Intended Ch. 07

"Kitad, if you are aware something, you should tell us; any additional information will assist us in helping them recover."

"It was told to me in confidence, Keta," he explained reluctantly.

"Under the circumstances, I think they will understand."

"This information must remain confidential," he insisted. "I will say nothing until I have your word it will not leave this shelter."

The others nodded their heads, though it was not they about whom the Lead Flintknapper was concerned.

"Very well, Kitad. It will not leave this place. Please, speak."

"While they were away from our Camp, Sala had a...close call and now suffers from an intense fear of drowning. She and the Light-Eyed One took the canoe out on the lake today to help her begin to face her fear."

The Leader's lips drew tightly. "I see. And most likely when the canoe flipped it triggered this fear of hers."

"It is more than normal fear, Clan Leader," Nira clarified. "It is fear so powerful it causes irrationality, physical problems. My brother once suffered from the same condition."

"He too was afraid of drowning?"

"No. For him it was high places. But like Sala, it developed after a traumatic experience in such a location and his reaction was not dissimilar."

"What can be done for it?"

"My brother was healed over time with gradual exposure under safe conditions. As Kitad mentioned earlier, that is the reason why Sala and Jakal were on the lake this morning. It took a number of moon cycles, but with the support of friends and family and the Spiritwalker's counsel..." Nira stopped abruptly, realizing, to her horror, the last thing Keta should hear was the suggestion that Sala receive assistance from their own spiritual leader.

The others snapped up their heads upon hearing the woman's words, unable to conceal their alarm; the Clan Leader noticed the reaction.

"Given recent events, I think it unlikely that Sala would seek out the Spiritwalker for counsel," she acknowledged. After a pause she continued. "I do not suppose any of you are aware of the reason Sala and Jakal seem to have an antagonistic relationship with our spiritual leader?"

"Sala was nearly forced into a sacred bond with a man she did not want, Keta, and then she joined with Jakal, preventing the Spiritwalker from taking her as a mate," Belak responded. "I think that is cause enough for discomfort all around, do you not agree?"

His explanation sounded reasonable enough. But once again the Clan Leader was left with the impression that others knew something she did not.

"Are you certain of that, Belak? It appears to me there is a bit more to it. I know many of you have been spending..."

Jakal began moaning, silencing the woman as they all turned their attention onto the man bundled in the furs. Suddenly he sat up.

"Sala!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with panic. Regaining his senses, he recognized where he was. Looking down at the woman next to him he asked, touching her face, "My mate; how is she?" If nothing else, he could see the color returning to her skin.

"She will be fine, Jakal," Nira reassured him gently. "Sala is sleeping. As you can see she is breathing much better now. I think the shock of the experience has drained her and her body needs rest."

"You need rest as well, Light-Eye," Keta added. "Your people will take care of you both."

Without argument he lay back down, this time on his side so he could take Sala into his arms. Burrowing his face into her still-wet hair, he silently begged his mate for forgiveness once more before falling asleep himself.

~*~*~

When Jakal woke the light in the shelter was dim. He looked up to see Nefa sitting at his side, holding in her hands a wooden bowl containing something steaming and aromatic. It was then he noticed his hunger.

"Drink this, Light-Eyed One," she instructed, lifting the bowl to his lips. As he greedily gulped down the savory, meaty broth, the woman advised, "Slowly, Jakal. You have not eaten since this morning."

"Is it night?" he asked.

"Yes. The sun dropped from the sky some time ago. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted." He turned his head to gaze at his sleeping woman. "Has she...?"

Nefa nodded. "She roused for a little bit earlier this evening. Like you, she was very tired, and confused at first. She is aware she is safe now; you need not worry about her."

"How can I not worry?" he muttered. "Sala trusted me, and I have only made her fear worse."

"Do not blame yourself. It was an accident."

"Perhaps, but she would not be in this...condition had I not pushed her so hard. I knew she was not ready yet, but still I insisted she 'face her fear'." His blue eyes were full of remorse. "What was I thinking, Nefa? How could I have done this to her?"

