DISCLAIMER: The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2023 LITTLESALLY666.
AUTHORS NOTES: Vaguely inspired by the 1970s television series by the same name — about the mysterious Mr. Roarke who runs a unique resort island in the Pacific Ocean that can fulfill literally any fantasy requested by guests, but they rarely turn out as expected. I really enjoyed the 2020 film version, directed by Jeff Wadlow — but wished it could have been a lot darker. I also noticed that there is a 2021 television version with its first season released — but I haven’t caught up with that. So my thought was to make Roarke into a female figure. Maybe androgynous? And be more like an evil puppet master drawing the unsuspecting “victims” into her own web of twisted fantasies; that the demonic forces within Island seem to be only too pleased to amplify.
STORY CODES: Supernatural, Religious themes, Transgender, Age-Play/Young, Demonic/Satanic, Abuse, Corruption, Devil Worship, Rape, Snuff, Black Mass, Cannibalism, NC, Sex Demons, Transformation.
THANKS: Special thanks to BG for some great ideas and for checking my awful grammar.
CREATED: 06.05.2022 / REVISITED: 25.08.2023
Phantasy Island 3
Where only your “darkest fantasies” come true
SYNOPSIS OF PHANTASY ISLAND
Imagine a place where all your wildest fantasies could come true — this is the promise of the famed “Phantasy Island”. Now imagine, you’re one of the lucky competition winners that have won the opportunity to be invited to this luxurious, but remote tropical paradise. You will be welcomed by the exotic and enigmatic Dr. Ursula Roarke — an exotic delight that seems to be all-knowing, all-seeing — and like a ringmaster, with the crack of her whip, the fantasy circus begins. What you didn’t know was that there’s a dark side to Phantasy Island. Are you in your fairy tale fantasy or a victim of Dr. Ursula Roarke’s twisted nightmares?
- Dr. Ursula Roarke (appears to be maybe 28, but of an unknown age) — an exotic islander, who is enigmatic, beautiful (and androgynous), the host of Phantasy Island
- Serpent Eyes (60) — the female tribal leader from the fishing village
- Tattoo (35) — an ugly twisted dwarf-like man that is Dr. Ursula Roarke’s assistant
- Hoku (20) — a young hostess (and a demon) on Phantasy Island
- Kai and Loni (8) — twins, islanders (demons in disguise as children)
- Makaio (12) — a young male host (and a demon) on Phantasy Island
- Ahe (16) — a young male porter rather effeminate
- Mikala (15) — a young woman from the fishing village
- Mercedes North (32) — Transvestite that dreams of being herself
- Maddie Haig (23) — Christian, primary school teacher
- Corbin and Kitten Pistis (36/32) — a once religious married couple with issues
- Swami Guru Salil Gupta (52) — an ugly fat India guru who worships the Goddess of Sex and Death
- Sofia Sian (38) — she is a herpetologist (studies snakes)
MAP OF PHANTASY ISLAND
PHANTASY ISLAND – CHAPTER SEVEN (3,109 WORDS)
“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, myths, and dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” John Lennon
It was another perfect day on Phantasy Island. The blue sky was dotted with a few white patches, of an otherwise, unbroken horizon of dazzling azure and sapphire. Diamonds of light reflected across the tips of the rolling waves, as they each broke in succession against the coral reef on the furthermost points of the Southern Anchorage. The golden sand was unmarked by human passage. The graceful tall palm trees swayed in the soft morning sea breeze that lifted the slightly salty moisture from the waves and cooled the air in the most delightful manner.
Of course, to any newcomer visiting Phantasy Island, this immaculate veneer would be found to be most exquisite and charming — a true reflection of a calm paradise for the troubled mind — a sanctuary for the tired and weary. How wrong they would be. How misleading this picture of perfection was. The newcomer would undoubtedly succumb to it, surrender to it … be duped by it.
For it wouldn’t be long before its secret pestilence and sarcoma would rise up from the murky depths of its wicked black cancerous heart to devour all that was innocent … all that was good … all that was peaceful … for Phantasy island was an enigma that promised — a dream come true — but only dreams filled with malignancy, poison, and demonic perverseness.
Was it the blue skies, golden sand, and the sound of the rolling waves that had made Maddie Haig feel so dreamy? Or was it just like a dream come true? Phantasy Island appeared the antithesis of the urban jungle that she had left behind.
A primary school teacher from the inner city — where the sounds of angry people, police sirens, and traffic jams were the polluted canvas of her life — twenty-three-year-old, Maddie Haig sat on the edge of the long wooden peer and let her delicate bare feet dangle into the cooling crystal clear waters of the Southern Anchorage.
Maddie, like the other guests, had arrived only a short while ago in the late morning. It had been a short flight to Phantasy Island. They were all warmly received by the resort hosts. Maddie pretended not to be shocked at the sight of the dwarf among the local beauties. They had all been dressed in pure white outfits, together with flutes of the finest champagne and exotic flower necklaces.
Had she died and gone to heaven? That was her Christian background coming out. She had been a little overwhelmed. She immediately thought of Isaiah 65:17 … “For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind.”
While the other guests mingled together excitedly and gorged themselves on the luxurious platters of seafood, fruits, and cold cuts — Maddie had sneaked away to just enjoy the late morning sunshine. How beautiful it looked.
Behind the colonial buildings of the resort clubhouse was the edge of the jungle. It was certainly a serene and tranquil place — but Maddie also knew that nature was never kind. The jungle was a place of survival of the fittest — eat or be eaten — somewhat like the urban jungle that she had left behind. Life had taught her many things, and teaching had been her life. To influence young minds — that had been her goal. Maddie had been brought up in a staunchly Christian family and always had the fear of God in her heart. But in this place — there seemed to be a different rhythm that she was beginning to tune into.
“Madam, can I serve you a drink?” asked an exotic young boy dressed in a white shirt and long white shorts.
She looked at his pretty bare feet and perfectly bronze skin. He was young and had a handsome Islander face. His teeth were so white. Like a character that had just stepped out of Jungle Book.
“Thank you …” replied Maddie gratefully taking a glass of champagne.
”Makaio … Madam,” said the boy introducing himself, “My name is Makaio. It means … Gift from God.”
“Well thank you Makaio. You certainly are a gift. Please call me Maddie.”
”Yes of course … Madam Maddie.”
Maddie laughed at his over-politeness, but couldn’t help notice the boy’s exotic odor. It wasn’t unpleasant. Quick the opposite. She breathed in deeply.
“Are you all right, Madam Maddie?” asked the boy.
Maddie didn’t answer right away. She seemed a little dreamy. Her pussy felt a warm glow as she began to imagine Makaio undressing before her. As quickly as the picture formed in her mind … she shook her head in denial. What was she thinking? It was ungodly of her to allow such blasphemous thoughts — the fear of God suddenly gripped her.
“Sorry, I … I … need to go to the washroom…” Maddie said hastily and got up.
Mercedes North looked up from her champagne flute. One of the pretty hostesses tried to catch the attention of all the guests who gathered around in the clubhouse with the sound of a chime.
Mercedes had been talking to a charming young woman called Sofia Sian, who had described herself as a herpetologist; someone who studies snakes or bugs or something rather gross. Mercedes couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy looking at the young woman’s feminine confidence. Well, maybe that was because Mercedes wasn’t really a woman.
Just then Mercedes’s thoughts were interrupted.
“Welcome all of you to Phantasy Island. My name is Hoku. Now, please help yourselves with refreshments and our freshly prepared platters. Your, “Mistress-of-Ceremonies,” Dr. Ursula Roarke, will be joining us shortly,” announced a young and rather stunning hostess.
“In her position as the “Maestro of Magic,” the “Good Doctor,” has reviewed each of your individual ‘fantasies’ and will be talking to each of you separately. As the “Overseer,” it is her job to make sure your stay here on Phantasy Island is a pleasant one.
