Dreams and Desires (30 page)

A few weeks after his successful meeting with the old shaman, the Apache who had taught him showed up at his office unannounced and instructed him as to the time, date and place he should return. This time, unwilling to lose another of his acolytes, he recruited three red headed, college students up at the university in Boulder to take with him.

Jonathan didn't really know what to expect. His retinue was met at the gate to the reservation by three black SUV's and they were all driven for about two hours on little one lane, rocky roads to where the gathering would be. The drivers were taciturn, young, Apache males, well built, and dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and straw cowboy hats. When they arrived at the gathering place, a large, flat plain covered with mossy grass and near a large spring fed lake, he saw, not the teepees and Indian ponies he expected, but a wide array of pick ups, banged up cars, motorcycles and a number of trailers. He got out of the SUV and a tall, broad shouldered Apache with dark glasses and wearing a neat, cotton flannel shirt and jeans said, “
Ta hey
, Mr. Blackthorne. The welcome tent is over here."

The place looked like a Fourth of July picnic. There were huge braziers grilling thick steaks, big pots of beans with large slabs of bacon in them cooking over fires. Men and women congregated everywhere talking and laughing. A three guitar band was playing country and western songs on a small stage in front of which men and women were dancing two-steps. Children were running around kicking balls, chasing each other. Pretty Apache girls dressed up in flowing summer skirts and halter tops smiled at him as he passed. From his quick estimate, the must have been about 200 people there. And new vehicles were pulling in all the time.

Jonathan had brought Diane, his three acolytes, and the three red headed girls from Boulder with him. Replacing Marie had not been difficult. In fact, he took the opportunity to add some variety to his diet of female lusts and emotions and selected a tall, graceful black skinned woman who had shown up at a business conference his company had sponsored. He discovered the thrill of her jet black skin and eager mouth in his hotel room that afternoon. The contrast between her pigment and that of his other two pale, white servants he had found appealing as they made love before him for his benefit on the soft, thick rug in the study at the Marjoram Estate guest house.

Jonathan had no need for any security for his servants since they were all converted and wouldn't have run off even if given the chance. He had left his control of the new women purposely light so they would be nervous and uncertain as to their fate. Although they had been marked with his sign, he had blocked their minds so they would remain ignorant of the tattooed pentagrams on their bodies until he presented them to the shaman.

The welcome tent was a huge, yellow and white striped canvas tent supported by about twenty 8’ high poles around the circumference and taller poles in the middle. There was a long table filled with a large rack of grilled chicken, thick, red slices of London broil, and an assortment of other grilled meats. There were big platters of home fries, baked beans, potato salad and garden greens. Another table had an assortment of liquors and mixers and next to it was a big barrel filled with bottles of beer drowning in freezing cold water and ice.

"Get ya anything?” the good looking, young Apache who had greeted him asked. Blackthorne, with all the world to choose from in terms of refined elegant refreshments, had developed a taste for beer.

"How about a Heineken,” he asked.

"And the girls?” the man inquired.

"Oh, just sit them down some place and get them some Cokes or something,” Blackthorn answered. He had to admit he was taken aback by the normalcy of the surroundings. He looked around the tent and, from what he could see, he could have been at a Rotary meeting. Among the small, milling crowd under the tent, there were several middle aged men in white, short sleeved shirts and black rimmed glasses, a couple of older women dressed in long, off the rack summer dresses. If you looked closely though, you could see they all were of definite Apache heritage. Their skin was dark and their faces carried the strong, almost Asiatic features typical of their race. Jet black hair was universal and a couple of the women had long pig tails in braids with small colorful feathers attached at the ends.

Blackthorne's greeter returned with a bright green, open bottle covered with perspiration. He handed it to Blackthorne with a smile. The girls had all found chairs by the side of the tent and were drinking soda from cans, looking like virginal debutants waiting to be asked to dance. They looked at him nervously, not knowing what to expect from all of this. The only exception was Diane, whom he had specially entranced before they arrived. She was holding her unopened can of cola in her lap with both of her hands, her eyes glazed, her shoulders slumped. All his women were dressed in short, puffed out skirts and sleeveless tops with long ‘v’ necks that showed off the sides of their pretty breasts.

