Blue Sea, Green Earth, Red Sky

My titties hung over the edge of the plank, swinging and swirling, slapping against one another with the rhythmic pounding I was receiving between my forced apart legs. Smasher was building up his pelvic thrusts at a furious, fanatical pace. His cock was crashing between the folds of my soft, feminine flesh, driving my intensity higher as he drove deep into my flying pussy.

I rocked through the air, suspended on the ropes and plank, guided by the hands of a highly aroused Smasher. My orgasm was winding tight at my core, I was dizzy. My sexual buzzing felt like confetti bubbling below the surface until it popped and fluttered all through me. The fizzy, whirly feelings pushed me toward the edge of my point of no return. Smasher's grinding fucking rocked me, every plunge of his rigid organ ratcheted up my excitement. With uncontrollable chirps and moans falling from my goddess-inspired lips, my hot orgasm was rising within my core, growing and heating me up into an over-inflated bubble of craven desire. Once I exploded, I would burst into a thousand pieces as I rattled and flittered down from the heights of my orgasmic state.

Smasher ripped into my nectar-dripping vagina with voracious grunts. I was overcome by the fiery thunder rolling through my body, I gasped for air to feed my orgasmic scream. My lungs puffed, making pleading sounds as my pussy quivered with the twanging reverberations of a plucked spring. Smasher pushed my free-swinging platform away from himself before he brought me back to his waiting prick, harpooning my poontang with a hearty, hard thrust. He tensed his loins, forced himself deeper into my wetness, shaking as he too found release and exploded his masculine seed into my inner sanctum as an offering to the feminine deity who had come and dwelt within me. Sticky, hot semen oozed from my worked over holy pussy, dribbling across my once private places, trailing in cooling rivulets down my belly.

As soon as I bellowed in delighted anguish and Smasher had creamed my quivering quim; the shaman doused his circles and lines etched in the sand with a large bowl of seawater. Erasing the magical marks and sealing the divine prophecy he'd read from my grunts, screams and moans. I did not realize it at that moment, but that was just the prophecy for the realm of the blue sea. It was yet to be foretold as to what these people could expect from the realms of the green earth and red sky.

I was lowered to the sand; my inner delicate parts were still jittery. They felt hot and stretched out, but they were calming down now that the erotic oracle has spoken. All the men quietly disappeared, leaving me wondering if I had been a good oracle or not.

As soon as the men were gone, the women gathered around me, they were in jubilant mood; making me think that I had somehow been a good conduit of the divine and that my mystical message had forecast good fortune for these people. I was lifted and carried into the sea. My usual three attendants came to me and washed my body, cleaning me up in the surf as the rest of the women danced, chanted and sang from the shore. I was dressed and fed as the festivities continued around me. Maybe it sounds strange, but I was proud of myself. I had gained the women's approval by my actions. I had been a good oracle girl; I had been a great sacrificial fuck. Everyone was happy, even me.

I wondered if I had truly been possessed by the spirit of their goddess. My emotional experience argued that I had never felt anything like that before, so maybe I had been possessed. Or maybe it was the forbidden excitement of being tied up, a sex prisoner of these men and the realization of a latent fantasy of being stripped naked, tied onto a sex swing and fucked voraciously as a helpless, captive girl. I assumed I had had my wild jungle ride and I'd now be released to Margaret and Dr. Friday. No one in my party came to get me that evening. I told myself that I'd be reunited with Margaret in the morning.

I was awakened and rose with the sun. A meal had been prepared for me. I ate it with the expectation that Margaret and Dr. Friday would be allowed to visit me this morning and we could make our way off this island. Instead, I was undressed and led into the sea. My attendants washed me, dried me and oiled my skin. I was wrapped in a new skirt dyed with a rich green, matching the jungle foliage growing around me on the island. My attendants draped me in a cape that was covered in a beautiful pattern made of fresh flowers sewn onto its back. I thought it was the most beautiful garment a girl could ever hope to wear. I was a queen. I believed this was my reward for being a prophetess of good fortune yesterday. I expected I would lead a triumphant parade through the village and then be released with the shaman's blessing.

