Tamed by the Creature from the Lagoon

by Clea Kinderton

  Are they planning to ... sacrifice me? I wondered with a shiver of horror. Throw me into the volcano?

  I looked down into the water swirling past the side of the canoe. If I launched myself over the side of the boat, I could try to swim free, but I would probably drown. I didn’t think I would be able to swim very well with my arms and legs tied.

  The man began talking to the captain of one of the other canoes, shouting over the crash of the waves and the pounding of the drums. I pulled surreptitiously at my bonds, testing them, but the more I struggled, the tighter they seemed to get. When the leader saw my attempt to free myself, he grabbed me by the back of the neck and shook me roughly, growling at me. He shook his head from side to side, a menacing scowl on his face, repeating a word over and over which I took to mean “no”.

  I quieted down, trying to resign myself to my fate. How had I come to the island in the first place? I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here. I knew that I’d been expecting a man in a wetsuit to come up out of the water, but I couldn’t remember who it was or how I knew him. Something was wrong.

  I didn’t have long to ponder these mysteries. Sooner than I’d imagined, the once distant island was filling the horizon. The great slate gray peak of the volcano stood in sharp relief against the clear blue sky, rising above a lush green jungle. A broad band of white sandy beach stretched down to the turquoise water. Men ran to and fro on the shore, calling and whistling to one another with excitement, and a second round of drums rose from somewhere deeper on the island, matching and overpowering the drums on the boats.

  The boats pulled ashore and the men jumped out, splashing through the water as they dragged the canoes onto land. Two men grabbed me by the armpits and lifted me off the boat, dragging me through the wet sand.

  A group of men appeared from the jungle, bearing a crude wooden throne mounted on long bamboo poles on their shoulders. They set it down on the beach and I was carried over to it and lowered down on the seat. The men untied my wrists and ankles and then rebound my wrists to the arms of the chair and my ankles to the legs. The seat of the chair was very shallow, little more than a ledge, and barely large enough for me to sit on. I found myself perched on the edge, with my legs spread wide, my sex exposed to the view of the entire band of men, who must have numbered close to sixty or seventy.

  Two men approached, carrying what appeared to be a large, elaborate headdress made of grass and brightly colored flowers. They placed the crown on my head and tied it in place under my chin with some soft, silky material. The crown was very light, but very broad and descended down the sides of my face, all but obscuring my peripheral vision. Another man tied a thick bouquet of flowers around my neck, draping them over my breasts, and two more men tied corsages around my wrists and ankles.

  An elderly man with a wise face approached bearing a platter holding a number of small bowls made of shells or bone. All of the bowls contained brightly colored powders except one, which seemed to contain water. The old man dipped one finger into the water and then the same finger into one of the colored powders and applied the makeup to my face with gentle strokes. He colored my eyelids, brows, cheeks, and lips, drew a large circle in red on my forehead, and then, inspecting his work and nodding with approval, carried away the tray.

  A young man, barely an adult, approached holding a large coconut cup and held it to my lips, indicating with a nod of his head that I should drink. I wondered briefly if it might be poison, but they’d put so much effort into their adornments that I doubted they’d so quickly dispatch me. The young man tilted the cup forward very gently and I sipped a cool, bittersweet, fermented liquid. It tasted like coconut and berries and something earthier, almost nutty. It flowed over my tongue like a thin syrup, but burned down my throat like alcohol.

  I felt an immediate tingling and warmth spread through my body, enlivening all of my senses. My nipples became erect, poking into the soft petals of the flowers, and blood rushed to my loins, swelling my lower lips and making me wet. The young man tipped the cup again and I drank more. We repeated the process several times, until the cup was empty, and by this point I was in a state of almost unbearable sexual arousal. I held the young man’s eyes with my own, begging him with looks and soft sighs and murmurs for some sort of release from the almost painful tension.

  “Please,” I said, looking down at his loincloth and licking my lips. “Take it out. Put it inside me.”

  The young man quickly averted his gaze and walked away.

