The Lotus Blossom-conclusion

“Keep yor britches on, right, guv. She'll be 'ere in a minute.”

Glancing across the room at a hallway into which the hostess had disappeared, I saw her emerge with another woman. The woman was strikingly beautiful! At first I thought that she was European, but her almond shaped eyes led me to believe that she had some Asiatic blood-that she was Eurasian. I could understand how John could have been attracted to her. After the hostess had pointed to our table, she walked over toward us. Since I was sitting next to the wall with my face in the shadows, she didn’t see me clearly until she was standing behind Donovan. Then, putting her hand to her mouth, she exclaimed, “Johnny!” But as I was about to correct her, she said, “No, you can’t be Johnny-and there’s something different about you. You must be his brother.”

John and I look very much alike. Since, in the poor light, she couldn’t have determined so readily that I wasn’t John, I concluded that she must either know where he was, or the reason that I couldn’t be he. Rising from my seat and walking around the table, I grabbed her arm. “Where’s John? What’s happened to him?”

Donovan, also rising from his chair, started to grab my arm, but was stopped by the look I gave him. "Eh up, 'old it a minute, right, guv, yor attractin' too much atttention. Why don't we all sit dahn and 'ave a drink. Yer can question 'er then."

Looking around, I saw that we did, indeed, have an audience, so, not letting go of her arm, I pulled out a chair, guiding her to it. “Now, tell me what you know about John.”

“First buy me a drink. They’ll expect me to get you to buy drinks,” she said.

"That's a right good idea. I could use sumfink ter drink," said Donovan. When I looked up, a waiter was already at the table. “Wot're yer drinkin', guv?” asked Donovan.

I ordered scotch, Donovan ordered rum, and the woman placed her order in Chinese. “Now,” I said, again placing my hand on her arm, “where’s John?”

“I don’t know where Johnny is,” she answered.

To Donovan, I said, “I thought you said she had information about John?”

"I said she 'ad some information about yor bruvver. I didn't say that she knew where 'e were. If yer'll calm dahn some, guv, we might be able ter find out wot she knows."

Turning to her, I asked, “What about John? How did you know my brother?”

“We were...friends. He came in here often.”

Appraising her once again, I couldn’t really blame John for being “friends” with this woman. Other than Isisandra, she was the most beautiful woman that I’d ever seen. Her Asiatic blood made her even more exotic and intriguing Her skin was actually lighter than my tanned skin, but without the reddish tint that one finds in the skin of most Brits.

“If you don’t know where he is, do you know what happened to him?”

She started to reply, but was stopped when the waiter returned with our drinks. After the waiter left, I repeated my question, “Do you know what happened to John?”

Before answering, she glanced around the room. Following her gaze, I noticed several men at other tables that seemed to watching us.

“Drink your drink,” she said, “smile and laugh. Don’t look so angry. People will wonder what we’re talking about. We don’t want to attract attention. It’s strange enough for an Englishman to be in here. Cairo, as your brother found out, can be a dangerous place.”

Smiling and laughing-laughter which reminded me of wind chimes-then raising her glass, she said “Cheers.”

"Well go on then, guv. 'ave a drink wiv the bloody lady."

Raising my glass, I said, “Cheers,” then drank. The scotch was bitter, but feeling the need of a drink, I drained the glass. “Now-what about my brother?”

“Your brother was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped-by whom? I haven’t had any requests for ransom.”

“He wasn’t kidnapped for ransom.”

Further questions were interrupted by the waiter’s hovering about the table to see it we wanted more drinks. Donovan eagerly ordered another round. Then I continued my questioning. “Why, then, was he kidnapped?”

“There’s a group-an organization-that is opposed to England’s presence in Egypt. They kidnapped your brother to embarrass England.”

The waiter reappeared with our drinks. Picking up mine, I only sipped at it. I was feeling the effects of the first drink, actually feeling a little drunk. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “But, my brother is only a private citizen. How could kidnapping him embarrass England?”

