Secrets of the Deep Ch. 01

Once upon a time, when magic was everywhere and wishes still came true, there was a tribe of women of such distinguished beauty and insatiable lust, that the sun itself stared open-mouthed at them, and the corals turned their heads to listen to their sinful moaning. And because they seldom were seen in anything resembling clothing, they were known in the hearts of all as the nudist sea nymphs, though perhaps other names would have fit.

But this could not have been so very long ago at all, for this was a time of oil wells and cellular phones and buxom lifeguards in bikinis far too small for them, who would sometimes disappear into the ocean never to be seen again.

When the nymphs took a woman, there was nothing to be done of it, or so the stories go. The fire in her loins would not be quenched and she was lost to virtue. She might be caught out of the corner of an eye, engaged in the sluttiest of sexual acts, lustfully swallowing enough cum that was deposited into several women's pussies to fill a large swimming pool, or sitting on the rocks, licking mouthfuls of her own juices off her fingers while tourists with cocks the size of tree trunks walked by, terribly aroused but seemingly unaware as to why.

This was also was about the time that managers of the McKinley oil and fishing company began to hear tales of a vixen named Lena and her nymphs, who were disrupting business in a most un-courteous way. Orgies! Massive orgies that left everyone incapable of work for many days. Engineers dropped their fancy tools and went to work on the nymphs instead. For hours and hours, they would fuck, cocks refusing to go limp for as long as there were lovely nymph breasts to be fondled. Hands, lips and tongues all became sex toy to help the job along. When the screwing stopped, every female on board would just walk off into the ocean, as though dragged by the clit. And so, the oil rigs and the tankers and the fishing boats were always understaffed at the sort of jobs women held: communications, food service, secretarial jobs, boring stuff they really ought not to have troubled themselves with in the first place.

No matter how noble, the women would go, and no matter how frigid, the passions would tremble through them and they would shed their clothing like old skin and dive in head-first to be consumed by the sea. The very waters clutched at their breasts and groins as they swam, their passion warming them against chill of that they had left behind.

And from corporate headquarters, men did come. Men carrying guns, for this was also a time of warheads, hand grenades and automatic weapons, a time of modern warfare.

And they were all men, for women were not to be trusted on a mission such as this. All were dressed in black, with the letters "S.W.A.T." across their broad chests and strong shoulders. Guns erupted. Bullets penetrated, tore flesh and dug deeper, making the blood trickle and then flow freely, destroying lust and beauty and restoring order and peace to the country and the economy. But was that really right?

Now, you might think this is a tale of feminism, of the power of lust to change lives, or a testimony to the sacrament of nature, but you would be as much wrong as right, for this is a story of the sea nymphs. It is a story of their lusty sins, of catastrophic climaxes, of sinister kisses and dark desires, a story of naughty words that troubled the lips of once innocent maidens. This is the tale of Lena who led a war, fought with lust, of Jasmine, who liked to fuck on her back with her legs thrown high above her. This is the tale of Chastity, who fought without success against her transformation.

But before I can truly begin the tale, there is one more thing that I ought not forget to mention, and it is that a sea nymph is a very different creature from a mermaid or a siren, and is neither destined to sacrifice herself for virtue nor to lull unwitting souls to watery death. When Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection he thought it a nymph staring up at him from the water. So keep that in the corner of your mind while your cocks swell and your pussies moisten, and gaze carefully at your own reflection.

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Chastity was not a princess in the strictest sense of the word, nor was she a miller's daughter, nor an old beggar women, but still, the cool sea breeze insisted on blowing through her brown hair as her own little fairy tale lunged forward, restlessly gasping, practically begging to be told. It was already growing dark on the little beach where she stood looking out to sea. The golden orb of the sun had already fallen below the horizon, but there was still plenty useless time ahead of her. It would be hours before the water receded enough for her to venture to the tide pools. She was here on a summer research program in marine biology, sponsored by the McKinley Company as part of an effort to prove that, contrary to widespread belief, oil spills are good for the environment, a veritable tribute to unbiased corporate interest in public science.

