The Ship of Souls

Frank took a swig of the rum and immediately choked on the contents. "Holy hell! What the fuck is that?" he demanded between fits of coughing and fanning at his tongue with an open palm.

The Madame's eyes twinkled in amusement. "It's hot rum," she fairly purred. "Puerto Rican rum with steeped hot peppers! Is it too spicy for you?" she asked in an innocent tone. "I could get you something else," she offered with a bit of mockery.

"No! No, this is fine," Frank assured her waving his hand over the glass. "I just wish you would've warned me. When you said, 'hot rum', I was thinking more along the lines of hot buttered rum," he grumbled belligerently.

"I'm so sorry! I assumed you liked hot things," she cooed with a wink of mischief. Frank wondered if she had overheard his comment about her being hot. He felt himself flush again.

The woman's demeanor changed quickly. She cast a serious look at both men. "Now, let's get down to business, gentlemen." She focused her attention on Frank. "I've already explained most of this to your friend, so I'll repeat it for your benefit, Mon Cheri. I'm not a witch. I'm a priestess. A voodoo priestess. I am directly descended from Madame Marie Laveau," she stated matter-of-factly. Frank grunted in response.

"Voodoo is a serious business," she warned. "It's a religion that incorporates both Catholicism and pagan beliefs, in this case, Haitian magic. We feast. We drink. We dance to drum music and we chant. Sometimes, we build alters to the gods and goddesses, and we even make sacrifices to them. All of this is done to invoke the spirits. We invite them to join us in order to receive their blessings," she explained.

"Blessings?" Frank asked sounding skeptical.

"Favors," she replied sharply. She leaned forward a bit in her seat to emphasize her words. "Sometimes, they join us as apparitions. Occasionally, they come in human form. But, the most common way is by possession," she stated firmly. Frank snorted uncomfortably at the notion of possession. The woman shrugged in response.

"There are believers and non-believers. Both have witnessed these things. You don't have to believe to see what takes place during the ceremonies. But, be warned of one thing," she cautioned. "The dancers take on the personalities of those spirits they invoke. Keep a safe distance between yourselves and the participants," she advised.

Frank shifted in his chair and squinted at her. "So, what are we talking here? Are you saying that your devotees become violent?" he asked warily.

"Sometimes," she shrugged indifferently. "They may bite, scratch, or even attack another dancer. If you get too close, you could be in physical danger, I suppose. I've seen all sorts of strange behavior. Rape, torture, even blood-letting, and vampirism. If you don't want to run the risk of that, then keep your distance. This isn't a game, gentlemen. As I said before, it's a serious business and it can have serious repercussions."

"Sounds like a real blast," Frank retorted. "Now, let me remind you, as an attorney, that possession is no legal defense for criminal acts like assault or rape. There has never been a single criminal case acquitted on the grounds of demonic possession," he pointed out with rye sarcasm.

"Possession in itself is impossible to either prove or disprove. As for criminal acts, that is why I issue these warnings. Most of what does happen is relatively benign. There are no real lasting effects. But, there can be exceptions," Madam Legendre replied.

She continued, "Keep in mind, when in a state of possession, the physical body is not in control. It is the spirit that controls the actions of the human subject. In a case where the human rejects the loas will, a power-struggle between the loa and the human spirit occurs. Unfortunately, if the human accepts the idea of becoming a vessel for the loa, then they must also inevitably submit to the loa's desires."

"Has there ever been a case in which a human was raped or assaulted by an apparition?" Ian asked.

"Oh, yes! Many, in fact. While I wouldn't call it rape, the most notable has its roots in the bible," she replied with a shrewd wink. "Some call it 'immaculate conception.' Others dismiss it as a complete hoax. It depends upon the individual's beliefs, I suppose."

"Then, you admit that this could all be nothing more than an elaborate act? A staged performance, or hoax?" Frank countered slyly.

The woman nodded. "That isn't uncommon," she readily admitted. "There are those who do prey upon the naive for financial gain, or for other reasons. But, in the end, you will have to judge for yourself from what you see here tonight."

"So, can you guarantee that my friend here is going to meet the woman of his dreams again?" Frank asked bluntly.

