Intended Ch. 07

"Harder, yes, do it! Jakal, do it!" Sala demanded, her hands gripping his shoulders forcefully, nostrils flaring like a woman overtaken by an errant spirit as she rose to her toes, grinding and driving this nameless, awesome instrument, harder than anything inside her before, further into her fiery depths.

His blue eyes blazing with lust as he held her gaze captive, his thrusts picked up speed, pressing the side of the ridged shaft firmly against that swollen place, increasing the friction as he rubbed it in tight circles on each inward journey, plunging and withdrawing, plunging and withdrawing again and again.

Sala's eyes rolled up as they fluttered closed, her body beginning to submit as the first mighty convulsion ripped through her. Both hands dropped loosely to her sides, the tree trunk and one of Jakal's arms alone propping her up. All she could do was grunt as she spasmed over and over; then everything went black.

When the woman came to she discovered to her amazement that she still stood, her body hot and trickling with sweat. She opened her eyes to find her mate looking at her lovingly as he continued, albeit slower and more gently now, sliding the object in and out of her sopping canal.

"I take it the answer to my question is yes?" he speculated, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Yes?" she echoed, completely confused.

"I had asked you if you liked how this," he withdrew the item in question, "rubbed the special place inside your womanhood."

Sala shifted her eyes to the carving, glistening with her copious fluids which covered the hand holding it in front of her.

"Is that...?"

He nodded slowly, giving her a sly smile.

An aftershock quaked through her body, remembering the ecstasy it had, he had bestowed upon her. She then placed her palm on top of the lump which burned beneath his leggings, caressing him through the soft leather.

"I believe someone is in need of relief," she teased, her voice low as her fingertips tickled the surface.

Slowly gliding her hands from his crotch to the waist of his garment, Sala untied the thong, skimming his skin as she drew the leather unhurriedly down his legs, inducing a groan for the way she tormented him.

As she kneeled, his trembling organ jutted out before her, its tip slippery with his essence. Encircling it with her hand, she gasped at its size and the incredible heat it produced; his manhood was nearly as rigid as the carving, but far thicker and magnificently alive. The woman eagerly guided it between her lips.

"Ahhh. Oh Sala," Jakal moaned as a shudder danced up his spine and out through his limbs.

The warmth of his throbbing member filling her mouth, she took him deeper and deeper with every stroke until her nose made contact with his pubic hair. Her lungs inhaled fully the scent of his personal maleness and she sighed with contentment. The hum of her expiration reverberated against his manhood and he moaned again, his body quaking helplessly.

"Uhhh, you wild, wondrous woman..." he cried out, dropping the carving to the ground as his large hands descended upon her head, running his fingers through her silky hair.

Withdrawing him from her mouth she flattened her tongue and, lifting his tool, licked him from base to tip before swirling it around and around the nearly-bursting head. Lost in the sensations flowing through him, the man undulated his hips instinctively as she brought him ever closer toward the pinnacle.

Nudging his legs apart so he that stood with a wider stance, Sala crouched beneath him and, gently lifting his sacs, traced a line between them and the clenched muscles of his rear opening with the tip of her tongue. As she worked it back and forth Jakal shook with pleasure, certain he would lose control. With the final pass her tongue remained at the pursed bud and started circling the wrinkled skin as she parted his buttocks to allow her freer access.

Though he had given such gifts to his partners many times before, his mate was the first to explore him in this manner, and at last he understood why his lovers had writhed beneath him, screaming as his tongue probed the entrance to their secret passage. His muscles quivered and he found it increasingly difficult to stand, but he did not wish to ask her to stop.

As if she could understand his dilemma Sala crawled out from under him and, taking his hands, she brought him to his hands and knees before resuming her task. As the orifice grew slick from her saliva, she began experimenting with breaching its border, finding it ever easier to penetrate.

While her tongue prodded the musky hole she felt his body tensing as he moaned wordlessly. Aware he approached the cliff she reached around and wrapped her fist around his hot shaft. Holding it firmly in her grasp she stroked him, the smooth foreskin adding to the lusciousness of her soft hand sliding back and forth as she burrowed into his narrow opening.