It wasn’t just your brother that they wanted.”

I shook my head again. I was having trouble thinking-keeping my eyes open. “What...what did they want?”

“They wanted you.”

Before I collapsed onto the table, I thought that I saw some familiar faces-those of Isisandra’s bodyguards.

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Awaking sometime later, I was nauseated and had a headache. I was naked, lying on the floor in a small, dimly lit, room or cell; the only light came from a small barred window in the heavy wooden door or through a small opening in the door at the floor. There were no furnishings. Hearing the sound of running water from the wall opposite the door, I found a small trench through which water ran. Sick at my stomach, I vomited into it. As I watched the effluvia being flushed away by the water, I concluded that the trench would function as a toilet. When I had recovered somewhat, I walked to the door, pounded on it, shouting, calling out to anyone that could hear me. No one answered my calls.

Drugged-they must have drugged me-but why? What did they want with me? Had I really seen Isisandra’s bodyguards, or had it been my imagination? I remembered what Isisandra had said at our parting on the dock: “Remember what I said, Robert. We are forever bound.” Was she somehow involved? In the bar, the woman had said something about an organization opposed to England’s presence in Egypt, but how could their abduction of me embarrass England. They could kill me or demand a ransom, but that wouldn’t unduly embarrass England.

God, I was a fool: a fool to come to Egypt; a fool to trust Donovan; a fool to think that I could find my brother when neither the police or the British Embassy could. Donovan must have been involved. He had led me to the club. He had encouraged me to drink the drugged liquor. Damn, I’d wring his scrawny neck if I could get my hands on him. From him, my thoughts went again to Isisandra. Could she somehow be involved? I thought that I’d seen her bodyguards at the club, but, being under the influence of the drug at the time, I couldn’t be certain.

Continuing to pound on the door, I shouted until I was hoarse, but to no avail. I paced my cell, measuring it. It was three paces wide and four paces deep from the door to the trench, probably about five feet by seven feet of floor space, with an additional foot and a half taken up by the trench. The walls and floor were tiled. After being awake for an interminable time, I was sitting on the floor, when, hearing a scraping sound at the door, I saw something being slid through the hole at the bottom. Scuttling across the floor, I saw a small dish of food and a pitcher of water. I pounded on the door and shouted again, but received no response. I strained to peer out the window in the door, but saw no one.

I don’t know how long I was in the cell. The temperature and lighting remained constant. Food seemed to appear randomly; I was unable to judge the passage of time. The only indication I had that I wasn’t alone was the appearance of food, and the removal of my soiled dishes. I had discovered early that I wouldn’t receive additional food until I had placed my soiled dishes under the door.

I had begun to despair. It was the first time in my life that I had been truly alone. As a child there had always been my father and my brother. As an adult, there had been friends-and servants. Servants had always been at my beck and call. Now, there was no one. I would occasionally glimpse a hand as it placed food into my cell and, when I rushed to the door, would-through the small barred window-sometimes see a hooded figure which quickly scurried away. It never heeded the shouts I hurled after it. I would have almost preferred torture to being left so alone. There was nothing to do, but pace my cell-and think. I thought about my home, about Julianne, about England-wishing I had never left. I wondered about my brother. Had he met a similar fate? Was he being held somewhere in a similar cell? I thought about Isisandra, wondering again if she were involved-fantasized about her frequently-about making love to her, masturbating as I did. My only measure of time was the length of my beard. It was almost an inch long when they came for me.

