An adult stories – Close Encounters Of The “Nude” Kind by Rodofrohit,Rodofrohit “I wasn’t really naked. I simply didn’t have any clothes on.”
Josephine Baker
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PROLOGUE —
“God! This deadline is driving me nuts!” Pallavi exclaimed in exasperation. “It has to be the craziest assignment of my life so far!”
We were catching up with each other after a long time in the cosy comfort of my living room. Pallavi is my best friend. We have been BFF since our college days and remain best buddies till this day. If there is one person in this world whose advice I value the most, it would be her.
Me: What assignment?
Pallavi: You wouldn’t believe it! A history of nudism in India — that’s the assignment.
Pallavi is a freelance journalist. I have watched her embark on some really insane projects in the past. But this one sounded really wacky.
Me: Nudism in India! What kind of a project is that?
Pallavi: It’s all because of the National Nude Day coming up in July. The magazine wants to do a historical research piece to deconstruct the myth that nudism originated in the West. And they hung this project around my neck like an albatross.
Me: National Nude Day? In India? I wasn’t aware of any such thing.
Pallavi: OMG! You must be the most ignorant educated person on Earth. National Nude Day is celebrated in the U.S, not in India, you moron!
Me: Okay… I wasn’t aware of that. Why would they celebrate such a thing?
Pallavi: Hmm… time for some history lesson, Payal. Nudism spread through Europe after World War 1 and became established in North America during the 1930s. In fact, The American League of Physical Culture was founded in 1929 to promote nudism.
Me: Wow! ‘Promote’ nudity? How wacky!
Pallavi: Yes, but that’s not my assignment. You see, there is this misconception in Western nations that nudism originated there — in ancient Greece and post WW1 Europe, to be precise. My task is to deconstruct this myth with the aid of historical research.
Me: Pardon my ignorance, but if it didn’t originate in the West, where did it come from?
Pallavi: The birthplace of Kama Sutra: Ancient India, where else?
Me (laughing): Ancient India? Ha ha! You must be out of your mind. Indians are prudes, and ancient Indians were even more so. We are one of the most conservative societies in the entire world…
Pallavi (interrupting me abruptly): But not in ancient and medieval times. You see, this misconception that India has always been puritanical and uptight is prevalent not just among the Western population but among the Indian community too. We have lost touch with our past.
Me: I find that difficult to believe. Are you implying that…
Pallavi (interrupting me again): I am not implying anything, just stating facts. You know about the Khajuraho Group of Temples, don’t you? They were built 1000 years ago in Central India and are today regarded as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. But what are they famous for? Thousands of erotic sculptures adorning the walls of those temples. Male and female sculptures in full or partial nudity, some engaged in erotic acts — all built in the early 11th century.
Me: Yes, I know. But…
Pallavi: Khajuraho is perhaps the only place in the entire world signifying the sensual aspect of human life boldly, through sculptures. It is an ode to erotica, a veneration of nudity that does not exist anywhere else.
Me: Hmm… that could indeed be true.
Pallavi: But nudism originated in India much earlier, in the 6th Century BCE. As a religious concept, to be exact. Both Buddhism and Jainism promoted nudity as a religious practice. Ascetic practices in both religions sometimes involved renouncing clothing. Particularly in Jainism, some monks embraced nudity as a symbol of complete detachment from the physical world.
Me: Yes, the Digambara sect. I remember now.
Pallavi: Therefore, honey, nudism is a 2500-year-old concept and its origins lie in Ancient India, not in the modern West.
Me: You seem to have all the facts on your fingertips. Why are you getting worked up about this assignment, then?
Pallavi: Because, I have to travel to remote corners of the country and document the lives and rituals practiced by these ‘nude ascetics’ for my article. Many of them strictly adhere to the ancient customs till this day, and almost all of them live in extremely remote places.
Me (sarcastically): Aha! Godforsaken places are a complete no-no for the fearless journalist Pallavi.
Pallavi: Well, godforsaken places should always be avoided by a lone woman traveller, journalist or not. But I have another idea. Why don’t you accompany me?
Me: Why? What for? I am not a journo.
Pallavi: But you could be one — a citizen journalist. Together, we could cover the shittiest places inhabited by the holiest of naked old men. As a rule of thumb, though, they do not entertain women visitors. Especially young urban ones like us.
Me: Is that so?
Pallavi: Yes, contact with women is prohibited as per ancient scriptures. So, we will have to pretend to be their disciples to gain entry into their world.
Me: Disciple? WTF! I am not getting into this nonsense. You go alone.
Pallavi: Relax, sugar! You have no idea what you might end up discovering. It could turn out to be an experience of a lifetime. And we just have to pretend to be their followers for a couple of days. How difficult can it be to fool a few old geezers?
Me: Naked old geezers…
Pallavi: Whatever. Remember, some of them also claim to be immortals.
Me (laughing): Immortals? Where did you get that from? Jeez, this keeps getting better and better.
Pallavi: Let’s find out together if meditating naked in a deserted forest makes one immortal. So, it’s settled then. We leave tomorrow at dawn.
Thus began our epic journey into the heart of remote India. Little did we know then that Pallavi’s prophecy would come true and we would end up having an adventure (and an ordeal) of a lifetime.
CHAPTER 1 — THE (NAKED) IMMORTALS OF ELLORA
Our quest for nude monks brought us to the tiny ancient hamlet of Ellora in western India — our first destination. Ellora is famous for its ancient caves which used to house hundreds of ascetics of the Digambara sect centuries ago. At present, only a handful of them remain there. In fact, Pallavi informed me that the total population of this sect in the entire country has now dwindled to less than 100.
Perils of modern civilization and urbanization, I thought. Nudism is now a hashtag, a trend, and not a moral choice to renounce the material world.
“The great monk lives on top of the hill behind those caves,” our local tour guide informed us. “But there is no way to set up a meeting with him. He seldom meets outsiders, let alone women.”
“Why so?” I was quick to ask.
“Women are regarded as fundamentally impure and immoral by this sect,” the guide replied with a straight face. “Especially by immortals like the great monk.”
“He is immortal? Really?” I started giggling.
“It’s not funny,” the guide’s tone turned sombre now. “He has been around for centuries. Most people living in nearby villages, including my parents and grandparents, have seen him around forever. Always old, but never aged a bit. Legend has it that he attained enlightenment centuries ago and has stopped aging since then.”
