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memories of my ghost sista

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Tag Archives: mythology

yuki-onna, the snow woman

24 Thursday May 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, story

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Amaterasu, Ame No Uzume, Anei, Ankoku, cunnilingus, ghost bazaar, Hokkaido, Japan, kami, lesbians, mythology, Onna bugeisha, Snow woman, story, winter, Yuki-onna

yuki-onna, the snow woman

Ankoku had been walking toward home for just over an hour, but already the snow had drifted across the the main road that led out of town to such an extent that it was nearly invisible before her. The wind plucked at her robes, tore at her conical, woven hat, numbed her toes. Starting out from town had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she had six miles of open hills to go if she wanted to see her hut again.

The afternoon had been cold, exceedingly cold, when Ankoku turned aside from the main Hokkaido trail, climbed the high earth-bank where she paused for breath at the top. There was no sun nor hint of sun when the clouds hung that low over the sky. She tried to remember what she knew of predicting storms and weather lore, but she was woefully ignorant on such matters. There seemed an unidentifiable chill over the face of the earth, an insidious gloom that made the afternoon dark.

Ankoku flung a quick glance back along the strange, weird path she had come. The far northern island of Japan, Hokkaido, lay hidden under three feet of ice. On top of that was half a dozen feet of snow. It was all pure white, rolling in gentle undulations. As far as her eye could see, it was unbroken white.

She watched the first snow flakes float down, little hints of death in that deathly world. Was a storm coming? Yes, a storm was coming. Soon.

She plunged in among the big oak trees. The trail was faint. Ankoku was surprised, however, at the suddenly drop in temperature as she rubbed her nose with her hand. She experienced a vague but forbidding dread that drowned out all the confidence she had in herself about seeing home again. Six miles was nothing, she had told herself. Hadn’t she walked this same path over and over all these years? To teach her students at the village’s dojo required her endless walking. But not in weather like this. With a start she realized that the frozen wetness of her breathing had settled in a fine powder of frost, especially along her lips and nostrils; her eyelashes were whitened by crystallizing moisture.

What were the signs of freezing to death? she wondered. The extremities were the first to feel the absence of blood circulation. Then a sense of warmth. Hallucinations. A howling wind picked up as her exposed fingers began to go numb. Then came the snow. Out of nowhere a storm of titanic proportions crashed down upon her. She stumbled and fell to her knees in drifts three and four feet deep. Her nose and cheeks were already freezing; the skin of all her body chilled as it lost its blood.

How could a sword master, a female samurai no less, an Onna bugeisha no less, die through mere foolishness? When she fell down a second time, the shivering came more quickly upon Ankoku. She was losing in her battle with the storm. A deathly cold was creeping into her body from all sides. The thought of it drove her on, but she was able to move no more than a hundred feet, when she staggered, then pitched headlong into the snow.

It was sometime before Ankoku raised her head. It took all her strength to raise herself to her knees and elbows. When she looked up again out of the blinding snowstorm a figure appeared, moving slowly through the snow. Ankoku had been raised on stories of the Yuki-onna, the Snow woman, who could only be seen in the heart of a snowstorm and used her icy breath to leave stranded travelers as frost-coated corpses. Was this death coming to visit? Did death look this beautiful?

The woman who approached the female samurai was indeed beautiful, with long black hair and blue lips. Her inhumanly pale skin made her blend into the ashy-white landscape and the sky-blue robes that billowed around her only added to her other-worldly appearance. She was a creature that lived only in this frozen world. At first she walked a route that would pass distance away from the fallen Ankoku but upon seeing the stranger on her hands and knees she altered her course and walked directly up to Ankoku.

“Sensei? Is that really you?”

Ankoku blinked, rubbed the ice away from her lashes. The Snow woman still stood in front of her, offering a outstretched hand; yet it was no longer a mountain spirit but a former student, a village girl from her dojo, one who she had been friendly with a couple of years back.

“Anei-chan! Is it you?” Ankoku croaked through cracked lips. “What are you doing out in this hell?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Sensei. Where are you heading?”

“I’m trying to make it home. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Home?” the younger woman said, her lips curving up into a smile. “I think, Sensei, that might be a little ambitious on a day like today. Come with me, my hut is close.”

“O!” Ankoku paused to smile, getting to her feet. “That would be wonderful of you. I’m so glad you found me.”

