Well Beyond the World

"If he stayed here, it is probably safe for us to stay here." She stretches out in the pile of leaves, yawning big. You nod dimly, although still turning the events of this morning over in your mind.

The heat was getting intense, a few hours siesta sounded nice. Caroline gets herself situated with her wounded arm raised and you crawl between her legs, resting your head on her chest and listening as her breathing gets slow.

###

When you awake, the buzz of insects is loud but the moist heat has shifted from unbearable to rather pleasant. You stretch, rolling your face away from the pool near where you rested. Caroline stirred next to you, her body still spooning yours. You move to get up but she catches your hand and points to her face -eyes still closed.

You lean down and cup her face, kissing her soft sensual lip, lingering there, sucking gently as the passion rises in you. She kisses you fast and needy, pulling at the remains of your shirt, freeing your breasts. She leans up, sucking greedily at your nipples. You throw back your head, moaning in pleasure, as she pulls you in towards her. Kissing your chest with wild abandon.

You feel the pleasure building, though neither you nor she has strayed beneath the waist. Your hips buck and quake, the stimulation from your breasts radiating out like hot flashes jolting every nerve in your body.

What the fuck, you are panting, as she kisses the valley between your breasts, her hands squeezing at your butt. You kiss her, trying to regain your equilibrium but it just pulls your body in, tensing and tensing. You feel drunk. You feel high. You feel . . . oh no.

You look over, next to the pool of water where you slept you see a patch of red capped mushrooms, scorched all about their tips, growing in the dim light. Calidum Corpora. A potent aphrodisiac.

FUCK! Caroline strokes you through your pants, rubbing at your clit frantically. The sudden stimulation sends you over the top and you scream a startled gasp, the orgasm shooting through you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

You fall over on Caroline, knocking her flat on her back, clawing for breath. She holds you, kissing the top of your head, as you come back down.

"That was new." She said with a laugh. You give her a kiss. "I'm going to need to borrow a little more of your shirt, I've got some mushrooms that need collecting."

Caroline reaches down as the bandages slough off her arm. "What the hell?" She looks up at her perfectly unblemished arm, the skin flawless and tan in the tropical light.

"There is so much I don't understand here." You shake your head. "But I'm glad you are alright."

Caroline and you collect the mushrooms and discuss where to go next on the island.

Refreshed from the unusually intense orgasm and intimate rest, you set out through the late afternoon heat. It was difficult to gauge how far away the village is through the jungle, so the two of you agreed to explore just for an hour or two - once the sun started to set, you would make your way back to the cave. The blinding fury of the jaguar was fearsome enough by daylight, at night . . . you shuddered, adjusting the straps of cloth that were masquerading as a shirt. Well, they did their job keeping your chest secure while fleeing from the big cat - you retighten them and hope they hang in there a little longer.

Once again, you rub your hands over your belly and sides -the scratches from the underbrush are gone and flawless, taut skin remains. It was even vaguely tanned. You shook your head, this long out in the tropical sun, you should be as red as a firetruck and twice as in pain but no. You look tan and fresh.

You glance over at Caroline. She is a few paces behind you, gently hopping over a downed tree trunk. She looks youthful, the worry lines faded slightly around her eyes, and she has so much energy. She catches you studying her face and blushes.

"Oh you . . . eyes on the trail." You grin.

"This is where Ryan would say, 'Just enjoying the view'", you give a mock bow.

"HA! He'd make it a tit joke." You nod. "He would."

Your thoughts flit back home, how long had it been? I hope, you pray, that this is passing like a dream and that when you return, it will have been minutes or hours. That's how it was at the Cabin in the Sky. A whole evening and a day in Los Angeles compressed down into an hour in the basement. But this was at least a day . . . and it feels different. Those visions in the Cabin, they felt so ethereal, and this . . . this feels heavier somehow. Thicker, more viscous.

"Like we are at the bottom of a well." You mummer.

"What'd you say?" Caroline asks, pausing to catch her breath.

"Look at this . . ." you push aside the thick layer of vines revealing a ring of standing stones in dappled sunlight. Giant boulders had been stacked into an ordered row and circle.

You enter the glen, cautiously scanning the surrounding tree line of the jungle for creatures but it is oddly still here. Small purple flowers on thin vines weave their way between the stones creating a green canopy as you enter the temple.