“We’re expecting the finest of weather, but like most tropical islands, we do occasionally see storms at this time of the year. Having said that, I am sure that each and every one of you will find your accommodation to your individual liking. Each of you will have your own private villa — that you’ll find to be secluded and quiet — the perfect place for you to begin your fantasy adventure.”
There was a brief round of applause and Hoku bowed gracefully as she stepped aside for the arrival of Dr. Ursula Roarke, the enigmatic custodian of their island paradise.
“Good morning everyone.” Her accent was unexpectedly British with perfect diction, “Welcome to Phantasy Island. A paradise on earth. Where all your wildest dreams can come true. Let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Ursula Roarke, the custodian of Phantasy Island; and you will all be my honored guests for as long as you are here.”
As Dr.Ursula welcomed all of the guests — they listened to her — they all seemed totally mesmerized by her.
Mercedes found herself staring at the huge phallic bulge in the front of the Doctor’s pants. Didn’t anyone else notice? It looked so obvious. The Doctor was a transsexual? Mercedes looked around at the faces of the other guests and even the staff, none of which seemed to register any reaction to what she could see so obviously. Fuck, she thought. The Doctor had a fucking huge hard-on. A nice fat nine-inch cock poked outwards against the loose fabric of her white uniformed pants. The thin material was pressed forward and was soaked at the tip with precum. For a moment she thought she might be seeing things. Maybe she was a little too drunk on the champagne? May the strangeness of the place play tricks on her mind. It was also unexpectedly arousing. Mercedes clenched both hands to hide the otherwise noticeable bulge in her own pants,
Dr. Ursula’s talk had finished. The crowd had begun talking among themselves again. Mercedes still felt a strange kind of daze.
“Welcome Ms. North,” said Dr. Ursula as she stood right in front of Mercedes, “Thank you for completing your fantasy form.”
”Well, I know it’s all make-believe,” laughed Mercedes glancing down at the paper that the Doctor held in her hand, “But finding one’s true self — can be a lifelong journey?”
“Of course my dear,” replied Dr. Ursula secretively, “But here in this place, you will find your journey has many surprises. Maybe that’s why it’s better to be the best of both worlds?”
Mercedes was completely stunned as the Doctor’s hand stroked the bulge in her loose white pants.
“Don’t worry,” the Doctor laughed, “Only you could see me properly my dear. Only you can see what’s really happening here. And I’m fucking hard as nails … Just dying to fuck some ass!”
“How … how … is that … even possible?” stuttered Mercedes.
“You are on Phantasy Island … anything is possible here.”
The Swami’s Fantasy
The Swami Guru Salil Gupta was a stupidly proud man.
He’d accepted the invitation to Phantasy Island despite the recommendations of all his closest advisers not to. After all … he was a holy man. He was a religious leader — seen as a demigod in his own right — He had no place in some candy-stripped “white people” circus. He was supposed to have shunned luxury and privilege to live a monastic life. But here he was — All two hundred kilos of him — Sweating in the tropical heat and smelling of fish curry. Was he here out of curiosity? Was he on some kind of mission?
“My dear Swami Gupta,” said Dr. Ursula.
“Please … you may call me Gupta … just Gupta,” he said.
“I was surprised that you would accept our invitation, Gupta.”
He was a pompous fat man. Full of himself. Ugly to look at. Ugly in nature.
“Vell, Dr. Ursula, I even surprise m’self,” answered the smarmy guru. His heavy Hindi accent made him difficult to understand, “You know it is all nonsense … Phantasy Island, huh! … Another example of decadent western consumerism packaged especially for your Christian white people who have forgotten their beliefs … but I have accepted your challenge!”
Dr. Ursula smiled at the hideous balding man with his whitish goatee and dark bulbous lips.
“I wasn’t informed of any challenge, dear Gupta?” stated the Doctor.
“Oh … but there is always a challenge, my dear Dr. Ursula … The gods and goddesses speak to us in many strange ways. However, their messages can be difficult to comprehend. Unless one is trained to appreciate their divinity. One must see with our third eye. Listen with our Kundalini spirit. And sense through all our seven chakras.”
“So is the challenge for me to guess at your fantasy … as your form is blank?” asked Dr. Ursula as she held up the empty form.
The Swami laughed and spittle flew out of his mouth.
“Oh, it is blank. Yes, and that would be — because some thoughts should never be expressed explicitly — they should be only vaguely revealed through the blessings of prayers and divine worship of the Mother Goddess. “
”Is this the same Goddess that demands virgin blood sacrifices?” inquired the Doctor.
“Ah, how a little bit of knowledge can be dangerous … let’s say that my humble wish if you must call it that …” He licked his fat crimson lips and smirked, “… is that one day she bestows upon me the wisdom and power to answer her calling …”
“With more sex and violence?” Asked the Doctor.
The swami laughed, “Just a humble wish … Dr. Ursula … A humble wish …”
Corbin & Kitty’s Fantasy
Corbin Pistis wasn’t very happy — but that wasn’t unusual — he was a very small and bitter man. Deeply religious, he was always quoting scripture and praying every day.
His wife, Kitten or “Kitty” (as he called her) hadn’t stopped drinking champagne since they had arrived on Phantasy Island. He hated it when she misbehaved and was not respectful of the Word of God.
“Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery … Ephesians 5:18.” He muttered.
Married for over ten years, Corbin at thirty-six, was four years Kitty’s senior. Hailing from the Bible Belt, the couple had been part of a deeply religious community, in the Midwest. Their immediate family would go to church services at least three times a week.
All seemed agreeable on the surface until one day Corbin discovered Kitty’s dirty secret life and her obsession with sadomasochism. It seemed that during their entire marriage, she had been living a double life. Participating in church life and the community — at the same time — an online life shared with other sexual deviants.
Confronting his wife about this, had led to only more resentment and trouble, as she was determined not to let go and rebelled against his zealous interference in her sexual preferences. In his eyes, she was a whoring Jezebel.
Where did it come from? Had his wife been corrupted by the devil?
It had all started with simple boredom and curiosity.
As a couple, their sex life was almost non-existence. Kitty was an attractive female with urges. And though these urges started off as a distraction; she became obsessed with frequent masturbation; fueled by pornography; her thoughts were only of the most unholy of things.
Online, she discovered a whole new world of perverted sexuality. She met both men and women who enjoyed all manner of strange sexual fetishes — pissing, scat, bondage, orgies, sodomy, transvestism, cuckold, BDSM, even blasphemy and religious fetishes involving nuns and priests — and those who enjoyed domination and inflicting pain … be it consensual and non-consensual.
Kitty found her darkest of passions and delights in hurting others (especially the young and helpless). Pornography became her life. She loved the “Satanic Sickies” from the seventies and longed to see a real “snuff” film.
In a progressive frequency, she would fake headaches, so that Corbin would attend church meetings (long into the night) without her. She was always so apologetic — and while the cat was away, the mice did place — as she masturbated to the most extreme porn she could find.
The irony was that shortly after Corbin discovered her heinous sexual perversions — Kitty had been stricken down with a mysterious illness — it left her crippled and permanently wheelchair-bound; without any feeling from the waist downwards. Kitty became very bitter, frustrated, and even more twisted than she’d been before her blithe.
That was all two years ago. And without the use of her legs — her muscles had deteriorated significantly — she was a shadow of her former self. Embarrassed by her deformity, she always kept her legs covered in a heavy blanket.
Of course, Corbin saw everything differently. To him and his religiosity — this was retribution against his adulteress wife and her devil-inspired ways — her days of sin, evil, wickedness and fornication were now long over. And it was their Abrahamic God had played an important part in restoring them to their faith. It had been a difficult time for both of them.
For him, he found it in his Christian heart to forgive her. Corbin would help her see the light and return to the fold.
For her, she was effectively a prisoner. Maybe Phantasy Island was more impartial to Godliness.
The afternoon sun was a bright ball of fire.
Kitty had been drinking — she wanted to toast this and that — but Corbin wanted her to stop. The champagne had lubricated her thoughts loosened her lips (dangerously) and dulled the pain of her frustrations.
