Kitabı oxu: «Enchanted Dreams: Erotic Tales Of The Supernatural»
Also available by Nancy Madore
ENCHANTED: EROTIC BEDTIME
STORIES FOR WOMEN
ENCHANTED AGAIN:
MORE EROTIC BEDTIME STORIES
FOR WOMEN
ENCHANTED
DREAMS
Nancy Madore
Erotic Tales of the Supernatural
For Michael Hulbert, with my utmost gratitude and
love for all the encouragement and inspiration, for
putting up with me, and for so many other things,
like slipping into characters’ heads for me and bringing
them to life. I couldn’t have written this without you.
The
Enchanted
Forest
Catherine stopped again to catch her breath. She couldn’t believe how out of shape she had become. There was a time when she was always outdoors getting exercise, whether it was camping or playing volleyball or running. How long had it been since she’d entered a marathon? Lately, all of life’s many demands kept her busy running an entirely different kind of race. She couldn’t seem to find time for herself anymore. There was little enough time to sustain the barest existence. These musings caused a pang of anxiety to rise up in her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her worries away. How had matters of basic survival come to absorb her every waking moment?
But these were precisely the thoughts Catherine came here to forget. She had not suffered an anxiety attack in nearly twenty-four hours. She was determined to enjoy her brief escape from the rat race, if only for a few days. She tipped her head back and breathed in as much as she could of the crisp, cool air that surrounded her. It smelled of earth and life. She looked around then, suddenly aware of the strange silence. As her nostrils drank in the sweet and pungent aroma of the forest, her heartbeat could not help but slow down. The beauty and tranquility were having their effect. Why couldn’t all of life be this simple?
Catherine picked up her overstuffed backpack and hefted it up onto her shoulder, resting it on the left side now because the right shoulder was beginning to ache. She felt another wave of annoyance at this reminder of how poorly things were constructed these days. The strap had broken within the first hour of her using it, unable to withstand the weight of her camping gear. She should have chosen a more practical pack, she thought, but she had been swayed by the colorful design—and the sale price—of this one. Besides, its bright orange-and-yellow pattern gave her a feeling of security, just in case there were hunters in the woods. Not that it was hunting season, but one never knew. But as it happened, she had not encountered anyone at all since setting out on her little excursion. There was a lonely, isolated feeling to the place that convinced her no one else was around. At first it was disconcerting, and she had been tempted to turn around. But it was not an overly exhausting hike to the campsite, and she was sure to find someone there.
With her racing heart calmed, Catherine resumed hiking, but at a slower, more manageable pace. She was nearing a high point in the mountain and veered closer to the steep edge so that she could observe the views below. The trees were thinning out now, perhaps because of the elevation, and this made the sight even more spectacular. Clumps of trees gave way to fields of green, spotted here and there with patches of wildflowers.
As Catherine gazed at the scene below her, she was once again struck by the curious silence surrounding her. Listening more intently, she noticed that there were actually sounds to be heard, such as the twitter of a bird or the rustle of a squirrel, but these seemed to blend into the background as seamlessly as the foliage. There were no conspicuous sounds, no noises that would indicate purposeful activity or any other synthetic clatter clashing with the natural progression of things. Catherine pondered this, marveling at the perfect harmony that seemed to exist among the plants and animals compared to the chaos associated with more intelligent beings.
Even as Catherine was thinking these thoughts—ironically, right in the very midst of them—a bird suddenly flew out at her from a nearby bush, startling her. She lost her footing and, unable to catch herself, stumbled over the edge of the mountain. There was a split second of absolute clarity where she realized she was not going to be able to stop her fall, and in the next instant she noticed the thick, solid branch peaking out from beneath the fallen leaves that was rushing up to meet her. She only had time to perceive these things, not to react, or to move, or even to feel alarm. And then everything went black.
Catherine opened her eyes and looked dumbly around her in utter confusion. Where on earth was she? Something was not quite right, yet she felt remarkably calm. She sat up tentatively, remembering the fall and aware that she had sustained injuries.