The weather has become quite chilly and the wind seemed to blow right through Chastity's flesh, chilling her to the bones, completely ignoring her tight blue jeans and preppy fur-trimmed leather jacket.

What was she doing here, gazing off into the ocean as though searching for something beyond the horizon? She could be back at the hostel, going through her notes, or snuggled up in her soft pink blankets catching some extra z's before a night of field work, instead of standing here, staring into the endless expanse before her.

But she knew it was no good. She had to be here, with the water flowing around her ankles, threatening to snake into her rubber boots. She had to keep watching the waves as they rose and swelled and crashed against the shore. She couldn't tear herself away for the world.

But it really was very cold, and she felt like she ought to eat something. Her body hadn't forgotten hunger in her fear and misery. There was the little hamburger shack a short way inland where she usually ate, and it was positively buzzing with business. She could order herself hot tea and a burger with extra fries, sit herself down and take her time eating. She would still be able to see the ocean from her table. She could see it over the heads of other people. She didn't have to feel alone. Wasn't she just making things more difficult for herself by keeping alone? She should not act like the woman who lived next door to her father, the one who never left home and talked to cats for company. And she really ought to eat something!

She had to admit to herself that Alia was really gone. That she had, in fact, gone mad only two days ago, seduced the officer who was guarding her room, engaged in every kind of degrading sexual act with him, and then made off completely naked in a stolen car, which she drove off the pier into the ocean not far from where Chastity now stood. They sent divers to look for the car, but it was never found. It must have been carried to the depths of the sea by the offshore current.

No, she could not go back to the hamburger shack where she had met Alia, the owner's daughter who had taken her order and delivered it to her table. Not while she still suffered from the terrible illusions. Alia, yelling that she had been gang-raped by women. Alia, ripping off her veil and hospital gown and screaming for help, Alia with the needle in her arm, her brain fogging over as the sedative began to spread through her bloodstream, Alia with her hands between her legs calling the guard to her like a siren, and then bouncing up and down on his cock as though it were a ride at the kiddy carnival.

Not that Chastity had been around for most of that. It was all the gossip that had spread like a plague, tarnishing the reputation of a modest and well-respected young woman. Alia had seemed so beautiful, her hair hidden beneath her jibab headdress. The way the headdress framed her face made her skin seem to glow, as though it had the power to capture the light around it. She was so elegant and regal, the way she stood and walked to Chastity's table. It sent a shiver through Chastity's body to think about it. It was a dark and sinful feeling, accompanied by an awkward tingling in her nether regions that left her feeling breathless and very, very dirty. But what was it? Lust?

She wouldn't let herself answer that. Too much depended on the answer to that question. She couldn't let herself be branded a lesbian. She went to an all-girls' college, she could be expelled.

No, she wouldn't be getting anything to eat at the little hamburger shack, better to forget it all together, to stop acting like a fool and get the hell out of the water. Whoever Alia was to her, she was dead and good riddance. Better to have her buried at sea, to have her gone, away. Far, far away from her.

She was here to study sea life, to probe at sea anemones and gather starfish, like she had done since she was a little girl. Biology was her hobby, something to study before settling down and becoming some man's wife. Was it so wrong for her to be staring at the sea? Perhaps she was subconsciously learning something about the marine environment and the flow of the tides. No need at all to pay attention to that terrible sensation of heat, to the juices that were flowing down her legs. Maybe tomorrow morning, she'd go into town and buy herself an anti-yeast infection ointment, and then the heat and the juices would be gone for good. Wasn't that what they said on those TV infomercials?

She took a step towards the shore. There was a taco stand that she could go to. That ought to kill some time before the low tide. She'd just close her eyes while she passed the hamburger shack, like she did when she had to walk past the open casket at her grandmother's funeral. She could walk right on by without worrying. She wouldn't consider for the hundredth time what it must have felt like for Alia to be raped by women, what would it have been like to feel another women's mouth on hers, to feel the unwanted touch on her most sensitive regions, to feel the horrible abandonment of not being able to do anything to change her circumstances. Was it even possible? Chastity had thought all rapists were men. Surely no woman could do such a thing! Alia must have gone mad.