Corbin’s baritone voice was sobering. He was always such a killjoy. She hated him most of the time. Boring fuck. To think that they had been given the opportunity to come to this place, Phantasy Island — and he had almost said “no” — the only reason that he had relented was that she’d made up some bullshit about it, “Being a gift from God Almighty” … and that, “It would help save their marriage” … and that she, “Saw the light of their faith”. All lies. But it had worked.
Now Kitty was more than tipsy and dribbling a little as her damaged body slouched in her wheelchair.
“Hey, can … can … I get another?” asked Kitty holding up her empty glass in salute to a passing hostess.
Her shaky hand waved the long stem flute in the air. The pretty hostess, Hoku, smiled at her. She smiled back — though her eyes seemed to focus more on the hostess’s perky breasts. Hoku took the glass from Kitty’s inadequate grip before she dropped it.
“Oops! Sorry …”
“The same again, Madam?” Hoku asked sweetly as she matched Kitty’s rather inappropriate stare.
“Hey,” interrupted Corbin, “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Oh, Corbin … please … one more?”
“No. I think you’ve already had too many. It’s getting late. We should go to our villa for evening prayers. There’s a boy that is supposed to be helping us with the wheelchair, right?”
“Oh yes Sir,” responded the pretty hostess, “His name is Ahe. Let me check on where he is right now.”
“So … so … ” Kitty said, returning her lusty gaze and addressing the sexy hostess, “This is the place where fantasies are supposed to come true?”
Corbin laughed, “It’s just a gimmick my dearest,” he interjected, “All gifts come from God Almighty … ‘For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable’ … Romans 11:29.”
“From my experience, Sir, there’s no gimmick here,” responded the hostess respectfully, “On Phantasy Island … anything is possible,” she assured.
“Anything?!” Kitten half laughed, half spat champagne.
Corbin looked at the hostess with spite. How dare she. Another non-believer, getting his gullible wife’s hopes up unnecessarily. He wasn’t sure what Kitty was thinking, but he knew what she needed. He momentarily thought back to the days before Kitty’s punishment and how he’d caught her red-handed with her online dominatrix activities — she had been a dirty vile sinner — but now with the “Grace of God”, she would learn to be the loving wife and respectful woman that he deserved. God willing. And the wheelchair and her illness were a sign from God. With His all-seeing eye, she’d angered Him. And now she had to suffer her lot. Phantasy Island was just a commercial fake. But he would let her have her small dreams — God was their guiding light and maybe the rest, quiet reflection of this tropical island would help calm her irritable ways … accepting God’s punishment was the path to enlightenment and to righteousness.
PHANTASY ISLAND – CHAPTER EIGHT (5,677 WORDS)
“Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time …” Ransom Riggs
The newest arrivals had already been checked in. The Phantasy Island seaplane was long gone. Their bags were already transferred to the luxurious private villas. It was time for pure indulgence. Eating fine foods and drinking the finest of champagnes that the cellars at Phantasy Island had to offer. The guests talked among themselves and flirted with the pretty boys and girls who eagerly served them.
The lull of the day had their naive mind numbed. Even the most curious of them were now totally relaxed — any edge was long gone — as an undetectable ingredient in the champagne began to take full effect. The strongly aphrodisiac qualities gave them hot flushes.
Guests found themselves inexplicably excited, their libidos enhanced, their sensual feelings amplified. Gullible minds were now open to suggestions. More malleable to the whispers of sexual promiscuity. Penises stiffened. Vaginas moistened. The Island’s secret agenda had already been awakened.
Dr. Ursula gathers her thoughts …
Dr. Ursula Roarke watched the small gathering of animated guests from a distance. Like bees around a honey pot. Soon they would be all fucking and sucking and dancing to her perverted beat.
The beginning was always such a delicate time.
She was already wet between the legs considering the perverted possibilities and already was contemplating the more predictable outcomes. Hoku looked over at her. It was just a brief glance, but Ursula already knew she was horny too. The hostess loved face-fucking hot women with her heavily tattooed cunt. It was the hunger that kept them going. Time after time after time. She’d lost count of how many souls she had collected to appease the demons of Phantasy Island. Lost in lust. How many of their guests she had corrupted?
Sinning, blasphemy, perversion, abuse, rape, torture, murder, castration, abortion — venereal acts performed every day for the glory of evil that hid around every corner, in every nook and cranny, that seeped from the rocks, trees, water, and the very earth of Phantasy Island. Taking their unsuspecting guest down that crooked path that leads to their individual dark salvation or private hell. Some of those souls remained here on Phantasy Island (some staying of their own accord …some without any choice). Some return to their own world — but see their world with different eyes.
Dr. Ursula remembered a certain priest. His name was Father Tristan. He had arrived as an enigmatic man of dubious faith. Looking to save the poor tribal people with the blessings of his Abrahamic God. How she had turned that around. Hoku had asked about him as he was one of the many who never returned home. He never left the shores of Phantasy Island. Dr. Ursula had worked her wicked hand … guiding him (maybe even pushing him) towards his eventual climactic fall or to his demonic rise … as he came face-to-face with the true nature of his real fantasy … so much for salvation … it had been one of profane perversity and of devil worship.
In the heart of the volcano, he danced carnally to the rape drums of the cannibal god. And together with the androgynous black-skinned natives — that painted themselves with white skeleton bones — he had partaken in their homosexual orgies and feasted upon flesh for days and nights. She had been there with him. But he only saw her as one of them (taking a shemale form with donned mask and horns). The Doctor had joined in with their violent rape ritual, and human sacrifices to the devil, and gorged herself at their cannibal feast.
How time had passed.
She looked like she was still in her late twenties, yet she remembered a time before mobile phones, before the invention of the internet, a time when there were no computers … even before there were facsimiles and telex. Did people still use these things? There was no use for any of these here on Phantasy Island.
She remembered the day she arrived as if it was just yesterday.
The blue skies. The warm, wet breeze. The crystal clear waters. The shimmering light. How beautiful it all had appeared. Like the others, she too had once been a guest on the Island. Though back then it had not been called Phantasy Island — that was her idea. She too had come, searching for something. But it had been the “something” that of course eventually found her instead.
Her post-doctorate had required a deeper level of research into the philosophy and religion of the Pacific Islands — it all sounded so sanitized and proper — but of course, the university would not have funded her personal interests and delved into a study of sex magic. For as long as she could remember, she’d been fascinated by evil dark things … tarot, spells, sorcery, occult, witchcraft, voodoo and sex cults … the same evil dark things that she masturbated to … with church candles, the host, crucifixes, religious objects … and her favorite was a phallus carved from the human thigh bone of a child slain in a black mass ritual … “It’s” evilness was its lure … she’d cum countless times, imagining such a perverse ritual, and only wished that she could have witnessed it herself.
Unlike the other unsuspecting guests … she had seen past the pretense of charm and allure … something was very wrong about this place. She’d sensed “It” — whatever “It” was — and “It” called to her. She was drawn to “Its” shadowy depths.
And “it” offered her a choice.
She could have returned and completed her post-doctorate studies. And how different her “life” would have been. But, she had no shadow of doubt in her mind. Whatever her decision, she vowed never to regret it. She intuitively knew this was a one-way ticket and that there would be no going back. So, with her mind made up to remain on the enchanted Island — be it enchanted or possessed — she welcomed “It” with open arms (and legs) — an evil that seemed to multiply or magnify. Letting go of everything else — she knew she would find her most darkest and twisted nightmares.
Had it been a difficult decision? No. She wanted to be part of it … and the Island gave her a new purpose. A new reason for being. And the island promised her life eternal … she would never grow old … she would never be deprived of anything … anything, no matter how wicked, would be hers … she would be the Island’s conductor, the orchestrator, the ring mistress of it all.
Looking back — she realized that at first, she had been somewhat timid about it — unsure about things (how far to go) … but over the weeks, months, years, and then decades … with every experiment (every fantasy she unfolded) her own evil lust had amplified.