Instead, I was paraded to the center of the round sanctuary as I had been the day before. I was forced to reassess my situation. I was relieved that I wasn't thrown into a volcano, but I abandoned my fantasy of being the flowered beauty queen who dispensed holy omens of good fortune. I was forced to admit, I didn't understand what was happening to me this morning.

Yesterday I had been ceremonially undressed, bound with ropes and fucked hard by Mister Smasher; I had spoken under the influence of their goddess' spirit while the pagan priest cast his lots on the sacred sand under my swaying breasts. I was under the impression that the future had already been foretold. I thought we were done - but I was wrong. It wasn't over for me.

The men had broken the taboo and returned to the women's cove this morning, standing along the back edge of the shelter.

The familiar fermented juice was handed to me. I drank it from a bowl as I had the day before. The bowl was taken from my hands and placed upside down on the stone in front of me as an offering.

A young, wiry warrior stepped to the stone and with a single, pulverizing stroke of his club, he sent the pieces of that bowl flying. My name for this guy was 'Basher'.

The feathered master of ceremonies circled the enclosure once before he crawled on his knees over to examine the pattern of the busted stoneware. He took to his feet, having read some import into the random pattern of broken pottery; he uttered an invocation, which was the cue for the drummers to pound out a heavy throbbing bass beat to start today's ceremony. The intense rhythm synchronized with the growing emotional throbbing filling my chest. Three naked young men, painted in blue, green and red moved toward me, dancing, shaking and spinning. The boy's beautifully colored bodies swirled and twirled to my delight and racing imagination.

I was swept under the intoxicating spell of the drum beats echoing at my center, the erotic display of the painted young men skipping around me and the potent effect of the bowl's drained contents on my mind and muscles. It was déjà vu all over again.

Two of the three young ladies who had been attending to me, danced over to me, removing the fresh floral cape from my shoulders, leaving my chest bare. Two men came beside me, pulling my hands away from my breasts as I attempted to cover myself, securing my hands inside a pair of slip-knot looped ropes. The ropes were cinched and my arms hoisted. Separate ropes were fitted around my ankles. I was strapped and trapped for a second day running. My lush, green skirt was taken off my hips, forcing me to stand stark naked in front of the old shaman.

I didn't like the way I was being treated. I had an inkling as to what was in store for me, based on yesterday's experience. I might have been open to the suggestion to play nice and be a proper stand-in for their earth goddess, but I sure as hell didn't think I needed to be tied up hand and foot like a feral piglet. A girl might be willing to be ceremonially fucked for the good of the village, allowing herself to speak of the future; but I was given no choice but to be dominated by burly men under their customs.

My two girls dipped their fingers into pots of slick, bright green pigment and began painting my exposed skin. Unlike yesterday's blue paint job, the green color was applied above my waist, covering my back, belly and my left breast. The girl in front added the coup de grâce, she ran her green-tinted fingers around my moistening labia, marking a verdant target between my legs. Leaving my right breast unpainted after coloring the rest of my torso, they walked away.

The third of my attending maidens came and knelt between me and Basher, facing him. She took hold of his loincloth, pulling it away to reveal his thickening virility. I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was, but I found myself again shocked to see her reach up and take his masculinity between her lips and lavish him with her engrossing, sensuous lips. My first blush of forbidden embarrassment bloomed into the flushed heat of rapt, voyeuristic thrills as she poured her feminine spirit upon his swelling shaft. Basher responded to her strokes with a ready and magnificent erection.

Swift yanks on the ropes hauled me into the center of the action, pulling me into the air where I hung suspended by all fours. A fine-meshed hammock was raised from under me, supporting my back and shoulders several feet off the sand floor. Another tug on the ropes around my ankles pulled my legs apart, exposing my green pussy to Basher and his bobbing, bad boy jungle sausage. It too had been smeared in today's fashion-forward color, a bright green pigment.

The drummers stopped, a heavy hush fell around the open space. Silence hung in the air along with me, the naked oracle, waiting to give voice to the goddess's telling of the future. Facing upward, I couldn't see behind me, but I could hear the chants of the pagan priest as he squatted among his sacred circles drawn in the ground just beyond my head.

