Ixazaluoh doesn't laugh at her, doesn't try to deny, doesn't get defensive or promise she would never harm her lover. She just nods solemnly and waits silently for Abby to make her second request.
"Don't hurt me," Abby says. She means in sex — she meant it when she said she's not into pain-play —but it occurs to her as soon as she says it that it is adequately applicable for the rest of her life, too.
Ixazaluoh nods.
Abby chews on her bottom lip, thinking for a long, long moment. She only has one request left, and it has to be good, has to be meaningful and cover all the rest of the things that she wants to beg for, the kindness and the charity and the goodwill that she wants her mistress to hold for her. If she must be a slave, she wants to be a willing, happy one.
"Communicate," Abby hits upon finally. "If I've done something that displeases you, or you want me to do something, or do something differently, or not do something at all... if you want me to change something, if you want to discipline me..." she swallows hard but pushes on, terror roiling up under her sternum, fear that she is being insolent, that she will be punished for such a demand, "then please, please, talk to me. Tell me so. Tell me how, and why, and I'll do my best. I really will. I'll try."
Ixazaluoh smiles. The corners of her mouth spread slowly; Abby gets the sense that Ixazaluoh is impressed.
"I agree," Ixazaluoh says, and her tone is deep and formal.
Relief washes through Abby, clear and refreshing like cool water. "Thank you."
Ixazaluoh inclines her head briefly in acknowledgement of the thanks, and then gestures to the sky, just barely visible through the canopy. "And now..."
The moon breaks through the clouds and for a moment the whole clearing is flooded with clear, soft light. A statue becomes visible at the edge of the scrub.
"Who is he?" Abby asks, staring up at the half-ruined idol.
"Xaman Ek," Ixazaluoh says. "The eldest of us here. He was one of the gods who helped to build your people. They made you of corn and water and breath. He is the god of travelers and merchants."
Abby looks around. There are other stone shapes huddled in the shadows of the grove, but they are not highlighted by the seemingly conveniently focussed shaft of moonlight. "Why are we specifically here?"
"You are a tourist. He made you, so he must give his consent for me to have you."
Abby bristles. "I'm not a thing," she says, even though she knows to Ixazaluoh's eyes, she sort of is.
Ixazaluoh kisses her cheek gently. "Relax, my own. It's a formality only. And you'll like it, I think."
"What's he gotta do?"
"We're going to fuck you," Ixazaluoh says, pleased and soft.
Abby's heart leaps up into the back of her throat. Her nipples get so hard, so fast, it actually hurts. "Both of you? Together? Here?"
"Unless you object?"
"No!" Abby blurts. "Nope, not at all!"
The moon slips back behind the clouds. There is a sound like a gust of wind, a breath so deep and long it's like the world is exhaling. Deadfall rustles. Abby thinks for a moment that it might be some great beast in the jungle, a cat hungry for her flesh. Then a man steps out of the shadow and into the dull wash-water light of the grove.
A beast, yes, and hungry for her flesh. But not like she thought.
The idol has become a man. He is tall, and dark skinned, glowing red and gold with health. This abdomen, his arms, his legs, they all look as if they are still carved from stone, only flesh and blood and like they'd be heaven to rub up against. Like, a lot. His hair is cropped short; it is black, and so is his beard. Another trail of hair spreads like a lover's palms across his firm pectorals and slides down his stomach, skirts his belly button and down to his... oh.
He is naked. He is... very naked.
"Hello, Abby," he says, and his voice is like velvet, like the rumble of thunder, like a panther purring. He seems just a bit too tall, a bit too broad, a bit too much. He is larger than life, literally, and it should scare her, that this man is going to cover her, push inside her, but it doesn’t.
Ixazaluoh has asked this of her, and Ixazaluoh loves her. Ixazaluoh doesn't want her hurt. So this man, this god, he will not hurt her.
Abby's skin pebbles and though his cock is hidden in the shadow of his body, in the soft thatch of dark hair, all she can think is yes please. "H-Hi," she manages to say. She thinks she should say something else, something fancy and deferential, bow her head to a god or something, but Xaman Ek just leans down and covers her mouth with his own and oh, okay then.