Her body. Her mind. Her imagination — they were the instruments that she played so delightfully — the Island, her Phantasy Island — was a playground of devilment. Sin. Deceit. Villainy. Duplicity. Vice. Corruption. Perverseness. Depravity. Debauchery. Vileness. Vulgarity. Wickedness … And there were those souls, that she’d met along the way … some who’d willingly given themselves to her and the Island — as they too worshiped evil — and sort their own deal with the devil … and there were those victims that became its prisoners … abused, tortured, maimed, murdered … they had found Hell, as others used them to fulfill their most wickedest of fantasies.
Corbin & Kitty’s Fantasy
Kitty had had that dream many times. A dream where she was able to walk again. A dream where she could get up out of her chair and escape from Corbin, and his family and could rid herself once and for all of her pain and suffering.
How she desperately wished she could have had a different life. One where she could have pursued a fantasy of domination. To wear fetish clothing. To masturbate all day long at the suffering of very young boys and girls. They were such tantalizing and delicious thoughts. How she would have loved to hear the sound of the whip; the look of broken bloody skin; the screaming of her imaginary victims — be they willing or unwilling.
But it was always just a dream and upon awakening, she’d find herself, the same useless cripple with no feeling from the waist down; under the constant watchful eye and control of her Bible-bashing husband — she wanted to get out of this fucking life — and out of this wheelchair.
She looked enviously at the sexy little hostess. Fucking little bitch, she thought. Kitty would have loved to have fucked her with a ten-inch strap-on; or forced her mouth to eat her ass out while she defecated … such wickedness crossed her imprisoned mind.
“Madam Kitty,” said the young hostess, “I do believe that Dr. Ursula has already reviewed your desires.”
Dreams. Desires. Wishful thinking. Kitty quelled her frustrations momentarily. It wasn’t the hostess’ fault. It was her own. She’d brought this upon herself. Corbin was right. He was always right. She should forget getting her hopes up for some kind of miracle. It wasn’t going to happen.
Kitty nodded to herself, but still, the bitterness showed.
“It’s been a long day. Sorry, I am just a little tired from it all. My apologies if I was anything but cordial before … as my husband said, maybe I have had just a little too much to drink.”
Corbin patted her on the shoulders. He liked this conciliatory mood. He would pray for her.
“Kitty … I know this is Phantasy Island …” mumbled Corbin, “But it’s just a commercial gimmick. Don’t get upset … okay? Let’s get you to the villa. It’s time for evening prayers … we should do the Serenity Prayer?”
“Yes, Corbin. You know best.”
Their villa was secluded and private. Corbin and Kitty found their accommodation was more than adequate, with ramps provided for Kitty’s wheelchair. The shiny black decor had some subtle hints of BDSM in its styling. Many of the walls were mirrored surfaces and the vertical beams had decorative hooks that could be used for chaining up a person (should one think in those terms). There was a locked door to one side of the villa — that the couple imagined led to a connecting villa (as resorts sometimes did). There was nothing too extreme about it all, but there were elements that didn’t go unnoticed by Kitty’s sharp eyes.
The night was still young and Corbin knelt next to Kitty, as she sat in her wheelchair.
“God, grant us the serenity,” they bowed their heads and prayed together, “To accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and wisdom to know the difference. Amen.”
A young male porter, named Ahe, had been tasked to accompany the couple back to their private villa. Ahe assisted the couple, pushing Kitty’s wheelchair and attending to her. Freed from his usual responsibilities, Corbin began to relax and enjoy the freedom that the Island seemed to exude.
“I think I will have a quick shower. Ahe and I will help you later?”
“Sure,” answered Kitty.
Kitty couldn’t help but notice the sixteen-year-old boy’s rather effeminate mannerisms. It crossed her mind that Ahe was the perfect victim, and in different circumstances, she could imagine all kinds of wickedness to inflict upon the unsuspecting boy. A certain practiced choke-hold she knew and the boy would be rendered unconscious.
With Corbin otherwise occupied, Kitty asked Ahe what his name meant.
“It means “gentle” in our local language,” he answered.
“Can you show me how to use the big screen television, Ahe?” she asked, using his name with an affectionate tone. She wanted them to become familiar with each other — especially, if he was to help her in the shower.
There had been a wide selection of DVDs available in their private villa — but Kitty’s eyes had focused on a number of particular dubious titles that she’d seen before online and knew contained pornography of a graphically violent sexual nature — they were definitely her kind of entertainment — but she was at a loss to explain why they would be here? Phantasy Island. She almost laughed out loud at the preposterous thought.
Thoughts raced through her mind. Thoughts that she’d left behind — returned with vengeance. The desire to overcome the young boy and raping him there and then. How’d she imagined a similar scenario just like this? She would overcome the boy; tie him up, beat him, and object-rape him. Forced sex. Ritual abuse. But that was all twisted ideas from before Kitty’s illness. She lived in a different world now. But still, Kitty let the “movie “ play out in her mind.
Just at that moment, there was a loud knock on their villa door. Reluctantly Kitty returned to reality.
“Can you answer the door please,” she asked Ahe.
He nodded and opened the front door. By this time Corbin has returned dressed only in a wet towel.
“Evening Kitty …”
It was Dr. Ursula standing in the doorway with her clipboard,
“Evening Dr. Ursula … we didn’t expect to see you tonight?” said Kitty.
“… Yes. Yes. And my sincerest apologies. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. My rounds took a little longer than I would have liked. I trust that you have both been well looked after. How is the villa? How is Ahe? May I come in for a moment?”
Just then Corbin appeared in a wet towel, unaware, that they had a guest.
“Oh, it’s you Dr. Ursula … forgive my appearance … just, you know, stepped out of the shower … I must say that the villa is superb …. and Ahe has made us both welcome,” responded Corbin.
Dr. Ursula entered and looked around.
“I’m glad everything meets with your approval.”
The Swami’s Fantasy
“I hope that your accommodation is to your satisfaction?” asked Dr. Ursula.
She had taken the trouble to escort the ugly Swami to his seduced villa.
The Swami’s expression hinted at his surprise and bewilderment. The villa was most luxurious but styled with the trappings of the Indian Kama Sutra or Principles of Lust — the Sanskrit lettering was accompanied by brightly inked Indian illustration of erotica.
“Pataka!” explained the Swami as he stood on the spot and turned three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, “It is most decadent … it almost rivals your disgusting Western society … and the misplaced use of my culture’s devotion to the vulgarities of lust is most provocative.”
An insult or a compliment? Dr. Ursula wasn’t sure. But, actually didn’t care.
The Swami sat down on the plush white leather couch, his hand caressing the smooth soft surface, as he looked thoughtfully at the images of his culture’s dedication to the art of sensual pleasure. His arms stretched out along the couch back — the Swami looked relaxed. Dr. Ursula sat down opposite him.
“What you white people do not realize is that our ‘art’ is not dedicated to the profane or the perverted, but symbolizes a greater value we place upon our spiritualism of life,” corrected the Swami.
“So I take it that you would prefer something more modest, Gupta?” asked Dr. Ursula.
The ugly Swami laughed and rubbed his thin white-bearded chin, “No. While I am here at your leisure … I will live as you white-people live … indulge in your white-people decadence …”
“Tell me more about your Goddess … and your cult dedicated to the worship of Ma Kali …” asked Dr. Ursula as she pointed the centerpiece of the villa — a huge painting of a naked blue-black demon dancing upon the prone body of a man with an erection — the mystical figure was portrayed with a garland of skulls; voluptuous breasts with pierced nipples; ten arms that each carried weapons (bar one that held the cleaved head of a man by his hair). The demon wore a skirt of severed arms … and protruding out from between was endowed with an enormous black cock that curved upwards towards her bejeweled belly.
