Sometime later, probably less than an hour, she awoke as the fire had burned down to embers and the heat of the wine and their lovemaking had worn off. She nudged him awake and urged him to stir up the fire while she cleaned herself up.
By the time she came back to the tent he was inside and asleep again. She stood by the fire a few minutes to warm up again from dousing herself in cold water. Still nude underneath but she had wrapped herself in a terry cloth robe they had brought for these cooler weather shoots in nature. Before she retired to bed herself, something urged her to bring the wooden totem with her into the tent.
Her dreams throughout the night were restless and strange, blending reality with mirky imaginings of the forest. She dreamed of trying to run through the forest, fleeing some unknown pursuer, but falling constantly. She found herself lying on a bare rock shelf, with thick roots emerging from cracks in the rock and long parasitic vines hanging down from the canopy. She couldn’t stand, so she tried to crawl, but a root caught her foot and the belt of her robe became trapped in a crevice of the rock.
She heard a terrible cracking noise above her and tried to turn to see the source. A tree trunk fell almost straight at her head, but the impact was borne by rocks around her. She breathed a sigh of relief. But when she tried to get up, she found her shoulders were pinned by the fallen log, even if its crushing weight was supported by the rocks on either side.
There is a rustling behind her but she cannot not turn to see what or who it was. She twisted her hips to the left and to the right but could not free herself.
Something touched the sole of her left foot and she tried to kick it away, but soon that leg was held fast as well. But not by a hand or a claw. If felt cool and soft, like a moss-covered stone. The sensation crept up her left leg and started up her right as well. She couldn’t hear breathing or sense any person, but she was absolutely certain that this entity wanted to possess her sexually. And for some reason, she wanted it to.
She felt the sensations climbing up her legs, growing warmer and smoother, now like polished roots, wet with sap. Another tendril curled around her neck and snaked toward her mouth. She licked at its tip, finding it musky and warm, like a sip of whiskey.
She felt the pressure on her legs solidifying into to two tendrils, one wrapped around each leg and probing ever closer to her sex. Something was wet and leaking, but she couldn’t tell whom.
The root or vine probing her lips grew more aggressive, filling her mouth. She started to resist, sputtering and gasping for air. And that was when she woke up.
It took more than a moment to realize she was still in the tent, and another moment further to realize she had been fellating a curving tendril of the artifact in her sleep. It felt warmer than it should have and she didn’t know why.
As for the probing at her bottom, her man was lying next to her, naked and erect, But he hadn’t awakened yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. She needed to take care of herself.
She was feeling flushed and overheated. She unzipped and pushed back the sleeping bag, untying and opening her robe. The heat of her body radiated out in waves into the cold air of the tent. She ran a long finger through the smooth lips of her pussy, unsurprised to find it already damp with desire. Her other hand was still wrapped around the girth of a branch of the totem.
As she fingered herself, she also lightly stroked the wood, feeling its smooth polish and tracing the twisting, curving grain of its extremities. She tentatively nibbled and then licked at a bulbous head as her fingers dug more urgently for her g-spot.
What came next seemed only natural in the moment. She moistened a tendril of the artifact with a few lavish swirls of her tongue. Then she positioned the artifact at the entrance to her womanhood and slid its curving digit insider her.
The other knobs and branches of the object gave her plenty to twist and grind against, and it hit her g-spot over and over again. She thrashed her legs and bucked her hips into the air like a woman possessed. She wasn’t sure she was even in control of what she was doing: half asleep and half in ecstasy, she finally climaxed with a stifled gasp. Every muscle in her body clenched and quivered with the force of her orgasm before she fell into a deep sleep.
A few hours later she awoke again, chilly from mountain air on her bare legs and exposed torso. She was cradling the totem to her bosom, but it was cool to the touch now and she set it aside.
She pulled her robe back around her and retreated back into sleeping bag, but the early light of daybreak was already filling the tent. After a few minutes of tossing and turning she gave up and began to get ready for the day, leaving her partner to snore softly and contentedly.
She relit the fire, boiled water, and drank her tea by the flowing stream, sitting in the quietness of the morning. As the mist began to burn off, she donned a pair of flowing orange harem pants and a black knit crop top, gathering her hair into a messy topknot. As the birds began to sing, she performed her morning stretches by the fire and began set out camera gear and ropes.
