Preservation of Petrifiable Wood    

Preservation of Petrifiable Wood      
        
      We are a society ruled by women. Men have no economic or political power in our society. Only women can participate in our assemblies or hold office. Men are mainly breeding animals, much as cattle. We do breed with men. However, love, between men and women, is forbidden. Marriage is reserved solely as a union between women.  
     But my passion for men falls like the ruins of sanity in cascades of teardrops wept on rainy nights under the stars where unholy mantras of wolf howls dance on eardrums. The space-time fabric of celestial intoxication mates with rainbow nebulae whose galaxies collide with the ferocity of gladiators. My Amazon warrior woman armor is cast aside for neurotic hanky panky with troubadour men in full regalia of naked strength in the throes of Orphic mysteries for my sun which throbs in the heated crux of gates of Eden leading to my womanly warbling of soprano treble spilled on sheets of Zen satori.
     As a child, I was paired with Alana. Once in battle, she saved my life. She pulled me from the burning wreckage of a building. She nursed me and gave me back my life. For that, I am eternally grateful.  
      But then I met a young boy named Zach. He was a gangly boy, with a mop of raven black hair, and the cutest dimples. I fell madly in love with him at the age of eighteen. He whispered, “I love you.” I laughed. How silly the idea of love between a man and a woman seemed to me. But I loved him too. I did not speak it out of shame.  
     Indigo skies permutated into saturated obsidian summoning him to my corporeal parlor on nights in the makeshift bedrooms of the woods where we tripped with trepidation merrily to the tune of the magical minstrel galliards from the town square where skirts spun when darkness reigned in the apocalyptic squirrel’s nests of eternity but tickling like a feather upon the nexus of my hollow where songs left unsung quietly mulched till new tunes stretched tendrils rising as Opera notes, mad ones, whose pitch wavered in waxing wobbly wonder till time stood still in the moment of ascension.  
     My jaded smile belies the fakery of my relationship with Zach as Platonic on this my twenty-first orbit of the sun. I consider how tragic that my coquetry finds me old enough to imbibe liquor but forbidden to as a court lady for the queen. Yet more to my liking are my lips wrapped around Zach’s bottleneck.  
     But at long last, we were discovered. I got pregnant with Zach. Alana noticed that my periods had stopped. She saw me kiss Zach while I gathered water at the well. Zach would pay the price of the crime, for women were not held accountable in these matters. If not for the kiss I could have professed my relationship with Zach as purely for breeding and he would have been spared. But my brazen affection for a man doomed him.  
     Here I stand with my sisters. My worst nightmare unfolds. The night waxes lunar madness. Ankh necklaces are laced around our necks. The ancient drumbeat gathers us females around the sacred fire. I feel the cotton caress of my robe on my bare skin. I am bathed in wet heat. I longed to embrace my beloved Zach.  
     My heart trembles as I watch Zach being led to the post. My legs tremble as I watch him being tied to the post. I know what was in store for him. The Dark Guardian will sever his manhood from him. He will be a eunuch. After that, he will serve as an attendant to the queen’s concubines. Eunuchs make the best attendants since they can’t impregnate the queen’s consorts.
      I watch as the Dark Guardian stands before him, in her long flowing black robe, with her kinky raven hair falling down her shoulders in waves. She looks like an angel of death. Her eyes seem to glow like coals in the firelight. She is so beautiful, I think, but she is deadly like a poisonous snake. I am aghast as I watch her anoint his body with oil and rub it into his sex.  
     I look into his frightened eyes and he meets my gaze. I mouth the words, “I love you.” He looks at me beseechingly, as though he is begging for deliverance. He and I both know that it is in my power to save him. He will be spared if I agree to accept exile from my tribe. But I have never known any life apart from my sisters.  
     I remember tender moments when Alana massaged my tired shoulders after a strenuous sparing match with her. She gently applied ointment to my wounds when she scraped me with her knife. She taught me the most important lesson in life. Always be true to your deepest feelings. Never allow a passing fancy or mood to guide you. But if you feel something deep within your heart and it rings true follow this feeling. It will guide you out of the wilderness into the freedom of truth.  
     As I hear the Dark Guardian begin her chant, I stifle sobs deep in my chest. She prays to the White Goddess, that this sacrifice of Zach’s manhood will propitiate her. I feel like screaming when I watch her unsheathe her dagger. I am repulsed by the thought that this beautiful man, whom I had shared such deep passion with, is about to be mutilated.  
     Once I dreamed of being his wife and having his children. Though marriage between men and women is forbidden, I have heard about such unions from other tribes. I always wondered what it would be like to treat Zach as an equal. When I was little I was taught that men were animals.  
     But when he makes love to me I feel as though struck by lightning. I remember how my thighs quiver with pleasure, as he brings me to a place I have never imagined a man could take me. He takes me beyond my fear into a realm of light, love, and peace. Now he is about to be maimed. The very manhood, which brings me such transcendent ecstasy, is about to be severed from his body and thrown away like trash.  
     The Dark Guardian screams with cat-like howls. Her eyes glow with the fire of righteous indignation. Her howl sends waves of terror rippling through my body. I feel ripped apart. I know that as a sister of the coven, I am obligated to allow the ceremony to continue to its gruesome conclusion. However, I also know that if I choose, he will be spared.  