"This is amazing!" You hear Caroline exclaim as she weaves between the stones. As you walk along the corridor between the ancient boulders, your feet scrape the dirt from the tiles. Ornate tiles, many broken make up the path to the circle.

You note the alcoves, the altar tales with a bouquet of old flowers and some sort of muddy paste in an offering bowl. Someone had been here recently.

"Uh Brenna?" You hear a concerned Caroline call to you from the far corner of the circle. Clearly this was where the ceremonies were held, with a wine stained ceremonial stone diaz and a white sculpted statue, covered in vines. Caroline waves you over.

"Am I losing my god damn mind, or does that look a little like Pixie?" The statue was larger than life, a good 7 feet tall, wearing some sort of pelt garb.Her arms were upraised, one holding the broken shaft of a spear, her mouth open in a noiseless scream. A single diagonal slash of red paint had clearly been smeared across her face, and down to her left foot.

"Holy shit - that looks like her. Kindof." You squint. It wasn't a perfect capture, and the proportions were all wrong. You breathe a tiny sigh of relief. Thank god she hadn't been turned into a statue.

"Okay - this has to be that thing, right? Where they substitute the people in the story with the people we know? Pixie is just, whomever this goddess is supposed to be." That makes sense. Or does it?

"But she would be self-aware, right? You know that you are Caroline, I know that I'm Brenna, we all got pulled in at the same time. Therefore, she'd still be Pixie and not . . . warrior goddess Pixie, right?"

You hear a rustle in the trees to your left. Feet on leaves. You grab Caroline's arm right next to the dart. You look at it, sticking out of her arm like a defiant blade of grass, and then you are falling forward as the world closes in around you. You don't even remember hitting the ground.

###

You spit the leaves out of your mouth and squint in the dim light. You are face down in the dirt, trying to make the slats of flicker light form themselves into a recognizable scene. Slats - bamboo walls! Well, you made it to the village.

You sit up, go to steady yourself and flop over into the dirt. Your hands are tied with thick dried vines, behind your back.

"Caroline?" You whisper into the darkness. Clearly night has fallen while you slept but there are torches, somewhere, giving you just enough light to see that you are alone. You roll to your knees and slowly get to your feet. You find your way to the dried grass door, pushing it aside slightly.

"Good evening, Fatafata!" You hear a warm voice call out next to you. You let out a startled yelp.

"I was wondering when you would join us. Come on out, we've got a party to attend." You poke your head out and see a muscular man, young, his head shaved perfectly smooth, with a wide nose and a bold grin. His skin a deep warm brown, he wears a grass skirt, a necklace of animal teeth and in his hand, a sharpened bamboo spear.

You decide to accept his invitation.

"Where are we going?" The village seems completely interwoven with the surrounding tropical trees, with their sprawling languid limbs and rising twisted roots. Bamboo and thatch seem embedded into them, like berries tucked inside a shrub. Interwoven between the houses, endless rope bridges of wood and vine.

"The Night of Firsts, Fatafata!" Your escort cries out with glee. He offers a hand as you ascend the first rope ladder up a tangled root mass before a wooden bridge takes you from tree to tree. You glance down, the ground becoming more and more distant as you travel through the canopy with your enthusiastic guide.

"I hope I get chosen! I had my first hunt three moons ago, it was incredible! I sprung upon the Resplendent Eagle from my perch and claimed a single feather before they even took wing." He punched the sky and jumped, reenacting the moment, and causing your stomach to lurch as the whole rope walkway swayed back and forth.

"Because of the storms lately, we've been unable to parlay with the Pearl Divers, and so I thought it would be another couple of moons before a decent proper Night of Firsts but here we are!"

He reminds you of those college freshmen boys from Nash Hall at the University, joshing around and roughhousing as they walk down the hill to have a friday night on the town.

You hear drumming, and chanting and singing. Up ahead, you see there is a giant wood platform, no, a gigantic ancient stump, worn smooth and rubbed with oil, serving as a giant dance floor. Twenty to thirty men, all in grass skirts, shirtless, jumped and whooped, dancing and singing, on that stump. Hanging from net baskets, drummers pounded away a rhythm into the night and everywhere, flaming torches.