Letting go, Jakal unleashed a groan from deep within, his manhood lurching as it shot its stream into the ground beneath him again and again, his ring pulsating around her tongue.

Veba froze, convinced the moan escaping her lips had exposed her as she hid in the bushes nearby, her tunic hiked above her waist as her fingers played desperately with her aching nub. Her womanhood pounded, inflamed from her most recent whipping, but her arousal was simply too strong to resist plunging her fingers deeply inside herself while she massaged her wet button.

After a few tense moments, holding her breath, she relaxed once she recognized they were so intent on their own activities they had not noticed her and went on manipulating her node. She almost could not believe what she was seeing; Sala was not only orally pleasuring the Light-Eyed One's back opening, she was clearly enjoying it herself. The woman observed the other female's exposed folds, swollen and dripping as she probed her lover.

Despite the fact that she herself found receiving such stimulation highly gratifying, Veba had always refused to reciprocate. She could not bring herself to do it and privately feared that the Spiritwalker would learn of her discomfort for that particular act, thereby demanding it of her. The man seemed to derive the greatest satisfaction from imposing upon her the very things about which she felt most reluctant. How he unearthed such secrets she did not know, but he managed to do so over and over; in the end it was probably only a matter of time before he discovered this one as well.

Still, both the woman's and the Light-Eye's reaction to this communion flooded her body with desire, and before she knew it she was twisting her tender lips and squeezing her hardened bud. Ever since the first night with the Spiritwalker Veba found that even when she was alone she craved pain in order to achieve release, and today was no exception.

With some effort she managed to pull one of her heavy breasts out of the top of her tunic. Using her free hand, she pinched her nipple as hard as she could without eliciting a scream and soon she began to buck when she finally reached her peak.

Seeing them staggering to their feet, the woman panicked as she realized she probably should not have observed them from so close. As there was no time to situate herself properly she fled into the woods with one breast dangling outside her garment, pleading with the Great Spirits that the Tracker would not notice she had been there.

The Spirits did not answer her call, for as the two mates hiked toward the trail the man stopped, his nose detecting just the slightest hint of...something. Crouching down next to a clump of bushes, he noted the trampled grass and the partial imprint of a body.

"What is it?" Sala asked.

"Someone was here, recently, and after we arrived," he told her, looking into her worried face.

"Was it...?" She was too afraid to finish the question, the thought of the shaman spying upon their lovemaking more than a little disturbing.

"I do not think so. The impression in the grass is too small; also, the footprints are not large, and do not sink deeply into the ground. The Spiritwalker is not an extremely large man, but he is certainly much bigger and heavier than the signs left here." Jakal sniffed again, and then it hit him as he suddenly identified the fading traces of the familiar scent. "It was a woman," he informed her. "And I...I think she was aroused."

Sala started laughing, highly amused. "I wonder who it was?"

"Well, she headed off this way." He pointed to the fresh path leading off the main trail. "Should we go hunt her down?" His tone was playful.

"No," she giggled. "I am sure she ran because she did not want the embarrassment of being caught." Her mind drifted to her own recent experience of being the watcher; although Belak had not minded, she remembered how horrified she felt at that moment when he first discovered her staring at him and his mate while they joined bodies.

Smiling, Jakal kissed her. Putting his arm around her waist he said, "Come, my beautiful Sala. Let us instead go wash your new carving in the stream, and then we shall find your friends."

~*~*~

Full of excitement and the exuberance of youth, children ran shouting back and forth along the path from the head of the line to their caregivers as the Wolf Clan traveled over wide open meadows and gently rolling hills, drawing ever closer to their lakeside destination.

Puffy clouds so thick they appeared soft as a pile of the plushest furs drifted lazily in the brilliant blue sky. As the sun dispelled the last traces of morning chill, a faint breeze breathed its warm caress against the skin.

Sala smiled with joy as she held Jakal's hand, their connected limbs swinging playfully as one while they talked and joked. She felt as carefree as the darting children, her heart filled with contentment, walking on this perfect day with her beloved.