“How could most people get to ‘see’ him if he seldom interacts with outsiders?” it was Pallavi’s turn to be curious this time.
“Well, he has a handful of disciples who meet him regularly. They claim to have never seen him age or fall sick. It’s like he was born old, but never got older. The legend of his immortality has been going around since my grandparent’s time.”
“Could you please introduce us to one of these ‘disciples’?” asked Pallavi. “We are here to become his followers. We would like to join his cult.”
The tour guide obliged. He had nothing to gain by refusing our request. He took us outside one of the many caves dotting the landscape and asked us to wait while he went inside. He came out a few minutes later and nodded affirmatively.
“This is the great monk’s head disciple,” he warned us before we stepped inside the cave. “He practices complete nudity in accordance with his religious beliefs, so don’t be alarmed. And please be polite in your speech.”
Armed with this information and the flashlight of our smartphones, me and Pallavi entered the dark damp cave with trepidation. However, it was not a shithole as I had expected it to be. Turned out, that the entire pathway from the entrance to the inner sanctum of the cave was neatly swept and clean. The air was filled with the fragrance of incense.
The dark narrow pathway led us into a small clearing which was surrounded by rocks and pebbles. A single candle burned silently at the centre of the clearing alongside dozens of incense sticks. And right behind the candle sat a man with his legs crossed and eyes closed. He did not have a stitch on his body and it appeared as though he was lost in meditation.
“Excuse me?” Pallavi spoke first to draw his attention. The man slowly opened his eyes and moved his palms to cover his crotch.
“What brings you here?” he spoke in a gentle soothing voice which sounded neither too old nor too young. He was probably middle-aged, I thought.
“Sir, we have come all the way from Delhi to be your disciple,” Pallavi tried to sound as reverential as possible. “Please allow us to become a part of your community.”
“That’s impossible,” he replied without the hint of any emotion. “Women cannot be accepted in our sect.”
“But Sir,” pleaded Pallavi, “we wish to renounce the world, live a pious life, and attain enlightenment. Kindly help us.”
“Enlightenment! What can you possibly know about it?” his tone sounded sarcastic this time. “For our sect, women cannot become ascetics as they could not be naked, which is an essential component of the path to liberation.”
Pallavi went mum after hearing the word “naked”. I realised we had not incorporated this possibility into our plan. But going back without a result would mean a day’s journey gone to waste. Not to mention a personal setback for Pallavi. So, I decided to step in.
“Sir, we would be eternally grateful if we could personally request the great monk himself to induct us in your society,” I pleaded with folded hands. “Whatever he decides will be final.”
“You think his decision will differ from mine? For centuries, we have followed a certain custom, certain protocols. Exceptions cannot be made overnight, for no apparent reason,” he replied. “But since you have come a long way, I will talk to him. I cannot guarantee that he will be ready to meet you, though.”
He stood up stark naked without any warning. Me and Pallavi had to hurriedly turn our gaze elsewhere. But I did manage to catch the slightest glimpse of his crotch covered in dense black hair. And his bare bottom when he left the inner sanctum to go outside.
An hour went by before he returned. This time, we did not turn our heads to avoid staring at his nudity. We just turned our face sideways and glanced at him through the corner of our eyes periodically.
“You are in luck,” he announced to our surprise. “He has agreed to grant you an audience. Please follow me.”
Me and Pallavi stared at each other. We were going to meet one of the holiest monks in the country. An ‘immortal’. A nude legend. If only he would accept our proposal…
“He has never met a woman in his life since attaining salvation,” the disciple interrupted my thoughts. “So, please keep distance and avoid direct eye contact. And remember to speak politely even when he is rude with you.”
A long narrow dirt road meandered its way behind the caves through a riverbank. The place looked uninhabited and completely desolate. Pallavi blurted out, “Do you bathe in this river? It appears so calm and gentle.”
“We do not take baths. The saint is not allowed to bathe. For that will mean fixing our attention on the body,” replied the head disciple leaving us speechless.
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High on top of a hill, overlooking the river that ran on the outskirts of the caves, lived the naked saint Acharya. He is Immortal. He ran an Ashram for his disciples on the riverbank at the bottom of the hill. And lived alone on the hilltop.
Acharya was a true saint. Never married, never had children. Never touched a woman, never committed a sin. He kept his body and mind pure and free of lust and temptation. He renounced clothing.
His pure and serene world got shattered that day by the unannounced arrival of 2 ‘impure’ babes from Delhi. Me and Pallavi climbed up the hill and arrived at his doorstep gasping for breath with the head disciple leading the way.
“Filthy whores! What brings you here?” screamed Acharya. Then, turning to his disciple, he ordered curtly, “You may leave now.”
Me and Pallavi stopped short in our tracks. Did he call us ‘whores’? We stood dumbfounded as the disciple whispered before leaving, “Remember what I had told you. Always be polite, even if he is rude.”
“Holy Saint,” Pallavi bowed down before him, “We have come to lead a pious and honourable life. We want to atone for our sins. We wish to become your followers.”
The holy monk’s old eyes caught a glimpse of Pallavi’s deep cleavage and milky white boobs as she bowed before him. Pallavi is well-endowed even by Indian standards, so her luscious tits tumbled out of her blouse the moment she bent down.
“You cannot lead a pious life. You are a filthy slut,” yelled Acharya again. He hated women, despised young women, and had nothing but contempt for Urban Young Women.
“Please allow us to redeem ourselves,” Pallavi pleaded with folded hands. “Please accept us as your disciples. We want to devote ourselves to you. Give us a chance.”
The monk was old, but his eyes missed nothing. Like the ample size and melon-like shape of Pallavi’s breasts. Like her wide and rounded ass which appeared wider when she bent down. Even the solitary open button on her blouse did not escape his notice.
“You have something open on your…” he pointed at the open button. He was a saint, couldn’t utter the word ‘blouse’.
Pallavi quickly buttoned up her shirt. But the old man was not satisfied.
“You two have marks of sin all over your body. Purify yourself first. Take a dip in the river and wash off the impurities. Then come to me for your initiation,” he commanded.
We obeyed his command and ran to the river. We could not believe our ears. Did he say ‘initiation’? Did he agree to induct us in his sect so easily? Overriding centuries of tradition? Unbelievable!
“Listen Payal,” Pallavi jumped up in excitement, “we will do exactly as we are told. Okay? We will obey every command of his. He is one of the holiest and most revered men in India. This will be great for my research.”
