Onekka, Voodoo Priestess

Outside the darkened hut, the beat of voodoo drums rose and fell in intensity. My heartbeat synchronized with the rhythms, gunning blood through my veins like water through a fire hose. My focus blurred into a tunnel. I had no peripheral vision at all. Every cell in my eyes focused on the woman in front of me in the wavering candlelight. The deep rich color of her obsidian skin was offset by the white, ankle length dress she wore. It was thin, cotton fabric with spaghetti straps holding it to her shoulders. Ruffles around the breasts camouflaged her cleavage, yet I could still see their ripe curves. I wondered, not for the first time, what her nipples looked like. How impossibly dark were they against the fullness of her breasts? Her feet were bare and her toenails, fingernails and lips were painted in lavender. Silky black hair fell in waves half way down her back and her eyes were wide pools of sapphire blue. I had been startled by the color which she later explained was a gift from the gods and set her apart from her fellow islanders.

The drum beat increased, making my whole body throb. What had she given me to drink? It was a milky white substance in a wooden bowl which she had held to my lips and tilted back until the liquid was gone. Choking down the last bit left my mouth and throat feeling chalky. Whatever was in the potion had pulled me into a daze. Now, I was slumped on a chair with thin cushions that allowed the bony structure to poke me in the back. What the hell was happening to me? The potion channeled the rhythm of the drums, the throbbing of my body, the woman in front of me and the aching of my erection. It hurt like hell, caged in fabric, even though I had adjusted it. The blood filled corpora felt as if it were going to tear through the delicate skin, like every drop of blood had flowed from my extremities into my crotch, leaving just enough for my brain to survive.

I had followed her into the small house on the edge of the jungle. Helped by the intoxicating allure of her exotic beauty, strong rum punch and the chalky drink. The rum had helped weaken my already diminished resolve, the bowl of liquid had smashed it. Whatever had been in it had tunneled my focus to just the exotic beauty before me. She reached up to the straps on her dress and began a slow strip tease.

That afternoon, I had walked into a small bar for an afternoon beverage, parched and tired from hiking the hills of the tiny island. I ordered a rum drink that seemed to be the specialty of the island, even though everyone made it a little different. This bartender, a slow, bald black man in tattered shorts and a stained shirt, mixed one of the best yet. After a few drinks, I asked around for accommodations. I did not get much of a response and decided to walk down the road and find a taxi back to civilization. I got up, tossed a few dollars on the bar and shouldered my backpack. It held all my worldly possessions. Stepping from the wood floor of the dark bar onto the sun baked dirt of the road, I slipped my sunglasses on against the glare and looked to my right and left. Small huts crowded each other as they huddled around the crossroads. They had wooden sides and tin roofs with hard packed dirt floors. The poverty was a stark contrast to my middle class upbringing in the United States. My sunglasses cost more than some of these people made in a month. I wanted to help and the best way I had found was to spend my dollars in the little bars and kiosks and restaurants along the road.

A small white car slid to a stop in the crossroads. It was covered in a film of dirt and heavily dented on the passenger side. Dust hung in the air around the vehicle and slowly settled as a the driver's door opened and a handsome young islander stepped out and leaned on the roof. He looked at me through mirrored aviator shades and smiled. His teeth were straight white pickets against his thick lips. Long dreads piled on his head and spilled over his shoulders. "Yuh, need a ride?"

I shrugged and stepped towards the car. I liked to let fate have her way when I traveled. It was more adventurous than itineraries and agendas. Somehow things always worked out. If I asked the universe, it would appear. The passenger door opened with a squeal of metal on metal and I slipped into the cracked vinyl seat. The man jumped back behind the wheel, jammed the gear shifter into first and unloaded the clutch. The front tire's spun as the car lurched away.

"I'm Brian. Where ya going?"

"Some place to spend the night."

"Yuh look for a party? How 'bout a girl, I know one." He took both hands off the steering wheel and used them to outline the shape of a female. He whistled.

"Just a place to sleep."

