Don’t Mess with Maala

by Cristiano Caffieri

Meeting Aicha
My name is Caelan Foley, I’ve always been lucky in an unlucky sort of way. For example, I met my ex-wife when I went over to her mansion to do some carpentry work. She’d been divorced for three months and although she had received a huge financial settlement and the house from her ex, she was miserable.

Now – I hate to see anyone crying and I tried to comfort her, this led to me putting my arms around her, which led to me kissing her that led to an incredibly good fuck, and to cut a long story short we got married. We were actually happy together for a while. I didn’t have to work anymore and spent most of my time painting pictures, which was my passion, and she socialized.

Unfortunately, her socializing often involved meeting up with handsome men and one day she decided that I was yesterday’s news and an Italian Count encouraged her to marry him and move to his castle in Lombardy. I quickly overcame my anguish when my wife offered me $2,000,000 for a quick divorce.

I was relieved in a way because I was not really fond of her snooty friends and it gave me the freedom to wander the world and paint. In spite of planning to go to everywhere from Australia to Zambia I ended up in St. Tropez in the south of France, it’s the kind of place that’s difficult to part company with once you’ve settled in.

I’d been there about three months when I met Aicha. I was looking for a place to sit at a sidewalk cafe when I saw a vacant chair at a table occupied by this gorgeous black girl. She smiled when I asked if I could join her and that darn smile had me hooked.

We got into conversation and I was surprised to find she was a member of some kind of spiritual group that lived on an island some twenty minutes off the coast called the Île du Soleil. The inhabitants were all women and she was the cook.

“Being a cook enables me to come into St. Tropez once a week to pick up a few things we need,” she said, “We are pretty self sufficient but there’s always a few worldly goods we can’t produce.”

I was really intrigued and asked her, if there was any chance I could visit the island and do a little painting.

“I’m afraid men are not allowed,” she laughed, “Even the fisherman that runs me back and forth is not allowed to set one foot outside his leaky old boat.”

“Perhaps I could buy you a coffee – or even lunch next time you’re out here,” I spluttered, as she got up to leave. Amazingly she said, “OK. I’ll see you next week.”

Arranging another meeting had been so easy I couldn’t believe my luck. However, after mulling it over in my mind I came to the conclusion that being cooped up on an isolated island with a bunch of women probably made her crave a little male company, and maybe – just maybe, she craved a little more than that.

As crazy as it seems I could hardly get any work done for thinking about her. I couldn’t get her smile, her eyes or her ass out of my mind, and seven days never passed so slowly.

When Saturday eventually arrived I got to the restaurant half an hour early. I could see the quay and I watched every boat that pulled in hoping it was her. Almost an hour later I was still sitting there with my heart in my boots. But then I saw this old tub docking and out jumped Aicha.

She was wearing the same gold metal band around her head as she was the last time we met. When I asked her if it had some religious significance she went strangely quiet. During lunch, she did tell me that her last name was Callimachi and she was from the Ivory Coast, in Africa, but that was about all.

The problem was I had become fascinated by her, which was kind of frustrating because I figured if she was like a nun or something; the likelihood of this going any further was remote. However, when I mentioned that I was a painter, she became very interested in me and said she’d like to see my work.

After I’d paid for lunch I escorted her through narrow streets of historic St. Tropez to my apartment/studio. She picked up several paintings and admired them but I had the feeling that she was more interested in me. When I happen to lean over her shoulder to explain something she’d spotted in one of the pictures she turned her head and our lips met. I couldn’t really believe what was happening next as she put the painting on the table, draped her arms around my neck and explored my mouth with her tongue.

I had no idea how far she was prepared to go but when her hand rubbed gently over my dick, which was bulging out of my pants, I had a good idea. Unbuttoning that simple cotton dress she was wearing, I lifted up her lacey bra and started to fondle her tits. She took a deep breath and crushed her lips against mine until it hurt.

My hand fell to the hem of her dress and I stealthily moved it up until I reached her panties. Working my way around the narrow strip that covered her crack, I fingered the soft warm petals and she gasped. The heat was on.

Now I knew she was prepared for me to fuck her I slipped her dress over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She took off her bra and panties while I struggled out of my clothes.

