Petals and Thorns
- 3 years ago
- 10
- 0
Isle Of Thorns 1: The Black Pearl free porn video
The ocean raged like a wounded beast miles above them, whipped up by the violent thunderstorm passing overhead, but the tempest barely registered eight hundred fathoms beneath the surface. It certainly did not register to Tess, intent as she was on the moonlight colored pearl she held lightly between her teeth, readying herself to push it with a trembling tongue into the waiting labial lips of Eperia, her secret lover and the captain of the underwater seaship known as the Kraken.
The true black pearl, ones not artificially dyed, can only be from one source: the Tahitian black-lipped oyster, or Pinctada margaritifera, found in the waters surrounding Tahiti. The black lips of the oyster lend their color to the pearl; the farther away from the lips, the less black they are. Some become a lovely silvery gray, not unlike the color of moonlight, or shadow, or fog.
Eperia had harvested the oysters in Tahiti, and made them a new home deep in the substructure of the Kraken, where they were kept on a bed of their native rock and sand, continually bathed in freely flowing seawater. She had strung the most beautiful of the pearls together to form a long necklace, each pearl different in size and sheen, texture and hue.
“You are my black pearl,” Tessa whispered to her Captain. She cherished the contrast of the colors of their skin when they were together, her own pale white hand pressed against the Captain’s coffee colored thigh, blonde hair spilling down to tickle Eperia's belly. She held the first pearl between her teeth, examining it with her curious feline tongue, exploring the contours and textures and taste before sending it off into the warm, fragrant interior of Eperia’s pussy. She took the next pearl between her teeth. There were currently twenty-three pearls on the strand, though new pearls were always being added.
Twenty-two to go.
Tess took her time. Between pearls she lavished Eperia with her tongue and lips and teeth, sucking at her clit, biting at her warm folds, sliding her tongue deep into her captain’s wetness, revisiting the precious smoky orbs she had already placed inside. When the entire strand had been lovingly inserted into place, Tess capped the act with a kiss on the clit. Eperia moaned, thrashing at the sensation of it.
“More. I need more. Fill me,” she commanded.
Tess complied. She inserted one slippery finger between Eperia’s lips, then a second. Eperia eagerly spread her legs wide, pushing into Tess’s fingers, taking her deep, keening in pleasure. Tess licked Eperia’s juices off her own dripping fingers as they slid in and out of her pussy. Waves of sensation rippled across the surface of Eperia’s chocolate skin, the muscles of her thighs and exquisite ebony torso. Tess teased the puckered entrance to Eperia’s ass, playing at the rim, inserting her finger just inside it. Epheria arched her back in response and let out a fevered cry, her legs scissoring around eager Tess’s head. Tess managed her captain’s pleasure expertly, keeping her fingers inside her, prolonging the sensation, tickling the spasming muscles that squeezed at her flesh.
She was so close.
Tess deftly plucked the end of the strand of pearls between her two fingers and delicately began to pull it out. Eperia whimpered with the withdrawal of each separate pearl, her body awash in tremors of pleasure.
When Tess had retrieved delicate strand, she took the lead pearl again between her teeth and pushed it against the tight rim of Eperia’s ass, pushing against it with the tip of her tongue. Eperia reacted with a sharp intake of breath. Her muscles relaxed as she took the first pearl into her ass, the second, the third. Tess felt the Captain’s body reacting, the familiar sweet tension begin to form deep inside her. Her nerves tingled in concert with her lover.
“Fill me again,” she cried. “I need you inside me.”
Tess plunged two fingers between Eperia’s pouting pussy lips as she slid yet another pearl inside her captain’s ass.
“Oh, yes, all of me,” she sighed. “Fill all of me, all my emptiness. Take me. Bring your Captain to her climax.”
Tess thrust her fingers deeply inside Eperia--her captain, her lover, her mentor, her friend—as she liberally wetted her Captain’s tight hole with her tongue. She eased in another pearl, then another. Eperia could no longer single out which sensation was caused by what action, fingers and tongues and pearls all joining together into a symphony of feeling, her whole being enveloped, every nerve tingling, every neuron firing, every muscle spasming. Her fall into orgasm was akin to diving into deep, dark waters.
At the exact moment she surrendered and came, the thundering opening chords of Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor hammered against the thin alloyed metal hull of the Kraken, echoing down her hallways, thrumming across her bulkheads and doorways, vibrating in harmonic rhythms through the entire vessel like a tuning fork. Dekker, the ship’s biologist, played it every evening on the outsized organ located in the ship’s study. His timing was nearly always uncanny, every night.
As their hearts slowed Tess and Eperia lay next to each other in the Captain’s bunk, the wall curving over them at the same familiar and comforting angle of arc that all the walls of the seaship maintained. The same arc repeated through every hall and every room of the vessel. Eperia had designed the seaship with the Golden Mean in mind, the ratio that appeared throughout the natural world, in music and painting and architecture, the orbit of planets, the structures of crystals and shells and the leaves of plants. As a result, the Kraken looked, from the outside, like a living thing, an elongated Nautilus shell. Each chambered rooms mirrored the ratio, every surface and structure save one: the large harpoon array that emerged straight out of the circular conning tower in the topmost area of the ship like a dagger, its stark, hard lines in dramatic contrast to the curving convex lines from which it emerged.
