Trapped in a Lost World with Two Starving Succubi

The crack was the first warning. A sharp, splintering sound beneath my boots that vibrated straight up my spine. I froze, my geologist’s brain trying to process the data—the sound of stressed rock, the sudden give under my weight. I was miles from any marked trail, chasing a promising quartz seam I’d spotted on a satellite map. Solo. Stupid.

There was no time for a second thought. The earth simply opened up. One moment, I was standing on solid ground under the Montana sun; the next, I was plummeting into darkness. The fall was a chaotic blur of scraping rock and tearing fabric. A searing pain ripped through my left arm, followed by another in my right leg as I tumbled through the narrow passage. My world was noise and agony and the sickening lurch of gravity.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, my head connecting with something hard enough to make my vision flash white before fading to black.

When I came to, it was to the sound of dripping water and the throb of my own pulse in my ears. Every part of my body ached, a deep, comprehensive pain that made breathing a chore. I tried to push myself up, but a sharp, electric shock of agony shot up from my left ankle, and I collapsed back onto the damp, cool stone with a choked cry.

I forced my eyes open, blinking away the spots in my vision. This wasn't the small, dark fissure I’d expected. I was in a cavern. A vast, impossibly massive cavern. The ceiling was so high above me that it was lost in shadow, but the space around me was illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow. Bioluminescent moss clung to the walls in shimmering green and blue veins, and strange, pale flowers bloomed in clusters, their petals pulsing with a gentle, white light. The air was thick and humid, smelling of wet earth, stone, and something else… something faintly sweet, like night-blooming jasmine.

My gaze fell to my body. My cargo pants were shredded over my right knee, the gash beneath welling with dark blood. My left arm was worse, a long, deep gouge running from my elbow to my wrist. And my ankle… it was already swelling, twisted at an angle that made my stomach turn. Broken. Definitely broken.

Panic, cold and sharp, finally cut through the fog of pain. My pack. Where was my pack? My rope, my first-aid kit, my satellite phone—my entire lifeline. It wasn’t on my back. I scanned the ground around me, my heart hammering against my ribs. It wasn’t there. I craned my neck, ignoring the protests from my muscles, and looked up. Far, far above, a small, jagged circle of daylight mocked me. The opening I’d fallen through. My pack must have snagged on the edge, or been torn off during the fall.

It was gone. All of it.

The breathtaking beauty of the cavern suddenly felt menacing, the soft light turning sinister. This wasn't a wonder of nature. It was a tomb. A beautiful, shimmering, inescapable tomb. And I was going to die here.

A sob, ragged and hopeless, tore from my throat. But beneath my own pathetic noise was another sound. Faint, but steady. The sound of running water. Not just the slow, rhythmic dripping that echoed around me, but a consistent, flowing rush. Water meant life. Even if I was trapped, I couldn't die of thirst.

Gritting my teeth, I began to crawl. I dragged my useless left leg behind me, the bone grinding with every movement, sending waves of nausea through me. My arms trembled, slick with blood and sweat, as I pulled my body across the glowing moss and sharp-edged stone. The sound grew louder, a promising murmur that pulled me forward through the haze of pain.

I pushed aside a curtain of thick, velvety leaves that glowed with a soft blue light and the scene before me stole what little breath I had left. It was a pool, a massive, steaming spring nestled in a wide grotto. The water was impossibly clear, the heat rising from its surface making the air shimmer. And in the center of the pool, a woman was bathing.

She was turned away from me, her back a smooth, pale canvas against the dark water. Long, black hair was piled on top of her head, a few wet strands clinging to the nape of her neck. She moved with a languid grace, her hands skimming the surface of the water. I must have made a sound, a gasp or a whimper, because she stopped. Slowly, she turned.

My heart seized in my chest. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Not just pretty, but arrestingly, unnervingly perfect. High cheekbones, full lips, and eyes so dark they seemed to drink the cavern's faint light. As she looked at me, I saw a flicker within them, a faint, internal glow like dying embers. She wasn't surprised to see me. There was no fear in her expression, only a serene, unnerving calm.