I heard their footsteps in the passage way-the click of their sandals on the tile. Rising from the floor, I sped to the door’s window, straining to look out. From what I could see, there were four of them-large Egyptians with shaved heads. One of them unlocked the door. Still clinging to the bars in the window, I was hurled into the passageway when the door was pulled open. Two of them grabbed me by my arms. I struggled briefly, but they were strong. I was weak from my long inactivity. “Who are you? What do you want of me?” I asked, but received no answer. Then, looking down, I saw something that frightened me to my core. Since they were also naked, I saw that they had no genitals. Their crotches, as bare of hair as were their heads, were smooth. Gawking at them as if they were some exotic species of animal, I could see faint scars where their penises had been. Other than that, it was as if they had been born that way. Looking at their faces, I saw that even their eyebrows had been plucked. They were completely devoid of hair.

I was taken to a room-given a bath then shaved, my head as well as my beard-then plucked. All my body hair, that at my groin, under my arms, on my arms and my legs, even my eyebrows-it was all plucked, until I was as devoid of hair as were my attendants. I was anointed with oil and perfumed, then given something to drink. I hesitated, remembering the drugged liquor at the bar, but was forced to drink it.

It was drugged, but, rather than rendering me unconscious, transported me. It was as if I were in a dream. I could observe everything that was happening, but I couldn’t act on any of it. They led me down a hallway, no longer having to grip my arms tightly. Devoid of will, I followed obediently. The hallway, broad, with a high ceiling, ended at large double doors. My attendants opened them, revealing a large room. Torches, positioned along the walls and on stanchions supporting the ceiling, burned brightly. Gold was everywhere. Golden statues of Egyptian Gods, but the largest was that of a statue of a woman with a child at her breast-a statue identical to the one I had seen in Isisandra’s cabin on the Bristol Star. It was at the rear of the room. Before it was a large stone table-or altar.

Arranged in a semi-circle before the statue, around the altar, were men and women, all naked, but wearing masks, each apparently depicting some Egyptian God, each covering their entire heads. I said men, but should have properly said that they had once been men. Now, they were all eunuchs. I was the only male in the room that had a penis or testicles. I was led to the altar-strapped to it. No one in the room had said a word. Then, from behind the statue, two other people, a man and a woman, came into my view.

Although she wore a mask, its face identical to that of the statue before me, she was naked. I would have known that body anywhere. It was Isisandra! I opened my mouth to speak, but realized that I couldn’t remember how to speak. The drug had taken more than my will. I glanced at the man-another eunuch whose body was devoid of hair. Although he seemed familiar, I didn’t recognize him at first-then both my eyes and mouth opened wide as I realized that it was John. It was my brother!

He said nothing-and I couldn’t say anything. I could only watch as he approached the altar on which I lay. Grasping my cock, he stroked it. It immediately became hard. He climbed onto the table, straddling me-my cock-then lowered himself onto it. My cock penetrated his ass. He rode it, as would a woman, as had Isisandra on many occasions. I came, shooting my come into my own brother’s bum.

Disengaging himself, without acknowledging me or saying a word, he joined those standing around the altar. My previous attendants came over and washed me off. Then Isisandra, her voice muffled behind her mask, began chanting in some unfamiliar language-it didn’t seem to be Arabic; it seemed more ancient. I wanted to speak to her, to apologize, to tell her that I would marry her, if that would stop what I feared was to come, but couldn’t. I couldn’t form the words. I could think them, but couldn’t speak them.

Picking up a knife-a dagger-she held it in both hands, one on the handle and the other on the blade. Holding it up, above her head, she turned as if offering it to the statue, to the god it represented. I had thought that the statue in Isisandra’s cabin had been some representation of Mary, but no longer did. These were more ancient gods.

Continuing to chant and turning back toward me, she walked over to stand beside me at the altar. With the hand that had held the blade, she grasped my cock. With dagger in the other, she sliced it off. I watched in fascination as blood spurted from its stump. Was there pain? I felt it. I felt her slice through it, but it was as if it were happening to someone else. At the time, I felt no sense of loss-no concern about the blood pouring from my groin. She placed my cock in a small golden bowl, then, grasping my scrotum in one hand, sliced it off-along with my balls. They, too, went into the bowl. Turning, holding the bowl containing my manhood, she raised it, then poured the contents into a brazier burning before the statue. There was a bright flash as my cock and balls were consumed-given in offering to the goddess.

