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This story contains M/M sex, masturbation, edging, and magically hyper-orgasmic goodness involving consenting adults. :3

[center][b][u]The Disciples of Ecstasy[/u][/b][/center]

"Nnnh... please. It's time, right? It h-hhhahhh... it has to be time now. I can't... o-oh god. I can't take it any longer..."

Bound in velvet lined brass manacles to the chamber's wall upon a raised dais, the lithe Egyptian fruit bat flexed his winged arms, tugging helplessly against his restraints while helplessly bucking his hips against thin air. He whimpered and grunted as he stared through bloodshot, wide eyes at his own frantically spasming cock, rock hard, long, thin and drooling a near constant stream of thick, translucent pre-cum. A moment later though his eyes darted upward, and stared beyond the tip of his obscenely aroused erection to the figures standing in front of him. His friends. His most cherished companions. His lovers, each and every one of them. Yet as they stood there, naked, fur and scales painted with the same ancient script as his own, they made no effort to answer his question. To reassure or comfort him. He wailed in anguish and began to struggle harder. He wanted to be here. He did. He understood what they were all trying to achieve and the role he had to play in that, but it was too much. Someone else could take on his position, surely. Someone with more willpower. Someone who could bear the twelve hours that he had believed he was capable of enduring, and yet so clearly couldn't.

"Please!! Ronan, Jeffrey... Marco, Nima! O-ohhhh, Lawrence, Saito, s-someone! [i]Anyone![/i] I need to cum! I need to cum [b]now![/b]"

The bat shrieked in feverish lust as he began to buck his hips far more forcefully against the open air in front of him, arms and legs bound in metal and held tight enough against the wall of the chamber in which they were standing that there was absolutely no way for him to grant his erection any meaningful stimulation against any other object. All he could do was fuck the space around his cock and pray that the urgent twitching of his hips alone would be enough to carry him over the edge. After all, he had been hanging there, on the very brink of orgasm, for what had to have been well over ten of the dozen hours required for the ritual already. It had been fun at first. The rituals they performed together in their little group, their cult to Ecstasy Embodied, the Lord of Pleasure, were always obscene and gloriously erotic, and this was no different in that regard. What was different this time however was that the gratification they were normally encouraged to seek out in abundant extremes in their worship was delayed. It was denied purposefully so that the energy gathered, and so the final offering made to Ecstasy Embodied would be so much more potent. And though rationally speaking Omar knew that what he was feeling now was proof that the ritual was working as intended, it still didn't change the fact that he was utterly unaccustomed to waiting to satisfy himself. He and his friends were disciples of Ecstasy. They were servants to sweet, indulgent excess. Denial wasn't in their vocabulary, and it was something that while it had sounded fun on paper, especially given the promised results, he had found himself to be unable to see through to its conclusion.

"Please! Please I'm so fucking close! Just... just one squeeze from one of your paws. One lick from a tongue. Ohhh, just... just slap one cock against mine, just for a split-second, that's all it'll take! It'll feel so damn good, guys..."

No matter how much he begged though, the others just stood there in front of him, blushing, panting, whimpering and trembling as they themselves watched his cock bounce and strain, and held out one hand apiece, one arm each, holding onto a cup. They weren't rich and powerful people, so rather than jewelled goblets or pure crystal glasswear, their cups were a mixture of coffee mugs, plain glass tumblers, and a handful of red solo cups left over from a recent party in the dorm where their ritual chamber was located, tucked away in a corner of the basement forgotten by all but them. Ecstasy Embodied cared not for material wealth or the value of the objects used in their rituals. All they cared about was the intent of their worshippers. The unashamed hunger for pleasure that burned within their hearts was all that Ecstasy Embodied asked of them, and the fulfilment of that hunger was all they offered in return. No riches. No divine eternity beyond this life. Just the assurance that with suitable devotion, that life could be one of rapturous heaven on earth, full of euphoria and satisfaction without bounds.

