Something for My Mentor

dearest Mentor,

Sir requested a fantasy from me recently. i was thinking about what to write about when i remembered that you had suggested fantasy-writing to me at least a couple of times when we first started chatting. it seems an oversight that i never sent you anything. i hope to remedy that now by forwarding this tiny effort to you. truly, i'm not sure whether it's Good, Bad or Other that i was thinking of you (and something that i know you like) while composing erotica for Sir. ANYWAY, here it is and please be kind...

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a naked human in Nature is the picture of vulnerability. a person is more susceptible to temperature and texture when not clothed, but perhaps even more keenly aware of it while outdoors. i have this tiny, niggling fantasy of being tied with rough cord to a yew or an oak (i can only hope it's consensual for the tree). i am thusly-affixed just before twilight, so that when the light of the full moon begins to filter through the leaves and dapple my bare skin, i am quite agitated. the insects have performed their little merriments and i no longer am troubled by the buzz and whine of their ministrations. i feel the imprint of the bark behind me firmly embossed into my derriere. the itch of the scratchy rope has not abated in the slightest, but i have relegated that sensation to the same category as the bugs: "tolerable nuisance." i am uncomfortable, but strangely, feel quite safe. it is the curiosity for what must come, for what will happen, that holds my attention. in this dither, i am aware of forest noises, but listen more closely as time passes. there seems to be an underscore, a backbeat... i listen keenly for His approach.

i know something of why i am here. i am an offering, a thing. my body is here to appease Him, encourage Him to ensure continued fertility for my people. there is comfort in knowing that this has been done many times and that i am not the first, nor will i be the last. i have merely taken my position and met my fate in this place, the nighttime forest.

secure in this inevitability, i wait. the night air cools slightly as though shaking hands with the warmth of the day, bewitching my body with the changing temperatures. as i am splayed on the tree, the immobility plays a symphony of numbness, tiny aches, and the fire of tautly-drawn muscles with my straining body. "tolerable," i chant under my breath, eyes closed... "tolerable."

it is then that i hear Him.

His face materializes from the foliage so subtly that my brain tries to convince me of the unreality of it... but every pore of my body knows that it is indeed the Green One. He edges nearer, slowly... inexorably... until i feel His warm breath on my cheek. the Earth Itself has opened up and stands before me, bemused.

there are no words. how can there be words when we both know our archetypal place and that any questions are answered as quickly as they are formed? only those guttural sounds as the other animals around us might make joins the cacophony of the weald.

i feel the feathery caress of leaves comfort my bitten skin. they are smooth like the kisses he bestows upon my naked belly. He is everywhere at once, but i register stray sensations, one at a time, as though in a fog of His affection. the tickle of Him at my ankles, the tease of His scratches at my engorged nipples causes the warming that creeps from my face to my chest and a delicious spread of fervor to my undergrowth, moistening...

i close my eyes and gasp as His twig snaps me in two. the solid woodiness of it arches my back and impresses the bonds into my flesh. He is up and into me repeatedly, softly and forcefully by turns, as it amuses Him to see my face darken with a craving for Him. my body trembles for Him, then convulses and gushes onto the earth from pleasures untold.

He releases me and i fall to my knees, the rope moist and twisted at my feet. my flesh is alive with the tumult of sensation. a gentle wind cools my warmed backside and lifts the curly tendrils of hair at the nape of my neck. struggling for composure is useless as my desire to have Him overrides any polite tendencies.

i reach for Him as i would a man, to take him into my mouth and taste the sweet earth, but truly, i realize that the branch before me is just a branch. the leaves are just leaves. He is gone. only the distant chuckle carried to me on mystical zephyrs suggest that He was ever there...

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you like? or thought it horrible? either way, i hope to catch up with you soon regarding this fantasy.

as ever, thank you for your consideration.

your, um, slightly irreverent ward