When her last shred of hope faltered she saw a light materialize, a strange gleaming oval that came towards her from somewhere within the labyrinth. Her senses began to revive. As the luminous blur got closer she saw it resembled a face, the face of a man. His eyes glowed. He carried no light, but his gaunt face shone, suspended in darkness. When he drew to a halt before her she became mesmerized by the fierce intensity in his eyes. He said nothing, but his gaze searched her face eagerly, as if to learn more about her. Then he reached out and unleashed one of her arms from the mighty grip of the ivy, taking her hand and caressing it, an action that both freed her and entrapped her anew.
With immense effort she spoke. "Who are you? What is this place?"
At first he did not answer. Smiling briefly, he continued to stroke away the vines. As his touch passed over her it enlivened her body with unfamiliar sensations.
Tara stood before him, uncovered. She could not draw her gaze from his strange face. His skin looked delicate, almost transparent, and it was laced with spindly veins close to the surface. A strange unearthly glow that came from within gave his skin a hue and texture like that found on the translucent surface of a pale orchid. His dark hair scrolled over his shoulder, like a wild creeping vine. He was like no other man she had seen before.
"Have you come to save me?"
His brow furrowed and she heard a deep resonant voice speak within her mind. "From what do you wish to be saved?"
Tara did not see his lips move.
He continued to search her face as she thought about his question.
Tara's senses altered. Time as she had known it had adjourned from them, she could sense its very suspension in the air. She could find no answer to his query.
He leaned forward and put his lips to hers in a seductive kiss.
Tara started, then melted, for it was the best thing she'd ever felt.
His lips were cool but sensuous in their touch. As she responded to the arousal he kindled in her the most beautiful sensations spread throughout her body. His lips gently parted. She felt the hard, tactile stem of his tongue and took it into her mouth, allowing it to beguile her senses further.
He was her mystical lover—the one who watched and waited for her, the one who had aroused her so when she lay on the tomb—Tara knew it.
A sweet and sudden understanding came over her as he imbued her body with his spirit. It was the spirit of Subterranea, the vitality of the dark undergrowth that thrust through the earth and held it in its powerful embrace. She readily exchanged all normal sensation for the exquisite feelings he aroused in her. He claimed her.
He groaned and whispered in her mind as he thrust into her. "I've been waiting for you."
Tara felt a sharp pain within, then heaviness stole deep within her loins, an energy that stunned her then dispersed pools of sensation through her body. She had been pinioned once more, but this time it was by her destined nocturnal lover.
Intense pleasure overcame her. Tara craved more. There was no fear in her now, only the joy of discovery. She drew back and saw that his body had melded with hers. Huge roots thrust forth from the earthy ground and ploughed into her body through his. They were entwined in a frenzy of organic stems that coiled around them and thrust within.
When she lifted her hand, she realized that it was now conjoined with his. They had become woven together with the plant in the rich pattern of nature's tapestry. She looked into his incandescent eyes and saw his true form reflected in their strange irises. She recognized it through some hidden aspect of her own nature, the aspect that had reached forth for its realization and fulfillment.
She closed her eyes and released herself fully to him.
A primeval and strident force rose up and took her over. Breathless with longing, Tara wrapped herself around him and rode the wave with him, reaching for something, something innate.
Roots and stems sought her out from the darkest corners of the labyrinth, greeting her, thrusting into her, filling her and embracing her. Her lover's eyes grew more luminous still as he gazed at her, his form pulsating and powerful as he claimed her.
"Oh, yes, I have found home," she cried out.
She felt the rush of sap within her veins. It was the sweetest nectar her body had ever known and she was carried high and long upon the wave of ecstasy it spread through her. Xylem and phloem bedded within her, and her new form took root and began to evolve.
* * *
Tara transmuted and transformed through their union and became as one with him.
The fecund earth became Tara's new home and she thrived in its succulent bed. Her mate guided her and together they crept forth through the fertile earth of their empire, to enmesh it with loving tendrils.
They made their seat finally upon that grave that had once felt so sensual to her. When her new-born leaves unfurled upon the memorial stone, she did not mourn the loss of the fragmentary life she had lived before, but celebrated instead the eternal cycle of the life that had claimed her as one of its own.
Subterranea, that from which all living things come, and that which reaches out to take them back and reinvent them once again.
THE TRUE FOLLY OF ICARUS
Icarus did not want to leave his father, but he knew he must.
"Go now, quickly son," his father said, "make your escape from Crete, and do it before the sun reaches its peak."
Icarus pulled his mask into place, inhaled deeply and moved his arms, measuring the weight of the wings that his father had cleverly formed upon him from feathers and wax. The wind was strong, and he could feel the air captured beneath the multitude of feathers. "I am ready," he assured his father.
"If anything goes wrong and you have to land in Crete, speak to no one, and keep your mask on. People will fear you and they will not stand in your way."
His father embraced him and then urged him on again.
Icarus ran into the wind, moving his arms as he did so. For a moment he thought it futile, then the air was trapped beneath his wings and his feet lifted from the ground. Gulping air, he moved his arms again, shocked at how powerful the wings were in harnessing the wind, and how easily he could ride on the breeze and direct his passage with a subtle change in the angle of his arms.