Once we were both naked we just stood and looked at each other for a while, then she smiled and I took her in my arms and pressed her tits hard against my chest. My cock rubbed against her leg and she dropped her hand down to feel it, then I quickly picked her up, carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

Her beautiful black body, just wearing that solitary gold headband, took my breath away. Taking hold of her ankles I parted her legs and moved up between her thighs until my lips gently flicked her hairy muff. She reacted as though she’d been shot, her body stiffened up and she grabbed onto my shoulders and dug her nails into my flesh. I paused for just a second before parting the lips of her vagina and sliding my tongue up and down her silky moist warm crack, and then I reached up with both hands and pinched her erect nipples as I continued to eat her out.

Aicha squirmed her ass around impatiently as if she wanted me to insert my cock, but I then remembered that I didn’t have any condoms in the house and so I asked her if she was on the pill.

“This is my first time,” she half-whispered, “I can’t get pregnant the first time.”

I was shocked by this revelation and also mystified where her logic came from. However, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do and so I decided to penetrate her as gently as possible. This didn’t work so I had to force it in. She cried out at first but then settled down as I slid it in and out slowly.

Looking down at her as I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be fucking such a lovely young woman, and I was soon driven to pump it into her faster and faster. With my balls on fire I shot my semen deep inside of her as she wrapped her legs around me, moaning and groaning as she did so.

I wasn’t sure whether she had an orgasm or not, it was all a bit confusing and to make matters worse she quickly got up and told me she had to hurry, as she had to pick up some things and get back to the island. After she’d given me a little kiss she left and we hadn’t even arranged our next meeting. Regardless I decided I was going to wait for her in the restaurant the following week.

In the meantime I began to paint like Van Gogh on Speed – I was inspired! Part of the time I painted down by the quay just in case she paid an impromptu visit and when the weather was bad I retired to my studio and tried to capture her beautiful face on canvas. Working from memory was not easy but I kept at it and somewhat satisfied with the results, I hung on the wall so that I could see it from my bed.

On the Saturday I waited for her at the café by the quay for almost two hours, I drank so much coffee I almost peed my pants as I didn’t want to leave my seat in case I missed her. The boat never came that Saturday, it did the following one but it was not Aicha that stepped out but another slightly older woman. I knew she was from the island as she wore that distinctive gold band, that I presumed they all wore.

I was tempted to approach her and asked about Aicha but I didn’t want to cause any trouble and so I thought I’d have to be patient. It paid off, on the third Saturday she stepped out on the quay and I couldn’t wait to throw my arms around her and give her a hug.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered in my ear, “It’s not going to work.”

It was as if she’d stabbed me through the heart, I couldn’t believe what she was saying and I was even confused about my own feelings for her. How the hell could I be in love with someone I’d only met a couple of times and fucked once. But I was.

Now she didn’t want to associate with me anymore, she even pulled away from me when I took her arm. After some begging on my part she agreed to have a coffee. She was strangely silent until I began to bring up our little escapade at my studio.

“That was a mistake,” she said, “I can’t build a relationship with someone from the outside world – it’s not possible!” She began to cry.

Eventually, I persuaded her to come to my place for a talk with the promise that I would behave myself. I tried to hold her hand as we walked along but she pulled away from me. When we arrived at my studio I offered her a glass of wine and she accepted. I then asked her to be honest with me.

“Look,” she said grimly, “Maala the high priestess rescued me from poverty and took me to the Île du Soleil. When I became friendly with you I broke her trust.”

“Do you really like being part of the community?” I asked.

“I used to,” she sniffled,”

“And now you don’t?”

She turned her head away from me and in a very low voice she said she was beginning to feel caged – like one of those battery chickens.

“I long for freedom,” she sighed, “but that’s not possible.”


“Because Maala has powers, that’s how she keeps the community together.”

“What kind of powers?”

“Magical powers.”

I would like to have said bullshit at this point but I didn’t want to upset her. However, she saw the expression of disbelief on my face.

“Do you see this gold band,” she asked, touching it with her fingers.

“Of course I see it – so?”

“If I take this off I become disoriented, I become like a mad person, this is how Maala keeps us in check – no one can break away. On the island I don’t have to wear it,” she said, “But here onshore I have to.”

Once again I’m tempted to say bullshit but then she said that she once took it off for just a few seconds and had to quickly put it back on as she was in a state of total confusion,

“Another thirty seconds and I would have been a babbling idiot.”