"Lay back, my own," Ixazaluoh whispers in her ear, and Abby lets Xaman Ek guide her down onto her back on the rock. The slab is short, Abby realizes, and it ends just above her head and just below her rump. It is also slightly gritty, dusted with desiccated leaves and dried twigs, pebbles, feathers and the flotsam of the world. But beneath that it is smooth, worn silky by years, decades, maybe even centuries, millennia of people just like Abby writhing on this very spot.
Ixazaluoh guides Abby's legs up, tenting them, resting her heels on the edge of the slab and folding her skirt up against her waist. She kneels on the ground between Abby's thighs and kisses each of them in turn. Abby stares down her body at Ixazaluoh and realizes that she seems out of proportion too, now, larger than life herself. Had she always been that way? Abby can't remember. Abby can't remember and it should make her panic, but it doesn't. Because suddenly she decides it doesn't matter.
Abby sighs, warm and content, even if the rock is a bit hard and uncomfortable. Xaman reaches down and slides her dress up, up, over her breasts and up her arms, off. He folds it gently and tucks it under her head. What a thoughtful god, Abby thinks.
And then she laughs, because the look on his face as he examines her bra is priceless. He's never seen one before, she decides, that's what that expression means. He runs one long finger across the edge of the cups, from one side to the other, his skin burnished against the pristine white lace. He spirals his touch inward, finding her nipples through the mesh of lace, and Abby gasps.
The clasp for this one is in the front, so she doesn’t even have to wriggle to get at it. She just lifts her hands and opens it. Above her Xaman's eyes go wide and dark with sudden lust as the cups fall away and her breasts are released to the night air. They are pretty average, Abby thinks, nothing special—perhaps her nipples are a bit small—but the god reaches out reverently and takes one in each hand, gentle, and pushes them together, flicking his thumbs over their peaks, as entranced if they're gold; as hungry as if they're made of chocolate.
Abby arches into his touch and he throws one leg over her body, straddling her at the waist. He is still standing on the ground, legs splayed, and he leans down to worship her chest with his mouth. His breath is cool, too, his tongue just this side of not warm enough to be truly human. A matching tongue brushes against Abby's slit and she jumps. When did Ixazaluoh get her panties off?
"Whoo boy," Abby breathes.
Ixazaluoh laughs and her breath puffs against Abby's clit. She can't jump because Xaman Ek crouches slightly, pressing his ass against her stomach, holding her down, and something hot and hard, steel in velvet slides up between the valley of her breasts and, hello penis! Abby tucks her chin against her chest and when his cockhead peeks between her breasts a second time, she gives the crown a little lick in greeting.
Xaman grunts in approval and she does it again, and again, until her whole chest is wet with saliva and precome. She remembers that she's got hands somewhere in the middle of all this and runs her palms along the corded muscle of his arms, scratching her nails across his skin in time to open-mouthed kisses that Ixazaluoh is pressing against her pussy.
"Oh, god," Abby moans as Ixazaluoh sides two fingers in and curls them upwards. Ixazaluoh sucks hard on her clit and the stars above Abby spin. "I'm… I'm gonna—!"
"The first of many," Xaman rumbles, his mouth against her throat and the vibrations from his voice rolling down her flesh. He straightens, pushing
his tongue into her mouth at the exactly same rhythm that Ixazaluoh does the same below, and Abby comes on the spot.
She's barely back in her own head when she realises that she's being manhandled. They turn her over and someone tucks the ruined dress under her knees and Abby lets them, flopping down to rest her forehead on her crossed arms and grinning like a loon. So what if it leaves her presenting like a bitch in heat? She feels great.
She feels loved. She feels wanted.
Needed.
A mouth on her ass, the tickle of facial hair across the cheeks, a trail of tender kisses. And then a body curved over hers, hard muscle and hot skin pressed against her back, the crinkle of leg hair against the back of her thighs, and Abby thinks, possessive bastards with a silly grin. Xaman's hands come down on her wrists, pinning her to the stone. As if she would try to get away.
"Never," she breathes. "Yours, yours, yours."
Ixazaluoh slides onto the slab before her, manoeuvres around Xaman's hold to pillow Abby's cheek on her hip, carding her fingers through Abby's hair and pulling the locks away from her face. Ixazaluoh bends double in a brilliant display of flexibility and peppers kisses all along Abby's cheek, temple, her eyebrow. Abby stretches into it like a contented kitten.