With that they turned around and began retracing the steps the older woman had taken. Anei had no problem on the snow covered world, though Ankoku found herself slipping often. She finally took Anei’s offered hand to steady her and they walked in silence for some time like that until they reached the outskirts of the village.

“Sensei do you mind if we stop off at the ghost bazaar? I have nothing to feed you just now.”

Despite the storm it was warm inside the little store that served as the village bazaar. Despite the long winter months lining the walls was produce, dried seafood, Chinese spices, Korean curios, Ainu crafts, devil jewelry and ancient hex coins. Ankoku loosened the scarf around her neck and cast an approving eye at her former student. Anei had to be at least twenty-two by now, if that. She found that Anei’s eyes lingered on her breasts, outlined by her tight fitting kimono. She caught her eyes looking at her nipples.

“So, Anei-chan, what do you need?” she asked in a husky voice.

“Something to make Sensei forget the cold.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Ankoku looked at the younger woman with a smile, watched with delight as Anei’s face lit up a wicked grin. It surprised her but that wonderful warm wet feeling was invading her cunt. She decided to be more daring, said, “Then maybe in the morning you can come with me to my home and I can repay the favor?”

“O, I think we might be snowed in for days.”

Anei placed her hand on Ankoku’s arm, squeezed.

* * *

Anei’s hut was simply one low-ceiling room, but it warm and snug. Before Ankoku could even remove her outer robes Anei reached over, pulling her to her by the scarf around her neck. She kissed her wetly on the lips, forcing them open with her tongue. She let her tongue play in Ankoku’s mouth, taking her breath away like a shot of ice wind. After sucking on her bottom lip, biting it gently, she looked directly into her eyes, said, “I have wanted to do that ever since you agreed to train me as your student. Sensei has the sexiest lips.”

They had too many clothes on to touch each other anywhere they wanted; finally Anei pulled away, leading her guest into the center of her hut.

Anei’s fingers reached for her obi sash on Ankoku’s robe, clumsily getting it open. Her hands immediately found the older woman’s breasts. The Onna bugeisha leaned back against the wall, her eyes were closed, letting Anei squeeze and rub her. All she wanted to do was get her mouth one of Ankoku’s tits, as much she could. Biting, sucking, pulling; Anei sucked so loud, so hard, trying to devour it all that she could feel her teacher shudder through the tip of her own nipple. Gasping for air, Ankoku pulled away, stroking the younger woman’s hair, sending shivers all over her body.

Together they unrolled Anei’s sleeping mats and blankets then she silently began to undress her. First her coat and scarf were tossed aside. Stepping behind her, she pushed her long dark hair to the side, kissing the back of her neck, while her hands slid around to cup her breasts, feeling her nipples harden as she kissed. Her kisses turned to nibbles as her fingers found each nipple, pinching them gently. The moan that escaped from her lips told her that she was getting it right. She turned the older woman around, took her in her arms, kissed her hard on the lips, sliding her tongue deep into her throat, letting her hands slide down her back, scratching her lightly with her blue fingertips.

Stripping off her own clothing without a word, Anei, without breaking eye contact she slowly, seductively dropped to her knees, pressing her face into Ankoku’s curly cunt, inhaling deeply. Ankoku could feel the younger woman’s tongue lapping at her girl lips, tickling her with her light touch. She felt her knees buckle, she was in agony, nearly fell, but Anei grabbed her, helped to lower her to the floor. Kneeling over her, didn’t leave her teacher in agony for long. She lowered herself to her, laying her body on top of her own, breast to breast, nipple to nipple, cunt to cunt, open lips to open lips. Ankoku started to wrap her arms around Anei, but the other simply grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head. She lowered her face close to Ankoku’s, licked her slowly with her wide, flat tongue, tasting her cheeks, her hair, her forehead, her chin, her neck. Ankoku’s mouth opened wide, hoping to take her in, but Anei simply, teasingly traced her lips ever so lightly, tickling her with the very edge of her wet tongue.

Anei’s hard nipples seemed to burn into Ankoku’s flesh. The mound of her cunt was melting into hers. She lay very still, just feeling her student breathing against her neck. Then Anei’s lips softly touched her skin, nibbled at her ear. Ankoku moaned, whimpered, “O, please, Anei, please.”

“Sensei, I imagined this moment a thousand times as your pupil. I undressed you very day, made love to you in your dojo. Nothing can live up to what I am experiencing right now with you naked, begging to me.”