Looking beyond my upturned tits, I saw Basher take two steps toward me with his proud, pigmented penis leading the way. I could do nothing but moan as Basher gripped my hips, driving his great green weenie through me. I was filled. I was possessed. I felt swoopy and believed my body had not only been taken physically by Basher, but in his act of driving into my void, I'd been filled at that instant by the spiritual presence of the feminine deity.

Basher's first thrust wedged apart my feminine flesh. A surprise gasp shot from my lungs, carrying an expansive moan across my lips along with my escaping breath. I paid no heed to the medicine man as he cast his bones behind me; I was only interested in one bone, the enlarged man-bone being cast by Basher as he straddled my uplifted thighs. Basher leaned over me, clutching my jiggling titties with his coarse hands, gripping and mashing them as my sensitized nipples poked between his spread fingers, his knuckles squeezing my pink berries as he flexed his fingers over my sacrificial orbs. His taunting of my taut buds enhanced the erotic swoon that had overcome my body and emotions.

The supporting hammock swayed with every pounding of Basher's rigid sex muscle as he knocked into my spread cleft. I hadn't asked to be fucked hard this way, but as a captured woman, I'd been bound up in a position of limited physical leverage, and I definitely had no social leverage. I had no control over what was happening to me physically. As the chosen oracle girl, I was at the mercy of Basher and the rules of this mystical ritual, melding male and female flesh, invoking the spirit of the goddess. I had come to understand my role - accepting or rejecting my role in this ritual was not an option. There was no consent on my part, but neither did I abandon this role that had come upon me, either by random circumstances or by the ordained choice of pagan spirits. At a deep level, I wanted to please and be appreciated by the women of the village and to be a perfect medium, bringing omens of good fortune to the shaman and his people.

Without conscious volition, the needy performer inside of me came to the fore and embraced the intimate connection with not only flesh, but with the spiritual world to which I had become a portal. If there is a female deity who controls the fortunes of the sea, earth and sky; then I think I must've been her natural choice to give corporal body to her heavenly voice. The core of my being craves to connect my emotions with all that is around me. I discovered a new, powerful identity as the center of sexual attention. I found that I'd been transformed into a holy vessel and potent spiritual prophetess. This unseen, unknown goddess knew I was a perfect fit for this sanctified performing role. Strange, but I was the last to know what a natural fit I was to be such a great fucking prophetess of the future.

With an instinctive tilt, I tried to lift my hips to meet his hammering blows; but I had little physical leverage to orient my vagina to welcome Basher's plunging pestle as he ground it into my mortar. I desired to participate; I wanted to give myself over to the ethereal emotion and to the pure, physical pleasure of the moment. I opened my mind and soul, drinking in the masculine energy and hardened form that pumped me full as Basher drove into me, grinding bump after grinding bump.

The sensation of my pussy being stuffed satisfied an animal hunger within me. Only to feel tormented upon his quick withdrawal; leaving me quaking and hot, wanting him back inside. And back he came, with a vengeance; pushing his manhood up inside me. Despite the ropes preventing much movement of my legs and arms, I experienced a detachment from the earth and her gravity. Basher's aggressive thrusting rocked the hammock and made me feel as if I were floating, exciting my inner girl parts in my core, lifting me skyward in an updraft of steaming desire. Hot waves crashed over my insides, giving me no choice but to vocalize their intense and pleasurable effects on me and thereby influence the roll of the shaman's dice being cast behind me. In that moment I embodied two extremes: I was both flesh of animal, howling in the heat of passion to be forcibly bred, and also spirit-being of a maternal goddess, pouring out prophecies for the future of her worshippers.

At my center, a warm welling of an orgasm was growing hotter and bigger with every grunting punch that Basher rammed inside of me. My green painted belly flexed as I twisted in my sex hammock under the thatched roof with my legs spread wide by the constraining ropes. The urge to climax was building, inflating my womb with flashes of hot, fluid undulations while I responded with a patter of bubbling sex sounds. Maybe I was trying too hard to reach orgasm and please Basher and the observing witch doctor; but somehow, I lost focus and my orgasmic urge deflated and cooled within my loins.