The very first thing she noticed was that all of the forest—from the tiniest blade of grass to the tallest tree—appeared to be buzzing with life. She was suddenly struck with how curiously vibrant the colors were, and how pungent the aroma around her. It was almost as if the trees were speaking to her, even as the gentle wind rustled their leaves. Things seemed more distinct and noticeable than before. She wondered if she had suffered a concussion.
As she observed the forest around her, Catherine had the oddest sensation that she was no longer alone. She looked more carefully at the plants and trees, scanning them for signs of life. But aside from the foliage, she saw nothing.
She got up slowly, brushing off her shorts and checking for injuries. Her wounds appeared to be minor, as she was able to move about without suffering additional discomfort. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. She still had the impression that she was being watched. She called out, “Who’s there?” but there was no response. She wondered vaguely why whatever it was didn’t manifest itself. Yet for some reason, she still wasn’t afraid. In the midst of such radiant harmony, it was hard to conceive of any real danger.
Her voice, when she had cried out, sounded foreign to her ears. Something about the valley she had fallen into called to mind the enchanted forests of her childhood fairy tales. She realized that she ought to make her way back up the mountain and find the trail, but she was captivated by the little forest nook and didn’t want to leave. What would it hurt to look around for a few minutes? Just off in the distance, she spied a field of brilliant colors that begged to be explored. She spotted her backpack on the ground nearby, and had half a mind to set up camp right there. Why should she leave this enchanted spot to set out for a public campground? This would be real camping, where she could open the flap of her tent without nudging a tent right next to hers.
As Catherine considered this, she walked toward the field, surveying the area around her with a great deal of curiosity. A prettier campsite could not be imagined. There was a tranquility to the place that seemed to promise sanctuary. It had everything the public campground had except electricity and, perhaps, water. But even as this thought occurred to her, she suddenly perceived a very faint sound—so faint she could only just identify it as the sound of rushing water. As she followed the sound, she discovered with joy that it was, in fact, a waterfall.
Catherine stared at the waterfall in amazement. It was just like something from an exotic island. She could smell the water as it exploded over the cliff’s edge. She approached it timidly, almost wary of its incredible magnificence. At any rate, she thought, she could wash the many scrapes that dotted her arms and legs in the sparkling spring. She removed her shoes and socks and tentatively dipped her toes in the little, churning stream at the bottom of the falls. It was cool but not cold, so she plunged her feet in. She bent down to scoop water over her bare legs. The flash of a silver trout caught her eye as it passed and she jumped, half expecting it to pause at the surface on its way by to speak to her, just as the one in the Brothers Grimm Tale of the Fisherman had. She laughed at the thought. Yet it would not have surprised her.
Catherine let the water, cool and soothing, trickle over her legs. She gathered several more handfuls and splashed them over the cuts and bruises on her arms. She realized that she was thirsty, too. Carefully, for the bottom of the stream was lined with sparkling rocks, she stepped closer to the falls, leaning forward to scoop some of the freshly falling water into her cupped hands. It tasted as sweet and refreshing as she imagined, and she swallowed several mouthfuls in large gulps. She was surprised how thirsty she was and drank until she had her fill. Then she simply stood there, admiring the majestic beauty of the waterfall. It was truly enchanting. But if she was going to make camp, she knew that she would have to find her way back to the trail soon.
Catherine cautiously stepped from the stream and looked toward the forest from which she had come, when she suddenly noticed that the sun was unusually high in the sky. This seemed strange. Wasn’t it later in the day? She tried to remember roughly what time it had been when she fell, but she couldn’t. Yet she had already eaten lunch and was fairly certain that the better part of the day was behind her. By all counts, it should have been late afternoon. How, then, could it now be coming on midday? Surely she had not lain unconscious overnight! But just then it occurred to her that her stomach was empty. She once again had that strong sense of unreality and wondered if she had suffered more serious injuries in the fall than she originally thought. Perhaps she had a head injury. She vaguely remembered the large stump sticking up out of the ground. She felt around her head for bumps.
