From the Journal of Olivia Delacroix - Third entry.

It has been, to the best of my knowledge, eight days since I detailed Emma’s discovery of the bright pink fruits which we have taken to calling lustberries. Since that first night we have made some significant discoveries about its properties. Its effects, which last anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours, depending upon the mass of the imbiber and their metabolism are four-fold as near as we can discern. Once again, I am made to think of Professor Browning, thinking that his knowledge would prove a boon.

One, that it heightens the physical sense of touch.

Two, that it creates an erotic euphoria along with occasionally mild hallucinations.

Three, that it greatly lowers inhibitions

And four, that it is highly addictive.

After the first night where Emma and I enjoyed our premier Sapphic encounter, the tenor of our small band of castaways has evolved down paths that none of us could imagine. The fruit, now that we are aware of its location, is quite plentiful. As a side note, Gavin has observed birds partaking of its flesh on occasion with no indication that it influences them in the same manner. While the cohesiveness of our company has been strengthened, our resolve to do more than survive has not. We do merely what is necessary; gather food and such supplies that make our daily lives more comfortable and no more. While our curiosity as to the fate of our ship mates remains, the urge to seek them out has been lost to another urge, that of physical wants and desires. While it worries me that we are becoming resigned to living out our days in this paradise, it is a worry that I have a difficult time holding onto when in the thrall of the fruit.

A week ago, we would have been scandalized by the indecency of our deeds. Certainly the sudden shedding of scruples and morals is out of character and yet, it feels strangely natural as a result of eating Eve’s apple. To think that Emma and I had misgivings about going about in our undergarments before is laughable considering we have no qualms about walking about the beach stark naked and unashamed. I admit, it is freeing. Thankfully, another one of our discoveries has been a flowering vine that produces a salve that protects our flesh from the sun. As it is, all of us have turned as brown as Indians over the past two weeks.

I feel very little shame in freely admitting that I have slept with each member of our party more than once, although I have discovered that I have a special fondness for Bull, who is as well-endowed as I had imagined, the Lieutenant and, of course, Emma. I have noted that Gavin and Grant have gravitated towards each other and now show their affection for each other openly. To think that even the thought of such an open display of homosexuality would have once shocked me is now laughable.

Earlier, Emma detailed her misgivings about continuing to feast upon the potent pink fruit and I fully concurred and yet, it wasn’t long before we were plucking fresh berries and feeding them to each other with juice stained finger. Afterwards, we lingered near the bubbling spring that provides our merry band with fresh water and made love with wild abandon until we were too exhausted to continue. If we are to be lost forever upon the shores of Eden, I would not be overly dismayed. I am happy here, perhaps happier than I have ever known or imagined. Not only do I find myself being sated physically, but a deeper spiritual affection for my fellows has taken root in me as well. I wonder as I write these words if I am feeling love for the first time the way God intended; pure and without censure.

Livie Delacroix.

June the 29th, approximate, in the year of our lord, 1867.

oOo

“You’re smiling at something funny,” James teased, raising one of his eyebrows as if to turn it into a question.

“A stray thought,” I admitted, giggling at the image that had sprung into my mind. James spreading a checker cloth blanket upon a meadow, looking dashing in his military uniform while I stood by and watched, prim and properly dressed, a bonnet upon my head and a grape basket filled with sandwiches, turnovers and warm lemonade at my feet. Instead, I reclined naked while he trampled down enough grass so that we could lay comfortably, looking forward to feasting on fruits and vegetables that we’d gathered on our walk up the sloping hill that overlooked a shallow pond, perfect for wading. We weren’t the only visitors, I noted absently, for it seemed to attract the giant butterflies that were the dominant species in our small part of the world as well.

“I hope it involved kissing me,” he grinned as he stood above me, offering his hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet and then closer. I sighed, enjoying the feel of my hardening nipples against his naked chest as I turned my face upward and kissed him. Not the chaste kiss of polite society of a lifetime ago, but one that left no doubts about my intentions. My open mouth was moist with lust as I welcomed his tongue. I could feel his prick stirring against my thigh as he cupped my bottom, pulling me ruthlessly against him, clearly set on ravishing me. Breasts heaving, I melted into his kiss, suddenly anxious to feel him inside me, my thighs parting as I cupped his testicles and began to rub myself against his genitalia, my moan soft and low.

“Pleasure me with your filthy mouth, Livie,” he commanded, his fist closing around my unfettered blonde tresses. While Bull was gentle in his love making, James was decidedly not, something I found I enjoyed immensely, much to my surprise. Another side-effect of the berries, perhaps?

“On your knees.”