She took another step, keeping her legs pressed together. "Out of the water, out of the water. I'm not going to dive in to my death. I have too much to live for. Forget Alia, forget her. She didn't even exist in the first place. Forget the light on her face, forget the hysteria, the death so passionate it could only belong in an Edgar Alan Poe poem. Forget the waves consuming her body. Forget the stains of cum on her hospital bed."

She's gone, and it is to be as though she never existed in the first place.

The taco stand was nearly abandoned. Alia's death had given the nearby hamburger place a morbid thrill that sent tourists scuttling to shell out money for an overcooked patty on a slightly sandy bun. The cook made several passes at her, which she excepted gracefully. He was far too poor to be date material, but his compliments made her feel very beautiful and feminine and she had a very hard time convincing herself not to give him her phone number. But good Catholic women didn't do things like that!

She ate her food and left, taking her equipment with her. She had a thick pair of gloves and a set of flasks and plastic trays for water and specimen samples. She was walking the short distance to the tide pools when she heard a noise, and couldn't help but look towards the water.

It was incredible!

A woman with long black hair was riding naked on the back of a dolphin. Her body arched back in ecstasy, clutching oh so exquisitely at her bare breasts. How incredibly dream-like! Dolphins didn't usually come this far inland. Not to mention the rider! It was like an erotic, black-haired version of the birth of Venus. The woman's hair fell around her face like a veil, and Chastity recognized her to be Alia, who winked and blew her a merry kiss.

Chastity felt a uncontrollable urge to call out to her, but the moment Chastity began to say the name, the vision was gone, vanished back into the sea.

Chastity shook her head. She had to get more sleep if she was beginning to see things. It must be the stress. She's been getting this way after her grandmother's passing.

She walked on towards the tide pools. A couple was lying intertwined on the beach. Chastity could tell by the noises that they were making love. She had to step into the water to get around them, as she tried not to think about what they were doing.

The woman seemed to look up at her as she passed, and Chastity could almost swear she licked her lips. Chastity quickened her pace. Why did everyone think that sex on the beach was so romantic? It was disgusting! Think of all that sand! She could almost feel it wedging into her pussy, rubbing her raw as she walked.

There were other people, three of them sitting among the rocks of the tide pool. She could see that much a distance. There were a few of other girls in this town from other colleges, who were also sent here on a desperate mission to prove the long-term environmental benefits of offshore drilling. Perhaps they had chosen the same night as her to examine tide pool life.

Wait a minute! It was hard to tell by the moonlight, but they seemed to be naked! On my word! They were! Chastity caught a glimpse of a nipple as she moved closer.

What was this some sorority's rite of passage? Or were these pagans, out to celebrate some terrible fertility rite? People like that ought to be shot, she had thought once or twice before her conscience caught up to her.

She saw a woman with long, blond hair pull a tendril off a sea anemone and begin rubbing it around her nipples.

Chastity winced. All nideria have stingers as a mechanism for self defense and to help capture prey. That's why Chastity had the gloves, so she could handle the plant-like creatures without getting stung.

She could feel her own nipples begin to tingle and harden and the burning in her loins grew stronger. She couldn't watch this. It was sinful, and yet she couldn't tear herself away. Look away, look at anything else, even the sea, just don't look at that sinful woman, she told herself, her heart pounding. But her neck muscles refused to be an instrument of her will. Instead, she came closer.

The naked blond women's eyes rolled back and she let out a slutty cry, moving her legs apart so that Chastity could see all the way into her, so that she could see the juices that flowed freely from the woman's aroused body.

Why was she doing something rubbing the sea anemone against her nipple? Was it true that some women liked the feeling of pain? Chastity had heard of fetishes, had even seen pictures of women with nipple clamps on the covers of dirty magazines at the seedy little convenience store, where her brother liked to go to buy cigarettes.

