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I. DINO-EROTICA

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Paul and I were looking over a raptor kill during the endless day of Pellucidar.  I was dressed in my rapidly destructing clothing for my nudity distracted him, he said.  The dear.  The movies showed Velociraptor as being man-sized pack-hunters with intelligence on a level with a Chimpanzee.  But only a part of that was true.  The longest were two meters long, as long as Paul was tall, but most of that was tail and so they stood barely 60 centimeters at the back with their heads not even reaching my waist.  And I am of average height for a woman.

But they were smart and did hunt in packs.  And that allowed them to drag down the much larger and stronger Sauropods and Hadrosaurs and anything else that came into their territory.  Not the adults but their young.  Even the pack of Dire Wolves and the local Smilodon avoided the raptors.

“Look here, Mussaurus, I believe.” Paul lectured.  “Triassic to early Jurassic but found in Argentina while the Velociraptor was from late Cretaceous Mongolia.  On the Outer World, they would never meet, separated by ten-thousand miles and dozens of millions of years.  But here, in Pellucidar, everything inter-mixes.”  I loved to hear him lecture.  But then, being a lesbian, the intellect of a nerd was far more attractive to me than the muscles of a brainless jock.  And sometimes, I could almost forget that Paul was a male. Sometimes… almost.  If it wasn't for that one thing that Paul had that no woman possessed… that one thing that I learned I craved when .. well when the Horned God Iarillo took my virginity in Russia…  The thought of that God raping me to climax after climax got me so wet…

“…their natural prey.  Andrews found a Velociraptor, not a true one, locked in a death fight with a protoceratops.  We always thought the raptor was stealing her eggs and she was defending her nest but maybe, they were predating on the ceratopsin?”  I forced my fingers away and forced myself to listen.  God! That man was so hot when he talked like this.  And the thing that made him so sexy was that he was totally oblivious to his female student's fantasies.  The poor nerd thought that I and they were interested in his words when the way he used them was what we wanted.  I had heard that all Trekkies, those who believed that the Television show Star Trek was real, had a Trek-novel in the works and the female Trekkies novels were erotica that centered around the overly logical and emotionless Spock.  Listening to Dr Philip Paul, Paleontologist and total geek, made me want to rip his clothes off and rape the shit out of him.

Paul took notes and made drawings, wishing for the hundredth time that we had a camera.  But he did appreciate the papyrus, quill pens and ink that I made for him.  Paul joked once that fire was man's greatest invention but, when he was looking over his notes, he often would praise me for inventing the materials with which to write.
 

We headed back, the raptors being full of sauropod, were hissing but mostly ignoring us so long as we avoided their sleeping areas.  Then at the top of the climb, we heard Albert honk.

Albert was an Allosaurus.  Ten meters long and the apex hunter up here in the hills where we lived, he was solitary and preferred to eat the hadrosaurs that migrated through our lands.  And aside from that one American cop he had eaten, Albert showed little desire to hunt us.  But then, we made certain that we were NOT in his field of view when he was hungry.

“That's different,” Paul commented.  “Do you think he's hurt?”

Albert normally sounded like a flock of angry watch-geese combined with a steam whistle but this was different.  Though somehow familiar.  So I shrugged, distracting Paul for I still hadn't been able to make a bra.  My old one had disintegrated with our entry into Pellucidar and women in my family are blessed, or cursed, with large breasts that remain firm long after other smaller women were lifting theirs off the floor.  The fact that I had the body of a twenty-year old was thanks partly to my fanatical exercise regime and mainly to the Regeneratives that I had found in Medieval Syria. The Sufi's and other Magickal Lodges made these to sell to finance their other, more important projects (though what could be more important than eternal youth I never learned).  So I looked young even though I was far older than Paul.

Wearing a sleeveless shirt that was tied beneath my ample breasts and shorts that barely covered my ass helped.  Even a lesbian likes to be noticed and Paul and I were the only humans here.  No other women at all which made Paul happy but me frustrated.

We packed the notes away and headed for Albert's territory which bordered mine.  Well, actually my territory was within that of a Dire Wolf pack but they accepted it because I peed on the bushes around my home and the wolves had accepted my intrusion.  So, technically, the Wolves, easily five feet tall at the shoulder, had a territory that bordered Albert's.  But the wolf territory was higher and colder than the Allosaur territory which was lower and warmer.  It all worked out.

We hid in some rocks that allowed us safety in case Albert wanted a snack, and watched.

He was screaming out into the lower plains that he rarely visited.  The food there was greater but also were the Saber-tooth Tiger prides (not the smilodon but something far worse) and the T-Rex and the other Allosaur packs and a dozen other predators that convinced Albert that a solitary existence up here was safer and easier.

“What the hell is he doing?”   Paul was being what he did best, the scientist.  Sometimes I had to keep him alive because he would walk into a smilodon lair without thinking, so engrossed was he with his work.

I shrugged then smelled the stink.  “Paul,” I always called him Paul.  Philip was too personal and Doctor Paul was too impersonal.  In return he called me Janice and not Duchess Obrien. But then, he wanted to marry me and I refused his every proposal.  It just wouldn't work.  How long would it be before he caught me with his secretary or the woman next door?  “Smell that?  That.. stink?  And look at his cheeks, there where his head meets his neck.  See the new bright colors?  Albert is in Rut and calling for a girlfriend!”

“Really?  Are you certain?”

“Didn't you ever own an iguana or other large lizard as a pet?”  All budding paleontologists owned iguanas and monitors.  The liked to put toy soldiers in their cage and pretend that they were watching dinosaurs in action.

“No.  My parents wanted me to be a dentist. I had to read my books in the library and hide them under my mattress.”

Laughing, I joked, “So that's why most of your papers are on dinosaur dentition.  Most kids hide stolen Playboy magazines.  You, my dear, hid dinosaur books.  What a nerd!”  But I loved that in the man.  So we lay there watching and munching on lunch as Albert cried to the world his frustration.
 

“Look!” Paul nudged me awake. I had dozed in the warm sunshine. Albert had stopped called and was listening.  I couldn't hear anything.  “His hearing must be more sensitive to lower sounds than are ours,” he was scribbling again and drawing Albert frozen with his head erect then low to the ground then back up.  Then Albert lowered and lay his head on the rocks.  “He's listening to the ground shake.  Feeling the vibrations of the sounds.”  Then Albert stood as high as he could and screamed again, then listened, repeating his call-and-listen a dozen times.

Then he got very excited and couldn't remain still.  “Reminds me of you when you get randy,” I commented.  “I have to give in just to stop you from begging.”  We had watched Albert masturbate for Albert had a hemi-penis, a single organ that bifurcated into two male parts.  He would squat down and rub himself against the ferns until he climaxed, then he'd flop down and nap.  I thought it was funny, Paul found it fascinating.  “I suppose we get to see them mate?” I suggested.

“I really hope so.  We've always wondered how they did that.”  He was getting excited himself.  Nerds!  A jock would invite his girlfriend over to watch porn in the futile hope that she'd get excited enough to want sex and be totally unaware of how few women find porn exciting.  Paul would watch the same movie, oblivious to the woman next to him as he took notes on the ‘mating habits of the Hollywood crowd’.

Eventually, we saw her.  A bit larger than Albert and duller in color, lacking Albert's now brilliant neck and back colors.  “I was wondering why he changed color recently,” I commented.  Like Albert, she was leaping like a kangaroo.  Paul insisted that Allosaurs walked like birds but here they leapt.  Maybe it was a peculiarity unique to Pellucidar.  After all, the Allosaur had become extinct on Earth 140 million years ago but living on down here, they probably continued to evolve.

“In the animal world, the male is often brighter than the female to attract a mate.”  He was lecturing again.

“Well, it would save me a fortune on cosmetics and clothing,” I mentioned.

“You are the one who invented lipstick and perfume and spent all that time making jewelry and a hairbrush when I am the only male here and you, my dear, have no need to show off to attract me.”

“Hmmmpf, I do that for me.”

“Like that first night when you got me drunk and made certain to wear perfume and lipstick and even brushed your hair…”  I hit him in the side.  “And you call yourself a lesbian.” He mumbled.

I didn't mind being a lesbian.  It was being a faggot that bothered me.  Despite being a pagan, my family is Catholic and once the Church gets its claws into you, that guilt never leaves.

“I think we should call her Cynthia,” I offered as the female passed by, ignoring both us and Albert.

“Why?”

Shrugging, “Why not?”  Paul generally gave in to my little ideocyncries on these matters.  Maybe it was because it saved him the trouble so he could focus on the important things like muscle attachments and how does a large sauropod pump blood so high without passing out?

Cynthia continued on, ignoring Albert until she found that wallow he had been digging.  She looked up to the eternal noon-day sun then noticed Albert Prancing.  He would strut, his chest out as he bobbed his head.  He cried, a light chirping sound, then rumbled deep in his throat, and then shake and repeat the entire sequence again. .  He reminded me of pigeons in the parks of Limerick.

Paul wrote down everything.  I drew pictures as I could and eventually Cynthia noticed Albert and watched him.  But every time Albert approached, she would snap at him and he'd back off and Prance more, each time she would allow him a bit closer.

“She is such a slut!” I commented.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, she came up here to get laid and intends to let Albert have his way with her.  Only now she wants him to work for it so she can convince herself that she is a good girl and he seduced her.”  He looked at me, remembering our first time as I continued, “Every woman knows within five minutes if she will say yes or no.  And if she decides no, there is nothing you can do to change her mind.  But if she thinks yes, it only takes one stupid comment for her to switch to no.  All our dressing up and flirting is only to make you work for it so we can pretend that we are still good girls.”

“And what are you?” he asked, also remembering how I had gotten us both drunk that first time together.

“Sleeping alone tonight,” I snapped back.

Eventually, Cynthia allowed Albert to approach and he nipped her neck and backed off.  She hissed, but not loud, so he approached and nipped again and after the third or fourth nip, she rumbled and squatted, resting her arms on the ground with her tail aside.

Albert approached, his hemi-penis erect and grabbed her back with his arms, bit her neck and lifting one leg, mounted her with the nearest penis, the other one dangling in the air seeking prey.

“Now!” I called, reaching back for Paul.  He hadn't noticed me stripping from my pants but I was so hot for that man I needed him now!  “Do me!” I begged, tugging at his pants.  He was shocked and tried to kiss me but I stopped that, bending over so I could watch Albert while being taken in a similar fashion.  “No time, just, hurry!”  I gasped as he entered, driving deep to prove that I was, in fact, more than ready.

I had to bite my shorts, smearing my lipstick, to stop from crying out in my excitement.  Then I moved in time with Albert until Paul got the idea and followed.  I had a dozen before I saw Albert begin to shudder and used my muscles to encourage Paul so we all climaxed together.  At least Paul, Albert and I had mutual orgasms.  I don't know if the female did.  And frankly, I didn't care all that much as I collapsed, pulling Paul onto my back and arching my hips so as to not loose his fading erection.  Damn! That was good!

Albert pulled out, sighed and collapsed to snore within seconds.  Typical male.  I had to stifle my laughter as Cynthia, her cloaca spassoming (maybe she did climax?) approached his wallow and began to scratch at the dirt.  I could hear Paul whisper in my ear, “she's making a nest,” his erection fading as his interest in the carnosaurs increased and his interest in me faded.  Damn!