"You were only trying to help her, Jakal. Chastising yourself accomplishes nothing, and I am certain Sala would not want you to feel guilty." She paused. "Would you like to try getting up for a little bit, perhaps have something more substantial to eat?"

Once she had mentioned rising from the furs the man realized he needed to empty his bladder.

"I am hungry," he admitted. "Nefa, would you please hand me a garment from my bag? I need to relieve myself."

Quickly she retrieved his clothing. Handing it to him, she asked, "Shall I get one of the men to accompany you to the pits?"

Jakal shook his head and forced himself to smile. "No thank you. I can manage on my own."

She left the shelter so he could dress. Tying the waist of his leggings, the Light-Eyed One kneeled beside his mate, caressing her warm cheek as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Just to be certain he pressed his fingers to her neck, checking her pulse, sighing with relief upon confirming its regularity.

"I am sorry, my love," he apologized again, leaning in and kissing her face, pressing his cheek against hers for a moment.

Passing through the camp, many individuals, noticing he had risen, approached to inquire about both his and Sala's condition.

"We are both fine; Sala is resting right now. Thank you for asking," he said over and over to countless people. He knew they were just expressing their support and concern, for which he felt grateful, but he was also preoccupied, struggling with his guilt, and the last thing he wanted right now was to talk to any of them.

But still they came, and before long he could barely contain his exasperation. By the time Veba approached she did not stand a chance.

With a covered bowl in her hands, voice full of sympathy, she greeted him. "Jakal. I saw what happened this morning."

Along with everyone else, the man thought irritably.

She went on. "I am glad to see you up and about. I have been so worried about you. And your mate," she quickly added. "How is she?"

"Sala will be fine; thank you for asking, Veba. If you will excuse me," he responded, beginning to leave.

Not quite ready for him to leave just yet, the woman continued, her voice picking up speed for fear he would depart in mid-sentence. "I am glad to hear that. I have prepared a dish for you, for you both." She proffered the bowl.

"Thank you, Veba, but I cannot take it right now," he replied, getting ready to explain that he could not take food where he was going at that moment.

"I must insist," she pressed, placing it firmly in his hands.

"But I..."

"No buts. The last thing you need to worry about right now is cooking."

Rather than try to argue further, he sighed, finally accepting her offering. "Thank you, Veba; I am sure it will be delicious. I will return your container the day after this one. Now if you will excuse me, I really must go," he informed her, a bit more shortly than he meant it to sound.

Veba watched him walk away. Her eyes hungrily scanned the back of his body as the muscles rippled. Someday, she thought. Someday I will share that man's...

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she saw the Light-Eyed One hand the bowl she had just given him to one of the older women before moving on. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

So, not even my food is good enough for him any longer? She felt anger rising in her throat. Who does he think he is? Why do I bother? Plenty of men desire me; even the most powerful man in this entire Clan can barely control his lust.

As she stomped off, lost in her thoughts, she literally ran into Letan.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as their bodies collided. "Veba, are you all right?" he inquired, touching her shoulder.

At that moment the woman knew exactly what she needed to get her mind off the Light-Eye's insult. With a sultry smile she answered, sliding her fingers toward his groin, "I am, but I could be much better."

Her message loud and clear, the man grinned. "Then let me see what I can do to improve your situation."

By the time Jakal had returned, retrieving the dish from the Elder on his way back to the shelter, he realized his behavior the last two times he interacted with Veba had been a little rude. He scanned the camp for her, hoping to apologize for his abruptness, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

~*~*~

Lying naked on the furs Veba and Letan kissed, their tongues deep in each other's mouth. He reached down to fondle her amazingly soft, massive breasts, his favorite thing about this particular woman's body, and was surprised to feel what seemed to be long, thin scars all over them. In the darkness he could not see them to be sure, so he decided to ask her directly.

"Veba, the skin on your breasts seems...scarred. Were you injured recently?"

The woman froze. Why had she not considered this? After three days away from the Spiritwalker, she had grown too comfortable, careless. What was she going to say?

The Toolmaker noticed she had not yet responded to his inquiry. Just before he opened his mouth again, she spoke.

"Oh, that. When I was bathing a few days ago I decided to try out a new plant for cleaning my body that some of the other women said they liked. Unfortunately it gave me a rash in several places, so I cannot use it myself. It is nothing that can pass to you," she assured him.