Pallavi took off her blouse and took a couple of dips in the ice cold water of the river. I followed suit. The freezing cold water turned our nipples pointy and erect.
We put on our clothes on our wet bodies since we didn’t have a towel, and returned to Acharya’s house in that condition.
The old man was shocked to his core when he saw our clothes clinging to our wet bodies. His sharp gaze did not miss noticing our dark pointy nipples poking out under the wet fabrics. Our hips were also visible under the wet skirts we were both wearing. Droplets of water fell down my cleavage and ran down my thighs — all visible, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Holy Saint, we didn’t carry anything to dry ourselves with,” Pallavi said apologetically. “But we have washed ourselves clean.”
“Your conduct is disgraceful and disgusting,” shouted Acharya. “Now, take off your clothes and sit down over there with your legs crossed, and hands folded and joined together. Both of you.”
Take off our clothes? Did we hear him right? I hesitated and glanced at Pallavi.
“What are you waiting for?” the old monk screamed again. “Don’t you know that you have to renounce all clothing to get initiated?”
Pallavi made a quick eye gesture asking me to comply. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined a situation like this — disrobing in front of a naked old strange man in the middle of nowhere for a project that I had nothing to do with.
Hesitatingly, we both obeyed and removed our clothes, leaving the undies on. But we had underestimated the holy man. Even before we could take a step forward, he raised his hand indicating us to remain standing at our respective positions.
“What are those that you are wearing?” he pointed at my bra and panties.
“Um… undergarments,” I replied meekly, unsure of his intentions.
“Get rid of those vile pieces of cloth,” he yelled angrily. “Remove them right now.”
I stood frozen in fear and disbelief. This is not what I had signed up for. I looked at Pallavi and whispered, “I am not doing this anymore. You shouldn’t either. Let’s leave.”
“Babe, please just be patient for a while,” Pallavi replied in whispers too. “We are so close to getting initiated in his cult, and we will be gone tomorrow anyways. Please just comply. One final time, for my sake, please!”
“Strip naked? Sorry, that’s out of the question,” I sneered.
“Please!” Pallavi kept imploring. “I will owe you big time. Eternally.”
“What are you 2 filthy sluts whispering about?” Acharya’s offensive remarks resumed. “Do you need help?”
“Pardon us, Holy Saint!” Pallavi tried to pacify him. “We are complying. This very moment.”
Before I could react and bat an eyelid, she had unhooked her bra and rolled down her panties. She glanced at me while removing both from her body and threw them on the ground.
Left with no choice and no sign of support from my friend, I had to follow suit. As I began to curse her silently, my eyes fell on Acharya’s gaze. He seemed to be staring lustily at my clean-shaven cooch with his dirty old dark eyes. I cowered in shame and covered my crotch with my palms. But that was a momentary respite.
“Good. Now, sit down in front of me, both of you,” the old saint ordered.
We folded our hands in a ‘thank you’ gesture and sat down on 2 mats placed at Acharya’s feet. While Pallavi sat cross-legged as demanded by him, I was too shy to expose my pussy to his view. Therefore, I sat with my legs closed.
“Sit in a lotus pose, cross-legged, like your friend,” the old man reprimanded me in a stern voice. “You city sluts need to be taught everything from scratch!”
I took a deep breath, glanced at Pallavi, and slowly opened my legs. The moment I crossed them and settled down on the mat, the naked old man began to stare lustily at my bare snatch. I felt extremely uneasy and covered my crotch with my palms.
“Take your hands off, fold them like your friend has done,” hissed the immortal man. “There is no shame in nudity in our world.”
Saying this, he flashed a momentary dirty smile, the first of many more to come.
I did as I was told and stole a glance at Pallavi. Her large pendulous boobs were swaying sideways with each movement of her body. Her white thighs and freshly-trimmed dark pubes lay bare before the dark evil gaze of the great monk. But his stare was fixed on the clean-shaven valley between my legs. While Pallavi has bigger tits, I have a narrower slit and swollen pussy lips that most men find irresistible. At least ‘mortal’ men do. Acharya’s reaction proved that even ‘immortal’ men would find it difficult to not stare at my secret spot.
He started chanting mantras in Sanskrit, but got distracted again and again. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off our nude flesh.
He felt something he had never felt before. His ancient cock which had been sleeping for eternity had suddenly woken up.
Shaken and scared of sinful thoughts taking over his mind, Acharya tried to hide his erection with his hands. He told us that our initiation was almost over, and only one last act remained to be performed before we could be fully ordained.
“The Council of Immortal Saints will have to accept your induction,” he declared in a gravelly old voice. “I am going to bring them over now. Stay seated where you are. Do not leave.”
As he stood up suddenly to fetch his colleagues, a loud gasp escaped collectively from Pallavi’s throat and mine. The holy monk had a massive hard-on, his erection dangled obscenely in front of our eyes, and he made no effort to hide it at all.
“There goes your legendary immortal saint,” I sneered at Pallavi once he was gone. “Centuries of self-discipline and a pious life got shattered in seconds. His sacred manhood stands up at the first sight of 2 naked girls.”
“And gets bigger and taller, harder and larger,” giggled Pallavi in response.
How were we supposed to know that he would not be alone in this undesirable reaction to our nudity? That what was to follow would be a hundred times worse and distressing? That immortality was not limited to the souls of these holy men but extended to their libido as well?
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One by one they walked in. Some were old. Some very old. And some appeared as old as time itself. Stark naked, all of them. With heads and pubes full of white hair, limp cocks dangling, shrivelled balls hanging low between their legs. The Council Of Immortal Saints had honoured me and Pallavi with their divine presence.
There must have been a dozen of them. And they began their session by staring lecherously at our exposed private parts. One of them, the oldest perhaps, spoke first.
“What are your names?” he asked slowly.
“I am Pallavi, and she is Payal,” Pallavi volunteered to respond for both of us.
“Pallavi and Payal! Similar-sounding names. Are you two sisters?” this time Acharya asked flashing his trademark dirty smile.
“Um… no. But we are very close friends. Like sisters, you could say,” Pallavi replied without a second thought.
“Sisters in sin,” the oldest monk remarked. “And now you wish to become sisters in enlightenment and immortality, right?”
“Yes sir!” Pallavi’s eyes lit up hearing those words. “Can we truly become immortal?”
“Immortality lies in the soul, not in the body,” he replied as if he was giving a sermon. “The body perishes but the soul lives on. That’s what the scriptures say. Don’t you know?”