Knowing that the Spiritwalker would be nowhere near them for the next several days imparted a giddy ease upon her, offering a delicious taste of what life among her people could be without the specter of his malignant spirit bearing down on her.

His mate's radiance this morning somehow made her even more beautiful than usual, and Jakal's smile widened as the reality that she was his woman swept over him.

Leaning down he placed his lips to her ear and whispered, "No man is more fortunate than me, having the privilege of being at your side."

Beaming, she turned her head, catching his eyes, the same vivid shade as the sky surrounding them, in hers. The intensity of their color and the feeling behind them took her breath away.

"Then I suppose we both must be the luckiest members of our Clan, for no woman is more fortunate than me to share in your company."

Sala was so happy that she thought it might even be possible for her to try riding in one of the boats after all.

Woven tightly of reeds, the light craft made it possible to traverse the lake's expanse to those areas where many fish congregated. Steered by paddles consisting of a moose antler attached to a wooden shaft, the boats could hold three to four individuals. Their people currently kept four of these vehicles at the lake at any given time; inspecting and repairing or replacing them annually was one of the tasks to be completed while they were there. In addition to the reed boats, the Wolf Clan also possessed a canoe, capable of holding up to four more, carved from the trunk of a massive tree.

Partially bordered by a forest, the people believed the body of water must have been much smaller once than it was now, for several generations ago they discovered a stretch some distance from the shoreline containing the remnants of many trees, a few of the largest still upright. Though here and there the tips of branches pierced the placid surface, the former grove remained largely hidden from view.

In what was once the home of countless birds, enormous schools of fish now found refuge. Though it took a great deal of cautious navigation and skillful coordination to keep the nets from getting snagged, several successful hauls in this region of the lake would quickly yield what they needed to catch for that year. The sooner they could get the fish cleaned, filleted and strung over the fires for smoking, the more free time they had to simply enjoy themselves until everything was dry and ready to carry back to the Camp.

For the last two days Jakal had been urging Sala to consider taking a brief ride on one of the boats as a means to help conquer her recently acquired phobia. He argued that the lake was tranquil, not swift-moving as the great river, so that left just one fear with which to contend -- the water's depth. If she could have just one positive experience, that meant she could have another, and after a time she might feel ready to face the river once more.

The woman understood he was only trying to help, his insistence motivated by a desire to stave off attempts by the Spiritwalker to exploit her weaknesses; her mate worried she had grown just a bit too comfortable. He was not incorrect, even if his observation stung a little.

One of the reasons why Sala ran away was because she could not trust that anyone else would fight for her, would prevent the shaman from hurting her again. Then Jakal stood by her side without hesitation, pledging to do whatever was necessary to keep her from harm. Later on Fox Clan's spiritual leader proved trustworthy, as did Belak, Ritol and all the others. Even Kitad looked out for her now. She had not anticipated such stalwart support, and having received it provided a certain sense of safety.

Safety, of course, was an illusion. She could not expect their allies to wrap their lives around protecting her from the Spiritwalker indefinitely, and she most certainly did not want to spend the rest of her days worrying about his scheming. It was just...she never expected feeling so cared for again, and it was difficult to resist savoring if only for a short while.

Sala was aware Jakal's efforts were intended to help her overcome her anxiety. But despite his sympathy for her plight, he did not understand what it meant to be seized by paralyzing fear, a terror so potent that breathing seemed impossible, death a certainty. She could not do it yet, she was not ready...why could he not see that?

So he pushed a little, and she pushed back, and they got nowhere but more frustrated. Officially they had reached an impasse, but Sala knew he had not given up hope of changing her mind, even if she herself knew it would not change.

Until today.

Four beautiful summer days at the lake lay ahead of her. With the man she loved by her side, surrounded by friends and the ebullient atmosphere of one of her people's most highly-anticipated yearly gatherings and, best of all, the Spiritwalker nowhere in sight, Sala thought she might be able to accomplish anything.

