A group of friends and I were up at my cabin for an extended weekend. It hadn’t really been planned. Paula and I… Paula is a local girl I have been seeing off and on since a few years after I bought the cabin and the lake it sits on… Paula and I were planning a quiet fall weekend alone. Well, quiet if your definition of quiet includes trying out some new erotic devices I have been developing. Most of what I make tends to be for bondage or discipline, but Paula was more of an “overdrive the senses” type of girl, and my new multiple frequency, smart phone controlled vibrator could do exactly that.
When Josh called and said he was going to be in the area and asked if the invitation to come out some weekend was still open, I reluctantly said yes. I figured there would still be plenty of time for me and Paula to play with the new toys because Josh and Susan would probably be spending a lot of their time testing some of my pleasure to pain range of new items. Susan liked the full range and the full range from pleasure to pain was actually all pleasure to her.
Then Bill called with the same request. He said he didn’t know why the idea suddenly popped into his head, but the thought of spending Halloween weekend at the lake was very appealing. Bill and Keri run a restaurant together. Not a whole lot of people like to go out for a fine meal on Halloween, and business is very slow, so they could leave things in the hands of the managers. They are both excellent chefs and Keri also runs a small cooking school. Like most gourmands, they appreciate new ways of stimulating their senses and have been clients of mine for some time. Since Josh and Susan were already going to be here, I told him to come on up.
I almost answered the phone with “W’s Hotel” when I saw Mark’s phone number on the caller ID. I am a suspicious person by nature, and three calls within an hour, all asking if the invitation for a weekend was still open made me wonder. I even asked Mark, “You didn’t happen to arrange this with Josh or Bill did you?”
I could tell by the tone of his response he was being sincere when he asked, “Who are they?”
Paula watched me speak with Mark. After I had hung up, she laughed and said, “W, don’t you know that some coincidences are just meant to be?”
Personally, I don’t believe in coincidences, but out of politeness I returned Paula’s laugh rather than express my doubts and concerns.
All three couples arrived on Friday night relatively late. My lake is not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but from the top of the ridge, you can see nowhere from here. We talked for while, had some drinks together, and went to bed.
Saturday was rather warm for the last day of October. The leaves were beautiful fall colors, the lake was calm and the sky was clear. Late in the afternoon, Darlene suggested, “Why don’t we go over to the hunting cabin for the evening. It’s going to be a full moon tonight. We could have a big campfire and watch the stars.”
Mark, Darlene’s current significant other, smirked. He knew what she meant by “watch the stars.” She wanted to have sex on the beach or out in the woods at night. It was one of her fantasies that she had talked about with him several times. In the years I have known Darlene, she has worn out four significant others. She keeps trying to find a man who can keep up with her. I have suggested that she date twins, or perhaps triplets. If Mark starts lagging in the bedroom, I think she might seriously consider it, but for now he was more than capable of keeping up with her almost unsatiable desires.
It was going to be a beautiful night, and the lake was calm, so I agreed. As nightfall came, there were eight of us at “the hunting cabin” on the far west edge of my lake. My pontoon boat was shoved securely into the beach and tied to a tree. It had two strong spotlights on the front and I could use the onboard radio to trigger the strobe beacon on the dock at my cabin, so I had no worries about getting back late at night. It had a very well-stocked built in cooler and bar, but as “captain,” I was going to have to limit my drinking until we got back to my cabin.
“My cabin” is on the east shore of the lake. The hunting cabin was one of the reasons I was able to buy all of the land surrounding this lake. It has “a bad reputation with local folk,” or at least that is what they will tell you in town.
Everyone around here knows exactly what you mean if you say “the hunting cabin.” They can describe it accurately even if they, personally, have never seen it. It is exactly round and was built out of heavy, very weathered limestone. It has been around since “at least before the war.” It has never had electricity or water or, even windows. I’m not even sure it ever had a roof, at least there is no indication of rafter knocks. Maybe it had a thatched roof that just set on top of it at one time.
The only thing I am certain of about the hunting cabin is that it was built a long, long time ago…, and there is something special about the area where it sits. The only date anyone assigns to it is “before the war.” I’m not exactly sure how long ago that was, because in this area “before the war” can mean anything from before the latest screw up in the mid-east to before the revolutionary war of 1776 or even some Indian war before that. Regardless of when it was, everyone who grew up around here knows the story, so everyone thinks they know which war is being talked about.
