Bride of the Moon God

James Abraham Carter

Warning: This story contains explicit sex scenes

Tasani took careful aim, his dark eyes focused with unwavering concentration. The powerful muscles beneath his nut-brown skin contracted, driving his burly arm swiftly forward. The spear shot from his hand in a blur of speed and thudded solidly into the trunk of a palm tree some forty feet away, striking with such force that the jadeite spearhead was driven into the wood to a depth of two inches.

The young native was well pleased with the throw as he walked towards the tree. His spear had struck the centre of the trunk. His aim had much improved over the past few months thanks to diligent practice.

Tasani wrenched the spear from the palm, and as he turned he saw an eleven year old boy running up the beach towards him. The child held a carved rod in his hand with bright feathers bound to its end - a sign that he bore a message from Chimbuna, the chief.

The youngster stopped at a respectful distance. “Greetings Tasani, son of Chimbuna, our chief. You father requires your presence. A white man and a white woman have arrived, and as you speak their language, he needs you to talk to them.”

“A white woman?” exclaimed Tasani, a sense of foreboding coming upon him. “No white woman has ever visited our island of Vartua before.”

“It has caused considerable excitement,” replied the messenger. “You had better hurry.”

As Tasani quickly followed the boy he wondered who the whites could be. Vartua was a remote island lost in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. Some whites who came were anthropologists. He liked anthropologists. It was from them that he had learned English and much about the outside world. Could they be missionaries? He hoped not. He and his people found most to be very condescending. The Vartuans were well content with their own beliefs. Conversion to the Christian faith was not for them.

Shortly, Tasani arrived at the village, which consisted of a hundred huts scattered among the coconut palms. They were rectangular buildings raised on posts. The roofs were thatched, and the walls were made of woven bamboo. The communal vegetable gardens where yams were grown were further back in the palm grove. Outrigger canoes were beached above the high tide mark. The sailing boat of the whites was anchored in the shallows, and its rowboat was on the sand.

There was no sign of the visitors, and Tasani correctly guessed that his father, whose English was limited, had invited the whites to his hut. The messenger led him to the building, confirming his assumption. A huge silent crowd had gathered around the chief’s residence. He dismissed the boy. The throng respectfully parted, and he climbed the short ladder, passing through the doorway flanked by totemic carvings of ancestor spirits.

Entering the hut, Tasani saw his father tensely poised on a carved stool, the symbol of his rank as chief. The whites were sitting on mats reserved for guests. Tasani looked at the woman and stopped dead in his tracks. Her hair was blond, an attribute of Nua, the Moon God. No wonder the strangers' arrival had caused a stir. Tasani’s pleasant features turned grim. His sense of foreboding had been justified. It was well that Utomba, the sorcerer, had been exiled from the village. He looked at his father and now saw the same tense expression of unease on his face.

Chimbuna beckoned. “Come, my son. Speak to these people in their tongue. I do not know why they are here, but their presence disturbs me for obvious reasons. Find out who they are and what they want.”

The whites, now aware of his presence, turned to face Tasani. The woman was quite beautiful in a strange, pale way, with large, sky-blue eyes that widened in fear as she gazed at his tall, powerfully built body, a great contrast to her slim, small-breasted form. She seemed a timid thing, and he guessed her age to be about eighteen, a few years younger than himself.

The brown-haired man was much older, presumably her father. He was thin with a narrow face that possessed a certain craftiness. Tasani took an instant dislike to the man. The fellow reminded him of Utomba, not so much in appearance but in spirit - cunning, treacherous, and evil.

“I am Tasani, son of the chief,” he said in fluent English. “I will be your translator. My father wishes to know the purpose of your visit.”

“I’m Cyrus Smith, and this is my daughter Paula. I am an occultist. I have an interest in the spiritual beliefs of your culture, gained from reading The Religion of the Vartuans, a work by Jack Tylor, a renowned anthropologist who lived among you for several years.”

“We consider Jack Tylor a friend,” replied Tasani cautiously. “We gave him all our knowledge for his book. What else is there to know?”

“Ah,” replied Smith, his eyes gleaming, “but some knowledge is esoteric, not meant for the ears of ordinary men. I seek Utomba, the sorcerer, for true enlightenment.”

Tasani stiffened. “Utomba is an evil man, a dangerous man. He has been banished from our tribe.”

“Then where can I find him? I have trade goods. I am prepared to pay handsomely for the information.”

“I will convey your wish to the chief,” replied Tasani, guessing what his father’s answer would be. He wasn’t wrong; the reply was a flat “no.”

Smith’s expression darkened upon hearing the rejection, and no doubt he would have said something foolish, but his nervous daughter placed a hand on his arm in warning. “Father, let’s not antagonize these people. We’re on their land, and they outnumber us.”

