sss Island

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

In the Society of Women

Presented and Sentenced

Pushing through the pawing, jeering mob, every member of which seems caught between feral jubilation and outrage at my erection (trails of blood now trickling along its vertical length) gives new meaning to the word terror.

Fists pummel me as I pass, spittle and invective from hundreds of tongues rain down on me, and despite Moba’s precautions there is still every chance that I might be torn to pieces at the most obscure cue. Though the patrol tries to close around me protectively they would obviously be impotent against such numbers. All is chaos, cacophony and consternation for an unbearable eternity before we at last near our destination.

This proves to be a raised plinth or platform of monolithic basalt blocks. At least twenty wide steps lead up to this, each bracketed by paired pillars. Alternating skulls top these: human (surely male), crocodile, and some sort of lion-sized feline with preposterously long, curving canines of a species unknown to natural philosophy. In my former life as an academic I would have been made to examine these of course. Now I’m so consumed with relief at having escaped the mob and with renewed exaltation over the coming encounter that I barely spare them a second glance. I am about to meet the High Priestess of these deities: surely the most thrillingly dominant authority among them and the one with the power to grant my most deviant fantasies.

At last we reach the level. As my hanging head clears the last step I see that this eminence is merely an expansive space serving as a porch of sorts for the great stone structure beyond. Clearly the temple or palace of the reigning potentate, it is nothing on the scale of classic civilizations like Egypt or Babylon or even the ziggurats described by the Spaniards. Still it is plenty impressive in its barbarous way, particularly to one brought before it for judgment hanging bound head-down and exalted by existential terror and arousal. Also predictably impressive are those that stand awaiting us in full view of the throng below.

Here indeed are the tallest, brawniest, loveliest, and most splendidly endowed specimens of this deified (to me at least) race. Spreading in wings to either side are matching rows of specially caparisoned warriors, clearly some kind of Praetorian Guard. The weapons they carry must have been seized from defeated Conquistadors: swords and battle-axes of the finest steel. Likewise they wear scraps of Spanish armor over their shoulders: the only pieces that will fit their outsized forms. Otherwise they are magnificently naked but for the same loincloths, sandals and jewelry worn by the patrol.

Clearly the skill in metalworking of these primitives is only advanced enough to work soft gold and fashion simple implements of iron. But that skill with gold is certainly sufficient to glorify enormously the truly magnificent being standing alone in the center.

Though more aged than her warriors, this potentate is still statuesque beyond any other. Only the slightest sag mars bare breasts of breathtaking dimension, and the lines of experience carved here and there upon her exquisitely regal regard merely lend exactly the kind of helplessly compelling authority to her stern visage that I anticipated.

Below a particularly elaborate headdress of vibrant plumes of every hue she scowls down her ringed nose at our approach, and the bright sun gleams not only on this adornment to her septum and those to her ears, arms and fingers (and the extravagantly bejeweled collar about her neck) but also glares savagely back from her scant yet staggering golden armor. Fitted over her bulky shoulders and cinching in her midriff in a kind of half-cuirass, this is molded exquisitely to every muscle. Yet by far the most intimidating, nay terrifying feature of this ruler is what replaces the loincloths worn by her subjects.

Here the leather has been worked into a simple harness of straps that girds her waist and crotch, leaving lyre-like hips and boulder-like buttocks bare. And jutting from the front of this low at her pubis is a simply monstrous phallus.

Shaped in perfect exactitude of black volcanic glass, silky smooth and polished to a killing gloss, this glittering obsidian erection puts my own bound and bleeding endowment to shame. As an emblem of authority in an exclusively female society it has a significance and import unmatched in any culture I have encountered in a lifetime of study. Gazing up at its prodigious length and girth from just below I quail in utterly appropriate terror and submission as I am brought forward and lowered to the stone at her feet. That pole is withdrawn at last and I’m rolled onto my side and bound-together limbs, facing up at this towering, terrifying divinity with my girdled and garlanded effrontery pulsing its insult conspicuously straight at her.

That queenly frown deepens, and I wait with bated breath to be eradicated instantly in my insolence. One swing of a sword blade or battle-axe would suffice to remove the evidence of my criminality, another one my head. Yet great good fortune is with me. Displaying none of the impulsive capriciousness or ready rage of most tyrants but the same unshakable self possession as the captain of my captors, this glorious priestess merely regards me contemptuously for a moment before turning her attention to that captain.

Her patrol has fallen back a step in deference. Yet to their credit they hold themselves proudly, with no betrayal of the trepidation they must feel at this seriously unorthodox situation. Looming over me opposite her ruler, Moba stands proudest of all. She even smiles widely as she begins her report. Declaiming in a loud clear voice that carries over the sudden communal hush to the populace gathered below, she justifies her actions.

“Greetings, High Priestess Zela! Gora smiles upon us with glorious benevolence this day! Barely at the beginning of our seaward patrol, her servants encountered this most rare and precious gift and yet most confounding challenge! Allow me to explain what has occurred, the interpretations I have made and the action I have taken. I believe we stand at the brink of wonderful good fortune if only the people prove worthy!”

