(IN THE LAST CHAPTER: Boston private eye Karen Solomon is kidnapped, stripped naked, drugged with an aphrodisiac, and kept by herself on a ship, where she helplessly masturbates. She awakens, still naked, on a tropical island. At first she believes she’s alone, then she hears a voice.)
Karen whirled, her right hand reflexively covering her pubic area, her left stretching across her chest to hide her nipples. It took a moment for her sun-blinded eyes to find the source of the voice in the heavy shadows beneath the palms.
A young woman emerged from the trees. Like Karen, she was also completely naked. Her skin was deeply tanned, and she gleamed with sweat, which made her look almost as if she were made of shining wood. Her nipples were darker brown , with leathery aureolas. Her body hair was thick and untended, from the black hair on her lower legs to the thick ebony curls between her thighs. Long dark tufts peeked out from her underarms. The hair on her head was a mare’s nest of tangles, with leaves and twigs stuck in places. She looked wild, but she’d spoken English.
“Who are you?” Karen demanded, but her voice sounded shaky and pathetic.
Despite everything, the woman had a serene, peaceful quality. “I’m Sister Agnes,” she said, as if they’d met on a city street somewhere. “I know how confused you must be. Let me help you.”
“Agnes Cheever?” Karen asked. “Sister Agnes Cheever of St. Mary’s in Boston?”
The girl nodded.
Karen began to laugh at the absurdity. “You won’t believe this, but your parents hired me to find you.”
The girl’s serene expression darkened. “You mean they don’t believe I’m dead?”
Karen shook her head, still giggling like a madwoman. “No, they don’t. I’m Karen Solomon. I’m a private detective they hired to find you. They believed you’d been kidnapped, which was right. They thought it had to be white slavers or something. They never guessed your own Church had done it.”
Agnes’ lip trembled, and for a moment she seemed about to cry. Then she recovered her composure. “I’m sad for that. It would be better if they believed I was dead.” She looked down and, without meeting Karen’s eyes, asked, “How long have I been missing?”
“You disappeared two years ago.”
She nodded. “Then my little ad hoc calendar is fairly accurate.”
Karen licked her dry lips. The sun on her shoulders seemed to have physical weight, and sweat stung her eyes. “Where the hell are we, Agnes?”
Agnes looked up, eyes shiny with tears, but managed a smile. “I have no idea. It’s an island, I know that. Somewhere in the tropics, as you can no doubt tell. Let’s get you out of this sun, you’ll be red as a lobster before long.”
She stepped close and gently pulled Karen’s left hand away. Until she did so, Karen had not realized she was, in fact, squeezing that breast and enjoying the sensation of her palm flat against her nipple. Agnes threaded her own fingers through Karen’s and guided her toward the shadows beneath the trees.
Karen studied the other woman’s bare body. Every muscle was starkly visible, not developed as if she’d been working out, but the way someone looked when they lost all their body fat. Her breasts were small but full, and her behind rippled with each step. Smears of dirt and sweat covered her, though, and a small cloud of gnats rose from her tangled hair.
They passed a tree marked with a cross cut crudely into the bark, and ahead Karen saw another one. Judging from the clear dirt beneath their bare feet, the trail was well-traveled, and in a short time they reached their destination: a lean-to made of branches, leaves and vines over the mouth of a small cave. To one side, a deep, dark pool of water bubbled up from a spring. This was all in the shade of a huge rock outcropping that rose higher than the treetops. It was cooler in the shade, but the humidity was still overwhelming.
Agnes stood to one side and gestured into the shelter. Karen crouched and entered. She sat on a floor made of soft moss, and Agnes crawled in behind her. In the close, still air, Karen could smell the other woman’s sweaty, unwashed body.
“The water in the spring is safe to drink,” Agnes said. “Be careful of your exposure to the sun until your tan catches up.” She put one nut-brown arm against Karen’s pale one for comparison. “It’ll take you awhile.”