Smith smoothed his expression. “You’re right, my dear.” Then to Tasani: “I accept your chief’s decision. It’s getting late. We need provisions for our journey home. Ask the chief if we can purchase food and water and stay the night. In the morning, we will be on our way.”

Chimbuna readily agreed to the reasonable request. Paula and her father departed quietly. But Tasani wasn’t convinced. He didn’t trust Smith. The fellow lusted after dark powers. It showed in his eyes. The white man wouldn’t give up so easily.

**********

Tasani crept through the night, as silent as his own moon shadow. He approached the guest hut where the whites were staying. It was secluded in a small grove for the sake of privacy. He drew near the solitary building with caution, slipping from one pool of darkness to another. He didn’t like spying, but his father had agreed that an eye needed to be kept on Smith.

The young man carefully placed the ladder he was carrying against the building. The door and mat shutters were closed, but the faint light of a kerosene lamp filtered through the interstices of the woven bamboo walls. Tasani quietly climbed the ladder and pressed his ear to the wall, hoping to overhear something of importance, but all that came to him was the sound of gasps and heavy breathing. Puzzled, he peered through a small gap and was shocked by what he saw.

Smith was lying on the floor, completely naked. Paula was also nude and was having vigerous sex with her own father, riding him cowgirl style. “I’m going to cum,” Smith gasped.

Paula quickly dismounted. She took his shaft bewteen her lips and commenced fallating him as she began to masterbate. Smith groaned. He exploded in her mouth, his semen dribbling from her lips. Paula shoved her fingers deep into her slit and also climaxed convulsively. Tasani was so shocked that he lost his balance and fell off the ladder. He struck the ground, and unconsciousness, darker than the night, claimed him.

**********

Tasani groaned and opened his eyes. His head and body ached. Luckily, some bad bruising was all he had sustained from the fall. Unluckily, he found that his hands had been securely bound behind his back. Smith stood over him, pointing a Webly revolver at his head. Paula was by her father’s side. Both were now dressed in safari suits. The sound of the fall had alerted them to his presence.

“On your feet,” snarled Smith. “You’re going to lead us to Utomba. Don’t try anything. Cooperate and no one is going to get hurt.”

Tasani slowly stood. He knew the power of firearms. Smith had limited ammunition, but many of his people might die if it came to a fight. The young native decided to go along with his captors’ plans in the hope that some opportunity might present itself whereby he could gain the upper hand.

“You were never going to leave quietly, were you?” Tasani asked.

Smith laughed softly. “No, I was going to pretend to leave. I planned to sail to the far side of the island, go ashore, and commence my search for Utomba from there. Your spying, however, has presented an opening I intend to take advantage of. Did you enjoy the view?”

Tasani looked at Paula. Incest was a grievous sin to his people. The young woman blushed, unable to meet his gaze. He felt sorry for her. She had obviously been abused for a long time, as evidenced by her submissive behavior. He made a silent vow that he would kill her father if he could.

“Come on, lead the way,” said Smith, prodding the young man with his revolver.

They left the grounds of the guest hut by a circuitous route to avoid detection and entered the jungle proper. The moon was full, providing good light to navigate the undergrowth. Tasani looked at the silvery orb, and suppressed a shudder. Nua the Moon God, was at his full strength tonight. Tasani’s nape hair stood on end. He could sense dark forces gathering, more powerful than the white man’s gun.

They moved on through the silence of the night, deeper into the heart of the island, and within an hour arrived at the abode of the exiled sorcerer. A cliff soared above them, and at the entrance of a cave, a fire flickered, casting dancing shadows upon the hollow’s walls.

A figure by the fire rose to its feet as they approached, and the gaunt features of Utomba could be seen, his shadowed face a devil’s mask in the shifting light.

“I have been expecting you,” he said in English. “The flames of divination speak to me.” He looked at Paula. “You have brought the bride,” he said.

“Yes,” replied Smith. “And you will pay the bride price. What I want is knowledge in exchange for my daughter.”

Paula gasped in horror. “Father,” she cried. “Isn’t the degradation you inflict on me enough?. Am I not only to be abused, but sold to an old man as if I’m nothing more than livestock?”

Smith turned on his daughter and savagely struck her across the face with such force that she fell on the ground and lay there weeping. Tasani tensed, but Smith quickly covered him with the revolver.

“Stay out of this,” he snarled. Then to Paula: “You’ll do as you’re told,” he growled. “You will be marrying a god, not a man, and the boon I’ll gain from the ceremony will be the mastery of dark magic - the power to rule men, perhaps even entire nations. It was all hinted at in The Religion of the Vartuans, a work by Jack Tylor.”

“It will be our power,” replied Utomba, sternly. “Remember, you have the blonde-haired girl, but only I know the proper incantations for the ceremony. You need me as much as I need you. Do not forget that.”