All the masked figures, along with Isisandra and John, left the room. Several of the eunuchs, rushing in from where they had been standing along the walls of the room, began attending to my wounds. Surgeons, they must have been, because they removed the rest of my cock, suturing as they did, redirecting my pee hole to below where my balls had been They sutured the blood vessels that used to be attached to my balls. Rather than being returned to my cell, I was taken to room where I was placed upon a bed. Before long, I fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning, not knowing where I was. Although the room was strange, I first imagined that I was back at home in England-that I had awakened from a dream-a nightmare of sorts. Then feeling the pain, I looked at my crotch. It was swathed in bandages. Ripping them off, I discovered what I had known I would. Other than seeping, stitched, wounds, there was nothing there-no cock or balls. I was a eunuch. How could such a thing have happened to me? I was Lord Melvile, an Earl, a British aristocrat. I had dined at the Queen’s table. Now, I was no longer even a man.

I considered taking my life, but, even if I had found the courage, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity. There was always someone present in my room. Over the months that followed, I healed. Other than my attendants, I saw no one, neither Isisandra or John. Then, one day, after I had completely healed, I was taken to her.

She was in a large room, in the center of which was a pond. In it were growing plants with large flowers. I recognized them from pictures that Professor Whittle had shown me. They were lotus blossoms. She saw me staring at them. “Pretty, aren’t they. More than a flower, they are a symbol of the spiritual world.”

But, flowers, as interesting as these were, weren’t what I wished to discuss. I looked at Isisandra. Wearing only a diaphanous skirt that hung from her hips to the floor, she was now obviously pregnant. “Why did you do it, Isisandra? Because I wouldn’t marry you? Was it all for revenge?”

I was standing naked before her, but, having been naked, as was everyone, for so many months, no longer felt embarassed about it. I had even become accustomed to the smoothness of my crotch. It was only staring at her, that I suddenly missed having my cock. Although she caused no stirring in my groin, as she always had before, I felt my nipples harden. I was aroused. I wanted her-in spite of what she had done. Suddenly, I wanted to make love to her-but how?

As if reading my thoughts-I supposed my desire showed in my face-she came to me and, taking my hand, led me to a bed. Seating me on the bed, she unfastened the garment from her hips, dropping it to the floor-stood before me naked. Even with the bulge of her pregnancy, she was beautiful. “Come to me, Robert. Minister to my flower. Worship my lotus blossom.”

I did. My tongue, finding the entrance to her garden, probed it-found her flower, her own lotus blossom. I ministered to it. I worshipped it. She awarded my adulation with moans and cries, writhing on the bed beneath my tongue. When she pinched my nipples, I had a sort of orgasm myself. It was different from those I’d had when I had a cock. It was dispersed throughout my body rather than being located in my groin.

Lying on the bed afterward, I asked her again, “Was it all because I wouldn’t marry you, Isisandra?”

“No, Robert. It was planned before I ever met you. The goddess chose you.”

“The goddess-the statue?” I thought you told me that it was Mary.”

“I never said that it was Mary. I said that it was the Mother of God. Her name is Isis. I am her earthly incarnation. I’m directly descended from the daughter of Ptolemy I, the first incarnation of Isis. I will have your son. He will take my father’s place as the incarnation of Ra. His daughter will be my replacement. Thus, it will continue.”

“How can you, an intelligent, educated woman, believe such superstitious nonesense?”

She laughed. “Superstitious nonesense, Robert? I have experienced the power of the ancient gods. They delivered you unto me. What has your god ever done for you? Besides, didn’t you know? Mary, the mother of Jesus-your god-was fashioned after Isis-is a poor copy of her.”

“But, how could you have known about me-and why me?”