“Ahhhh … my goodness … The great Ma Kali …” expressed Swami Gupta, “Ma Kali … she is the most misunderstood of all Hindu Goddesses. Though she is often regarded as the most powerful. Her dark and fierce form is certainly intimidating wouldn’t you say? … Unless one is willing to look with discernment behind the veil of evil sensationalism — she is the Supreme Mother of the Universe — an avatar for our most ancient of spiritual heritages; unifying the yoni and linga … most sensually provocative? And as she dances naked upon the prostrated corpse-like body of her royal consort, Siva — even in death, his linga becomes erect in salute to the great power of her sacred androgyny.”
“You speak of her … with great reverence?” noted the Doctor.
“Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Kali!” cried the Swami, “Yes. Yes, I believe she represents untamed power. Capable of distraction and creation, all in the same moment. Seeing her stirs the duality of the mind and the urges of the body … she makes one sexually excited … I cannot look upon her without becoming erect myself … believe what you will, but as I see it — worship her or suffer her wrath … “
Dr. Ursula couldn’t help but notice the aching bulge in the front of the Swami’s loose gown. He smirked and lightly stroked himself offensively through the fabric … his eyes never left hers … as if his actions intended to shock her.
But, of course, he was most mistaken … nothing could shock Dr. Ursula.
”What would be her calling, Gupta?” asked Dr. Ursula as she watched the ugly Swami, as he tried to make her feel uncomfortable.
“That’s one of her great mysteries. A demand, all of itself … a calling for sacrifice maybe, Dr. Ursula?”
The Swami awoke in the semi-darkness.
Even though he’d slept naked without the use of any bed sheets, the villa seemed uncomfortably warm. His hairy obese body sweated terribly and the odors of his fetid oily secretions filled the still air. His cock was extremely hard and throbbed from his abstinence from masturbatory climax.
The tinkling sound of the Indian tabla teased his curiosity as he blinked into the furtive shadows.
Sitting upright against the hard carved wooden headboard, he stared ahead. In front of his bed was the foreboding image of his beloved Ma Kali. What was it about this painting? Her eyes seemed to glow in the dark — as if alive — they stared down at him disapprovingly.
He remembered his last words to the Doctor … “Worship her or suffer her wrath” … and then he laughed at himself. How could he be fooled by such a cheap parlor trick? It was the mischief of that bitch, the British Doctor, and her damnable British ascent — She was obviously playing mind games with him — It was simply white people’s tomfoolery. He was a guru. She had no idea who she was dealing with.
He reached over to the bedside lamp to switch on the lights — but nothing happened — the lights stayed off.
“What cheap tricky is this white trash!” Cried the angry Swami, “You think you can scare me?” laughed Gupta, “The Goddess protect me! I am Hers. You can’t fool me with your ridiculous Hollywood camera tricks.”
“Meree pooja; karo ya mere krodh ko bhugato (Worship me; or suffer my wrath) …” the angry voice came from thin air.
“Aap jaanate hain main kaun hoon (You know who I am),” said the disembodied voice, which was more of a snarl than anything human.
”Ma … Ma Kali,” mumbled the nervous Swami in complete disbelief.
”Aur tumhen mere saamane ghutane tekane chaahie! Ghutane Gupta … agar aap mere chune hue hain? (And you should kneel before me! Kneel Gupta … if you are my chosen one?)”
His body seemed to move of its own accord and he found himself kneeling at the edge of the bed, directly in front of the looming image of Ma Kali. The Swami’s cock had begun to leak with precum. And his fist was already closed tightly around his cock shaft — stroking himself to the increasing pace of Tabla — vibrations of incredible pleasure surged through him as he bend his head in Tantric masturbation prayer …
“Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Kali!” prayed the Swami.
Sofia Sian was a thirty-eight-year-old herpetologist (the study of reptiles and amphibians). She had been working for one of the most prestigious museum faculties and had a PhD in zoology, specializing in the study of snakes.
Though herpetology research had been a life of academic research and books — she had longed for something more hands-on — to have the experience and opportunity to pursue her intellectual prowess in the jungle wilds. To say that she was obsessed, would be an understatement. Her quest was to find proof of the “Nachash”.
The Nachash, a Hebrew word, was simply known in the Bible as The Serpent and was considered to be one of Satan’s earliest incarnations and the one by which he successfully tempted Adam and Eve.
Where science, history, and religion intersected — It intrigued her — there was a passage in 2 Corinthians 11.3 that said, “But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ.” — It was an ancient puzzle to be explored, examined and to be solved.
Could Phantasy Island hold the key to unlocking such a crazy idea — to somehow prove the existence of God, but finding his adversary? Blasphemous? No, Sofia saw this as an adventure — like Indiana Jones or Lara Croft. She imagined herself finding a lost city and uncovering a biblical truth.
“Dr. Ursula, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you … and about Phantasy Island. I feel so lucky to have won the opportunity to be here,” said the excited zoologist.
“Well Sofia, I am excited by your fantasy,” replied Dr. Ursula, “You have certainly come to the right place for a jungle adventure — to fulfill your dream of discovery. Tell me, my dear, what exactly is a Nachash?”
“Oh, that’s an age-old question to be solved. It is a legend. A biblical myth.”
“And yet you seen so sure of your success?”
“Dr. Ursula,” said Sofia, “I have lived most of my life in books, in theories, in intellectual pursuits … I guess my fantasy is about seeing things differently … I have no delusions of grandeur … just a thirst for adventure.”
“Well, fantasy and reality have a way of sometimes becoming intermingled. Don’t you think?” the Doctor smiled at the younger woman, “I know that in the Northernmost part of our Island, where we do not go, there have been sightings.”
“Yes, sightings … by a few of the women-folk that live in the native fishing villages … they make some wild claims … saying they have seen strange things in the ruins of what could be a lost city … strangely enough … the northern natives call it “Nahesa” which is their word for “serpent” … coincidence? Nahesa and Nachash maybe? Now it is all conjecture. Something about a serpent-like demon? Of course, there’s no solid proof at all — And sometimes these women have been known to smoke a lot of pakalolo — that can cause them to have terrible hallucinations.”
“Real or not, that’s really interesting. I mean this place “Nahesa” … maybe I could take a boat around the Island and explore in the vicinity that these fishermen claim they made their discovery?”
” Well, I have spoken to Tattoo and he is the best guide we have. I have arranged for him to take you there tomorrow. You will be provided with some local support and supplies — as you may need to camp overnight or even longer — as the “Dark Jungle”, as we call it, is very dense and uninhabited.”
They had been traveling up the western coast, around the Western Point. Tattoo, her guide had not said much. The dwarf man who stood no taller than her chest, was obviously a man of few words. His small motorized boat purred as they traveled easily across the smooth waters until Tattoo pointed to a distant settlement of thatched huts on long wooden stilts that had been built on the edge of the Mangrove Swamp, at the sea’s edge. This was where their boat ride would end at the small fishing village, just south of North Island. It was a pretty place. North Island was clearly visible from the shoreline with its towering peak of granite mountain. It was also inhabited, but from a distance looked beautifully untouched.
The young local Pacific islanders dressed minimally. They appeared strong from the work of fishing, their preteen and teenage bodies looked toned and slightly muscular. No need for a gym workout, Sofia thought to herself. Most, if not all, of the young girls wore nothing to cover their shapely budding breasts. So much golden brown flesh on display, and deliciously pointed nipples. It surprised her, how quickly these new Sapphic feelings, had made Sofia quite wet. Yes, she’d always welcomed the attention of a man’s penis, but now she seemed far more interested in the taste of a young girl’s cunt … all part of the adventure (she told herself).
Sofia had been excited about the potential of discovering the lost city, but couldn’t help but find the young girls of the small fishing community an interesting distraction. She asked Tattoo where were all men from the village and he said that they would be out on their outrigger canoes, or Wa’a as they called them, but would be back in a few days with their catch. He told her that he’d made arrangements with the tribes’ women to escort her inland to the last known sighting of the mysterious lost city, as he had other duties back at the resort.
He mentioned that Sofia may find the villagers interesting. Their belief in some serpent demon called “Nahesa” that was always luring around, meant that they all practiced some crazy rituals … but that Sofia had nothing to fear from them … in fact, he’d told them to expect her and to treat her royally.