  I looked around at the other men, eyes wild with desire, but they were all studiously avoiding making eye contact, looking down at the ground and chanting in low voices.

  I moaned in frustration, struggling with my bonds, attempting to free one of my hands so that I could attend to the overwhelming sensations in my groin. The need to be touched down there, to be stroked and licked and caressed, threatened to drive me insane.

  A group of men circled the throne and bent down, grabbing the poles of the litter. They lifted me up from the ground and placed the crude palanquin on their shoulders, bearing me up a path into the heart of the jungle. The sun had sunk behind the volcano and a deep dusk now filled the wood. A line of men on each side of the path bore a cup with a small flame rising from it, lighting our way. The flickering tendrils cast strange shadows on their stony faces and filled the air with an acrid, oily smoke.

  I begged the men to fuck me, promising to perform all manner of perverse services in exchange. They ignored my appeals, continuing to chant in their low voices as I moaned and writhed in my chair. I was in torment. My heart was racing, my stomach twisting itself into knots. The scent of the flowers was seeping into my brain, making me feel intoxicated. By the time we arrived in a clearing I was all but delirious.

  The sandy plot was surrounded by a tall, circular bamboo palisade with drummers stationed along its length. Four fire pits were arranged in a square in the center of the clearing, each stacked high with logs balanced in pyramid formations. The men were chanting louder now, keeping time with the music, and my litter was placed carefully in the center of the square of fire. The men untied my wrists, and then the back of my throne was lowered on a hinge so that I was laying flat on what was now a bench. My legs were still spread, my knees bent, and my feet planted firmly on the ground. My arms were bound again, this time above my head, and the flower necklace was arranged so that my breasts were exposed. I was so overwhelmed with desire by this point that I’d been reduced to plaintive moans and whimpers. I writhed, gyrating my hips, begging and pleading for some kind of release. The angry, desperate throbbing was almost unbearable.

  The drums and the chanting suddenly ceased and a second elderly man appeared. He had a strong, stern face and was wearing a tall crown of woven grass. He appeared to be the leader of the men and spoke in a loud, commanding voice. He recited what sounded like some sort of ritual, pausing periodically to let the men reply to his words with unified shouts. Finally, his speech concluded, all the men got together and quietly formed a line.

  I watched them as well as I could, raising my head from the bench to look at them. Their almost naked, muscular bodies called to me with a siren sweetness. I wanted to feel each and every one of them inside of me. The first man approached, a strong, handsome warrior, and he bowed respectfully to me.

  “Yes,” I moaned. “Yes. Please. Hurry.”

  I expected him to part his loincloth and enter me, but instead he dropped to a crouch between my legs and leaned forward. Placing his strong hands gently on my thighs, he extended his tongue and began to softly caress my clitoris.

  The sensation sent a shudder of pleasure through my body so intense it was almost painful. With only a few strokes of his tongue, I felt my body convulsing and had one of the strongest orgasms of my life. The man waited patiently for my groans and trembling to subside then politely licked me clean and departed with another respectful bow.

  A second man approached and repeated the first man’s bow.

 
; “Please. Fuck me,” I begged, yearning to feel someone — anyone — inside of me. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything!”

  The man knelt between my legs, and, copying the first man almost exactly, proceeded to pleasure me with his tongue. He nudged my clit in gentle circles, applying just the right amount of pressure, building me up quickly. When I was panting, he closed his lips around me, sucking on my pearl until I burst a second time, crying and shaking as the waves of my orgasm tore through me.

  Two more men approached, this time one walked to each side of me, formally bowed, and then crouched down beside me. They each gently cupped one breast and then bent down and began to kiss them. Their hot, wet tongues flickered over my rock-hard nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through my body. They closed their lips around the sensitive little nubs, sucking eagerly. Incredibly, I came a third time. This orgasm was both softer and stronger than my other orgasms had been, a sort of flowing full-body warmth and pulsating tingle. As soon as my moans began to subside, these two, too, stood up, respectfully bowed, and departed.