The man who had been assisting Blackthorne introduced himself. “My name's Bob Cloud,” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm from the Water Clan. It's good to meet you."

Jonathan shook his hand and probed the man's mind. He found honesty and good will. So far so good. He realized he was incredibly vulnerable in the midst of these people. He could never do anything to control all of them at once, not even more than a few. He was here with his familiar, who the shaman knew was his biggest vulnerability. But he felt he could trust the old man. Anyway, the die was cast.

Bob introduced him to the Tribal Council President and a few of its other members. They all shook his hand heartily, grinning and expressed their gratitude for his coming. He got sidetracked by the Tribal Business Manager who peppered him with questions about investments, interest rates and long term economic forecasts. A broad beamed, middle aged woman came up to him, smiling. “My name is Barbara Feathers,” she told him, “Juniper Clan. I'll be the high priestess for the ceremony.” Her face was pudgy and jovial. She was wearing a long red, patterned dress that swept the ground. Her jet black hair was in a long single braid behind her back. The bodice of her dress was cut in a low semi-circle, showing off the tops of her large, fluffy breasts. She had a firm handshake, like a woman used to physical labor. She looked over at the line of seated, confused looking, white woman. “Which one is Diane?” she asked.

Blackthorne led her over to the girls. He started from the other end. “This is Linda, Mary and Donna,” he said. “They're gifts for the Shaman. The next three are Darla, Yolanda and Christine. They are my principal servants and they take care of Diane, who is right here.” He pointed to the dazed, confused pretty, blond woman.

"Oh, she's so pretty,” the matronly Apache woman exclaimed. She knelt in front of Blackthorne's familiar and ran her fat hand over the blond woman's dazed head. “How are you doing, sweetie,” she asked her in a pleasant, syrupy voice. She looked at Blackthorne. “Does she talk?"

"No,” Blackthorne answered.

"Oh, that's ok, dearie,” the woman responded directly to his familiar. She rose to her feet and walked down the line of seated women, touching each of them on the cheek. She especially remarked Yolanda's clear, smooth, coal black skin. When she reached the three red headed college girls, she said, “Oh, I'm sure the shaman will like them. They're all so cute."

Linda, Mary and Donna looked back at the woman quizzically. They had heard the strange man who had taken them from the streets of Boulder say that they were presents and then heard the reference to the shaman. It really didn't compute. How could a person be a present?

It was Bob who saved him. “Mr. Blackthorne, I'm sure that you want to rest up for the ceremony. We have a special tent for you. Don't worry about the food, I'll have something sent over for you and the girls."

Barbara Feathers had one more thing to mention. “Mr. Blackthorne, we have roles in the ceremony for Diane and her caretakers, but we didn't figure on the other three. Maybe you can just present them at the appropriate point. Okay?"

Blackthorne was amused at the woman's concern for protocol. “Okay with me,” he replied.

Bob led him to a spacious, white tent about thirty or forty yards from the welcome tent. It was set off by itself for privacy. Two mean looking Apaches stood by the doorway and nodded at him when he went in. The inside was well appointed with a thick, woven rug on the floor, several large throw pillows, a table and some chairs and a large, king sized mattress draped with a light brown, hand woven blanket. It was covered with colorful designs of geometric patterns and representations of various gods and spirits. At the four corners of the bed were wooden stands from which hung leather thongs with feathers, bones and snake rattles attached to them.

There was also a large manikin standing in the corner on which was hung a deerskin costume littered with colorful bead and feathers. It was pale white. Blackthorne looked at Bob. “That's for you to wear, Mr. Blackthorne. I hope you don't mind. The shaman gave us the sizes."

Blackthorne went over and examined the bright, colorful getup. “Why not?” he thought.

"There's a headdress that goes with it. It's considered very holy and so we'll keep it in the security tent until the last minute. Don't worry, you'll look great. I'll be in costume too,” he added, smiling broadly. “I'm the snake god."

When Bob left, Blackthorn had the girls all kneel in a semi-circle around the bed. Except for Diane. He sent her an order her to strip and get on top of it. She mounted it obediently and crawled to its center. Blackthorne tossed off his own clothes and followed her. Someone had thoughtfully placed a thick, wooden stake in the ground at the head of the bed and set a long, leather thong next to it. Jonathan tied off the woman's wrists in front of her and then raised them and tied the other end to the post. He laid the pale skinned beauty's body out and ran his hands over her soft belly and breasts, sending strong, irresistible messages of lust to her.

