Initiation Into Love The Sacred Prostitute

by Maggie Tapert

It's a calling really. Like being a priest or a neurosurgeon. Very few people understand what it's actually about but that's OK. I have discovered over time that it's the essence of who I am and that's all that matters to me now. It's brought healing to my body and it's opened my heart into the vastness of the Universe. People try to figure out where this mythical image comes from, where it fits. Men search through their experiences but even in their wildest sexual fantasies they find no clue, no model which will explain it. They ask me: Why? Why would you do this? For money? No. I earn no money here. They search my past for signs of wounding or disappointment that might explain such a departure from what we as a society have accepted as "normal" behaviour for healthy well adjusted women at the end of the 20th century. They cling fiercely to the images they know, of the needy wife or mother who longs for security, partnership, home and family, acceptance in the community, safety, true love. That's the woman that we have learned to know and love. Where does this other inexplicable being spring from, where does she fit, how should we judge her? Do we want her in our community or is she a danger, a threat possibly? Do we dare to tolerate her presence in our midst? Harlot, whore, witch, bitch, slut, nympho, sexual healer, transformer, priestess, goddess - what shall we call her? If we make room for her, in our hearts, in our heads, in our world, what will happen to all our well thought out and established standards and values? If she is truly holy and not profane, what does that do to the firm ground on which we stand?

It was raining like mad that day. I had arranged myself comfortably on the red couch in front of the fireplace with a pile of paper work and journals that had gone unread for the past few months. On top of the pile was a recent copy of a magazine that a friend had sent me. I leafed through it without much interest until I came across an article by a guy who was doing an unusual kind of men's workshop. Jack Bonosol had created a workshop where men would enter what he called the Temple and have an encounter with the Sacred Prostitute. Intrigued, I put down the magazine, walked straight to the phone and within the hour I had managed to locate him and we were chatting away as if we had known each other for years.

I told him right off the bat that I felt certain that my place was in the Temple, that I wanted to be the Holy Whore. I had never done anything even vaguely like this but I felt deeply connected to the role. So when Jack suggested that I attend the next week-end that they were planning, I could hardly wait. Three weeks later we met for the first time.

Jack's team is made up of his wife, Sally, two men who support the men's group and two Sacred Prostitutes. Laura, a 40 years old writer, had worked as a whore briefly when in her twenties. She now lives quietly in the country with her two teenaged daughters and is working on completing her first novel. Julie is a painter and hopes some day to be able to devote more time to art and less time to the business of earning her daily bread.

Other women like me were interested in Bonosol's work. To integrate them into the seminar, Julie, Laura and Sally created what they called a harem; a space for women only, where they could comfortably be together among themselves. The harem traditionally has been a place of safety for women. Adapting this concept to today (leaving out the male domination trip) the course women would live together in a separate space for the seminar. Short visits out of the safe haven were scheduled, under the anonymity of the veil, to observe, interact with and learn more about that most exotic and mysterious of all beasts, MEN.

***

The rules of the harem are clear. We will have freedom of movement within our space but when we go outside the harem, we are to keep silence and remain completely veiled. At first, I cannot imagine how this can possibly work. I learn from Sally that we will become what she calls a representation of female energy. In the game that we are about to play, we are not Maggie, Laura and Julie. We are WOMAN devoid of individual personality. What might this kind of anonymity feel like, I wonder. I am intrigued by the possibilities so I decide to dive right in.

The following morning I suddenly feel the presence of the men in the house. Although we have not seen them yet, I am surprised to discover how dramatically the energy of the place changes when they arrive. I feel it as a physical sensation in my body, a kind of nervousness in the pit of my stomach, excitement mixed with fear. Jack and the team men are busy with them downstairs as I enjoy a last cup of morning coffee and a warm fragrant cinnamon roll, feeling glad now that we are hidden away in our own private woman space. We are six women; the team and two other participants, all beginning to feel excited about what the day might bring. We sit around the table in our robes, without make-up, still yawning occasionally and smiling at one another. It feels comfortable to be with these women. Special and yet somehow, at the same time, completely familiar, as if I had always lived this way in the exclusive company of women.