"I have da perfect place." The engine screamed as he accelerated. He drove the car recklessly at speed and I understood why it was dented and dusty. We wound around the island and into the jungle covered hills. He stopped at a small clearing surrounded by multiple huts. It looked like a commune and less like the town we had just left. He hopped out of the car and walked to the first hut. I followed with some trepidation, listening to bird calls and insects buzz in the verdant jungle. Tall trees sheltered the huts leaving the clearing bathed in fading afternoon light. A few people sat in the shade of the trees and huts. I was the only white person I could see.

"What is this place?"

"Dis be magical place, brah. I was told to bring yuh here."

"By who?" I asked skeptically.

He spread his arms wide and said, "Da gods." He laughed.

"How about a shower, food, a bed?" I was tired and sweaty after a day of trekking.

"Right here." He opened the door and lead the way in. I was surprised how nice the inside was. It had a rough hewn wood floor, worn smooth over years of use, a small kitchen area and an open door leading into a bathroom. A bedroom was through another open door and I could see a double bed with crisp white sheets stretched taut over the mattress, a folded blue blanket lay at the foot of the bed and two pillows in white cases were side by side at the head.

"Yuh like?"

"This is great." The accommodations were a lot nicer than I had imagined from the shabby looks of the exterior.

"We party later. You rest up."

"A party here?"

"Yas sir, we party here most nights. You like."

I nodded and he disappeared out the door, leaving me to drop my bag on the floor. I stripped naked and stepped into the shower. I thought about masturbating, but I had the sudden suspicion I should save myself for whatever lay ahead tonight. My driver was sure I would enjoy myself and I could always rub one off later.

After the shower, I laid down on the bed and fell asleep. I was awakened by a pounding on the door. I looked at my watch. It said I had slept for two hours. It was dark and I was hungry. The pounding came again and I stumbled from the bed and groped for my shorts. I found my bag and yelled for the person at the door to stop hammering. A few minutes later, I was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and clean underwear. I went barefoot to the door and opened it.

Brian stood on the stoop watching the festivities in the center of the clearing. A bonfire cast flickering light onto a throng of people.

"Where did all these people come from?" I rubbed my eyes to get the sleep from them.

"From mother earth." He laughed and smiled, his teeth gleaming. "Deh here for da party."

I followed him to the fire and was dished out a helping of stew from a boiling pot. It looked like a witch's cauldron suspended above the flames by a spit. A middle aged woman in traditional quadrille dress ladled stew for others in a line. The dress was white with a white belt. It hung off both shoulders and a ruffled flap of fabric folded over her breasts. It flowed nicely over her plump figure. She gave me an appraising look and a coquettish smile.

Sweat trickled down my back as I stood near the fire observing bare chested men, both young and old, in white cotton pants, shuffle around the clearing. They formed little groups, laughing and joking, telling animated stories. I dished stew into my mouth. It tasted wonderful and I went back for seconds. I washed it down with cold beer found in coolers scattered about the clearing.

Brian stuck close to me as the food was put away. We switched to rum punch as drums were brought out from one of the huts. The men began to paint their faces white and changed to loincloths. Some smeared white across their chests, legs and back in geometric designs.

Brian explained, "Dis for party."

I was beginning to suspect this was an Obeah gathering, the island's form of voodoo. I said as much and Brian agreed. He smiled and his eyes bright. "Yuh enjoy. Da gods, de want yuh here. I have present."

He led me back to the hut and pulled two lengths of fabric from a small pack. "A loincloth," he said, as he handed one to me. Inside, we changed and I was surprised at how smooth the fabric was. It felt good swaddling my skin. Properly wrapped under my crotch, a cloth belt knotted around my midsection kept the whole thing in place, and the ends of the fabric fell to my knees in the front and rear.

I smiled. Gods. Voodoo. Loincloths. Rum punch. I wanted to be afraid, but I was curious instead. The fire was stoked to a roaring blaze, spreading light across the clearing. Dark shadows played across the trees, huts and men.

Women had pulled their dress tops down and milled about with the men. Their bare breasts gleamed as if covered in oil. My cock stirred. The folds of the loincloth hid my erection.

The first smack of a drum woke up the night. It reverberated through my body and like the rest of the men and women I began to dance. The alcohol had loosened my inhibitions. I joined in the line stamping around the fire. Sweat poured off my body and I glistened. Brian was there, pounding his feet and waving his hands, dreads flying in all directions.