  It continued like this for a long time, with many variations. One, two, three, or even four men at a time would please me with their lips and tongues, sucking, licking, caressing every inch of my body, but carefully restraining themselves from placing any part of their bodies inside of me, or even exposing their penises to me, which I could tell by the tenting of their loincloths were very hard, and which I wanted very much to see, grab, suck, and feel thrusting inside of me. This continual teasing produced an endless series of orgasms which nevertheless failed to satisfy me in any deep, meaningful way. I knew after perhaps a dozen of these orgasms that I could never be satisfied until I felt their hard, thick cocks pulsating inside of me, twitching and straining as they filled me with semen.

  Eventually, however, each man had had a turn to feast on my body and there was no one left waiting in line. Though exhausted and lightheaded from all of my moaning, and tingling from head to foot in a permanent post-orgasmic glow, I was still desperate to be penetrated. I begged them with tears and whimpers, but they seemed deaf to my pleas. I wondered if my torment would ever cease.

  Then finally men approached and untied me, holding me tightly by the wrists to prevent me from tearing off their loincloths in savage lust. They repositioned me, tying me to the bench so that I was now face down, on my knees, my belly on the bench, my wrists tied to the arms in front of me. My naked vagina was exposed to them and I thought that finally now, for certain, they would each take a turn with me, stretching me open with their magnificent cocks and pumping me full of their life-giving sperm.

  But I was mistaken. A hush had fallen over the men and a single drum beat filled the night air. I heard the sound of a wooden gate creaking open behind me, and I turned my head, trying to see, but the broad leaves and flowers of the headdress obstructed my vision. I felt a chill of apprehension.

  Something was about to happen.

  I looked around in a panic. The faces of the men were frozen with barely restrained fear. Who was it that I heard approaching, their heavy footfalls crunching in the sand?

  A new sound arose that I couldn’t identify, a low, rasping trill that sounded for all the world like the deep, bass croaking of an enormous toad.

  I felt my heart skip a beat. Then it thundered, tripped, pounded, raced.

  I tried to jerk my arms free, but the vines were too tight. I felt a cold knot of fear settling into my belly, a shiver of dread down my spine, a shudder of cosmic terror deep in my loins. Whoever — whatever — was behind me, it wasn’t human.

  I heard its breathing now, deep and labored, like a dragon’s. Cold, dry hands gently closed around my hips and the points of sharp claws pricked my skin. The palms were unmistakably scaly.

  I moaned with fear, redoubling my efforts to escape, but it was futile. Even if I had been able to free myself, there was no way the circle of men surrounding me would let me go. My premonition had been correct all along: I was brought here to be their human sacrifice.

  I felt something cool, smooth and wet against my labia and flinched. It was slippery and somewhat rubbery but firm. I squirmed, groaning pitifully as the rounded tip gently parted my swollen, still-eager lips. I felt a long, thick, rigid member slowly stretching open my passage, sliding smoothly inside of me, as tender as a kiss. It filled me completely, pulsating softly, deep inside my belly. My fear disappeared almost immediately, overwhelmed by an exquisite surge of sexual arousal stronger than anything I had ever experienced before. I whimpered, this time with pleasure, and pushed back against my mysterious lover, pressing my bare buttocks against the dry, rough scales of its pelvis.

  The creature tightened its grip on my hips and began to gently thrust, fucking me with smooth, rhythmical strokes. The pleasure was intoxicating, voluptuous, almost breath-taking. The creature made a soft, soothing croaking sound and its shaft began to pulsate and vibrate, trembling exquisitely in my channel like a hummingbird’s wing. After only a few dozen thrusts I had a strong orgasm and clenched tightly around its member, breathing hard as waves of indescribable ecstasy washed through me. The creature let out a little ribbit, waited patiently until my body relaxed, and then resumed its methodical thrusting.

  In this manner, the scaly creature gave me several more climaxes, each one stronger than the last. It was almost more pleasure than I could bear and I soon found myself fearing for my life and wishing for it to end. I thought for sure that the relentless tide of orgasms would kill me.