Pushing him off my back, I grabbed our pants and notes, shoved them into the grass satchel I had made, then grabbing Paul's hand dragged him off.

“What?” he tried to fight but I snapped, “I am so hot for you right now if you don't come home with me and fuck the living shit out of me RIGHT NOW I SWEAR THAT I WILL DIE!!!!”

and he did.

I didn't even mind him thinking about the Allosaur pair while he did me.  I know I did.
 

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II. BEARS

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“Want to check up on the babies?” I asked Paul.

He was going over our notes on the hunting strategies of the Allosaur when I asked.  I was bored and wanted to get out.  Unfortunately, when you live in a cave fronted by bamboo walls surrounded by sharp stakes to discourage the dinosaurs that roamed inside a Hollow Earth, opportunities to go dancing were slim.  And being a Duchess, accustomed to having servants and wealth and my every whim satisfied, this primitive housewife existence was driving me crazy.  It reminded me of why I had left my husband.  Well, the truth be told, the only thing we had in common was our mutual desire to pick up women.  And as Alexii needed all his wealth and position to get the lowest barmaid interested, he resented my ability to convince even the occasional straight woman to my bed.

Paul glanced at his notes again, then seeing my look and the tone in my voice (the poor dear could learn, you just had to train a male like you would a puppy) put them away and agreed.  So while he was gathering his notebook and a freshly sharpened set of quills, I brushed my hair, checked my lips and dabbed some perfume while ensuring that my limited wardrobe set my assets off to their greatest advantage.  It wasn't a party at the Palace but it was better than sitting on the couch and wishing I could invent a television.

I had invented everything we had since Paul's Government had sent us here: paper, pens, ink, soap, lipstick, perfume, plumbing, furniture, bread, wine and so on to give a life that was really quite good.  And all with nothing but some volcanic glass and bamboo as a start.  Maybe a telly wouldn't be that difficult?

Then I took my obsidian spear and recurve bow and we left, tying the door closed.

We walked, holding hands which showed how lonely I was.  Goddess! Why couldn't there be any women down here?  Why did those police who sent me here have to choose an all-male team?  I was dying for lack of female companionship and love.

Stopping, Paul pulled his notebook and I readied an ink-pot for him as he sketched and noted some small elephants browsing among the bamboo.  “Phiomia, I think,” he commented.  He always ‘thought’ and rarely was certain, mainly because there is a big difference between seeing a few bones (so very few fossils are complete and most species known by a single bone) on a table and a living animal still wearing meat and skin.  I recall one zoologist describing the skeleton of an Indian Tiger in great detail until I pointed out the tail-hook which is the only real difference between lion and tiger skeletons.

While Paul was engrossed with the elephants, I kept an eye out for danger.  Paul had never faced anything more dangerous than a bully in school before coming to Pellucidar, while I had spent my entire life as a mercenary soldier-of-fortune.  Working for various governments solving problems that never made the news and chasing dangerous people or escorting people of considerable value to their enemies gave me an appreciation for always looking over my shoulder.   Although Jason was rich and had rebuilt the family fortune by hunting treasure and fighting in wars, I had refused to take any of the family wealth, preferring to earn my own way. And before inheriting Alexii's considerable fortune (which I am honest to admit that I earned on my back) I was still well-off and could afford to pay more for my shoes and clothes than most people spent on their autos.  But that all came at a price, and eternal vigilance and a questioning nature was that price.

“Those elephants are small, barely two meters at the shoulder.  And we are in wolf territory.”  I found a bush and sniffed.  “old.  The scent is almost gone.  Something chased the Dire Wolf Pack away.”

Paul mumbled something that indicated that he wasn't listening.  But then, males rarely listened to women.  That normally made my job very easy but here, much harder.  And, although I was no longer getting paid, my job was still to keep Paul alive and get him back to Earth when the StarGate opened again.  I made certain that he wasn't in any immediate danger and wouldn't do anything stupid like walk into that grove and get himself trampled.  In Kenya, I had seen a dozen men, well armed with the best modern weaponry and less than a hundred meters from a running lorry with open doors, think that they could safely shoot one bull elephant more than five-hundred meters away.

They didn't realize how thick an elephant's skull was and why elephant guns are considered heavy artillery at .75 caliber.  They also didn't realize how fast an elephant can walk.  Elephants cannot run, but they walk every fast.

Not one of them made it to safety.

So I looked around some more and found, at the base of a tree, shreds of bark.  Allosaurs like to reach up and tear the bark from a tree to mark their territory and to show how big they are.  Bears do the same.  But I never saw a bear here so maybe there was another allosaur moving into the area?  It was higher and rockier and colder than the carnosaurs preferred but if it was a young male seeking Cynthia or driven from the flatland plains by the alpha male, perhaps following her from the plains below, Albert may have driven him up here to starve and freeze.  If so, he wouldn't hesitate to eat us.  “Paul, it's time to go.” I called.

“In a minute,” he replied, not even hearing what I said.

Sighing, I approached and took his hands, looking up into his eyes.  “We need to go NOW!”  That got his attention and he glanced around, packing away his notes.  He was smart enough to not ask questions. Paul trusted me.  He knew that his country, among others, saw me as little more than a terrorist and international criminal.  But he also accepted that those same governments that condemned me in public, refused to arrest me and often hired me to do that which their own people were unable to accomplish.  Hence, my current assignment of baby-sitting an American Paleontologist 700 kilometers beneath the surface of the Earth.  I accepted the hypocrisy and simply raised my rates.  You can call me whatever you want, until you run out of money.  Then I argued back.. often in a violent manner.

I was leading him by a round-about way that would give maximum cover when we heard the growl.

Humanity considers itself the peak of evolution.  The top of the food chain.  But I had informed Paul, and many others, that we are somewhere in the middle.  We eat lots of things BUT, and this is important… more things eat us that we eat.  Everything from mosquitoes and leeches to big cats and bears and sharks to vampires and werewolves.

But there are some things that ARE apex predators.  Sharks.  Bears.  Allosaurs.  Even vampires are predated upon by werewolves and nothing eats a werewolf.  And that growl we just heard announced to the world, I am bigger and meaner than anything else so do your prayers.

“Run!”  I snapped and we ran for the rocks, squeezing between seconds before the Ursus Spaelus, the ancient Cave Bear,  reached us.  Paul was  shaking.  But then he often did that when we met a Dire Wolf pack or a Smilodon or Velociraptor flock or even a solitary Allosaurus like Albert that had tried to eat him.  But Paul would lecture and that calmed him down while he let me figure out a way to keep us alive.

“Ursus was only six feet tall and a vegetarian.  This thing is twice that size and wants to eat us.  A new species!  Ursus Spaelus Giganticus or would you rather Obrienses?  But only when you get us away alive.”  That one article ‘when’ showed how much faith he had in me.  I wished I were as confident.

The thing was reaching between the cracks of the rocks to get us.  And Paul was stuck.  I may have a forty inch chest, but four of those inches are fatty breast-tissue and were being mashed flat right now.  Paul had a forty-two inch chest and it was all rib-cage and couldn't compress at all.  Every time the bear reached for us, I stabbed at it with my knife made of volcanic glass.  It withdrew but returned even more angry.

“ok.” I panted.  “Paul, can you climb up a bit and out the back?  I think I saw daylight.”

He turned his head with some difficulty and said, “maybe, but I can't go forward.  Or up!  Maybe if I were closer to the opening…?”

“Then you had better hurry.  Get ready!  NOW!”  I moved to the bear, screaming and slashing with my knife which startled it enough to back away.  I suppose it figured the once I left the rocks, it could easily eat me in the open.

I heard Paul follow, then scramble upward and curse as he skinned his knees and elbows, then he called that he was free and I backed in fast.  The bear almost touched me and those claws would have opened me like a ripe tomato.    By the time I had reached Paul on the other side, my shirt was torn open and my back and breasts bleeding.

“Are you…?” he started but I snapped, “Run you twit!” and took off.

Paul kept up with me easily, his legs being longer than mine and fear being a great incentive.  For me, my boobs were bouncing so bad they hurt and I almost wanted to stop and face the bear over that ache.  I am not designed for this job.  Adventuring along the Glory Road requires a six-foot muscle-bound amazon with no tits.  I am a five-foot six-inch sexpot with a body that belongs in a porn film or in a slinky dress on the arm of some fabulously wealthy billionaire who is about to die from the heart-attack I will gladly give him in bed.

We ran, me leading through the densest bamboo and trees I could find.  I chose our route for two reasons, clear ground for us because the bear could easily run over rocks that would trip and break our legs, and dense forest that could slow it for even a few seconds.  I never once looked behind and hoped Paul didn't either.  In the cinema, the stupid heroes and heroines would run from the monster, look behind and trip over a root to be killed.  I didn't care if that bear was an inch behind or a mile behind, so long as we were ahead of it.  And although a bear can easily outrun a man on open ground, that one was so large that it had to slow to smash its way through the trees and bamboo.

Finally Paul realized where we were going and tried to warn me.  But both of us were near exhaustion and couldn't divert even enough breath for a warning.

We burst into Albert's nesting area and he snapped to his full size and hissed.  I never stopped running, aiming for the space between his legs, knowing that fully erect, there was easily enough room for us to pass between and under that belly.

Albert almost snapped us up but then saw the bear and ignored us as we ran between his legs and into the tree-line beyond.

We fell exhausted, then watched, unable to even roll over if even a squirrel wanted to eat us.

Albert was crouching, hissing in anger and moving around to a place between his nest, filled with buried eggs and rotting vegetation, and the bear.

The Bear, easily twice the size of the Outer-World Grizzly, stood erect.  The heads of both predators were on a similar level and neither had ever backed down from a fight because both knew that they were apex predators and had no enemies.  Cretaceous Allosaur facing Pleistocene Ursus.  I know people who would have paid a fortune to watch that fight.  I would have made a fortune taking bets but wasn't willing to give odds.

They postured, moved to position, then without a sound, Cynthia burst from the trees and in one mighty leap, was on the Ursus, knocking it to the ground with her weight.  Instantly, Albert had joined her and before the Ursus could even defend itself, Albert had torn its throat while Cynthia had raked its belly with her hind claws.  What I thought would be a titanic battle was over within seconds.

Then the pair fed.

Still panting and gasping for air, I took Paul's hand and led him away as quietly as I could.  Albert had a brain the size of an apple and his memory for things as inconsequential as we was short.  But if we remained near his nest, he'd hunt us down.

Eventually, Paul could talk and asked, “I need my notes.  Did you see how he kept the bear occupied while the female struck from its blind side?  That's proof that allosaurs hunted in lion-like packs.  One would probably move upwind and chase their prey while the rest of the pack would ambush the faster hadrosaurs who… We need to find that herd and watch them hunt…”

“Fine,” I managed to say.  My chest still hurting both from lack of air and bouncing boobs.  “But not right now.  I need to make a bra.  And sew the rents in my shirt.  And recover my spear and bow I dropped.  And a nap.  No a hot bath.”

I let Paul ramble about the importance of that theory but frankly, I was too busy holding my aching chest and wishing I had those tiny-tits that all the other women possessed.  There would be time enough for more research later.
 

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III. SHAVING

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I walked in on Paul unexpectedly.  I know I was unexpected because he was laying on the bed, naked, his hand in his lap, stroking himself to climax.  I smiled and watched a moment, then asked, “Are you happy alone or would you like some assistance?”