We danced for a long time. The drums setting the pace, resting us and driving us into a frenzy.

Suddenly, they stopped. The great swaying and thrashing and shouting crowd came to a halt. We stood in silence, facing a small hut. The door opened and a woman, my seductress, wearing her white dress, stepped out.

My heart pounded. My eyes locked on. Everything stood still as she walked across the clearing to stand silhouetted by the firelight. In her right hand, she held a wooden bowl. She raise it shoulder high and the people cheered.

Brian whispered proudly, "Dat my sister, Onekka."

I gulped. What was this strange ceremony? Why was I so entranced by it? "What's in the bowl?" I whispered back.

"Fertility drink. Make you strong, go all night." He held his forearm up, fist clenched, like a penis, hard and rigid.

Onekka extend her left arm straight out from her body. Her index finger pointed at the crowd. It excited me to think of her finger stopping to beckon me to her. I felt my loins stir.

Every man stepped forward, leaving the women to watch. They tore their loincloths from their bodies exposing hardened penises of all sizes. Brian shoved me forward to the front of the line. I looked down at the man to my right. His cock pointed straight out. The man to the left had one that pointed up and another man was hung almost to his knee. He stepped forward from the line and thrust out his chest. He had a right to be proud of that monster. I felt anemic beside him.

Onekka slowly moved her hand across the field. Her eyes were closed with her head tilted back. Her long black hair shook as she moved her head in a small shaking motion.

I heard Brian whisper in my ear. "She is a priestess of Obeah and has been preparing herself all her life for this moment. Tonight, she chooses a lover. It will be yuh. Da gods have spoken to me."

My mind reeled. Why me? Then, I couldn't wait. I was as hard as the rest of the men. I left my loincloth in place as her finger moved silently. It was so quiet we could hear crickets chirp. Her hand wavered on Monster Cock. He grinned and when she moved on, it faded just as quickly. His chest deflated.

The fickle finger of fate swept past me and I glanced back at Brian. He smiled and nodded his head in confidence. I looked back at Onekka. Her arm stopped and arced backwards. It stopped on me.

Monster Cock glared at me then angrily pushed through the crowd. Onekka kept her eyes closed and then curled her finger, pulling me from the crowd to stand beside her. Up close, she was more beautiful than I had realized. I was transfixed by her blue eyes. She turned and brought to bowl to my lips and forced me to drink the thick, white liquid. I gagged it down.

When she lowered the bowl, the crowd cheered and I threw my hands into the air like a prize winning boxer. The fans went wild and then the drums started. I ran my tongue around my teeth in an effort to remove the chalky taste.

Onekka took my hands and we began dancing, throwing ourselves into the pounding music, gyrating and grinding as if we were making love with our clothes on.

I started to feel strange. My limbs did not want to move as before. They felt heavy and my vision blurred, tunneling into just a vision of the white clad priestess. She took my hand and lead me to my hut.

The chair stabbed me just beneath the shoulder blades making it extremely uncomfortable. My cock was pitching a tent. I groaned at the pain. It felt like my organ was being stretched on a rack.

Onekka tugged at the straps of her dress and pulled them off her shoulders. In slow motion, she rolled the fabric down over her glistening skin. The material compressed her breasts, flattening them and hung on the hardness of her nipples. I was riveted to the action. My cock screamed for relief.

Gently, she slid the dress down. Her breasts sprung free, full, ripe and voluptuous in her youth. Her auroras were dark circles and her niples rode high, pointing slightly up. She continued to push the fabric down over her hips. With a shimmy and roll, the dress puddled around her bare feet allowing me to see her long, strong legs. Muscles rippled under her skin as she moved and the V cut of her abs drew my eye to her white, spandex, hip hugger boy shorts that looked like someone had painted them on.

I took her nakedness as a sign and began to tug at my loincloth. She held up a hand and spoke for the first time. Her voice was low, husky, "No, yuh must wait."

My cock pounded with lust and I knew it would only cool with the touch of her hand and be fully sated by being one with her. I needed it almost more than life itself. Whatever she gave me had captured me so completely that I was unable to think of anything but relieving the pain in my groin. Even my balls ached.