  As if understanding my concern, the beast croaked loudly and proceeded to fuck me more vigorously, slapping its pelvis against my buttocks, intent on releasing its seed. The rapid, strong thrusting, combined with the vigorous vibration of its member, triggered a powerful burst of liquid from somewhere deep inside of me.

  I moaned loudly, squirting all over him, the slippery juice streaming down my thighs like a downpour. The monster’s cock suddenly hardened and swelled and began to violently jerk and strain. It let out a gasping bellow and I felt warm spurts of spunk flooding my vagina. Then, something even stranger happened: the creature’s cock began to swell rhythmically and rapidly against my G-spot. The intense, direct stimulation plunged me into a continuous wave of orgasms. I shook from head to toe, bucking and jerking against its body as my climaxes shuddered through me, threatening to tear me apart.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the vibration subsided, the swelling went down, and the creature gently pulled out. I felt a trickle of sperm flow out and run wetly down the inside of my leg. The creature made a pleasing trilling sound and then, abruptly, it was gone.

  I remained like that for some time, shivering in post-coital bliss. I’d never experienced anything like it. I doubted heroin could have given me a better high. Finally, the men came and untied me and gently lifted me in their arms. They carried me out of the clearing and placed me on a soft bed of moss in a small hut and then covered me with a blanket of woven flowers. I lay in the dim light cast by the torches outside the hut and then gently drifted to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  I rolled over. The moss had been replaced by my mattress, and the glow of the torches by the dim gleam of sunlight filtering in through the cracks around the shutters.

  In a flash, everything came back to me. I sat up with a start and looked down between my legs with amazement. I was soaked.

  What an incredible — but disturbing — dream!

  I was still throbbing with excitement at the memory of it, though I felt uncomfortable by just how exciting I’d found it. The bed was so wet I thought maybe I’d urinated, but there was no odor and the stain was clear. I mopped myself up with the sheet and tossed it on the floor to be washed. I’d have to wash the mattress cover as well.

  I grabbed my phone from the end table and checked the time. It was almost noon. I’d slept for almost twelve hours!

  I climbed out of bed, threw on my bath robe, and went to the kitchen to set up the coffee. The sky had a hazy look. I
could almost feel the pressure of the approaching storm.

  Today might not be the best day to go swimming in the lagoon, I thought bleakly.

  For some reason, in spite of yesterday’s frightening encounter with the unidentified watery animal, I was more enthusiastic than ever to explore its depths.

  I had a shower while I waited for my coffee and then got dressed. I poured myself a mug and took it outside onto the porch so that I could have an unobstructed view of the lagoon.

  The sky was an intense, almost murky blue, and there was a strong breeze rippling the surface of the water. Further out, the grass and shrubs on the sandbar were rustling, the waves of the ocean high and choppy. The distant boats of the marina were all present and securely anchored.

  A dead palm branch, jostled free of the tree by the wind, fell to the ground beside the porch with a soft rustle. I suddenly recalled the breaking branch sound I’d heard the night before last and decided to investigate.

  I went back inside, set down my mug on the island in the kitchen, and retrieved Dan’s rifle from the closet. I checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded and went back outside. I didn’t expect to need the rifle, but if there was a vagrant — human or otherwise — lurking about, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  I checked the shed first. It was empty and didn’t appear to have been disturbed since the last time Chet and I had examined it.

  I followed the edge of the cabin and went around back, holding the rifle up in front of me, hand tightly gripping the forestock. The grass behind the cabin had grown to a height of three or four feet, and climbing shrubs had begun to grow up along the back of the wall. There was only a short space between the cabin and the trees.

  I came to the bedroom window and stopped, my heart leaping in my chest. The grass below the window had been crushed down in a sort of bed just large enough for a human or a small bear. I stood in the spot and looked at the wall of the cabin. The bedroom window was at least six feet above the ground. I could have grabbed the window ledge and pulled myself up to look inside, but I wasn’t tall enough to see in otherwise. If there had been someone spying on me through the window, they would have had to be at least six and a half feet tall. There were odd scratch marks on the windowsill, but they could have as easily been left by squirrels.