Captive Travelers

by Candace Smith

  Kayla tried to shake her head to get the pressure off her jaw. She saw Ahiga approach her mouth with the ring, and she screamed and tried to thrash away. Tocho gripped her tighter, and he reached a hand down to grab her pussy to hold her still. She felt his fingers rip at her dark curls… and a finger slip between her lips and stroke her slit.

  The ring slid up behind her top teeth and Ahiga stuck two fingers into her mouth, pulling down on her bottom jaw until she thought it would break. He wedged the bottom of the ring behind her bottom teeth. It was secure, and the outside leather would swell a slight bit, making the fit tighter. The ring had been soaked in a cleansing concoction the shaman had prepared and chanted over earlier. It was bitter and burned when she swallowed the juices.

  The shaman lifted a stiff piece of leather. It was flat on top and curved on the edges, forming an upside down spoon shape with a small notch cut through the end. The other end was a straight stick, and he pushed it through the ring in her mouth. When the stick hit the back of her throat, Kayla shrieked and began to gag. It forced her tongue forward, where it slid under the cup of the spoon. Ahiga inserted a finger into her mouth and pressed down on the device, locking her tongue in place and keeping her retching.

  Between sobs, gags, and screams, Kayla watched the old Shaman pick up a splinter of buffalo bone, with a thin strip of leather stuck through the end. She tried to pull her tongue back. Oh god. Oh god, he’s going to stick that through my tongue.

  The Shaman spoke words while he pushed the bone needle through her captured tongue. The raven would no longer speak her lies and insults. He picked up the threaded thin gut string and slid a raven feather onto the end before he tied it.

  At last, the device and the ring were removed from her mouth, and Kayla wailed, stretching to her toes in pain. The raven feather was coated in blood and dripping down her chin.

  The shaman picked up his bone needle again, and Kayla shook her head and tried to plead for mercy. There was none in his eyes, or in those watching her cleansing. His bony fingers plucked at her nipple while she screamed and moaned in terror. There was a look of disgust in his eyes when her nipple peaked.

  Ahiga gripped her breast while Tocho held the nipple still to be pierced. Once more, a stiff, thin thread of buffalo gut was fed through the hole with the raven feather attached to it. Kayla was pleading for unconsciousness when the other tip was done. Even that relief was denied her. The potion the Shaman had soaked the mouth ring in was also on the strips, and it irritated and burned the new wounds.

  When Tocho held her labia open and Ahiga began rubbing her slit until her clit stiffened, Kayla was trying to buck her hips. Her toes were almost bleeding from her struggles, and she did pass out for a few seconds when the tiny strip of leather was fed through. She could feel the raven feather brushing against her thigh.

  Kayla was delirious with the pain, and in the back of her mind she wondered if Clara had known and had been afraid to tell her. Kayla’s throat was hoarse, and drool mixed with the blood and dripped down her breasts. She was slipping into shock, and the realization calmed her. It offered her preferable relief from the torture.

  The shaman held up two leather plugs attached by strips at the bottom. They had longer ties on each end. These had been prayed over while he asked the spirit guides what the raven’s tribal name would be. They held a noxious combination of herbs and oils inside them that would slowly leach out of the thin leather skin. The shaman pushed one inside her vagina, and he held his gnarled fingers around the sides of the other while he inserted it into her rectum. All Kayla could manage to do was grunt at the invasions.

  After tying the securing strips around her waist, the shaman stood back and raised his arms to the sky. The pouches would remain inside her, until she had absorbed all the cleansing potion. He turned to the chief and announced, “The spirits have named the raven Urika… Useful to All.” The tribe murmured their agreement, and slowly dispersed.

  The shaman spoke with Ahiga and told him to feed her jerky juice for the next two days. After that, the pouches would be checked and she would be lowered for use. The Indians, who had made the journey to collect the travelers, would be first to enjoy Urika’s seductive treasures, once she was cleansed and could not hurt the tribe.

  The old man studied Ahiga’s eyes to judge his reaction, and then he walked to his teepee to rest. It had been a grueling week of preparation for the three offerings. The shaman glanced once towards the pens where Waka was being prepared. The women were well versed in their duties.