That may sound odd to some people, but in an area like this there is something called a “communal memory.” Stories get passed on from parent to child or from older child to younger child beginning very early in life. If you grow up hearing the stories repeated again and again, you start remembering them as if whatever it was that happened, had happened to you in your lifetime.
Today is built on yesterday, and I have always made it one of my priorities to know the stories of the local communal memory. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I am accepted – or at least tolerated – in this tight knit, isolated community that normally “doesn’t cotton to outsiders.” That and the fact that I don’t ask too many questions and I never tell people what I think they or the community ought to do.
One of the more interesting stories concerns “the slanted bluff.” Several different people have described to me how a strong earthquake split the area and shifted the course of the river. They said that the cliff that used to be there slid off and kept going across the undulating ground for almost a mile, forming an odd shaped hill half-way across the valley. A geologist friend of mine said that every word of that story is true…, except one minor fact. It happened about eight thousand years ago, and “there is no way in hell these people could even know about it, let alone have witnessed it.” Then he always adds, “But, damn, they have their facts right.”
I asked him how the local people could know that much about it, and his scientific answer was, “It beats the shit out of me. I would never have thought that great a dynamic shift was even possible if you hadn’t insisted I test the rocks.”
A few years ago an anthropologist came out here to “study the people of this isolated area.” She ended up spending most of her time at Jake’s Roadhouse because none of the “natives” would talk to her. That’s where I met her. She was really bored one evening and we ended up back at my place. Our after sex pillow talk drifted somehow to communal memories. I asked her if it was possible for a communal memory to go back thousands of years. She said that it could only happen if somehow there was a continuous presence going back that far. She left two days later after telling me that she didn’t have a thousand years to wait for someone here to talk to her.
It only took me a few years to meet Paula. I had intentionally decided not to get involved with any of the local girls, and have stuck to that intention. But Paula was different. She heard that I was cleaning up the area around the hunting cabin and asked me why I was doing that. I told her, “I don’t know, but there is something special about that place. I get the feeling that whatever is – or was – out there, deserves better.”
She came out to help me clear brush and dig debris out of the inside of the cabin. She even suggested that I cover the inside with a smooth layer of clay mortar, because “that is probably what it was once like.” One thing led to another and after a couple years we ended up “involved.”
Paula is a very difficult person to understand and even harder to describe. If I had to sum her up in one sentence, I would say that she is a very powerful woman who keeps her true power very carefully hidden. She has come to trust me and has filled me in on a lot of local stories from this amazing communal memory.
The trip across the lake was totally smooth. We weren’t out on the lake to party or fish, so I took the direct route. When we got to the hunting cabin, the first thing we did was gather up a bunch of firewood. I started to lay out a fire in the fire ring I had built a few summers ago, but Paula said, “No, it needs to go there,” and pointed to a spot about ten feet in front of the doorway to the cabin. “That way,” she explained, “the fire will be visible from anywhere in the lodge and you will be able to see it through the windows from anywhere on the lake.”
I had never noticed that about the arrangement of the doors and windows, but I built the fire where Paula had suggested. After I got the fire going, we cooked some burgers over the flames. I limited myself to one beer, but everyone else, except Paula, was going through my supply fairly rapidly. After it was dark, with only the light of the fire and the glow of the rising moon, Darlene informed Mark that she wanted to go walk on the beach and look at the stars. With a full moon, almost no stars were visible, but I don’t think Mark was going to be looking up at the sky anyway.
A little while later, Paula asked quietly, “Do you want to hear the real story of this lodge?”
I, for one, wasn’t going to let an opportunity like that pass, and I said, “Go for it!” I don’t know if Josh and Susan and Bill and Keri were all that keen to hear the story, but it is my lake and they were drinking my beer, so they said, “Sure.”
Paula got up and stood by the fire. The five of us were in lawn chairs close enough to be warmed by the flames. “This,” pointing to the cabin, “is the sacred medicine lodge of the Pea-a-wah people. The tribe was here before the new ones came to this land…. long before the white new ones came. This lodge was built to stand for all time here by the shore of the lake while the tribe wandered throughout these lands. To understand what I am about to tell you, you must be within the lodge.”