But at present it seemed more important that she eat something. Her backpack was stuffed with food, but just at that moment she spotted shimmering patches of red scattered about in some of the bushes nearby. Upon closer inspection, she saw that they were raspberries, and they were so plentiful they were practically falling off the branches. Looking around, she could see that the lush bushes were growing everywhere all along the little stream. Catherine tentatively picked one of the berries and touched it to her tongue. It was tart and sweet, just like a wild raspberry. And the bushes were overgrown with them. What a find! There were so many berries that, without ever taking a single step in either direction, she was able to eat her fill.
While Catherine was gorging herself on raspberries, a strange notion came into her head. She began to think that the berries had appeared as a result of her desire to eat. But after considering it, she rejected the idea as preposterous. The berries had been there all along; she had simply not noticed them before. The waterfall had absorbed all of her attention.
But there was no denying that there was something special about the place. Contented by berries, she returned to the stream and sat down on the bank. She watched the running water flash and sparkle as more gleaming trout passed by. The sight of them pleased her. She stretched out on the bank lazily, resting on her side so that she could gaze down into the gurgling stream. How pleasant it was to simply watch the water trickling over the glimmering rocks as it rushed along its merry way. How benevolent its cheerful sound, tinkling contentedly as it hurried off to—where? Catherine felt peaceful and serene as she pondered this. She suddenly couldn’t remember what those things were that had bothered her before. After a while, she rolled over onto her back and looked up at the sky.
But what madness was this? Suddenly the sun was sinking into the horizon!
Catherine jumped up and looked around. She was yet again assailed with a nagging sense of unreality. How could high noon so quickly have turned to dusk? How long had she been lying by the bank, staring down into the water? How was it possible that she, Catherine, a person who normally couldn’t sit still for a moment, had wasted an entire afternoon looking at water?
She decided it was time to leave the strange little forest glen and quickly surveyed the area one last time, looking for the direction from which she had come. She wandered all around, searching for something familiar or for some evidence of her footsteps. But try as she might, she was unable to find a pathway out, and it was quickly getting dark. She would have to wait until morning. She was surprised to find that this did not disturb her overmuch, but she regretted not bringing her backpack with her when she had wandered off. At least then she would have had supplies. How would she manage to get through the night now? In a little while, it would be too dark to see and she would be left fully exposed to the elements.
Or would she? With a surreal sensation of awed disbelief, her eyes fell upon a little nook at the base of the foothill that rose up to one side of the waterfall. At first glance it appeared to be a shallow cave, just the right size for her. Catherine approached it with interest. It was indeed a small alcove that had formed out of the earth. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be the result of erosion, for there was a large tree sitting directly above it. All along its inner cavity could be seen smooth, wooden roots, jutting out here and again over the ceiling and walls like sturdy brown beams. The cave did not recede so far into the earth as to frighten or alarm, but was just enough to protect someone from the elements. The floor was covered with large, crisp leaves that had apparently fallen from the tree above. Finding the little alcove filled Catherine with a sense of well-being. She was beginning to believe that this forest really was enchanted. It was certainly the most enchanting place that she had ever been. She went to work immediately, gathering more leaves from the ground outside the cave and stuffing them into the corner where she planned to sleep. As she rushed to prepare her little nest before it became too dark, she suddenly caught, from the corner of her eye, the sparkle from a lightning bug. In that same moment, the last bit of the sun disappeared behind the mountain.
It was fully dark now, but look! More lightning bugs were—one after the other—coming alive, blinking so brightly (for her benefit alone, she now believed) and so frequently that her campsite was kept in a steady stream of soft light. Catherine stared, openmouthed, at the wondrous spectacle.