  Cici cried, and looked warily with her confused stare at the Indians they passed. The tapping of Soquila’s quirt kept her moving towards the edge of the village. There was a tarp stretched on poles to keep the area beneath it shaded, and two women in fringed dresses stood waiting.

  “So, you will train her?” Awi asked. Soquila was a good choice. He had an even temperament and had been trained well by his father. Her only concern was that he had a mild manner towards the women of the tribe and had not yet taken a wife. She hoped he could be strict enough to train the new cow.

  “It is an honor,” Soquila admitted. He was still surprised he did not have to argue his case.

  The two women began pinching and prodding Cici. “Ow… don’t… don’t touch me.” Her voice sounded far away.

  “We will keep her calmed for a few days,” Awi decided.

  “Yes,” Soquila agreed. “She is very nervous and it was a difficult journey. You can see she has a leanness that needs to be curbed.”

  “The bindings will take care of that. We will begin with those, and then you can rest from your journey while Tala and I apply potions. It will take several days, and we can wean her off the sleeping juice,” Awi suggested.

  “Ganali is here?” Soquila asked.

  “Yes. Tokala complains about providing food for her, and he rarely uses her in the summer. It may help Waka settle in, to have company.”

  Cici felt her Indian guide push down on her shoulders. She looked up at him in scared confusion. “Down, Waka. Kneel.”

  Cici was tired from the long journey. She also decided the women would stop touching her if she followed the man’s suggestion. Just before her knees settled onto the ground, Awi and Tala slipped wide leather straps beneath her shins. Soquila strapped them in place around her heavy thighs. They would keep her knees bent and her ankles resting on either side of her wide buttocks.

  Cici watched with slightly distorted fascination while her fingers were curled around a piece of rolled leather. Her thumbs were folded under her fingers. Soft skin pouches were rolled up to her wrists, and then the women began wrapping more strips of pliable leather around the gloves, leaving her hands curled and tightly secured to the wrists. The leather stripping was damp and would tighten even more as it dried.

  Much like Kayla, her mouth was fitted with a ring but her tongue was not pierced and the ring was not removed. Soquila ran his fingers through her curls and he smiled at her bewildered expression. She had pretty brown eyes and looked like a scared doe. “I will be back tomorrow, Waka.” Cici watched him leave, and she swooped her head back towards the women.

  “She needs to be fattened,” Tala noted.

  “If we have to, we will keep Ganali tied during feeding so she does not steal Waka’s food.” Awi tapped Waka on the bottom, and Cici’s eyes widened when she saw that the Indian woman also had one of the small crops. “Out, Waka. Into your pen to rest.”

  Cici tried to rise, and she realized that her legs were stuck. When she tried to speak, drool dripped from her opened mouth. None of this made sense to her. It did not particularly hurt; it was just very confusing. She placed her curled mitted hands on the ground and began to crawl.

  The tiny bat kept rapping her bottom while she shuffled through a small gate on the other side of the tarp. Her legs began a dull throb and her fingers were cramped. When she was out in the pen, she saw another girl on the other side of the enclosure. She was even larger than Cici and restrain
ed in much the same way. When the Indian woman walked back under the tarp, Cici found a shady spot of grass. She curled up and went to sleep, thinking about the laughing children and smiling faces, and that things might not be too bad with the Indians after all.

  Aubrey was not so convinced. She had been led to a teepee with Nashoba’s strong hand gripping her arm. Because Nashoba had no wife, his mother would guide the spirit women in what would be necessary to prepare the white woman to care for her son. Leotie had spoken with the shaman about the reading surrounding the girl. She was of the earth and passionate, and these were two very good signs. When Leotie had seen the golden hair and green eyes, she was certain the shaman’s reading was accurate. Nashoba guided the naked, frightened woman into the tent, and Leotie smiled up at him. “Wacasa?”

  Nashoba could not explain that he knew this was to be his white woman’s name as soon as he had seen her eyes. She had a wildness and a tenacity in her face that reminded him of the sage on the prairie. “Her nature reminds me of you,” Nashoba answered.

