Penelope Maidenhead

Now normally I would have put a kibosh on the whole idea of leaving camp, and defying Father, but something about the island made me relaxed, and care free. I declared that we would have an adventure like the men, and ordered Sita to help Kate and I change. Within minutes the three of us were on our way. The stream meandered and flowed through the thick brush, and I worried that Sita would be unable to wield the machete, watch for danger, and lug all our picnic and swimming gear. Like the best of her class though she just plowed on through without a single complaint, and in less than an hour we had found the source of the stream.

We found ourselves on the shore of a beautiful crystal clear pool surrounded by lush foliage bearing the most fragrant flowers. Sita quickly found a clear spot where she could set up our things while Kate and I waded into the water. In the middle of the pool was a small island overflowing with vines, and flowers with a large bud as tall as myself dominating the center. I stood in the cool waters and wished I had brought some pots as these specimens would be perfect for the greenhouse back home. As luck would have it Kate discovered several helmets, Conquistador if my History lessons are well remembered, by stubbing her toes on them in the surf. This led to several minutes of Sita having to tend to Kate, delaying lunch unnecessarily, and Kate being a right grump about the whole affair.

I wish to continue the tale Dear Diary, but after recent events I'm still exhausted, so until the morrow.

April 24, 1861

After lunch I suggested we all take a leisurely stroll around the pool until the meal had settled. Kate and Sita had removed their shoes, and convinced me to do the same arguing that no one was around to see our nakedness. I must confess that the feel of the sand under my soles, and the water flowing across my toes filled me with a fervent glee half physical sensation, and half wanton naughtiness.

As we walked I noted the flowers. Vibrant shades of red with pale pink highlights marked the petals, and stamens of deep red fading to an orange like the clouds at sunset. As I cupped one in my hands I marveled at the velvety feel of it, and inhaled an aroma that was headier than any opiate. As I stood overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment I suddenly heard a loud pop, and a squeal from behind me. I turned to find Kate rubbing her buttocks and wearing a pained expression. She explained that she had picked a flower to wear in her hair, and as she stood up something smacked her across the bottom quite hard. She stripped her swimsuit so we could see if she had been bruised, and sure enough across both buttocks was a red welt from the blow. I posited her picking the flower had broken a branch loose, and Sita agreed, as she should, but Kate was reluctant to accept it. She pointed out that if that had been the case why didn't the branch hit her in the belly, as she was facing the bushes at the time. She also pointed out that if the wound had been dealt by a sprung branch where was the branch? Why had it struck and retreated? I thought she was being silly, and asked was she suggesting the plant had struck her for picking a flower? She looked embarrassed, but asked for a better solution from myself or Sita. I responded by ripping loose a flower of my own, and waving it at her. I received a smack of my own for it.

Sita had begun to back away from the bushes by then, explaining she had seen a vine come out and pop me before retreating. I was about to call poppycock, but Kate said she had seen it as well. I began to get mad, stating that someone was probably hiding in the bushes playing pranks. In my mind I knew that we were alone, and the island uninhabited, but refused to accept such a ridiculous possibility. I began beating the bushes, ordering Sita to do the same, and calling for whoever it was to reveal themselves. We trampled several flowers, and broke some branches, and that's when we heard Kate scream.

I had time to turn, and see Kate dangling upside down from with a vine wrapped around each ankle before I found myself in an identical predicament. I yelled to Sita to fetch the machete and cut us down, but she had suffered the same fate. In short order Sita, and I found ourselves stripped to bare skin by an array of strong, dexterous vines that seemed to come from the brush. A thicker vine encircled my waist, supporting my full weight, as smaller ones tugged my swimsuit free past my ankles. This thicker vine then loosened, as the smaller ones returned me to my upside down state, and drew back before landing on my exposed backside with a resounding snap. The pain was intense, worse than any punishment any Nanny had laid on my bottom, and only grew worse as the vine struck again, and again, and again. Tears blurred my vision, and my cries echoed across the pool, matched by poor Kate and Sita undergoing similar torture, and my buttocks grew hot under the lashing. Unfortunately, other parts of me began to grow warm as well.

For reasons I'll never understand after several lashings the pain began to be quite enjoyable, and I felt my own fruitful vine growing moist with dew. I bit my lip, not to hold in the cries of pain, but in a vain attempt to keep my moans of pleasure from reaching my companion's ears. I shouldn't have worried. Sita, her ample bottom looking identical to the reddest apple from Father's orchard, was letting loose a steady torrent of cries for "MORE" and "HARDER". Kate was whimpering, though whether from pain or the fingers she was rubbing across her Mound of Venus I couldn't in all honesty say. The blows slowed then stopped as we were placed back on the ground, but not released. I lay there on my stomach, Sita on her side, and Kate on all fours, as the flowers descended on our bodies.

