Page 2 of Salt and Knot

Before I can think, I’ve plunged my hands between my hips and the waistband of my knickers and pushed both shorts and underwear off. I retain just enough rational brain to sweep my shorts from my ankles and toss them over my shoulder towards the beach.

They’ll dry. I hope.

Then I sink into the water. It envelops me, tingling against my skin, pushing sensation further in. It’s glorious. It flows up, over my chest and back, until somehow I’m neck deep. I duck down and hold my breath as the water goes over my head. Every hair seems to respond separately, tugging at my scalp as it moves with the water. My breasts are weightless in the sea, held by the most perfectly comfortable bra. My nipples have tightened more.

I close my eyes as I would in a swimming pool, and the thud of my heart is heavy in my ears.

And there’s something else. A low sound almost like a whale call. A rising song that comes from the open ocean, but echoes through me.

Luring me. Dragging me down.

I kick my legs—when did I get out of my depth? And in a second, I break the surface. My eyes fly open, dazzled by the sunshine, and I heave in air.

I tread water and pant. The beach and the clifftop path are still deserted.

Half turning, I know I should head back to the beach. I’m not more than ten feet from the shore, but if this is a rip tide, and it’s taken me further than I intended already, I need to be careful. Water swirls around my waist, stronger than the deceptively calm surface indicates. It’s almost a caress.

The water seeps into my pussy, like a jet. I squeak and kick hard, beginning to swim to the shore.

My foot touches something. My brain can’t figure out what it is—instinctively thinking it must be sand. A stone. The seabed.

But then the water curls around my ankle, and it’s not water anymore.

It’s a tentacle.

Chapter 2

Isla

I panic. I thrash. But the tentacle only wraps tighter around my lower leg. Another touches my hand, cool against my warm palm. I go to scream, but something slides down my back and I’m too shocked to even cry out.

Because it feels good. Then the tentacle is at the small of my back, then slipping between the cheeks of my bottom. Another steps up my leg, one rounded sucker at a time, replaced by larger ones all the way up over my knee, even as I keep kicking to stay afloat, curving around and then…

It touches my bikini line.

I let out a choke of fear.

I reach down to pull it off, away from my pussy!

But as though this thing—a plant surely? An animal? A dream?—has recognised my intentions, before I can touch my leg, a tentacle has whipped over my wrist, holding me fast.

A scream rises from my chest, up, up, into my throat. But my chin is only just above the water line, and as I open my mouth, a dark blueish-purple tentacle lifts from the water and is over my jaw and between my lips—salty and smooth—before any sound can escape me. It’s an instant gag, filling my mouth.

I bite down hard, but it’s like rubber, flexible but immovable. Impossible for me to harm, as it bounces back from every attempt to dig my teeth in. I try to fight. To swim, or kick, or move. But each of my limbs is held fast by whatever this sea monster is.

My fingers and nails are equally useless. The tentacles all have suckers, round and firm, and I contort to pry them off, only for two more to take their place.

And at the same time, the creature has taken a lead on me. The tapered end of the thick tentacle now wrapped around my waist probes between my breasts, then slides across to one nipple. A sucker latches on, and I would scream if I could.

But not from terror.

It spikes pleasure in me that I’ve never felt before.

Then that deep, vibrating sound starts again. Or perhaps it never stopped, and it’s louder now, and I can hear it even though my ears are only half covered by the water.

Whatever this creature wants, it isn’t drowning me.

Yet.