“I don’t plan to be here long enough to get a tan,” Karen said. “First I need to find some clothes, and then get back to civilization.”
Agnes smiled. “Believe it or not, that’s what all of them say at first.”
It took Karen a moment to comprehend the meaning of the words. “Who are ‘all of them’?”
“The other castaways. Politicians, writers, academics. Some lawyers and police officers. At least one military officer.”
Karen blushed at the thought that these men might see her naked. And the thought also sent an unexpected, undeniable surge of arousal through her that left her nipples hard and tingled between her legs. What the hell was wrong with her? “If there’s that many men here–”
“There are no men here, Karen. Only women. All those people I mentioned are female. All marooned here naked, like you and me.”
Karen felt panic welling in her chest, displacing the horniness. “Why?” she asked as a whisper.
Karen brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair from Karen’s face. “They posed a threat to the Church. The male power structure could not accept any serious challenges to their authority, but at the same time, there was a serious edict against killing. It *is* one of the commandments, after all. So this,” she gestured around her, “is the alternative. A place to get troublesome women out of the way. Out of the world.”
Karen began to tremble. This was madness, it couldn’t be true…could it?
Agnes scooted closer and put her hand on Karen’s shoulder. The sense of skin on skin made Karen shudder, and vivid memories of her time on the ship rushed back with a vengeance. She tried to speak but no words would come out.
Agnes looked into her eyes. “I understand,” she said compassionately.
“Understand what?” Karen managed to croak. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and tender, and she was hypersensitive between her legs. The urge to touch herself, as she’d done for days on her trip here, was almost more than she could resist.
Agnes’s hand trailed down Karen’s upper arm. “The drugs they gave you on the ship are still affecting you. I understand, because they gave the same one to me. I lay in that same room, on that same grimy mattress, doing the same things you did. I couldn’t resist it; no woman could. They know that.”
Karen felt tears well in her eyes. “I wanted to fight it,” she said in a shuddering whisper. “I wanted to try to escape. But I just couldn’t stop….”
“And that’s its purpose, to keep us occupied,” Agnes said. She moved a hand to Karen’s cheek and wiped away a tear. “It does wear off, but it can take time. Days, if you fight it. But if you indulge it….” She lowered her hand and rested her fingertips feather-light on the upper curve of Karen’s breast. “It burns away much faster.”
Karen looked into the nun’s calm, comforting eyes. Agnes ran the pad of her thumb over Karen’s now-rock-hard nipple.
“This isn’t…I shouldn’t…I have to get moving,” Karen said, her head spinning. She felt herself grow wet again, and her belly tingled the way it did just before…. “Have to find help, clothes, something….”
“You’re free to go, of course. But I think you should really consider how your body feels right now. It won’t get less…uncomfortable for several days, if we don’t burn it out of your system.” She leaned closer, and Karen could smell the nun’s heavy, vaguely fruit-scented breath. “But I’m offering to help you get through this immediate torment more quickly than you can on your own.” To emphasize this, Agnes very gently put her thumb and forefinger around Karen’s nipple and squeezed.
“Oh, god,” Karen said in a shuddering whisper. Her breasts felt heavier than ever, their unsupported weight pulling her down into the other woman’s hand. Karen had never felt so female in her life.
“I know,” Agnes said sadly. “I felt the same way when I arrived.”
Karen closed her eyes and leaned close, her breasts now brushing against Agnes’s. The touch of another’s skin, the thing that she’d ached for so much on the ship, was irresistible. “I’m not a lesbian, Agnes,” she said, her cheek against the nun’s. “I’ve never….”
“Nor am I.” She kissed Karen lightly, almost chastely, on the lips. “Like you, I’m a castaway. A prisoner here. But I am still, as a daughter of Christ, obligated to help those less fortunate.”
Karen, her eyes still closed, tried to continue the kiss, opening her mouth and extending her tongue, but she found only air. Agnes had turned away.