She began to think that somehow, in the course of her fall, she must have landed in some kind of enchanted world, perhaps even crossing over into an entirely different dimension.
Catherine snuggled comfortably into her cozy little bed inside the cave, but sleep was not quick to come. She was plagued by gently rising waves of restlessness, brought on, no doubt, by the extraordinary things that had occurred. Her mind drifted aimlessly, gliding through random memories of enchanted forests and fairies. As her thoughts meandered over the folklore, her exotic surroundings remained uppermost in her mind. She thought about the peculiar events of her day, unconsciously allowing her hand to trail over the length of her body and lazily letting it come to rest between her legs.
The fireflies continued to light up the sky around Catherine, and stars blinked at her from far off in the distance. She was mildly surprised to find that she was aroused. Her fingers had been absently—and very lightly—circling and caressing her body, and they were having an effect. She tried to recall the last time she felt aroused. It was not since she had started taking the antianxiety medication. That, too, was tucked away in her backpack, she suddenly remembered. She hadn’t taken one since before the fall. But how long ago had that been? She had lost all track of time. She remembered how quickly the sun seemed to set from its midday position; she would have sworn that no more than a single hour had passed in that space of time. But was it time that had changed, or was it her perception that was skewed? Had she fallen into some kind of trance while gazing at the gleaming water?
These speculations passed through Catherine’s consciousness offhandedly. She wondered that she could feel so calm and serene in the light of so many uncertainties. How did she know, for instance, that she wasn’t actually suffering from some kind of head injury? That would certainly explain her peculiar perspective of the things that were happening around her. And without her medication, even for a day, she would normally have been so terrified of an anxiety attack that she would have brought one about. But at the moment, even this realization that her meds were out of reach did not rattle her. It simply felt too good to have her body responding like this again. She felt excited, and terribly alive.
Catherine’s fingers kept encouraging her arousal, stirring it up and up as they circled and massaged her engorged little bud of pleasure. Soon, her desire was taking over all other thoughts. She suddenly, recklessly, wished that this enchanted forest would bring her some magic now!
By this time, Catherine’s body was lightly swaying back and forth in time with the steady, circular motion of her fingers. The activity caused her hips to sink farther into her leafy bedding, settling deeper and deeper into its softness.
But what was this? Suddenly, Catherine was disrupted by something solid that was buried beneath the leaves of her bed. She tried to ignore it but that only seemed to make it more pronounced. With a sigh of frustration, she sat up and carefully pushed aside the bedding to find out what lay beneath it. When she saw what it was, she gasped. She blinked several times to make sure she wasn’t imagining things.
Examining the object more closely, Catherine perceived that it was most likely one of the tree’s roots, which had circled back around toward the direction it had come in order to be unearthed in this alcove. This, in and of itself, was not especially unusual perhaps, but the shape of the root was. It rose up out of the ground at an angle, thick and gnarly and long. That it happened to be there, coming up out of the ground in that particular place and jutting out at that particular angle, was certainly no coincidence. The longer she stared at it, the harder it was for Catherine to believe that she hadn’t noticed it sooner. And then her last thought before she discovered it came to her and she blushed. She was now, more than ever, convinced that she was in a magical place where all her wishes would become a reality. But who was behind it? What was the presence she kept sensing?
Intrigued, Catherine could not resist reaching out and touching the lanky root. It seemed to tremble and pulse in her hand, startling her and causing her to instinctively jerk her hand away. As she gazed at it, she noticed that it was precisely the size, shape and texture she preferred. Although it was a bit rugged and rough, she thought ironically—playing the devil’s advocate for the moment as she skeptically examined her most secret wish come true—and then smiled at her own ungraciousness. But the smile instantly froze on her face. There, and there again, all over the root in fact, there oozed a clear fluid—perhaps a sap of some kind, she immediately suggested to her disbelieving mind—seeping out from its many crevices. Was it possible that the fluid had been there all along? It was, and yet Catherine felt that it was not.