"Are you ready Fatafata?" He cups his hand to his mouth preparing to shout.

"Wait, why do you keep calling me that?" He looks at you guiltily.

"It's just a little nickname.'

"What does it mean?"

"Literally it means 'the one with breasts' but if I'm being honest, it's closer to 'one who's tits you think about when you touch yourself'." He grins. "Anyway, I'm Paol."

"Thanks Paol, I'm Brenna." You deadpan.

"PRESENTING - THE SECOND BLESSING OF THE EVENING!" He shouts - the drums go wild and the men below let up a ferocious cheer. The men below - your eyes frantically scan the dancers, the musicians, those watching from above, all men. An entire village of men.

Paol leads you down to the mosh pit, the dancers pull back revealing a large man standing in the middle of the scrum, he wears a tall headdress of shimmering rainbow colored feathers atop his tangled dark curly hair. Though he wore a grass skirt, and looked far more muscular than you remember from Italy, he was clearly Orlando.

"Bring her to me!" He commands as you are drawn to the center of the circle. The men begin a low mummer.

Orlando turns and announces to the crowd. "Tonight is the night of firsts! Those who have claimed their manhood but not yet experienced the touch of a woman and wish to do so, this is your night. We have captured another, look on her!"

The mummering in the crowd gets louder. "Look at those full hips, those curved legs, and that chest. She is woman!"

"She is woman." The crowd echoes back.

"She is goddess!" Orlando commands.

"She is goddess!" They cry out.

"And tonight, she will be yours!" The drums go wild, the men jump and writhe around you, leaping and whooping. Orlando pulls at the vines holding your wrists, pulling you in close.

You stumble in close, your face inches from his. He sees you, for the first time in the flickering evening light, he sees you and a moment of recognition passes before his eyes.

"I know you, don't I? How could I know you?" He shakes his head.

"No matter, it is time. As is tradition, you may make the first choice. . . "

A hush falls over the crowd.

"I choose you for my night of firsts!" You say, pointing towards the Chief. The chief throws back his head and laughs.

"Silly woman, I have long since had my night of firsts." The crowd laughs. He looks you up and down.

"But, as chief, I do have the right to sample the spoils of victory first . . ."

"BOOO!!" the crowd jeered - the Chief gave them a rude gesture. "Strike up the drums, the other shall return soon and another will be chosen!" A horn warbled and the deep drumbeat thrummed through the crowd as they began to dance.

He grabs your bound wrists and with a forceful jerk, hauls you forward, leading you through the crowd to a rope bridge that slowly ascends to a massive twisted beast of a tree. You circle around it, slowly rising in elevation as you weave through branches and hanging lanterns.

Orlando, or rather the Chief, walks in silence, occasionally looking back to give you a tug on the rope. Finally you reach a well lit bamboo house nestled between three sturdy branches. He pushes the grass door aside and pulls you in after him.

Inside, you see a bed of furs next to an urn of hot coals. He pulls you over to a wooden ring installed in the ceiling and runs the rope connected to your wrists through it, pulling you taut on your feet and securing it to the wall.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, half-fearful, half-hopeful. He pulls out a wineskin from a hook and takes a hearty swig. He comes over and lowers his face so it is level with yours. You sway forward, your breath already coming in excited gasps.

"I want answers. Tell me, why do I know your face?" His eyes tracing your barely concealed chest and your hips, swaying back and forth as you hang from the ceiling. "More than your face."

He reaches out, pulling one of the straps of cloth off your shoulder, revealing the full top curve of your right breast. With his stiff fingers, he reaches down, into the remains of your shirt and strokes your nipple - a shudder running through your body. You take a deep breath, trying to stay focused.

"Please, if you check my pocket, there is something there that should help explain." He releases your nipple and slowly works his way down, gently brushing your stomach and hips before working his way inside your pocket.

He withdraws the folded piece of cloth - opening it to reveal eight red mushrooms.

"You are a witch! You meant to ensorcell me!" He holds the mushrooms under your nose.

"No, not that!" You snap. "The other pocket."

"Oh, oh, I've found your satchel of magic now. Tell me, what are they?"

Thinking quickly. "They are magic mushrooms and they make you very sexually potent."