Speaking with even greater passion and eloquence than before, Moba relates all that has occurred. She reiterates her belief that a rigorously observed and especially cruelly performed series of sacrificial rituals will prove tremendously beneficial to the people, even to making their island a paradise of fecundity. Finally, she avers that I will willingly confirm all this myself. At a nod of permission from her sovereign she stoops and wrenches that coconut from my mouth.

“Speak, criminal!”

How bizarrely ironic this moment is! Where I had earlier planned to use all my eloquence to forestall violence and even beg for mercy, now I’m commanded to use it to ensure the exact opposite. Nevertheless I do not hesitate. More captive to the madness planted in me by my wife – and so inexplicably burgeoned beyond belief by my ordeals on the beach – than to the cruelly tight vines restraining me, I eagerly confess my sins and plead my case for retribution and sacrifice. I even support and surpass Moba’s most dubious prophesying.

“It is all true, most venerated one! I am the most evil male ever spawned!”

A communal gasp of disbelief greets this pronouncement made in their own tongue. Channeling every iota of my suicidal depravity I continue to cry out my crimes and pleas for punishment with a passion that exceeds even Moba’s. Still I’m amazed at the volume I’m able to generate, and the effortless way the words pour from me despite my very brief experience with the language. I even get the unfamiliar dialectical differences right.

“I lust to ravish your holiness and that of all the Chosen People beyond all reason or restraint! Bondage, pain and subjugation are honey and benison to me! Even your worst cruelties only inflame me further! My organ is irrepressible and the epitome of all you despise! In agony and exaltation I spurt my vile seed at the least touch of female flesh; I have done so to the affront of your subjects in full awareness of its sinfulness! Like every male ever born I would rape each of you unto death despite your manifest superiority and obvious divine favor!”

Over a rising tide of anger I scream even louder, my voice echoing over the plaza and my bloodied organ throbbing madly in the unthinkable audacity of my self-condemnation.

“This intent is unconscionable in the extreme and utterly unforgivable! In penance then I crave your retribution for this offense to femininity! I crave it even greater than Gora’s insistence that you inflict it! I hereby submit myself gladly, eagerly, and wholeheartedly to the doom of your righteous judgment!

“I beg you to sacrifice me! I beg you to do this so that I may bring fertility undreamed of to this island and to the wondrously divine gender that so glorifies it. For this reason and more was I created, molded and delivered to you! My slaughter will even be the means by which your people will eventually spread beyond this land to subjugate all other races. Please, High Priestess, let my blood and seed and soul and sacrifice serve you as it was destined to! I plead to be the means by which you will finally eradicate my entire debased and sinful s*x from all of existence! The world must be peopled by only females! This is Gora’s ultimate design!”

At last I fall silent, amazed all over again at this unrehearsed oration and at the dementia of arousal that still possesses me. This only grows more acute when Moba again yanks back my head by the hair and crams that coconut back into my mouth, brutally bruising my lips in the process. Utterly out of control, I writhe and grovel in an ecstasy of lubricity, focusing my insane beseeching on the c**k-girded Goddess towering above me. Even in her supreme self-possession Zela seems taken aback. Eyes widened with surprise, she studies me a moment. But soon her sneer of Olympian contempt resurfaces, and she dismisses me to focus again on Moba.

“You have done exceeding well, sister. I support and affirm your wisdom and decisions.

“None of the whites can speak our tongue; it is unheard of. Clearly Gora has put these words in its mouth herself. You and your entire patrol are to be most highly commended. While you will lead the hunt, the others will be numbered prominently in the chosen one hundred.”

As Moba and her warriors swell with pride and exultation, High Priestess Zela motions them aside. They hurriedly retreat, whereupon Zela raises her arms high above her head and addresses the crowd waiting raptly below.

“Hear me, O people! Gora indeed smiles wondrously upon us this day! All praise to Moba and her patrol for their wisdom, foresight, discipline and restraint! We shall be forever indebted to them for recognizing this incomparably priceless gift!”

The thousand or more Amazons gathered roar with approval in response. Beaming, Moba, Nera, Rooni and the others bow low while the acclaim washes over them. When this at last quiets, Zela uses a contemptuously spurning foot to roll me gagged, hogtied, garlanded and hideously erect over to face the multitude before continuing.

“You have heard from this inconceivably evil criminal! You have heard this gift of Gora speak her own words to us from its foul mouth! Not only is it an unprecedentedly libidinous example of the banned gender, but it is the means by which we shall eradicate its like from the entire Earth! Shall it be condemned and sentenced to the hunt, retribution, unmanning and sacrifice? Shall we dispatch it shriven, impotent, and cured of all lust into her service forever?”

This time the cheers of affirmation are thunderously loud and savage, and my erection tears at its embedded barbs all by itself in the intensity of its throbbing response.

A thousand pairs of fists rise and shake, a thousand pairs of breasts jiggle and bounce and a thousand barbarically lovely faces are contorted by bloodlust. Bared teeth gleam everywhere as a thousand voices cry out for my unprecedentedly gruesome sacrifice. Panting and squirming fervidly in the unparalleled extremity of my exaltation, I soon begin to thrash in an ungovernable frenzy at High Priestess Zela’s concluding exhortation to her people.