This story is copyrighted 2006 by Kaereni, may not be excerpted, reprinted, reproduced, or reposted in any form without the express written consent of the author.
The story contains sexual activities and situations that are to be read only by readers above the legal age of consent. All characters are above the legal age of consent. The story is not to be read in locations where such stories are illegal. If you are not of legal age, or live in the wrong place, please do not read.
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I was born along what is called the Tigress River in a time before calendars. We were a small tribe. Fishing and hunting game along the river was our way of life, a hard life though simple and uncomplicated. I grew up there, learning the things a woman needed to know; cooking, raising children, tanning hides and gathering the roots that grew in the shallow waters of the delta.
My parents had arranged for me to be joined with a fine young buck of the tribe once I reached maturity, and it was on the very day of our joining that my life was to change forever. While other memories of my past have faded like the mists of morning, this one clings to me still. With the union having been agreed by both families, we were standing before the shaman when a stranger walked into our village.
In the past, whenever strangers had entered our village unbidden they were driven away by our men folk wielding spears, and I fully expected this new stranger, unarmed as he was, to suffer the same fate. Yet instead of driving him away the men of the tribe fell to their knees before him, pressing their foreheads into the dust. Being uneducated, and little more than a child I could only stand and stare in disbelief.
At first I was shocked that he'd been allowed to walk up and interrupt the most important moment of my life. But even that emotion came nowhere close to what I saw happen next. Along with the men of the tribe, the elders also fell to their knees, even the shaman himself. Of the whole tribe I was the only one to remain on their feet as he stopped and looked into my eyes. Pale he was, though with a reddish tinge to his skin that hinted at too long a time spent in the noonday sun.
I could almost feel him reading my life story, as his eyes bored into my very soul, he looked me over not speaking. Without understanding why, I dropped my robes to the ground. I stripped off my shell bracelets, pulled everything from my body, dropping them to the ground until I stood before him bare as a newborn. He gave me a nod of approval before turning and walking out of the village with me trailing behind him like a lost dog. I could no more have resisted his will than stop the great golden spirit from climbing into the sky in the morning.
We traveled many miles that day without rest, without exchanging a single word and it was late evening before we stopped for the night. I couldn't understand what was happening to me, but stepped into the river and washed the ceremonial colored mud from my body, using the sand on the bank to scour it off. Only when I was clean did he touch me for the first time, taking my hand in his, leading me away from the river and laying me on the grassy bank. That night, the night that should have been my wedding night, he took me for the first time and made me his. Never in my whole life had I imagined the act that creates a child could be filled with such pleasures.
And as our lovemaking came to an end, he dug a flint from the soil where we lay and sliced open his finger before holding it to my lips. I reached out my tongue and tasted his blood for the first time. Sweet it was, like honey on the tip of my tongue, it's taste filled me with a strange hunger. We made love throughout the night, only stopping as the darkness fled.
Our days were all the same, walking without a break from dawn to dusk before cleansing our bodies of the dirt picked up from our travels. Our nights were long and full of pleasure. Not once did we stop to eat yet I was never hungry, at least not for food as I had known it. Our nights were spent like the first, furious and passionate lovemaking followed by my sucking gently on his cut finger. Suckling on his blood a drop at a time.
The days flowed together. The cycles of the moon went from full through each of its phases before returning again to full, and each day and night followed the same pattern. On occasion we would pass through villages, whose inhabitants would grovel in the dirt at our feet. The memory of my life before our meeting became unimportant to me, slowly fading from my mind. All that mattered was my god and I walking the world together, the rest seemed as a dream. Not once did he talk to me, not a word was spoken yet somehow I understood his needs and his wants.
It was on the night of a full moon that things began to change. We were making love and, instead of a cut finger to quench my thirst, he offered me his opened wrist. For several minutes I lay quiet, savoring his blood as it flowed like wine into my hungry mouth. When he pulled away and offered me the sharp rock, I knew what I had to do and sliced the stone into my arm as he had done. I expected it to hurt but there was no pain. As the morning came, we lay as one, our bodies locked together, moving in unison and each drinking from the other's wrist.
When we stopped next morning, the sun was high in the sky. His wrist had healed in a matter of minutes and, as we lay side by side, he held his hand over my wrist to stop my blood from flowing away. I fell asleep, and by the time I woke the stars were already swinging overhead. My body was covered in sweat, but instead of being clear and salty, it was red in color. He took my hand and led me to the river where he washed me with a tenderness I'd never felt before.