"There are no guarantees, Mon Ami. Even in the underworld there exists free-will. It's up to the spirit of the individual summoned to decide whether they wish to respond or not," Madame Legendre replied. "These entities can be fickle at times," she added with a nod.

"Underworld? Then, if this is real, you are dealing with demon spirits," Frank observed with a frown.

"There are essentially both good and bad people in this world. The spirits are no different. The underworld can simply be a place of rest for the souls of the departed. Or, it can be something more sinister. It depends on the individual, and his or her earthly existence," she explained. "For you, Mon Ami, I will call upon the miste to summon Agwe," she said to Ian, laying a hand of reassurance on his arm.

"He is the Captain of the Immamou, the barge that carries the departed to Guinee, the afterlife. This is the one day of the year when we may be lucky enough to see the Immamou bringing the departed back from Guinee to join us here tonight," she informed Frank.

Madame Legendre abruptly stood up. "It is time for the celebrations to begin. If you'll excuse me, I need a moment to prepare. Have another drink and enjoy yourselves, Monsieurs. But, don't forget my words of caution," she warned again.

**********

The tamboulas began. Their rhythmic, hollow sound seemed to fill the night, and drift toward the sky, rising, ever upwards, on layers of the mist. Madame Legendre appeared again, as if by magic, walking slowly, barefoot on the cool, damp earth and bearing an offering of delectable looking seared meat along with steaming vegetables. She placed the offering near a statue of sorts; an iron cast replica of a male penis. As she began to chant, her face became stony, and her eyes looked dull and distant; it was as though she was disembodied somehow.

One by one, the worshippers rose to their feet, at first mildly clapping and swaying to the beat of the drums. They mimicked the words of Madame Legendre, and her movements, as she beckoned to spirits. Papa Legba was the first to be hailed.

Legba is the originator of life and the guardian of the crossroads between the spiritual world and the plane of earthly existence. He is the translator between the two worlds, and without his permission, no other loa could be called into service. The incantations droned on while the dancers each came forward to add their own gifts and enticements to the hoard of offerings to Legba.

One in particular brought forward a well-crafted pipe and a small leather pouch, making as if to lay it among the other gifts. It was suddenly snatched from his hands by another devotee. The thief, examined his bounty carefully, turning the pipe over in his hands until a wicked grin spread across his face. He sniffed the pouch, inhaling deeply the aroma of sweetly spiced tobacco, and his eyes rolled upwards in bliss.

To Ian and Frank, it seemed, at first, some theatrical performance as the dancer appeared to struggle with convincing the audience that he was Legba. He danced a bit more vigorously as he gripped the pipe and pouch close to his chest, seeming to guard it against anyone who might wish to take it from him. Both men, leaned casually back in their seats, stretching their legs and casting doubtful glances at one another.

The intensity of the tamboulas increased, and as they became louder and faster, the dancer representing Legba flung himself down on the ground in front of the iron phallus. His eyes were wide with wonder as he began stuffing both hands, full of morsels of meat, into his mouth at an alarming rate. His cheeks bulged with the evidence of his greed, while he smeared away the grease that dribbled down his chin with the back of his somewhat grimy hand. Suddenly, a visible transformation began to occur.

The dancer, whose body had been muscular and lean only a moment before, began to moan. One foot curled outwards and twisted in a manner that seemed physically impossible to accomplish without the risk of real physical injury, or at the very least, excruciating pain. His moans grew louder, until they became a bellow of one undergoing some form of torture. His leg twisted at the knee to a degree that would render him a cripple, and small, discolored, scaled blotches appeared on his skin. He writhed about on the ground for what seemed an eternity, moaning and rubbing at his misshapen limbs.

At last, the dancer was helped to his feet by the others, and he was handed a crutch for support as he hobbled pathetically around the fire. His face was contorted by sudden aging, and his hair was streaked by gray. The youthful and muscular cheval no longer existed. In his place appeared an old man, plagued by infirmities and disease. Ian and Frank both sat forward in their seats. They had witnessed the transformation, yet were both still disbelieving.

Madame Legendre, with Papa Legba's assistance, called upon other loas to appear. One by one, the dancers fell under the spell of possession as they were mounted by the spirits. Two of the Madame's assistants brought to her a snake which coiled itself around her body as she danced with it. She called forth Dumballah and his wife Aida-Wedo from the spirit world.

