Page 21 of Christa's Obsession

I know. I can’t think past…

Her heart slammed against her ribs at the echo of a demon shouting in the forest. His voice rebounded off branches as he called out. Fear ground her thoughts to a halt. Held her hostage as the glass slipped through her limp fingers. Peach juice soaked the front of her dress, but she didn’t feel the wetness.

They’ve come for me.

Hair flying around her pale cheeks, she searched the trees beyond the orchard, terrified of what she might see but unable to stop herself.

He’s not here to harm.

The words floated through her mind, but the panic blinded her to them. Moments later, she became cocooned within the branches of her girls. They shielded her to the outside world as they had always done.

Will they get in? Please tell me.

Shush, my love, he’s not here to harm you.

She felt enormous feet hitting the ground. It vibrated up through the soil and through the roots of her trees. The distance meant nothing with how fast the memories of what happened to her resurfaced. Wanda’s heart raced so hard she trembled violently, cowering back, working to make herself as small as possible.

We swear, he’s not here to hurt anyone,her trees whispered again while branches stroked over her trembling limbs, working to distract her.You are safe. We swear it.

The power behind the words helped as the branches continued to act as a distraction, slipping under the sleeves of her shift dress to slide over the tender swell of her breasts.

Her breath caught at the tweaks to her nipples, making her gasp and warmth gather between her thighs.

That’s it, our beloved, feel us.

Her arms relaxed at their encouragement, uncrossing to free her upper body.

Focus on us. On how your body feels when we touch you.

She could do nothing more when they knew exactly how much pressure to apply. A branch pushed up her dress to get to what it wanted. A soft leaf roamed over her swollen lips, the hood of her clit exposed as a tiny branch pierced a ripe peach, coating it with pulp and juice. It remained suspended between her thighs, the juice dripping between her folds.

Do you want to feel it touch you? Or is it just the feel of the juice trickling over your clit you want? Do you want us to tease you until you need more? Until you beg for Christa’s mouth to touch you like we cannot?

The words had as much effect on her as the trees’ touch. Already anticipating their touch, she lost focus on the muffled sounds beyond the branches. Her eyelids fluttered closed as her dress disappeared.

Soft air brushed her sensitive skin as leaves floated over her, barely touching her. They fluttered in small caresses, touching her breasts and teasing her nipples until they ached for more pressure. Her voluptuous thighs parted willingly as branchescaptured her hands. Her fingers curled around the smooth bark and clung on. Each touch made her think of nothing but the next one. Where would it be? If they would merely excite or give her what she craved.

“Touch me,” she begged. “Make me forget. Make me believe it’s Christa touching me.” She finished on a moan, lost to the vividness of her imagination, smelling Christa’s delicious fragrance. Could recall everything she had done to herself the night before with the hope that her trees had cast a spell to enable Christa to see and she had willingly looked.

“Did you see me, Christa?” she murmured aloud, lost to the pleasure.

A dream spell had never felt so real, and in that moment, she clung to it when soft hands touched her foot and Christa’s voice murmured, “yes.”

A hand… a real, warm hand… Wanda’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped at the sight before her. Her hands clung to the branches.

What did you do?

What you wanted.

How?

Does it matter? She came to us.

The trees had expanded her nook and Christa sat at her feet, dressed in her fancy clothes, her hair flowing over shoulders and down her back in a black silky waterfall of curls. Her make-up was perfect and her lips looked as ripe as Wanda’s peaches. She should have looked out of place, yet inside Wanda’s tree nook, she seemed…at home.

How could that be?

She belongs to us.

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