Framed in the low oval doorway stood Prometheus with a huge grin on his dark face. Stripped down to loincloth and sandals, a bush-knife thrust into his belt, his dark eyes searched the shadows in the dim light until he saw the object of his quest. Nimbly, he leaped into the wagon, a master key shining in his blunt fingers. Within ihn the chain holding Violet to the restraining bar was open. He grabbed her by her rich red hair and dragged her over the bodies of the other girls until they were both out of the wagon and standing in the cool night air.
He looked down at her, his handsome features composed in a grin of triumph in the light of Gor's three moons. "I decided I wished to own you after all," he growled, before tossing the wench over his broad shoulder and running out of the circle of caravan wagons and across the broad space of the stone-paved highway, into the shadowed darkness of the Rainforest :. The Administrator of Bazi, Sirius Longfellow, was an ambitious man.
He wished to increase trade to Bazi using the new Bazi-Schendi Highway. To do so, he needed to assure merchants of the safety of the thoroughfare and toward such assurance, he maintained a guard along the road. The Highway Guard was two-fold, aerial and ground troops. Tarn-riders patrolled the road from above during the daylight hours. They communicated by mirror signals and colored banners. Kaiila riders patrolled from saddleback at night as well as day. Guard posts were built every ten pasangs along the highway. They communicated by drum.
At the fort most nearest the site of the caravan attack was a sleen kennel. Using coded drum communication, the commander at the scene of the raid ordered packs of sleen and their trainers to come help search for the local bandit band who had made off with the caravan's goods.
The sleen, a long serpentine yet furred bodied, six legged creature with two rows of sharp teeth in its triangular head, sense of smell is comparable to that of the Terran Polar Bear, which can catch a discrete scent over a ninety-mile distance. The sleen is the very definition of tenacious, once onto its quarry it will not deviate, it will not be distracted until bringing down its prey, unless otherwise ordered to by its trainer. The gray sleen is the most gifted hunter of the various breeds. At the break of dawn a pack of six grays were onto the fresh trail of Prometheus. :. He had decided to travel through the entire night after the raid, reasoning that putting distance between himself and the raided caravan was his greatest safety. His bodyguards had be separated from him during the raid, but that was no concern. He had no qualms of making his way back to Ushindi on his own.
It was only in the ahn of Dawn, the next morning that Prometheus finally carried the slave up a tree and make a rude bed of branches. He tied a leather thong to his wrist and the other end to slave's wrist, then he went soundly to sleep.
Violet trembled against him at the unfamiliar sounds of the jungle. She had a fierce spirit and had proven that time and again during her adventuresome life, but the mad dash through the night time forest had knocked her off-balance. She was a stranger in a strange land and she was utterly dependent upon this new master for her very survival. And with that thought, exhausted, she fell asleep as well.
In his sleep Prometheus heard the distant barking. The yelping blended in with nonsensical dreams of being held captive by giant trees and being smothered by a pile of slave girls. He awoke with a start, the noon-hour Sun shining down through the branches of the tree he'd nested in. The girl he had stolen lie against him, one arm across his face, over his nose. He was about to slap her awake and upbraid her for it when he heard the far away sounds of the barking sleen.
"Shit," he cursed. He shoved the arm from across his face and shook her rudely awake. "Wake up, slut."
Violet came awake instantly, so trained was she to the command tone of a master. "Master?" Then she tensed in surprise, realizing she was high up in a tree and clung desperately to him.
He scowled impatiently. "No time for kijakazi stupidity. The sleens have been set on me. Time to get going." He untried the thong about his wrist, tossed the girl unceremoniously over his shoulder once more and descended nimbly down the branches of the mango tree. :. For three days the sleens relentlessly pursued them. But, Violet noticed her kidnapper seemed to be enjoying the chase, as if it were a game. Although a superb dancer and highly fit, she'd lost her wind within the first day of constant running through the Jungle. Prometheus, seeing she couldn't be smacked into going further on her own had once more thrown her over one shoulder and simply continued his pasang eating trot, mindless of the girl's weight. They traveled thusly for sixteen ahn out of the twenty ahn day, stopping only after the Sun had been long down, then up and running again long before it rose.
"There is a margin of safety," he'd told her, on the second day. They'd stopped by a stream to drink and eat bananas from a nearby grove.
"It isn't the sleen who must be outdistanced but the men who hold their leashes. Men must stop to eat, they must stop to sleep. The trainers are no doubt city men and not used to the deep Jungle, not on intimate terms with her ways. I can keep ahead of them easily enough. The only true danger is if their animals are released, but there is not much chance of that. Tracking sleens are expensive animals, both in gold and in time spent training, the men won't risk losing their pack. But, I don't relish having to run all the way back to Ushindi, eventually the sleen must be neutralized."
How he planned to do so, if he had a plan to do so, he didn't bother to tell her.
On the third day Violet noticed the barking of the sleens seemed closer. "We've entered more open country," he told her when she mentioned her observation. "The men are able to cover more pasangs during the day and I have been slowing down to keep it more interesting. Still, I suppose its time to end this little game," he said, with clear wistful regret.
Violet, however, felt only relief. Although she knew the trackers meant to retrieve her, not kill her, she'd been having nightmares of being tore apart by the sleen pack. :. Part 3
"But, Master, why must I be left tied to a tree?"
Prometheus checked the knot of the thong he'd used to secure her wrists around the sinuous trunk of tall date palm before answering. "You must be restrained because I don't trust you not to run back to the sleen men."