“Yes, Holy Saint! But I have heard that all of you are immortals in both body and spirit. Is that true?” Pallavi sounded like a curious kid.
“You have neither the knowledge nor the ability to understand what we truly are,” he continued in his sermon-like tone. “And you certainly do not have the authority to ask that question.”
Pallavi went silent. The sight of a dozen naked old monks sitting in front of us was intimidating in itself. But the tone of their voices and utter disrespect for us was unnerving. Acharya broke the silence after a brief pause.
“Let the process of initiation begin,” he declared loudly. “We will bestow upon you two sinners the divine gifts of renunciation and Nirvana.”
They all closed their eyes and started chanting mantras in unison. In ancient Sanskrit language. Me and Pallavi had no idea what was going on and where this was headed. But we noticed them open their eyes from time to time to gaze at our nude bodies and seemingly enjoying the view.
A few minutes later, they all opened their eyes and the chanting grew louder. My intuition warned me that something unexpected was about to happen. Something bad, or possibly evil. But what happened next was far worse, it was downright disgusting and terrifying.
The naked saints devoured our naked bodies with a dozen pair of naked eyes filled with naked lust. One by one, their limp cocks stood up. The chanting grew louder as the cocks grew harder and bigger. Until the chorus reached a crescendo and they all stood up on their feet.
All stood up. Together. At the same time. And surrounded me and Pallavi from all sides.
The deafening sound of the chorus sent shivers down my spine. But the sight of a dozen erect dicks surrounding and approaching us from all sides made me panic. I glanced at Pallavi. She was scared stiff too. I wanted to look for a way out, but there wasn’t any.
We were surrounded and encircled by the Council of Immortal Saints!
They approached us menacingly with their stiff boners in their hands. Each one of them was hairy, old, bald and hard. Their cocks stood upright pointed at us under their thick hairy groins and above their big hairy balls.
Pallavi tried to get up and run but was pushed down by the villainous Acharya. Which caused her 36DD boobs to sway heavily, jiggle and bounce.
The holy men went wild with savage desire. Like primitive beasts, they started pawing us from every direction. One groped Pallavi’s breasts, another grabbed my bottom, and the others molested whatever they could touch. It was hedonism at its best and we were scared shitless.
The dirty old scoundrels stepped forward like a pack of wolves. They pushed and shoved each other and jostled between themselves. Outnumbered and outwitted, we lay on the ground, pleading silently with our eyes for mercy. It had the opposite effect on them. Instead of compassion, all I could see in their eyes were pure lust and uncontrolled desire.
Chanting loudly as ever, they all stood around us, dicks in hands, jerking off furiously. One by one, they began to cum. Spurts of stale, stinky, smelly, pale cum started falling on our bodies from above. Like a waterfall.
Chunks of white semen fell on my throat, boobs, belly, thighs and face. And every other part of my body. The stench was overbearing, but I had to withstand it.
I remembered what the head disciple had said while leading us to Acharya’s place a few hours ago. Saints do not take baths, it is forbidden. That should explain the awful smell emanating from the monk’s bodies and cum, I thought.
I was bathed in semen. So was Pallavi. The dirty horny immortals had given us a semen bath. It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to us. They made us filthy from head to toe.
“This was your holy cleansing from the outside,” smirked Acharya, flashing his wicked evil grin. “Consider yourselves purified externally. Tomorrow, we will cleanse you from the inside with our sacred seed.”
They left as quietly as they had appeared. The chanting had stopped the moment they ‘purified’ us. The Acharya accompanied them and left the scene. Me and Pallavi were left behind on the ground, cowering and shivering.
We picked up our clothes in a flash and ran down the hill naked. We did not pause for a second till we reached the river. We threw our clothes on the riverbank and jumped into the cold clear water without uttering a word.
Of all the baths I have had in my life — and there must have been millions of them — the one I had in the river that moment was the most satisfying. I was desperate to get rid of the stench and stickiness from my skin, and so was Pallavi. We remained in the water for what seemed like an eternity before I could gather my thoughts and speak again.
“I don’t care how much you owe me,” I hissed at her. “But I am getting out of here this very moment. You can carry on with the rest of your assignment on your own. This is the most fucked-up experience I have ever had in my life.”
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CHAPTER 2 — THE SECRET SOCIETY OF THE (NAKED) NAGAS
I slept for 2 days straight upon my return to Delhi from Ellora. But Pallavi didn’t ditch me either. She accompanied me on the way home and stayed by my side every minute of those 48 hours I spent recuperating.
The harrowing ordeal at Ellora brought us closer than ever before. In spite of being accustomed to getting in and out of sticky situations, like journalists usually are, Pallavi was rattled to her core. She was not her usual self. I could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. Something inside told me that the situation needed to change.
On the 3rd day after our return, I decided to broach the topic of her project again. Her eyes lit up when I told her that I would not mind accompanying her to the next destination in order to fulfil her journalistic responsibilities.
But there was a caveat.
“No more posing as disciples,” I laid out my precondition. “We go as journalists and in case we don’t get access, we return. We will not try to infiltrate any sect or cult again.”
“Sure! Wow, am so happy!” Pallavi was ecstatic. “My editor has given me a list of contacts for the next group we are supposed to approach. It will be better and safer this time, I promise.”
“Hope so,” I felt lighter seeing her smile. “So, where are we headed to next?”
“The Himalayas,” Pallavi blurted out exuberantly as I rolled my eyes in disbelief. “The famous Naga sect will be our next target. As you know, they are a secret society comprising mostly men who have to embrace nakedness as a religious mandate.”
“I know about the requirement for compulsory nudity among the Nagas,” I replied hesitantly. “But I am not so sure about travelling all the way to the Himalayas to meet them.”
“C’mon! It’s going to be fun! My editor has given me contacts of a secret group of Nagas that reside in Gomukh, at the foothills of the Himalayas. It’s high up in the mountains, sure, but not up in the Himalayan range itself. It’s where the glacier that later becomes the River Ganges originates from.”
“So, it’s going to be remote and cold,” I replied grimly. “And how do we get up to Gomukh? On foot?”
“Yes. It’s going to be a fun trek of a few hours from the nearest town. The trek is completely safe, and we will be embedded with a group of expert trekkers as a precaution. Don’t you worry.”