“No kisses,” Agnes said. “This is not about love. It’s about kindness. Now…lie back. The moss is soft.”
Agnes guided Karen down, onto her back. As she promised, the moss was soft against her spine and shoulders. Agnes stretched out beside her, and Karen’s body ached with response to the sensation of another’s flesh reclined against her own. Their mutually sweaty limbs slid against each other, and Karen felt the crush of Agnes’s thick pubic hair against her hip.
Agnes rested a hand on Karen’s heaving stomach, sliding it in the sweat that covered her. “I need to warn you. Your responses may be…extreme. The drugs render your most sensitive areas even more sensitive, and as a result…you will experience things more strongly than you ever thought possible. Do you understand this?”
Karen could barely choke out the word, “Yes.”
She felt Agnes move down, then slowly guide her feet apart. *Oh, my God,* Karen thought, *she can’t, I haven’t bathed, she mustn’t, I’m not this way, I can’t–*
Agnes knelt between Karen’s legs. She leaned forward and her rough hands cupped Karen’s vulva. The detective tossed her head, tried to protest, but the sensation was too vivid, her body’s need too strong. She reached her right hand down toward her raging vagina, the way she’d done on the ship, but Agnes easily brushed it away. “You poor dear,” Agnes said, and then Karen’s whole body spasmed at the first light, flicking touch of the nun’s tongue on her labia.
Karen had never experienced cunnilingus from another woman, not even when her college roommate suggested it one drunken evening. It was like being stroked with a wet feather, one that knew just when to press hard and when to withdraw. She made sounds that were delicious to her own ears, whimpers and moans of arousal and completion, desire and orgasm, that left her throat raw and jagged. She squeezed her own breasts roughly, and pinched her nipples with a viciousness that made her growl.
Once she rose to look down the length of her body and watched Agnes’s head bob between her widely-spread legs. With her crown of dark, tangled hair, she looked like some wild, tribal priestess initiating a neophyte in the mysteries of women. Beyond, the nun’s bare ass rose in the air. It was perfect, Karen realized, taut and round like an apple, even shiny like a fresh fruit. Then a large insect of some kind landed on it. Without breaking her rhythm, Agnes reached back and swatted it away. The smack of hand on flesh made Karen come.
She had never been so wet, she realized. She was soaked, molten, and when she came she felt her juices surge forward, like a porn actress in one of those disgusting “squirting” videos one of her old boyfriends like. Yet there was no stopping or controlling it. She felt open enough to take a baseball bat.
When Karen could again focus, Agnes’ was watching her. The lower part of her face was hidden by Karen’s own groin and neatly-trimmed pubic hair. The nun rose slightly, her lips and chin wet with Karen’s juices. “Are you feeling better?”
“Oh, god, yes,” Karen said, rising on her elbows. The air was heavy and damp, just like her body. Her naked body. Like Agnes’s naked body. “Now, please, let me–”
“No,” Agnes said firmly. She kissed the inside of one of Karen’s thighs. “I need nothing from you, my friend. I only want you to be free of the influence of their obscene drugs.” And before Karen could reply, Agnes bent and sucked on her clitoris.
“Oh, my god!” Karen cried, and her hands dug into the soft moss. She couldn’t come this hard, not after all that time on the ship, not after everything the little nun’s tongue had already put her through. But she did, moaning incoherently and arching her back as an orgasm greater than anything she’d ever experienced roared through her.
She passed out then, although her body continued to shudder even in her sleep. Agnes wiped her chin and knelt between her legs, watching the pale, sweaty form. She arranged Karen’s legs for sleep, then went to the spring outside, drank and washed her face. It was close to sundown, which meant a night of vicious insects that vastly preferred the flesh of the new arrivals to those of long-term residents like Agnes. But there was no avoiding it.