Of course, I was convinced that it was nothing more than the power of suggestion but I didn’t want to question her belief. I thought perhaps if I could persuade her to meet me each Saturday for lunch I could gradually convince her that she was free and there was no such thing as magical powers.

When she’d finished her wine she was more relaxed and she asked me if I had any condoms, when I said yes, she began to take off her clothes and head to the bedroom. I was ripping off my shirt and pants as I followed her and I was determined to give her the biggest and best orgasm any woman had ever had.

As she lay there naked on the covers I lay over her and began to suck her tits. She arched her back, whined and ran her hands up and down my shoulders. I traced my tongue between her tits and down to her naval and then onto her quivering quim. Just like the first time I probed her bush, she went rigid for a couple of seconds, and then relaxed as I flicked my tongue up and down her lips.

It didn’t take long before she started to tremble and then it turned into quite a violent shaking and she called out, “OMG.”

I didn’t waste any time, after slipping on a condom I rammed it into her tight cunt and I fucked her like someone gone berserk. I couldn’t help myself, I just wanted to cum so bad. When I blew my load she grabbed onto my face and began to kiss me all over, and whispered, “I love you, I love you,” over and over again.

Just as before, she got up rather quickly and dressed, saying that she had to get back but this time she kissed me passionately before leaving and told me she’d see me next Saturday. I was on cloud nine – well sort of. I still didn’t know how I was going to get her away from that cult but I didn’t have to concoct a plan because when we met the next time – she had one.

Magical Recipe?
“Maala has this mixture locked up in her safe in case one of the girls gets into an accident while they’re on shore and become separated from their headband. I can’t get my hands on that but I did find the recipe and I’ve copied it.”

She handed me a paper with a list of herbs and other ingredients.

“Some you can get at the drug store in town but there are some Asian medicines that you might have to go to Nice for. You could administer some of this to me when I take the band off and I should be Ok. At least I hope so.”

As skeptical as I was I took the paper and promised that I would mix up this magical goop for next Saturday, then we went back to my place and she attempted her first blow job – it was 8 out of 10, then we did it doggie fashion and that was absolutely fantastic.

I dedicated my entire week to mixing up this awful smelling potion. As studied the recipe I thought that there was a good chance she wouldn’t know the difference if I gave her a shot of cough syrup, and it may well have had the same psychological effect. However, I had promised her I’d do it the right way and so I traveled over to Nice, bought a few art supplies and then ventured into a store selling weird Oriental concoctions.

The old woman who owned the place looked at me suspiciously when I struggled to pronounce some of the ingredients from the piece of paper Aicha gave me.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, as she measured out something that looked like dried up lizards and dropped them into a brown paper bag, “Some of these things are very powerful – very powerful indeed.”

By the time she’d finished making up my order, she was giving me the creeps and so I was glad to get out of the place and head back home. Feeling like a medieval alchemist I stirred the prescribed mixture on the stove and had a bit of fun making up some incantations of my own. The stray cat that was always hanging around my place didn’t seem to appreciate my efforts, she freaked out and hid under the cupboard but it only took a bit of Mackerel to coax her back out again.

The following Saturday I parked my airbrushed van as close as I could to the quay and waited nervously with my little green bottle at the ready. When I saw the boat about to dock my heart started to pound like a jackhammer.

The captain pulled it into shore and then Aicha took off her gold headband, handed it to him and climbed out. Almost immediately she began to stagger around like someone drunk. I rushed over and forced the bottle to her lips, while bystanders stared as if I was a kidnapper, but true to human nature no one intervened.

I managed to get her to the van and I was quite worried as she didn’t seem to know me for several minutes, she was perspiring, breathing heavy and gibbering incoherently. Worried that she was having a negative reaction to the shit I’d given her, I was planning to drive her straight to the hospital but then she started to come around. She smiled at me and whispered,

“I think we did it.”

Parking as close as I could to my studio, I then helped her along the street and up the steps.

She flopped into a chair and I made some strong coffee. I was not convinced that we were out of the woods yet so I kept checking her pulse and feeling her forehead as if I knew what I was doing. It was about half an hour before she became really lucid and then I decided that I was right – it was just a psychological state she was in, there was certainly no magic involved.

