From the Log Book of HMS Ravensong

We have decided to set sail upon the morrow, satisfied that we have rescued all living survivors of the Golden Dove. We have spent the last week searching, at the insistence of Prof. W. Waites and his daughter, that one of their number still lives, lost somewhere beyond the city of serpents. With a fierce storm brewing upon the horizon, I fear that to remain would be folly. Today has been spent replenishing our supplies for the long voyage home as well as making sure the Ravensong is sea worthy. With regret, I am resigned to leave Miss Delacroix’s fate, should she still live, within God’s hands.

Captain Danial Ivers

September 29, 1827

I had been lost for days, perhaps weeks, stumbling clumsily within the maze of the caverns, bruised and naked, losing track of chronological events. Hunger and thirst wracked my delicate physiology, although I was able to sustain myself somewhat by feasting on the various fungi and pools of chilled water that I discovered in my wanderings. At first I was hesitant to partake of the toadstools and mushroom, fearing the effects, be they poisonous or merely hallucinogenic. Eventually, the choice of poisoning myself accidentally won out over a slow death by starvation. Luckily, the underground flora was either benign, or my metamorphosis had made me immune to the poisonous meat of the fungi. The other effects, however, took hold on occasion, filling my head with surreal visions and occasional madness during both waking and sleeping hours. Sometimes they were pleasant, allowing me to lose myself in a reverie of escapism. Other times, they were sexual, leaving me frustrated and longing for the touch of another being. Occasionally they were nightmarish, leaving me bathed in sweat and shaking with fear as I scrambled blindly through a myriad of divergent paths. It was a miracle I hadn’t yet wandered off the edge of one of the numerous cliffs I encountered and met my fate upon the rocks below.

“Oh, Isshu,” I lamented awaking from troubled slumbers more than once. “I am lost.”

Unlike my fevered dreams while I had been suspended in darkness, I had not grown extra appendages, or should I say, limbs. The wings that had erupted from my shoulder blades, however, were not a product of my imagination. Nor was the slow adaptation of my eyesight to see, if not perfectly, then well enough, in the total darkness beneath the surface of the island. Ah, if only I had a mirror. I pondered how they might appear. Segregated like an insect’s, would be my guess. After all, from what I could discern, my wings were identical to those of the butterflies that plagued our sanctuary upon the beach. Funny, I had thought they might be fragile, but they seemed as resilient as flesh and bone. Perhaps even more so. On the occasion that the pathway opened up to a small cavernous space, I took great delight in fluttering them slowly, the movement physically pleasing in some small way. That, and the times when the fungi prodded me into touching myself to fantasies of either Isshu or Emma, were the only times when the dark mantle of despair wasn’t hovering about my brow like a tiara.

And so, I wandered, aware that the way led deeper, sometimes alerted by a slight slope, sometimes by a natural stair that forced me to pick my way carefully over tumbled blocks of stone, leaving my knees and hands scraped and raw and me fighting for breath, dizzy and weak with exertion until finally, I could go no further.

Crying silently, the tears trickling down the filthy flesh of my sunken cheeks, I knelt at the precipice of a particularly steep stair and simply abandoned all hope. Stubborn though I had been, I’d always known the truth; that I would die, perhaps not forgotten, but lost and alone. I had finally reached the end of my rope, as my American Friend, Gavin, would say. I managed a sad smile, dredging up an image of his face, as well as my fellow castaways, my thoughts linger longest on Emma’s. Oh, sweet, beautiful Emma. The berries had opened up so many possibilities, once forbidden and scandalous to my mind. Love had truly blossomed between us and for that, if nothing else, I was thankful for being shipwrecked. If only I hadn’t been exiled…

The thought faded as did I, my eyes closing one final time as I slipped into a final slumber, somehow managing to upturn the corners of my cracked lips into a melancholic smile.

oOo

Death was not without dreams, or so I discovered. Surprisingly, they weren’t the nightmarish visions brought on by the mushrooms I’d been feasting on. There was warmth and comfort and light within them. I was being held by one of God’s Angels, and lifted into heaven. I could hear song. Not some great choir, but rather a pastoral lullaby, one I recalled fondly from my youth. Sighing softly, I murmured the words almost silently, as I ascended to my place in heaven.

Hush little sheep, the sun will rise again. Hush little darling, be still. Soon the night like smoke will fly away. Hush little darling, be still.

Hush little Livie, the cock will crow again, Hush little darling, I’m here. Soon the fear like water will wash away. Hush now my love, I’m here.

Sighing once again, I forced my lids slowly open, blinking at the soft light that illuminated a face both strange and familiar. Isshu, my alien lover. I felt his voice inside my skull, caressing my thoughts and emotions with psychic fingers, calming me with feelings of security and love. Warm waters lapped at my naked flesh and slick tentacles embraced me, the tips stroking me worriedly, urging me back from the brink of non-existence.