He gave my hair a tug, and I complied, my kisses travelling over his throat to his chest, pausing at his nipples to suck and nip, much to his obvious delight, before lowering myself, one hand firmly kneading his muscular bottom while I cupped and fondled his ball-sack with the other, my mouth poised against the head of his swollen prick.

“Force me,” I breathed, staring up into his eyes, his gaze fiercely possessive as he laid his hand atop my head and pushed himself against my lips, forcing them open, groaning as my teeth scrapped against his sensitive flesh into the wetness of my eager mouth.

I gagged slightly, doing my best to take him all in, my eyes never leaving his face as he began to pump his hips slowly, abandoning himself to the pleasure of the moment while I, unashamedly, let one hand drop so as to give myself pleasure, dipping my fingers between my swollen lips until they dripped with my body’s desire before teasing and pulling at my sensitive nub.

He climaxed first. He always did. That was my concession to a place and time far, far away. A lady always puts her own needs aside for those of her companion. Not for long, though. Almost as soon as I felt him pause, his hips jerking a moment before filling my throat with his gift, I abandoned my reserve and pushed myself over the edge, my orgasm peaking before he’d finished filling my belly, moaning around his shaft like a stray bitch in heat.

“I cannot get enough of you, Livie,” he breathed, pushing me back so that I was forced to support myself on the palms of my hands as he forced my thighs wider, joining me, his knees between mine as he guided his cock, slick and glistening with our combined juices, and still hard, into my pussy, his weight forcing me down on my back as I unfolded my legs and wrapped them around his waist.

We fucked like that for an eternity, or so it seemed, the heights of our pleasure building and building, but never spilling over, until it became sheer agony and the need to orgasm was all consuming. Eventually, as a small part of my mind promised me, the dam did burst and that agony blossomed into indescribable ecstasy for both of us. With a great cry he, or perhaps it was I, was consumed with impossible pleasure, perhaps triggering the other as well. I can only imagine our cries echoed out across the knoll, unsettling the colorful insects around us, not that we took notice.

Afterwards, we simply lay together, touching, sometimes tenderly, sometimes with newly blossoming desire, our kisses both chaste and hungry, my own lust re-igniting as he took my nipple into his mouth and bit, gently at first, and then more cruelly, into my sensitive flesh, his fingers questing between my cum slick thighs and between my folds and then, into the taboo of my puckered bottom, ignoring my half-hearted protests until they became pleas for him to continue, to fuck me harder, faster, deeper until I my delirious cries evolved into a wordless scream after which, I confess, I became insensible for a time and remember nothing.

oOo

I sat upright with a start to the sound of wings. It seemed that the entire world was in motion, dissolving into a myriad of bright colors and swirling before me like a tempest. It took me but a moment to discern that this wasn’t a mere hallucinatory side effect of the berries I’d ingested earlier but rather the result of a swarm comprised of the giant butterflies after which we’d named our locale. It seemed that they were rising, not in an agitated manner, but with seeming purpose. I based my assumption on the fact that they all seemed to be travelling eastward, away from the shores upon which we’d made our camp, and towards some unknown destination.

“James,” I laughed, struck by the wonder of the moment and seized with the thought that this, if nothing else, proved the existence of God, so beautiful were they. “Look about you.”

“What is it Liv-“ he began, bolting to his feet before he could finish the thought, amazement, surely mirroring mine, writ upon his handsome features. “My God!” he exclaimed, his mouth gaping open.

“Where do you think they’re going?” I wondered out loud.

“Spooked, perhaps?” he said, looking suddenly wary and squatting for a moment to retrieve the sheathed saber that he had put aside before bedding me among the flowers.

“I don’t believe so. If I was to hazard a guess it would be that some instinct within them has set them into motion. Perhaps we are witnessing a migration.”

Impulsively I took several tentative steps forward before breaking into a run, heedless of where my feet fell so intent was I upon the colorful creatures.

“Livie, wait!” James called out with concern. Unlike me he wasn’t laughing with child-like delight as he took up chase as well.

What a sight it must have been, the two of us, naked as the day we were born, plunging through the foliage in pursuit of the benign insects. I had a moment of regret that Emma wasn’t here to witness this, but it was soon forgotten as I forayed further and further from the camp, soon finding myself beyond the limits of our previous explorations. How much time had passed, I couldn’t say, only that James had long ago become winded and been left behind and that I, too, had to come to a halt, unable to draw further breath without a painful hitch in my side.

“James?” I called out, turning once in a full circle, the realization that I was lost slowly dawning upon me. The flowers here grew extraordinarily tall, blocking my sight and rising like small trees above me. I am not sure if it was an inner resolve that kept me calm, borne of surviving the recent catastrophe of being shipwrecked or the influence of the berries, but I did my best to take a deep breath and consider my situation untainted by panic.