Sofia had laughed at the thought. But the whole conversation about “Nahesa” and serpents and rituals had her very excited. Could there be a connection? Nahesa and Nachash … was this all put together for her? A fantasy story acted out? She laughed at herself. At her own skepticism. It was, after all, Phantasy Island. She told herself, just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Maddie wasn’t really comfortable with the way she felt. She felt a deeply rooted guilt about the way the young boy, Makaio, had made her feel. After all, he was only a minor. A child of only twelve years old. Hell, he could have been one of her students back home.
She’d undressed him with her eyes. Why? She’d thought about touching his young tanned flesh. How did that happen? She’d thought about his young cock and perfect little nipples. Was she going crazy? Her mind had filled with inappropriate fantasies about other sexy young things. Yes, in her most secret of places, she had to admit to herself that intimate thoughts of her young students had entered her mind. How could she even consider having sex with these innocent young boys and girls? It wasn’t permitted. In fact, it was evil. It was pedophilia. What kind of monster was she to have such carnal thoughts?
She was conflicted with thoughts of Makaio — but, it was as if he’d encouraged her. There was something in the way he’d introduced himself. Was it her imagination or had he been coming onto her? What had gotten into her? She’d heard it said that most pedophiles thought their victims “wanted it” — that in some way it had been a mutual attraction … but that was kind of the way she felt about it too. She thought of 1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
She thought of retiring to the privacy of her own room. There, she could pray for His forgiveness for her malicious thoughts.
Just as she was about to leave, a pretty hostess appeared.
“There you are,” announced young Hoku, “My godson, Makaio, was looking for you,” the hostess remarked in her soft Islander accent that was so disarming.
That Maddie felt even worse.
“Oh, did I say something wrong?” asked Hoku.
“No. Not at all. It’s me. I’m just a little overwhelmed,” Maddie lied.
She needed to sit down. Her pussy was still throbbing. Her head was a little dizzy.
“Makaio was going to show you to your private villa. But you disappeared?” asked Hoku as she stepped forward to hold Maddie’s arm to support her, “He called me because he was worried about you.”
Hoku’s godson, Makaio, had been worried about her … she felt so guilty and ashamed of her perverted sexual thoughts.
“I’m a little tipsy, too much champagne …” she answered, which wasn’t a lie.
“Let me help you. Your villa isn’t far. I told Makaio to make sure everything was perfect for you.”
”Thank you, my dear. There’s really no need.”
”Yes there is. I insist. You’re our special guest and we must make sure everything you want is provided.”
A wicked thought crossed her mind. Not everything? Surely? She wanted to fuck the girl’s godson. As quickly as she thought it, she dismissed it. Again the guilt of such unnatural desires hit her. Prayer — Yes she needed prayer.
Hoku helped her tenderly. Maddie felt the hostess’s hands on her body. She couldn’t remember how she made it to her private villa. But there she was. The hostess was helping her undress. She’d never been naked in front of anyone before. Why was she being undressed? It didn’t make sense. She needed to pray.
Makaio was there too. He was completely naked too. He lay across her bed. His penis was fully erect. The hostess smiled evilly at her … emboldening her inappropriate thoughts about the naked boy on her bed.
“Everything you want.”
The voice of the hostess echoed in her mind.
“Everything … You … Want …”
What was her name? Hoku? Her voice seemed to vibrate. An echoing effect in Maddie’s head that was irresistible — like a command.
“But … but, I don’t understand?”
“He wants to please you. My godson wants to please you.”
The young naked boy got up from the bed and came over to her. His expression was malicious. He grinned ear to ear. She looked down at his erect penis. It looked so large for a young twelve-year-old boy. His body was still very immature and he had no pubic hair. But his cock looked so hard and stiff. The thick shaft was dark-skinned. His foreskin was rolled back, exposing its shiny wet tip. His cock throbbed as she looked at it hungrily …
Wet and dripping … Inviting … Delicious … Mouth-watering …
He stood in immediately front of her, leaned forward, and kissed her mouth. She felt his small firm tongue press between her teeth. His small childish hands gripped Maddie’s waist as his godmother stood immediately behind her.
Maddie felt the hostess caressing her sensitive neckline; as if urging her to kiss him harder … Yes, kiss deeper. Use more tongue. Fuck his mouth … Maddie broke their kissed and turned around in her dreamlike state to see that the hostess was also naked. Her entire body was golden brown. Her breasts were small but very firm — each coned with a dark brown nipple at its peak. Maddie glanced down and noticed that she also had no public hair. But there, between her thin thighs, was a horribly obscene tattoo — inked into her skin was the face of the devil.
Oh God, what is happening to me, she thought. She needed desperately to pray.
“Why don’t we all lay down? It will be more comfortable,” suggested the hostess — her fingers played with the devil’s mouth.
Maddie’s first thought was to flee. But Maddie also wanted to stay.
“Rub my cock,” ordered the boy.
He took Maddie’s limp wrist and placed her fingertips on the length of his thick adult-sized cock. It looked even bigger, harder, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to ride such a big cock.
“Please … no …” Maddie said meekly, “… I need to pray. I need …”
Hoku pressed down Maddie by the shoulders so that she was now on her knees before the young, well-endowed boy.
”And pray you will,’ said the hostess as she steered Makaio’s dripping cock head into Maddie’s mouth.
Maddie’s mouth opened of its own accord and was instantly rewarded with the boy’s sweet young meat. Her lips closed around his delicious cock head and sucked eagerly — instinct seemed to take over — as she began to vigorously rub his shaft with one hand and cradled his balls with the other. Maddie sucked as hard as she could upon his obscenely fat offering.
”Aaaagghhhhh …” groaned the boy obscenely.
What was she doing? She shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right. Yet her juicy cunt was on fire. Vaginal fluids flowed down the inside of her thighs as she knelt naked before the twelve-year-old. She felt a burning lust that she’d never experienced before. A lustful hunger — that demanded her to make the boy cum in her willing mouth. To taste his young semen. To have it shoot into the back of her throat.
Her eyes looked up momentarily. She saw the young boy, Makaio, and the hostess, Hoku. They began kissing each other. She saw their tongues intertwining as they ate each other’s faces. Godmother and godson. What “god” did they worship?
Noticing Maddie’s watchful gaze, Hoku broke off their incestuous kiss and smiled down at Maddie.
“Are you ready to pray to your new god?” she asked. Maddie could only nod as her mouth was filled with the boy’s rock-hard phallus. “The new god … the god of pervert sex … the god of pedo love … the god of incest … we call him … Satan!”
PHANTASY ISLAND – CHAPTER NINE (3,355 WORDS)
“You learned to run from what you feel, and that’s why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control …” Megan Chance
Mercedes awoke in the darkest of her villa or at least she assumed it was her villa.
She couldn’t remember the order or sequence of what had transpired. Her mind tried to fill in the blanks. Her body ached from the feeling of rough sex. Very rough sex. What a wild ride, she thought to herself — it must have been a realistic dream — because there was no way it could have really happened.
She’d been listening to the hostess, a small-framed islander woman in her twenties. A very pretty little woman. The hostess had been welcoming all the guests to Phantasy Island. Mercedes had thought it was a speech that the girl would have made regularly — but somehow, it didn’t come across as fake in any way. Some propaganda about the history of Phantasy Island being a place of piracy on the high seas, hidden treasure, lost cities, even cannibal tribes, and volcano gods with a vague reference to the original 1719 novel “Robinson Crusoe” by Daniel Defoe.
The hostess then introduced the enigmatic Dr. Ursula Roarke. She remembered this woman distinctly. She was standing so perfectly straight. There was something very powerful about her. A bold woman who talked with a strong accent — an old colonial British accent — so polished and posh.
Then Mercedes remembered noticing the wet tenting of the woman’s garment. Yes. It was standing out, almost at right angles. A shape that Mercedes knew could only be a cock. A hard throbbing cock, that was looking for a mouth. Looking for some ass. A dirty tranny cock that wanted to fuck someone hard and fast. Bizarre?