The experience was dazzling, and his spirit roared as he soared high above the spot where his father stood. "It is true, I can fly!"
"Fly to your freedom, son," his father shouted after him.
With one last wave in farewell, Icarus turned and headed off along the cliffs. Dipping and swooping, he flew above the rugged coastline, following it until he knew it was a good place to cross the sea to Sicily, where he would find safe haven.
As he made his way he marveled at how different the landscape looked from high above, and it intrigued him to see it so.
Later in his journey, just as he was about to head further out to sea and in the direction of Sicily, he caught sight of movement amongst a cluster of trees that were heavy with blossom. It was two young nymphs were cavorting together down there, and beautiful they were too, one dark haired, one fairer. Fascinated, he watched a moment, hovering low on the air currents, as the darker haired woman untied her chiton at each shoulder and let the thin woolen shift slide down over her torso.
Dusky-skinned and lusciously feminine in her figure, she captured his attention completely, making him forget his task and his fragile state of being, so high above the ground on makeshift wings. Then she moved closer to her companion and kissed her, and Icarus grew hard with longing.
He glanced back over his shoulder. He was a long way from the place where his father had launched him into freedom, perhaps far enough to be safe. His father had, however, urged him to stop for nothing and to fly to Sicily—or for as long as his wings lasted—but would it really hurt to land for a few moments to observe the two women?
His experience with the fair sex was far too limited, and his curiosity immense. If his escape plan was ill fated, he might be glad that he'd dallied a while
to observe such a delight, for he could think on it during the lonely nights. Perhaps if he went down there into the woods, he could hide between the trees and observe them, unseen. If he did that, however, would he be able to stop himself doing more, perhaps even approaching them? It was a risk.
The dilemma raged on in his thoughts, but when he caught sight of what the two women did to one another next, his reason was lost. He drew his wings lower and began his descent into the woodland.
* * *
The heat haze shimmered, but beneath the shade of the trees it was pleasant. Melete, naked and eager, urged Aglaia to undress too. Aglaia stood by the tree trunk and eyed Melete's naked form. Melete's nipples knotted as desire coursed through her. Aglaia's gaze on her always did that.
Aglaia's beautiful face was flushed with arousal. A legion of callow youths had already sworn their hearts to her, offering her tender words of poetry, their loins vital with desire. It was Melete to whom she came most often though, and an eager lover she was.
"I have longed for you today," Melete said. "Let me see you."
Aglaia lifted her skirts as far as her waist, slowly revealing her slender thighs and her intimate flesh to her lover.
Melete looked at her bare slit, where a drop of dew already glistened between the delicate folds of skin there. "You are already wet."
Aglaia nodded eagerly.
Melete brushed a fallen blossom from Aglaia's hair, unhitched her metal girdle then released her linen peplos from its catchments at her shoulder. Aglaia's breasts jutted out as she cast her girdle and robe aside, up tilted nipples the color of wine. The mound of flesh at the juncture of Aglaia's thighs was as rounded and firm as a ripe peach. Melete's mouth ached to bite the flesh, to suck on it so that her lover would squirm and beg.
Once undressed Melete pushed her against the tree and kissed Aglaia's mouth to quiet her moans while she plundered her womanly flesh with eager fingers. Aglaia's juices flowed rapidly and she shuddered and moaned, her graceful body supine in submission. Melete stroked and stroked, until she found her fingers delicately crushed and her hand completely drenched as Aglaia peaked.
"Oh, it feels so good," Aglaia whispered. "Too good. If the gods were to see us…should we not be ashamed of our lust?"
Melete smiled at her question. Aglaia was so candid and ripe, yet so unworldly. Melete was only a year or so older but she had indulged in many pleasures of the flesh. Chuckling, she lowered her head to suck at the firm berries of Aglaia's nipples, distracting her with actions instead of words.
An ebbing breeze suddenly came from somewhere beyond and wafted the scent of flowers back and forth over Aglaia's body. The sensation felt strange to Melete and her pulse tripped. There was a faint noise in the air, growing louder. Aglaia grew still. Melete lifted her head in response to Aglaia's sudden tension, as she did she noticed a stray white feather floating down beside them.
A shadow fell over them.
Aglaia's eyes widened, a strangled cry escaping her when she looked beyond her lover's shoulder.
"The gods saw us...they have sent a messenger to punish us," Aglaia stated.
Melete let go her hold and rolled back, turning to see what had frightened her friend so. As she did she gasped and clutched at Aglaia. The shadow had been made by a great winged creature, a huge bird with the body of a man and a masked face, who had apparently swooped down upon them. The two women clung together as they watched the creature landing. His wings moved slower, the draft from them slowly ebbing away as his flight ended. His eyes were bright within his mask, his chest rising and falling from his exertions.
Even in the grip of her fright Melete was becoming aware that the creature was interested in them, as they were in each other, for he looked at them with hungry, eager eyes. "I do not think that he has come down to us in anger."
The creature nodded at her words, his wind-ruffled hair falling forward as he did so. He drew his winged-arms across his bare chest and bowed his head before them, indicating that they should not be afraid.