Her partner finally emerged from the tent, his morning wood forming a tent of his own in his loose-fitting shorts, but she only gave it a quick squeeze as she presented him with a hot cup of instant coffee.
Over breakfast they talked about the plan for the shoot, but eventually the topic turned to the night before.
“That was…quite a fuck last night,” she agreed, almost blushing.
He nodded, then shook his head a little. “Not sure I’ve ever heard you talk our lovemaking like that before, not in the clear light of day anyway.”
She shrugged, “Usually not, but that wasn’t ‘making love’ or ‘being intimate’, that was a raw, primal, screwing-like-our-lives-depend-on-it, no holes barred fuck…” She looked him in the eye as she bit her lower lip, “….and I loved it. You have to let that beast out of the cage more often.”
He grinned and patted the blanket next to him. “How about now? I’ve still got morning wood…” he offered.
She shook her head, “Save it for the shoot big boy. I don’t want you going soft on me when I’m in the ropes.”
He squinted at her suspiciously, “When have I EVER gone soft on you?”
She grinned and bobbled her head as she clambered across the blanket to a pile of camera gear to resume checking and preparing it. “I’m just not taking any chances. I’m really excited about this shoot, I think it’s one of your best ideas.”
He pouted a little as he finished his breakfast, but their conversation soon turned back to rigging and the shoot. They gathered their ropes, carabiners, and other rigging equipment and took them to the foot of the two grand old oaks.
She set up cameras to record a time-lapse while he began to rig and weave a human-sized spider’s web with thick black climbing ropes. She alternated between preparing her hair and makeup with helping him to run new lines or keep tension on the web as he connected new sections.
Around noon the main web was complete, so they stopped for lunch. The sky was still a leaden grey, exactly what they hoped for to match the spooky aesthetic. After some soup and sandwiches, he turned his attention to her, wrapping her in nothing but a sheer white gossamer lace and tying an intricate suspension harness for her chest and groin from thinner neon orange shibari rope.
Her firm breasts were thrust up and together, as well as with any pushup bra, and her dark nipples stood erect beneath the thin, gauzy fabric. She wore torn white fishnet stockings and a garter belt, but no panties to restrict access to her womanhood, only a loose veil of lace that could easily be pushed aside.
They started the timelapse cameras again and she climbed into the web for him to begin weaving her into place. He ran the black climbing ropes through the anchor points he had made on her harness, then began tying more intricate restraints on her arms and legs with thinner black shibari ropes, pausing to take high quality still photos with yet another camera.
In less than an hour she was fully tangled in his web, suspended and restrained like a delicate moth in an evil black web. It wasn’t particularly warm, but he stripped the waist and worked in just his shorts and a fanny pack slung around his chest. He took some photos that would be safe for social media to promote the shoot, then started to turn up the heat.
He tore open the lace, baring her breasts and took plenty of photos up her lacy “skirt.” With each adjustment or change of the ropes, he teased her nipples, the soles of her feet, the back of her knees; and when he ran his hand over her exposed slit, he was pleased to find her positively drenched.
Before fitting a solid black ball gag into her mouth, he paused. “Did you suck me off last night, after we went to bed in the tent?”
She raised her eyebrows at him, shaking her head. She wondered if he had woken up and seen her pleasuring herself with the artifact.
“Huh,” he murmured, “must have been a dream.” He fitted the gag in her mouth and buckled it at the back, checking that she was comfortable. She nodded and blinked her brown doe eyes at him, grateful not to have to continue discussing what happened in the tent.
He went on, “I just had the hottest dream. But I don’t remember it being a person. Just like the darkness was swallowing and consuming all of me, all at once.”
She stared at him wide-eyed, but he wasn’t looking at her, almost talking to himself.
“I could have sworn I came, but I was just as hard as ever in the morning, so I guess not…” he trailed off, turning to the pile of gear and picking up the totem. He hefted it in his hand and turned it over a couple times.
“I think I’m going to take a few shots of it coming into the web, like a stop action, like it is the spider coming to check on its prey. Sound good?”
He turned and looked back at her. She nodded meekly.
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