A curious by-product of the ship’s classical design was the resultant acoustics. Even though the galloping chords of Bach’s work rumbled through the ship, aided by the harmonics in the structure, Tess and Eperia were able to converse in whispers and perfectly understand each other.
*
“That was lovely,” said Eperia. “I am still reeling. Would you like for me to return your sweet favors?” She kissed Tess, her hand creeping toward her lover’s body, naked underneath the thick blanket.
“No,” said Tess, taking the Captain’s hand in her own to stop its forward progression. This scene had been repeated many times between them. Tess considered it a great honor to bring her Captain pleasure, but she was far more reticent about Eperia ministering to her own pleasures, and would only occasionally allow her to do so. Her childhood was spent in the overprotective bosom of a deeply religious family, puritanical and punishing and distrustful of pleasure. Tess had run away from home in her teenage years and headed west until she reached the ocean and could go no further. She found work in various California shipyards. While she may have escaped her family, the judgmental values they had instilled in her remained.
Her strict upbringing was what drew her to Eperia. She was awestruck by the Captain’s disavowal of society’s rules and strictures, the refusal to hew to conventional morals. Eperia had created an entire world, her own world, inside her underwater home. No country. No religion. No kings. No priests. No generals.
Eperia grew up a slave in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Her headstrong nature and native intelligence soon revealed itself in her refusal to learn the trades typically taught a young slave girl, and she was allowed to work in her grandfather’s blacksmith’s shop, where she learned the fundamentals of iron working and the forging of steel. Her mother taught her to read, and kept her supplied with books stolen from the plantation’s vast library. Her fierce intellect and unquenchable curiosity soon drew the attentions of slaves and slave-holders alike, and her caregivers decided she needed to be secreted away from the plantation before her skills resulted either in punishment or in the aid of the Confederates in the burgeoning War Between the States.
She traveled north by underground railroad, escaping forever the shackles of slavery, and made her way to the Union shipyards of John Erickson, where she, as his apprentice, learned of metallurgy and shipbuilding and navigaton, resulting in the first truly modern ironclad warship, the Monitor. When the Monitor sank and 16 men drowned, her mentor Erickson was discredited and Eperia fled.
She lived by her wits in the north until the end of the war, but word of her abilities traveled, and she eventually found herself as apprentice (and occasional lover) to Nicola Tesla during the building of his first energy broadcasting tower in Wardenclyffe, New York. When that tower had been sabotaged and destroyed by powers wishing to keep broadcast energy a secret, she followed him to his second and much larger tower in Colorado Springs. After that towers had been sabotaged and destroyed, just like the first, and Tesla driven slowly mad by his perceived failure, Eperia traveled to California. She wearied of being an apprentice to inferiors, tired of taking orders from those who didn’t understand her ideas. She felt nothing but disgust at the slaughter of over half a million men for a mere cloth flag and the theoretical notion of a united country.
Nothing but war and avarice, sabotage and suffering.
She left the world of men.
She hired a crew of like-minded renagades from the shipyards, black and white, men and women (it was in the shipyards that she met Tessa), giving them a place to stay and food to eat, paying them not in salary but in knowledge and experience, and the promise that when her underwater seaship was built they would sail with Emperia as her crew. She experimented with metal alloys and ship design, far surpassing the clumsy efforts of the Union Navy she had labored for over a decade earlier.
She built the Kraken.
She constructed an energy broadcasting tower, not unlike Tesla's early attempts, off the coast of California on the uninhabited island of Seal Rock to power the underwater seaship.
She left the United States and headed for deep water, vowing to never be a citizen of any country ever again. Her only allegiance was to the ocean, her only home the Kraken.
*
Tessa squeezed the captain’s hand, taking it in her own. She said, “I love filling you.”
“I love the way you fill me,” said Eperia, stroking her hair. “No one has ever filled me the way you can.”
“No one,” said Tessa.
“There is only one thing that fills me the way you fill me,” said the Captain.
“The sea,” said Tessa.
“The sea,” repeated the Captain.
“And the search for your home.”
Eperia’s eyes grew soft and wistful. “My beautiful Nan Madol.”
“The City of Ghosts.” Tess loved hearing the story, over and over, like a child’s tale. The familiarity brought her comfort.
“Yes,” said Emperia. Now it is called the City of Ghosts, though that was not always the case. Once it was a kingdom. A paradise. The land of my people. How I long to show you the azure waters of my home.”
The Bach tocatta sounding through the confines of the ship abruptly cut off.
They both heard the slight change in pitch of the engine at the center of the Kraken; seconds later, the rudders ar the bow of the ship creaked, and the slant of the entire vessel canted upward. Something was afoot.