~*~*~

That night the Clan feasted on some of their first haul. It was not often they could eat as much fresh fish as they wanted; while fish certainly lived in the stream running near the settlement, they were nowhere near as plentiful as they were here. At the lake everyone could stuff their bellies full, and after a day of intensive labor they were hungry indeed.

Now that they were satiated, individuals carrying skins of fermented beverage began making their way throughout the camp, and before long the joking and laughter of well-lubricated tongues punctuated the night air.

Sala and Jakal sat around a campfire with their friends, only this night they were joined by one more. The woman was glad Kitad had suggested bringing his second mate into their group. Though quite a few years younger than the man to whom she was joined, Nira brought a serenity that reminded Sala a little of her own mother, and she could not help but wonder if that was part of the reason the Lead Flintknapper had been attracted to her in the first place.

While the others bantered playfully, Nira leaned close to the young woman beside her and said discreetly, "Kitad tells me you are going to try riding in a boat the day after this next one."

Sala's stomach flipped a little; her courage had been fluctuating all day, ever since she revealed to Jakal her intention to face her fear. As if she knew her thoughts, Nira placed a comforting hand on her knee.

"It is natural to feel fear," she reassured her. "Torel also experienced great anxiety at first."

Torel was Nira's twin brother and a Hunter for Eagle Clan, where they both grew up. Situated in a valley surrounded by steep hills and outcroppings of rock, the Camp derived most of its meat from the sheep which scaled the nearby cliffs. In this territory roamed a beautiful, majestic ram with a most impressive set of curved horns. The animal had eluded the Clan's Hunters for so many years they stopped pursuing him altogether, as much out of respect for its powerful survival instinct as it was accepting that their efforts were simply a waste of time.

As a brash young man Torel insisted that he would be successful where the others failed, and in his free time stalked the ram, studying its habits, determined to bring home those horns himself. Despite the warnings of those both wiser and more experienced, Torel set out alone one morning to bag the animal once and for all.

Time and again he nearly had him cornered, and time and again it managed to escape. Losing his patience, Torel followed the ram far beyond where the Hunters normally traveled. A treacherous area where rocks gave way easily, it was simply too dangerous to traverse unless absolutely necessary.

Fixated on his prey, the young man neglected to notice a stone knocked loose when the animal once more bounded out of reach. Stepping on the unstable surface, he slipped and found himself on the verge of falling off the cliff.

Clinging desperately to the edge, Nira's brother knew death lay only an instant away. Still, the will to survive burned brightly, and for the first time he truly understood why the other Hunters left the ram in peace. Even in his panic he somehow found a foothold, and with every last bit of his strength, groaning, he pulled himself up, clawing back onto solid ground.

As the shock of the immediate crisis passed, Torel was suddenly seized by a fear so terrifying he could not even lift himself to his feet lest he fall off the edge again. By the time the sun dropped from the sky he crept just far enough to collapse into a shallow bed of pine needles.

Though he nearly died from exposure that night, the young man survived; one of the Trackers located him by late morning the next day, his friends carrying him home.

After this experience Torel grew unable to traverse anyplace where the ground rose high into the sky; possessed by debilitating bouts of panic, he was deeply ashamed by the powerful grip these attacks held over him and understood he would have no choice but to abandon his chosen skill if he could not find a way to surmount his affliction. Fortunately, over the course of many moon cycles and with the help of their Spiritwalker, the young man eventually recovered.

Other than Jakal, Kitad was the only person with whom Sala had shared her fear of drowning. Aware his mate's brother had suffered a similar trauma, he shared with Jakal the means by which Torel overcame his phobia. Once Nira had been brought into their inner circle, the Lead Flintknapper suggested she might be someone to whom the young woman could turn for support and guidance.

Sala took a deep breath and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Nira. That is what I keep trying to tell myself. Part of me feels angry and ashamed for being so weak. I wish I could force myself not to be afraid."

"Like the Spiritwalker told my brother, such fear is not something which can be conquered by mere force of will. Rather it is defeated gently, gradually and with great patience. If I may make a suggestion..." She paused.