So off we went, 2 Delhi girls carrying massive backpacks full of winter clothes and trekking gear. It was a welcome respite from the scorching June heat of Delhi as we reached the colder environs of the plains and then began our trek up the mountainous trail.
The trek was not as fun as Pallavi had predicted it would be. It was rough, rocky, the terrain was difficult and even dangerous at places. Fortunately, the professional trekking group we were embedded with came to our rescue on more than one occasion. They helped us reach our destination at the scheduled time.
The scenery was spectacular, though. I had never seen rough rocky terrain glow so radiantly in early morning sunlight. Or, breathed air so fresh and clean. The mighty snow-capped Himalayas inspired awe at daybreak and loomed like giant shadows at twilight. I felt fatigued, exhausted, but incredibly happy.
On the trek up, Pallavi gave me a brief history of the Naga sect. Nobody knows for sure where they live or come from. But legend has it that the sect was created in the 7th century CE and since then, the Himalayas have been their home. While they do not wear clothes as a religious mandate, they are known to carry weapons like tridents, swords, canes and spears.
“Weapons?” I was apprehensive. “Hope we will be safe this time.”
“Of course, honey,” Pallavi assured me. “You know I have your back, don’t you?”
I looked at her. Assurance apart, I could see genuine love and concern in her eyes, with a hint of regret, perhaps.
“What happened at Ellora was not your fault,” I decided to put her at ease. “And it happened to us both, so…”
“Yes, but I do feel responsible somehow for that nightmare,” she remarked regretfully. “Worst part is that I cannot even include that incident in my article. It’s going to remain a secret between you and me forever.”
Dusk had settled in by the time we reached our destination — a tiny Himalayan hamlet so remote and isolated that I doubt it exists on the map. A contact recommended by Pallavi’s editor lived here. The place is so sparsely populated that we could locate him in a matter of minutes.
“High up in the mist behind those caves lies a secret habitat of a small group of noble Naga ascetics,” he pointed his finger to what seemed to be the horizon. “That area is out of bounds for all, including the villagers, and especially for city folk.”
“So, how do we get in?” asked Pallavi.
“I have sent the message that you want to interview them for your newspaper,” he replied reassuringly. “They have agreed to let you stay there for a couple of days as long as you do not take any photos.”
“No photos? How will I maintain authenticity of my research without photos?” Pallavi got upset.
“That’s their precondition. You are allowed to stay there, eat and sleep there, talk to them. But you are not allowed to take a camera with you. They will take your camera away the moment you enter their society.”
“Let’s leave the camera with you, then,” Pallavi took her Nikon DS7500 out of her backpack and handed it over to the villager. “I would rather trust you with my precious equipment than a bunch of mythical people who live in secrecy.”
“What about our phones? These have cameras too,” I wondered aloud.
“If you are caught taking pics with your phone camera, they will confiscate that too,” the man replied with a deadpan expression.
“We won’t,” Pallavi intervened hurriedly. “Our phones won’t work up there anyways due to lack of signal reception.”
“You will spend the night in their habitat,” the man remarked. “Tomorrow morning, you may get to meet them all.”
“Are they all… um… naked?” I asked apprehensively.
“Yes. That is their holy mandate,” he started walking towards the caves hidden high up in the mist. We followed him silently, wondering what unforeseen turn of events lay in store for us this time.
*******************************************************
We reached the secret society of the mythical Nagas by nightfall. The climb up the hill was not that difficult, but the surroundings were actually covered in mist and fog. The fog was so thick that when we finally reached, we could not believe our eyes.
A couple of dozen thatched huts stood in the middle of a clearing, completely cut-off from the rest of the world by dense vegetation that surrounded it like a fortress from all sides. And the mist created a shroud so thick that visibility was reduced to almost zero at the ground level. The only source of light was a brightly lit torch made out of a tree branch planted on the soil in the middle of the hutment.
“Remember, there is no electricity here, nor in our village,” our guide informed us and disappeared inside the first hut. He came out shortly after with a giant of a man in tow.
A giant naked hairy barefooted man who, it appeared, had never had a shave or a haircut in his life.
“His Holiness will show you the place where you could rest for tonight. I will return after 2 days to take you back.” Saying this, he retraced his steps back to his village.
His Holiness stood a few feet away from us like a monstrous dark statue. Lucky for us, his nudity was not visible in the darkness of the night and the cover of the mist. The lone source of light — the torch planted in the soil — was behind his back. All we could see was the dark outline of his silhouette and a huge amount of hair on his head and face.
“Your Holiness, we are so honoured to be here,” Pallavi was the first to break the ice.
“Follow me,” he ordered in a deep baritone that reminded me of Leonard Cohen for a second. We kept our distance from him and arrived at a narrow space between 2 huts where 2 cots made of wicker were kept on the ground.
“This is where you will sleep,” he pointed at the rickety old cot beds which had no mattresses, no blankets and no pillows. He then entered one of those huts and closed the door.
“How will we sleep in the open?” I gasped at the thought. The chill in the air had started getting to me. “There is no mattress or pillow either!”
“There is no electricity in this remote region, and you are expecting pillows and blankets?” Pallavi lowered her voice to reprimand me. “Consider yourself lucky if you get a toilet here. Else, we may have to go behind that bush to…”
I shuddered at the thought. No toilet or bathroom? Relieving myself in the open? What have I gotten myself into?
“It’s for a couple of nights only. Try to manage,” Pallavi crashed down on the ancient cot bed in her jackets and woollens.
Sleeping in the open is not entirely new to me. I have done it before. But those happened in the middle of civilization, not in a desolate ungodly place like this at the foothills of the Himalayas with a couple dozen naked men as neighbours.
I don’t remember when I had dozed off, but I do remember waking up with a startle. A woman’s soft moans disturbed the cold silence of the cold night. In between her moans, I could hear her whimpers too.
I turned my head towards Pallavi. She was sleeping like a log. Unlike me, she is not a light sleeper. But a cat walking down the road is enough to wake me up.
I looked at my wristwatch. It was 2.00 AM. And it was freezing. Bone-chilling cold. So cold that my fingers had gone numb. So cold that my nipples had begun to ache.
Feeling uneasy, restless and curious, I got up from the cot and began to walk in the direction the moans were coming from. Is a woman staying here somewhere? We were told this was a strictly male community.
A couple of huts down the lane, the moans became slightly louder. Not loud enough to alarm the entire colony, but audible enough to raise my curiosity and nervousness.
