Chapter 1

Marisa Revilla stood up and stretched. "I'll be glad to get out of this job," she said to her co-worker, Annalyn. They worked at a call center in Makati, the business capital of the Philippines. The job pays well, but I'm bored out of my mind, she thought. After six years of sitting in front of a computer, talking to angry Americans, Marisa was glad that she had already saved up enough money to set up her own clothing company. "I'll finally be able to use my degree in Fashion Design," she said to Annalyn, who had worked beside her for two years. "And I have enough to spend on an extended vacation to Siquijor," she added.

"I wish this was my last day at work too, but I still don't get it. Why Siquijor, of all places? It's the witching capital! Won't it be dangerous there?" the ever-fearful Annalyn asked. "Oh come on, don't tell me you believe in that stuff!" Marisa answered. "I'm after the whole rustic experience, and Siquijor seems like the best place for that. I just might get the inspiration for a truly native line of clothing. Besides, it's cheap. Americans have been going to that place for years. I'll be fine."

On her way out, she stopped at the ladies' room. As she washed her hands, she studied herself in the mirror. Like many Filipinos, she was of mixed ancestry. Her fair, rosy complexion, large, almond-shaped eyes, and inky black hair could be attributed to her Northern Chinese heritage. Her full, red, lush lips and shapely legs were distinctly Filipino, and she was sure that she got her ample breasts, rounded hips, and shapely ass from the Spanish side of the family. Everyone thought she was beautiful, and she always had a fair share of admirers and boyfriends, but being the quintessential Filipina, she had managed to preserve her virginity. At 27, even she thought it was a long wait, but she wanted to present herself unsullied on her wedding night, so her future husband could never use it against her.

On her way home, she reflected on her coming trip. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing that she planned right after she and her last boyfriend split. She decided that she needed an escape, so she bought plane tickets the day they broke up. By the time she had cooled down and rethought the decision, it was too late to back down.

After she had showered and dressed for bed, she settled down with an erotic novel and started playing with her nipples. When she was wet enough, she reached down and rubbed her clit. Masturbating had always been a source of shame to her, but she figured that if she wanted to stay sane and still walk down the aisle with her hymen intact, it was better than nothing. After cumming, she fell asleep.

Two days later, Marisa was on the plane to Dumaguete, where she would be boarding a smaller plane to get to the small island, which is the southernmost island of the Visayan province. More than six hours after leaving Dumaguete, she finally landed in the small Cang-alwang airport near downtown Siquijor. After getting her big sports bag, the only luggage she brought, she followed the other dozen-or-so tourists to look for transportation. She wasn't with a tour guide, and she had not arranged for anyone to meet her, so she settled for a motorcycle with an extended back seat, which the locals called a habal-habal. She told the driver to take her to a place where she could get simple lodging.

As they drove around, Siquijor seemed like the typical tropical island, like all of the others that Marisa had seen before, but there was something mysterious and intriguing about this place.

For the entire afternoon, the driver took her around the island, stopping at the houses of various families who usually hosted tourists. But for some reason, Marisa didn't like any of the homes that they passed. By the time the sun started to set, she was tired and sticky, and fairly desperate. She decided she would choose the next house they came to, and find a better place in the morning.

When they stopped at a house that looked too modern for her taste, Marisa was about to get down when she spotted a nipa hut at the far end of the lane. She directed the driver to the house. "Miss, are you sure? There are other places for you to stay..." the driver cautioned, even though he too was tired and sweaty. "Yes, it's perfect!" Marisa replied. Heaving a sigh, the driver started in that direction.

They stopped in front of the small wooden gate. Marisa saw that the house was fairly large, as far a nipa huts went, with several rooms. As she got off and paid the driver, he said, "Ma'am, I'll wait for you here. If you don't like this place, we can always go back to the other one."

Marisa thought his tone was strange, but shrugged it off and walked in through the gate. She had read that everyone on the island was more than willing to host tourists, so she didn't see any reason why the owner of this house would refuse her.

She could see a man chopping wood across the yard. As she neared, he didn't even look up from what he was doing. "Excuse me, would you mind renting out a room to me for two weeks?" Marisa ventured.

"No. Go away." The man said gruffly. No wonder the driver doesn't want me to stay here, Marisa thought. This man's certainly unwelcoming. But since she liked the house, Marisa decided to push the issue. "I'll pay you double the amount that everyone else is asking."

"I said no..." the man started to say, finally looking up. But as he looked her up and down, a change came over his expression. "Okay." He said. "I wouldn't want you to think we Siquijordnons are inhospitable," He said. Something about his gaze creeped Marisa out a bit, but she shook it off as nerves. "I'm Marisa," she said, sticking out her hand.

The man took the proffered hand, noting that it was smooth, soft, and white. He said, "You can call me Mang Cadio."