Paul instantly opened his eyes, turned red, let go and pulled his clothes over himself. “Janice… ah, I was …. What are you doing back so soon?”

“Soon?” I asked.  Time in Pellucidar is a function of exertion.  I put out a lot of energy and so was gone for at least a day.  You did almost nothing so time slowed for you and it was only minutes?  Hours? Here.  Now, sweetie, let's get back to my question.”

“Nothing, it's… SO! HOW WAS YOUR TRIP?”  The man was so embarrassed.

“Sweetie,” I started as I poured myself a mug of wine to give him a chance to dress.  “You do me at least twice a day.  We have a fantastic sex life but I know that you are still a male.  And males .. well if you could lick yourself like a dog, you would.  And no matter how often I give you sex or how good it is, you will still want an occasional quick climax without all the work a woman requires.  I'm not ashamed of it.  And I do not feel inadequate because you sometimes like to do that alone.  But if you want me to help or….”

Paul turned away and went to his desk, ignoring me as he pretended to work.  Men,   specifically American men!  They become embarrassed at the simplest things.  As much as he loved to see me naked, he'd turn away in shame if I saw him staring.

“Honey,” I wrapped my arms around him from behind, making certain he felt my breasts in his back.  “Really, why be embarrassed?  I used to do it all the time and mostly didn't care who watched.  So, can I?”

“Can you what?” he mumbled.

“Watch?”  I whispered in his ear.  “Watch you play with yourself?  Or should I say ‘jack off?  Choke the chicken? Masturbate or .. well what do you call it?”

“Janice, drop it please..”

“You can watch me? I can put on a show for you.  Undress myself slowly as I caress my body, telling you how it feels, sliding my fingers between my creamy thighs as…”  I could feel him grow hard but couldn't tell if it was my hands in his pants or my words in his ears.  From the lack of stickiness, he hadn't had time to finish.  But his breathing was faster and much more shallow.

So I continued, gently stroking him as I described what I would do with myself, and without warning, Vesuvius!  Most of the mess as on my hand and arm, some on his chest and the rest on the table and his papers.

As he frantically cleaned his papers, I licked my hand and forearm, “mmm, tastes delicious.  Almost as nice as when I lick you clean after you've had at me, thrusting deep….” He had lost interest with his climax.  Men!

I was thinking about this as I made him dinner.  Men loved to watch.  Men loved.. well they loved to cum and didn't much care how or where and the best I could hope for was that they clean up afterwards.  I glanced at our bed, the scene of his recent activity and noticed some papers on the floor, partially underneath.  As difficult as it was to make papyrus, we took care for the papers. It wasn't like Paul to be so casual so I went over and picked up after the man.  These were in my handwriting, doubtless some of my notes that I had made before Paul moved in.  Curious, I read  page at random;
….I slowly undid her blouse, one button at a time, enjoying the sensation of the silk running through my fingers.
“Please don't” she begged but her light touch on my hips gave lie to her words.
I saw a tear glisten in her eye and, tasting the saltiness, allowed my lips to caress her cheek as a moan of pleasure rumbled from her throat…..

Paul had found my erotica, those stories and desires that I had placed upon paper before and since we had met. Girl-on-girl porn was the most popular sexual imagery in men just as romance was for women.  Women dreamed of a while knight on a charging horse, men dreamed of their wife bringing home her hot sister.

“Paul, can you watch the dinner as I clean up a bit.  Thank you,”  Then I stripped as I walked to the shower.  I had recently managed to pipe water from a solar still to the cave when I had built a shower against an outside wall.  It saved us from having to walk downstream to the one I had first constructed.

It also gave Paul a chance to watch me as I carefully explored my body with fingers and soap.

I pretended that I didn't know he was watching but the thought that he was, got me so wet, I could have showered without water.  So I gloried in exploring my body, every touch brought a fantasy of my ideal lover, imagining that it were she who was touching my creamy skin.

When done, almost, for I stopped, frustrated but not completed, I exited the shower and dried with that one cloth I had finally made.  Then sat, naked, on the bed as I brushed my hair dry, imagining that she was running the brush through my tresses.  Her hands occasionally touching my shoulders, her nails along my neck.  I believe that I actually moaned.

Then, with one hand still brushing, my other explored my breasts.

Finally, I lay the brush aside and continued my explorations, teasing and touching, allowing my nails to lightly scratch my skin.

By the time I allowed myself to explore the Countess and her Courtyard, Paul had joined in so we two watched each other, though I admit that I gave a better show.  I had spent so many years jilling, exploring, learning, that I knew everything about my own body and what pleasures I could give to myself so that as I saw Paul approach climax, I made certain the my own long-delayed satisfaction matched his in time, though I wonder whose intensity was greater.

I came to him, on hands and knees, covered with sweat and licking his head, the smaller one, to taste what I had produced, asked him, “Did you enjoy that?  I know I so very much did!”

That was fun.  Often had I imagined that Paul was a woman with a strap-on, and being on my knees helped as I didn't see him but felt his entry.  Now, I had watched him and found the sight .. erotic.  Sexual, though not sensual.  I would reserve sensuality for myself and expect, as was normal, sexuality from my lover.  And, I determined to somehow teach him how to make his show less aggressive and more sensual.  Teach the man about sensuality and to prolong the act to give me a chance to include my own mental fantasies.

The possibilities were, to say the least, interesting.

And so we had dinner, me teasing and him red in face for he was still that nerdy prude who worked in a museum. And all my work to bring him out of his shell was… it was far more difficult to turn Paul into person than it was to find and forge metals.

“Paul, Honey.” I mentioned as I washed the dishes.  I enjoyed that task.  The hot water over my hands allowed tensions to fade, I could watch the outdoors and best of all, clutter became organization.  I may dislike dusting and washing clothed, and our limited wardrobe required a lot of careful washing, but I loved doing the dishes.  And the fact that I had manufactured every dish in my home added to the enjoyment.

I would wash a plate, remembering the clay I had found and thrown into plates and cups and bowels.  Wash glasses I had made from bamboo sections.  Flatware I had carved from horn and bone.  All that I possessed, was the effort of my own hands and that made me feel complete.

“Yes,” Paul was looking over a jawbone of some mammal-like reptile and never looked up, our recent explorations forgotten.

“I notice that you haven't shaved in days.”

“Yes,” he admitted in that voice that told me that he wasn't listening.

Some women like a scruffy man as some women love a hairy man and others love the muscles of the body-builder.  I liked women and part of the deal we had made was that in return for regular sex, he would remain clean of face.  He had a boyish body and little hair on his chest to enable me to occasionally pretend that he was a flattened she.  But this five-o-clock shadow was more than I wished.  Especially when that shadow grew to a darkness.  When I had first seduced him, he was dirty and ragged and bearded.  I had given him soap and cleaned his clothes, but I had to get myself drunk to bed him and that only because I was so desperate for a touch other than my own that I probably would have taken anyone, anything.

Paul didn't mind how he looked, our single mirror wasn't as good as I would prefer.  But I did.

So, taking his hands away from his work, it was the only way to ensure that he actually listened to me, I began.  “Paul, honey, our deal was simple.  Aside from my supplying you with paper and pen and ink and helping you with your research (Paul was a paleontologist stuck in Pellucidar) and keeping you alive, I promised to be sexy and sexual.  To be attractive for you and to meet your fantasies and to always look good for you to the best of my ability.

“Now I know that I haven't been able to make steel or even bronze but I feel that you have fallen down on your part.” I ran my fingers over his beard.  Fortunately, not being the testosterone jock I detested, Paul took days to appear.. bad and what he did have wasn't dark and rough as on many other men.  Maybe his lack of testosterone that prevented the muscles of the others in our former team also made him easier to handle?  No!  If that were true, he'd not be so fanfuckintastically sexual.  He simply inherited few of the ‘caveman’ genes that some women preferred and though not large ‘down there’, what he did have worked very very well and very often.  So his body DID produce the necessary male hormones, they were simply diverted to more important locations.

It took a moment for him to understand and he apologized.  “I'm sorry, dear, but shaving with glass shards (he meant the obsidian flakes I gave him as I replaced my tools) is painful.  Ill try more often.”  He kissed me, lightly for his beard scratched terribly.

“Thank you,” I said as I returned to my cleaning.  I had had female lovers who demanded that I shave ‘down there’ for them for they disliked licking a hairy twat as I disliked kissing a hairy face.  And I understood the pain and problems and hard work keeping myself bare for them.  Plus it itched so much as it grew back.  I was so happy that Paul didn't mind my lush bush, my hairy outer lips and even the faint hair on my legs.

But then, sometimes I thought that the man was so desperate for female companionship that I could be two hundred pounds and butt-arsed ugly and he'd be grateful.

“Sweetie,” so easily these false endearments came to me now.  “I think that I saw some copper uphill.  Maybe we can smelt some to a knife or razor? It isn't much but perhaps?”

“Can you make bronze?” he asked.

“Maybe.  Bronze is simply adding between point-five percent to fifteen percent tin to melted copper.  I have pottery.  If I can find tin…?”  I had no idea of what tin looked like in the wild.  The first iron forged came from stony-iron meteorites but in a hollow world, meteorites struck seven hundred kilometer beneath our feet.  If any entered through the presumed polar openings, they'd land far away.  I only saw that copper because it was an almost pure nugget.  Obsidian was plentiful here, flint almost unknown and I could stumble over iron ore and not recognize it.

“How about tomorrow, we go dig it up?” he offered.

I took that as him acknowledging my needs and was so happy, I resolved to make him something special.  He hated the nectar-dipped grasshoppers I ate with relish but a fruit and meat pie?  I was a poor cook but maybe could bake that for him?
 

Later, he kissed me and knew that I forced myself to kiss back.  “That bad?”

“I'm sorry, dear.  But… well almost every man that tried to rape me in Europe  had a beard.  From that Sarmatian Khan that I killed as he sought entry while holding me down under his whale-like bulk to that Turk I had flogged in Georgia to… They were … I'm sorry, I do care for you so will try harder to respond.”  I kissed him back, forcing myself to ignore the stubble.  I am very good at faking with a man.

But Paul pulled away. “Surely there must be something we can do.  I hate seeing you like this.”  He knew that I sometimes faked with him.  Most men didn't care so long as they were allowed entry but Paul actually cared.  “How do women deal with it since you have to shave your legs?”

“Most women shave or use creams and if I could make a cream to remove hair, I would.  I used it in Europe but it wore off after all these years.  Then there is a bikini wax…”

“I've heard of those,” he said, curious.  “Something that makes you look like .. Hitler, down there?”

I laughed at the image.  “Exactly.  Some women have to remove too much pubic hair to wear modern swim-suits and underwear.  It often reaches a point where they have only a tiny Hitler bush above their pussy.  Others remove everything and resemble a child too young for love.  I had a small-breasted lover who shaved to all off and I refused to touch her, she so looked like a young child.  And I prefer my women, to look like women.

“Me too,” he groped for my breasts, which I enjoyed too much to demand he cease.  But it was distracting and as I lost myself in his caress, he continued, the beast. “So, about this bikini wax.  Would it work on me?”

Thinking was difficult now but I managed to say, “Maybe.  I think that the Aussies have something like that.”

