you love my strength."

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.

Eventually, Helen had no reasons left to fight, and she dropped her struggle without regret, without feeling anything in particular. She raised her eyes, and hoped to see the woman she had come to visit.

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.

"Now, Helen, don't be concerned; just love me, and I will love you". Euryale carefully gathered her skirt and raised it above her waist: it was a simple movement that left her legs naked, and her sex hidden but 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 Euryale, being a woman, also had desires. 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. Suddenly, these thighs locked around Helen's head, and Euryale flipped them both over: she was now kneeling over Helen, and she raised her sex above Helen's face.

"Drink me"

Helen, drunk on excitement, love and desire, lifted her head to catch 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, and Helen gladly helped her lover reach inside her to find, draw, and swallow every delicate morsel.

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 know it when two people are connected. You are a statue now, you know you cannot hold her as a man. Just let go, 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. In an ultimate orgasm, he gave his very all to the devouring mouth that he loved and hated. His consciousness faded and his eyes dim, and Jiri let himself settle to his centre, where the boiling heat behind his penis was slowing being drawn out, to leave cold, white stone in its place.

Euryale sighed, and let Jiri spend himself within her mouth.

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

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.

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. As her own transformation began, Jiri's eyes faded away, and the supreme confidence of Euryale's returned.


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