The concern and disappointment that I was going to fail to orgasm and fail to successfully prophesy good fortune filled my head and made any chance of orgasm turn shy and disappear. I was going to have to violate my principles and fake an orgasm - I could fool Basher and probably the officiating sorcerer; but it might be dangerous to try and fool the indwelling goddess. I heard a voice in my head remind me, 'It's not nice to fool Mother Nature'. I was on the horns of a dilemma as well as the horny horn of Mr. Basher.

As if on cue, I opened my eyes when I felt a small hand clutch my green, left breast as one of my attending maidens had come to me and began fondling me. She licked my nipple with a long tongue stroke, a move that settled my distracted mind. She licked my breast a few more times, gently bringing me back into a state of bestial arousal. I concentrated on the stiffness bashing up into my moistening valley, arching as best I could to get him to stroke my G-spot. When I flexed my glutes and arched for him, I felt my assisting maiden's finger slide over my engorged twat. The magic had returned.

Her light touch on the underside of my clitoris sent fizzling sparks to my nipples and toes. With each back-and-forth swing of the hammock, my clit brushed against her finger. The rhythmic timing of each pendulum swing brought a higher intensity to my hungry little nub as I anticipated the next brief intimate stroke. Her finger passively flicking my clit each time my drooling pussy swung past, her handling was driving me wild.

Basher fastened his hands around my waist, holding tight to his penetrating manroot. I was no longer swinging, but was balanced on his engorged shaft. He jerked, his sinews flexed as he ejaculated. His hot semen flooded my hollow, my vaginal contractions forced his fluids to surge out and drip down my ass.

My maiden reached for my hungry, yet unsatisfied hot button. She massaged me, bringing heated waves of sloshing desires to slap against my womb. Her delicate fingers spread Basher's sticky cum around my tingling sweet spot. I focused on her touch, letting my hip rise to meet her wonderful subtle care.

I moaned long and slow at first, as my widening orgasmic urge pushed through my loins. My moans then became a series of short screams, followed by a thunderous, bellowing jungle call as my orgasm burst inside of me. Jagged, electric sparks flew around my innards as my vagina contracted and then relaxed with a swarm of twanging reverberations shaking my bones.

She continued to rub me the right way as my man returned to fuck me hard to finish me off in grand style. I wanted to draw in my legs and curl into a ball and wrap my hands over my face as the wicked post-orgasmic vibration rattled through my tied-up body. I writhed in my hammock, pulling in vain on the vines that held me in place, the inability to move my limbs made the tortured intensity of the dissipating orgasms last longer.

I was weak and wrung out as my sex swing hammock was lowered to the ground. The men unbound the vines on my wrists and ankles. I was breathing hard and barely noticed the men disappear after the priest had sealed my prophetic statements by obscuring his sacred circles in the sand with a swipe of a leafy tree branch. I was allowed to recover before the women came and lifted me to the sea, where I was washed clean while songs of thanks were sung from the shore. Again, everyone seemed happy, as was I. I was sure that I'd been possessed by the female deity's spirit, just as sure as I'd been plundered by Basher. I had been a good fuck and a good voice for the feminine divine.

It is said that things come in threes. I had been painted blue as a prophetess for the sea, colored green as I was induced to give utterances for the fortunes of their island. And to my way of thinking, that left the third realm, the sky and its symbolic color. I was awakened the next morning as had been the custom the past two days. I expected once again to be dressed, bound and fucked to the point of involuntarily moaning out sacred signs to be interpreted by the shaman.

My fate for Day 3 looked like it was lining up like the previous two days. I expected to be dressed in a ceremonial cape before I was undressed and painted in preparations for holy sex. I saw no escape from my honored position until they had finished playing with me. I'd been forced to become this oracle, revealing the future while being subjected to the punishing pleasure of wild men.

I had been ridden hard for two days straight. I was feeling stretched out down there and a bit sore. I had never before experienced so much lusty masculine attention to the delicate region between my thighs. I wasn't sure if I could give myself over to my role for a third day; being possessed by a powerful female spirit while sexually taken by yet another young man. I feared all of the eroticism had been fucked out of me already by the gang of the medicine man's 'get lucky' squad. I feared I would fail to deliver the fortune signs these people were seeking from me.