“How does it work?” he was sliding his hands all over my breasts, deliberately avoiding the nipples for fear I'd loose control.  Gods it was distracting and very very pleasurable.  Most men attack the nipples instantly.  I had trained Paul to caress my skin and work towards my points.  It took some time but rewarding a man for good work was so much more productive than complaining.  And if he occasionally forgot, well that was a welcome and pleasant surprise.

Breathing so heavily I almost passed out, I so needed his magnificently hard cock inside my throbbing, wet, cunt…  Yes, at that time I wanted my cunt fucked and fucked hard!  But the bastard fought me off, asking again as if from a distance… “How?”

“What?” I pulled his hands away.  Then holding them away to calm down, he leaned forward and licked my nipples and I climaxed!  The wonderful bastard!

“You were saying about a bikini wax?  It can't be as bad as I think since you women get it down on your privates all the time. Maybe that is a solution?”  The poor stupid ignorant dear.  But after that torture, I wanted to reciprocate.

“Well, you take melted wax and apply it to the hair you want removed.  Then cover with some cloth and when it dries, you pull the wax off and it pulls the hair from the roots.  It takes some time to regrow.”

“Sounds painful but if you can endure it on your sensitive areas,  I suppose I can too on my less-sensitive areas.”

The poor foolish twit.  He had no idea of the pain women endure to look good.  Eyebrow plucking, bikini wax, dermabrasion, collagen injections, breast implants and the dozens of other invasive and dangerous procedures that women endure for superficial appearance.  Fortunately, I refused them all. The worst I did was to shave my pussy lips for her, leaving a thick and natural bush in front.  I wanted to look good but there was a limit and I refuse to even pluck my eyebrows and I would shave the Countess only because women refused to lick me au natural.  Men didn't care and after some training on what to do and how and when, Paul enjoyed the act as much as did I, and he never cared that I was as hairy between as I was before.

But I was in a cruel mood and asked, “Are you certain?  Men have such low thresholds of pain.”  The truth is that they didn't. Women just wanted them to think that they did.   After one premature natural childbirth, I swore to never again without drugs.  Those women who paid for piercing to their clit and tattoos to their breasts and natural childbirth needed to be put away!  I've given birth in a medieval  Polish castle where the Church insisted that women should give birth in pain and misery as atonement for Eve's sin.  And I've been tortured and raped and flogged and a dozen other pains and honestly, pain is pain!  Women who brag about the pains of childbirth are simply trying to make men feel guilty to get expensive presents  from a guilt-ridden male.  Alexii gave me some very expensive presents after I gave him a son and I ensured that those gifts kept coming.

“Honey,” he insisted, “I am prone to kidney stones.  I think I can handle a little hot wax.  I’ve spilled enough making molds.”

“Ok, my dear, but let’s play it as a game.  I’ll tie you naked to the bed and be naked and tease you and if you do not cry out, I’ll give you a blow-job!”  He knew I hated doing that.  And I knew he wanted that.

“Do you scream?” he asked.

“I never had the courage to try.  I may be into being tied up and an occasional spanking when I am a bad girl (damn my lack of a Catholic school girl outfit), but I am NOT into pain. Remember that I was tortured when younger.  It takes a lot of trust on my part to let you tie and blindfold me.

“OK, if you insist, I’ll get things ready.” And left.  This would be fun.
 

As Paul worked, I melted beeswax and collected bamboo leaves.  And ropes.  And when the wax was melted, pulled Paul to the bed and said, as I tied him down, “Wax melts at 180 degrees fareinheight.  But that is barely hot enough.  Too hot and it burns. So people who play with candles must hold the candle high to allow the drops to cool before striking the body.  Is this comfy?” I asked as I rubbed his erection with my lower lips, not allowing entry.

“Very,” he replied as he tried to thrust upwards, I rising to prevent his desire.

“I meant the ropes,” I admonished and rubbed my wetness across over his hardness.  I would need both him hard and me wet if what I planned went wrong.

“Fine, my love.”

I began to slather melted beeswax across his face asking, “Is this too hot?”  I was genuinely concerned.

“Fine.” He said.  “Hot but not too hot.”  I was making certain that I was covering every hair with the beeswax and before it could harden, pressed leaves into the wax and covering it with another thin layer.

When I had a dozen or so strips ready, I kissed him, he looked so funny with all that wax and leaves stuck to his face, and asked, “Are you certain?  We can stop now.”

“Janice, if it makes you happy for me to be clean-shaven, then this is our main option until we smelt that copper. Go ahead.”

The poor deluded fool!  So I sighed, kissed him one more time, slid onto his waiting erection, took hold of a leaf and, smiling as I milked him with my lower muscles, pulled!

“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!! GOD FUCKING MOTHER OF GOD!!!”  I could hear birds flap away in panic.

“Shh, sweetie, only a few more!  Then I will make you so happy…”

I pulled again and he screamed so loud, Albert must have heard.  His erection was gone and before I could pull the third leaf he was begging me to stop. “Anything, please, anything you want, OH GOD NOOOO!!!!!”

“Don’t be a pussy!  You act like a little girl!”  When I was done, he was sobbing.

“Please, Janice, no, more.  Anything!  I swear!  I’ll shave twice  day.  I’ll even wear a dress.  But please no more!”

I suppose I had better build a forge for that copper ore.  Still, he didn’t ask me to shave my legs, I noticed!
 

---

IV. APES

---

I saw the ape-men before they saw me.  I believe it was luck for they were the better hunters but I had the advantage of knowledge of terrain.  Also when you are smaller than almost everything in Pellucidar, you learn to walk softly.

There were three of them and the strange thing was not that they looked like real ape-men or a cross between an ape and a man, but that they wore clothes, a breastplate and helmet of hardened leather and stone weapons, a spear and axe.  They were obviously soldiers and that meant an organized government.

Resources in Pellucidar would be poor.  With no seasons to allow the land to lay fallow and recover, any intensive farming would quickly use up the soil which is why I was alternating crops.  Then with the soil barren, the people would have to move on which would prevent the growth of cities and the subsequent technical advances that a city would develop.  Thus, Pellucidar would be locked into something akin to the Red Indians of Paul’s America without even the Meso-American civilization of the Mayan or Aztec.  And small bands of hunter-gatherers could never need or produce soldiers.

I discussed this with Paul as we made plans.  They were obviously searching for something and I feared that something was us.

“I don’t understand how you can know so much without any formal education?”  He knew that I had never attended any school.

“When you are being raised for political marriage, formal schooling is a waste of time and money.  So women were taught at home to read and write and do simple math and anything else was up to us.  When I traveled, I made certain to learn as much as I could.  And I don’t think that my lack of a College Education, much less a High School or Elementary School Diploma has harmed me any.”  I felt that for most people, formal education was a waste when a good industrial school would be better utilized. I never knew a waitress or store clerk or plumber that needed a PhD.  And despite Paul’s American insistence that everyone should go to college, most jobs in America were still relatively unskilled labour that could easily be learned on-the-job.

“Besides, my dear, I earned all my wealth by my own efforts.” I stopped his comment on my marrying for money and continued, “And it was I, not Alexii, who read and wrote all of his legal contracts and it was I who successfully argued against university educated lawyers and accountants.  It was I, not my illiterate husband, who turned his multi-million dollar empire into a billion dollar empire (in modern dollar value).”  True, after he died and I inherited everything, I chose to sell off everything that I felt was unethical or illegal.  And what was left gave me assets worth nearly 800 million American Dollars.  Had I been less generous to my friends and lovers, and kept my own wealth, I’d be one of the world’s few billionaires.  And all without any real education while Paul, with a PhD, had to drive an old used car and patch his own clothes.

“So what are they doing up here and what civilization could exist here under the conditions you believe to exist?”

“I don’t know but I intend to find out.  Remain here, please and I’ll be back when I learn something.”

Instantly he took me in his arms and tried to argue.  His natural chivalry was heartwarming but misplaced.  “Paul, which of us is the provider and hunter and fighter?”

That bothered him and if I pushed too far, he’d do something stupid to prove that he still had his manhood.  “I know you are a man.  You prove it to me every night and I LOVE that aspect of you almost as  much as I love your mind.  But this is my job.  This is why they sent me here.  So relax, write your book and I’ll be back soon.”  I kissed him, then wiped my lipstick from his face and started to leave but he stopped me.

“Paul,” I was exasperated and needed to leave soon or they’d be here or gone.

“No, honey, I know you do it all and I survive because of you and I just..”  He handed me a piece of bone.  It looked like a leg bone that had been sectioned and when I looked it over, Paul had carved a heart and a shamrock into the thing.  “It’s a ring.  I know you like jewelry and there wasn’t a store here so…”

I stared at it for so long he tried to take it back, “I know it’s ugly and you’d never wear anything like this anywhere.”

“NO!” I snapped.  “No, it’s, it’s, Paul I love it!”  and slipped it on finger after finger seeking one that would fit.

“Try this one,” he held my left hand and it fit the third finger easily.  I just looked at it then kissed him and wanted to take him to bed so much but he insisted, “If you need to watch them, you’d better go before the sun sets.”

I laughed for the eternal sun of the hollow Earth never moved.  So I kissed him and, after promising to be careful, left.  He had a few days food on hand and I planned to be back long before dinner.  I was scouting, not going  on a long military campaign.

---

I was in a tree, watching the three.  Sogoths?  Maybe.  I remembered reading some of the stories about Pellucidar that mentioned Sagoth ape-men who were slaves of the Mahar Pterosaurs.  There were three sentient reptilian races that I knew of.  The Demons from ten-thousand light years away.  They had abducted humans a thousand years ago but chose to become allies.  They had also abducted Jason and changed his DNA, thus my present predicament.  Then there were the Reptilians which owned Earth and were said to be from the Draco Constellation.  Jason believed that the had created Caspak to test human evolution.   They also had abducted humans and the result were the Grays and the Lyrans and a future war when they reclaimed Earth.  I had only read about the Reptilians.  And finally the Mahars, descended from pterosaurs in Pellucidar and the supreme race down here.  David Innes was supposed to have broken their hold but he also mentioned that they all flew north as he destroyed their cities which implies another Mahar civilization somewhere north of where David settled.

But then, how could the reptilian Mahars build a civilization when the geology of Pellucidar prevented that?  Even the Spanish Corsairs that arrived here a few centuries ago had not been able to advance, and in many areas, actually degenerated as they were unable to exploit the few resources and were forced to raid others for even food.

The three were arguing in an ape-like speech that sounded almost human.  I hoped that they would be too heavy to climb but I think I remembered that they could travel through the trees as easily as a gibbon.  I chose to not test them.  And my bow was the only technical advantage I had since they were larger, stronger and outnumbered me.  I had obsidian, never finding any flint nor metals while they had flint spears and axes and knives.  But no bows.  And my bow was horn-&-sinew and though barely a fifty pound draw, was still powerful and accurate enough to drive my glass arrowheads through their leather and I was an excellent enough shot to put arrows through their eyes, if I wished.  Hopefully before they climbed my tree.

Damn! I wished I could understand their language.