A second woman, a redhead, moved closer to her friend and, placing her head between her open legs, drove her tongue deep inside the other woman's pussy.

Chastity took a step back and braced herself. She could hardly believe what was going on in front of her. It was so vile, yet so sublime. Her loins burned like crazy. Oh, she wished she had the ointment now! What she wouldn't do to spread it across her fingers and apply it to the affected area, the part of her body that corresponded to the region between the blond women's legs that was being so expertly eaten by redhead.

The third woman clutched at the blond women's breasts, rubbing her bare cunt against the woman's back.

Oh, it was too much! Far too much! She ought not be watching this. She ought to leave. So what if she missed a day of observation? She couldn't stand the fire in her loins. Oh, why wouldn't it go away?

Would anyone marry her after the sight that she had just witnessed? Oh! And why, even now, could she not control herself? Why didn't she look away. Why did the passionate kisses make her lips ache to be touched? Why did it seem as though she could feel every sensation, every little pressure of lips against skin?

Oh, why did they torment her by fencing with their tongues? Couldn't they see how disgusting it was? Why did they have to clutch so at their breasts and nipples? Why did the juices flow from their pussies? It was too terrible.

She found her own hand reaching into her pants, rubbing herself though her white cotton undies, but then tore her hand away as though it were on fire. Her pussy ached and begged her to continue stroking it.

The moaning began to grow louder, and Chastity realized that the sinister women had made a circle so they could all lick at each other at once.

All at once, Chastity tore herself away and ran. She ran as though her life depended on it. And all the time she thought, "raped by three women, raped by three women."

It still pounded in her head as she climbed the stairs of the youth hostel. Her legs felt like they were made out of rubber and she could hardly move them, even as they carried her onward.

"I could use a day off," Chastity told herself. "I deserve a day off," she told herself as she stripped off her pants and folded them on a nearby chair. "I've lost a friend, and in such an awful manner, insanity." She hung up her coat and stripped off her shirt and bra, extricating her white night gown out from underneath the pillow of her carefully made bed and throwing it on over head. Only when she was completely covered did she remove her cotton panties.

They were all wet and smelled funny. It must be a yeast infection! She really would have to go to the drug store tomorrow and pick up an ointment. She wrote a little discrete reminder on the note pad by her bed (YI drugstore buy cream) and changed into a clean pair of underwear. It wouldn't do not to have them. There were men at this hostel. And what if there was a fire in the middle of the night and she had to run outside?

Chastity pulled the covers back and crawled into bed, picking up her book and reading glasses from the bedside table.

She was reading a paperback novel called "Lusting for Baby," in which the barren protagonist was having feverish sex with her husband of three years in order to fulfill her lifetime dream of becoming a mother. The man had climbed on top of his wife, put his "thing" in her and was thrusting in and out, grunting softly as his wife moaned in satisfaction.

Chastity spread her legs apart ever so slightly. She would not push back the sheets. She would not touch herself where only her future husband could touch her. It was sinful.

She threw the book against the wall. Why the devil was she reading such filth? She really must be a pervert.

She heard the door begin to open and sat up straight. How did she forget to lock the door? Someone could come in and rape her, and it would be all her fault. She ought to be more observant.

Chastity shot up and crossed herself. It was the blond-haired woman! The one from the tide pools, who then had another woman's head between her legs.

And the slut stood in her bedroom, completely naked!

Chastity clutched her blanket over her breast, as though it were a man that had walked in on her.

"What in heaven's name are you doing here? Get away!" Chastity said, in as even a voice as she could muster. "This is my room, I don't recall inviting you. And it's very rude for you to be so very naked," she added.

The woman laughed.

"Why should I leave? I can smell your horniness from here. Don't you want me to come and do something about it? I can take you away from this shithole to some place where you can actually do something with your life."

Chastity gasped. The whore had said a dirty word. She must be a terrible, terrible woman.