To say that Margie had never been so frightened in her life would be to belittle the sensations that were running through her. It was a fear that made her whole body sicken and tore away all pretense at composure or dignity. It was like one of those great life divides where everything that happened afterwards would be colored by the experience. But for Margie, the idea that there would be an afterwards was as far from her mind as the idea that she could escape her fate. The Emerald God, the fierce, prehistoric, pre-Columbian idol who had demanded the lives of untold innocents to slake his thirst, was coming for her.
The frantic woman tried to scream, but nothing would come out. Her throat was dry and constricted and her belly roiling with rebellion. The mist that had surrounded the cruel god enveloped her and everything that she could see was tinted a pale, other worldly green. The god reached out his mighty right hand and brought it towards Margie’s contorted, panic stricken face. She shook and writhed in her bindings in a futile attempt to escape his touch. She leaned her head as far back as it would go against the frame to which she was bound. The hand kept coming closer and closer. And then she felt his large, thick fingers make contact with the soft skin of her cheek.
As the skin of the idol’s fingers made contact with Margie’s face, she felt herself suddenly infused with a warm, comforting flow of the green god’s power. It was so unexpected that her mind refused to believe what her body was telling her. Soothing, comforting messages flowed through her. Her body lost its terror inspired rigidity, her stomach lost its tension, her heart’s intense, body wracking beats slowed. As the hand of the god continued forward and commenced a gentle caress of her face, Margie felt a wave of relief flow through her. His smooth, hot palm seemed to absorb all of her discomfitures. She looked into the formerly, harsh, stern face and saw an expression of affection and kindness. When his other hand moved to the other side of her face, capturing her head in a gentle, loving way, she sighed and began to sob. All of her fear had left her. Nothing in the world seemed better than to be within the ambit of the loving god. His face and skin had lost some of the cold, verdant tint and his flesh had seemed to become more human, not white and pale like hers, but dark and brown, the color of teak. His skin was smooth and soft as if it had never suffered the drying effects of the sun or wind. His muscles rippled and his body exuded a fresh, fragrant, delightful smell.
As his face moved closer to hers, Margie felt an overwhelming desire for union with the emerald deity. He tilted his head slightly and placed his full lips upon hers. A wave of lust passed through her, emanating from the lips of the now all too human god. Not a bone wrenching, jolting, flash of passion, but a lust that reached into her very soul, begged for dissolution of the barrier of her skin so that her being could melt and dissolve into complete union with him.
His tongue entered her mouth and its heat burned deep into her mind and her body shivered with delight. His hands fell away from her face and she felt the bonds that held her mounted for his pleasure dissolve. She fell against the strong, sweet smelling body of her new master, her lord, and her skin felt jubilant everywhere that she touched him. He pulled her away from the confining framework and lay her down. She felt on her back, not the cold, hard stone of the cavern deep within the earth, but on a soft, pleasant layer of warmth, as if she had been immersed in a comforting bath. She moaned with a passion that she had never felt and her hands reached out to caress the exciting, pleasure giving flesh.
The enraptured woman felt the god insinuate himself between her legs and she stretched them wide and raised her knees to facilitate his possession of her. She felt his hot cock brush along her lower belly and then be guided by the god’s hand to the entrance of her burning loins. Their mouths were still joined as his thick, stiff rod eased its way into her passage and she moaned again, yearning to be filled. The man’s hot wand, for he was now a man in every sense, transformed to claim the offering the villagers had left for him, seemed to burn with a lust giving fire as it brushed along the yearning walls of her crevasse, stoking the passions of the god’s new, adoring, devotee.
There is a moment that the mystical philosophers speak of, the perfect union of the spirit and the body, when all conflicts and concerns pass away. Call it sartoris, nirvana, bliss, whatever you may, but it is the ideal that all strive for. That is what Margie felt as the god-man’s cock began to slowly stroke itself within her. Her mind, rather than delirious, was finely tuned to the waves of ecstatic pleasure that it brought her. It was as if the god had granted her a more than human power to absorb the pleasure he was bringing her. She had lost all rational thought, all consciousness of the world. There was only the undeniably real presence of her god-like lover, her happy, satisfied body and the suffusing, intense, pure pleasure that was emanating from her loins.
As the god’s cock scoured her pussy’s walls, Margie felt herself transferred to a new plane of experience. Her mind began to yearn for the explosion of her lusts. The god’s hips ground against hers and his mouth fed eagerly on her lips, his tongue feeding hers with a flow of pleasure. Margie felt her body begin to shudder as her climax approached. The small spark of consciousness that was left to her wondered what it would be like to come at the command of her loving deity and whether it would cause her to dissolve into his flesh. She could think of no better fate as her pussy’s receptors began to trill with excitement. And then it came.
Margie screamed into the mouth of her lover as her hot canal began to throb and burn. It contracted like a fist around the pleasure radiating cock that filled it. Again and again it convulsed as jolt after jolt of pleasure shot through her. The man-god groaned and his meat began a dance of delight within her. His cum was hot and the feeling of its splashing against her cervix drove the moaning, writhing white woman into a delirium. Her heels dug deeply into the god’s broad, strong back and her arms clenched his flesh tightly against hers. His well muscled chest crushed her heavy, round breasts against her. His groans of pleasure reverberated down her throat.
Slowly, the pair of lovers brought their feverish rutting to a halt. Margie lay in the god’s arms, blessing his existence. Her mind reveled in the thought that he had called her to him when she had first seen what she now knew was a crude, primitive rendering of him in the small shop in
Cotabaya
. He had brought her through all of her suffering, all of the travails and torments that she had endured so that she could experience this bliss with him. He had claimed her, she was his. Nothing that she would experience in life would compare to the overwhelming sense of completion and satisfaction that she felt now. She would have willingly suffered a hundred times more than she had, gone through whatever purgatory or hell that her god had demanded, if she had known what lay ahead for her.