One pointed to some tracks and said “Tarag”, while mimicking saber-teeth with his fingers.  At this, they all became nervous.  Once, I had visited the plains and watched a pride of the giant saber-tooth tigers (not the smilodon of the Outer-World) take down a small herd of sauropods.  They did it out of pure visciousness and left most of the meat to rot.  I can understand why the Sagoths were afraid.  They didn’t know that up here in the mountains, the Tarag was smaller and solitary. They argued a bit and then the leader forced them to continue on until they found a pile of Cynthia’s dung.  One tasted it, looked for her tracks then called back, “Jalgor” while mimicking long arms and three-toed claws.  Their language seemed to be a combination of words and signs. Or maybe they used signs to communicate with their Mahar masters?  I think I recall the Mahars being deaf and mute. And the one I saw watching us some time ago never gave me a chance to communicate.  Fortunately, before agreeing to this mission, I studied as much as I could about Dinosaurs because we thought the StarGate went into the past.  Had we known it went to Pellucidar, I would have reread the stories that Burroughs wrote about the place and been better prepared.

The three argued for some time, then the two managed to convince their leader to turn around and go back.  Facing both Saber-tooth tiger and allosaurus packs was not what they wished to do.  Somehow the knowledge that their beliefs about the mountain biota were wrong comforted me.  We Europeans are raised on the belief that those in the Third World are so poor because they are, somehow, intellectually, physically and morally inferior to us and so are needing and deserving of our help and guidance.  And when their nations achieve or are given independence, watching them fail at international economics and rudimentary health care is comforting to our ideas and beliefs of superiority.  I know, Paul would argue with his American beliefs of the equality of man, that our beliefs simply justified our decisions to Empire-Building.  But we also believe that primitives are somehow so adapted to their environment that they can tell everything from almost nothing.  The Sagoths, making such a fundamental mistake as assuming that the mountain types of animals are the same as the lowland was both disconcerting and comforting at the same time.

So I decided to follow and learn more.  Also perhaps I could add to their store of misinformation which would make us safer from their masters.

As they left, I took stock of myself.  My shirt having been shredded by that cave-bear and my pants finally succumbed to the elements, I had finally managed to design a brassier to contain and support the ladies.  It was not that difficult as I had worked with my Irish seamstress for some time to design one that worked.  Men who design the things are engineering a construction project, not designing clothing that is comfortable and productive and attractive.  They think that if they add a pink bow or scalloped edging, it makes us happy.

But then, most men think a bunch of flowers and sex solves any problem.

Still, the basics of a bra are the same.  Three parts, each with a purpose.  The Band is the main support feature and everything builds from there.  Then the Cups provide a shelf and binder with the straps being almost inconsequential.  A good band and cup makes the straps immaterial.  A bad band and cups require more strapping to shift the load.

Unfortunately, before the invention of elastic, the only band possible was a whalebone corset which did wonders as a support but could not adjust to an expanding belly and ribs so breathing was minimal and fainting became all the rage as the delicate flowers of womanhood passed out from lack of oxygen.  Elastic allowed for the removal of the corset and encouraged breathing.  So I had to design a decent band from animal skin.  I did this with a four inch band that went from just below my breasts to my diaphragm and laced in the front.  It was far from perfect but worked to an extent.

Then the cup bottoms were thick leather to provide a shelf upon which the breasts actually rested.  Each was curved for a natural shape and attached to leather panels in the band.

Another set of thin and soft leather covered the shelf and the breasts themselves to provide containment so they didn’t bounce off the shelf.

And as the band I built wasn’t able to fully support the structure, I had to add wide straps to shift some of the stress to my shoulders and back.

My first attempt made Paul stare then laugh with comments like “you look like a cheap dominatrix who needs to learn to sew.”  But it worked.  And the effect gave me a push-up effect and amazing cleavage.

Over this monstrosity I added soft fur to look good.

Then I worked on pants and used the remains of my short and pants to provide a removable and washable cotton liner.  Women leak and leather doesn’t breathe so women who wear leather panties all the time develop rot in their panties and infections up inside.  And frankly, I hadn’t yet developed yogurt to shove inside to cure that so wanted something to prevent said problems.  Cotton panels did the trick.

When I showed Paul that design, he stared, then he raped me.  That’s when I knew I was on the right track.  Support, comfort and sex appeal.  I looked the ideal of the sexy barbarian girl that filled the comics read by adolescent males.

Added to this was a belt to hold a few necessary items like a bag containing a fire starter and a few flakes of obsidian, a sling and some more panels (I never menstruated so didn’t have that problem) and my glass knife.  My purse made of woven grass slung over one shoulder and rested on the opposite hip. A gourd of water and a quiver around my back and chest, my horn-&-sinew recurve bow and finally a heavy spear for self-defense and I was ready.

My only concessions to my former life were my lipstick and perfume.  I argued that the lipstick prevented sunburn and chapping while the floral perfume masked my scent from the predators but honestly, I just liked those aspects of femininity.

All in all, if I were captured or even seen, I would be mistaken for some local cave-bimbo and so worthless save as a moments pleasure.  Before, my clothes would have screamed ‘advanced technology, grab her and torture information from her!’  And I wasn’t afraid of rape for despite a dozen or more attempts over the years,  some very close, the only men who ever succeeded in forcing me were gods.  And when the God pointing an erection at my chin were the Horned Gods to whom I prayed, the act was more me submitting than being forced.  After all, look at what happened to me when I angered a Sarmatian god in whom I didn’t believe.  What could happen to me if I angered a God I believed in terrified me.

And if I was caught, I may not have my Belt but I had fought and won against Black Belts in a dozen Arts and I was alive and free because those who attacked me died!  Still, I had never faced someone the size of a gorilla and preferred to avoid combat if possible.  And I had learned to be very quiet when tracking my meals or being tracked by the various cats, wolves and carnosaurs that inhabited my home.

Strange that, I thought as I dropped to the ground and followed the Sagoths.  I had lived in castles and palaces but those belonged to my father, my brother or my husband. This cave that I had found and improved was the first place I could actually call my own.  Even Paul was little more than an invited guest, be that invitation one to enter my house or body and I knew that I could revoke both at any time.  And when you knew that you were raised to support the family in any manner the family needed, be it political marriage or economic donation or even as an organ donor, that thought was empowering indeed.  And, like Jason, I donated a large part of my personal fortune to the family coffers.  Damn! I’d miss the freedom of this place when I went back to Ireland..

Following them was not as easy as I thought.  Even though they had no fears, a lifetime of caution made them careful.  I paused to look over the trail and plucked a flower for my hair.  Right or left side?  That was important as the one indicated freedom and availability, the other marriage.  Not remembering which was which (it had been so long since I had visited Tahiti or Hawaii) I slid it between my breasts and chose a direction that I hoped was right.

Occasionally, I would turn round to note the scenery so I could get back for in a world without horizon, there were different landmarks.  And I blazed my trail often. My first time onto the plains I had gotten lost and it took what seemed to be a month to find my way back.  So I no longer took chances and made certain that Paul did the same.

Damn!  I chose wrong! I climbed a tree to look around and saw nothing so returned to the ground and flipped a coin, metaphorically, of course, as to go back or cut across.  Cut across won.

The problem now was to go fast enough to catch them, but slow enough so they didn’t catch me.  I came across a game trail and that made my choice easier.  Given a choice, everyone will naturally choose to follow a game trail over fighting their way through underbrush.  And as game trails wander all over the place, you spent thrice the distance than if you went as the crow flies.  So I was following it when I heard a twig snap and was into the brush instantly.  People who stand around and ask, ‘what was that’ die early in Pellucidar.

My three Sagoths approached, accompanied by two more and a group of three human captives.  Maybe we weren’t being searched for but were simply the potential victims of a random slave raid?

The prisoners were the ones being clumsy.  Being dragged at the end of a rope made one less than willing to walk lightly.  As they passed, I noticed that the prisoners looked fully human.  The two men sported long hair and full beards along with dark hair on arms and legs.  I had spent so much time ensuring that Paul shaved that I forgot how dog-like men really were.  One wore a tiger-skin loin-cloth, the other a skin of some animal that covered his chest and loins.  The woman, girl really, was young and her deerskin crossed one shoulder, leaving her right breast bare.  I stared at this for she was the first woman I had seen in months and I felt like Robinson Crusoe discovering Friday.  I may have even drooled. She was thin and shapely and the fine hair on her legs, arms and armpits showed that she never had reason to cleanse those areas. Well, neither did we Irish until fashion revealed more and more skin.  My own body hair was fine and fair and Paul never seemed to notice or complain though I did pluck my pits.  Her one exposed breast was small, possibly a b-cup, and was beginning to show the signs of gravity, but I so wanted to kiss that orb… and have her kiss mine.

The group passed and I waited.  Military tactics required a point and flank and rear guards but of these I saw or heard one.  Eventually I realized that they had none and the five I saw were all.  This would make my rescue all the more difficult.  When in Vietnam, Jason was a Special Operations archer who was helicopter’d into the North carrying only a machete, a canteen and a bow with which he would hunt the Ho Chi Minh Trail.  When he ran out of arrows, he would return to Saigon and relax until another shipment of arrows arrived.  He hunted by killing the point and dragging the body off the trail before the column arrived, then killing the flankers and the rear, thus whittling down the army until he was ready to face the remainder who always outnumbered and outgunned him.  He only lost once and escaped from that prison camp by killing everyone who stood between him and freedom.  He also rescued three dozen Americans, ten Brits and two Aussies and was known for accomplishing the only successful mass escape during the entire Indo-China war.

With the Sagoths grouped so tightly, and my not knowing how difficult it would be to kill them with my arrows, my tactics would have to be different.  I wished I had one to test. But this group may also be moving to join a much larger group so my time may be limited.

I followed until they stopped for lunch by a stream and when one removed his breastplate and entered the brush, I shot him in the neck as he squatted.  A grunt and he collapsed as the molecular edge of the glass arrowhead severed juggler and trachea.  I waited for the others to call and when one came looking for his companion, I removed him as well.

After watching them walk on their short bandy legs, I was confidant that I could outrun them though I wished that I had take the time to tame a wolf-cub or three.  In Ireland we were breeding the Irish Wolfhound into the Irish Warhound, a breed designed to kill British troops, until the death penalty was raised for anyone possessing such an animal.  And their entire family.  A pack of tamed and trained Dire Wolves would be welcome about now and  I regretted not trying.

I waited, then a third arrived and died, but not easy and the remaining two were alerted and discovered me.  I ran with them following and leapt the rope I had strung, a rope that they missed and tripped, one striking the sharpened stakes I had set.  He screamed and thrashed as his friend rolled him over and then, with a growl followed, leaving his fellow to live or die.

If he caught me, I’d die slowly and horribly and that gave wings to my feet.  And I recall during that chase being sooo glad I had made that bra.  My large-D chest was made for fun, not sports and unlike my mother and sisters, I had returned to normal size and firmness after my pregnancy.

I easily left the Sagoth behind and circled back to the slaves, whom I freed with a few slashes of my knife.  The men armed themselves from the dead and when the last Sagoth arrived, he faced two armed men and me.  Even then, he almost won and only the three arrows I sent into his legs and arm slowed him long enough for the cave-men to kill it.

I pointed to the brush and said, “Sagoth” and the two men ran off to find and kill the one I had injured with my trap, leaving me with the young lovely.

Smiling, I approached and said in Gaelic, “Hello, my name is Janice Obrien, Duchess Obrien.  But you can call me Janice,”   as I took her hands in mine.

She smiled back and said something too fast for me to understand, then smiled, touched herself and said, “Hitmyl.”

Not a very attractive name for such a lovely person but, a pleasant endearment would fix that.  "Janice,” I replied.

She hugged me which got me a bit excited.  Too excited for I moved too fast and she pushed my hands away and backed off, staring.