Sally notices the time and jumps up, "Wow, let's get going. We've got lot's to do". She opens a large suitcase and empties it's contents onto the floor in front of us. Silk scarves and lengths of cloth in every size and color of the rainbow tumble out in a pile. She begins opening other smaller cases filled with makeup and jewellery which she methodically arranges on several low tables. We pull several mattresses over to form a circle around the pile of silk in the middle of the room. Within minutes we are playing dress-up together like little girls.

Helping one another, we somehow manage to get ourselves dressed and veiled but it seems to take forever. I put on a white sheer tunic which rests softly on the points of my breasts. It is almost transparent. The rough texture of my pubic hair is just barely visible through the silky folds of the cloth. When a blue and gold veil is secured, I paint my eyes with a dark kohl pencil and add a thick coat of black mascara. I stand before the mirror and the transformation is really quite amazing. I needed some help getting started with this but now I feel right at home in this harem game. I look around at the other women. It's difficult to identify one another with only our eyes visible. I begin to notice body posture, movement, energy. It seems as if certain individual characteristics are more evident when the face is hidden.

We are ready for our first visit to the men. They know that there are women in the house but they don't know when we will appear or that we will be disguised. We descend the steep steps in bare feet and stand in all our glory in the hall before the seminar room. Suddenly, I feel terrified. Somewhere between my stomach and my intestines, I feel frozen. I can't figure out why I am afraid but I notice that I can hardly breathe. Sally opens the door and we float into the room.

As we enter the sunny space, I see twelve men sitting on couches arranged in a circle. Bonosol is sitting with them in the circle and he stops talking as we come in. The room falls silent. Because we are barefoot, there is only the swishing sound of our garments as we move into the midst of the circle. The team men jump up and arrange cushions on the floor for us. When we are all settled, the room moves again into silence. I watch the men. Some are looking directly at us, some are looking down at the floor or out the window and only sneaking an occasional glance at us. My veil provides me with a hiding place but I begin to feel as if I'm suffocating inside the folds of the silk. Why did I make it so damn tight? Still, no one speaks. I look again at Bonosol. He watches us and the men. Suddenly, he leaps up and walking around the circle he says to the women, "are you comfortable? Is this OK? Do you need another cushion?" Then he sits down in his chair again and the room returns to silence.

"So gentlemen. What were we saying?" Silence. The men seem to be numb. Some unknown terror has struck them dumb. The energy in the room feels heavy. I can hardly breathe. I want to jump up and open a window or move into a more comfortable position but instead, I remain quietly hidden behind my veil. Am I feeling my own fear or is it a sympathetic response to the energy of the men? "I don't know about you guys but my pulse is about 200 right now. Can you feel it too? Amazing!" says Bonosol into the silent room. I turn my head and a man looks directly into my eyes. I look back and hold his gaze until my pounding heart makes me lower my eyes like a shy virgin.

"Feel this, gentlemen. This is how it really feels every time you meet a woman. Maybe you've learned, over time to ignore it. Maybe you've learned how to cover it up with some smooth line so you don't seem like a complete asshole. But this is real. This racing pulse, this clutching at your gut. Oh my god. I don't know about you guys but my body's goin' crazy."

He gets up and starts moving around from one woman to the next inquiring if we are comfortable. "How are your feet? Warm enough?" he asks me, taking my foot in his hand, checking the temperature. His touch is warm and strong. Beautiful sensual hands on this man. "Oh my god. Her feet are frozen!" he says as he turns to the guy sitting just above me on the couch. "You gonna let her just sit here and freeze to death? Come on." The guy jumps down onto the floor and worshipfully begins to touch my feet, fondling and caressing them gently. A middle-aged man with thinning hair and horn-rimmed glasses, he peers up at me occasionally, as if seeking approval. Bonosol moves around the circle bringing the men into contact with the women through their feet. Finally he says, "Let's take a break. The ladies will leave first. Thank you, ladies". I stand up and my guy stands as well. He looks longingly into my eyes and I nod to him and try to communicate my acceptance and appreciation through my eyes. We leave the room and go up the long flight of stairs into our harem.