She vaguely was aware that nobody else had noticed this. The other guests just stood there, listening to this woman, as if they couldn’t see what she could see. But how was that even possible? It was so obvious — they had to see it? Right? Mercedes looked from face to face without seeing any reaction. The talk concluded. But the feeling never stopped. It was as if the Doctor wanted her to see her excited state. As if, nothing else mattered — a filthy lust filled Mercedes’s mind.
“Welcome Ms. North,” said Dr. Ursula as she stood right in front of Mercedes, “Thank you for completing your fantasy form.”
”Well, I know it’s all make-believe,” laughed Mercedes glancing down at the paper that the Doctor held in her hand, “But finding one’s true self — can be a lifelong journey?”
“Of course my dear,” replied Dr. Ursula secretively, “But here in this place, you will find your journey has many surprises. Maybe that’s why it’s better to be the best of both worlds?”
The best of both worlds. She watched this raunchy diva masturbate herself through her white pants in front of her. In front of all her fucking guests.
“Don’t worry,” the Doctor laughed confidently, “I made it so that only you could see me properly … what is really happening here … I’m fucking hard as nails and dying for a good ass to fuck.”
Mercedes stood dumbfounded. The language. The open offer of lust. How could it be? Phantasy Island, in her mind, was a gimmick, a get-away, a clever marketing ploy. Magic was not real. It was all tricks and illusions. But there she was standing right in front of Dr. Ursula Roarke, the overseer of this magnificent charade, as she blatantly masturbated herself in front of everyone. The completely bizarre thing was — that nobody reacted — nobody saw, what she saw.
“Walk with me,” invited the Doctor, “Join me in my private Hall upstairs.”
Mercedes moved as if in a dream, as she blindly followed the infamous Doctor away from the other guests … leaving the reception party behind.
“I don’t understand?” Mercedes said following her up the steep spiral staircase that lead into darkness.
“What is there to understand, my dear Mercedes?” asked the Doctor, “You think it strange that the rules of nature are different here in Phantasy Island? That, I could masturbate openly in front of everyone and they only saw what I wanted them to see?”
“Yes,” answered Mercedes, “… Not that I am complaining.”
“Excellent then … And we are here.”
The Doctor opened the double doors to The Hall … her private abode.
”One needs a space where one can be yourself. Don’t you think?”
Yes, Mercedes definitely remembered leaving the reception — she had been invited by Dr. Ursula to join her upstairs in the Doctor’s private abode — a place where the Doctor had said that she could be herself.
The large double doors closed behind her. In what seemed like an instant, time moved forward rapidly — she couldn’t remember the part in between — but Mercedes found that she was not alone with the Doctor.
No. The scene before her was one of a masquerade rave — of horned devil masks, whips, wet leather, shiny black micro-fiber, and black lace — and all of sudden, she found that she was surrounded by the sounds of a sodomite party. The thumping beat. The flashing lights.
The walls themselves seemed to come alive; burnished with huge pornographic images — like one huge moving collage of perverseness — sex-wet long hair, running mascara, smeared lipstick and sweating androgynous bodies sliding against one another; of pistoning cocks and asses and mouths and obviously fake bubble-breasts; of fountains of semen being sprayed in thick loads over faces, into open mouths, dripping from anuses and filling eye sockets.
The pulsating lights changed from red to amber to red to yellow to red. Flashing in the colors of lust — while sinful eyes stared directly at her — their sexual intention was obvious and unashamed of their unnatural desires.
Mercedes found her cock rock-hard and dripping with precum as she watched their androgynous bodies gyrate all around her. Flaunting themselves temptingly against the shimmering of black light. Erotically dancing. Some were fully clothed. Some half-naked. Some are completely naked. Some Kissing. Some stripteasing. Some flashing their erections.
The erotic shamanic beat thumped in her ears. Mercedes found herself drawn downwards into the erotically charged atmosphere. In the recesses around The Hall, Mercedes saw more of them … some masturbating, frotting, pissing, defecating, copulating, fornicating … sodomizing each other with no regard for their voyeurs.
”Let us dance — tonight we celebrate the sins of Sodom,” cried the masked figure, gripping Mercedes’ thighs and pressing their erect cocks together.
Mercedes recognized the distinctive British accent of the enigmatic Dr. Ursula Roarke.
“Let the urine and semen flow … let every anus be filled with a phallus … let us suck and fuck with our shit-coated cocks and share the devil’s perverted lusts!”
Mercedes felt another cock pressed hard against her oily sphincter. She wanted a cock inside of her, desperately.
“Ahhhhhh … YES! YES! … ah fuck … ahhhh fuck … YES! Ah, fuck …” Mercedes’ groaned over and over as the disembodied cock sank deeper inside her filthy guts so that the thickness of her assailant’s shaft filled the transsexual’s shit hole.
”The best of both fucking worlds!” groaned the masked dancer.
She felt the Doctor’s fist close around both their shafts — strong fingers gripped and pressed their dripping cock flesh together — as more fuck-pole sank into the deepest reassesses of Mercedes’ hungry asshole.
She felt full, buggered and stretched.
It hurt so much but felt so fucking good. The cock thrust harder and harder. Faster and faster. Now on her knees. Another hand with black painted fingernails guided Mercedes’ face upwards so that a rock-hard cock could smear her lipstick and press into her surprised mouth — with strong hands gripping her shoulders for support — Mercedes was no longer able to speak. Her tongue lapped over the invading meat that filled her mouth and threatened to choke her throat as she was both roughly face-fucked, and ass-shagged up the shit pipe; like a dead pig on a spit as she spurted ropes of gooey cum over herself.
She watched the ugly dwarf cast off and leave the shoreline. She was now on her own. No, that wasn’t true, she was still in the midst of the fishing village — which was to be her staging post — on her adventure to find the Nachash and their so-called lost city.
“Ms. Sofia?” asked a young fifteen-year-old girl.
”Yes,” answered Sofia, “Please, call me Sofia … just Sofia.”
The girl was wiry and thin. Delicate bones. Her golden tan was uninterrupted by any signs of bra straps or cups. Beautiful small brown breasts created with black nipples and areolas.
“Well, Sofia … My name is Mikala. Mr. Tattoo told us that you would need help to explore the Dark Jungle. … that you were seeking to find the lost city?”
Her voice was sweet and her accent pleasant to Sofia’s ears. Such a pretty young thing. She felt aroused being close to her — but Sofia managed to conceal her true feeling well.
“Yes. I believe that Tattoo made an arrangement?”
”Oh yes. Mr. Tattoo said to take good care of you.”
”That was very kind of him.”
”No. No, it’s our pleasure. Our village is poor and we are very grateful for all that the resort does for us. Our livelihood couldn’t survive without them. We all need more than fish to live. Let me take your bags. You must need refreshments?”
Sofia liked the young girl’s cheeky confidence. She wandered what it would feel like to slip her hands between the girl’s smooth thighs. Her little cunt would feel so wonderful to suck upon.
“Come … it’s hot outside … we travel tomorrow … tonight we have an important ritual. You can rest … or maybe you could join us?”
“I would love to see your ritual. Tattoo told me that you fisher-women have many interesting festivals and celebrations?”
The young girl blushed in a shy yet enticing way, “Yes we do … this way … follow me.”
Mikala brought Sofia to the privacy of a small hut. It was cooler inside and the girl offered Sofia fresh coconut water in a hollow husk. It tasted sweet and refreshing. Sofia noticed the naive drawings on the inside walls of the hut. The crude sketches showed human figures, males and females, young and old (she could clearly see their exposed genitalia). They appeared to be worshiping a snake-like deity. Sofia thought it resembled other such images she’d seen before in connection with Nachash, the serpent demon (that was, of course, a proxy for the devil). A ritual of devil worship that always ended badly for someone?
“What do these drawings mean? Can you tell me anything about the Nahesa?” asked Sofia deliberately using the local word that Dr. Ursula had mentioned.
“You know of Nahesa?” asked Mikala.