It was an odd request, but I would have done a lot more to hear the full story of the hunting cabin, so I picked up my chair and started into the lodge. The others followed my example. As we moved our chairs into the circle of stone, I was wishing that I had a recorder of some sort, or at least a pen and paper, but instead I was going to have to listen hard and remember harder. The wide doorway and the two low windows alongside the opening allowed us to see and hear very clearly. Between the light of the fire before us and the glow of the full moon above us, it was almost bright within the walls.
Paula returned and stood beside the fire. “The tribe would return here,” she explained, pointing down at the ground beneath her, “whenever it needed to be renewed. That could be the death of the chief, or perhaps the death of other major leaders in the tribe. Sometimes, the spirits just led the people back here and the ritual hunt was done so that the will of spirits could be known within the tribe.”
“The ritual hunt was simple. On the night of the last full moon before the snow times, four of the strongest and bravest men of the tribe would bring four maidens here to the lodge. Sometimes the maidens came willingly, sometimes they did not. To be chosen as a maiden for the hunt was a great honor, but it held many risks. It also held the possibility of great reward.”
“When night had fallen and the full circle of the moon could be seen in the sky, the maidens would come to the fire and cast all of their possessions into the flames. Then naked and defenseless, they would flee into the woods to be hunted by the four braves.”
“When the circle of the moon reached its highest point, the hunt would begin. The first maiden to be captured would be brought back to the fire. She would be branded with a carved stone on the side of the left buttocks. The brand was in the shape of a whip, and symbolized that she was to be the one to receive the punishment that would atone for the lives of the animals which the tribe must kill to survive the winter. From that point on, she would be slave to the medicine woman. She was considered to be the lowest of the women, and was denied clothing except in the harshest of weather. She would regularly be tied to the skin rack in the middle of camp and whipped until she screamed.”
“This sounds barbaric, but often times the atonement woman would yearn for her time of punishment and would bind herself to the skin rack so that she could be beaten. Perhaps being the atonement woman changed her, or perhaps she already craved the whip and allowed herself to be captured first.”
“The second maiden captured would be branded with the symbol of the knife. She would be married to the one who captured her – or to his son. The butcher woman of the tribe would teach her the skills of cutting and cleaning meat and the skills of using the hides and the bone and the sinews. She would be responsible for teaching these skills to the women of the tribe.”
Paula paused and looked at each of us to see if we were still listening. “The third maiden captured would be branded with the symbol of fertility – a phallus. She became the bride of the brave chosen by the medicine man – the shaman of the tribe. But before her partner was chosen, she would mate with all the braves of the tribe so that her firstborn son would belong to the tribe and not to any one brave. She was to be the one who taught fertility to the women of the tribe and would be learned in the ways of pleasing a man… or a woman.”
“None of the maidens ever wanted to be the fourth one captured. The fourth one captured would be the tribe’s offering to the gods of the hunt. She would be branded with the symbol of the wolf, and staked out in a clearing to be left for the hunters of the forest. Normally the medicine woman would give this maiden a special herb so that she went to sleep and accepted her fate.”
If any maiden should somehow evade capture until dawn, it is proof that she is a Warrior Woman and is entitled to wear the feather brand. If the hunters of the forest bow down to a Warrior Woman, that woman becomes the new Chief of the tribe. Many maidens who think that they are Warrior Women and elude the first three captures, often end up as an offering to the gods of the hunt who have rejected them.”
Paula stepped closer to the fire and picked something up off of the ground. “It is because the hunt for a Chief is never ending, that this place is feared. Maidens know that if they come here on the night of the last full moon before the snows, they may end up as prey for the ritual hunt.”
She smiled at me and suddenly I knew that something was terribly wrong. There was no light in the lodge except from the fire. The thatched roof above me was blocking out the light of the moon. I started to say, “What the hell!?” When Paula suddenly threw something onto the fire. There was a tremendous burst of smoke and flame, and then…. and then I was in the middle of a mixture of dream and nightmare.
I was running naked except for a loin cloth and leather moccasins. I was chasing someone through the woods. She was naked and her light brown hair was flying behind her as she ran. She looked over her shoulder and I could see that it was Susan. I knew I had to catch her, but I wasn’t sure why. Then Josh ran in from the right and tackled her, taking her down in a heap of arms and legs.
Apparently Josh had some leather strips with him because he tied her hands and legs with them and hoisted her up on his shoulders. “We need to mark her before we go after the others,” he said. His voice, or perhaps his words sounded odd.
