Once A Dryad Came
July 15, 2011
I’ve been interested in the idea of writing an erotic story with an element of mythical fantasy for a while now. The notion of mythical beings and worlds allow the imagination to escape into new realm of exciting possibilities. It’s no coincidence that plenty of erotic writing has brought in fantasy creatures such as Vampires because of the extra dimension of sensuality and even mortal danger such creatures can bring to the story.
I became very interested in other kinds of mythical creatures, specifically Dryades from ancient Greek mythology. In these old masterworks of story telling Dryades, or Nymphs are creatures bound to nature, lesser than the gods and goddesses but often assisters in their power struggles and games with mortals. There are always female and possess a potent sensuality and sexual prowess. They are considered creatures for mortals to be wary of for this reason. This is what attracted me to them as creatures for a modern erotic tale. So this is my first piece of writing about a Dryad – a woodland nymph named Daphne – a voyeuristic teasing tale as a precursor to a full length erotic novella. Lachlan goes in search of something in the forest, where he suddenly sees a beautiful and exotic ‘woman’ emerge and begin to bathe…
Please be aware that the material posted here is intended for an ADULT Readership and contains some graphic depictions of sexual acts between consenting adult characters as well as some strong language. By continuing to read you are stating that you are over the legal age of consent to read explicit material in the state you are viewing this page from. If you are under 18 (or 21 in some States/Countries) or are easily offended by strong language and scenes of a sexual nature then you should EXIT this page.
Once A Dryad Came
Lachlan had woken very early, right as the dawn was breaking over the small plateau where he and his friends had made camp on the mountainside. The purple pale light seemed to glide across the landscape – the short grassy tussock dotted plain of level ground braced between steeply rising forests. A silvery river wound through the centre and curved off between the Elms off to his right and up the mountain to it’s source. As the sun continued to rise he somehow knew it was that way he had to go, though he knew not why.
Following the route that traced back the river’s path he hiked through ever more densely packed trees, tripping and stumbling on exposed slippery roots. His lightweight hiking shoes squelched on the soft damp ground of the riverbank as the pace of it’s flow increased and the sound of rushing water grew. The bottoms of his pale combat trouser legs were muddied. Clambering through even thicker trees he came out to see the ground rise sharply in front of him and the source of the noise as the river poured down from jutting rocks around ten or twelve feet above his head.
Putting his bouldering skills to the test he made his way up the damp and crumbling mix of rock, soil and grass. He felt the cool spray of water on his bare sinuous arms and face. Along with perspiration, the moisture around him caused his deep blue t-shirt to cling to his skin, bringing his wiry yet muscular frame into clearer definition. As he made his way up he twisted, stretched, flexed and bent his body and limbs with steady, fluid and powerful movements, bracing himself against minor crack and fissures in the rock face. With heavy treaded low-cut walking boots rather than his climbing shoes he didn’t have his usual feel for smaller footholds so he sought out jutting angles to either hook his ankle over, dig his toe into or push off against. The film of constant spray added to the challenge of this short but awkward climb. The kind of challenge Lachlan relished. The exertion and mental exercise got his blood pumping.
Warm sunlight caressed his fingers as he hooked them over the top of the ridge. He skilfully manoeuvred his feet to push himself up into a crouching position. To any one observing his emergence over the ridge he would have appeared as some lithe and sinuous – yet devilishly handsome – beast, coiled and ready to pounce. The dampened curls of his gold and ginger flecked brown hair caught in a warm breeze and flickered across his impishly handsome, rugged and lightly stubbled face for a moment before blowing back like short scraggy mane.
He looked out with no little awe at the scene in front of him. A large crystal clear natural pool, formed by the river, spread out across a clearing in the woods. All around the clearing hundreds of acres of thick forest rose upwards for another 500 ft or so until the craggy rock faces of magisterial mountain peaks rose out from the tree line. By some magic of natural alignment the rising morning sun shot warming golden rays directly down onto the clearing, reflecting bright white shimmers and sparks of light from the clear pool waters. Only once had Lachlan seen a sight of such natural beauty, in his native Ireland amidst the southern Black Valley.
Rising smoothly and casually from his crouched position he walked towards the waters edge to test the water. Ice cold! He shuddered and withdrew his hand, rubbing his palm and fingers with the other to encourage the blood to return. Once the sun had beaten down on this place for an hour or two it might be a more palatable, if distinctly refreshing temperature, Lachlan thought to himself.