Melete was fast becoming intrigued. What manner of creature was he? That he could change his physical form indicated that he must be of the gods. He was strong and well built, handsome and desirable to any lusty maiden. As well as that, the thin fabric belted around his hips could not disguise the arousal in his loins. His manhood stood erect and vigorous, jutting proudly towards them beneath the cloth. Melete's pulse quickened. Perhaps he had seen them from the heavens and had taken human form in order to come down and join them. She had heard stories of such happenings.
"I think he has come to us for pleasure, not punishment." She nodded down towards the tumescent bulge below his belted waist.
Aglaia looked and gasped. "He is desirous of us?"
"Yes, he is desirous of us...a god has come to pleasure you, Aglaia, are you ready to receive such an honor?"
Aglaia looked at the creature and her cheeks flushed.
"Let us see you," Melete said to him, eager to pursue this new adventure.
The god-man creature undid his belt, dropping the thin material aside to reveal the stout, long bough of his shaft. The two women moved as one, both turning towards him in anticipation. The creature's phallus twitched with eagerness when the full beauty of their feminine bodies was displayed to him.
"You wish to share yourself with us?" Melete asked.
He nodded, rapidly.
Somewhere at the back of her mind she wondered why he seemed so shy and why he was waiting for them to direct him. Then it occurred to her that his wings restricted him somewhat, so she beckoned with her hand, pointing to a large flattish rock. As he followed her lead, he drew his wings in around him. He sat down on the rock and she noticed how very hampered he was, in fact—by both wings and the engorged member that now looked positively stretched beyond its own capacity, it was so very large.
"Sire, we are made breathless and desperate by the sight of your proud phallus. It is so beautiful and hard a thing that we both wish to be closer to it."
The man-god creature moaned loudly as if in frustration and collapsed back onto the rock, his winged arms spread out on either side of him, his eyes closed in submission.
Melete glanced at Aglaia, whose eyebrows lifted in question.
"What now?" Aglaia whispered.
"He is ours." Melete responded. She snatched at Aglaia's hand, drawing her in. "You go first, are you ready?"
Aglaia trembled then nodded.
"Mount him, as you would a stallion," Melete instructed.
The creature moaned loudly again. The sound was fretful and anguished. Beneath his mask his eyes closed then opened again rapidly, focusing on the two women as they decided what to do with him. Aglaia kneeled astride his hips, then moved his erect phallus and pointed it to her centre.
Melete observed, and grew increasingly aroused. It made her want to rub herself until she too could have a ride. The crown was so large that Aglaia had to ease it in slowly, and her juices ran down the shaft, easing its passage. Once she had it fully inside her, Aglaia cried aloud, her hips moving more vigorously as she gained the measure of the beast she had mounted. There was much thrusting and grinding and Aglaia looked almost ready to collapse with pleasure.
Then the man-god grunted and his hips jerked. Aglaia let out a yowl, her body shuddering with release. Melete was entranced at the sight of her friend being pleasured by this strange creature.
"He truly was sent to us from the heavens," Aglaia whispered in awe as she rose to her feet, her hand cupping her mound. "I have been touched by a god."
Melete looked down at him, curious as to whether he would be up to the task of pleasuring her too. He was a man-god, if anyone could he could. But his breath was ragged, his eyes barely open. Melete smiled. A god in human form he may be, but apparently he was as susceptible to their womanly charms as any mortal man. Perhaps she could help him along, though.
He moaned with approval when she dropped to her knees and stroked his broad chest. Curious and e
ager, her fingers roved over his hard belly and then down to his groin. Her fingers settled on him and stirred. The power of his phallus growing beneath her fingers made her evermore aware of her own need. She wanted to feel that inside her and she was a willing slave to her lust. She bent down and kissed the swollen head of his rod and then tasted him. The tang of his essence was mixed with a more familiar flavor—that of her female lover.
The man-god was quickly rigid and ready once more. When he moaned with pleasure she reached for the sap-filled orbs that rested against his thigh, heavy and potent still. She felt the movement of them as they tightened against her hand and she sucked gently at the end of his shaft. The sense of urgency she felt drove her on. He was more than ready to be mounted again, so she climbed onto him and groaned as his sturdy erection stretched and filled her.
It felt so good that she rode up and down it vigorously, thrusting her hips at an angle in order to have it stroke her most responsive places. Each time the head of his mighty shaft pressed against her deep inside, intense pleasure bloomed in the pit of her belly.
Meanwhile Aglaia stood by, lips parted and eyes wide as she watched. Melete pulled on her own nipples to increase her pleasure, reveling in the gaze of both the man-god and the female audience. It made her wild. She moaned loudly and squeezed his shaft with her inner flesh.
Behind his mask the man-god's eyes begged her for his second release. The swell and throb of his pulsating rod was so intense that her tender flesh began to palpate and clench. Her release was upon her. At her centre, her flesh rippled around his shaft, her juices flooding as she hit her peak.
"By the gods, yes!" she cried, when she felt him tighten and reach beneath her, her tender places awash with the magnitude of his release.
* * *
Erotica Fantastica Page 3