And then I heard a familiar thumping noise. Alternating with the sound of the moans. A rhythmic thumping every 2 seconds followed by a moan or a whimper from a female voice. I knew what it was. I was accustomed to it. I knew what was going on.
It was the sound of fucking! Someone was humping a woman causing her to moan!
I peeked inside the window of the nearest hut but could see nothing. It was pitch dark inside and outside. But the thumping and moaning were clearly coming from inside this hut, I was certain of that.
A few seconds later, the pace of thumping increased, as did the frequency of the moans. I stood outside the hut, speechless, unable to move. The whole thing felt intriguing and sinister. And very scary.
Just then I heard the slightest footsteps behind my back and turned around. The silhouette of a giant dark hairy man stood a few feet behind me. His Holiness, or someone similar, was watching me in the dark!
Scared shitless, I retraced my steps and walked hurriedly back to my cot bed. As I sat down on the bed, the giant naked shadow walked slowly up to me.
“What were you doing over there?” the booming voice asked. It was unmistakably His Holiness. “Why are you awake?”
I might ask you the same question, I thought to myself. But my heart was pounding loudly. Gathering some courage, I answered meekly, “I could not sleep due to the cold. I am freezing,”
“Gomukh is always freezing. But you are wearing layers of clothes. Still feeling cold?” he asked.
“Yes. I can’t sleep,” I wailed. “My feet have gone numb. My toes are aching.”
“Give me 10 minutes. I will be back.” He entered his hut and reappeared soon. Holding a steel bowl.
“It’s warm oil. I will massage your feet with this, and you will feel much better.” He made a silent gesture asking me to remove my boots and socks.
I removed the heavy boots and socks from my feet. And he sat down near my feet to rub oil. With his big strong hairy hands.
“I heard a woman in that hut…” I mumbled nervously.
“You heard nothing,” his response was cold and intimidating, forcing me to shut up immediately.
Within minutes, I felt a significant improvement in my condition. The feet rub with warm oil felt so good! My feet felt warm, my body felt warmer, and I slowly dozed off to sleep.
“I will come back soon to check on you,” he announced and stood up to leave. “I will leave my door open.” He entered the hut and went inside.
I felt so warm and cosy that I didn’t bother about the open door. I fell asleep soon after. Only to wake up suddenly in the wee hours of morning. Shivering and feeling cold again.
But what startled me most was the impenetrable darkness around me. And the feeling that I was in a different place and on a different bed. As well as the sound of light snoring. Like a buzz, a continuous droning noise, coming from right beside me.
I could not see anything as it was pitch dark. But I could sense that I was inside a room, or a hut, and on a much larger cot. I could feel the presence of something, or someone, a couple of feet away.
I stretched out my hand nervously, and instantly knew what it was. Hair. Dense thick coarse hair. A hairy beast was in my bed! Lying right next to me!
“His Holiness, is that you?” I shouted in shock. His hands moved and he got up immediately. “What am I doing in your room?” I added.
“I came to check on you as promised,” he replied sleepily. “I saw you were not comfortable on your bed. So, I brought you inside. Are you feeling cold again?”
“You cannot bring me inside on your bed,” I protested. “Not without my permission at least. And certainly not sleep by my side. And yes, I am feeling cold again.”
“That’s why I brought you here,” he uttered slowly, “to keep you warm. You need body heat. Your city clothes will not help much.”
Saying this, he removed my jacket and kept it at my feet. Then suddenly inserted his hand under my sweatshirt and began to rub my belly button. His warm hairy paw felt like a heating pad on my cold skin. I was startled.
“His Holiness, what are you doing?”
“Making you feel warm,” he continued to rub my belly. Round and round. Slowly and softly. I felt warmer and stopped shivering.
Without warning, his hand then moved inside the elastic waistband of my sweatpants. As soon as it touched my pantyline, I sat up, my heart pounding loudly.
“Stop,” I protested, “you can’t do this. I would like to leave.”
“You are telling me what I can or cannot do in my own home?” he grabbed my shoulders and made me lie down again.
“Yes, this is wrong,” I continued. “It is indecent.”
“Nothing indecent about keeping someone warm in winter,” he reinserted his large paw inside my sweatpants. “And your friend outside will never find out anyway.”
“That’s not the point. I don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now. It’s not right.”
“You worry too much,” his hand was now rubbing my crotch through the panty. “I know what I am doing. Trust me, this is the best way to keep you warm.”
“But, I….” before I could finish my sentence, he pulled down my sweatpants to my ankles. And touched my flimsy Brazilian thong.
“How can this tiny little thing keep you warm?” he grabbed the elastic band of my thong and pulled it down to my thighs in one swift motion. “In this part of the world, women don’t wear such things. The men protect them from the cold.”
Before I could react, he started playing with my clit. His big fat fingers flicked it, pinched it, and rubbed it. “This is the way a man is supposed to keep a woman warm,” he said.
I must confess that his touch felt good. His fingers were the only things that were warm in that godforsaken place. My shivering vanished in seconds, as did my nervousness. And I felt so horny that my legs opened up inadvertently.
“Your cunt feels swollen and plump,” he said lustily and switched fingers. He used his thumb to rub my clit this time. And ran his middle finger along the length of my slit. Again and again.
“Wet and juicy,” he pressed his middle finger on the opening of my pussy and slowly pushed it in. “You have the wettest cunt I have seen in my life. My finger agrees with me too.”
“And for a holy man who lives outside civilized society and renounces the company of women, you seem to know a lot about women and their bodies,” I thought and parted my legs further. I was now wet with desire. The biting cold was gone, and I felt not just warm, but hot. The hairy beast’s filthy fingers had set my pussy on fire.
His thumb continued to stroke my clit till it was enlarged and erect. His finger kept shoving deep into my sloppy wet pussy. I lost all sense of shame and dignity. This is what I needed to escape the freezing cold. A primitive pleasure wave!
“Splotch! Splotch!” a dirty sound emanated from my slippery hole every time his finger plunged in. It made me equally aroused and ashamed. His finger and thumb movements had now turned vigorous. I began to moan loudly.
His relentless finger-fucking sent me into a daze. But I also managed to catch a glimpse of his crotch in the early light of dawn peeping in through the broken window. There was a massive boner poking out of his thick hairy bush, as if an angry animal was trying to jump out. That sight was enough to bring me to a climax.