“First, the goddess delivered your brother into our hands through one of our priestesses. You met her in the bar. She, as are all the priests and priestesses, are all related by blood to me-descended from the Ptolemy’s. At first I thought he was the one-destined to be my mate-but soon discovered that he had a brother-an earl, the Lord Melvile. It was then that I knew you were to be my mate-the father of Ra.”

“And, the letter from John?”

“He wrote it, but we sent it to get you to come to Egypt.”

“And, you just happened to be on the ship?” Already I knew that it hadn’t been by chance that I’d met Isisandra.”

“No, Robert. It was planned. I went to England to meet you. To entrap you, I guess.”

“How did you know I would take your ship-or that I would come at all?”

“We timed the arrival of the letter so that there would be no other ships leaving for Egypt-and we trusted the Goddess. She delivered you into our hands.”

“Then it was all planned? It was all a scheme? You never loved me? All you wanted was my seed?”

“Actually, Robert. I did fall in love with you. I was willing to betray the Goddess, my father, and my people for you. I would have married you-returned to England with you as your wife, but your prejudice prevented it. Because of my birth, my nationality-because I wasn’t a member of your precious aristocracy, you rejected me; but, I realize that it wasn’t your doing. Our fate was in the hands of the Goddess. Neither you, nor I, had any say in the matter.”

“But, what happens to me now? Why this?” I said, indicating my groin. “Why did you take my cock and my balls?”

“The Goddess demands it of all the men who serve her. Even my father is a eunuch. He willingly gave her his genitals.”

“But, I didn’t willingly give mine.”

“As I said, the Goddess demands it. Some give them willingly. From some, they are taken.”

“And, my brother?”

“He, too, in his way, serves the Goddess. She also took his genitals. He did, after all, help us obtain you.”

“You mean-you took his genitals?”

“No, Robert. The Goddess took them. Afterward, I remember nothing of the ceremony. It may have been my body, but it was the Goddess that took your cock and balls. If I could, I would have spared them. I rather enjoyed your cock. I shall miss having it inside of me-for I shall never know another. Yours is the only one that I ever recall seeing-is the only one that I shall ever have. Your loss, you see, is also mine.”

“What happens now-to me, I mean?”

“You’ll remain here to serve the Goddess by serving me. Being the father of Ra, you will be well treated-respected.”

“I won’t live like this. I’ll kill myself.”

“I don’t think so, Robert. You’re in the Goddess’ hands. You won’t die until she decides that it’s time.”

“What about John?”

“He, too, serves-as a servant. You may have him as yours, if you so wish.”

“And, this was all for my seed? There was no group working against England, no plot to embarrass England?”

“Oh, that, too. Someday, England will be driven from our holy land. Pictures will be taken of you and your brother-pictures dipicting your current state. They will be published. The world will know that the Earl of Melvile and his brother are now eunuch slaves. It will demonstrate England’s impotency. Neither of you will ever leave this compound, and no one, outside of our cult, knows of its existence. And, too, our son-your son-will inherit your title and your estates.”

“But, we aren’t married. I’ll never acknowledge him.”

“Oh, but we are married, Robert. Don’t you remember the ceremony on the ship?”

“That wasn’t a real marriage ceremony.”

“It was before Isis, and the Capitan has signed papers verifying that he married us on the ship. They only require your signature.”

“I won’t sign.”

She smiled. “You’ll do anything the Goddess desires, Robert.”

She was right. Under the influence of the drug, I had no will of my own. I did everything asked of me. Pictures were taken of John and me-together-naked. They were published. I was shown the papers. Even if freed, I could have never returned to England. I could have never faced my peers, knowing that they knew what had happened to me-that I was a eunuch.

She had my son. Yes, I acknowledged him. Even without the drug, I would have. A beautiful boy, the product of Isisandra and me, I loved him. The father of Ra-I called him Robert-I was treated well-and there was Isisandra-and her flower-her lotus blossom. It still needed attention. After some years, I no longer thought of England.

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