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BDSM MFM Continuing Story.
Euryale was well satisfied. Jiri was not musclebound, but had pleasing and delicate features, not quite effeminate. She had posed him in an attitude of supplication, with his head up as if appealing for help from above. Standing behind him, she wrapped her fingers around his penis and examined his face in the mirror.
By now, all feeling had left Jiri's body, and even his terror had fled. He had some time to reflect on the manner of Euryale's theft of his body. Was his lost life wasted? Was he now forever under the control of this woman? Would she be a merciful mistress?
Only the strength of his love for her remained, and it continued to burn and grow inside him as the minutes passed. Euryale continued to gaze at him, as if expecting some sign.
It started like a spark, coursing up and down his spine. His penis twitched at the shock of the return of feeling, and Euryale felt the expected commencement of her magic, and she smiled.
A strange feeling of expectation flowed over his body: every muscle began to stretch, and a sensation of great velocity, more like running than falling, confused Jiri, who was as still as ever. The feeling grew, until Jiri felt quite exhausted as if he had been sprinting for his life. Soon this feeling passed, leaving his muscles taut and well-defined.
A great feeling of lassitude then supervened, and the burn in Jiri's muscles became a comfortable fatigue. The strange excitation that had accompanied his finger's transformation began to return, but instead of occurring in an instant, this time it began as a small pinprick of joy within his groin. This feeling of ecstasy quietened all his thoughts, and began to build. Tendrils of liquid warmth began to seep through all his veins and arteries, before they started to strike in and dissolve his bones and strike through his skin.
For the first time since movement had been taken from him, Jiri tried to move. He struggled desperately against the bonds of magic that were constraining him, and tried to scream. His eyes locked onto Euryale's in the mirror, and he saw her look of triumph. As he struggled, he began to welcome the opposition of the magical bonds. Each time he pushed against them, a wave of desire for release would roll across him. The strength and intensity of each wave kept increasing until, when he thought his body would break into a thousand pieces, the final wave crashed over him. Its power did not cease, and he watched as under Euryale's hand his penis began to change to stony marble. As the petrification passed over his body, the internal struggle was quieted and only the cloying ecstasy was left behind. As the petrification reached his face, his consciousness fled.
When consciousness returned, Jiri could see himself in the wall mirror, posed and beautiful. His skin did not yet have the grey, dull tone of the other statues, yet he still could not move. Jiri stood in that studio for several days, the constant feeling nourishing him and carrying him through time, content in Euryale's love, relishing the lappings of ecstasy that still consumed him, without any thought of protest.
One morning, however, he was disturbed by a frantic knocking at the front door. He looked out to see the frantic face of a young woman. She peered in, her hands shading her face, hoping to see inside.
The young woman was Helen, the young student that had left the party so mysteriously. He now guessed that Euryale had not been idle, and Helen would be trying to catch a glimpse of the terrible creature who had captured her emotions. At one point she smiled as her gaze alighted on Jiri's frozen form, but the expression on her face, rather than indicating the recognition of a welcome acquaintance, indicated only the appreciation of a clever artifice.
He sensed, rather than heard, Euryale's exclamation of joy from the back of the studio.
As he saw Euryale lead Helen into the studio, he surrendered.