Her breast were hanging down and touching the cold, smooth marble floor. The old woman was sitting in front of her in her white robe looking straight ahead. A black leather string wound around her forehead with the purple Jasmine stone hanging at her third eye center. The woman picked up a small bouquet of dry and spry branches and hit Isabelle on her back. She hit her again. Then, she chewed a bit on air and said: "Your penance is accepted. May you go force and commit sins fitting of the punishment." Isabelle crawled forward and kissed the foot in the pink flip flop. Then she ruffled her spa robe around her and took a look at the arches and murals around her. The popping of a chewing gum bubble from the girl behind her, reminded her to move on.
The temple servants small girly hands caressed her back, while a shovel of water was poured over her back. The hands softly moved down to her back and started massaging her back clumsily. The air was warm and moist as water was poured. The wooden barrel she was sitting in hugged her, kept her close, kept her cozy, and oh so far apart from the other visitors. Her lips had that sticky feeling that happens, when they are getting moist and stay closed for a long time.
The temple servant diligently worked her whole body with soap and a sponge. She got under the arm pits, in between the toes, behind the ears. They for sure didn't even spare her behind. There was no hesitation as she felt fingers pushing inside of her mouth. The rubber felt foreign and comforting at the same time. Her tongue was pushed around. There were pinches as the dental tape was pushed down the space between teeth and sawed back and force. Teeth are alive and feeling things. She spit out a wad of saliva and blood into a cup.
When her head was held back, she struggled for a bit in the bath tub and slipped. The eye drops poured down, until she could relax enough to simply be a tense bundle in the firm grip of the temple servant. A tear ran down her cheek. She wasn't sad. She looked at the face of the temple servant, who paid no mind to look back at her. She felt the hand around her jaw pushing the back of her head onto the plumb thigh of the temple servant. As she saw the black ash falling down towards her eye, she pushed with her feet. The water flew high. Her head didn't move. She blinked wildly. The temple servant muttered: "You think you are tough, you girls. You are all nothing more then young puppies held in a knowing hand."
The world blurred around her. She thought about risk infections by following outdated mystic beliefs. She thought for a moment, how far the stress of the office was away. She trembled with anxiety for a bit about what would await her inside of the chambers. She thought about the peanuts and snoopy. She thought about the stupid rituals society imposed on her. She had seen girls on TV in g-strings. She had seen women driving cars in those magazines that they always kept snug under their long black robes. She had heard of the broken men, who ended up in prison for touching a woman in those distant countries. This was what her country offered her in the temple of Venus.
At first, she squealed a little bit, suppressing the urge to turn around and grab the temple servant with both hands. Instead she only clutched on harder to the edge of her blond wooden bathtub. Her head started throbbing. She gasped for a bit more air. The feeling in her anus was overwhelming her. Then, that familiar feeling of a knocking bowel movement mixed with the alarm of holding it in until she could reach the bathroom. The temple servant told her: "Just let go, girl." She tried to get with the program and pushed as warm water spilled out of her anus. "Good, who knows, what kind of shit pieces are coming out of me," she thought silently to herself. "First time girl, huh?" asked the temple girl without waiting for a response.
Isabelle relaxed a bit as she felt the wooden barrel at her back, watching the temple girl leave with the bucket of her enema. The ceiling had a mural of an old guy with grey curly hair and a head band grabbing the breast of a young girl, whose limbs were flailing in all directions ignoring the rules of gravity. Behind the two an angel was floating on a cloud and holding out their arms in blessings. Beneath it a modern red 'exit' sign illuminated the otherwise somber lighting. This was the second outer court.