The fauna that we had so far encountered was, to our admittedly limited knowledge, benign. Only the giant wasps gave us any pause and we had learned that they weren’t aggressive unless threatened. Bull that learned the hard way that, while their sting was quite painful, their venom was as weak as their smaller counterpart back home. As long as I kept my head and didn’t succumb to any natural dangers, I should be safe. The wisest course, obviously, was to remain where I stood and wait for James. Wisdom, however, was not something I was in great supply of when under the thrall of the lustberries. I quickly decided that a little exploration wouldn’t hurt. In the spirit of the many adventurers who had come before me, I decided to continue following the swarm for a little ways at least in hopes of discovering their destination. Curiosity, mayhap, was responsible for the proverbial cat’s death I reminded myself. While it didn’t prevent me from continuing, it served admirably in retaining a sense of caution as I advanced towards what appeared to be a rocky bluff in the distance awash in a sea of brightly colored flowers that rippled in an unfelt breeze.

As I drew closer it became apparent that I had mistakenly identified the scene before me. What I had surmised where petals were, in actuality, wings. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of the giant insects had settled on a length of cliff that rose two, perhaps three, stories tall, their wings gently trembling as if impatient to be airborne once more. I was so struck with the beauty of the moment that I gave pause, settling to my knees as I simply observed for several moments – perhaps a quarter on an hour or more, concerns about being lost or in danger far from my thoughts. I was confident that James would manage to ‘rescue me’ from my predicament in due time, after all. In the meantime, I was content to gaze upon this profound and breath taking sight in solitary, undisturbed by the distant sound of bird calls, the slight rustle of the grass as a gentle breeze teased through the blades, or my own breaths, sounding slightly labored from my exertions.

Eventually I came to notice a strange fragrance borne upon the air, wafting from the multitude of insects who clung to the cliffs. Subtle yet enticing, like a distant memory of a lingering perfume. I took a moment to breathe in deeply, concentrating upon the scent, enjoying the heady sensation I was feeling, barely aware of introducing my fingers to my overheated sex, hips undulating in rhythm to some unheard symphony of my own desires.

I lost track of time, so hypnotic was my state, having to assure myself that, according to the position of the sun, less than three quarters of an hour had passed since I’d arrived. James, I could only assume, would be mad with worry by now. It would be best to retrace my steps and search him out and yet, I balked at the thought, my attention rapt upon the seething mass of Lepidoptera (pride that my time under the professor’s tutelage was not entirely washed away by my sensual rapture gave me a moment of non-sexual euphoria).

In for a penny, in four a pound I decided as I strolled down the grassy slope in hopes of examining the phenomena more closely, hoping that my presence didn’t disturb the winged creatures. Not only did I not disturb then, but they seemed entirely oblivious to my presence as they clung to, not the cliff face but rather a lattice of vines that had broken free from the soil to climb the rocky surface like a living curtain. Brushing aside one of the behemoths, I examined the flora more carefully. It appeared to be similar to in characteristic to the bushes that yielded the lustberries that we’d become so enamored of, only no fruit grew from it but rather similar colored and abundant blossom covered the supple creepers. Leaning forward, I exhaled deeply, unsurprised to discover that the unfamiliar fragrance was, indeed, originating from the bright pink flower buds.

The butterflies must be drawn to the scent when it blooms, I deduced. A closer look at the creatures revealed tiny clumps of pollen clinging to their fragile looking limbs as they feasted upon the flowers, their needle-like tongues dipping into the pistil like tiny serpents. At that precise moment, my eyes were drawn to another swarm topping the knoll, obviously coming to roost as well. I thought nothing of it until several of them settled upon me, momentarily confused by my presence. Benign though they were, they proved, in hindsight, to be my undoing. The sensation of wings brushing against my flesh and of the tentative touch of their limbs as they clung to me before realizing their error and moving on, coupled with the proximity of the pollen sent me into a state of ecstasy that I had never before imagined. Suddenly, the thin veil of thought was denied me and replaced by a sexual frenzy so deep that I felt myself falling into a state of rapture beyond imagining, draining away my remaining will and pricking at my consciousness with surgical precision.

Fighting against it, I stumbled away from the cliff face, my body aflame with primal carnal desires, I fled the scene with no conscious thought of direction or destination other than the knowledge that I had to be away from there before I succumbed to the siren’s call. As tempting as it might seem, a part of me sensed that my ego would be wiped clean, perhaps forever, leaving only the most base aspects of my id if I were to remain. Temptation warred within me, admittedly, likely the overwhelming effects of the plant’s pollen flooding my system, but fear was a strong master and drove me to flee until a different emotion washed through me and I collapsed upon my knees, savagely fingering myself to climax after climax, each one more powerful than the previous, before, thankfully, falling into a state of sweet oblivion.