  Leotie was true speak for Flower of the Prairie, and he had named his captive Sage. “How long must she remain with you?” Nashoba was a patient man, but he found himself besieged with thoughts of the green-eyed girl. Touching her breasts and fondling her nipples in the stream had left him with a stiff cock and tight balls.

  Leotie laughed softly. “I can see you are struggling with your passion, son. Still, it will be up to the spirit women to announce when she is ready. I suggest you and Tocho hunt for a few days. It will be at least that long until Urika will be released from the shaman’s cleansing rites, so Tocho’s own reward will be delayed.”

  Nashoba growled something under his breath. Aubrey had been silently staring at the women leaning over bowls and small pouches by the fire while he spoke his strange dialect with a pretty Indian woman. He turned her and tilted up her chin. “This is my mother, Leotie, and the spirit women of the tribe. You will do as they say or be punished.” Maybe his threat would move the process along.

  Aubrey stared into his black eyes, and in a quivering voice she said, “I want to see Kayla.” She lifted her chin off his fingers and tried to stand straight. Aubrey had heard Kayla scream once, and then just garbled wailing.

  Aubrey trembled when the Indian’s eyes darkened. “You will not speak of the raven again, Wacasa. You have been warned.”

  Aubrey silenced. The big man was leaving her with the women, and perhaps she could try her impassioned pleas with them. She would get nowhere with Nashoba.

  As soon as he left, she turned slowly towards the women. For some reason, she was much more aware of her nudity around the intense dark beauty of them. They were older, but they had a shrewdness and purpose in their eyes that was unnerving. Aubrey felt pale and weak beside them and she wanted to run out of the tent. The thought of running around the village of savages naked froze her.

  Leotie snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground by the fire. Aubrey stared at her and did not move. The woman moved so swiftly, Aubrey had no chance to back away. She grabbed Aubrey’s long hair and dragged her forward. Aubrey tried to claw at her hand, and the woman twisted her hair until she felt strands ripping out of her scalp.

  “Stop! Let go of me!” Aubrey screamed. She was frightened and tired, and she wanted to find a place to curl up and be left alone. For the first time in many days, she considered that this alternative world was a dream, but the sharp pain of her scalp would not let her escape the truth.

  The other two women each grabbed a flailing arm and jerked them behind her. Aubrey felt her wrist cuffs being secured again. Leotie tugged at her hair until Aubrey was forced to her knees beside the fire. She cried and thrashed in frustration. The Indian yanked her head back until Aubrey faced the ceiling of the teepee.

  The older of the spirit guide women, Yepa, grabbed her cheeks and squeezed until her lips opened. Namid held a skin tube over her and pressed it into her mouth with her fingers. Tangy liquid began dripping down her throat, and Aubrey sputtered and fought to keep from swallowing. Yepa used her other hand to stroke her neck while Namid squeezed the potion from the tube.

  When the skin was empty, she pulled it back from Aubrey’s mouth and Leotie and Yepa released their hold on her. They stepped back and waited. Aubrey felt lightheaded and dizzy. She tried to stand, but her balance was gone and she crashed onto her side. Her muscles would not work, and she tried to kick towards the flap of the tent. Soon, even that feeble effort was futile. Aubrey curled up and cried.

  The potion the woman had given her would only relax her muscles. It did nothing to calm the terror Aubrey felt. They’re going to prepare me for the big Indian. Oh god, what does that mean? Are they just going to leave me in this paralyzed state so I can’t fight him?

  Yepa bent down and squeezed the girl’s breast. She made no movement other than a slight shiver and the small, quiet sobs. The three women dragged her over to a space by the side of the teepee.

  “Your son honors you,” Yepa acknowledged in their clipped dialect.

  “Another warrior would have tried to boost his own pride and standing, and chosen a name with the strength of the sun. Instead, Nashoba looked into her eyes and he gave her the gentle name of the prairie flowers,” Namid noted. “The woman will bring much to the Wehali.”

  “We will need this.” Leotie smiled down at the incapacitated woman. Her hair was now dry and spread fanned around her like the rays of the sun. Leotie was pleased to be working with Snow Woman and Star Dancer to prepare Wacasa for her son.