As he ran his hands over their pillowy curves the man tried more deliberately to examine the texture of the roughened skin. This does not feel like any rash I am aware of, he thought. Lowering his lips to suckle, he noted that her nipples appeared similarly affected, so he explored them gently as he buried his face into her bosom.

Withdrawing his mouth from her hardened nubs, he commented, "Your nipples seem tender as well. Am I too rough?"

She laughed. "Oh, no, not at all. If anything, Toolmaker, you are too gentle."

"Well if that is the case..." he replied, sitting up and straddling her trunk. Squeezing her weighty breasts together around his engorged organ, Letan thrust his hips, sliding his enormous manhood within their gelatinous mass. He grinned lewdly, his arousal heightened by the knowledge that here he was, the most well-endowed man in the Clan, pumping his member between the largest breasts.

Though he grew close to his release, he hoped to continue playing with those succulent mounds of hers; Letan considered asking Veba to stay the entire night. He knew it was not proper, but being the most popular man in the Camp, next to the Light-Eye, of course, brought with it some liberties. Women were usually so desirous of his prodigious tool he could get away with doing and saying things most men would never risk for fear of offense. What he did not expect was what she requested of him.

"Letan, take my back passage," he thought she said, at the same time certain he had to be mistaken. Still, he was surprised enough that he let go of her breasts; they fell apart, leaving his manhood lying on her chest, pointing up at her face.

"Did you say...?"

"Yes, enter my second opening," she confirmed, the edge of a demand in her voice as she pushed him off her so she could turn onto her stomach.

It was not something the man frequently heard from the women with whom he shared bodies. Because he was so large in both length and girth -- men and women alike joked that Letan carried the trunk of a tree between his legs -- he usually had to restrain himself from entering too quickly, and once inside, thrusting too deeply. While some found the head of his shaft bumping the back of their womanhood stimulating, just as many did not, and for a few the experience was actually painful.

For Letan, joining bodies in the manner Veba proposed proved highly satisfying; the snug tunnel accommodated his entire length as few womanhoods could while its unbelievable tightness gripped his shaft in an intensely pleasurable way. But because of his size not many of his lovers were eager to make the attempt. He could sometimes persuade them to try, but they did not often agree to it again. So for a woman to actually ask it of him made him grow even thicker and more rigid than he already was.

With great excitement he slid his fingers into her sopping sex, covering them in her natural lubrication. He paused to stroke her stiffened node, grateful for the gift he was about to receive.

He could feel her writhing and moaning beneath him, urging him to move on. Parting her buttocks, he once again felt skin scarred like her breasts, but he was so aroused he let it go, choosing instead to slip his digits into the split between the mounds of flesh, making contact with her pursed bud.

"Yesss," she groaned as his fingertips caressed the puckered skin. "Put them inside. No, both of them at once," she corrected when only one entered her clenching orifice.

Her wanton impatience made his bursting member shudder in anticipation, its tip leaking continuously in preparation of penetrating her narrow canal.

"That is enough," she told him. "Do it now."

"But I have barely loosened the entrance, Veba; I might..."

"Do it now, Letan," she ordered. "I want that immense manhood of yours splitting me open."

He groaned, unable to believe his ears. Parting her folds, he penetrated her quickly, more quickly than usual, but she was so wet her body accommodated him easily as he thrust in and out a few times. After coating himself with her secretions, he placed the bulbous tip of his shaft on the tiny circular bud.

"Do it, Letan. Do not make me wait any longer, or are you not man enough to take what you want?" she taunted.

Fine, he thought; she wants to be split open, we will see if reality matches her fantasy.

Biting down into the furs to keep from screaming, luscious pain washed over her, concentrated on the constricted band of muscle as his mighty organ seared its way inside, stretching her beyond anything she ever dreamed possible. After her ring locked over the head, Letan stopped to allow her to become used to his presence.

"I did not tell you to stop," she snarled, gritting her teeth. "Keep going, Toolmaker, and do not stop until you can go no further."

"Veba, I might hurt you," he protested.