Ian and Frank were spell-bound by the two dancers who seemed to transform themselves into the spirits of the snake. A bamboo cage containing both a hen and a cock were presented as offerings for the pair, along with trinkets of silver, and an assortment of foods. The dancers quickly shed their clothes and slithered silently about on the ground, hissing and whistling as snakes often do.

Ian and Frank watched, transfixed, as the snake-dancers entwined with one another and began the act of copulation. Simultaneously, the caged rooster mounted the captive hen and other dancers also paired off to engage in sexual acts that emulated those of Dumballah and Aida-Wedo. The public orgy seemed to be at a fever-pitch as the drummers again increased the tempo of the music.

Frank had a distinct view of the mating ritual. Dumballah's dark cock made a stark contrast against the pink inner lips of the female dancer's narrow and slippery entrance. Frank found himself envying Dumballah's apparent pleasure as he forced the thick and shining head past the soft folds of flesh. The woman let out a gasp that sounded more like a shrill hiss as the bulbous, black instrument disappeared inside of her.

Frank shifted in his seat and frowned as his own cock stiffened and strained upwards, begging for attention while still restrained inside his britches. Beside him, Ian reached to readjust the tightened front of his own pants while he let out a repressed, "Jeez!" in a low whisper of appreciation for the lively action taking place before their very eyes.

A moment later, Dumballah's muscles tensed and quivered. His eyes never blinked or closed as the base of his member visibly pulsed and a thick white fluid seeped from around his embedded cock. The female sighed loudly before disengaging herself and slithering away, while Dumballah's cum still dripped from her gaping slit.

Soon after, Madame Legendre directed her assistants, armed with torches to light their way, to carry to the water's edge a barque prepared with an offering to Agwe. The barque was adorned with seashells and coral, dishes of various delectable fish and shellfish, as well as champagne for the delight of the seafaring loa.

A muscular, young man hailed Agwe with the loud, trumpeting sound of a conch shell as the barque was pushed by the attendants into the dark, still swamps. It was soon swept away by the unseen currents that lay beneath the surface, and it disappeared into the darkness.

Ian watched intently as Madame Legendre continued to chant at the water's edge, beckoning to the spirit of Agwe, calling upon him to bring forth the spirits of the underworld. Time seemed suspended as Ian waited for some sign that the priestess was successful in her endeavor. The moments ticked by with agonizing anticipation.

Ian looked about at the devotees still gathered about the fire, and now fully engaged in all manner of lascivious behavior, either oblivious, or uncaring of his scrutiny. It seemed as if almost everyone, with the exception of him and Frank, were transformed into other entities. His disillusionment grew as he began to adopt Frank's earlier sullen mood.

The priestess suddenly turned her back to the waters, and followed by her attendees, she returned to the ceremonial grounds, without a single backward glance.

Frank seemed immersed in his interest of a lovely girl, who others attended, as she bathed stark naked in what appeared to be an old washtub, barely set in the shadows outside the leaping flames. She stood up now, with beads of water glistening as they trickled down her pale skin. Her body was exquisitely lithe. She had small breasts, perfectly formed, with pert coral-colored nipples that reminded Frank of fresh raspberries, ripe for the plucking, or tasting.

Her mound was delightfully bare, shaved smooth, with a pair of lusciously pouting lips that barely revealed the deep crevice between them. In the darkness, Frank could only slightly discern that small, pink jewel, hidden away beneath a cloak of thin, dark-ruby flesh. A mere glimpse of it made his penis twitch with interest as he panted with the idea of it becoming more fully engorged.

He was overcome by his desire to sample the flavor of that small, tender delicacy between her smooth thighs. His licked his lips as he imagined the sweet, juicy morsel clenched between his teeth and resting against his now salivating tongue. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deep. He could smell her, even from a distance; oiled with sweet perfumes, mixed with the scent of her own sticky sap that oozed from her like maple from a free-flowing tap.

Her movements were decidedly graceful, like a swan, as she allowed her retinue to massage her skin with those oils. He sat bolt upright as she turned her back to him, and her servants parted the sumptuous, pale spheres of her buttocks to oil even there. Frank grew unsteady as he beheld what lay between them.