She suddenly thought of Eve in the Garden of Eden. Was the proverbial apple this impossible to ignore? Already, her body was trembling with desire and anticipation.
Catherine made her decision in an instant. There was still the disconcerting sense that someone—or something—was watching her. Yet she felt that, whoever or whatever it was, be it fairy or plant life, it watched with approval and meant her no harm. Maybe it was the source of all her good fortune, her benefactor in this enchanted place, granting her every wish like a kind of fairy godmother. All around her there appeared to be nothing but loving energy. In fact, all of the encumbrances of her normal life, which had always been at war with her instincts, were starting to fade, diminishing in importance by the hour. She kept forgetting that she needed to find her way out of the forest, and even what it was that she needed to get back to.
All of this was a mere fleeting thought in the back of her mind as she excitedly took off her clothes. Uppermost in her thoughts, overruling everything else, was her desire, pure and raw and true. She was unabashedly grateful that the root protruded so far out of the ground as she carefully moved herself over it. The angle, too, could not have been more suitable. All she had to do was ease herself back, little by little, opening herself to the object of her desire in small, slow increments as she inched backward onto it. The clear, sappy fluid that was released by the root not only made the entry smoother, but it seemed to heighten her pleasure as well, increasing the friction as she slid back and forth. It felt as if it seeped into each and every crevice of her silky folds, filling her completely and creating a delightful resistance with its sticky texture, which intensified her pleasure as she slid along the long, gnarly shaft. She struggled to take it deeper and deeper with each thrust backward.
The root, meanwhile, continued to throb and pulse as Catherine shamelessly used it. She trembled with pleasure, relishing the exquisite feel of it inside her body. Every part of her felt as though it were alive. She went back farther and farther on it as she picked up her pace, delighting in the loud, squishing sounds of her juices as they mingled with the thick sap from the root. And even the forest all around her seemed to stir, pulsing and throbbing right along with her. The fireflies lit up the sky, bringing even her shadow to life where it moved over the cave’s wall in time with her thrashing body. Birds and other wildlife called out to her from the distance. When at last she cried out with intense pleasure, she could not say for sure whether it was her own scream or that of another creature of the forest.
Almost instantly afterward, Catherine fell into a deep sleep. It was a sleep filled with fleeting visions of strange, sensual places filled with curious and wonderful things. In these dreams, what once was irregular was now ordinary and proper. Plants were living things in the truest sense, with thoughts and feelings of their own as they fulfilled their objective to please those whose lives they touched. All was perfect harmony, where desires were meant to be satisfied. Catherine sunk deeper into the spell of the forest as she dreamed, without the slightest thought for what she was leaving behind. She slept effortlessly in her leafy bed, content and satiated, yet always teetering on the edge of her newfound arousal.
When Catherine awoke the next morning, she was first conscious of how refreshed she felt. The next thing she noticed was that her injuries of only a day before seemed to have completely disappeared. She was still vaguely aware that there was something she ought to do, but the forest repeatedly distracted her from this awareness each time it threatened to emerge. These distractions took many forms, and in the process Catherine discovered a variety of interesting plants that she had never heard of before, some of which seemed to offer themselves up for practical use. She was drawn to one plant, for instance, for its extraordinary size and spectacular color, but upon closer inspection she found that its huge petals were actually similar in texture to silk. The thick, durable petals were abundant, too, with the ends curling up into themselves like large bolts of fabric. It was impossible to resist making use of these petals for this purpose. She found many unique plants with too many useful functions to mention. It soon became apparent that the highest purpose of the forest and its plant life was to please her. The flowers and plants not only served, but they did so in such an extraordinary and delightful way that they couldn’t fail to please, and Catherine was completely charmed out of her former life.