She turned slightly to present her side profile. Her panties did not fully cover her cheeks leaving the cleft where leg meets buttock exposed. My hand sprang up automatically to run my fingers over her flesh, to slide them along that cleft and grip her ass. How could she know my perversion? My penchant for fondling a woman's ass and the way it looks clad in tiny panties stretched taut over firm flesh? She turned fully around, giving me the complete view of her well defined body. The low light exaggerated her curves, the darkness of her skin and I longed to own her.

Onekka went to the kitchen. Her hips swayed like a runway supermodel, tantalizing me with her movements, the white panties so stark a contrast against her body. On tiptoes, she removed a glass jar from the top shelf of an upper cabinet. It contained a yellow liquid that sloshed as she moved. She set it on the table before me. Candlelight had played a trick and I could now see the liquid was clear.

"Remove your clothes and sit back down."

I planted my feet and pressed my shoulders against the chair to arch my back. I untied the belt and pulled away the white loincloth. I looked down at my penis. It seemed larger, thicker than what it was when I had showered. The deep purple head strained and throbbed at the end of a shaft that bobbed with every heartbeat. The drums were keeping time with me.

Onekka slid her panties off her ass and down her legs. She stood bared in all her glory and I had not seen a finer woman. Her pubic region was devoid of hair and her lips were swollen. I craved her. There was nothing else in the world that mattered.

Her hips shook with the beat of the drums and she began to dance. She jerked and spun, kicking her legs high and her arms wide. Small cries and chants echoed forth from her mouth. It became louder as she danced and I noticed that the people outside echoed her words. The whole hut was filled with the noise.

She stopped as suddenly as she had started and she drank from the clear liquid. Then she was on me, straddling my hips. Her pussy lips split open on my cock and I could feel her wetness. A radiating wave of pain and pleasure surged through my belly, down my groin and thighs that had no equal. My vision blurred and my eyes clamped shut against the tide.

I felt glass being forced between my lips and against my teeth. I opened my eyes and saw the jar of clear liquid. Oil floated on the surface and it smelled of aromatic oils. I let it flow down my throat. It splashed into my gut like fire. My eyes flared wide and my groin burned. I glanced at my cock, stark white against her blackness. It had grown even larger. The pain ebbed away. The tunnel vision cleared and I desired her as a woman who I loved deeply.

Our eyes locked together and I knew she had complete control over me. "What was that?"

She placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned her lips close to my ear. I was aware of the heat emanating from her body, the wetness of her pussy against my cock and her hard nipples on my skin. She whispered, "I have prepared for this moment all of my life. I have never known the love of a man and will never know it after this night. The first drink was a fertility potion to ensure we perform. I also drank from the bowl. This second portion was a mixture I made just for us. I knew you were coming to me tonight. I wanted to know what it was like to be truly loved, not attacked like a lustful animal used only for breeding."

She sat up, keeping her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes searched my face for understanding. With both of my hands, I cupped her cheeks. She leaned in and our lips met. I tasted her lipstick. Her lips parted and I slipped my tongue in. She arched her back and her pussy slid along my shaft. I felt her tongue probe back against mine.

I moved my hands to her back, running them down her spine to grip her ass with both hands. She let out a moan as I pulled her along my shaft. She forced her mouth tighter to mine.

Onekka broke our kiss and sat up. I kept my hands on her ass and she slid her hips forward and back on me. From inside her came a primal scream that was echoed by the naked populace surrounding the hut. Every candle in the building blew out and I never felt a breath of wind.

She stood and held my hand on the way to a window overlooking the clearing. My cock ached when it wasn't in sexual contact with her. She pointed out the window. My gaze roved the scene. Naked bodies writhed and twisted on the ground in a massive orgie. My cock leapt again as I watched ebony bodies intertwine.

Onekka took my cock in her hand and gently stroked it. "I must confess," she began in her soft accented English. "I am not a virgin as everyone believes. We had a white school teacher who kept me after class one day. He..."

"Onekka, you don't need..." Her grip tightened on my cock and I lost my train of thought.

"I am not the woman who these people believe I am and I want to experience more than this." She spread her hand out towards the yard. She began to stroke me again. "I want to be loved."