They lay together intertwined, savoring the union of their flesh for a long time. Margie softly caressed the soft, brown skin of her lover. She could feel him still hard inside her, but was in no hurry to resume their lovemaking. She wanted to savor the delights that their first act of union had brought her.
But when the god shifted his hips and recommenced the slow, long languorous strokes of his manhood within her, Margie’s mind exploded with glee and she rose her hips to meet him.
Later, Margie thought often on their seemingly endless rounds of pleasure. He took her in every way that a woman could be taken by a man. The green mists that enveloped them seemed to bring continuous renewal to her energies and desires. When he lay back and spread his legs invitingly, Margie happily crawled between his knees and assumed his glowing, radiant cock between her lips. She pleasured him with every skill that she had, kissing, caressing, stroking and teasing his cock until she felt his body shudder and writhe in pleasure. During their seemingly interminable, passionate interlude, she drank down his discharge hungrily more times than she could count and each time that his cock began to throb and convulse within her mouth or throat, her pussy celebrated her achievement with its own intense, body wracking contractions of pleasure.
The men who had brought Margie down to the green god’s temple, had left behind the gourd that contained the thick, sweet potion that the priestess had given her. From time to time, the god administered more of it to her, keeping his devotee’s mind lost in a psychedelic haze. She remembered eating from the basket of food that the men left there, each bite presenting a scintillating sensation to her mouth. It was, in fact, like being in paradise.
Time seemed to stand still for her. She felt like she had spent long hours just luxuriating in her lord’s warm flesh, laying against him while her gently stroked her. She remembered being on her hands and knees, her hips angled properly to receive him as he probed her narrower, sensitive, rear opening. The brushing of the long, thick meat along the tender tissues there brought a sensation of delight to her whole body. He lingered long inside her, bringing her to completion several times with his steady, rhythmic strokes, his strong hands wandering her body, his thighs pressed firmly up against hers.
He never spoke to her, but his used his lips to bring her pleasure, kissing and suckling her breasts, washing her energized body with his tongue, lavishing it along her fevered slit and over her stiffened bud until she groaned and cried out in joy.
Marjorie remembered well when their time together came to an end. They had just completed another fevered bout of lust. The god slid his manhood from between her still quivering love lips and gave her a long passionate kiss. He looked into her eyes and smiled lovingly. She knew that he was saying goodbye. A protest began to form on her lips and then he passed his strong hand over her forehead.
The next thing that she remembered was reaffixed to her frame and being carried out of the cave. Her body slumped in her bonds with exhaustion. Her pussy felt heavy and tired. Her mind swirled with confusion. The priestess was there as she emerged. Her frame was placed down on the ground and the old woman smiled and caressed the short, blond bristles on her head. Margie smiled back at the old woman. She had been wrong to think evil of the woman, she knew that now. She had been blessed with an experience beyond all human imaginings. She was the servant of the Emerald God, Guarito, something blessed and holy. The old woman pointed up at the night sky. The moon hung there like a huge, bright, round pearl. Its fullness had passed and it was now new. She had spent two nights and days inside the cave, lost in passionate adoration of the green god.
Her bindings were released and she felt herself lifted up into the strong arms of one of the men. She looked up to see the smiling, friendly face of the leader of the expedition that had brought her here. She smiled back and then her body sagged and she passed out.
Chapter Twelve
Everything Comes Together
Margie was carried back to the village and laid down on her soft, furry, black bed in the woman’s hut. The old woman bound her hands to the ring in her brassy collar and looped her ankles together. She fell into a deep sleep. All through the remainder of the night and into the morning, the ecstatic pleasures of her couplings with the Emerald God kept coming back to her. When she finally awoke, it was midmorning and the light of the day shone brightly into the hut through the open door.
The young woman had never felt more alive. It was as if the green god had rejuvenated her body, taken years off of it. She happily ate the breakfast that the priestess fed her. The old woman alternated between proffering her bits of fruit and meat to seize between her lips and stroking her lovingly. The white captive had not disappointed. The old priestess could tell that the Emerald God had been pleased. Desiring to partake of the pretty, young woman’s experiences, she affixed to the wooden frame when she was done eating and blew a cloud of smoke from the burning bark into her face. When their mouths joined and as she stroked the happy white woman to pleasure, she delved through her mind, quaking and shuddering as the girl recalled every kiss, every caress and every soul shattering climax.
The old woman was exhausted when she finally broke free from the girl. It was as she had remembered it. She had served as the green god’s earthly servant for many years until her body’s juices dried up. But now the beneficent god had another to please him and the future of the tribe was secured. There was just one more hurdle to clear.
Margie was allowed to lie on her smooth, furry pallet for a long time. She nodded in and out of sleep. The young girls who were her daily attendants finally came and brought her to the stream where they washed her. When they brought her back, they treated her to a long session of Sapphic caresses until she moaned and cried out her pleasure. To Margie, every kiss of their lips, every caress of their hands, every lick that their active tongues granted her precious quim, was reminiscent of the acts of her god and lord.
After lunch, Margie was brought outside of the hut. The priestess had bound her hands behind her and affixed the long rope to the ring in front of her collar. They knelt in the shade of a small tree by the entrance to the hut and one by one, the villagers came up to express their happiness for and gratitude to the beautiful white woman. Gifts of fruits and nuts, carved artifacts, flowers and pretty, shiny stones were laid at her feet. The women, smiling and happy, kissed her and caressed her breasts. The men stroked her hair and gave her their thanks.