Without saying another word, Anei kissed her mouth, then started to move down her body. She sucked upon her neck, nibbled at her ears, bit her nipples, licked her belly, kissed the scars that formed a curious cross on her right thing, finally breathed on her cunt; her wet, dripping, aching, throbbing cunt. Ankoku saw Anei’s absurdly tongue move closer to her as she stretched from of her mouth, touching her girl lips, dragging it slowly up from the bottom to her clit. She moaned, squirmed, cried out from the thrill of her touch. Anei did it again, pressing harder, moving just a little bit faster. Ankoku was jerking her hips, trying to grind her open cunt into her face. Anei slid her hands under her ass, pulled Ankoku even tighter to her mouth, pushed her tongue deep into her wet cunt. Now the older woman was moaning like a nine-tailed fox, begging for her touch, needing her to fuck her, to suck her, to do anything she wanted to her.

“Sensei, you have me so wet. I want to be your vixen …”

The rest of her words were drowned out as Ankoku felt Anei grab both of her ass cheeks, drive her demonic tongue deep into her vagina, up against the back wall.

“How?” she gasped while, wiggling around inside of her, she could feel Anei tongue and caress her inner muscles.

“Come on Sensei, pump those hips, force that cunt of yours to cum over my face, over my lips. Fuck me Sensei! Fuck this bad vixen! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

She wanted her to crawl inside of her teacher. She was slamming her cunt into her, she responded by thrusting her tongue in hard, faster. All Ankoku could do was moan, whimper. “It is so good, so good. Anei I am so close to cumming!”

“I want you to cum for me, Sensei. I want you to cum for your dirty, little vixen. I want to suck the cum from you cunt.”

Ankoku felt that wonderful slow burn start in her clit, then spread everywhere. It moved end-to-end in her entire cunt, up her arms to her fingers.

“O Anei, don’t stop, please, I am going to cum!”

Ankoku sucked in her cheeks, stopped breathing then it hit her like an earthquake, rocking her cunt, sending aftershocks coursing throughout her entire soul. Anei never let go; her hands were holding on tightly to her ass, her tongue still deep inside of her. Ankoku’s thighs had her head pinned, never wanting her to breath again.

Slowly, her breathless gasps returned to normal, her muscles relaxed.

Laughing Anei said, “Sensei, that was worth the wait!”

“O love, come here, let me hold you.”

They lay in each other’s arms for a long time. Ankoku was experiencing hungers she hadn’t felt in years, food she hadn’t tasted since her love had died. She stroked Anei’s hair, kissed her head. Looking around the room her eyes fell upon a scroll hanging from the wall, the only art in the entire hut.

“What is that?” she asked dreamily.

“That? That is the story of the great goddess Amaterasu who fled with her brother, Susa no O, into a cave, depriving the Earth of sunlight and warmth. In order to cajole Amaterasu from the cave, the deity of naughty girl love, Ame No Uzume, performed an erotic dance that involved flashing her breasts and cunt, inviting Amaterasu to taste them. Legend says that as Amaterasu stepped out of the cave Ame No Uzume held up a mirror; the combination of a going now on a goddess and watching her reflection while doing it got Amaterasu so excited that she took the nasty kami into the sky with her to be her soul mate and restore the sun back to the earth.”

While she was talking Ankoku’s hand slid down her back, enjoying the sensation of her hand on such soft skin. She kissed the younger woman’s neck, lifted her fingers to her lips so she could kiss them. She rolled Anei over onto her back, kissed her sensuous mouth, sucking at her lips.

“Please Sensei, please touch my cunt. Rub my cunt, please!”

Without a word, she quickly slid in between Anei’s legs. She pushed her thighs open wide, pressed her face into her, kissing her wet, swollen cunt lips. Anei gasped as her tongue made contact. She let her tongue explore the soft fold of skin, licking, sucking as her former student squirmed under her.

“Lick me, oh please, lick me. My cunt needs to be licked so bad!”

Splitting open her sticky labia with her tongue Ankoku ended up lingering on her clit. The sounds of her whimpering drove her crazy and Ankoku drove her harder, faster, finishing each stroke lapping at her clit.

“O, Sensei, I have been naughty, seducing my pure teacher like this. Spank me, Sensei, spank your horrible vixen.”