  Namid smiled and followed Leotie’s gaze to the white woman. “Did you see her pride through her fear when she asked your son about the raven? She is strong and protective.” To be captive for the chief’s son, these were good qualities.

  Leotie asked, “Do you think she would dare stand up to him?” She worried that Nashoba could lose his patience and hurt the woman if she denied him.

  “She will be so lost with arousal that she will not fight him,” Yepa assured her. “There is also the possibility that with a white woman to appease his passion, one of the tribe’s women will now approach him.”

  Leotie smiled. “I think our women will have trouble trying to gain his attention away from Wacasa. Paytah looks at me with such a gaze.”

  Nashoba had never married, though many men had suggested their daughters to him. The Indian girls themselves rarely approached him. He was much too fierce in size, and he spent too much time in quiet contemplation. Much as his good friend, Tocho, the sadistic aroused shine in his eyes was quite often softened by a touch of amusement that also made them nervous. Nashoba was a big man, and destined to be chief someday. If matched with him, the woman would be held to high standards to keep him satisfied. It was much less imposing to accept warriors in good standing that were less threatening.

  Leotie watched the spirit women prepare the potions for Wacasa. She knew her son well, and it was not only his cock that was enamored with the white girl. Wacasa was not the target of the spirit world’s wrath, so she could be adopted into the tribe.

  Aubrey lay in paralyzed fear, not knowing if the women were finished and whether Nashoba would return to the teepee. She watched the three women chanting over the fire in the middle of the space. The smoke rose and swirled as it escaped though the hole in the center of the roof.

  Leotie released her wrists and began to attach her wrist cuffs to stakes over her head. She wrapped more straps around her ankles and secured them so that her legs were spread wide. Aubrey’s mind fought to regain control of her muscles, but the most she could manage were slight twitches. A collar of soft leather circled her throat and was attached by straps on the side to more stakes. The Indian kept staring at her with a calm determination that held a hint of gentle amusement. Her dark gaze scared the hell out of Aubrey.

  Slowly, Aubrey felt movement returning to her limbs. Her throat was very dry and no sound came out when she tried to speak. Yepa knelt down and squeezed her mouth open again. She dripp
ed meat juice from a small pouch into the woman’s mouth.

  After Aubrey did not detect the bitterness of the drug they had fed her earlier, she sucked the rich broth to ease her parched throat. Herbs had flavored the meat, and the warm liquid was a refreshing change from the tough jerky she had been given on the journey to the village.

  Yepa lowered the pouch, and Aubrey felt the skin sack enter her mouth. At first, it did not alarm her, and she continued drinking and soothing her throat. At some point, two attached leather strips with small knots at the ends unfurled from the sides, and were swallowed down with the juice. They caused her stomach to retch and she tried to use her tongue to dislodge them.

  Leotie knelt over her head and gazed into her frightened green stare. “My son is a big man, Wacasa. It is best you get used to his size.”

  It took a moment for Aubrey to understand the meaning of the statement. As much as she liked sucking cock, she had never let a man push down her throat. The thought of suffocating panicked her. She tried to shake her head, as much as the neck restraint would allow.

  Yepa walked to the fire and returned with a leather wrapped plug. She fed the thick rod into the emptying sack in Wacasa’s mouth. The white woman’s eyes watered and pleaded up. Yepa put a flat palm on the girl’s gripping stomach. “This is enough for now. She is inexperienced.”

  Namid knelt between Aubrey’s spread thighs, and she handed Yepa one of the two small bowls she was holding. “Leotie, try to keep her calm.”

  Leotie cupped Wacasa’s chin and lifted until the wide green stare met her steady black gaze. When the girl tried to look down at the other two women, Leotie tightened her hold. “Calm, Wacasa.” There was a sadistic, cruel shine in the Indian’s eyes. “The preparation will help you adjust to your new life.”

  Aubrey fought the strips in her throat and was forced to breathe through her nose. She felt fingers rubbing something oily onto her nipples and fingers spreading her labia. Aubrey bit down on the plug in her mouth and cried. The woman staring at her kept a firm hold on her chin, and wiped her tears with her other hand. She rubbed the moisture between the pads of her fingers and smiled. Nashoba would like this fear from her.