She rose from the water, completely naked, and began to walk towards me. Water cascaded down her flawless skin, over the curve of her stomach and the swell of her hips. She didn't try to cover herself. She moved as if this was the most natural thing in the world, her bare feet silent on the stone as she stepped out of the spring.

She stopped just before me, looking down at my broken, bleeding form. I was a mess of dirt and gore at her feet. She knelt, her movements fluid and deliberate. Without a word, she cupped her hands and dipped them into the spring, then held them out to me. The water was crystal clear, a simple offering.

My throat was raw, my lips cracked. I leaned forward, my mind screaming at the insanity of the situation, but my body acting on pure, desperate instinct. I drank from her hands. The water was warm and tasted faintly sweet, like melon. It slid down my throat, and the effect was instantaneous. A pleasant, spreading warmth bloomed in my chest, radiating out through my limbs. The sharp edges of my panic began to soften, the terror dulling to a distant hum. My head felt light, swimming in a gentle, pleasant fog. The pain in my ankle and arm was still there, but it felt… farther away. Muted. I looked up at her, my vision blurring slightly at the edges. Her serene smile was the last thing I saw before the world tilted on its axis.

I didn't hit the ground. Strong, slender arms caught me, easing me back against the stone with a gentleness that felt entirely at odds with my violent fall. Her skin was cool against my feverish cheek. I could smell the spring water on her, clean and earthy, mixed with that strange, sweet floral scent.

"Easy," a voice whispered, a low, melodic hum that vibrated right through my skull. "Just breathe."

Her name was Jada. She told me this as she began to tend to my wounds. She moved with an impossible efficiency, her naked body a pale, graceful silhouette against the glowing flora. She gathered a handful of the blue-glowing moss from the wall, crushing it between her palms. It transformed into a thick, shimmering paste that smelled of ozone and damp soil.

She knelt beside me again, and the proximity of her bare skin was overwhelming. She started with the long gash on my arm. Her fingers, slick with the poultice, traced the torn edges of my flesh. The moment she touched me, a jolt went through me. It wasn't pain. It was a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, so intense it made my toes curl. The poultice was cold at first, but then a deep, penetrating warmth spread from her fingertips, sinking into my muscle and bone. The agony in my arm didn't just fade; it was erased, replaced by a tingling, electric hum that made the nerves under my skin feel alive and exquisitely sensitive.

"What is that?" I managed to get out, my voice thick.

"The Heart of the Earth provides," she said, her voice a hypnotic caress. She didn't look at me, her focus entirely on her work. "It heals those who find their way here. You are safe."

She moved to my leg, her hands parting the shredded fabric of my pants to expose the bloody wound on my knee. Her touch was just as deliberate, just as devastating. As she smoothed the glowing paste over my skin, her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh. My breath hitched. The pleasure was sharper this time, a direct line from her hand to my groin. I felt myself growing hard, a humiliating and undeniable reaction. I was broken and bleeding in a cave at the bottom of the world, and this woman's touch was making me ache with a need I hadn't felt in years.

Finally, she cradled my swollen, misshapen ankle. Her touch was impossibly light. "This will be sensitive," she murmured, and then she applied the moss. The grinding, sickening pain of the broken bone dissolved into a warm, liquid pulse of bliss that washed all the way up my leg. I let out a low groan, my head falling back against the stone. It felt better than any drug, any orgasm I'd ever had.

The immediate agony was gone, replaced by this strange, lingering euphoria and the unsettling throb in my pants. My mind was clearer now, the initial fog from the water receding just enough for the alarm bells to start ringing again.

"Thank you," I said, my voice steadier. "I… I don't know how to thank you. Is there a way out? Another passage?"

Jada finished her work, wiping her hands on a large, soft leaf. She looked at me, her face a mask of serene beauty. Her lips were curved into that same placid smile, but her eyes were ancient and empty. They held no warmth, no empathy. Just a deep, patient stillness.

"All you need to worry about now is healing," she said, her voice losing none of its soothing quality. "Rest. You are exactly where you are meant to be."