Before I could try to repair the damage and try another method of seduction, the men returned.  The younger took Hitmyl in his arms, the other, harrier where his tiger shin revealed too much skin, approached.  Wonderful, the first woman I see on this planet and she’d married!  I briefly thought of asking to join into a threesome but her husband was hairy and  so totally unattractive that it made me glad that Paul wasn’t so physically masculine.. except where it counts.  Did I mention that I was gay?

If not, the next event confirmed that.  The biggest and hairiest of the two men smiled at me, thumped his chest and said “Thag!”  He looked me over, strutted a bit then reached for me.  At least he didn’t do the ‘strike the woman with a club and drag her back to his cave’ bit.  I backed away and the married couple laughed, stopping when Thag growled at them.

Hitmyl’s husband said something, then pointed across the plain, then when he realized that I didn’t understand, repeated with hand motions to show that he and Hitmyl lived yonder and were going home.  Thag said something similar and pointed in the same general direction so I pointed upland and said, “I live up there.  But you are welcome to visit if you please.”

Hitmyl and her husband talked, then he shook his head and indicated that they would leave and so stripped the bodies of food and weapons and left.  Thag thought a moment then laughed and pointed to my place as if to say, “Sure, I’ll stay with you for a bit.”  Dammit!  I wanted the girl and got the ugliest man.

So Thag and I headed home with him teaching me the language as we did.  This was mostly him pointing to something and saying its name over and over until I got it right.  Since I was already fluent in a dozen languages, this wasn’t difficult at all.  He also pantomimed verbs and somehow most of his nouns and verbs centered around my breasts, his and my genitals and the act of sex.  I wasn’t raised to be stupid and understood that I was stuck with some Neolithic jock and I HATE jocks!  So I chose a long way home until I could figure out what to do.

Eventually, we crossed the trail of a Dyryth or giant ground sloth which Thag instantly attacked.  I tried to stop him but he was adamant and after a massive battle that I found disgusting, he killed the thing and proceeded to hack away at the neck until the head fell free.  He also removed the claws and placing these into his own pouch, presented to me the trophy of his kill with some ceremony.  I suppose that this was the Pellucidaran equivalent of a proposal as he got quite perplexed when I refused the disgusting thing.

He dragged it along for some time until we reached a stream where she washed it, then stripped and bathed, making a show of ensuring that I saw how large he was as he took care with his genitals that soon reacted to his ministrations.  And large he was.  Twice Paul’s at his best and thick!  But somehow, after being with a God, it still looked puny.  But I generally preferred normal to a bit smaller as men that large tend to rush things in their ego and not give a woman time to relax enough.  Small men are more insecure and so far more considerate of their partner’s pleasure.  Plus, smaller opened up far more options without the pain or aches a larger member would force.

He did not like that.  I suppose he wasn’t used to rejection and I had rejected both his prize and his manhood in the same day.  Then he yawned and built a fire to cook some of the Dyryth meat which we both ate and as I cooked, he made a large bed of ferns and brush near the fire.  I understood that in the eternal noon of Pellucidar, the fire was to drive away danger as we slept so I made my own, smaller bed on the opposite side.

Normally I sleep naked and enjoyed waking up with Paul enjoying himself but this time I slept clothed and with my knife nearby.
 

I awoke with a hand on my breast and almost found myself grasping to move it under my bra when I realized….  “Get the fuck away from me!” I snapped in Gaelic.

Thag was naked and was approaching before he approached and the state of his arousal left no doubt of his intentions.  Paul I desired.  He was only the second man I had ever truly desired and Thag was so far below I would sooner consider a dog.  Being with Thag would be the same.

I reached for my knife to find him smiling, then holding it and casually tossing it away as he reached for me again.  My former clothes would have simply torn and I’d be able to run, but I made this bikini/bra too well and he easily pulled me to him by my cup.  With one hand holding my top and the other my hands to my sides, he raped my mouth with his and when I tried to kick him, he twisted his hips and I missed.  Stupid on my part as this is the first defensive move any male learns.

I had been told that when rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it.  But I didn’t submit when that Sarmatian Khan tried to rape me and I didn’t relax when those Romanians tried and I didn’t any other time and had no intention to relax this time either.  I’d make the bastard work for his pleasure even if it cost me.

I know, I was being stupid.  I should have stopped fighting, lay back, thought about whatever it took to get me wet enough  to ease painless penetration, then waited until he went to sleep to fetch my knife and slit his throat.  But I fought and bit.

 He didn’t like being bit as he pulled back and slapped me.
 

I woke up, my neck and face sore, to find that he had cut my clothes from my body and was spreading my legs, his giant prick ready to tear me apart.  His beard was bloody and his lip torn and I hoped his tongue was the same.  Then he laughed and I begged, “No, please, not like this.  Let me on my knees?”  I tried to roll over and this he allowed but held my hair so I couldn’t run which was my plan. At least I’d not be able to see him as he forced me.

He waited, then I felt him grab my hips with one hand and press into me, hurting me as he began penetration for I was dry and tight.  The gods who took me were larger but I was ready and wanting. This was different and as he was focused on seeking entry, I rose up fast and struck with the back of my head as hard as I could, heedless of the pain in my neck.  I saw stars again but heard him scream as I connected with his nose.  He let go and I was away.  Deja vu!  I had killed that Sarmatian Khan and ran across the field naked, chased by his followers and now I was naked again, being chased by a very angry caveman.

I ran and Thag chased me, I wishing it was dark but knowing that darkness would come when he caught me.  “Calm down you stupid bitch!” I screamed to myself.  “This isn’t the first time and won’t be the last so get over it and think!”

Albert?  It had worked for the Cave Bear.  Or maybe the raptor pack again?  I ran forever then realized that I was screaming and was near my cave.  I tried to turn away but couldn’t and then Paul was there, holding my extra spear, thinking that I was being chased by some animal.  I tried to run to him, to warn him to run, but Paul flung me aside and I saw, as I hit the ground, Thag run full onto the spear, a total accident as his weight and momentum pushed Paul backward and against the rock.  Then it was over.  Paul was there, holding me as I cried and he took me inside and washed the blood from my mouth and breast and belly where Thag had scratched me as he tried to rape me.  Paul tried to wash.. down there.. but I couldn’t let him touch me there and he just held me until I cried myself to sleep like a little girl.

I woke up once and he was there, soothing me with his voice and a cool damp rag. Then again he fed me some soup, my mouth being too bruised to chew.

Then I was awake and buried the incident.

“Good morning, Paul.  Would you like some breakfast?” I asked.

“Are you ok?” he replied.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, because you are wrapped in a blanket.”

“oh. It’s chilly.”  Then, “I’m fine.”

He took me in his arms and I stiffened.  He relaxed his grip but still held me.  “Janice, it’s ok to be scared and vulnerable at times.  What happened is terrifying to any woman and you have a right to be angry and hurt and…”

I pushed him away!  “Not to me it isn’t!  I’m not like normal woman!” I struck him in the chest.  “Don’t you understand!  I take care of myself!  I let myself get into that mess and I panicked!  I shouldn’t have let it get that far and I should have taken care of it myself. Instead I ran home like a prissy little girl and put YOU in danger!”

He held me again, I fighting to be free as he asked, “And the truth is?”

I cried. “I,… I … Paul, when I was a teen, I was gang-raped over and over by Persian slavers.  They did me anally and forced me to suck them off and I couldn’t do anything but…  I hated myself for what they made me do as if it were my fault.  I know that they tell you that we always think it is our fault for being attractive or flirting too much or being in that place or…  And they tell us that it isn’t our fault, hoping that we will believe that.”  I was sobbing, incoherent.  “But this time it WAS my fault.  I KNEW he wanted me!  I should have never let him come with me. I should have told him he couldn’t come here. But I was trying to be a good hostess and…  I fucking KNEW he would try and I did NOTHING!!!!  It’s my fault!”

He let me cry and then laughed a bit.  I wanted to kill him.  “Janice, so you made a mistake.  We all make mistakes.  You aren’t perfect and as good as you are, you are still human. So you had a lapse of judgment.  Did you want him on any level?  Even a bit?”

“no.”  I whispered.  “he was hairy and ugly and stank and was too big and…”

“And not the least bit feminine.”  He spoke in a soft voice.  “I know,  You wish I were a woman   And I know that I’m not muscled or macho and so you can pretend that I’m a woman sometimes.

“So it wasn’t subconscious desire like when you told me that women tease men even though they already decided they would say yes.  It was just a mistake.”

I looked up at him and forced myself to say, “Paul, will you make love to me?” I tried to pull him to the bed and he almost came.

“Do you really want me?”

“I, I need you.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have to be so fucking logical about this.  I’m offering sex!  Isn’t that what men want from me?” I was crying again, but from anger now.

He said so softly that it hurt us both, “I’m not other men and I love you too much to hurt you.”

I sat heavy, it still hurt to sit and talk through my swollen mouth and I could feel loose teeth.  My breast and belly hurt from Thag’s fingernails and I hoped Paul washed the dirt away before anything got infected. And I didn’t want to think about.. down there. what damage he did.  “Paul, I’m afraid that this will warp me.  I don’t desire men. Most of the time I don’t even like them.  But we are here together and if I let this fester, I’m afraid that I’ll hate men.  Hate you.”

“Sort of like getting back on the horse that threw you before you can become afraid of riding?”

I nodded.  “My first time, I .. I wasn’t a virgin with Yu but I knew I had to learn to … So I begged him and he was patient and … I made him just do it and get it done.  Then I ran away in shame and was sick.  Facing him the next morning was the hardest thing I ever did. He loved me, you know and in my own way, I loved him.  But I never told him.  I couldn’t.  I could only… That afternoon, I led him away from the caravan and I… I kind of seduced him and that time it was nice.  It got better and.. I never told him how I felt.  I think, .. they say a woman should.. with someone she cares for… after she is…   Paul?”

“My name is Philip.”

“Paul,” I insisted.  “I, .. I do love you.  I was afraid to tell Yu and I’m afraid to tell you but I .. I do.  And if we don’t .. if you don’t… now…  I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to again…”

He sat by me and held me again.  Then kissed me on the cheek, the one that wasn’t swollen.  “Janice, we should go get your clothes and weapons before something drags them away.  There will be time for love making after.”

I tried to laugh.   “You mean fucking.”

He held my hands, “I never fucked you.  For me it was always making love.”
 
 

I didn’t see Thag’s body though I forced myself to look and I never asked what Paul did with it.

We found the camp and my clothes and bow and other weapons were still where Thag had cast them aside. I dressed, replacing the severed thongs and felt better, not that I was wearing clothes again.  I even forced myself to dress in front of Paul as he folded the blanket I had worn here though he saw only my back as I did.

And on the trip back, he asked me about the Sagoths.  “Do you think that they are Austrolopithicus Robustus? Maybe the Pellucidar Bigfoot?”  He kept that dialogue up the entire way home until I realized that I was talking back, conversing and discussing like always.  And as we entered our house I unlaced my clothing and laughed, “Paul, if you don’t drop those pants right now and make love to me this very instant, I swear that I will absolutely die!”  And this time I was serious.  “But no kissing, my mouth still hurts.”
 

---

V. GODS

---

We lay there  in bed, naked as always, me wishing I had some sexy, slutty lingerie to wear.  I was playing with his hairless chest, pretending that he was a flat-chested female lover I had picked up.   So I moved up and kissed his face, feeling the stubble ruin the fantasy so I stopped and lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“It’s sort of like Saturday,” he mumbled, half asleep.