Agnes bowed her head and thanked God for another day of life, even here, even now. And within the shelter, Karen moaned in her sleep.
(To be continued)
*I’m being fucked,* Karen dreamed. *He’s taking me from behind. My ass is in the air and my cheek is resting on my folded arms. His cock is perfectly fitted to me, and I can’t bear the intensity of it. Each stroke tightens the tension another click. Screw your horniness to the sticking place, I think, recalling a line from Macbeth. I can’t imagine being any hornier than I am now.*
*The tingling starts, the first sensation that will lead to the rush of orgasm, of climax, of coming. It’s terrifying in its intensity, and moreso because I have no idea who’s giving it to me. When I try to look back, a firm hand grabs the back of my head and presses it down. I can’t see him, and he’s completely silent. The only sounds are my own whimpering.*
*He pumps into me faster now. The wet, squelching sound is both shameful and exhilarating. I wonder at my own wetness, my own capacity, because now his cock seems enormous, plumbing depths of my body I never knew existed. I wonder in a panic if he’s wearing a condom, but then I don’t care, I want the hot sense of his cum spurting into me, or even better, splattering on my sweaty, bare ass as he pulls out at the last minute, leaving me aching and empty. I realize it’s the sensation of being ABOUT to come that I crave, not the orgasm, and I want him to pull out, but he’s not, and I’m about to come, and–*
Karen woke up with a cry. She stared up through the leaves of the shelter at the stars, visible through the tops of the palms. She was soaked with sweat, and the smell filled her nostrils.
She rose on her elbows and looked down the length of her naked body. Agnes slept curled at her feet, slowly unfurling after being awakened by Karen’s cry. Then, without a word, she gently crawled between Karen’s legs and bent her tongue again to its work.
Karen cried out at the first touch against her swollen, tender labia. The motion was slow, methodical, designed to conserve the nun’s strength and allow her to continue for as long as possible. It was the motion of someone used to doing this.
Karen gasped as the orgasm built within her. Her clitoris and vulva began to tingle in anticipation, in real life not dream-time. “Oh, God,” she whispered, and lowered herself back to the ground, “oh, Jesus, no, no more….” Then her spine arched and she clawed at the ground. She must’ve cried out, she always did when she came, but the blood rushing in her head blocked out the sound.
As the rush subsided, she felt the crushed handfuls of wet earth slip from her fingers. She sucked in lungfuls of heavy, humid air. When she could breath normally again, she raised her head. Agnes looked at her sympathetically, the nun’s cheek resting against her thigh. Her mouth and chin shone with Karen’s juices in the faint starlight.
Karen reached down and brushed hair from Agnes’ face. She felt a wave of tenderness and compassion for the girl. “Let me do you,” Karen said, trying to rise. “You’ve been so good to me, let me….”
Agnes shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m a nun, sworn to celibacy.”
Karen fell back with a weak laugh. “What you’re doing to me isn’t celibacy, Sister.”
“No, it’s ministering to those in need. Giving you pleasure helps you overcome the evil that was done to you. Were I to let you do the same for me, though, I would be breaking my vow.”
Karen draped an arm over her eyes. “Do you greet all the new arrivals this way?”
“If they need it,” Agnes answered seriously. “Most do.” She kissed the soft flesh at the top of Karen’s triangle of pubic hair. “Do you need more?”
Karen licked her lips. She was certainly sated, having experienced — or rather, endured — more orgasms than she’d ever imagined possible. Yet the drug’s side effects seemed to have ended. The polite thing would be to stop, thank the nun for her, ah, help and begin looking for a way to escape. But she didn’t feel polite, and after all that had happened, this felt like the safest place around. It had nothing to do with sex, really, or finding another woman attractive. It was a matter of comfort when she felt most helpless and vulnerable.
“One more,” she whispered, lay back and closed her eyes. “Please, baby, one more.”