***

It's Saturday morning. We sit at the breakfast table, again in our robes. It feels like we've been here together forever. We are beginning to plan the Temple ritual which is scheduled for tonight. Laura explains how this tradition has it's roots in a pre-patriarchal culture. Thousands of years ago, when there was a culture of Goddess worship and women were honored in all their aspects, being a temple whore was a calling of great respect. In those days, chosen women consecrated their lives to service in the Temple. She carefully explains the energies of the different Goddesses represented and honored in the Temple; Aphrodite, Isis, Astarte, Hestia, the Great Mother.

Laura tells us that only women who are in service can be present for this ritual. Not knowing what "service" might entail, one of the women asks, "you mean, I would have to have sex with any man who wants me?" When Laura answers affirmatively, a long discussion ensues while each woman reflects on whether or not she is willing to render such service. Both of the other woman are overwhelmed with fear and after a long discussion, it is agreed that they will not participate in the ritual. I listen in silence.

"I want to redefine my role in the Temple. Something has changed in me." As she speaks, we all turn to face Julie. She is one of the Sacred Prostitutes who was expected to serve this evening. Julie finishes speaking. My heart is pounding so loudly that I'm certain it's obvious to all the women in the room. There is a pause, a silence falls on the room. I clear my throat and the women turn to face me. "I want to take Julie's place" I say simply. Sally asks, "Are you sure?" Without any hesitation, I begin to tell them all that I know about me and my place in the Temple. I talk on for a long time and yet I'm not certain of where the words are coming from. It seems as if I've waited forever for this moment, for this whirling dance with both the familiar and the unknown. It is agreed that Julie will act as my initiator tonight as I perform the duties of the Sacred Whore for the first time.

All day we have the ritual in our minds. We begin after lunch to prepare the room. The women throw themselves into the preparations with great enthusiasm decorating the space with beautiful wall hangings and setting up two beds with a sheer curtain around each. I watch the activities and the cheerful faces of the women but I am somehow separate from them. I am acutely aware of my own body. I feel strangely heavy and I have to use the toilet repeatedly throughout the afternoon. I begin to notice that my belly is hot and pulsating in an unusual way. As if my body prepares itself for something that my mind knows nothing about.



After we have bathed, Laura and I lie down for half an hour and the women massage us with a delicious smelling oil. For the first time all day, I begin to relax. The deep strokes and the loving hands help me to get grounded again. The women are so kind and supportive. I love their touch and long to just stay in the safety of their presence. Too soon their hands retreat and again I sense the time speeding by. Then we dress. Laura in black underwear and I in white. We both wear a tight corset that pinches at the waist and stockings. We are each given a simple black dress without ornament to put on over our underwear and a dark lace veil. When we are completely dressed, we look almost identical.

The women form a circle around us and we offer a prayer to the Goddess, calling down a blessing on the evenings activities.

Oh Lady! Great Goddess! Mother of all that is!
Shower your blessings of light on this our ritual
act of love! Open our hearts to all who seek
you truly! May acts of pleasure be your perfect
worship forever more!

Julie steps forward and puts a talisman around my neck. "I have always worn this" she says to me. "It's an image of Isis. It belongs to you now. May the Goddess bless you."

The women leave us and we take our seats; like two dark queens we await the arrival of the men. Julie has a couch for herself in the back of the room. She appears to be contented with this newly emerging role. Laura and I look at one another and smile through our veils. She squeezes my hand as the door opens and the men file softly into the Temple.

***

Each man enters with a gift in hand. They come forward, one by one, and present these small tokens. I can see in their expressions that they are somewhat awed by the Temple that we have created and they approach us very respectfully. They have each taken an alias for the evening and they introduce themselves as they kneel before us with their gift. "Good evening. I'm Vladimir" says a big sandy-haired man. He's solid and strong and he looks directly into my eyes when he speaks. He is dressed for a special occasion and has a silk bow tie over a crisp white shirt. He puts a single rose in my hand. "Goddess blessings on you Vladimir," I reply. "My name is Isis." For the first time I speak and a palpable rush of power comes over me as I realize that I have taken on the identity of another and no one questions it. Not even me.