Marisa started back through the gate to tell the driver that he could go. When she grabbed her bag, which she had left by the motorcycle, the driver grabbed her arm and whispered," Ma'am, the owner of this house is said to be involved in a witches' circle." Marisa laughed and said, "Don't worry about me, I brought a rosary. Be back in the morning, okay? I'd like to go around the island."

The man still looked worried, but he turned around and sped away as fast as his bike would go.

When Marisa climbed the ladder to the nipa hut, she saw that Mang Cadio was already inside. The main room was large and airy with big windows and lace curtains. Bamboo furniture was set out on one side of the room, while a kitchen and dining area was on the other end. Opposite from the entrance were three doorways. Instead of doors, more lace curtains hung over the frames. There wasn't much privacy, but Marisa found the place charming.

Mang Cadio had been cooking rice on one clay fire-burning stove, and was roasting some meat and seafood on another. He looked up and said, "The food will take a little while. Your room is through the door on the far left."

Marisa picked up her bag and walked across the bamboo flooring to the room he indicated. It was just enough for one person. There was a fairly large bedframe directly in front of the entrance, covered with the traditional woven straw mats that served as bedding, along with two foam pillows and a cotton blanket folded in the corner. The bedside table held a gas lamp and a box of matches. There was a wooden bureau standing against the wall near the foot of the bed, and a nightstand with a basin and a pitcher of water to her left. A towel sat folded on a shelf beneath the nightstand. Marisa put her bag in the bureau and joined Mang Cadio in the main room.

"The bathroom is through the door in the middle. It is the only modern convenience in the house. It is also the only room that has tiles and cement," he said as Marisa sat down on the mat by the low dining table. She simply nodded. It looks like he'll have a full show while I bathe, she thought.

After dinner, Marisa changed into a thin night gown and went to bed. She was sleeping soundly within minutes. So soundly that she didn't even stir when Mang Cadio entered her room and lifted her blanket and nightgown. Unfortunately, she had fallen asleep with her legs spread, so Mang Cadio had no trouble reaching up between her thighs. He probed gently, and smiled when he found her hymen intact. It's a good thing these tourists are so tired after their trip, he thought. Then he walked out and went to bed too.

Mang Cadio was up with the dawn. He sacrificed his normal morning offering in a nearby cave, where he bumped into one of his friends, Tomas. "I have found our moon-woman," Mang Cadio said, and left the cave.

Marisa woke up that morning feeling refreshed. She looked around to see if Mang Cadio was out, and satisfied that she was alone, she went into the bathroom to take a quick bath. When she had finished dressing, the driver from the other day came to pick her up. She went around the island, watching the shows of paper puppets that danced around with no strings, and visiting the local witch doctors. It was truly a charming island.

The next day, she decided to take a longer, more thorough bath. She didn't see Mang Cadio silently watching as she soaped herself. He heard her getting up and going to the bathroom, but since he knew which floorboards creaked and which didn't, he could go in and out of the house without anyone knowing. She has beautiful breasts, he thought. Pink nipples are so rare, the rest will surely enjoy them. And she doesn't trim or shave her pubic hair, but she had so little that she doesn't need to. It's a good sign, he thought to himself as he silently stalked out.

After another long day exploring caves and historical buildings, Marisa was exhausted when she got back to the nipa hut.

Very early the next morning, three men clad only in loincloths silently entered her room. Marisa woke with a start when one man slapped duct tape onto her mouth while the others bound her hands and feet with rope. She was tied to a pole and carried like some animal into the cool morning air clad in nothing but her thin cotton nightgown and panties.

Strangely, none of the men looked at her much. They simply stared straight ahead as they walked. When the sun was high in the sky, they reached a cave that Marisa wasn't brought to the day before. There was a large wooden platform and unlit torches several yards from the entrance, but no one else was there. She was brought to the very end of the cave, where a hole in the roof let in some natural light. A spring made a quiet pool of clear water several feet away. The men removed the pole and walked out, leaving her shivering. A few moments later, three elderly women in shapeless dresses came, carrying torches. With as few words as possible, they untied her and made her eat a crunchy, sweetish kind of radish, gave her a cup of mint tea, and allowed her to relieve herself. They then led her to the pool, making it clear that she would not be allowed to leave, but no one would explain why she was there. "You'll find out soon enough," they said.

The water was cold, but it felt good on Marisa's sore wrists and ankles. Her nipples hardened into dark pink half-inch nubs, and she was glad that there were no men nearby. When the water was at her waist, she was pushed under to wet her thoroughly. The women then proceeded to shampoo her shoulder-length hair with a solution extracted from a gugo plant, scented with frangipani flowers. They dunked her again to rinse her hair before leading her to the shallower end. They then started soaping her. Marisa didn't like the women touching her body, and felt especially violated when they soaped her breasts and between her thighs, but she knew it was futile to argue.