At least, that was what Omar had believed up until then. Until today, as he thrashed and wailed and watched his dearest friends greedily holding out their cups to catch his abundantly dribbling pre-cum, to fill them to the brim as the ritual dictated, without the slightest concern for his own unmet needs. Worse still, they were enjoying it. Seeing him getting more and more frantic, more and more obscenely overwhelmed by his unfulfilled need to cum. They were all rock hard. They were all dripping and drooling themselves. Nima was in an almost trance-like state, rocking his own hips in a lustful echo of Omar's own as the grey rat's surprisingly long, uncut cock oozed and spurted periodically with glistening streaks of almost transparent pre. Lawrence's scaled fingers upon his free hand were in his toothy maw, the alligator flicking his tongue over his digits as he made direct eye contact with Omar, either teasing the bat with deliberate glee, or perhaps just satisfying his oral fixation with his own fingers so that he didn't immediately lunge forward and assist Omar as his friend was demanding. Almost a dozen other bodies beyond those two crowded around the writhing bat, shifting back and forth in the mass of naked fur, scales and throbbing, aching flesh to give one another a chance to fill up their cups with the now even more obscenely copious floods of pre-cum Omar was producing. Even though they were more than friends, more than family to one another though, no-one made the slightest move to free Omar. No-one took pity on him. No-one granted him the freedom he was begging for, and though outwardly he was wailing and screaming for mercy as his needy cock burned and his balls throbbed with the abundance of cum sloshing inside them, deep, deep down within himself, Omar could only thank them for their strength, and for listening to what he had told them earlier when thinking clearly, rather than now while at the mercy of the magic holding him on the very edge of release.

'[i]No matter what I say, no matter how much I beg and swear that I can't take it, that I want to be let go... please. Please, in the name of Ecstasy Embodied, I'm begging you all... don't let me go. Don't let me quit early. We all want this. We all want to experience his true blessing, but... o-oh god, none of us want it more than our cult's biggest and neediest slut. None of us want it more than me![/i]'

And because they listened, because they trusted in their dear friend and the most shameless, gloriously devoted slut of Ecstasy Embodied that any of them knew, all the disciples were rewarded mere minutes later. All of them cried out in stunned, overwhelmed wonder as despite having spent every moment of the last twelve hours counting down to this second, they were somehow shocked to hear a chime sound when finally the countdown reached its end. Without exception every member of the cult looked over to one side of the dais to see a plump Shetland pony, Iain, one of their group's founding members and a senior just months away from graduating and leaving their college dorm behind, standing beside a hanging set of glass chimes with a soft rubber tipped mallet in one hand and his own already full mug of Omar's pre-cum in the other. As soon as he had everyone's attention, he raised his mug high within his left hand, and uttered not a prayer, but a simple toast to his companions.

"To Ecstasy, may it never end!"

"[i][b]May it never end![/b][/i]"

A dozen voices, Omar's shrill, strained whimpers amongst them, answered in unison. Just like that they all raised their cups and mugs and glasses up high, and then, with their words trailing off into a series of indulgent grunts, gurgles and slurps, they began to greedily gulp down the obscene volumes of pre-cum they had spent the last dozen hours collecting from Omar's ceaselessly needy cock. They drank down every last drop of essence that had been teased and coaxed and edged from Omar without pause, without fatigue or overstimulation, by the magic of Ecstasy Embodied, and as each and every one of them consumed their share of twelve hours of pent up, unfulfilled rapture, the painted markings upon Omar's trembling, bound, still helplessly humping form began to glow. Their own painted bodies began to shine with a similar supernatural luminescence a mere instant later, and even as they finished slurping and licking the last droplets of salty-sweet pre from their respective vessels, it was all the followings of Ecstasy Embodied could do not to immediately drop their cups to the floor. Like Omar, they too were suddenly overcome by the same intensity of desire, the same unbridled anguish of twelve long hours without satisfaction, without the slightest hope of orgasm despite it being perpetually a hair's breadth away. But unlike Omar, they weren't manacled to a wall. They weren't restrained in any way.

They were free to do as they wished. To do as their bodies urged them to, and as they knew their companions, their dearly cherished lovers here would welcome them doing without hesitation.

With a dozen frenzied, simultaneous screams and snarls and roars and howls of rapture, with cocks already lurching, and thick ropes of cum already pouring forth before a single hand or other body part could reach out to grasp their overwhelmed erections, the cult burst into a truly mindless orgy. Already cumming, already shrieking and yelping and grunting in obscenely indulgent pleasure, there was no time to pair off. No time to decide on positions or techniques. Bodies entangled and humped against the nearest section of fur or scales they could find not attached to their own body. Eyes crossed. Saliva dripped from gaping, slack-jawed muzzles. They drove themselves together in a formless heap of twitching, writhing flesh and spasming, spurting cocks, and rubbed, and humped, and thrust their way through some of the most mindlessly all consuming orgasms of their entire lives, while Omar hung limp in his restraints, still bound, still unable to touch himself and seemingly forgotten by his companions just feet away.