“hmmm?” I asked.

“Saturday?  Weekends when you don’t have to go to work and can sleep in?”

“I don’t have to work ever.  I’m wealthy enough to sleep in every day and do nothing but shop and travel if I wish.”

“Then why do you do what you do?”  he was referring to me being an adventurer for hire.

“I get bored laying around the manor, being taken care of.  And buying something makes it worth more when you have to work hard for it.”

“Hmm? Perhaps I should have worked harder to get you so I’d appreciate you more?”

“You beast!”  I laughed. “You never had to work to get me, ever.  That first night I was drunk, and horny, and desperate, and you were the only thing around.  The next day, .. ok  you took me when we were hiding from the Mahar and I suppose I could have stopped you but.. well you felt so good.  After that, you became something of a habit.”

“So,” he laughed.  I’m a drug now.  Like coffee?”

I reached down, feeling him harden.  Goddess, that man wasn’t a giant but he could get ready at a touch or a thought a half-dozen times a day. “THIS, my love, is my drug.”

He rolled me over and as he entered, said, “God I miss coffee!”

I laughed and tried to push him off, “So now I’m something you drink… well then maybe I should just get up and.. leave.. and.. what the hell?  I didn’t tell you to stop!  That is sooo much better.  Yes, like that. Deeper!”  I didn’t let him go for a very long time.
 

Later, while having breakfast, the eggs from some bird I couldn’t identify, his toes began to caress my legs.  “Stop that.  You are so insatiable.  How do you get that up so often?”

“You inspire me.  I was never like this with anyone else.  Do you really want me to stop?”

I got up and approached, sitting on his lap and gasping as I settled onto him, feeling him slide inside again… “And how many others were there before me?”

“487!  No, wait! I forgot spring break, 569!  Wow!  Do that again!”  I was licking and nibbling at his neck.  “What about you?”

“Well, there was Yu, he was my first.  Then that Greek Mercenary in Georgia. But I was angry with his partner and raped him in revenge so that doesn’t count.  Then Hansel but he was a servant and I was just curious about what a eunuch was like so that doesn’t count either.   Titian and Boticelli in Italy.  Then that orgy in Tuscany but I had to do him to get her so he doesn’t count either.  Then.. I think it was Alexii, my husband.  Then you.  So that makes .. four in all!”

“It must be the new math.  I do love how you move those muscles down there.  Did that take long to learn?”

“Well, when you’ve spent the night with a God, you get stretched out and need to do something to get back in shape.”  I wasn’t moving but was still giving him pleasure.  It’s like imagining that you are peeing and need to stop. I practiced clenching those muscles for duration and sequence and those very few men in my life have always complimented me.

He stopped me from kissing his ear and looked into my eyes.  “Really!  I can believe you knew Leonardo da Vinci and all the others but a god?  As in Jehovah, Lord of Heaven God?”

“I never slept with Leonardo. I would have but he just wanted to wear my underwear, preferably soiled.  He said it inspired him.  You really don’t want to know the rest.  Some things are best left unanswered or unasked like, oh, am I getting fat?”

“You are just as beautiful as the day I first met you.”

“First of all, I am far from beautiful.  I just had a great ass and a rack that won’t end.  And with those, men don’t look further.  And second you avoided the question which means yes, I am turning into a cow.”

“First of all, you ARE beautiful.  Especially that nose. I love your nose.”  He kissed my nose.  “And your lips, (another kiss) and especially your earlobes. I think your earlobes are your best part.” He began to nibble on them bringing more moans and some very pleasant hip movements on my part.  “And second, you are NOT getting fat.

“And third, I really want to know.  These last months I have learned that the Earth is hollow, that dinosaurs exist and that time travel is possible and my lover has known the most famous people in history and claims to be older than I am even though she looks younger.  So why not gods?  Zeus?  He was always after the young pretties. Did he appear in a shower of golden coins or as a golden shower, or as a swan?”

I laughed, “No, never Zeus.  It was Pan.  Ok, if you are serious. Hey? If you want to hear, you have to keep this hard!”  I worked my muscles again and then, “That’s better.  Play with my breasts but watch the nipples or I’ll loose concentration with my climax.

“Ok, remember the old story about Lilith being Adam’s first wife?  No?  Well, Jewish legend says that Adam had a first wife, Lilith, who was an uppity bitch who refused to submit.  So she was driven from Eden and Jehovah made Adam another wife, Eve, who was more complacent.  Then they had kids and those sons married women and so the race of man began.  BUT, the stories don’t tell where those women Adam’s sons married came from.

“yes, the sides too.  I so love it when you fuck me between my tits.  My skin is so sensitive there and I can see your cock poke at me when you thrust.  I come that way too.  Where was I?

“Oh yes.  Lilith.  We have a legend that says that the Goddess was First of all Gods and then when She got Lonely she divided herself into Herself and Her other self, the Horned God.  They had sex and gave birth to all the First Gods, the Titans, Amertasu, even Jehovah.

Then one day the Goddess was playing with some clay and made Lilith, the first woman.  And Lilith got lonely so the Goddess sent her to Eden to meet Adam and they had a lot of sex but Adam was always on top. There’s a lot of sex in Pagan religions. We have whole fucking festivals dedicated to nothing but fucking!    Well, Lilith refused to be a complacent housewife and demanded equality and when she was refused, she decided to run away and left Eden.  Also she got tired of rocks in her back and wanted to get on top occasionally.”

“I thought you said she was driven out?”

“Jewish legend says she was driven out. Wiccan legend says she ran away.  So Lilith wandered all over but couldn’t find anyone else so she prayed to the Goddess who taught her a spell to made another male.  Lilith made a new man, Samael, from clay and gave him life and they married and had lots of babies, some of whom married the sons of Adam and Eve.

“And so to this day you, my love, are said to be the Son of Adam while I am the Daughter of Lilith.”

“Well, the thing is that gods become more powerful with the number and intensity of their worshippers.  Think of it like prayer and devotion being food to a god.  When the religion fades away, so do the gods.  And sometimes, that god has to do a miracle to keep the faith going.  Like the burning bush or the Red Sea or the 1969 Mets.

“Jehovah lives in Heaven and Earth is sinful and good people get to leave Earth for Heaven.

“But Pagan Gods aren’t separate from Earth.  We see Earth as a good place and so we reincarnate back on Earth to be with those we love.  And if Earth is so good, then the Gods must be on Earth too.  And if They are on Earth, then we can see them occasionally.”

I lost track there and focused on making Paul feel good.  His stroking my breasts had already given me a small climax.  Not the ‘scream my head off’ climax but still, a pleasant one.

“and?” he prompted.

“And does this feel good?  Sometimes I can hear you moan.”

“Yes this feels good but you.. and the gods…”

“Paul,” I stopped moving and massaging and looked at him.  “You are a Christian.  Your people followed the Jews.  And the Jews burned my people just happily as did yours.  I’m afraid that we’ll start a religious argument here.  It’s one thing to talk about ancient mythology, another to find that the stories are true.”

“Oh come now, it’s not like you went back and knew Jesus… you did!  You met and knew Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t ask.”

“Don’t worry.  The thing about Christianity is that it relies on Faith, not proof.  Scholars can say whatever they want and it doesn’t change the faith.  Tell me.” He tried to move his hips to encourage me and even slid a finger down but I arched my hips and he couldn’t find a way to the Countess, as I called my little lady.

“His name was Joshua ben Panther of the House of David and he didn’t die.  They freed him, that Barabbas story, because Barabbas was his nickname.  But he was banished and took Mary Magdalane to France where they raised a family. I hear that there are still some of his descendants alive there today.”

“Wow!  That would so screw up Sunday School.  Now about your god?”

“I , well Jason was in Russia and was hired to rescue this Russian prince who had been kidnapped by the Sarmatians. He did but the Sarmatian God cursed us.  It’s not a good idea to desecrate a temple and anger a god.  Even if you don’t believe in that god.  Sometimes they get so desperate for followers that they do miracles just to keep the belief going.  And please, don’t ask me about the curse.  I won’t tell you.”

“But if Jason desecrated the temple, why curse you?”

“The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the sons!  Remember that?  I guess that if they execute your entire family, you will be less willing to commit a sin.  And Gods are infamous for overreacting.  They’d probably use an A-Bomb when a single bullet would do the job better.  Plus the Cerne Giant, an image of the Horned God in England, has a ten meter phallus.  Believe me, my love, when I tell you that smaller is often better!Zvedi

“I was traveling south and saw a camel caravan from China and took a job as a guard.  That’s where I met Yu.  He fell in love with me because I was so different from his Chinese wives, but I liked women and I met Zvedi who was an Amazon and we became lovers.  Yes, the Amazons from Greek Mythology.  After they murdered their husbands and fathers and sons, they ran away to that island in the Aegean Sea where they met Jason and the Argonauts.  Then they were afraid that Jason would report them and they ran away to northern Turkey and got involved in the Trojan war.  But the Turks were rising in power under Islam so they ran away to Russia on the Caspian Sea.  For a race of Warrior Women, they sure did a lot of running away.

“Yu told me of a Golden Temple built by the Verangians on Amazon lands dedicated to the Norse God Iarillo that was surrounded by golden Phalluses. Any of which would bring their possessor fame and fortune as they were made of gold and promised unlimited virility.

“I punched holes in the story as the Verangians were Vikings who prayed to Thor and Odin who were war-gods and not sex-gods but Iarillo was a Russian God.  And the Amazons killed any man who entered their lands.  But still, I was curious and went to have a look.  Did you know that there were once three thousand Stone Circles in the British Isles and Ireland?  A thousand were totally destroyed, another thousand damaged and a thousand remain intact.  Dr Leakey found a Stone Circle in Africa and I’ve found them all over the world, including Japan, Tahiti and America.  Many of them have the megaliths set over quartz bearing rocks and as you pound the ground in dance or somehow, the Stones move and the quartz underneath begin to vibrate and…  Well, the StarGates that brought us her to Pellucidar operate in a similar way.

I quieted for a moment as I was having another mini-climax.  My massaging his phallus and the memories were doing it to me again.  Then with a shudder, tried to focus.  “Iarillo was the Russian version of the Horned God.  The Greeks called Him Pan, the Indians called Him Pashupati, the Romans Cernunnos.  All the same God you find painted on the walls of the Three Brothers in France and the Gunderstrop Cauldron.  And somehow, His worship is again growing.  I heard that my religion is the fastest growing religion in America today.  Even Catholic Ireland is also seeing a resurgence of Their faith.  My aunt Katherine who raised me, was Their worshipper and told me the tales and legends and religious stories and how she used to invoke the Horned God and Moon Goddess. She also taught us some spells like the one I used to escape from the police when we arrived here.

“Well, I went there and found that the temple was a simple stone Circle like the ones you find all over the British Isles.  No gold, no phalli unless you consider a two meter stone stuck in the ground a phallus.  I made the mistake of walking around the Circle, touching the stones, caressing them and I drifted off with the memories my Aunt told me.

I climaxed as I called out, “HE CAME TO ME!!!  The Horned God!!!!!  He saw in me an offering and He took my virginity!  He was my God and I was terrified of what He would do to me if I refused and  so I LAY for HIM!!!  (another climax with the memory)  He tore me apart with the size of HIS PHALLUS!!! (another)  and I never stopped having orgasms!”  I had to rest.  I was humping Paul so hard he was almost in pain.