A cock-sure laugh escaped from Ankoku, she caressed the other’s beautiful ass, teasing her wet cunt with her fingertips.

“So you wanted to fuck your teacher, Anei-chan? Let me show you show it is done.”

Ankoku spanked the upturned ass with her open hand, feeling it sting on her palm, watching Anei’s cheek turn red where it was struck. Anei, startled, gasped, then moaned at the touch. Ankoku quickly spanked her again, then again, then again. Anei was whimpering, writhing under her. She could see how wet her cunt had gotten Anei was begging her to stop, long after her cheeks were a painful shade of red. When Ankoku finally did she lowered her head to her redden skin, kissing her bum softly, licking the marks left her her fingers.

“Anei-chan, get up on your hands, knees, darling, I want your ass.”

Holding her by the hips, Ankoku probed her cunt with her tongue and two fingers. Anei pushed back against her, letting her know who was in command. Once a samurai, always a samurai. Holding her tightly, Ankoku drove hard into her cunt with her tongue deep, started finger fucking her slowly, letting the sensation in her cunt build.

“O Sensei, I want to cum for you. I want to be your little nine-tailed shameless woman!”

Hearing Anei talk like that drove Ankoku into another frenzy. She soon had the younger woman bucking hard against her face as she drove her fingers in and out of her, fucking her wildly.

“You taste so good, Anei. Cum for me, baby, cum for me.”

They were both covered with sweat and cum, working hard to push Anei right over the edge. Ankoku’s fingers reached up into her, to that spot, that spot that —

— she let out a sharp gasp as she jacked her fingers deeper inside. Ankoku felt Anei’s muscles start to spasm, knew she was close to cumming. In, out, harder, faster, rubbing her clit, until she felt her tense up, stop moving. The pause, that wonderful pause; Anei screamed just before the big release hit her body, sending her thrashing as the orgasmic wave engulfed her. Her arms, legs would not hold her up, they both collapsed onto the floor. Both of them gasping for air. She crawled up into her arms, lay there completely exhausted, but happy. She kissed her softly, she held her tightly. After several minutes, Anei noticed the smile on her face, asked her what she was thinking.

“Less than three hours ago I was freezing to death in a snowstorm,” Ankoku smiled. “Now here I am, in the arms of my former student, well fucked. I suppose if I believed in ghosts I’d say you had come to rescue me.”

“O? Sensei doesn’t believe in ghosts?”

“Er, no, of course not. Why, do you?”

“I will believe in anything that makes Sensei happy.”

“It’s funny, the first time I saw you walking nearly naked through the snow I immediately thought of that old fairy tale about the Yuki-onna, the Snow woman.”

“O? And why is that funny to Sensei?”

“Because it’s a fairy tale. I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Hmm, Sensei says she doesn’t believe in ghosts but if she woke up tomorrow morning naked in a snow drift where my home now stands, how would she be able to explain that?”

“I don’t know, is that the sort of thing that is likely to happen?”

“Not if you love me.”

“You never explained to me what you were doing out in that blizzard in the first place.”

“You never asked me why I now have blue lips.”

“Does it matter?”

“Not if you love me. Hold onto me, Sensei.”

“Like this?”

“Tighter.”

“Like this?”

“Tighter! Yes, like that. Hold me, please, hold me, sleep in my arms all winter long.”

Then the Onna bugeisha drowsed off into what seemed to Ankoku the most comfortable and satisfying sleep she had ever known and the brief twilight drew to a close into a long, slow night.

um tarot suja — looking for lilith

16 Saturday Jul 2011

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Lilith, tarot

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Tags

art, erotic, Lilith, mythology, Tarot

At some point you just have to shrug your shoulders and let it roll on by. Does it matter that people get it wrong? Of course not, everyone is entitled to their beliefs and if it doesn’t match my own then that is fine too. Only a fascist would get upset over an iconic representation of something that, for all intents and purposes, has no iconic representation. A graven image, I mean. The kind of thing people still get stoned to death for creating in certain parts of the world. That’s the problem with a Mystery — a divine Mystery — there is no way we can wrap our heads around it. By its very definition a Mystery is unknowable — it wouldn’t be a Mystery if we understood it, now would it?