I let out a loud moan, closed my eyes, curled my toes, and started squirting cum. My white juice came out with force, as if a balloon had burst. It drenched his fingers and the rickety bed. He licked it off his fingers and stared at me in admiration.
“You can sleep here every night if you wish to,” he remarked like a generous benefactor. “But do not tell your friend. This offer is for you only.”
“Thank you, Your Holiness, for keeping me warm,” I replied in gratitude and satisfaction. “I can now sleep in peace.”
“You don’t need any of these,” he removed the sweatpants and thong from my legs. “I will keep my finger inside your hole all night. That will keep you warm while you sleep.”
He kept his word. His fat finger slept inside my pussy the entire morning. For the 1st time in my life, I slept without clothes or blankets or a room heater on a chilly morning. And I did not feel cold even for a second.
*******************************************************
Pallavi was already up by the time I woke up, put on my clothes, and came out of the Naga monk’s hut. Luckily, she was not there and her bed was empty. Else, she would have been shocked to see me exit the holy man’s house and I would have been hard pressed for answers. It was 6.00 AM.
She turned up a few minutes later and flashed a beaming smile. I asked, “Where had you been to?”
“I was… um… behind those trees,” she pointed at the dense wall of vegetation surrounding the colony. “I had to pee. And where were you?”
“Over there,” I pointed at the bush in the opposite direction. “Doing the same thing.”
I am a bad liar. Usually get caught easily. But Pallavi did not notice, or was too preoccupied with other thoughts to notice. She pulled my hand and took me aside.
“I saw a woman here a few minutes back,” she whispered as if she was divulging a secret. “She looked like a villager from outside. She came out of that hut and tiptoed her way to the exit without making eye contact with anyone.”
“That hut?” I was dumbstruck. Pallavi was pointing at the same hut I heard the moans coming from the previous night. “I heard noises there last night.”
“What kind of noise?” she was curious.
“Noise of… you know… humping. Fucking. Moaning. Like someone was having sex. A woman’s moans,” I tried to explain in the least possible words.
“What!” Pallavi was shell-shocked. “What are you talking about? You must be exaggerating.”
“Nope,” I replied. “His Holiness followed me all the way to that hut, and told me it was nothing when I asked him about the woman’s voice.”
“Strange! These guys follow a strict code of brotherhood. Women are not allowed entry in their society, let alone in the bedroom.”
Pallavi was intrigued by the info I shared. I could see it in her eyes and in the frown on her forehead. Good journalists have good instincts, and can sniff out a good story from the tiniest of details.
“Let’s see if I could manage to catch up with her,” she said in a hushed tone. “Don’t tell anyone. I will be back in a second.”
Before I could react or figure out her intentions, she ran towards the exit of the hutment, outside the wall of vegetation and down the slope we climbed yesterday to reach here.
She was gone in a flash!
Unable to decide what to do next, I walked over to the bush on the other side I had pointed to Pallavi. It had been hours since I last used the washroom. I needed tree cover. I needed to pee.
I chose the densest spot of shrubs to ensure complete privacy while doing my business. As soon as I had pulled down my sweatpants and underwear, a voice scared the shit out of me.
“Do not sit here, it’s risky,” a male voice sounded from behind. Startled, I pulled up my pant immediately and looked around.
A monstrous man, clean-shaven but with a head full of long hair that reached his shoulders, emerged from behind the tree cover. He was tall, really tall, probably 6 feet 4 or more. He had big eyes and bushy eyebrows. His arms and legs were the size of tree trunks. And he had some light grey powder smeared on his entire body except his privates.
Yes, he was butt naked.
My gaze fell on his dong momentarily. A silent gasp escaped my throat. It was a gigantic organ, certainly the biggest cock I have ever seen. His balls were equally enormous, they swayed sideways like coconuts during a hurricane when he walked. His crotch was covered in a dark dense mass of jet black hair that resembled an Amazon rainforest.
“Those are poison ivy,” he pointed at the shrub I was about to sit near. “If they touch your private parts, you will be in trouble.”
Poison ivy? In my private parts! I went numb at the thought of one touching the other.
“Go to the other side, it’s safe there,” he pointed at the direction Pallavi had been to in the morning.
“Ok, thanks,” I hurriedly brushed past him and ran towards the clearing I came from. I had missed my opportunity to pee in peace. It would have to wait.
Pallavi was back and I found her panting. It appeared she had run all the way down and up the hill. She pulled me aside and whispered, “You won’t believe what I am about to tell you.”
“I will,” I replied without a second thought. A woman’s moans at night in an all-male neighbourhood, getting finger-fucked by a saint, narrowly escaping poison ivy’s touch on my genitals, and witnessing the biggest male organ ever — my list of weird and unbelievable occurrences was growing exponentially fast. I was prepared to believe anything.
“I got hold of that woman at the bottom of the hill. She was reluctant to speak but I cajoled her into opening up by swearing to keep our discussion confidential. By the time she finished narrating her story, her husband and mother-in-law appeared to take her back home.”
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
“She said she is childless, and like all rural Indian families, there is tremendous pressure on her to conceive. Else, she and her husband will face social ostracizing. They will be isolated in the neighbourhood, in the community, in the village…”
“I know what happens to childless women in rural India,” I said impatiently. “They are branded and disowned by society. Why was she here?”
“Apparently, there is a curse on that entire village. Every household is childless. Or rather, was childless until they found a cure.”
“Which is?” my impatience was making me jittery.
“A blessing from the holiest of holy Nagas, the great Aghori,” Pallavi whispered excitedly. “The only Nagas to have attained salvation and divine powers. The great Aghori gives his divine blessing to these childless women and they start bearing children immediately afterwards.”
“How so?” I was stunned.
“How do you think, you idiot! How does a woman conceive? The husband and mother-in-law send the woman to the Aghori Baba for his blessing for a night. The saint fills up her womb with his divine seed and the miracle happens. The woman conceives soon after.”
“WTF!” I could not believe my ears. I knew something fishy was going on inside that hut last night, but had no idea it was a ‘sacred’ fuckfest.
“And her family knows about it?” I asked, horrified.
“Knows? They ‘send’ their women here to conceive. Almost every woman in that village has been here at least once. The population of that entire village increases by the grace and blessings of these holy men.”
“My God! This is sheer exploitation!” I was aghast.
“Don’t be silly,” Pallavi scoffed. “This is totally consensual. In fact, this is an ancient tradition that goes back thousands of years. Having a child is a must for every woman in India, especially in rural areas, and if a visit to a sacred saint for a night guarantees that, then nobody will object.”