Noticing some unusual fauna and tall bushes he headed over to investigate them. He gently lifted a panicle of tiny white flowers in his palm when a giant dragonfly with a lustrous purple body startled him, flying up from behind the branch directly towards his face. It stopped mere inches away and hovered expertly, stationary in the air, for around five seconds, before darting off across the surface of the pool. As his gaze followed the dragonfly he spotted movement from the edge of the forest beyond it. Instinctively he stepped back and crouched behind the bush to observe.
Is that a woman?
He pulled back a little further and peered through the branches.
The figure emerged further, out into the sunlight, a distinct and elegant woman’s form: salubrious, serpentine curves; skin the colour and tone of pale mocha, as though a touch too much milk had been added, with what appeared to be an almost coppery sheen. Lachlan’s heart rate rose steeply as he realised she was naked, or very close to it.
Am I dreaming? Surely, I must…?
The figure’s hair was almost jet black, in what appeared to be fine braids, exceptionally long threads tied up in an ornate knot above her head, branching out and flowing down her back to the very cusp of where her taut round buttocks curved outwards. Her soft full breasts hung gently, curving out from her chest in exquisite proportion with large dark areolae with pointed nipples inviting offered out marginally to her sides. She appeared powerfully toned, yet soft and natural – too good to be true, yet as real a sight as Lachlan had ever witnessed.
She hasn’t seen me.
As she stepped towards the water’s edge he saw her face clearly. It was extraordinarily beautiful. Oval of face with cherub round high cheekbones and soft full lips starkly contrast in the colour of cinnamon. Her improbably large eyes shone bright white with… Lachlan blinked and checked with astonishment… lustrous purple irises – the same purple of the dragonfly that he had just seen! Their brightness possessed an intensity that was both unnerving and intoxicating. He diverted his eyes back to her body. Around her slender neck she wore a kind of necklace; formed of dark green ovate-oblong leaves, three or so inches long, with three light green veins running concentrically along their length and small panicles greenish-white flowers and tiny purple berries hanging at intervals. Then he noticed some kind of markings.
Tattoos? They must be tattoos.
Her attention was caught by something in the distance behind her somewhere, she turned and flicked her hair as her head span round, exposing the extraordinary pattern on her back. Like a dark greenish-brown branch a line running up her spine with fine branching lines fanning out, wider towards her shoulders. From each finer branch in the pattern came markings in the shape of the leaves, flowers and berries worn around her neck.
Without the slightest flinch to signify that she felt the cold at all, she stepped off a flat rock into the icy waters of the river pool. She held out her arms diagonally from her sides so that her fingertips broke the surface of the water and playfully span round and around with the grace of a ballerina, sending concentric ripples out from her along the water’s surface. Then she sank down until her head was submerged. She rose joyfully, throwing her arms in the air as water cascade around her and her breasts swung up and down.
Lachlan watched all this from his obscured vantage, transfixed. He was convinced he was dreaming for how else could he explain this mystical creature before him? Yet the experience he was having was so vivid, so real.
She still hasn’t seen me!
Now this wondrous creature leant back on the rock behind her, thigh deep in the water. Cupping her hands together she gather water from the surface and poured it over her chest so that it ran in trickles over her breasts that caught the light like crystal as it fanned out around those large dark nipples, so pointedly swollen and erect. She gently massaged her bosom, toying with her fingers in a circular motion around her nipple, grimacing then breaking into a broad smile as she pinched and gently tugged them. She ran her hands up over her neck and to her face, before tracing them slowly down the curves of her body to dance on her thighs by the water line.
Lachlan felt his loins stirring. My God she’s playing with herself!
She lifted one leg out of the water and drew her fingers along its length, from ankle to thigh top. Her hands continued up her body, over her stomach and between her breasts, before crossing her arms and grasping her shoulders in a hugging motion. Her hands slid down, massaging her breasts again, more vigorously than before. The growing pleasure on her face was clearly apparent.
Now her hands slid towards her pubic mound. He noticed it was bare, yet there were more markings over it. Another tattoo? The same elements of leaves and purple berry shapes featured again, but in a fanned arrangement pointing down to her opening. Then she opened her legs in such a slow deliberate way that the reveal seemed sure to be for the benefit of an audience. Yet Lachlan was still sure there had been no indication that she knew he was watching her. What he was watching now astounded him.
Between her legs – where he had wantonly anticipated some familiar sight of a woman’s labia and clitoral hood – six succulent translucent green-to-red folds fanned out like the petals of a fleshy orchid flower, in mesmerising contrast to mocha skin. Lachlan possessed some knowledge of Orchidaceae born of a fascination with the flowers he had seen on his many climbing expeditions. Overcoming his surprise he recognised the forms and now applied this knowledge to what he was seeing.