Tasani felt sick to his core. Now he realized the full extent of the evil that had come among his people. Utomba had been banished for treading down the dark path of black magic. Exile had seemed punishment enough. There were no blonde women among the Vartuans who could become the bride of the Moon God and thus be used to gain the dark being’s favor. But now, with the arrival of the whites, such forces were well within the reach of these ruthless and evil men.

All throughout their journey, Tasani had been working the ropes that bound him with his powerful muscles, weakening them. He had to act now, before it was too late. His muscles swelled. The rope snapped. He leapt at Smith, intending to seize the man’s revolver. But Utomba was faster. A bolt of green occult energy leaped from the fingers of his outstretched hand and struck the young native in the chest.

**********

Tasani levered himself up from the ground where he had fallen. He was amazed that he was still alive. By rights, the sorcerous blast should have killed him, as his enemies had no doubt believed. He touched the amulet that he wore around his neck. Utomba wasn’t the only one who was skilled in magic. The talisman had been made by Sewaru, his mother, with a mother’s love - something far more powerful than the blackest sorcery.

A scream of terror and agony brought home the peril of the present. Tasani gasped. There was no sign of the sorcerer or the two whites. The young native dashed to the cave and seized the spear he had glimpsed leaning against the entrance. Another scream rang out. Realizing that the ceremony must have commenced, Tasani abandoned stealth for speed. He sprinted in the direction of the wild cry.

Bursting through the undergrowth, he came upon a shocking scene. Paula was bound to an ancient sacrificial altar. A rectangular block of stone rose up from the loamy jungle soil, and to this, the young woman was bound, arms and legs spread wide apart. She was tied in a squatting stance, with a carved image of the Moon God between her feet. A huge phallus jutted up from the idol’s head, penetrating her vagina, stretching it with its rough girth.

Paula’s body trembled in agony. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Again she screamed in pain and fear. Utomba stood before her, arms raised as he chanted an eerie invocation. The moonlight seemed to surround him, intensifying as his voice rose to fever pitch. Flickering silver specks began to materialize around the weeping, terrified girl. Dread Nua was about to manifest on the mortal plane and claim his unwilling bride. Smith watched, his eyes alive with anticipation, unmoved by his daughter’s suffering.

All this Tasani took in at a glance as he hurled the spear with all his might, his skill, and his rage. The streaking weapon struck Utomba in the back. The sorcerer shrieked and fell flat on his face. The ritual had been broken. The silver specks winked out. The dark god had retreated to his realm beyond the world of men.

Smith turned. He saw Tasani charging at him, a look of wild fury on his face. He fumbled for his revolver, but the shock of what had just happened made him clumsy. The young native was upon him before he could draw the weapon. Powerful avenging hands clamped on the white man’s scrawny throat. Smith clawed futilely at those hands, his eyes bulging. But the crushing pressure of Tasani’s fingers was relentless. Smith’s arms fell to his sides. His mouth hung open, and his stare was sightless.

Tasani released the limp body with a grim smile of satisfaction. His vow to kill the white had been fulfilled. The corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud. He turned from the cadaver and quickly ran to the girl, fear for her evident on his face. She had fainted; the pain and terror had finally overwhelmed her. Carefully, he freed her from her bonds and the Moon God’s foul embrace. Then, gently gathering her in his strong arms, he set off for home as fast as he could.

**********

It was now mid morning. Tasani had just left Paula, who was in the care of the young native’s mother. Sewaru was using her knowledge of magic and medicinal herbs to treat the girl’s physical and psychological injuries. She was confident that Paula would make a full recovery, much to the young native’s heartfelt relief.

His father was waiting for him in the chief’s hut. Chimbuna wore a worried expression, a sharp contrast to the young native’s joy. As Tasani sat on the mat in front of him, the chief came straight to the point.

“You have killed Utomba, and thus eliminated a great evil, and that is good. But you have also killed a white man. The whites will want vengeance for his death. It will mean great trouble for our people, and you in particular.”

“I have thought of this as well,” replied Tasani. “I have spoken to Paula. Her father kept their destination a secret because of what he planned to do. No one knows that they came here. We can tow their ship into the deep ocean with our canoes. There, the currents will carry it far from us. If it is discovered, no one will be certain from whence it came.”

“But what of the white woman?” countered Chimbuna. We cannot allow her to return to her own people. Questions will be asked, and eventually, the truth will be discovered.”

“Mother has divined the future with her arts,” replied Tasani. “There is no need to worry. She will stay here. Paula and I will be married by the time the rainy season arrives. The girl will find far more happiness here than she did among her own people.”

Chimbuna smiled. “Then I can look forward to many grandchildren.”

Both men grinned at each other.

The End