“Isshu,” I breathed, barely able to get the word out, yet my thoughts must have projected it like a joyous shout from his reaction.

“Olivia, you are safe. Sleep. I will wake you when you are ready.”

Nodding once left me exhausted, and I slipped beneath slumbers, letting them pull me under until I drowned in blissful solace, knowing that I would be safe in his embrace.

oOo

I healed, both in body and in spirit, over the course of several days, sustaining substance from the lust berries as well as other fruits and vegetables that I had no names for. Especially satisfying was the nectar of the flowers that populated the vines of the berries which he brought me daily, obviously having quick and easy egress to a nearby source. Where did not concern me. I was content to be cared for, spending my times soaking in the heated pool as he sung me songs gleaned from my memories or his, and shared stories of his people, a chore that sometimes filled him with great pride while filling his eyes with a quiet melancholy. I never pressed him, for which I believed him to be thankful for.

Soon, however, a steady diet of berries, raw fish, and nectar, coupled with a return to health, made me long for what I had been denied since being captured by the serpentine creatures and imprisoned. The first time was gentle. Despite my passionate hunger for him, my energy could not match my need. Perched on a boulder at the edge of the pool, I simply spread my legs wide and enjoyed the feel of the tips of his tentacled limbs as they explored my naked flesh, teasing over my overly sensitive nipples, sliding along my arms until I was covered with goosebumps, teasing my spine and the tender flesh of my inner thighs and then, finally, parting my labia with a prehensile tip, scooping a dollop of my desire from within me and feasting on it like I had been feasting upon the sticky sweet syrup of the flowers.

Time stood still as he teased me to the brink, toying with me, sensing how near I was, and how to keep me there without pushing me over the edge. I found myself floating out of my body, a voyeur to our love making, noting the flush that covered my still healing flesh, the way my eyes rolled back in their sockets, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and my wings, glittering in the ambient light as they fluttered slowly until finally, began to shake uncontrollably as the mother of all orgasms pulsed through me, pulling me back down so that I was, once again, one being.

After wards, he simply held me, rocking me gently, his tentacles and mouth tenderly brushing intimately over every centimeter of flesh, leaving me breathless.

“Better?” he asked, his words reaching, not my ears, but my mind.

“Oui, oui. Mieux,” I whispered, overjoyed to see the light in his eye resembling joy.

Carefully, I folded my newly formed wings around him as he, in turn, wrapped himself around me, creating a cocoon or, perhaps more fitting, a chrysalis.

oOo

The second time was much the same, as was the third. Soon, however, we both desired more. Much more. My heart pounding, I opened my mouth, an invitation. The coiled serpentine nest of braids upon the crown of his head slithered through my hair and over my cheeks, several of them circling my throat loosely. I gasped as his sharp teeth grazed my lip, drawing a pearl of blood that he sipped upon with a sibilant moan. Limbs rose from the pool, pulling me in to waters rising to my waist. Beneath the surface I felt tentacles coiling around my ankles, calves, and thighs, forcing them apart. Another pair, pulled my arms behind my back, imprisoning them securely. The third set coiled around my waist, and breast, teasing my swollen nipples playfully, flicking and spanking until they ached painfully.

Too much? He inquired, his voice slipping through my head sensuously.

“Non,” I managed, crying out as the coils began to tighten, lifting me from the cool waters and pulling me towards him. I gasped as his cock rose from the surface, swollen huge with lust, his intent obvious. My cunt quivered and pulsed in anticipation. I could feel the juices of my desire clinging to my swollen and parted lips, as he lowered me into his thick phallus.

I screamed, a sound born of both pleasure and pain as he impaled me, letting my weight pull me down until he was fully encased in my dripping wet sex. I could feel it tightening, gripping at his flesh in response. Trapped, the tips of serpentine limbs toying with me, heightening my passion, he began to roll his hips slowly, pushing in and out, creating a rhythm that was both pleasing and maddening, as he fucked me, the sounds of my passion filling his mouth as he savagely kissed me.

How long it lasted, I cannot say. Suddenly, I felt his snake-like hair tighten around my neck, cutting off my air as he thrust deep into my pussy with an audible hiss and filled me with rivers of his seed, setting off my own reaction. Crying wordlessly into his mouth, I exploded, fighting against him with all my strength as I violently succumbed to my orgasmic throes.

“Mon Dieu,” I managed, my voice shaky as he loosened the coils that bound me, holding me close, my breasts pressed to his chest so that I could feel the beating of his heart against mine. When I was able, I encircled his chest with my arms, and wrapped my legs around his sinewy thighs, content to remain in this position for as long as he could bear my weight.

You are a delight Olivia Delacroix. His laughter sounded rich inside my head.

As are you, my beautiful Isshu. I returned with a satisfied sigh, stroking his slick blue flesh tenderly, my head resting against his shoulder until, finally, I drifted off into blissful slumber.