We both ran back to the hunting lodge. There were two small trees in front. Josh rapidly tied Susan between the trees and then picked up something from the ground. It was a switch, freshly peeled of its bark. He handed a second one to me and said, “We don’t have much time. It requires 50 strokes. We will alternate and each do half.”
With that he began swinging the switch against Susan’s ass. After five, he stopped and said, “Now you.” I swung and Susan screamed as the switch bit into her asscheeks. She was screeching more and more shrilly as Josh and I each repeated our cadence of five strokes until the desired count of fifty was reached. When we stopped Susan stopped screaming, but she continued to moan, only now her moans were deeper, more throaty, almost as if she were approaching sexual release.
Josh picked up something from the fire. It was a small tree limb that was barely in the fire. There was something lodged in the end of it and held in place with a winding of thin leather strips. It looked like a long piece of stone that had been shaped on the end to a thin line. He pressed it lightly against the left side of Susan’s ass. Suddenly she threw back her head and roared out a guttural, moaning cry. There was no mistaking this. She was climaxing from the pain. “We must hurry,” yelled Josh. “There are others to catch.”
I followed him back into the woods. Soon we could hear someone else running. Keri burst forth from a clump of brushes with Bill close behind her. She saw us and tried to turn to run the other way, but Bill suddenly caught her and bound her wrists and ankles. We followed him back to the lodge as he carried her, kicking and screaming, through the woods.
When we got back to the fire in front of the lodge, he set her on the ground and said to Josh, “You know what to do and when.” Then he released Keri wrists and ankles and allowed her to stand. He lay on his back on the ground. His good-sized prick was swollen and erect. Keri looked down at him and then, as if in a dream, slowly settled herself upon his manhood.
She began riding him and soon both were moaning in sexual frenzy. Finally, with a loud yell, she slammed herself down hard on Bill’s cock and folded herself against his chest. Bill reached his hands around her and held her tight, and Josh pulled another branding stone from the fire. This time the end of the stone was slightly triangular in shape, like the blade of a knife.
The brand went on the outside of Kari’s right buttocks. She screamed loudly as the heated stone burned into her flesh. It was not a scream of pleasure. She went limp, perhaps passed out, perhaps just exhausted from the chase and its aftermath.
Josh again ran into the woods yelling for us to hurry. Bill and I followed him. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and soon we were in a small clearing. Mark and Darlene were in the center of the clearing. Mark had her pinned to the ground and was fucking her from behind, more or less doggy style. She was crying out, “Harder. Harder. Harder.”
Mark climaxed and Josh yelled to him, “It has to be at the lodge. Bring her.” Mark threw Darlene over his shoulder and loped along with us back to the lodge where Susan was still tied between the trees and Kari was curled up next to the fire.
“Place her there,” ordered Josh, and Mark laid Darlene on a mat in front of the fire. “We must each take her in a different way,” he said as he rolled Darlene onto her hands and knees and knelt behind her. She thrust back against him frantically as he pushed into her. He paused to let her anal canal adjust to him, and then began thrusting.
“Hurry,” he said to me. “At the same time.” So, as if I was dreaming, I knelt before her and lifted my loin cloth. My prick was already almost hard and it stiffened to full hardness as soon as she pulled it into her mouth. Three ways and multiples are not my first choice when it comes to sex, but a stiff prick doesn’t care if the tongue is the only thing working. A short while later I spurted into her mouth.
When Josh finished Darlene lay face down on the mat with her hands beneath her rubbing her sex. She was squirming and moaning and seemed not to notice when Josh took another of the branding stones from the fire and pressed it into the small of her back just at the line of her hip bones. The brand looked like a crude prick symbol with two balls on one end of it, in other words, a phallus.
“There is one more to catch,” said Josh with a great deal of urgency in his voice. The gods of the hunt must be appeased or we will not survive the winter.”
My mind had no idea what he was talking about, but my body followed him as he ran back into the woods. The four of us chased Paula throughout the rest of the night. We would see her near a tree and surround her, but suddenly she would be behind us rather than in front of us. We were still chasing her when the glow of dawn lit up the sky and she led us back to the hunting lodge.
She stood before the fire naked, sweaty, and proud. “The hunt is over,” she declared. “I am a Warrior Woman. I choose to wear the feather brand.”
