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Labia: A Thing of Wonder
Oregano grew wild, sprouting up from the cracks in the rocks on the hillside by the sea. Not far from the hillside stood a grove of lemon trees. Although herbs and plants were abundant on the tiny island, these were the two smells that dominated. The winds would carry the aroma of oregano and lemon everywhere and out to sea. On the rare occasion that a boat landed, the sailors would speak excitedly about the smells and expect some feast to be made for them. But the women on the island -- there were only women on the island -- would pretend they were going to feed them and then after they'd allow the sailors to rape the fertile ones, they would kill them and break apart their boats. It is how the island had been for centuries upon centuries.
As the women had great magick for ensuring their issue were female (and great knives as a contingency for when their magick failed), they were able to keep their community clean. No man was allowed to live on the island for more than one dayspan.
As no one had ever escaped the island to tell the story, there was no reason to suspect that word had spread and that's why the boats started coming less and less. But the boats had stopped coming. No boat had landed in twenty years. The population dwindled, accordingly. Still. The women weren't hurried. Providence would provide.
* * *
Ayin Nun, whose title was Grand Executioner, was a slight woman of fair complexion and raven-black hair whose skill with blades was renowned on the island. She -- and she alone -- knew the ancient sacred skill of the Gentle Evisceration, handed down to her from the matriarchs of the generation before. In the time of her fertileness, only one boat had landed and she had failed to conceive during that Visitation. As she had lived two score and three years, it was a safe assumption she would produce no issue in her lifetime. Thus, it was imperative she choose a successor from one of the younger ones to learn this sacred skill. Such a decision preyed on her mind. She had a firm distrust of youth, having grown away from it. Not that she was old yet, by any means, but her particular age meant her intolerance was even more marked being close enough to remember what youthful folly was and yet old enough to scorn it. She saw only folly even in those she thought might have a hint of potential, and she felt she could not trust them to grow into that potential. She had to be absolutely sure when she handed along her skills and knowledge.
But certainty is always a luxury, and Ayin Nun comfortably dismissed the fact that she had been fifteen when she first began her training. She rationalized that she was a very mature fifteen-year-old, but she hadn't been. She'd forgotten it was her training that had seasoned her. Serious matters tended to do that.
Thus, she fretted over this decision.
She clung to the cliffs by the sea, standing on an oregano-littered plateau and straddling a jutting rock. Below her, on the beach, six of the younger ones frolicked, naked, in the surf. She watched them with disdain and disapproval. They wouldn't do, she thought. She wanted one of them to break away from the group, to distance herself and to look askance at the activity she had just been enjoying. She willed self-conscious awareness on them. If only one of them would stop that dratted frolicking, if only one of them would suddenly brood.
But Ayin Nun had, in her youth, frolicked in crowds and brooded only when alone. Until, of course, her training. Then she did hardly either. Instead, she cultivated the art of being imposing -- as befitted an Executioner.
Which of these girls will I pluck out of the sunshine to show the dark? she thought. But it was hardly darkness she was going to show the chosen one. Ayin Nun, in her capacity, was an adjunct of the law. She was ruled by custom and other's opinions. She carried out other's orders. There was hardly anything dark about that, despite the fact she quenched out lives.
The girls were exploring each other's bodies, touching themselves and each other intimately. Ayin Nun watched their guileless sex play and began to focus her attention on Esmera who more times than not mounted the other girls, persuading them onto their backs to accept her caresses. Although not brooding, Esmera at least manifested strength -- of appetite, of body -- something Ayin Nun could respect.
Esmera, Ayin Nun thought, I will choose Esmera.
And so the choice was made, although Ayin Nun still wished for the girl to brood.
* * *
Esmera, upon hearing she had been hand-picked to succeed Ayin Nun as the Grand Executioner, fainted.
When they revived her, the girl had turned a ghastly shade of white. They quickly agreed to not speak of the girl's reaction, lest Ayin Nun would hear of it and change her mind about her choice. Although the office of Grand Executioner had its drawbacks, there were certain perks and prestige that went with it and so made it worth it. A factor the others were sure Esmera would appreciate with time. There was also the other factor to consider. Someone had to take this office, and there weren't many of eligible age to choose from.
"Do you refuse your elders' choice in you? Are you afraid?" Olinbaum asked Esmera when they were alone in Esmera's hut.
Olinbaum, an elder, was a member of the ruling council, which these days consisted of three women. Olinbaum was called the Mediator, although her duties covered much more than that. Skilled in some medicinal arts, she had been able to shoo the others from Esmera's hut and tend the young woman herself. She placed damp lemon skins on the girl's forehead.
"No," Esmera breathed. "I was. Just. Taken. Aback."
"It is, of course, an enormous responsibility."
"Killing people. Yes."
"Not many sentenced to die. Maybe one every few years. Maybe not, the less of us there is."
"Unless a boat comes."
"Yes. But others help then."
"Not with the Evisceration."
"No, that is the Grand Executioner's art alone."
"I've never seen a male," Esmera whispered.
"They are like us. Only they have jutting things here," Olinbaum said and touched her pelvis. "It is how they impregnate."
"If we need them to procreate, why do we kill them?"
"Because they are evil."
"How are they evil?"
Olinbaum shrugged. "It is just known. The proscriptions against them are enscribed and handed down from the Ancient Ones."
"And you never questioned why?"
"Yes, when I was your age, I did. Now. I have seen them. They presume too much. They enslave their own women where they come from. I have heard their stories from their own lips. They thought to enslave us, too. They do not question their way of life. So, we have no need to question ours. If we want to stay free, we must kill them. It is a simple matter of survival. You will see one day."
"And the male babies? If raised in our way of life, would not they believe in our way of life? And then we would have no need of waiting for the boats were we to have our own males."
"No, Esmera. You will see. The Ancients have written that it is in their blood, the need to dominate. The only way to avoid certain subjugation is to rid our community of them. Completely. Wholly. Faithfully."
Esmera closed her eyes. The lemon scent was heavy on her. Olinbaum let the girl rest and started to brew some strong tea in another corner of the hut.
After minutes of silence, Esmera asked, "What is it like to be impregnanted by them?"
"Birthing is great violence. Painful. It is the curse of their violence, but easier to bear amongst ourselves."
"No. That is not what I meant. What is it like to have their jutting things inside your body?"
"Like the cucumbers you girls use on each other. Only attached to a body of an evil thing. If you close your eyes and think it's a sister ministrating to you, it can feel pleasant. But you must always remember not to be fooled by a false pleasure. Only a woman can give real pleasure to another woman."
Esmera, accepting this as logical, nodded, the movement dislodging some of the lemon skins, which fell to the floor. She picked the other ones off her forehead and sat up.
"Thank you, Olinbaum," Esmera said. "You've answered my questions and I am no longer afraid. I will be honored to learn the Great Evisceration."
Olinbaum embraced the girl in great delight and pride. Then, carried by the moment, their embrace segued into something more. There, in Esmera's hut, they celebrated her acceptance by giving each other real pleasure: a thing of wonder.
As had been the custom for centuries upon centuries.
*
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AFTERWORD:
Bat wishes to point out that she is fond of jutting things. This is just a story. Had to fit the title. Don't get Freudian on her.
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