A two part dystopian erotica set in Ireland. For the version complete with playlists go to
[https://samanthajwright.com/2022/05/26/kali-part-1/](https://samanthajwright.com/2022/05/26/kali-part-1/)
Every atom inside Joel pulsed as if besieged by the radiation. When he struggled to sleep, which was often, he imagined each of his cells on a microscopic level with a nuclear sun flaring inside, ready to destroy him in the same way Putin’s Satan two nuke had obliterated Dublin, his country’s capital city. Fortunately he was quite far away. He had felt the scorching aftershock. Heard the deafening sound. Had observed the mushroom cloud of evil towering high into the stratosphere. But hidden beneath a concrete bridge he’d been afforded some protection at least.
Weakened, that bridge had now fallen; a shattered hunk of supposed human progress, reduced to mere dust and twisted metal. As had civilisation in just twenty three days. There had been no time to prepare. This added to the sense of desperation. People had turned feral with terrifying speed, looting stores for supplies, killing anyone who dared ask for help or God forbid tried to barter. Fear ruled. Humans had become wolves; most only loyal to whatever pack they had affiliated themselves with leaving the rest terrifyingly alone.
This was Joel’s fate.
By his estimation, most of Derryswallin’s inhabitants were dead. Going back to his modest little home there would be worse than pointless. Someone or many someones would break into his house and find him. Homes were no longer the sanctuaries they had been – they were targets now. Cannibalism was starting to rear its ugly head. Packs of wide eyed, unnaturally red skinned people roamed the area, carrying axes, knives and guns, to dispatch their victims and butcher them for consumption.
He’d found steaming piles of entrails once. And on another occasion the decapitated heads of an entire family he had known all his life. So he only travelled at night. And only then for a few hours. Other than that, he hid. Burnt out cars made good hiding places since they presented nothing to offer for the raiders and looters. The thick heather on the Killalaustry moors was also useful; although perhaps a bit too close to the blast.
Tonight he was in the sand dunes at Fintra.
His stomach ached miserably from lack of food. It had been five days and all he’d had was a few dead crabs he’d found washed up on the beach. They had given him chronic diarrhea. Exhausted and despondent he lay in the hollow of a dune and watched Dublin burn in the distance.
Sleep enveloped his tired, troubled mind and body for several hours. At one point during the night, an Irish hare stood atop the dune, silhouetted by the ghostly luminary above until somewhere close by, gunfire spooked it, causing it to lope away.
Joel stirred in his sleep unaware of several sets of dull unpolished leather boots stirring up the sand, heading his way with purpose. The orange glow of Dublin and the sporadic light of the moon glinted off metal. Bodily steam expelled from heated lungs rose into the night.
‘Get up you miserable mother fucker!’
A boot crashed into Joel’s ribs, a detonation of reality, a brutal awakening from his only haven. He howled.
‘I said get up!’
The boot landed two more kicks. The second provoked a crunch. Joel writhed and gasped.
‘Pick him up and bring him to camp,’ said a deep voice.
Everything around Joel appeared to be flickering shadows that gossiped about his impending death. ‘They’, his assailants attached a fraying nylon rope to his neck and half dragged, half tugged him along as he tried to keep up despite the agony in his chest. Breathing was difficult. Partly due to terror and partly due to the ribs he believed were cracked.
Presently he saw a light up ahead. As they got closer, he saw a great fire burning bright at the entrance of Rhodonnacha Castle. There were more people there than he had seen in days. Most of them were men; all of them naked. They encircled the fire, facing outwards. Had Joel been one of them, he’d have been covering his junk with both hands. But strangely they didn’t.
As the fire no doubt warmed their backs uncomfortably, they stood legs slightly apart, staring straight ahead, obviously aware of their party’s approach.
Why were they naked?
Had the nuclear attack sent them mad?
As these thoughts flitted through Joel’s mind, someone strode past him, a person he hadn’t noticed travelling in their midst.
A woman. A rather daunting one.
She gave him the chills.
She was not scruffy looking like the others. Her hair was dark and braided intricately. Her shoulders were square with alertness and confidence. Her leather clad legs moved with determination. Everything about her exuded authority. Yet she was not overly muscular. Just trim and well defined.
She approached the men by the fire.
‘Go fetch me my throne Thadeus,’ she said. ‘And take Andrew with you.’
Two of them hurried away. Minutes later they returned with a regal looking chair made of driftwood. She sat down upon it near the fire and ordered that Joel be brought to her.
‘What is your name?’
‘Joel Maam.’
‘You will call me Mistress.’
‘Sorry Mistress.’
She nodded.
‘You may remove your clothes now. You’ll have no need of them here.’
Somehow he had been expecting this but it did not make it any less jolting.
She did not appreciate his hesitation.
‘Do I need to get Pavel here to break another rib?’
‘No Mistress,’ said Joel, hurriedly removing his clothes. When he had done so, he stood up tall against all instincts, copying the behaviour of those around him. He wanted to stay alive.
The woman leaned forward imperceptibly, her eyes running over him with the fervour of forest ants.
‘Stand with the others.’
‘Make room for him, you wretched bitches!’
The men did so immediately and Joel took his station facing her.
He was trying to fit in but what he was fitting into he didn’t quite know.
‘Lawrence and John, get over here.’
Two men broke ranks and stood before her.
‘Present yourselves.’
Joel watched in morbid fascination as both men touched their toes, baring their muscular asses to her. A disturbing smile took over her face and she withdrew two small handguns from the back of her waistband.
‘I hear you two have become quite friendly,’ she purred.
They did not reply. Joel noticed they were both trembling. This only increased further, accompanied by wincing as she forcibly inserted the muzzles of her weapons into their rectums. She cocked them and smiled broadly. The effect did not reach her eyes. They stayed narrow and foxlike in their cunning, drinking in the fear she was instilling.
‘I hear you two were discovered fucking. Is this true?’
‘No Mistress,’ stuttered Lawrence. ‘We would never.’
John however was the braver man.
‘Yes we did Mistress. Just the once. But I can promise you it will never happen again. It was a mistake for which I’m unreservedly sorry for.’
‘Yes it was,’ she snarled and then pulled the trigger of the gun in her left hand. Twice.
Lawrence fell, blood gushing like a fountain and she kicked his already lifeless body towards the fire as one would a rotten dried out log. John kept his gaze firmly affixed upon the ground.
‘Your honesty saved you,’ she said, stroking his back tenderly. She moved the gun around inside him, finger still on the trigger.
Joel could barely watch. What madness was this?
She looked up at the others.
‘So you all know now that I don’t share what’s mine. Your bodies are mine. Your cum is mine. All of you is mine. You are owned. Isn’t that so?’
‘Yes Mistress,’ they chanted.
Goosebumps broke out on Joel’s arms despite the heat of the fire as he found himself joining in.
What hold did this woman have on these men and why?
He had a strong feeling he was about to find out before the night was through. Whether or not he welcomed the answer was a different matter entirely.
‘You have all come to me,’ she beamed. ‘And I shall take care of you all. You will do my bidding and Mistress Kali shall abundantly provide.’
there are aspects of this story which deviate quite far from reality, such as the consumption of irradiated wildlife. However, the story is quite well written.