"Others may have been taken in by your sorcery, but not I! Do you think me as gullible as a child?" He grabs two of them and quick as a snake, shoves them into your mouth, holding your nose. You swallow, by instinct, and they burn all the way down.

Oh fuck, you think, this better turn out the way you are expecting or you are in for a world of suffering. The inside of the hut spins . . . no, that is you, slowly turning around, trying to find your balance with your arms outstretched. Already that heat has coiled at the bottom of your belly and is making its way further south, deep into your groin.

The Chief takes off his headdress and spreads out on the furs, his grass skirt parting occasionally giving you a peak of his firm manhood. Fuck, you are already wet, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, tensing your legs, trying to get some stimulation, any sort of stimulation.

"Tell me, strangely garbed witch, how I know your face but you have never set foot in our village?" He takes a swill from the wineskin, little droplets falling carelessly on his rugged dark chest.

"Did you walk into my dreams and make love to me while I slept?" Oh god, the image of you bent over his desk in the trailer as he thrust into you. You bite your lip, trying to hold a moan.

"Please." you plead. "Check the other pocket, it has the answers." It feels oddly warm, pressing against your thighs, your aching thighs, tingling with anticipation.

"No no, you explain them to me." a smug grin plays on his lips.

"I . . . can't." You pant, gasping for air, as the fire sweeps through your body. This is more than you took at Kayla's house. This is more than you thought possible. Your nipples threaten to rip free of the remains of your shirt, your hips are humping at the air.

"Please . . . help me!" you cry. He stands, slowly walking around you in a circle watching your writhing body, twisting this way and that from the roof of the hut.

"My my, you were telling the truth." Your own excitement has soaked your pants as you thrust backwards at him, trying to touch him. The watch burns, searing hot, vibrating with energy.

With one strong movement, he yanks your pants down to your ankles clear off. No longer wearing underwear, the hot air sweeps over your throbbing sex.

"You are a beautiful witch, I would hate for your blessings to go unenjoyed." He puts one hand on the small of your back, leaning you forward, spreading your legs. With the other hand, he traces your outermost lips, just the barest of touches from behind.

You buck, pushing backwards but he holds you steady. He slides one long finger up into you and slowly, agonizingly slowly, starts to rub your clitoris from the inside. You scream in mounting frustration, squeezing frantically with all your inner muscles. He withdraws and then enters again, dripping wet, working the clit with his middle finger and rubbing the inside with his thumb.

The world erupts in white as you moan an open mouthed cry. You clench down on him and gush all over his arm. You sag forward, but the fire is not gone.

It still has you. You rock your hips again, urging him onward.

"Please," you moan. "Please!" He pulls his hand out of you and steads himself against your writhing butt. You feel it, hard and thick, pressing up, up against you and then he slides it all the way.

"AhhhhhHHhhh!" your satisfaction fills the air as he bottoms out inside you, deep and thick. He pulls back, the bulbous head rubbing that perfect spot as he pulls out. He gives a satisfied grunt and then slams it into you. His balls slap against your mound as he rails in and out of you, harder and faster. He works your cunt like a flesh doll, using you for his pleasure. Your arms ache as he rams into you, the wet slapping filling the air. Each jolt sweeps through you, each thrust a mini-orgasm. Your head lolls back and forth, his hands reach forward, groping at your full breasts as he uses you mercilessly.

You look back, a thick sheen of sweat coats his chest, his eyes screwed up tight, his butt clenched as he rides you hard and roughly.

He swells inside you, hard and tight. He's in you deep, lifting your legs off the ground and setting you on his muscular thighs, your legs interlocking behind his knees. You clench, squeezing him from within as you feel the first gush inside you, a splash deep within your pussy. His balls jump as he empties load after load into your sex.

Your whole body goes rigid as the orgasm sweeps through you, like a white hot beam shooting from the ground up through your groin and rippling out through the universe.

You finally breathe, having somewhat forgotten what that, or any other sensation, felt like. You loosen your grip on his legs and he sets you down on the bamboo floor. His excitement and yours flows out of you like a river, his grass skirt coated and sticky. He sheds his skirt and unties the rope binding you to the ceiling. You slump to your knees, rubbing your chapped wrists.

He turns to the door and beats a cymbal hanging next to his house.

"What was that?" You ask, finally able to form words.