     But I don’t know if we can survive outside of the village. I have heard horror stories about what happens to young women who stray outside of our territory. Hostile male ruled tribes surround us. I can’t imagine the world on the outside. Though I have heard tell of a place far across the mountains where men and women lived as equals, but the journey there would be perilous.  
     However, I love Zach. I never thought I could love a man. This is the first time it has occurred to me to use the word love about my feelings for him. I know, at that moment, that I love him more than life itself. Deep in my soul, I feel overwhelmed by passion for him. I can no longer deny what my heart tells me.  
     I watch as the Dark Guardian grasps his genitals in her left hand and raises the dagger in her right hand. She begins to bring it down. I feel shock waves of terror, and shake, knowing the pain he will feel being damaged in such an intimate way. I feel the blood pumping through my heart, and my sex throbs, remembering the devastatingly delicious pleasure I feel when we make love.
     With lightning speed, a scream rips from my vocal cords. The force of my voice amazes me. My scream seems to echo. I feel as though I am in a dream. Nothing happening seems real. I watch as the Dark Guardian withdraws the dagger and sheathes it.  
     She releases his genitals and turns toward me. As she gazes into my eyes, I know I still have a chance to finish what I have begun. I can give her the ok to continue. But another voice speaks from my heart. I feel my lips open and my voice says softly, “Spare him.”
      She says, “Do not take lightly what you are saying. You know what this means.”
      I stand firmly and my trembling fades away. I say, “I know what will happen to us.”  
    She replies, “Is it worth it, for a man?”  
      I say, “I have feelings I have never known with anyone else for him. I need him. I can’t explain why.”  
      She says, “Do you need him more than Alana, your family, and your sisters?”  
     I say, “More than anything. I love him.” That is the first time I have spoken those words out loud.  
     She says, “Very well.” She turns to her attendants and says, “Release him!”  
     I feel a strange sort of freedom. The unreal feeling passes and everything comes back into focus. My heart leads me on a new and unknown path. My safe, orderly world is gone. I welcome the unknown. I want to be surprised. I watch, as Zach is untied from the post by the attendants.  
      They lead him to me and I lead him to his tent. There I lay him on a blanket to apply aloe to soothe the shock he must be feeling in his genitals. I begin to reach toward them to apply the lotion. He covers them with his hands and I see a look of fear on his face. I know that it will take time for him to learn to trust again.  Her scare tactics must have felt like a betrayal by the female gender.  
     He says, “The fear in my flesh will subside.”  
     I touch his cheek and say, “Darling, I have to do this. The sooner you learn to trust women the better it will sink in.” He nods and I gently remove his hands. He whimpers as I tenderly apply the cream to his groin. When I am finished; I kiss him and whisper, “I love you.”  
     He knows what price I have paid for his deliverance. He looks up at me with a furrowed brow and says, “I won’t let you do this. It’s too great a price for you to pay.”
      I caress his forehead lightly and gently push the locks of hair from his eyes. I say, “Nothing you can say will change my decision. I made it freely. It is my choice.” We both know that as a man he has no power to challenge my decision. I pull a cover over him and say, “My decision is final.”  
     He looks at me with his soft green eyes that speak to me with deep tenderness. Tears begin to appear which make him look so vulnerable. I wipe them away. I tell him, “Now go to sleep.”
     As he looks up at me I see deep gratitude in his face. His look communicates to me that deep in his soul he loves me more than his own life. In his eyes
I see the future.  
     We settle into the customs of a gender democracy. I say, “You know sweetie now that your banana is secure in its hammock, there may be elements of that ritual which could find a place in
our bedroom activities.”
     He says, “Your proposal is both enticing and foreboding.”
     “Take off your pants big boy along with your briefs. Easy access is the key here. We can’t afford any goof ups. This will be as much your treat as mine.”
      He slips out of his trousers like a schoolboy about to get corporal punishment.
     “I’m going to tie your wrists and ankles to the bedposts.” I bind him securely. I go to the kitchen and takes out a butter knife. I walk back in, brandishing it. The blade is made dull for spreading margarine instead of cutting steak. I aim it at his balls.
     I touch the tip of the knife onto his scrotum. I
push the flat heel of the blade between his balls leaving them hanging on either side. Then I stroke his cock with the flat backbone until his prick thickens ungovernably like a dare to me. His defiance in the face of my threat meets with my approval.
     I say “I’ll be right back. We need something soft like me to add to your pleasure.”
     I return from the cookery holding a stick of butter. “Honey, this is my soft side. Trust me you’ll enjoy what I do with the butter knife now. Lie back on the bed and spread your legs.” I butter up his pole with the flat blade caked in the dairy cream until it is slick and hard. I add hot spice to the ingredients with my lips and tongue.
     My burgundy stained lips sweeten his buttery dick with cherried kisses on his lemon ice cream. Pretty soon, the combination of the metal and dairy has him rolling under my strokes like a ship at sea. With a mighty plunge, he crashes into my wave with salty foam.
     My buttocks grasp his gaze as I swagger to the kitchen for a bite to eat. I call him “Would you like a turkey sandwich?”  
     “Yes and with mustard and mayo.”
      “Coming right up. You just rest there and I’ll take care of you.”
     “God I’m famished.”
     “A good fellatrice will do that to you.”