At the centre of this enticing flower form lay the deeply reddish pink entrance to her sex, clearly visible. Just above this protruded a bud, like the anther of such flowers, even deeper and more vibrant in colour, which he at once guessed was her clitoris. She began to flutteringly brush her fingertips over her labial petals, breathing in and out deeply and slowly, her breasts rising and falling in time. Gently she stroked the inner flesh of each petal in turn. Her thighs shuddered in the clear water sending out small rippling waves.
Lachlan was in awe of this creature: his heart beating ten-to-the-dozen, his veins coursing, limbs tensing and, in his tented combat trousers, he was rock hard and throbbing, oozing pre-cum beginning to show through. He couldn’t help but to move his hand unwittingly down squeeze around the shape of his shaft as he watched the creature circling her entrance with her fingertip, then sliding two of her slender fingers either side of her bud, rubbing back and forth and gasping softly. He rubbed his cock harder and circled his thumb over the swollen head through his trousers as he observed her sliding two fingers within herself.
She probed, twisted and thrust her fingers, reaching up within to stroke her hidden pleasure centres. Her spare hand moved to her breasts, cupping and softly squeezing as her whole body writhed in delight. Over and over she thrust her fingers deep then pulled them out to softly coat her bud with the juices from within. She lifted her sticky digits to her lips, caressing them lightly with her lips as though teasing herself. Gently she licked up and down each digit with her long purple pink tongue to draw the taste and scent of her flowering opening from their surface.
Tracing her hands over her cheeks and sliding them over her neck, around the curve of her breasts, down her stomach to her thighs she then slid her spread her petals wide and dipped and swirled her finger inside again. Her movement seemed design to rub her clitoral bud as she slid in and out of that luscious pink opening. The labial petals pulling inwards then opening out with each thrust and twist. Her legs kicked out splashing water all around. She seemed lost in erotic abandon.
Lachlan wanted to feel her, taste her, fuck her!
Her hips thrust upwards as she began to fuck herself harder. Grasping her breast firmly she built up and writhing rhythm, undulating through her body with each thrust of her fingers. Faster, harder, she was concentrating on a particular spot inside her now; over and over and over!
At once she convulsed in pleasure as a flooding of juices flecked with sparkling yellow and gold poured from her, gathering in a pool on the water’s surface where it shimmered for while before it dispersed and was absorbed. A trick of the mind, Lachlan almost thought he heard his name cried out breathlessly on the wind as the Dryad came. Her body relaxed from her orgasmic convulsions and fell gently back as she lay on the rock against which she had leant. Oh so lightly she let her fingertips dance up and down her body as she gently shivered and felt the last twinges pulse through her.
His heart pounded so hard in his chest Lachlan thought he might collapse. She still hadn’t seen him, of that he felt sure. He felt desire and burning lust in an all-encompassing manner beyond anything he could recall. He tried to remain still as the creature slowly rose, splashing more cooling water over her skin. As she got to her feet she left something on the ground that he couldn’t make out. Then, as she began to walk away, she turned her head over her shoulder and cast her mesmeric gaze directly at where he was hiding with a broad grin.
It… She had seen me!
As she disappeared back into the forest Lachlan jumped into the icey cool waters of the river pool and waded franticly over to where she had been. As he clambered onto the rock he saw what she had left there. A small branch of the leaves, berries and a panicle of flowers like the ones from her markings and necklace, along with a small gently curved shaving of bark. He picked up the bark and at once recognised it’s scent – cinnamon.
His thoughts gathered as old knowledge flooded back into his mind and the connections were made. She was a Dryad, a wood nymph, like those from ancient Greek mythology, connected implicitly with the tree they are born of. She was not just any wood nymph, she was a nymph of Cinnamomum verum, a Laurel tree – “true cinnamon” – and this offering was an invitation and a clue. Only once would a Dryad extend an invitation for human to her world. Finding the Dryad again would be another challenge. But Cinnamomum verum had no natural place in this forest of Elms.
Find the tree, find the Dryad.
I have made this a late entry to this week’s Wank Wednesday festival of smut from Ruby Kiddell of the eroticnotebook.co.uk. You can enter yourself and read all the other wonderful submissions by clicking on the logo.
Look out for more about what happens to Lachlan and his friends and their encounters with the Dryads in the mountain forests!