When all the gifts have been placed on the altar, Laura begins a seductive game to get the men out of their clothes. I marvel at her grace and charm. My mouth feels dry and sticky and I'm already sweating from nervousness. The men are nervous too but she manages to get one piece of clothing after another from them until they are all down to their shorts and a big heap of shirts and pants are piled in the corner. Vladimir is naked but keeps on his bow tie. He too is playing a role for the occasion and seems to be enjoying it immensely. He speaks with a Russian accent, staying completely in character as the evening progresses.

Music begins. Earlier today, I had carefully chosen a piece from Annie Lennox's DIVA album. Sultry is the word and it puts me right in the mood. I stand up from my chair and for the first time in my life, I do a striptease. The men are seated on cushions on the floor and I pace back and forth in front of them in a pair of very high heels. Mesmerised, they gaze up at me like boys on their first scouting trip. I feel confident, strong, unafraid to show them my body, to show them who I really am.

The little matching panties are cut high in back and reveal my buttocks as I turn. I come close putting my shoe into the crotch of one man. I gently press the pointy heel into him and he raises his arms and caresses my stockinged leg very gently. He toys with the garter but doesn't dare to unfasten it. I move to the next man, petting his balding head. I lean forward and bury his face in my breast. I feel his body trembling but I don't know if he's in terror or enjoying himself. I guide his hands to the elastic of my panties and he slowly lowers them to the floor while the other men howl. He laughs nervously at the men and then smiles up at me. I step out of them and kick them away. I am sweating heavily and I can smell my own scent rising. It smells very sexy and animal like and it makes me hungry.

I feel how the men are making a choice between Laura and me. They watch us both but I can feel which ones are riveted by my presence. Some seem overwhelmed, almost frightened by me but I feel strong and joyful and I don't hold back. I am in some kind of an energy stream that I don't recognize. I feel ecstatic, wild, uncontrolled, like I might start to scream soon or have an orgasm just from the joy of being alive with all these men watching me. The music is coming to an end so I disengage and stand before them for an instant, still in my corset. With both hands, I throw a kiss, feeling like Marilyn Monroe and then move to my bed. The men cheer and Vladimir shouts "Bravo! Bravo! Encore!" as he applauds loudly.

Laura and I get settled on our beds. The men are grouped at the far end of the room. From where they sit on cushions on the floor, they have a clear view of us through the thin curtain that surrounds our beds. It is both seductive and terrifying for them. They can watch another man making love to the priestess but they will also be observed when they take their turn. Nervous, excited, thrilled, hungry and turned on all at once, I can't imagine anything better than this. I'm having the time of my life!

The first man comes to my bed. He stands there looking shyly through the curtain and waits for an invitation before climbing in beside me. "I'm Ullyses." he says bashfully. He is probably in his early 40's and not bad looking with dark hair and tanned skin. He still has his powder blue jockey shorts on but I can see there is a lump of erect cock hiding inside. I feel nervous but I realize that he is more terrified than I so I decide to take the lead. "You want to take off your pants?" I ask him and without a word he removes them and lays down beside me. I still have my corset on. I take off my lacy gloves and lay them neatly beside my supply of condoms and the bottle of astroglide. I feel excited and nervous all at once. I am not sure what I should do to help him relax so I decide to just be still and let him touch me. He begins to stroke my arm and then my breast and by his touch I can tell that he is inexperienced. His hands feel clammy as they jump around on my skin. I remain still allowing him to investigate my body in silence. Then I turn toward him and gently put my hand on his hard cock. Instantly, he comes. I feel the wetness and I am confused. He's ashamed and says, "I should have told you. I was so excited. I have a problem with waiting." Disappointment comes over us both. And embarrassment. Not a very auspicious start to the evening. Is this my fault? He lays beside me with a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and I can't think of much to say to console him. The whole thing took less than five minutes.