She moaned as the nun’s tongue found her clit again, and a finger reached inside her to expertly stroke her g-spot. She let her legs fall wide, and draped one calf over the nun’s back. She rubbed her heel up and down Agnes’ spine in rhythm with her tongue strokes. This time the orgasm built deliciously slowly, swelling within her so that she hovered on the edge for what seemed like forever. When she finally came it was almost agony, and she wantonly grabbed the back of Agnes head, forcing the delightful mouth hard against her. Agnes responded by driving her tongue deep inside her, cupping Karen’s buttocks and lifting her like a slice of watermelon.
Karen was asleep before the last shudders left her.
Karen was awakened by a female voice pleading, “Please!”
She opened her eyes. It was still dark, but the moon had risen, and silver bars of light played over the floor of the lean-to and her own bare skin. She heard the burbling of the spring outside, the noise of insects and what sounded like monkeys.
Then Agnes’ voice, ever patient, ever kind, said, “Kellie, it’s not possible. I explained it to you then, and I’ve done so again now. It was a way of helping you adjust. It would be mere wanton sex now.”
“But I need it,” another female voice whined. It was a young voice, younger than Agnes, with a slight Southern accent. Slowly Karen rolled onto her stomach so she could look out.
Agnes stood by the water. Facing her was a tall, slender blond girl, as naked as Karen and Agnes, holding a bouquet of flowers at her side. Her pale skin glowed white in the moonlight. She was also crying, the sparkling tears plain on her cheeks. “You’re all I’ve got, you’re the only one who’s been kind to me,” the girl pleaded. She pitifully offered Agnes the flowers.
Agnes touched the girl’s face gently. “I’m so sorry, Kellie. I can understand how you feel. But I can’t help you with it.”
“But I don’t want anyone else,” the girl said, with a loud mucous-y snort. “I love you.”
“That will pass,” Agnes said. “Now please, there’s a new arrival sleeping in my shelter, and I don’t want to disturb her.”
“Oh, did you fuck her like you did me?” Kellie spat.
“I ministered to someone in need,” Agnes said. “As I did with you.”
Agnes’ even, rather ephemeral tone was beginning to creep Karen out. Her own body was wracked with soreness, and she felt sticky and unclean. She wanted a hot shower and a stiff drink. She crawled out of the shelter and stood, her legs wobbly.
“What’s going on?” Karen asked, reflecting how strange it was for three naked women to be standing around chatting in the moonlight.
“You’ll fuck her but not me?” Kellie demanded of Agnes, and hurled the pitiful bouquet at the nun. One small flower stuck to the sweaty curve of her breast.
“Why are you here?” Karen asked the girl. “What did you do to the Church?”
“What?” Kellie snapped. “Are you talking to me? Fuck off.”
Karen summoned as much of her natural authority as she could under the circumstances. “I asked you a simple question, young lady,” she said forcefully. “Why are you on this island?”
“I had an affair with a priest, okay?” she snapped defiantly. “He was my freshman college advisor. I tried to break it off, but he wanted to talk to me one last time. I had glass of wine, and then boom! Here I am, naked as a jaybird and so lonely it’s killing me.” Her voice cracked on the last phrase.
“Please don’t hold this against her,” Agnes said to Karen. She brushed Kellie’s hair behind her shoulder, and the younger girl seized her palm and began to kiss it. Agnes gently pulled her hand away.
“I’m so lonely,” Kellie whimpered. “All I can think about is what we did together.” She tried to put her arms around Agnes, but the young nun blocked them. Then Kellie fell to her knees and managed to kiss the area around Agnes’ navel several times before she was again rebuffed.
“I have to get off this island,” Karen whispered to no one in particular.
(to be continued)
“OK honey, strip.” My girlfriend had pulled into the beach parking lot and smiled at me gleefully as she removed her bikini top.
I looked down at the tighy baby blue speedo I was wearing, feeling exposed enough as it was. My mind racing as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, I thought of how we had come to this point.