As she became more and more talkative we discussed our next move. I didn’t think she’d want to bump into the High Priestess or any of the other members of the sect in town, and so I suggested that we should pack up in a couple of days and relocate to some other spot along the Riviera. She appeared to like that idea and snuggled up to me on the sofa, assuring me that as long as I was by her side she’d be happy anywhere.

Suddenly a really strong wind came up outside, the Venetian shutters to my balcony burst open with a bang and all kinds of garbage blew in off the street. One large piece of paper spread itself out across the wall and scrawled across it in large letters were the words: “So you want to Play Games”

“O my God it’s Maala!” Aicha screamed holding onto me so tight I could hardly breathe.

It was all so sudden and so violent I almost shit myself but I knew I had to keep calm to get us through this situation – whatever it was. I was reluctant to think this was some sort of evil magic but I certainly didn’t have any other explanation.

Just as quickly as it all started it ended. The garbage flew back out of the window, the Venetian shutters closed and all that was left was that ominous message from Maala that slowly fell to the floor. Aicha was trembling so bad I could hardly hang onto her.

When she’d composed herself she suggested that perhaps she should go back to the island,

“I don’t want to put your life in danger,” she said.

“Wait a minute before we get carried away – if Maala has such powers, why didn’t she know about us fooling around on your trips into town?”

“As an individual her power is limited but when she realized I’d gone she assembled a conclave.”

“A conclave?”

“All the women on the island gather at the circle of stones and Maala draws on their power to increase hers.”

“So do you have power of some kind?” I asked, now becoming sort of a believer in the supernatural.

“We all have powers,” she replied, “but most people don’t know how to tap into them – Maala does, she’ll keep tracking us now.”

“But surely she can’t sit in that circle of rocks – whatever – and monitor us 24 hours a day.”

“No but if she builds up enough power in the conclave she can do some very nasty things.”

“Such as?”

As soon as those words left my mouth the building began to shake and plaster began falling from the ceiling it was like a fucking earthquake.

Aicha was more terrified that I was, perhaps because she knew a lot more about the possibilities, but I just told her to stand firm – then I grabbed my personal papers and my laptop, took her by the hand and made for the door. Holy shit the whole building started to fall apart.

We struggled through the choking dust, trying to avoid falling debris and finally made it out onto the street. No other buildings seemed to be effected and life was going on as normal. The weird thing was, when I looked back at my studio – that looked normal too. It struck me that this might not be happening at all, perhaps it was all in the mind, put there by the High Priestess – or whatever she called herself.

I did not intend to go back to find out, even though I had a stack of paintings stored in there. We just made for the van and headed out of town.

In just over 30 minutes we arrived in Sainte Maxime. Aicha had been quiet for the whole journey I tried to question her more about Maala and what she was capable of but she seemed too scared to even speak about it.

As I didn’t have a clue where I was heading I decided that we’d haul up in this little town for the night and perhaps we could come up with an answer. We couldn’t very well spend the rest of our lives running from place to place and I certainly wasn’t going to let some two-bit witch take Aicha from me.

We booked into a rustic hotel quite close to the seafront and I ordered room service. She picked at her food and didn’t say much. After the dishes had been collected I sat her down, looked her straight in the eye and asked her if she loved me. She nodded, not an overwhelming affirmation but it was all I had to work with

“Do you want to go back to the Ile du Sol?” I asked – she shook her head.

“So how can we block that bitch’s thoughts?”

“She didn’t know.”

I threw my hands up in frustration, I couldn’t believe in the twenty first century I was afraid of something that was technically impossible and yet it was happening. We slept together but there was no sex and during the night I heard her sniffling as though she was crying.

Don’t Mess with Maala
I was happy when I woke up the next morning and our bed was not floating in the middle of the Mediterranean. However, when I went to check on the van all four wheels were missing. On the windscreen in red letters was written “Don’t Mess with Maala.”

The garages in town didn’t have those particular wheels in stock and so we had to wait until the next day to get it fixed. When I got back from the garage Aicha was looking a little better so we took breakfast outside in the sunshine and the whole day turned out to be trouble free. We had lunch in a nice restaurant that overlooked the beach and even did a little paddling. When we got back to our room she seemed relaxed, well as relaxed as anyone could be with a Hexe hanging over them.

I poured her a glass of red wine and after a little general conversation I managed to get her to open up about the island.

“Why can’t men ever go there?” I asked, wondering if I should take the chance and face up to Maala.