As he leaves my bed, I feel the urge to cry coming over me. I feel like such a failure. It must be all my fault! As I slide further toward self pity, Julie appears behind me. She feels my disappointment and tells me that the men will comfort him and there will be others for me still to come this evening. She touches me gently and begins to massage my shoulders. She reminds me that what happened is his problem not mine. This is about him, not me. The men have come here to the Temple to learn. About themselves and what it is that keeps them stuck. They must draw their own conclusions from their acts. They must come to understand their own patterns. I am the sacred vessel in which they learn their lesson. I give the gift. They must learn how to receive it. Bobby from the men's team comes with an ice cold towel and begins to wipe me down like a horse after the grand derby. It feels heavenly because I am so overheated and sticky. He puts a glass of champagne in my hand and offers me a date stuffed with a walnut. I let Ulysses go completely from my mind and focus instead on the simple pleasure of sipping champagne. The urge to cry passes and I feel myself connect again with that kernel of joy inside me. Finally Bobby says "ready for the next one?" and before I know it, my next man is standing before the curtain.

They are as different as night and day. This new man is not tall but he is well built and rugged with dark blond hair. He moves into my space and takes over instantly with full confidence. He is like a hungry man ready for a feast. Everything in me awakens as he sweeps me up into a passionate embrace. His excitement is contagious and we begin to laugh and giggle together without words. He is touching me everywhere; searching my body to find out who I am, to know me. "Can I take off your corset?" he asks excitedly and begins to unhook it from behind. As it falls away and my breasts tumble out, he devours them. He sucks and kisses each nipple until it stands up erect then he moves down kissing my belly. "God you're so lovely," he says in a drunken voice. I feel like I'm in love for the first time. His touch is familiar yet somehow thrillingly new. "Can I lick you?" he asks and he lowers himself between my legs and begins to lick and suck my pussy as his fingers search for an opening. Who is this man? What's going on? I do nothing. I just lie back and enjoy myself as I watch this stranger adoring me. Me? Is he adoring me or is it the Goddess that lives in me? The wild unrestrained free being that hides inside my flesh? The part of me that flows free and opens to all - that's the temple at which he now worships - make no mistake. I deeply enjoy his attentions and begin to pant with mounting excitement. I open my eyes and see all the men watching in silence from the other end of the room. Some have stood up for a better view. Being observed while a stranger gives me such intimate pleasuring sends me into an ecstatic orgasm and suddenly I am shouting and laughing with unrestrained joy. When I am finally still, he sits up with a smile on his face and a magnificent hard-on. I hand him a condom from my pile and he tears the packet with his teeth and with great concentration rolls the thin sheath over his cock. He smiles again, ready for the joust.

I look over and see Laura's butt bouncing in the air as she expertly fucks someone on the other bed. The scene is rich and unrestrained. I look up at my partner, he puts his cock gently inside me and we try to find our rhythm. It feels heavenly for the first few minutes and then I notice that he is becoming soft. He pulls out and pensively begins to stroke my labia with his half hard cock. We don't speak. While I am contemplating what to do next, Julie appears silently behind him. "Just relax" she says to us and she begins to massage his lower back with some oil. He groans with pleasure. She lets some oil run down between the cheeks of his buttocks and with an expert hand begins to massage his scrotum and his anus. He is on his hands and knees over me and his eyes drop closed. She continues to caress him from behind and his cock becomes rigid again. He begins to pant and push his butt backward against her probing hands. "Go inside her now," she says to him in a whisper. He opens his eyes and lowers his bursting cock to the entrance of my yoni. He begins to thrust inside me and Julie continues to press somewhere below his butt cheeks. She stays right with it and smiles sweetly at me through her sheer red veil. This woman knows what she's doing! He comes with a deep roar of pleasure and collapses on top of me. The men cheer from the other side of the room and the three of us laugh like children.