The gateway was gathered and slightly puckered, as if by a too tightly sewn and drawn together stitch which held it intact and sealed it against any intrusion. The color exceeded the darkness of her coral nipples, slightly grey at the rim, and fading by degrees to a more fleshy color. The shimmer of oil, delicately and liberally applied, enhanced its allure, and he gripped the back of the chair in front of him until his knuckles paled in order to quell the spinning inside his head. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow in his excitement.

He felt weak as he slowly climbed to his feet, still gripping the chair for balance. His vision blurred as if a grey veil descended between him and the girl. His mind went blank except for a nagging drive that ate at the very core of his being. He was being directed by some all-consuming force that dictated his desire to seize and dominate the girl.

"Where are you going?" Ian asked with a puzzled frown. Frank looked strange. He ignored Ian's inquiry and took another shaky step in the direction of his target. "Frank, are you alright? You look a little pale," Ian said as he laid a worried hand upon his friend's arm. Frank looked down slowly at the hand that stayed him, before shaking it off. He threw back his head and manically laughed while unzipping his pants to expose his fully awakened penis. Ian looked shocked by his extreme behavior.

Slowly, methodically, Frank began to dance to the rhythm of the tamboula drums while firmly gripping his elongated organ and waving it lewdly in the air while he grinned wickedly at all those around him. He began shrugging off his clothes and to Ian's astonishment, another dancer approached with a black coat and top-hat, which Frank quickly donned. He seized his friend by the collar and frantically searched his person until he produced a pack of cigarettes from Ian's shirt pocket. He lit two of them, placing one in each side of his mouth and puffing at them simultaneously.

Ian was taken aback by Frank's antics. Frank was no smoker, nor was he normally lecherous or lewd in his behavior. Perhaps he was simply caught up in the frenzy of the moment, Ian conjectured to himself. A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Your friend is under the spell of Papa Ghede," Madame Legendre purred in his ear. "He is the power behind all black magic and the representative of all the dead. A very powerful loa," she warned.

"You mean he's possessed?" Ian asked with bewilderment. She nodded as she watched Frank harass several young female dancers with his lustful antics.

"You will do well to avoid him for the rest of the evening," she sagely advised. "Besides, there are other matters for you to attend," she shrugged. "Agwe has accepted our offering," she said, nodding towards the old dock.

Ian followed her gaze and in the mist he could make out the vague image of a ghostly barge, propelled by the drab figure of a man with a long pole. It made a loud thump as it bumped the dock and a host of equally ghostly looking passengers began to disembark.

Ian sprang to his feet as he recognized the woman from his past. She was wearing the same gown. She seemed to float almost effortlessly across the mist, gliding, rather than walking in his direction. "Who is she?" Ian asked in an awestruck whisper.

"It's up to her to reveal her true identity," Madame Legendre whispered back. She laid a hand of restraint upon his arm. "I caution you again, Mon Ami. The spirits are not always what they seem. She is one of the ancient ones. Her powers transcend the divisions of both space and time. She dwells in all places, at all times; both in the earth and beyond the realms above and below. She is the one who cannot be bound. Be careful!" she warned before hurrying away again.

**********

The mysterious woman approached him slowly, slinking up to him and placing one arm around his neck to draw him closer. He closed his eyes and breathed in the essence of her, before she drew his head down and covered his lips with her own. Her lips parted and she pressed her tongue inside his mouth. He groaned as she sucked at his tongue, and pressed her body against his.

He felt uncomfortably short of breath as she lifted one leg, and seemed to attempt to climb upwards in an effort to mount him. The gown rose above her thighs, revealing her most enticing treasures. He could feel her nipples, rock hard, pressing against his chest, and he slid one hand beneath the dress. She moaned softly as his fingers probed at her voluptuous lips, now parted and ready to grant him entrance to her secret chasm.

She exuded a heavy trickle of slick fluid, mingled with a fevered heat that promised a steamy treat, indeed.

He tore his lips away, and gripping her hair tightly, he spun her about, bending her forcibly over the back of a nearby chair. He fumbled with the zipper on his pants before finally unleashing his uncompassionate cock from its confines and aiming it between her thighs. He planted his feet firmly between hers, spreading her wider for his convenience, before plunging himself inside of her. Her viscous fluids made his entry almost effortless, and he began to pump himself in and out of her with a furious frenzy of need and want.