“Women have occupied the island for thousands of years.” she said, “men are deemed to be impure and if a man was to step into the circle of stones it would destroy the force that protects it.”

“Draw me a rough map of the island and where the stones are,” I said.

She looked at me suspiciously as I handed her pencil and paper but she did do a rough drawing.

I didn’t tell her that I had a plan in mind, a plan that could put me in grave danger, but I was hoping that we could make love just one more time in case it was my last. As we lay in bed that night I snuggled up and slipped my arms around her and caressed her breasts. She didn’t say anything or move for a while and then she turned around, hugged me and kissed me passionately. Soon I was licking her nipples, and fingering her warm wet vajajay as she massaged my balls and stroked my cock. When I slipped it into her she gasped and held on to me tight as I pounded her pussy. She started to cum a few seconds before I shot my load and so I was making my final thrusts as her body was shaking as if we were in the middle of an earthquake – again.

The next morning I told her that I was going to check on the van but was actually heading out to see a helicopter pilot who the garage man had told me about. Alain turned out to be a short rotund little man with a great sense of humor. He was anxious to do business until I told him I wanted to go to the Ile du Sol.

“I cannot go there Monsieur it is a no-fly zone.”

“A no fly zone?”

“Oui Monsieur, there are unusual air currents there – terrible turbulence – nobody knows why but two pilots were almost blown out of the sky in that area.” He shrugged, “we don’t go near that place anymore.”

“I’m willing to pay $10,000 for a return trip and ten to fifteen minutes on the island.”

“You want me to land on that godforsaken rock – you must be crazy – but for $10,000 I’ll do it.”

We shook hands and he told me he needed to fuel up and check things out and he’d be ready to go in an hour. I phoned Aicha and told her that we were waiting for the wheels to arrive and I was going to hang out at the garage until the van was fixed to my satisfaction.

Alain was an ex-army pilot and I think, in spite of his misgivings, he was kind of enjoying the idea of going on a mission again, and so we took off into the unknown. It was a short trip across the water and then just as he predicted the closer we got to the island the shear induced turbulence got gradually worse. It was actually blowing us back.

Alain fought with those control as if he was back on active duty and miraculously he managed to maneuver between two rocky stacks that rose up from the sea and then once over the island it was relatively calm. I had the map that Aicha had drawn and I saw the circle of jagged stones with some sort of alter in the middle.

We landed about fifteen feet away, I climbed out under the whirling blades and dashed across the grass towards the circle, I was within a couple of yards when I caught sight of this hooded woman standing in my path. She pointed her fingers towards me and my head felt it was going to explode, the pain was excruciating and I fell to the ground and thought it was the end of me. However, the woman, who I was pretty sure, was Maala, began to stagger and collapsed by my side. The pain in my head just went away.

When I looked up I saw that Alain had gone into the circle from the other side and was pissing up one of the rocks. His unholy presence seemed to have fucked up the whole power force that sustained this community and allowed Maala to control her subjects. When I’d dusted myself off I tried to help my adversary to her feet and I was shocked. She turned into an old wizened woman and was gibbering incoherently and didn’t seem to know where she was or who she was.

After a brief discussion Alain and I decided to fly her to the hospital on the way back. As we took off the other inhabitants of the island appeared and began waving to us. I wasn’t sure if they were thanking us for their freedom or whether they were all expecting a lift to the mainland.

When we got back to town I quickly phoned Aicha, went to the bank to get money for Alain and then I picked up the van with its four brand new wheels. I arrived at the hotel with a bottle of champagne, a huge bouquet of flowers and the news about Maala.

“You’re completely crazy,” she yelled, “If that pilot hadn’t have had a weak bladder you could be dead by now. Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“I only did it because I love you and want to protect you,” I said, kissing her on the lips to prevent any further outburst.

At that very moment there was an unusual roaring sound outside and the drapes over the open window blew up to the ceiling. Thinking that Maala might have made a miraculous recovery I ran over to the window and looked out, but it was just Alain, celebrating our successful mission, and his $10,000 windfall, by hovering outside with an American flag dangling from the undercarriage.


book number one

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The characters portrayed in my stories are, for intents and purposes, fictional and any similarity with persons living or dead is purely a product of your imagination.

Copyright 2016 Cristiano Caffieri

You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of my stories or images in any format, or claim ownership.

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