In her enchanted forest, time quickly lost all authority over Catherine. She was no longer even aware of the passing days and weeks. Catherine busied herself with taking advantage of the manyjoys and opportunities the forest offered her. In time, she was able to fashion beautiful attire from flowers and leaves—stunning clothes that seemed to caress her skin while allowing her to move more freely. Everything she needed to sustain her life grew out of the enchanted soil, and they consisted of the most appealing and beneficial properties she had ever known. All of her senses were constantly awed and enchanted.
The only thing missing from this tiny paradise Catherine had stumbled into was a companion. In all of the time that she had been there, she had never seen another living soul. There was plenty of animal life that she encountered but never a trace of another person. Catherine had been talking to the plants almost from the beginning, and over time she started to believe that they could hear and understand her. There were moments when she doubted her own sanity, but she could swear that whenever she opened her mouth the plants seemed to, ever so slightly, lean in her direction and listen. And there was something else out there, too, it seemed to her—some other being that watched over her and listened. Sometimes it seemed so close that she thought she could actually feel its breath upon her neck. But when she turned her head to look, there would be nothing there. This was not overly frustrating for her, though, because she was perfectly willing now to believe in those things she couldn’t see. She trusted that she was sensing something that was actually there. She began to think of them as fairies. Recalling everything that she had ever learned about fairies as a child, they seemed to offer the most likely explanation. She had read in Irish folklore that fairies were actually spirits, wandering the earth in between lives. They had a reputation for being kind and generous overall, although at times they were said to be impish and mischievous. This made sense to her, and it seemed to fit with what she felt about the invisible beings that filled the atmosphere all around her. In time, she was speaking to them as if these suppositions had been confirmed.
But whatever benevolent spirit or fairy or enchantment it was, one thing that Catherine came to know for certain was that no matter what she might wish for, it would inevitably appear. This was something she had not only learned to accept, but came to expect. If she, for example, craved something sweet, she would instantly catch the scent of nectar from some utterly delightful fruit. Or, if erotic thoughts tempted her consciousness, the wind was apt to suddenly bring a stray flower to lightly caress the eager flesh between her legs.
All of her senses were heightened. Her hearing, in particular, seemed keener than ever. She was becoming more and more aware of sounds she had never even noticed before, whereas the noises she had heard all of her life—particularly those that crept in from outside of her enchanted forest—were suddenly strange and unfamiliar to her, and even a cause for fear. Any such noise would send her deeper into the woods to hide. Her existence before discovering her magical forest was no longer of interest to her. She had finally found peace in this place where she could exist in perfect harmony with the world around her. There was much of intrigue and humor and even romance in the life-forms she now communicated with. She began to equate all good fortune with the entities she had come to think of as fairies, and blame any misfortunes, such as storms or other mild discomforts, on “demons.” She spoke to both as if they were right there beside her at all times, for she believed their existence was solely centered on hers. She adapted to her new life fully and seamlessly, even dressing like a woodland nymph, in the stunning shades produced by the wildflowers of the forest. She designed her clothing purely for amusement, and it always left her fully exposed to the elements and open to the whims of whatever chose to please her. She could not imagine hiding her breasts from the numerous plants and flowers that seemed to take pleasure in caressing and clinging to them, any more than she could close up her own grasping flower from the various woodland life-forms that would sample the nectar that flowed forth from there. She kept that part of herself always ready and exposed, her trembling, delicate petals always ready to unfold and open to new pleasures. Even the rain possessed the power to arouse her; she would lie in the soft grass and raise her hips up toward the sky, relishing every single droplet that fell.
Catherine looked up at the sky, aware that a storm was approaching. Angry molecules crackled in the air all around her. Her skin prickled in response. She was decked out in a colorful outf it she had crafted that very day. The top consisted of dried strands of grass held together at the top, just above her breasts, by a band of stunningly bright flowers, and the bottom, which just barely fell to her thighs, was the same. Every now and then, a gust of wind would whip through the dried grass, exposing bits of pink flesh and causing the slightly roughened edges of the grass to scratch and tease her tender flesh. She shivered in anticipation as she rushed out toward the open field.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