"Now, Abby," Ixazaluoh says. "Now you may worship me."
Abby smells woman, and salt, and stone. She's never eaten out a woman before, but she's been kissing Ixazaluoh for three days and figures she knows how to kiss here, too. She starts slow, though, just in case she doesn't like the taste. A small lick, a moment to consider, and to revel in the feel of Xaman sucking love bites in a line down her spine, the press of his cockhead against her bum.
Mmm. Salty. Womanly.
Cooler than when Abby's licked herself off her own fingers, curious, but no different, really. And less bitter than semen.
She licks again, with the whole flat of her tongue, and Ixazaluoh jerks, huffing in delighted surprise. Then it's Abby who jerks, because without any warning, Xaman presses against her entrance and flows into her in one long, fluid stroke.
"Holy fuck," Abby gasps, breasts scratching along the stone, head snapping back. She's aware of the irony of what she's just said in front of two gods, whom she is fucking, but she doesn't care because Xaman's cock is goddamn huge.
Abby writhes and he grabs her wrists tighter and Abby uses the leverage to straighten up a bit, to rest back on his stomach and make him wait while she adjusts. He is hot and long, and god, his glans is brushing right against that lovely spot right at the entrance to her cervix where she's most sensitive and most men can't reach. It tickles and she wiggles, rubbing him thoroughly across the patch of sensitive tissue.
"Abby, lay down," Xaman rumbles against her ear, licking and nipping along the unmarked side of her neck.
Abby nods, is far beyond the ability to speak, and relaxes back down onto the stone, back between Ixazaluoh's thighs. Xaman releases her wrists and she wraps her arms around Ixazaluoh's waist, getting comfortable. Xaman pulls back, slowly, teasingly and Abby moans again. He snaps his hips forward and a breathy little squeak that Abby has never, ever heard herself make escapes her throat. His glans slides over her g-spot and straight to the back of her cunt and Abby squirms.
"Too slow," she whines. "C'mon."
"Mouthy," Xaman laughs, one hand wrapping around her hip for leverage, the other sliding down to pinch all the skin around her clit between two fingers and tug, gently. "Demanding."
Abby squeals again and goes still. She is learning. Gods like to be in control.
"Exactly as I like them, brother," Ixazaluoh sighs. "Have patience, Abigail." She rolls her hips up and Abby takes the hint. She licks with the flat of her tongue again and then she turns her head sideways and starts kissing Ixazaluoh's labia as if it were her mouth, nipping and nibbling on her lips, sucking them into her mouth, pressing inwards with her tongue, but slowly, shallowly, teasing.
"Ah, ah!" Ixazaluoh gasps, and there is a smile in her voice. "Clever girl, quick learner."
Xaman strokes in and out twice more, excruciatingly slow and then, god, finally, thank you, his tempo slowly begins to speed up. Ixazaluoh's hands drop underneath Abby and find her breasts. Xaman's free hand tugs her clit again and Abby arches like a cat and comes again, her inner walls clamping down on Xaman's cock. He stills, waiting for the flutter to pass, huffing into her ear. Then he resumes thrusting, faster than before. Abby moans, the sound dredged up from the absolute bottom of her guts every time he stabs against that beautiful spot buried deep inside her.
She wants to go breathless, boneless, but the two gods that hold her between them are too rigid, too strong. Abby collapses against Ixazaluoh, trusts her goddess to keep her safe, upright, and just lets them have their way with her. Her jaw is sore but Abby keeps on her task.
She is quickly getting oversensitive, irritated pain building alongside another orgasm.
And then the eyes are back, and they are watching intently and oh fuck, there are four hands on her and a cunt under her mouth and a cock up her snatch and fuck, fuck, there are a hundred phantom fingers tracing every vein along her skin, a hundred tongues along her spine, a hundred soft caresses over every inch of her instep and the bottoms of her toes.
"Too much!" she whines, writhing, and Ixazaluoh grabs her head and presses her hard against her groin.
"Suffer it," she hisses. "Suffer it! For me, Abigail."
Abby nods, nose bumping against Ixazaluoh's clit, and her goddess releases her. Abby gasps for air, wriggling and screaming.