“Yes … but I know it as Nachash … very similar, but I believe they mean the same thing.”
“There is in place we never go. It is where Nahesa lives. Nahesa is bad. Nahesa is evil — she is whore-devil … the serpent that devours souls …” answered Mikala.
Sofia thought about the first woman. Eve. In the Garden of Eden, she had fallen by means of the serpent — the devil that raped her and filled her with His evil seed.
“But the people in the drawings — they seemed to be worshiping this serpent that devours souls — No?”
“You are right, there were those that did worship Nahesa. They were the evil ones. Bad people,” Mikala said quietly (as if she did not want her voice to carry), “But we only make offerings to the serpent, so that Nahesa will stay away from our small village — to appease Nahesa, so that she will leave us alone and not devour our souls.”
“Oh, I see,” said Sofia.
“Mr. Tattoo mentioned that you may wish to participate in such a ritual with us. Of course, you’d be our guest of honor. We will pray for safe passage to the lost city. We will pray for you to find your fantasy. We perform this ancient ceremony after dark — for it then, and only then, that the serpent demon comes out — you will see the ritual for yourself. You must not be alarmed … Nahesa will not harm you … she only wants to eat the unborn.”
”Yes, now rest a while, I will return to you, after sunset.”
Sofia decided that it would be best for her to keep a low profile — she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. After all, she knew nothing about these strange northern tribes. Though Tattoo had that she’d have nothing to fear. There was a sense of the unexpected … but wasn’t this her fantasy to dive deeply into the unknown?
She had had no intention of sleeping as she was so excited about everything that had happened. But for some reason, after the young girl left her, she felt an incredible tiredness cover over her. She’d laid down on the small cot, which was nothing more than a simple platform, and fallen asleep.
She remembered that before sleeping she’d discovered more of the primitive drawing on the walls of the hut. Though crudely drawn, these new drawings clearly showed a ritual centered around a kind of sexual magic — there were no males — only women.
The explicitness of their ritual art showed sexual congress between older women and young girls and snakes. Some looked as if they could be even pregnant. Yes. She was sure that the pregnant women were having sex with the serpent figures. Bizarre? Were these the offerings that Mikala had mentioned? To Nahesa … to Nachesh … to the “soul eater” …
Was this what the girl had meant by “eat the unborn”? It all sounded very cryptic. Her Sapphic feelings had also got the better of her. The temptation to finger herself whilst thinking about Mikala had been too hard to resist. The idea of such a profane ritual was distinctly improbable, but all the same, Sofia found it taboo and very erotic. She fell asleep immediately afterward… her erotic dreams strangely stirred by the jungle heat.
Hoku pressed the teacher down against the black satin sheets of the huge circular bed. As Maddie lay back, she looked up and noticed, for the first time, the mirrored ceiling above. She watched voyeuristically as the naked threesome shifted positions. She saw the young twelve-year-old boy, Makaio, kneeling down between her spread thighs. His child-like fingers parted them further as he edged forward towards her aching cunt. Her legs were quivering, awaiting penetration, as he pushed them wider and wider.
“Aaarghhhhh ..” she felt him rubbing his cock head against her — eager to get his adult-sized cock inside her juicy cunt hole — but it seemed that Hoku had other ideas.
Kneeling next to him, his godmother grabbed his ear.
”Listen … You can fuck the slut’s wet cunt later,” his godmother said, “But first, I want you to stretch her dirty little asshole!”
The young mischievous boy grinned evilly.
“But I want to fuck the white slut!” he bemoaned to his godmother.
“No! You can wait!” ordered Hoku. They both laughed evilly, “I want you to fuck her ass and make the bitch gape!”
“Yer! And after … you’re gonna lick my cock clean, you fucking white slut!”
The dirty language was making Maddie’s hips buck against the child’s rampant cock. She wanted it. Deep inside her. And it was obvious that he’d done this kind of thing before … not just once or twice … but it seemed to Maddie, that the young boy was a practiced sodomite.
“Aaaaattghhhhhhhhhhththth …” groaned the school teacher.
She grimaced as he pressed his thick cock head against her virgin anus. There was a dull pressure that built up, and then a pop, as his thick cock finally penetrated her anal passage. Fuck! It felt so big. She felt full. It was bigger than she’d expected. This was going to hurt … but her body wanted it … it wanted to be filled with this dirty little fucker’s cock … Yes, she wanted it in all her holes. And yes, she wanted to suck his ass-juice-coated cock clean.
Hoku quickly straddled Maddie’s prone body. Her face was a mask of evil lust. Hungry for orgasm. She squatted on her hind over Maddie’s upturned face. She positioned herself, only a few inches, above Maddie’s mouth. Maddie looked closely at the hostess’s heavily tattooed cunt. It was the face of the devil staring back at her. The hostess’ erect clitoris stood out, like an obscene tongue, from the sheath of skin that formed the grotesque lips of the devil’s face.
The smell was heady. Maddie could smell the sourness of the hostess’ unclean hole … cunt juices, urine, and feces … it was almost overpowering her. Her clitoris must have been easily two or three inches long. Its bright red tip touched teasingly Maddie’s lips.
“Open your pathetic mouth wider, bitch … And pray to the true God … pray to Satan … Kiss him, kiss Satan … Suck Satan’s penal tongue! … open wider … I want to piss down your slutty little throat!”
Corbin & Kitty’s Fantasy
Dr. Ursula wasted no time. She immediately crossed the room to the huge monitor screen and selected a DVD from the collection. It was the last disc that Kitty would have expected the Doctor to select — as the monitor came alive and the title emerged, she immediately recognized it as the cultist hardcore sadomasochistic film simply called “Snuff”. The title said it all. This was a very controversial film and its content had been disputed — not as a realistic cinematic representation — but as an actual snuff movie in which the intended victim was actually raped, tortured, and killed by a group of sexual psychopaths that called themselves “The Cult” … it was horrifically graphic and left nothing to the imagination.
“What’s … what’s … what’s this?” stuttered Corbin, “Is this some kind of joke?”
Kitty’s heart was in her throat. Dr. Ursula ignored Corbin completely and skipped the film forward to a particularly cruel scene — where the victim had been nailed by The Cult members to a huge wooden Saint Andrew’s Cross and was about to be castrated with a long curved ceremonial blade — a bejeweled gelding knife. Naked members of The Cult watched eagerly as they masturbated and some fornicated. The sounds of anguish and suffering were overlaid by death metal music that struck at the nerves.
“No Corbin. It’s no joke. Now shut the fuck up!”
Corbin looked simply dumbstruck at the Doctor’s insulting words. Dr. Ursula turned her attention away from Corbin and the pornographic snuff film and called Ahe to her. She spoke to him — though neither of the guests could hear her words — against the piercing throb of the death metal guitars from the evil soundtrack. He just meekly nodded and stripped naked before the surprised guests.
Kitty watched avidly.
Her broken body was as prone as it could be in her wheelchair prison. Ahe stood covering his meager little genitals, until Dr. Ursula slapped his hands away, exposing his small flaccid penis that was caged in a stainless steel chastity device.
Kitty was salivating.
She simply didn’t know what to make of it all. What the fuck was going on? But then, Kitty felt something. She felt something down in the pit of her stomach. A gnawing sensation that stirred her loins.
But Kitty was crippled?
She had no feelings below her waistline? Nothing. No pain. No pleasure. But there it was … it started as a dull stabbing sensation that seemed to ripple through her perineum — through her Sacral Chakra — it hummed with arousal as if awakened from a very long sleep.
Kitty’s foot moved ever so slightly.
“Aasssssssshhhh …” she hissed, “Dr. Ursula! Dr. Ursula!”
At first, Corbin thought she was in pain. That something untoward had occurred. He tried to move — but found he couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot.
Kitty was grinning devilishly.
“Aasssssssshhhh … I feel … I feel … I feel … Ooh … ”
”Yes!” said Dr. Ursula pressing the young boy to his knees, “Yes. You feel it! Don’t you?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes!” screamed Kitty.
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