Diane had been on a low burn all afternoon. The close proximity to her dream lover caused her to yearn for him intently. She was confused about all the people and where they were. When her captor put his hands on her skin, all of that went away.

Jonathan put his lips on hers and buried his tongue in her mouth. Diane moaned in response, hungrily greeting him. He placed his hands on her breasts and poured his energy into her. Her body melted under his as waves of pleasure seared her mind. Her thighs opened in invitation and Blackthorne positioned himself to penetrate her. His cock was hard with lust and he pressed it between her engorged love lips, sighing as her moist heat welcomed him.

The old man had been right. Since his handling of the woman, her body had been an unexcelled conduit for pleasure. It was if he had purified or sanctified her. Her psychic emissions of lust flew out of her. And after she had slept during the night, or after her daily session under the influence of the hallucinogen, he felt surges of pure essence of the Whole rushing from her body.

Now, as he stroked himself inside her, his mind reeled as it gathered up her emanations. He took his mouth from hers and suckled at her hardened teats, inhaling her passion as it flowed from where the old man had stroked her. Diane moaned and writhed beneath him. Her body clenched and shuddered as she orgasmed, her pussy gripping his fevered prick. Her hands struggled at their bonds above her head, yearning for the feel of him. He felt his forces rising and he let them go, groaning with delight as his fluids pumped from his pulsing rod.

Not yet satisfied, he remained within her, sawing his still hard cock along her pleasure bud. The frantic, passion overwhelmed woman came twice more before he spilled himself in her again.

Afterwards, Blackthorn rose from the bed and compelled his acolytes to disrobe and attend to their charge. They leapt to their task and, joining Diane on the bed, stroked and caressed her, keeping her lusts burning. The three red headed college girls stared in amazement, confused, uncomfortable looks on their faces. They too had felt the heat of Blackthorne's lust and their eyes conveyed their yearnings. Jonathan left them simmering there, as his mind turned to food.

As if waiting for a signal from him, a voice outside the tent announced the arrival of his meal and he answered that the voice should come in. It was Bob again and he was followed by three, pretty, young Apache girls carrying trays of comestibles and two bottles of Heineken. Blackthorn was nude, his long, thick limp cock was still wet with the passionate discharges of his familiar. The girls just tittered, averting their eyes, sneaking furtive looks at his manhood. He could feel the lust burning in them. But, he had decided, the pretty Apache girls would be, for the most part, off base for him, unless proffered for his amusement.

They placed the trays on the tables and scurried out.

"It's just about six o'clock,” Bob said. “The ceremony will begin as soon as it gets dark. I'll come get you around 7:30."

After he ate, and while his acolytes fed Diane and themselves, he compelled his three red headed offerings to suckle at his cock. He didn't come, but let the eager mouths of the three girls send him languorous sensations of pleasure while he drove their lusts and reinforced their compulsions to obedience. Their faces looked so pretty as he presented his manhood to their lips one by one. Their expressions migrated from shock and confusion as they realized their irresistible compulsion to open their lips and consume the thick hard rod, to ecstatic pleasure as they felt the radiation of his power through it, to being dazed and confused after he withdrew without climax, their minds befogged by lust.

Bob had gone over what was anticipated from Jonathan at the ceremony and, although he had plenty of lust to spare, Jonathan had decided he would preserve himself to ensure a good show. He was resting on the bed when Bob returned. There were three, strong men with him. Bob announced it was time to get ready and that the women would have to be brought to the women's tent to be prepared for the ceremony. Jonathan nodded his consent and the men stood the women up and proceeded to bind their hands behind them with leather thongs. One of the redheaded girls began to cry when she felt her wrists being bound off. Jonathan stood and sent all of them strong messages of fear, pain and obedience, drawing sustenance from their misery as he touched their bright fiery heads one by one. The men hooded the females and led them off, the three redheads still in their pretty, short, flowery skirts and his acolytes and Diane nude. He was apprehensive about the necessity for separation from the beautiful, blond familiar, but he let it go.