Ixazaluoh grabs her hand and stabs something small and sharp into the base of her left thumb. Heat floods her pussy and her chin and Abby isn't even sure if she actually comes a third time because she's too busy passing out.
☼
Abby wakes with a tattoo on the flesh of her thumb. It stings a little, and it's in the shape of an abstract, blocky waterfall. It is beautiful.
"We take care of our devotees," Ixazaluoh whispers against Abby's cheek and Abby realizes that she is sitting up, pressed between Ixazaluoh behind her, and Xaman before. She is splayed on his lap, his cock still hard and resting against the crease between her leg and her hip. "You're mine now."
"All yours," Abby slurs and lets her head fall back against Ixazaluoh's shoulder, her neck cradled between Ixazaluoh's lovely breasts. She deliberately bares the love bite to Ixazaluoh's gaze and is rewarded with a rough kiss. Abby loves it.
"Fast learner," Ixazaluoh praises her.
"Possessive gods," Abby mutters happily.
"Yes, we are," Ixazaluoh says and brushes her palms over Abby's nipples. They are still hard, sensitive, and Abby jerks back, into Ixazaluoh's chest, gasping. "Stay still, Abby," Ixazaluoh scolds gently.
She does as she's told but it's still too much, and she can't clamp her lips closed around the whine that escapes. Ixazaluoh wraps her arms around Abby's ribs and lifts her. There are hands against her entrance and then, oh, "Fuck!" Abby moans.
"Slowly, slowly," Xaman says, pulls her weight off of Ixazaluoh and against himself, rests her head against his pectorals. He rolls his hips upwards, stabbing up into Abby and she shudders all over. "Stay still," he whispers, petting her hair. "Let me have you. Stay still."
Abby couldn't move even if she wanted to, so she obeys. Her eyes are closed and her cheek is pressed to his clavicle and she lets him masturbate himself in her cunt, lifting her and letting her drop gently, so gently. Ixazaluoh kisses along her spine.
Abby comes twice more before Xaman does. His semen is cool against her walls and she shudders all over at the juxtaposition of sensation, tensing and hissing. When Ixazaluoh lays her back against the stone, pins her shoulders with her own knees, holds her down, and licks his seed out from between her legs it actually hurts.
"No more, please," Abby sobs.
Ixazaluoh takes pity on her, fulfills her vows to adhere to Abby's three requests, and lets her up. She cradles Abby on her oversized lap like a child and Abby curls into her emb
race, eyes slipping closed and a well-earned weariness wrapping around her like a cloak.
"Oh, my own, my own, my dear Abby," Ixazaluoh whispers. "Thank you, thank you."
Xaman tucks in beside them, covering Abby's back. She is surrounded on all sides by the smell of sex, and companionship, and the jungle.
"People have forgotten," Xaman says into her hair. "The world has forgotten my kind. We fade when you forget us. We die. And because we are fading, people have forgotten how to look at us. How to look for us. We need people like you, Abigail. People who look at the world and see it, who long to break down the barriers and illusions of comfort and who want to see the real, as it is. For what it is."
"You mean, filled with things that shouldn't exist?" Abby asks, managing to jerk her brain into enough gear to consider what he's explaining.
"Why shouldn't we exist?" Xaman chuckles. "We did before, why not now?"
"Okay, fair enough," Abby admits. "So, is that you've… initiated me? Because you need more people to see you? Believe in you?"
Xaman chuckles again. "We ask you to be our devoted, Abigail, because we want you. Not because we need to exploit you."
"But I could," Abby says. "I mean, I could write articles, convince people to… to…"
"Worship gods by having orgies at tourist resorts?" Ixazaluoh asks bluntly, lips pulled into a wry smile.
"Right, it sounds dumb when you say it like that," Abby admits.
Xaman reaches out, takes Abby's head between his hands, long fingers tangling in her sweat-damp hair, thumbs brushing over her freckled cheeks. He presses his mouth against hers, soft and contemplative, sipping at her lips.
"Come back to us when you can," he murmurs, nosing her cheek and lipping her chin. "We love you."
"It might not be until next year," Abby says, eyes still closed. "It might not be for years and years. They may never send me back."
Dear Abby Page 6