Chapter 2, in which Artie is given only 2 choices
Why did I call these woods? Such a mediocre term for something so wild, tangled, primal & dangerous. I should have been terrified, looking for wild animals, making a weapon out of rocks, a tree branch, maybe even just going back & dealing with my dilemma.
And, yet, I was not afraid; in fact, peace wrapped around me, loosening my heart, my muscles, my very mind. I was looking, now, not reacting. I noticed I was in a wide, mossy, sunshine-then-dark swampland, racing around tangled roots of gigantic moss-laden trees, peeking at flowers with strange forms, giggling as dragonflies landed on me & took off again.
Giggling? Peace? I stopped & blinked. Why was I no longer terrified? Leaning against a tree, I breathed more slowly, focused. When I cast out my senses, I felt no one hunting me. He hadn't followed me. Maybe the dream was wrong. Maybe he was only a dream figure, after all.
I sat down on a stump, relieved. No hungry rape ghost. No dangerous animals. Just me, surrounded by nature, wondering at the light; moving around to get comfortable...my body made a wet noise.
I looked down, startled? Seriously, body? What aroused me? The flowers? Giggling again, looking left & right to make sure I was alone, I snuck my hand down my pants, into my panties, & snuck a little stroke on my labia, then panties, thighs. Right. Soaked right through my panties, a little trail down one thigh. Some damn flower power out here.
But then annoyance changed as pleasure throbbed. Oh, so sweet. When was the last time I indulged myself? Undoing my pants, I pushed my panties down to reveal my bush. How I liked to look as I played; my femaleness was an extreme turn on. Pleasure was soft with an ice edge, pain flirting around the edges, taming itself to keen delight. My finger began circling; my legs spread wider & I breathed out slowly as the pleasure was already at mid-point; I had to do so little, & I would come. Hard.
Just as I was reaching my peak, I heard soft ripping noises, then...a voice.
*
Wait. I paused, removing my fingers. There it was again; a soft, ripping noise, followed by a gentle, "Your life was not in waste; your seed will grow new plants, just not in this patch." And that soft female voice began singing my favorite Cocteau Twins song, Know Yourself at Every Age. Her voice made me shiver; I buttoned up, then crept towards an opening in the trees. I had to see her; the urge was a demanding need now, & my wetness was down both thighs.
There was a cabin tucked under the biggest tree roots I'd ever seen; the 2-story cabin had room for an attic, & some add-ons to left and right. The kitchen was obvious; herbs, tomatoes & other plants hung just inside the mullioned windows, & I had a glimpse of fireplace deeper within. And in the garden, kneeling & pulling weeds, was the woman of my dreams. Curvy, small like me, with smooth tan skin, wide cheeks, full lips & big eyes, brassy-gold-apricot hair in waves to past her waist. She wore African clothing; a head-wrap & body-wrap dress in shades of violet, magenta & indigo, with silver moons & gold suns & copper stars splashed over the fabric.
"Joule, you get your prissy ass in here; I sense de ghost again."
"Damn it!" She slammed both fists into the ground, let go of the weed, & sat up on her knees. "Why he got to be bothering us? We stay out here, he stays in there, like we agreed. How he like if I get up, go march in & demand my place, my daughter-right and yours, at my table?"
"I am no daughter, just flaming queer!" A beautiful dark man (?) came marching out, in green-brown-bronze robes that matched his bronze lipstick & colorful eyelids. Oh, wow, he was so tall...so pretty. Mercury would do his patented hit-squa-in-the-balls-with-lust move & beg for mercy...
A hand over my mouth. Another over my mouth. "I told you," a low voice snarled, as a man settled behind me, "You owe me a year, bitch!"
*
Fucking Turk! He'd probably tailed us all the way here, & waited in the swamp to get me, like the true ogre he was. I kicked backwards, & he laughed. "Get the Hell off of me, ugly beast!"
"Go on; call me Beast, my Beauty. Will only make the first fuck that much more mystical." Panting, he undid my pants, ripped them down, & inhaled. "Wet. I knew it; you need cock like any normal woman."
I screamed in rage, & struggled.
"Stop fighting!" He slammed me down, face into mud, & held me til I went limp.
When he pulled me out, dizzy, I heard Joule shout, "That's no ghost!"
"We now allow rapists in our woods!" the colorful man said, pulling out a switchblade & surging forth, face reddening. Joule was close behind with her sickle.
But Turk was too ready to indulge his lust; he tore my panties apart & quickly shoved two hastily-licked fingers up my ass. He knew I hated being touched there, & he'd been aching to break me with this move. I let out a scream of pain. "Let me go!"
Pushing harder, deeper, until I felt too full, needing the bathroom. The newcomers were behind him, but he laughed & rolled so I was on top of him. "Go ahead; try me. She'll be the one hurt. Or," his voice oily, "do you like to watch, queer boys? See a real man rape his lady's ass & dream it's yours?"
"Stop, stop!" I begged, as he moved rough fingers around in me, too hard, too probing.
"Make me, cunt!" he said, removing his messy fingers.
And he laughed that creepy laugh I knew too well. The hyena-laugh where his eyes lit up & his lips grew moist, before he did or said something outrageous that made everyone deeply uncomfortable. The laugh in first grade when we first met; at age 12 when I came of age & was a tiny but full-hipped & busty girl; when I joined the newspaper & he declared me his Muse Lover Doll; when he busted me as a psychic; when he raped my girlfriend so I'd submit & go to him willingly.
Rolling me back on my belly, slurping up spittle. "This all his mine," he rasped. And he moved to violate my vagina with his dirty fingers.
I couldn't reach my family in time. Who would help me? Who could save me in time??