With that, she bent and picked up one of the two branding sticks still in the fire. She had very little body hair, and almost none between her legs. She pressed the brand against her skin on the pubic bone just above her sex. When she lifted it away, a small, crude representation of a feather remained.
“You must face me to see this brand'” she said. It is not like the brands of servants on their sides, or the brand of passionate ones on their backs. This is the brand of a Warrior Woman.”
She then lay down on her back in the clearing. There were four pegs driven into the ground. Her arms and legs were in the position in which they would have been tied had she been the fourth captive.
She howled. Literally, she howled like a wolf and then said in almost a chant, “Hunters of the forest, judge me. I give my life to you if I am not worthy.”
Four huge wolves walked out of the forest. I had never seen wolves in these woods before. These were huge and greyish black with a touch of grey-white around the faces. All four came up to where Paula was lying on the ground and sat down. They then lowered their heads and growled softly. I had seen this behavior before in dogs. They were showing submission to an alpha. They were bowing before her.
She said, “Thank you my brothers of the hunt,” and rose to her feet.
She came and stood before the four of us. “I am Paw-lee-wa, she began. Then looking directly at me, she continued, “I have come to know you, man called ‘W,’ and you have heard the cries of my people. Thank you for restoring the lodge so that once again we could hold the hunt. I looked in your mind and called forth from your friends three maidens who were worthy of the roles they must play in the hunt and in the world.”
“The Pea-a-wah have been without a chief too long, but with the lodge in ruins for many lifetimes and no maidens found worthy of the hunt, a chief could not be chosen to lead them. My people have been stranded here leaderless long after their time. The hunt is complete. I am chief. I will now lead my people from this place. It is time for us to leave these mountains and go to the land of the spirits.”
“Man called ‘W,’ we thank you. It would please our spirits if the lodge is kept well, but it is no longer truly necessary. It will never be used again by my people. You have freed us.”
Then she and the four wolves walked into the fire and disappeared.
= = = = = = =
I woke stiff and groggy in a lawn chair next to a now burned out fire. The others were stirring around me.
I heard stirring behind me and then Bill’s voice. “What the hell kind of beer do you buy, W? I only had three or four and it knocked me on my ass. I haven’t passed out drinking since college.”
Keri was standing beside him. “I had some really weird dreams,” she said. “Are you sure there wasn’t something in that beer?”
Susan stood up beside her and stretched her obviously hurting body. “That was more than just a weird dream. I hurt all over and I’ve got welts on my back and legs.”
“You’ve got a brand on your ass also,” I said. “Left side for you Susan. Right side for you Keri. Susan, your’s is the symbol of a whip. Keri, your’s is the symbol of a knife. When Darleen gets back, her’s is in the center of her back and is a phallus.”
About that time Darlene and Mark came walking back up to the hunting lodge. “We must have fallen asleep on the beach,” said Darlene. Then she added in a rather throaty voice, “I had the most wonderful dream.” Mark just looked at everyone and shrugged his shoulders.
“Where’s Paula?” Josh had joined us and had noticed her absence.
“Paw-lee-wa of the Pea-a-wah people has left to lead her people to the spirit lands.” I answered. “It’s a very long story and I’m not sure any of you will believe me. I don’t know if anyone will ever believe me.”
I told them the story as best as I could remember it, and no, they didn’t believe me. They still think that I, or someone, tampered with their beer. I didn’t bother to argue with them. Even the three brands on the women was not enough to convince them. Keri asked me directly if I had done it while she was passed out. I assured her that whatever happened to them also happened to me, and we left it at that.
I decided that this was one story I would never tell anyone. I promised myself that I would take it with me to my grave. I probably would have kept that promise, but a few weeks later I was sitting at the bar at Jake’s Roadhouse nursing a beer and watching a game on television when the bartender leaned across the bar and said softly, “I really am going to miss Paula around here.”
I looked up at him and he continued in his quiet voice, “You know that she was one of the old people, don’t you? She’s been around here a long time… a long, long time. She would tell us stories about how it was before the war. I think the people here would like to know how her story ended.”
I told him. He listened intently to every word I said. He believed me. And he will tell others, and they will tell their children, and their children will tell their children. And someday, if an anthropologist again comes to this area and takes the time – a long time – to earn the people’s trust, those children might share with him or her from the communal memory, the story of Paw- lee-wa, the last Warrior Woman Chief of the Pea-a-wah People.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
END OF STORY
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =