Pleasure Island [The Chronicles of Lidir] (26 page)

While this was happening, Ikahiti was merely rubbing Anya's nipples, which by now were very sensitive and standing very hard. When the hand stopped rubbing and moved down her belly, Anya tensed. Ikahiti began toying with the wet skin ribbon, lifting it and placing it against Anya's thigh, fitting it to the crease beside the sex lips on one side then the other, then opening the lips and laying the ribbon between them before pursing them around it. Then she closed her hand around the sex, which throbbed very gently in her palm, and with her middle finger, tickled the end of the ribbon that projected. Anya, turning, pressed her back against Ikahiti's belly and felt the warm bare skin and the band of Ikahiti's belt against her bottom and the rounded breasts pressed against her back. And again she felt the fingertips teasing her pleasure-tortured nipples while the hand enclosed the flesh between her thighs. She felt Ikahiti's breath against the side of her neck. She wanted this woman to take her.

The girl had dismounted from the man and he had been turned on his side. She was sucking and playing with the stone, slipping it around inside his plum. She would take the cockstem fully in her mouth at times and suck, while the man stayed completely motionless and the woman, lying behind him, rubbed the flesh beneath his bag, pressing with her knuckles, kneading, then wetting her fingertips and rubbing the spittle in until it dried. But the fingertips were now replaced by the long purple fruit, rubbed back and forth under his bag while the young girl sucked until he tried to push, when her pouted lips retreated and hovered at a distance of an inch. Then the short rod, held in the young girl's mouth now, pushed out through her teeth and entered him and he was held threaded on this rod while the long fruit, rubbing back and forth, progressively slipped towards the groove. The tongue pushed the short rod fully within, the lips enveloped him and held him, squeezed tight around him and sucked while the long fruit, pushing against the tight resistance, slowly entered. Yet his body did not move as his pleasure came; the lips retreated without the rod; the woman's fingertips held him collared round the base. The fruit slid in and it was as if that impulsion pushed the milt out smoothly, in a sliding stream which forced the stop out and rapidly flowed into the girl's cupped palm to form a small viscid pool in which the short rod floated. She removed the rod and quickly lifted her palm and drank and only then did the pleasure come on fully, with a shudder. She cupped her palm again, but the powerful pumping, somehow withheld until this point made him overshoot and most of the yield of this second spasm ran down her wrist and dribbled to the ground.

Anya felt the hand around her sex lift away; then the skin ribbon was raised, which peeled her sex lips open. She felt the ribbon sliding through the ring. The pleasure almost came. She turned on to her back. Ikahiti was above her. She opened her thighs and Ikahiti slid between them. Anya felt the narrow hips between her legs, the bare bronze belly touching her own, the soft skin belt against her and the bare sex moving, urgently searching. She gasped as the tight firm sex lips separated her own. Something hard pressed against her; it felt like a ball; it was a ball attached to Ikahiti's nubbin. The ball searched, rubbed and pressed until it found her nubbin too, then it rolled against her and the feeling was delicious, the gentle rolling pressure there while Ikahiti's hips lifted and careened, while Ikahiti's sex lips sought within, sucked upon her inner moisture and Ikahiti's small hard nipples stroked against her own. When Anya thought her belly would burst, Ikahiti's hips slowed, but did not stop for they were searching still. The soft brown eyes held her; Anya did not move; she tried to concentrate the swelling pressure there between her legs; then she felt the small ball touch, then lock into the ring and she was sealed to Ikahiti, nub to nub. Now Ikahiti's movements were minute; each movement evoked a whimper of delight. 'Ah,' said Anya, 'Ah! Oh, please ...?'

'Tika, tika-i,' Ikahiti whispered, but her voice was faltering too. There were tiny beads of perspiration on her upper lip. Anya lifted them on her tongue. 'Shirula,' Ikahiti whispered, gasping, 'Shirula - ah.' Anya's tongue pushed out again. Ikahiti caught that tongue and sucked it and nipped it with her teeth. The tiny movements still continued. Anya was drowning in those feelings, the pulling, the small ball pressed against her nub, soft sucking sensations between her legs, Ikahiti's wetness leaking, and the awful delicious feeling that a thread, knotted at her navel, passed through her nub and was anchored deep within Ikahiti. And that thread was being stretched to breaking. She lifted her legs and closed them down about Ikahiti's hips and brushed Ikahiti's bottom with her feet. She closed her arms about the back, and her fingers nipped the skin of those sweet bronzed shoulders. She held Ikahiti about the head and kissed her very deeply. And the pleasure came; it spread through Anya's body like a wave; it was as if her body were turned to honey inside, as if her body had split deliciously and she had swallowed Ikahiti up and enveloped her in that sweet warm heavy syrup. She wrapped her arms and legs and lips and sex about her very tightly.

They lay for a long while intertwined. Ikahiti's hand reached down between them and Anya felt a tiny stab of pain and they were separated. The woman and the girl had gone. So had the man. Ikahiti sat up. She looked anxious. It was the first time Anya had seen her that way. Anya felt very uneasy. The sun was low, a golden pillar of light striking through the long shadows of the trees. Then there came noises, low whoops and cries and higher pitched squeals and sounds of something crashing through the bushes. 'Chiriri! Rinyi!' Ikahiti hissed, her eyes now wide with terror, for sweeping swiftly towards them were many bronze-skinned men.

[12]

Taboo

Ikahiti ran but Anya, not quick enough in pursuit, was tackled and brought to the ground. Her captor fell on top of her and they ploughed into the sand. She screamed and kicked his legs but the bronzed arms held her tightly, confidently about the waist. She could hear the screams of other women and from the corner of her eye, she could see Ikahiti, half crouched and backing away with her broad knife drawn. Anya shouted for help. No help was forthcoming; Ikahiti turned again and ran as other men appeared and gathered round. And once again it was clear, from the murmurs of surprise, that these people had never seen a woman like her. The man let go of her and crouched back on his haunches. Anya lay on her side, her dishevelled red hair flecked with yellow sand, her freckled black-tipped bosom swelling with her rapid breathing, while her captors murmured and stared. Hardly daring to look up at the figures towering above her, her frightened eyes darted round from one pair of legs to the next, waiting for someone to make a move. But as the conversation continued above her head, her eyes timorously moved up.

The men were completely naked: they wore no jewellery or shells; they did not even carry a knife. She was struck not only by the bronzeness of their skin, but by the slimness of their bodies, and not all of them were young. Some had grey hair - on their heads - for, like the women, they had no belly hair. Her gaze drifted across the bareness between their legs and to the thick bronze fleshy stems that nestled against large round heavy-looking equally naked ballocks. As the men talked and shifted their stance, these fleshy appendages would move, expanding slightly or retracting and despite her fear, or perhaps because of it, her attention was constantly drawn. She began to imagine things - there seemed so many of these men. What might they make her do? What would it be like to be made to take these very large bare ballocks between her open thighs?

One of the older men bent over her and stroked her ankle. She tugged it away, but the hand moved quickly and caught it easily. 'No!' she cried, 'Let go!' and again there was surprise, at her tongue.

'Tirishu, sahu-lata?' said the man. 'Sahu-lata, shirin otei?'

Not knowing what he was saying only made her anxiety worse. 'Let go of me!' she cried again. But each time she tried to pull her foot away, his naked cockstem stirred. He drew up the captive foot and touched its sole against him. When Anya felt the warm clinging skin of those naked ballocks touch her, she screamed and broke away and tried to escape across the sand. Laughing now, the man caught her again around the waist and began to rub his hand against her belly. Then he murmured in surprise. His hand moved down; she tried to close her thighs. 'Tika, shin -' he whispered, then turned to his friends. 'Shiniki!' They crowded round. 'Shiniki,' they concurred as her legs were opened. Anya tensed. His fingertip brushed the black lips, then touched the ring; again she squirmed and tried to pull away. 'Shiniki,' said the man softly, almost reverently and with Anya's leg uplifted and her ankle collared by his hand, he touched the ring again. And at that light touch, while she watched his bare stem lifting and throbbing between his legs, her belly overturned. The man stood up. Before she knew what had happened, he had swept her up in his arms and slung her effortlessly over his shoulder.

'Tika, shirin,' he reprimanded when she kicked at first, then he held her with one arm locked firmly round the backs of her knees and the other resting over his shoulder and on her lower back. Then they were off, running quickly through the trees, with her knees against his taut belly, her bare breasts bobbing against the smooth bronze back and his short grey bristly hair rubbing against her side. And all that she could see as she looked down were the tight muscular buttocks tensing as the slim legs carried her across the sand then around an inlet and away from the village.

She was taken, along with perhaps eight or ten other girls who had been captured, through the arched gap in the far ridge that Miriri had pointed out that morning. Beyond it, the failing sun illuminated a cluster of huts which appeared to float in the middle of a lake or lagoon. But they could be reached on foot across a kind of floating bridge. When the party arrived, the women were distributed. There was much argument about Anya. In the end, the man who had carried her took her into a large hut which seemed to be subdivided into at least two rooms. In the centre of the first one was a bright fire and though the hut must have been built on a wooden platform, the visible floor was sand. He pointed to a heap of leaves beyond the fire. 'Lakita,' he said, but she knew well that it was a bed without him telling her and she would not sit upon it, nor even move in its direction. She stood firm. She refused. When she stared at him defiantly, his eyes sparkled and he stood before her with arms folded and head tilted to the side, then he shrugged at her and left.

On her own now, she knew not what to do. She looked askance at the curtained outer doorway. Should she try to leave? She glanced around the room. Unlike Miriri's hut, this place was bare of any decoration; there were only the fire and the bed, some pots and some spears standing against the wall. She walked over to these spears and picked one up to examine it. Perhaps she could use it - to threaten them at least - when they returned? Then she remembered that they had carried no weapons during their raid, and she thought that rather strange. Clutching the spear, she advanced through the gap in the reed partition and into the inner room. It was dark, but it too was almost empty apart from a bed of leaves, and there was no other exit that she could see.

She was still standing at the entrance to this inner room when the grey-haired man came back. Automatically and defensively, she turned and her hand still held the spear. 'Keep away!' She held it up, setting her jaw and jabbing the spear towards him. He said nothing in reply, but drew his shoulders back, which made his chest expand. Anya became more worried still as he stepped forwards, causing the point of the spear to press against the bare unwrinkled skin in the centre of his chest. His eyes were unflinching; hers were not. Her arm, very stiff now from fear, moved involuntarily in a tiny nervous jerk. She gasped and her mouth stayed open - she had not the strength to close it when she saw what she had done. From the indentation at the point of the spear, a thick droplet of blood welled and trickled down the centre line of his chest, towards his belly. The spear was so sharp that that one small movement had pierced him. He glanced down at the spearpoint and the welling line of blood, then again fixed her with his gaze. But he did not move back. Her arm, so stiff before, felt suddenly boneless as she stared into those dark and penetrating eyes. She had wounded him and he had let her do it, without retaliation. The spear dropped to the ground and Anya almost followed it as the blood continued welling. Her eyes alone - wide, liquefying into two thick teardrops that refused to break and run - begged for forgiveness; she could not otherwise move.

His eyes expanded to engulf her. His lips moved: 'Aniya,' he said and his fingers lifted and touched the long red strand of her hair that lay across the upper arm that had held the spear. How did he know her name? 'Aniya,' he said again and the fingers touched the skin upon the muscle of that same arm that had now gone very limp indeed. 'Shanam,' he said and pointed to himself and smiled. But his fingertips, where they had touched his breast, were smeared with blood. He smiled again and shrugged, but she could not smile back at a man she had only just stabbed, not when she couldn't even find the strength to apologise to him.

Then another man came in, much younger, also slim but slightly taller, with matt black hair. 'Ranil,' said Shanam. Anya looked from one completely naked body to the other and watched Shanam point out, seemingly with pride, the dark red runnel down his middle. As Shanam pronounced again that word, 'Shiniki,' in a hesitant whisper which seemed to bear such considerable meaning, though Anya did not understand it, she watched the other's eyes drink her in and the thick stem thicken between his legs and she had to will her body to breathe. Her breathing was slowing to a pace where it could not keep up with her heartbeat and she felt as if her belly was turning over. Yet she did not move. She just stood there until Shanam pointed to the bed again. That brought her to her senses. He tried to take her hand.