“I am pretty sure these helpless women are being forced into this by their in-laws and husbands,” I was angry and upset. “No woman in her right mind would sleep with a stranger who has never bathed, never shaved, and lives in the middle of nowhere. We should go to the police.”
“Police? Ha ha!” Pallavi burst out laughing. “There is no doctor within a 200-mile radius, and you are talking about cops! Honey, time for a reality check. In this part of the world, these naked hairy godmen are the Almighty, the Faith and the Law.”
“Hmm…” I sighed. She was right.
“But this is going to be a scoop of a lifetime for me,” Pallavi whispered again in excitement. “A true story of ‘divine conception’, going on for centuries, right at the foothills of the Himalayas. Imagine the impact this story will have! That woman told me that her married sister will also come here tonight for a blessing. And I will be ready.”
“With what? For what?” Pallavi’s exuberance scared me.
“With my phone camera, what else? You and I will keep an eye out on all the huts for a woman visitor. Once the action begins at night, I will start clicking, while you will watch my back. Deal?” She beamed a smile so bright that I could not refuse.
“If we get caught, we will be fucked,” I warned her.
“Royally. I know,” she nodded affirmatively.
*******************************************************
We spent the whole day in that colony staring at naked hairy men, about a dozen of them. They were of all shapes and sizes, though most of them were tall and big, and had an immense amount of body hair, from head to toe. Pallavi chatted up with a few of them, displaying a keen interest in their lifestyle choices and food habits, though I knew that it was all a facade and she was biding her time till nightfall.
Night came quickly, quietly and early. Days are shorter at the foothills of the Himalayas, and the area was enveloped in darkness by 6.00 PM. It was then that I realized that our phones and power banks were running low on battery, having not been charged even once in the last 36 hours, even though they had been kept on power-saving mode.
“Let’s see,” Pallavi tried to sound upbeat. “Hopefully, the battery will last long enough to click some pics and record a couple of videos. Our village contact will be here tomorrow to take us back anyways.”
We were served a diet of fruits only throughout the day. Those men were probably not good at cooking, or too saintly to indulge in a menial activity such as cooking, and ate the same fruits they offered us for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Bedtime was at 8.00 PM. Too early for an urban owl like me, but quite normal for holy men living in the mountains, it seemed. We waited with bated breath for any glimpse of a female visitor, but there was none.
“One thing that has been bothering me since morning,” Pallavi quipped once we were both in bed, “is that I didn’t find any Aghori saint in this colony. But that woman clearly mentioned that it was an Aghori she had met with last night.”
“What’s the difference? How do you differentiate between the two?” I asked curiously.
“Well, let’s say that all Aghoris are Nagas, but all Nagas are not Aghoris,” she replied. “It takes years of penance, rituals and extreme sacrifices for a Naga to attain the status of an Aghori. Not everyone succeeds. Only a handful is bestowed with this honour and respect. Aghoris smear ashes on their entire bodies when they venture out in public. An Aghori is to Naga society what Rolls Royce is to the world of automobiles — the ultimate status symbol, the pinnacle of excellence.”
“Got it,” I was getting bored listening to the social hierarchy of the Naga sect and looking at my watch every minute. The mist and the cold began to bite me. I felt restless. I wanted to pee.
Leaving Pallavi behind, I ventured into the dense vegetation that was described as ‘safe’ by the giant naked man with the monstrous pecker I met in the morning. Where was he? I realized I didn’t spot him among the dozen men living here. Was he an outsider?
It was pitch dark and bone-chilling cold. I had no idea whether the shrubs had any poison ivy around. I would not have been able to identify it anyway. I just had to rely on the man’s words and Pallavi’s experience of peeing safely in this spot.
As I sat down to do my business, I heard it. The soft moans. From a female voice. And a couple of whimpers. That region was so silent and desolate that even a cat walking by could be heard. A moan from a human voice was distinctly audible, no matter how suppressed it was.
I got up quickly and pulled up my pants. I tiptoed to the hut the sound was coming from. It was a different hut this time, but the sounds were identical. The same rhythmic thumping, the same whimpers, the same gasps and moans. And the same impenetrable darkness inside the room as I tried to peek inside through the half-open window.
Shaking in nervous anticipation, I walked fast towards the place our cot beds were kept. I had to inform Pallavi, she had been waiting for this very moment the entire day. Imagine my surprise when I found her sound asleep on her cot.
“Wake up!” I whispered and shook her violently. “He is humping her.”
“Who is doing what?” Pallavi woke up startled, barely managing to open her eyes.
“The woman. She is here. I heard the moans,” I whispered loudly in excitement.
Pallavi jumped up in a flash. Took out her phone and mine and made a silent gesture to me to lead the way.
We walked as silently as we possibly could. When we reached the hut, the speed of the thrusts and the frequency of the moans had increased. An intense mating session was in progress, and Pallavi could not let this opportunity go at any cost. She committed the stupidest act of her life.
She turned on the phone camera and the flashlight, and peeped through the window. A second elapsed before the thumping stopped abruptly. Followed by a loud gasp from the woman. And then she shrieked.
It must have been sheer shock and astonishment that made her shriek so loudly, but the damage was done. Me and Pallavi were bamboozled, stunned, caught by surprise, and caught red-handed. At least 4 giant men came out of the nearby huts and surrounded us.
We were not ready for this unexpected turn of events, nor were they. We kept staring at each other for a few seconds before Pallavi made a run for it. One of the men grabbed her and another snatched her phone. The remaining two grabbed me and lifted me off the ground.
My heart was in my mouth. What have we gotten ourselves into? What will happen to us now? How do we escape?
There was never an opportunity for me to calm down and think, to not panic, to not be afraid. Chaos reigned supreme as the entire colony woke up and every Naga pounced upon us.
They smashed our phones on the ground and stomped violently on them. They ripped our clothes apart and stripped us naked. They tied our hands and feet to the 4 corners of the cot beds we were supposed to sleep in. And then their chieftain stepped in to address us.
“You have desecrated this holy society,” His Holiness growled in his earth-shattering voice. “Now, we will desecrate you till your penance is completed. You will not be allowed to leave from here. You will stay here as our captives for the rest of your lives. You will repent for your sin every moment of every day. And you will be defiled by each member of our society for as long as he wishes, as many times he wishes and in any manner he wishes. That will be your punishment.”