A sweet smelling liquid dripped from them onto our wounds, soothing the pain and spreading nurturing warmth throughout our lashed frames. The stamen worked like fingers spreading this ambrosia across our bottoms covering us in delicate satiny sensation following each rivulet as it disappeared into fundament, and muff both. Without a second though I found myself raising my backside to allow the flowers easier access to my womanhood, and will go to my deathbed grateful for doing so. The stamen worked in concert on me, and I found myself lost in bliss as flowers worked on my wounds, my cunny, and even sneaked under to tease my nipples mercilessly. I found myself riding wave upon wave of sensation, lost as surely as any poor soul in the Opium Dens, as the velvet assault lays waste to all civilized breeding.

I look over to see Kate with a vine deep in her mouth, and another one thrusting deep into her nether regions. For a moment I fear she's been impaled clean through, but the one at her mouth bears a shape like a banana, but with skin like a mango, while the one at her madge is thicker, knobbed, and more rootlike in color and composition. A squeal from behind me, and a quick peek between my legs reveal that not only is Sita receiving the same treatment, but a root of my very own is creeping its way towards me. I watch fascinated as it snakes in my direction with a singular purpose. It's thicker, and longer than anything that I've been treated with before, and I find myself salivating in anticipation of being violated by it, and the sensations its ridged length will unleash.

As it enters I come up on all fours, and unleash a desperate longing cry as its girth stretches me to my limit. My eyes roll back and my whole body shudders as its seeming interminable length sinks deep into my willing, and wanton body. It retracts just as slowly, and I'm barely able to support myself, sinking myself down on my elbows as I spasm in pure ecstasy. Before it can begin its return journey I feel something brush my lips. I open my eyes to see the strange vine fruit dangling in front of me. Without hesitation I wrap my lips around it, and allow it to slide past my gums. It seems to find its rhythm quickly, and I'm glad, for the root planted in my heavenly garden prevents me from giving the fruit the attention it deserves. The taste is sublime, it is the essence of untamed nature, the very soul of this island, distilled into one place and filling my mouth with timeless wonder. I give myself over completely to the plant, existing only in this moment, and only to serve it as willingly, and as carnally as any Whitechapel slattern or Athanasian Wench could ever dream to.

I come out of my reverie once, as I hear two sharp quick cries from my companions that cut through the bliss. I glance over to find Kate has had a third vine added to her collection, and it thrusts almost as vigorously as the other two. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals Sita in the same predicament, and I marvel at their capacity to fit anything else in their muff with the root already occupying it. I spy my own root slinking towards me, more slender than the other two, and with a pale green appearance, just as the flowers dump more dew across my buttocks, and begin massaging it into my fundament. As I feel the vine press against my cheeks, I realize it intends to violate my winking star. I must confess, Diary, I would NEVER consider such a thing normally, and would think any man who suggested it a sodomite, but seeing as how I was bound, and effectively gagged I had no choice but to allow myself to be penetrated in a most lewd and base way.

The fact that I came to enjoy it so very, very,VERY much is completely irrelevant.

I cried out as the vine found purchase in my tight and unwilling bunghole. Despite the copious amounts of dew providing lubrication it was going against the grain, so to speak, and took several moments to sort out. Unlike the knobbed root or the fruit, the vine only penetrated a little at a time, deepening its exploration slightly more with each thrust until it was as deep as it could go. I must confess that, like the spanking, it started as painful, but the pain, while never disappearing, became part of the pleasurable sensations I was slave to.

I will never know how long I, or my companions, were ensorcelled by this pool, and its carnal garden. I know that I never wanted it to end, and I experienced release after release to the point that I feared I would die of dehydration, and could only thank the Almighty if that was how I was to pass from this life. Each time was more intense than the last leaving me simultaneously drained, and desiring even more. Sita has described a similar experience, but Kate when asked will begin to talk, but then throw her hands up and smile contentedly, before excusing herself to handle a Hysteria attack. All I can say that after an eternity of beautiful, blissful, undeniable transcendent copulation the various phalluses released.