"We're rising toward the surface," said Tess.
Eperia said, "Perhaps the galvanic field surrounding the hull has detected something."
They listened.
As if on cue, the sound of claxons filled te room, interrupting Tess and Eperia’s languor. The claxons rang through the ship just as the music had, carried along by the harmonic structure of the ship, so that the sound of alarm was less a shrieking bell-like sound and more of a humming vibration, not heard so much as felt.
Captain Eperia lept out of bed in her haste to get to the aerophone mounted on the wall, nearly pushing Tess aside. She pulled herself under control before speaking. “Captain to bridge,” she uttered calmly into the speaking cone. “Report.”
A disembodied voice emerged from the chamber of the aerophone. “Land ahoy! Land ahoy! Captain report to bridge.”
Eperia began to dress hastily. Tess watched, wrapping the blanket tightly around her. “Land! They’ve found land! Maybe it’s….”
“Don’t say it, love,” said Eperia. “I don’t want to put the possibility into words. It is too important to me.”
“I understand,” replied Tess.
Eperia continued. “You also understand why I cannot have you join me on the bridge, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Tess, quietly.
“It is not a good example to set for the rest of the crew.”
Tess did not voice her doubts about the example the Captain would be setting. “I understand.” She dressed, left the Captain’s quarters, and took her place in the scullery, her own battle station whenever crises arose.
Minutes later, Captain Eperia appeared on the bridge, alone. The claxons abruptly ceased.
“Report,” she commanded.
The navigator turned from the map projected on the wall before him. “It appears to be a small island. Latitude is 6.842. Longitude is 158.332. We do not have a record of this island on any maps or charts. It is difficult to precisely determine the island’s size, based on so little preliminary information. But if the island were, roughly, a round shape, it would be approximately 17 square miles in total area, based on the observed diameter.”
“Any signs of vegetation? Any signs of human habitation?”
Dekker, the ship’s biologist, answered her question. “There is no sign of habitation, though we are still very far away. There are, however, intriguing signs of vegetation, even from this distance.”
“What signs?” asked the Captain.
“A forest, I think, but we haven’t been able to determine the type of tree. The trees do not seem to be either deciduous or coniferous. They are large, dark in color, almost black, and do not appear to have any type of leaf or needle on the limbs. The limbs appear strong and dense, as they do not seem to react to prevailing winds. The ends of the tree limbs also appear too sharpen dramatically at their endpoints.”
“Deploy the Eye,” ordered Eperia.
“Yes, Captain,” said the first mate.
The Eye was a flexible tube than emerged from the conning tower, near the harpoon. Natural buoyancy allowed it to rise to the surface of the ocean without additional power, but once the surface was breached an intricate series of internal wires allowed it to turn in any direction, to raise and lower, and view its target from multiple angles. These wires also controlled a round, three lensed orb that could zoom in and out and shift focus to any part of the target. The rounded shape of the lenses’ housing resembled a giant eyeball, and that was how the device acquired its name.
The Captain took the eyepiece and spent a good deal time observing the island, adjusting magnification and focus. She found the vegetation was exactly as described. The forest rose from the land to dominate the small island, forming a compact, dark silhouette of twisting shapes, seemingly impervious to wind or water. Each limb on every tree, without exception, ended in ominous tooth-like points. After a time she said, “Dekker, are you a religious man?”
“Captain, you know I am not,” replied the biologist.
“Nor am I, Mr. Dekker. But they look like thorns, don’t you think?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Have you read your Bible?”
“No. Not in many years.”
“You should. It is a fable, but a useful one. They placed a crown on Jesus’s head just before the crucifixion. It was woven from thorny vines, meant to inflict pain, to punish. To ridicule his claims of moral authority over mankind.
“Yes,” said Dekker. “I know the story.”
Captain Eperia turned away from her eyepiece to meet Dekker’s gaze directly. “This looks like a huge forest of thorned trees, growing right in the center of the island. It reminds me of nothing so much as a crown of thorns.”
*
The ship’s Galvinist, in charge of the electromagnetics of the vessel, cried out, “We have a disturbance in the galvanic field, below the ship, starboard bow, 20 degrees below horizontal. Less than 300 fathoms away and closing fast.”
Eperia, without taking her eyes from the eyepiece, performed a complex series of actions on the keyed metal console at her fingertips, taking the eye down below the surface of the water, curving out over the Kraken’s starboard side. She increased the magnification and tightened the focus to see the flattened clubs at the end of two tentacles spiraling directly toward the lens, two rows of tell-tale tentacle hooks rotating rapidly with the onrush of water, trails of bubbles in their wake. Beyond the tentacles loomed eight rubbery outreached arms.
“Battle stations, gentleman,” she ordered with an excess of calm. “This is not a drill. Giant squid off the starboard bow. Everyone report to battle stations.”
The claxons sounded anew.
Elissa
- 06.12.2020
- 8
- 0
- Category:
- Steampunk