Even as the bat dangled by his wrists and ankles though, not entirely limp in reality to spare his wrists having to bear the weight of his entire, albeit slim frame, but definitely sagging forward as far as the wall-affixed manacles would allow, his pleading cries had ceased and his expression of desperate longing was long gone. Instead, his muzzle was open and panting, and his eyes though still wide and glazed over, now burned with a singular expression of divine zealotry.

"Mmh... may it never... end..."

He half gasped, half giggled drunkenly as his hips twitched, his cock strained, and the flow of pre-cum gushing ceaselessly from his tip in that moment grew thicker, richer, creamy white and more abundant still. The bat whimpered. He squealed. He screamed an almighty, gleeful scream as his cock gave one more almighty twitch, and a geyser of cum as abundant and relentless as the flow of a garden hose began to spray forth all over his many simultaneously orgasmic lovers.

"Yessss, ohhh sweet Lord of Pleasure, oh! Ohhhh [i]yesssss...[/i]"

Omar's toes curled, his fingers flexed and his wing membranes trembled as the flood of cum just went on and on, unrelenting and undiminished in its obscene volume. Through heavy lidded eyes he watched it bathing his companions. Soaking them. He listened to them crying out not just with pleasure, but with laughter, with joyous elation as they each eagerly drenched themselves in Omar's ceaseless cum. They were still cumming too of course, but though their orgasms were back to back and every bit as free from any hint of coming to an end as the bat's own, they were still expelling a relatively normal amount of cum with each climax, and deep down they all instinctively knew that if they moved out of the flood of Omar's seed for too long, their own bodies would cease to cum in a matter of mere minutes.

For as long as they remained there together though, bathing in the bat's essence, writhing, wrestling, sucking, fucking, pleasuring themselves and one another within the reach of his boundless torrents of cum, Ecstasy Embodied's blessing would be theirs for many hours to come. After all, Ecstasy Embodied did not deny. They did not tease and withhold from their followers, and thus because Omar had held back willingly in the Lord of Pleasure's name for a dozen hours, each of those hours would be repaid in kind, with the excess spilling over to all those who had imbibed Omar's pre-cum, and who freely surrendered themselves to the copious gouts of cum now erupting from the divinely touched bat.

Nima squealed as he peeled back the foreskin of his already spurting cock and shakily lined it up with Ronan's backside as the Irish setter knelt on all fours, panting, whining, milking his own knot and flooding the ground beneath him with cum while Omar's seed splashed across his back. Lawrence hissed and tilted his head back, eyes closed, maw wide open as he gulped down mouthful after toothy mouthful of Omar's cum, jerking his cum-slicked cock obsessively all the while. Saito mewled hungrily into Marco's crotch, the black and white cat nodding feverishly when mere moments later the squirrel begged for the feline's already cumming cock inside him, and soon craned his neck upward to press his panting maw against the cat's moaning, dripping muzzle. Ian and Jeffrey stood face to face, foreheads resting together and one arm draped around the other man's body as the chubby, burly Shetland pony and curvaceously twinky fox rubbed the tips of their spasming, spurting cocks together and painted one another's already seed-streaked chests even more completely white with cum. They and the others who comprised the cult to Ecstasy Embodied indulged themselves and one another without hesitation, without compromise. If there was any way for them to feel better, they did it. If there was anything they could do to make those around them feel hotter and cum harder, they spared no energy to make it happen. And all the while, Omar shuddered, and wailed, and watched, and came with unceasing, explosively abundant force and volume. Not just living out every orgasm he should have been owed for the last half a day all at once, not just admiring the results of what his cum was doing to his lovers and fellow devotees, but feeling their pleasure alongside his. Feeling every experience, every emotion, every desire of all those who had drunk down his pre-cum in Ecstasy Embodied's name, just as they would feel his boundless, endless orgasmic rapture for as long as they remained in contact with so much as a single droplet of its boundlessly flowing essence.

The others screamed to one another in their pleasure. Every so often one of them even cried out to Omar himself. But on the rare occasions the bat was coherent enough to scream even a single word amidst more mindlessly orgasmic screams and shrieks, there was only one name, only one source to which he could bring himself to cry out.

He screamed to Ecstasy Embodied.

He screamed to his beloved god in thanks for this blessing, and of course, he screamed Ecstasy Embodied's most scared, devout prayer to the Lord of Pleasure, too.

"[i]More!![/i] Ohhhhhh fuckyessss, [b]yesssss, my Lord! [i]Give us more!![/b][/i]"

By Jeeves