The fruit went first, bursting and filling my mouth with the sweet dew that it had used on my lower parts earlier. The taste of the fruit itself was only a hint of its power, and I drank my fill, as it poured so copiously it ran out of my mouth and down my body. I tried to catch it in my hands so as to not waste a drop, licking myself clean like a cat, and trying to catch and swallow each precious bit of nectar. Before I could get it all the root began to empty itself into my belly, and I found myself laying face first in the sand, backside raised towards the heavens, as the cool thick sap filled me to overflowing with every spurt, running in sticky rivulets down my thighs. Finally the vine seemed to swell, and deposited something firm, and round into my backside. I scarcely had time to register it before collapsing into sweet merciful unconsciousness.

We awoke at sunset, sticky, and sand covered to find the vines had retreated. A suggestion to spend the night and pick flowers tomorrow was soundly and quickly agreed upon. We strolled into the pool, lost in our own musings, and cleaned ourselves off. Then a quick cold supper followed by some star gazing, and games before bed. We didn't build a fire, as we didn't want to risk upsetting our new friends, and were awoke in the dead of night by a soft glow suffusing the glade.

The bud on the island had opened, and a large flower, the twin of those around us in everything but size, now swayed gently in the cool night air. All around us the air was thick with a glowing dust that stuck to everything it encountered. The three of us danced through the pollinated air like carefree schoolgirls, and were soon covered so thoroughly that an observer would have believed us made solely of light instead of flesh and blood. After several minutes of this Sita suddenly stopped and asked did anyone else hear music.

Kate and I both agreed we did, and Kate pointed out it seemed to be coming from the island. We quickly dove in and swam out to find the flower now stood atop a shaft twelve feet high, and covered in fine hair-like structures. While in the water I had entertained the notion of trying to discover the music's source, but once on land and covered in the pollen again I shoved such silliness aside. Like the Maenads of myth, we danced and sang with abandon around the massive stalk occasionally getting close and rubbing our naked flesh against its silken shaft. It wasn't long before I felt the stirrings of a massive Hysteria attack building within me and my dalliances with the stalk started taking on a wanton flavor. A quick glance showed me Kate was starting to feel the same and even poor Sita was caught in the throes of some erotic trance.

I shall never confess this to anyone else, Diary, but despite being raised a fine Christian woman my whole life I found myself worshiping the plant with more fervor than I ever experienced in a proper church. We began to grind our wet bodies against the stalk with abandon, surrounding it and surrendering completely to the sensations its cilia drew out of us. The vines made reappearance, but instead of restraint they cradled our bodies and began to lift us up and down the pulsing stalk. We gripped each other for support, physical and emotional, as the vines slowly brought us to the base of the flower, and then just as slowly returned us to ground. Over and over again as the silken hair caressed us like a thousand tongued lover and our bodies coated the shaft in quim from our ecstatic releases.

Suddenly the whole plant shuddered, and burst along the length of its shaft, releasing so much nectar we were almost swept into the lagoon. It didn't stop either, sweeping through every plant on the little isle or the shore of the lagoon, coating the ground and running into the waters. The effect on us was unbelievable. We fell on each other like animals, driven by pure instinct, with a craving unequaled by even those who ride the dream pipe. The night passed in a blur of sensation, as I licked, kissed and even nibbled my companions from head to (and including) toes and was paid back in full. Then consumed with exhaustion, and bloated with bliss we collapsed into a sleep the dead would envy.

I was awoken just after dawn by a pressure in my fundament and an overwhelming need to evacuate myself. Not wishing to befoul the waters I squatted over the hole left by the destruction of the towering stalk the night before. It was filled with nectar and bits of the beautiful plant but would serve my purposes. The pressure was tremendous, and I cried out as I was sure I would be split in twain by the passage of whatever blockage assailed me. I had time to wonder if this was how Desmond felt every day before Kate and Sita were roused by my distress and came to help. Sweat dripped from my naked body, and my cries echoed across the lagoon until suddenly with a loud splash I expelled a great seed from my anus. I collapsed in a heap at Kate's feet as suddenly Sita grabbed her own bottom and quickly expelled a twin onto the ground. Somehow, through means we'll never understand, we instinctively knew this second seed was a gift as well as all the necessary knowledge to make it grow and prosper back home in England. We quickly potted it in one of the helms, whereupon Kate felt the urge and expelled a great quantity of nectar upon it, cleaned up gathered our things and returned to basecamp.

I must confess we didn't clothe ourselves, or quit enjoying each other, until we heard Father and Desmond returning through the brush. Their quest for Myocoxiphlopin was a failure, and other than a passing interest in the helm we used as a pot Father has been a recluse in his tent ever since. Still the trip wasn't a total waste, as Kate and I are closer than sisters now, and even Sita holds a special place in my heart despite her station, and the three of us are looking forward to putting our new gardening interests to use in the greenhouse back home. Until my next adventure, Dear Diary, I bid you adieu.