My Bentley glides silent through royal forest paths. Only elites know Le Tertre de la Magicienne. Presidential Oak looms, oldest sentinel, trunk thick as vault doors. Chauffer exits. Silver bucket chills Dom Perignon 1966. Crystal flutes clink. Bubbles burst sharp on tongue, like first kiss promise. Lover waits, heir to billions. His Armani suit hugs muscle. I step out, red hair cascading autumn fire over bare shoulders. Silk Versace clings damp from heat. Moss carpet soft under Louboutins. Hilltop view: hills roll to horizon, sunset paints gold. We sip. His fingers trace my thigh, leather skirt hikes. Air thick with pine, earth musk. Legends whisper here. First redhead came centuries ago. Sang to beasts. Bathed nude in rock pool, auburn bush gleaming wet. Animals charmed. Pure exclusivity. No crowds. Just us, power’s pinnacle.
He pulls me close. Lips crush mine. Saliva swaps, trophallaxis raw. Jacket drops. My blouse rips open. Nipples harden under his teeth. Bites sting sweet. Tongue dives to my core. Skirt shoved up. No panties. His face buries in my red thatch, wet and wild. Licks deep, clit throbs. I grind hips, moan into twilight. Moss yields like cashmere sheets. He sheds pants. Cock springs hard, veined fury. I kneel, taste salt pre-cum. Suck deep, gag eager. He groans. Flips me down. Legs spread wide. Thrusts in brutal. Fills me raw. No condom. Elite rules. Pounding relentless. Breasts bounce. I claw bark, roots grip like lovers’ hands. Orgasms crash, screams echo birdsong. He pulls out, spurts hot on belly. Again. And again. Sweat slicks skin. Like ancestors rutting here. Her lover too, healed by her herbs. They fucked wild under me—wait, the oak? Memories flood, ancient rage stirs.
The Privilege
Full moon bathes us. Afterglow hums. Then growls. Four shadows emerge. Brutes, known thugs from underbelly. Eyes lust black. ‘Come on, red, you’ll love this.’ Fist cracks lover’s jaw. He crumples. They grab me. Rip silk. Fingers invade rough. No. Horror loops: witch burned here, lover hanged from branches. My tree mother chopped for pyre. Enough. Winds howl unnatural. Branches crack. Trunk groans fury. Roots tear earth. Oak topples. Crushes them flat. Blood sprays. Bones snap. Silence falls. We huddle, shock numb. Gendarmes arrive. Bodies pulped under roots. No storm logged. No rot. ‘Forest wrath,’ we mutter. Medevac whisks us. Penthouse awaits, glass walls seal secrets. Champagne refills. Scars fade. Oak reborn in lore. I remember. Always.
