Satisfaction Ashram

I lay there agonizing and seething, throwing my body about and muttering in frustration. He had done it, completely fooled me. Teddy had said he was doing what he knew I needed for me—sending Mort to tell me that it was a peace offering. Not coming himself. I should have known. He was punishing me, not just sending me away, and also having me imprisoned. Getting his revenge for what he thought I was going to do to him—desert him in his time of need.

I was beside myself, my mind racing on where I was and how I was going to get out of here. It was some time before I realized that I could hear the sounds of men moaning and groaning again—and now so much clearer than before. I looked up at the shuttered window. But it wasn’t shuttered anymore. I rose from the cot and went to the window. It was barred. The spindles were wood, but where they joined at the top and bottom showed me that inside the wood were iron bars. There would be no escape through this avenue.

But I didn’t think of that now because of what I saw beyond the window. The window didn’t open to the outside; it opened to a large two-story room, and not just a room, a large cavern. The ashram must have been built into the mountainside at the mouth of a large cave. It was some sort of meeting hall, ornately painted in frescoes—frescoes of waving scenes upon uneven rock walls of naked men fucking in a lush jungle. The positions of the Kamasutra. The positions that I had been studying in the yoga books for two days.

There were men in the hall, in spaced ranks on mats on the uneven stone floor below. As I focused I could see that the men were in pairs. They were all naked, with their white cotton trousers and tunics folded neatly beside them, and they were all fucking. This was the source of the mass male moaning and groaning I’d heard on earlier occasions.