I say all this because I’ve been looking for the Empress of my deck: Lilith. As the blues singer Ida Cox sang, “Wild Women Don’t Have The Blues,” and Lilith was the wildest of them all. The problem is, though, that the representations out there (at least on the Internet) don’t hit home as what I’m looking for. Just google her name and you get 2,440,000 image results; giant tits and bat wings seem to a favorite for a lot of artists. A lot of them look like copies of the freaky She-Devils on the cover of the Lords of Acid’s Voodoo U.

There’s nothing wrong with blood red skin and giant tits and bat wings if you’ve got them, but it resonates with me as much as pictures of a blue eyed, blonde hair Jesus do — maybe that’s what people in Gary, Indiana cream their panties over but it doesn’t do a lot for me.

The things is that there are ancient images of Lilith as how she was thought to have looked way back when. The Babylonians couldn’t get enough of her. There is a famous statue of her with crow feet, surrounded by owls, the messengers of the night. This image, though, while appearing in some 1910 Tarot decks, seems to not have made it into modern times all that much.

July 16, 2011 [1]

And, sort of like how images of Midwest Hippie Jesus make me laugh at the idea that someone from Jerusalem could look so Gringo, if you think about it, there’s no reason that representations of Lilith should have the sharp Germanic features so many artists give her. Rarely do you get to see Lilith look like she’s actually from the Middle East.

July 16, 2011 [2]

If she doesn’t have bat wings, then often she’s portrayed as a satyr: one of the goat-legged fuck-bunnies from Greek mythology. There’s worse ways to spend one’s life than living in the Arcadian forest and fucking anything that moves, I suppose. Still, a satyr is a satyr and while I can imagine that Lilith might have taken her fair share of satyrs to bed (when you’re the Queen of the Night you do have a reputation to uphold), I can’t really see how her goat legs would have gotten left out in her description, being the Mother of a Mixed Multitude, and all.

And finally, there’s the kink. Because Lilith was kicked out of the Garden of Eden for refusing to be submissive to that limp-dick Adam (seriously, if the Missionary Position is the only thing that works for you then perhaps you might want to rethink this whole “Father of Humanity” role a bit) and as a result Lilith has been ascribed every base vice known — from S & M to drag queens to dental dams. Which is why, if you’re making an erotic Tarot deck, having her as the keeper of all wisdom makes sense. Now if only I could find an image of her I agree with. Hmm …

canção de lorelei

07 Saturday May 2011

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

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canção de lorelei, Lorelei, mermaid, mythology, Portuguese, shark, translation

Seja canção de Lorelei
ou o tubarão no mar.
De onda gigante onde,
como um orgasmo,
espera e anoitece
O teu corpo afogamento,
um sereia rara.

English:

Be a song of Lorelei or the shark in the sea. Where the giant wave, like an orgasm, waits and grows dark. Your body drowning, a rare mermaid.

vagina dentata

02 Wednesday Jun 2010

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

knockin' boots, mythology, sonnet, vagina dentata

cultures have folk tales about women
with toothed vaginas, frequently told
as cautionary tales warning of the
dangers of sex with strange women


Teeth in your cunt? Take me, I’m yours, because

I want it nasty, girl. Always obscene

hunger is so hard to please. Please. Rougher

fuckin’ our cock and cunt will let us knock

boots: wet as dreams, long as a bullgod’s cock.

Is it wrong to say you’ll cum like thunder?

Cum like black heat? Let me unfold between

your legs, feel your sharp heat. Will your toothed jaws
 
let me explode deep inside you? — making
all tight things cum in a confused climax.
Life is short and sex is so amazing.
Make me bleed the way that acid flashbacks,
ice cubes, whips, candle wax all make me bleed
in you. I need you. I need you. I need —

dionysus caress

28 Friday May 2010

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

Astghik, incest, my new mother's foundling, mythology, She Who Cannot Be Named, sonnet, The Goddess, the underworld

On my thirteenth summer Astghik found me.
The cave had become foul. Scraps of blue bear
and dove, dropped, half chewed. She took me, dirty
half-cub, down into the sunlit fields where
I learned all the stories of her silent
mother’s people. There were The Beginnings:
the names of the Goddess and her descent
to the Underworld. There were The Meanings:
all Her trees. All the nameable creatures
and all that was not. I grew. During this
Astghik fed me on goat milk, her nightdress
hanging loose. Caress. Soon my new mother’s
foundling could not wait for each new smell, kiss,
touch. Soon all I wanted was her caress.

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