The previous weekend we had been at a music festival in North Carolina, three days awash in drugs and jam bands. On the third day, tripping, high and drunk, we had found ourselves among a cadre of “naturalist” hippies. Zelia eagerly removed her top. She smiled challengingly at me, and I obliged, dropping my cargo shorts. We were two naked bodies among several dozen, so I didn’t feel too self-conscious, not at first. As the day went on, and the drugs wore off, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable with the whole situation. Zelia soaked up male attention from all directions, and the pretty much ignored me or laughed contemptuously at my small penis. At one point I got roped into a conversation with an old hippy whose big ugly dick hung down to his knees, dwarfing mine several times over. He was teasing me, telling me he could tell it was my first time hanging out nude. I guess my discomfort radiated off of me. “Me, I’ve been going buck since you were just a little speck in your Daddy’s balls! Hahaha!” He laughed in my face and smacked by bare butt cheek, and I just grinned sheepishly, feeling somehow helpless and cornered. Looking at his spindly, sinewy body, covered in tufts of gray hair, his long beard, I was disgusted but still intimidated by the huge cock hanging there.
“It’s ok to peek, son. Little boys like you are always curious. It’s big right?” He had a huge grin on his face, shaking his prick at me, peering into my eyes
“Yeah, it’s huge.” I breathed, surprised at how weak my voice sounded. What was I doing, complimenting this old creep on his big cock?
Later, waiting in line for the bathrooms, some aggressive looking frat boys walked by us and began hooting to her. Their leader boldly called out,
“Hey sweetheart, leave that baby-dicked faggot, I’ll show you a real cock!” And the kid did just that. He whipped out his big cock much to his friends jeering delight. He swung his big meat around in his hands and bucked his hips in a lewd sexual pantomime. I just absorbed the abuse, red-faced and Zelia laughed up a storm.
So that’s how we ended up at the nude beach, a place we had always heard about but never visited. Z kept her bikini bottom on as I shucked off my speedo and followed her like a lapdog.
Ever since I had lost my job and she became the breadwinner, Zelia had begun exhibiting ‘dominant’ characteristics like this. Before, I had been calling the shots, the big man who took care of her. Now, she was the aggressor and the one who wore the pants in our relationship, which I guess was why I agreed to shuck mine.
She led us to a relatively secluded spot, but not after parading my little dick for a almost entirely male audience up and down the beach so she could find ‘the perfect spot.’ After applying sun tan lotion to her generous curves, she had me rub it on myself, getting my back and rump for me.
We both spread our towels out and I laid down stomach first so as to cover my pecker, letting the warm beach breeze caress my butt cheeks. Closing my eyes, I realized this wasn’t all together unpleasant.
I opened my eyes and realized I had fallen asleep. To my right, Zelia was sleeping face up, her huge boobs and untrimmed pussy on display. I sat up and crossed my legs, sitting Indian style. I left my hands over my crotch to cover my small endowment.
Just then I saw a man out of the corner of my eye.
He stood on a dune, seeming to present himself to us. He was looking at me, seeming to show me how big it was. And it was big. I had never noticed another man’s penis like this, and my heart started beating, I felt my face go red with embarrassment.
He stood some twenty or thirty feet away, but I could tell it hung down mid thigh. Fat and red, emerging from a dense bed of pubic hair.
I tried to look away, but when i looked back a few moments later he had gotten closer ome 15 feet away. The man was maybe 5’9 but built like a bull. He clearly spent a lot of time at the beach- he was red all over. Red nose. He had a big barrel chest with a bathroom rug of white chest hair on. I was more toned but he had a more obvious natural strength to him. Even his big beer gut looked strong, powerful.
He still stared right at me, a calm, confident challenging look on his face. It was like he was testing me, seeing what I would do. I couldn’t help but compare the man’s big dangling cock to my own meager manhood cowering between my legs.
Zelia seemed to be waking up.