I watch the men from my bed and I am completely at peace. I realize that I have no desire to know this man beyond tonight. I have experienced something wonderful with him but I am content to completely release him. I actually feel joy about this letting go. The men are huddled together and they occasionally laugh and make unintelligible sounds and slap one another on the back. I do not want to be there. I feel happy to know that I can make love without belong to him or anyone else. I feel happy that I can rest on my bed, smelling the sweet sensual aromas of lust and I don't need to talk to anyone. I feel very quiet. I feel that I love this man, love all the men. I linger for a moment in a love that lets go and sets free. I am full of joy.

Vladimir peeks in through the curtain of my bed. I am delighted to see him with his sweet bow tie still neatly tied around his neck. He carries a small bottle of champagne and as he climbs onto my bed he says in his finest Russian accent, "Darling, let's have a drink." He picks up one of my shiny high-heeled pumps lying beside the bed and fills it to the brim with champagne. He offers me the first sip and dispite the scent of aged shoe leather, it tastes delicious. The ripe smell of my body rises to my nostrils and I enjoy it immensely. I feel none of my usual disgust at body odour, on the contrary, I feel both lusty and feminine. Vladimir says that he doesn't want to fuck tonight, "lets just talk" he suggests. I lean back and watch him. He lets his hand rest easily on my thigh. He sips champagne and moves his hand up to my pussy. As he talks to me, he caress my labia and then one finger gently massages my clitoris. I don't take my eyes from his face and he chats on about mythology, the world, the Goddess, all the while hands and fingers are gently seducing me. I feel so completely relaxed and feel no obligation to do a thing. I am just present with him, sensually receiving what he wants to share with me. His touch tells me that he's very familiar with women's bodies. He is smooth and self-assured. As he finishes the champagne, he finishes me as well. He kisses me on both cheeks and then on my mouth. He puts my shoe on my foot and then holds me for a long moment in a loving embrace. "Thank you. I shall never forget you," he says to me. He walks happily back to the men's group and is received into their circle.

The evening is nearly over. Laura still has a guy with her and I watch as she plays with him, loathe to have it come to an end. I feel a deep contentment as I look around the room. Julie appears beside me and interrupts my reverie. "You are a real priestess! You were great!" she says enthusiastically and I am delighted with her praise. When Laura is finally finished, we stand together with Julie and face the men. Arm in arm, some naked, some in their shorts, they gaze back at us. I feel an amazing amount of respect and appreciation radiating in both directions. We say good-night and send them off with Goddess blessings.

***

Bonosol doesn't come into the Temple. "That's women's territory. I don't belong in there," he tells me. So the following morning, the men meet with him to relate their experiences. We women come down from the harem, still fully veiled, anxious to hear the feed-back from the men. It's a time of tenderness and deep self-awareness for most of the men. They share with honesty their successes and their perceived defeats. Bonosol listens with interest, now and then asking a question or sharing an insight. I feel privileged to hear these men share so intimately. I am very moved as one by one in different ways they express their appreciation of the Sacred Prostitute and all that they learned about themselves in the Temple.

Two weeks later, a post card arrives which the office has forwarded to my home address. It is a reproduction of The Lovers by Rodin. The message reads, "To my dearest Isis. Thank you for a most wonderful evening in your arms. You received me with an open heart. What a treasure that is, I shall never forget you. Thank you my darling, Vladimir." I read the text over and over and I feel those hot tears again collecting behind my eyes. Only this time, I let them slide down my cheek. It doesn't seem inappropriate. And I don't feel like a silly child. No, I feel like a big woman. I have found some part of me which I had been waiting to explore. I have entered into a place that I am familiar with, a territory in which I know how to navigate. The tears are warm on my cheek and I just let them be.

This first Temple took place more than two year ago. Since then, I have traveled extensively and met many wonderful men and women within the context of these sacred rituals. I am thankful for these meetings which have expanded my understanding of sexual healing and have allowed me to grow personally into real freedom and autonomy. May the journey continue and may it be filled with joy and self acceptance, not just for me but for all those that I chance to meet along the way.