“You came, my love?  You actually came with my tale!” then looking down as he slipped out, soft again, my question unanswered. So I smiled and continued.  “It took a day for me to stand again.  Another day to get down the mountain and a week to stop smiling. I can still climax with the memory, it was that good.  I was afraid that I was pregnant and if so, the Amazons would take the baby and being pregnant terrified me.  But I wasn’t.”  I felt the tears flow then.

“Months later Zvedi sent me away and I took a job to escort some box to Georgia on the shores of the Black Sea.  The men who hired me had heard of my.. experiences and sought to use me to raise Satan to do their bidding.  But they were mistaken.  The Horned God wasn’t Satan even thought the Tuscans call Him Lucifer and when He was invoked, I freed the prisoners, killed they who sought that power and … well He lay with me again and it was as great, but easier the second time.

I kissed Paul, ignoring the growing beard that I hated and continued.  “It happened again in Greece with Pan, then in Tuscany with Lucifer AND Diana. And years later with Pashupati in India.  A few others.  Always the same God despite His local name.  Always the most incredible sexual experience in my life.  That’s why men don’t really satisfy me, physically. Oh, I love a dick inside me but it’s just.. well sex.  But, somehow, with Yu and with you, there is something different, something. .wonderful.  They say that love makes the worst sex wonderful and you, my love, are far from a bad lover.  The first times, it was great.  Now it’s unbelievable.”

“Now you see why I didn’t want to tell.”  I could see the man in him hurt.  He knew he wasn’t the first, even though he had my maidenhead that first night when we were drunk.  I guess he could easier believe that I had a sexless marriage over a hymen regrowing.  And most men can accept their lovers having prior lovers.  But no man wants to know how great the other men were.  And honestly, Paul knew that he could never compete with a God.  But then, I never asked him to.

When we arrived in Pellucidar and I escaped, Paul and the police were struggling to just survive. I, alone, had invented pen and ink and paper and had made pages of notes on the local dinosaurs, pages that should have been written by Paul.

Somehow I needed to fix this.  Every man wants to be the first.  If they cannot be the first, they want to be the best.  If they cannot be the best, they want the woman to do things with him that she would never do with anyone else.  Well, Paul couldn’t be my first but he was in the top two as to the best.  Excluding a god of course.  And because I had so few men, finding something I had never done before wouldn’t be difficult.  Hell, I had begged him to take me and that was a new experience.  I had wanted him so much I felt that I would die if he didn’t screw me and that was also new.  Paul made me feel free in a way that I had never felt before but that wasn’t enough for a wounded male ego.  I had tried oral before and hated that so maybe….  “Honey, what can I do for you?  When we started this, I promised to be the best I could for you and to do anything you wanted, anyway you wanted.  Tell me.”

He lifted me off his lap and walked away, hurt. “I just need to be alone and think for awhile.”  Then, “I was just joking before, you are only my third lover.”

Shit!  There are two ways to so totally destroy a man to such an extent that he will never recover.  The first is to tell him that he is a bad lover and will never satisfy you.  The second is to tell him that he is a poor provider and you would starve if you relied on him.  Even if you lie only to hurt him, the damage will never heal.  Paul knew that he ate and lived only because of my efforts.  He knew that the house in which we lived was mine and built by me without his help.  Now he knew that he could never satisfy me in the way I was before.  The fact that he had never been trained for this life or that no human can equal a god didn’t matter.  Only that he was a poor provider and lover mattered. And now he knew how much of a slut I was.

I should have lied to him.

---

I found him outside sketching and taking notes on the archaeopteryx that lived nearby.  I had, damn it! “I” had been feeding it to keep it around for Paul.  I lay some newly sharpened quill-pens and a fresh ink-pot next to him. I could see that he wasn’t into it and only writing as a diversion. So I went around back to check on the new stock of papyrus I was making.  Being the housewife to a paleontologist in the field required a never-ending supply of materials, and sometimes we had fowl for dinner only because I needed more flight quills for Paul.

---

I ran home shouting, “Paul, get your stuff, Cynthia is leaving!”  That shook him up and he was, again, the professional.

I gathered food and more arrows while Paul shoved paper and notes into his woven grass briefcase along with all the quills and ink he could find. We were in a hurry and didn’t have the time to be careful.  Then we ran to Albert’s territory, too recklessly and found the nest deserted.  We had watched them mate and make a nest.  We had watched Cynthia lay her eggs and we were there when they hatched and saw how good of a parents the allosaurus was. And now…

We followed the tracks, Albert following Cynthia and their dozen young following like ducklings.  Paul noted, “Maybe that is why she comes up here to lay?  Fewer dangers and a greater chance for her young to survive?”

“Possibly,” I added.  “Nothing enters his territory.  Even the big cat stays away and Felix isn’t afraid of even the wolf-pack.”

We followed, hidden, for either carnosaur would gladly use us to train their young in hunting.  And for some time they headed generally downhill.  Then, as they reached the limits of Albert’s territory, he stopped and watched her leave.  Albert honked and she looked back for a moment, then continued on, her mate already forgotten.  The young were confused.  All their short life they had seen their parents together and now…  “ I guess that allosaurs live with divorce.” I commented, sadly.

“Are your parents..?” he asked casually.

“Not at all.  Their marriage was arraigned and the families would never allow them to divorce.  But my mother was mad.  Insane you Americans would say, and so she farmed her children out to relatives to raise while father spent most of his time overseas with the army or business.”  I knew his parents had divorced and didn’t know which was the worst.

Eventually Cynthia realized that she was alone and honked and hissed until the brood chased her down.  Albert watched them leave then returned to life as a bachelor.  “I wonder when she’ll be back?”

“Do you think she will?” I asked. I wanted at lest one marriage to remain happy.  My first ended when I deserted Alexii, this one was ending because I had driven Paul away.

“I think so.  That nest was old, used and reused a number of times and I can’t see any other allosaur living up here.  I think that she’ll raise the kids, send them off when they are old enough and come back for another family.”

“So they’ve probably raised a number of families together?”  I was hopeful for this.

“I think it all depends on how often they come into heat.  I think that she won’t until the babies leave.  And it also depends on how long they live. Large mammals live for up to a century.  Smaller maybe a decade and the smallest a year or two.  For all we know, they may have been doing this every year for fifty years.”

Then he said, “we should follow.  If we reach the plains, can you find the way back?”

Happy to be consulted, I snapped, “Easily!  I’ve been there before and got lost so marked the trail.  We can leave right now if you want?”

Paul shrugged, looked back and said, “OK.”  I think he was happy that he had discovered something about Albert that I had not, and that I was asking his permission to do something.

We followed, taking notes as Cynthia continued to teach her young to hunt and we spending a lot of time in the trees away from them.  We found that if we watched from the ground, we were lawful prey. But if above and didn’t fall down, Cynthia called them away to find an easier meal.

At ‘night’ we slept together but Paul never initiated sex and when I tried, he rolled over with ‘I’m tired, maybe later’ but later never came.  From a lover and partner and housewife, I had been reduced to secretary.  No, at least Paul would fuck his secretary.  No!  I’m being unkind.  Paul would never do that.  He was too much of a gentleman.  Had I not seduced him, we would have remained platonic or he would have returned to Earth with the rest of the team.  It was only his love for me that kept him here.  And I had destroyed that love by telling him the truth.  Goddess! I am so glad I never told him the truth about my curse.  He’d walk into Albert’s mouth if he knew that!

We reached the plains and watched Cynthia join a small pack of other allosaurs and Paul finally got to see them in action as they hunted the sauropods on the plains.

The beasts were huge, Diplodocus he said.  And they wandered the plains along the edge of the conifer forest, eating pine cones and greenery.  “How big is their heart to pump blood that high?” he mused when he saw one rear up no its hind legs to reach the top of a tree.  “Their spinal vertebrae have spikes to hold the ligaments that support that long neck.”

“We can wait until the pack takes one down and check the body?”

He laughed at that.  “The pack only eats the young or old or diseased.  They cull the sauropod herd like wolves cull a herd of caribou.  We’d never get close enough to see and by the time the pack was done and left, all we’d see are bones.”

I tried everything.  I ran around naked.  I ran around dressed.  I asked him to hold my bra while I washed up.  I made him the best meals I could, considering that I had never learned to cook.  I was always sharpening his quill-pens and making ink and experimenting with colors so he could colour coordinate his drawings.  Nothing worked.  And I was ready to give up and pretend that the StarGate was opening early so he could go home.

Dammit! IF I EVER had another relationship with man or woman, I’d keep my fat mouth shut and die with a lie on my lips.  So I slipped Paul’s ring from my finger and, with heavy heart, placed it into my purse.  Our relationship  was dead so why carry a memory.

---

We were heading back, having run out of paper and ink and were resting among some rocks.  I was making dinner, what’s the use, as Paul was going over his notes. Then he stopped, read some pages over and over, I wondered what was so interesting,  and he stared at me for the longest time.

“I know, I’m getting fat!” I snapped.  My mother ate as a substitute for love and was really overweight by the time she died.  I understood and was doing the same, though the constant exercise was keeping it off.

Paul laughed, came to me and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me like he hadn’t done in… so long.  “No my love, you re just as beautiful AND THIN as the day we met.” Then he kissed me.

I froze, not understanding but afraid to say or do anything for fear it would be the wrong thing.  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

I was afraid to say yes for fear I’d get fat or break the mood, but if I said no and he was…

Then he said, “I’m starving!” and pushed me down, pulled my shorts off and.. well he had a fine hot meal.  Though not very filling.

When I was so horse from screaming and was begging him to stop and come here you lovely hunk, he did so gladly and although it took only seconds for him (it was a long dry spell for him I imagine), he apologized.  “I’m sorry, I usually last longer, but…”

“Shut the hell up you twit!  You were wonderful!  Just lay there on me and let me feel your weight.”

I held him forever until he said, “Honey, I have to pee.”

“Then pee,” I ordered.  “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“Really, I really need to pee!”

“Ok, but come right back.”

I actually watched him water the bush, damn he has a fine tight ass!  Then he came back and asked for dinner.  It was burned on the bottom and cold on top and it was the best meal I ever tasted.

Finally, I had to know.  “Paul, honey, promise to tell me to shut up but… what changed just now?  Never mind, I don’t want to know.  I am just so happy you are back.”

He laughed and explained, “Remember when we left to follow Cynthia?  We were in such a hurry I didn’t pay attention to what I was grabbing and …”  he handed me some papers, the ones he had read a few minutes earlier.

I looked them over and… he had accidentally taken some poetry I had written just after we had gotten together.  Poetry about him and how he made me feel.  I just cried forever and let him hold me.

On the way back, I remembered and fished Paul’s bone ring from my purse and slipped it back onto my finger behind my back so Paul wouldn’t see that it was ever gone.

It was good to be home again.

 END

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The Countess and her Court-  Janice's name for her own genitals.
Felix- the slimodon
Albert & Cynthia
Hitmyl- the cave-girl
Thag - cave man who raped or tried to rape Janice.

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For more Rick Johnson fiction visit his Fiction site:
http://www.geocities.com/RikJohnson_RLJ/
Rick Johnson,
PO Box 40451, Tucson, AZ 85717
http://www.geocities.com/RikJohnson_erb

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