"By the Spirits Letan, I do not wish to tell you again. If you cannot give me what I need, tell me now, and I will go find a man who knows what to do with his tool."

That made him angry. He was only trying to be a considerate partner, and she repeatedly responded with insults. Now that she had given him permission to "take what he wanted," he would indeed hesitate no longer. Rarely could he allow himself complete unrestraint; he might as well enjoy himself fully.

As he filled her with one long, punishing thrust, Veba felt her burning hole submit to his incredible thickness. From the shooting pain she knew he had torn her, but as her body simultaneously flooded with great pleasure she did not care. Lifting herself onto her knees, she pushed back to force the rest of him inside as she groaned in agony and ecstasy.

"You think you are so impressive. All you need to do is show up with that ponderous manhood of yours and we women are supposed to be so in awe that you do not have to expend any effort," she mocked, her scorched bottom pressed hard against his pubic bone. "Well, I expect a lover to be a more active participant."

Sweat trickling down his body, Letan could restrain himself no longer. Roughly grabbing her shoulders, he pulled back almost all the way before slamming into her deeply. "Why are you intentionally trying to anger me, woman?" he raged, plunging into her again and again.

"That is more like it!" she laughed between the slaps of their bodies colliding. "I was starting to... Mmph...wonder if you... Uhhh...were more boy than man... Mmph...not worthy of the Spirits' gift."

"Oh, I assure you, woman, I am more man than you can handle."

"I doubt that very much," she responded, slamming back to meet his thrusts. "Even now you are barely up to the task."

Growling, Letan snatched her swinging breasts in both hands, pinching the nipples as hard as he could until Veba screamed. Satisfied he had given her a little taste of the abuse she had dished out, he took hold of her shoulders again and, using them for leverage, pounded her puckered hole with all his power. He totally abandoned the control he was forced to exercise since he became a man, being told over and over to go slow, to be gentle, that he was too big, even as they lined up repeatedly for more. Did they not understand he tried to be careful, he did not want to hurt them, that his size was as much a curse as a gift?

What he could not know was that even as the woman jeered him, it was not Letan's face Veba pictured in her mind as he hammered her injured orifice; rather, it was that of two other men. It was the Light-Eyed One she derided, the one she humiliated, and it was the Spiritwalker to whom she succumbed.

A tremendous wave of pleasure broke through the pain, and just as she felt Letan's extraordinary tool swelling, ready to unleash his burning seed into her bowels, Veba crested, milking him within her throbbing, clenching depths until he filled her with his essence.

~*~*~

When Letan woke he found himself alone in his lean-to. Feeling the cold furs next to him, he knew the woman had left his side long ago. As he began to remember what had happened the night before, shame and confusion flooded him.

Throwing off the covers, he made ready to get dressed so he could go outside to drain his organ when he looked down and saw it streaked with dried blood. Then, to his alarm he noticed several splotches of blood on the furs as well, where the woman had lain.

He jumped up in a panic, as if he had touched something diseased. By the Spirits, what have I done? I really hurt her. Great Spirits, what am I going to do? He tried to think. I must find her, he determined. I must find Veba and beg her forgiveness. Not that she would have any reason to accept his apology, not after he treated her like a...piece of flesh.

Why, Spirits, why? Why did she push me? Why did she try to enrage me? She did not try to enrage you, he reminded himself; she succeeded. And instead of ending the encounter, telling her to leave, he chastised, you got angry and treated her like an animal. No, animals do not behave as you did; you are worse than an animal.

Snatching up his discarded leggings, Letan dressed and raced outside.

The Toolmaker found the woman hauling a heavy skin of water from the lake. Rushing up to her, he relieved her of her burden.

"Thank you, Letan," she acknowledged, barely looking at him. Beyond that, she said nothing.

"Veba, I am so sorry. I did not realize I how badly I hurt you. You must think me a brute, and you would not be mistaken."

"Why would I think that?"

Was she serious? He stared at her slack-jawed. "Veba...I saw the blood on the furs...and on me. Are you...are you going to be all right?"

Her face grew crimson, and still she did not meet his gaze. "Oh, that. Yes, I am fine, Letan. Do not trouble yourself about it."