"But, I promise not to, Master. If you leave me tied here the wild animals will get me."
"There is that possibility," he nodded, beginning to turn away. "Most likely, it'll be a hith that'll chose you for its dinner."
"Master," Violet squeaked, in real terror. "But, I promise not to run away."
"So I heard you the first time, girl. But, as I've had to save my energies to stay ahead of the pack, I haven't yet properly breed you, raped you into kolar. I am not yet your true master and therefore cannot trust your word. No, best you be tied until I return. Pray for me to have a successful and swift hunt."
"But--"
Violet was not able to form the rest of her sentence before Prometheus had faded silently into the greenery and black shadows of the Jungle. Finding herself alone, she started at every little sound, the flat plunk of moisture droplets talking down through the leaves and fronds. The brittle snapping of twigs as a stray branch fell from a tree. The stealthy rustle of tiny paws in the underbrush. The natural beauty of her surroundings was lost to the slave as she imagined predators behind every curved trunk, crouched in back of every rotting log on the forest floor.
Time passed and Prometheus seemed to be gone forever. A new anxiety began to assail her. What if he had an accident and could not return to her? What if whatever animal he had gone off to hunt instead killed him? She jerked at her bonds but it was no use, her captor was obviously a man who knew how to tie good knots. It would take hours if not days for her to get loose. And what of the hiths?
Something brushed her leg and Violet cried out. Hopping away on one foot. Her fears came to full realization when she looked down into the black compound eyes of a spider whose ugly hairy body was more than a foot wide.
The spider, alarmed at her sudden motion had backed off a few feet but it s
tared at her boldly with its glittering stygian eyes as it squatted on its eight hairy brown legs and pinched its manables open and closed. Violet hated and feared spiders. Better to be thrown to the sleen than fall victim to an arachnid. A thousand times better. A million. She screamed again and moved around the circle of the palm's trunk. The spider scuttled around as well, taking a tentative step closer to her.
"Shoo," she moaned, kicking at the debris of the forest floor, scattering wet leaves at the spider. It backed off but just a bit. "Shoo. Go away, you nasty thing."
She kicked more leaves and dirt at it, but the spider seemed less than impressed. It began to crawl closer again. Violet moved around the trunk again, the arachnid in pursuit. If not for the look of horror on her face and the frantic movements of her steps, the slave might have been playing a game of chase, but she was deadly serious and so was the omnivorous spider. It bunched its legs under its bulbous body and sprang at the girl, landing on her foot.
Violet screamed loud enough to disturb the monkeys way up high in their branches. They began to chatter and fuss in turn, the forest becoming a riot of noise as she kicked with her foot, revolted at the feeling of the spider's hairy feet and body touching her naked flesh. Her panicked motions managed to dislodge the creature before it could set itself to take a bite. But, sensing she was easy prey, it gathered itself for another spring.
The slave girl opened her mouth and gave a full-throated wail. The monkeys answered with a chorus of their own disharmonious screeches.
"Shut up!" Prometheus had returned, his approach unheard and unseen.
Violet nearly wet herself in relief. "Master. A spider, a giant spider. It tried to eat me, over there." She pointed with her head.
Prometheus turned and saw the creature, which had not backed off very far with his appearance. "It's just a rock spider. And its far from a giant one," he said, unimpressed. "The adults average around four feet. I'd say this one is only a few months old."
"Truly, Master, I don't care about its birthday. Please make it go away. Kill it, please."
He shrugged. "Since you plead, so prettily." And with a swift jump of his own, he landed with both feet on the spider, squishing its leathery body and forcing out yellow ocher which splattered against the nearest bushes and the leaves carpeting the ground.
"Yuck," the girl exclaimed, seeing the thick fluid dripping from the bushes, then watching the dying twitching of the creatures legs. "Eew!"
"Alright," the tall Inlander said, walking back to her, "If the screaming hour is over, I've work to do."
He reached for the thong and untied her. Then he bent to the ground and picked up a carcass Violet hadn't noticed until then. It was the body of a moderate-sized tarsk. A long knife gash bleed at its cut throat. Prometheus heaved the dead animal over his shoulders, his hands around it front and hind legs, and began walking away with it. Violet followed at his heels, very closely at his heels. :. Within a quarter-ahn they came to a river. The porcine carcass still over his shoulders, Prometheus strode along the high bank, staring down into the sluggishly moving water, dappled and glinting with the early morning sunlight. Eventually, he stopped and stared intently down into the river, as if in concentration, then he stooped and began gutting the tarsk, tossing the entrails and offal of the animal down into the water. After that, he began hacking off parts of the animal and tossing them into the water as well.
Violet had assumed the tarsk was to be their meal. She was about to open her mouth to ask him what he was doing when the answer became self-evident. Suddenly the slow current began to boil like a pot set over high flames. Something in the water had been sent into a frenzy by the fresh meat.
Prometheus gave a satisfied grunt. "Bint," he said by way of explanation. He stuck the knife into the remains of the carcass and sat down on the bank, swiping his bloody hands on the grass.
"Now there is nothing to do but wait. Come here, sit by me," he ordered her.
Violet obeyed. She watched as he tied the thong once more around his wrist then around hers. Then she saw him stretch out on the bank, lace his fingers behind his head and go to sleep. Eventually, the heat of the tropical Sun made her drowsy as well and she curled up beside him and fell into a fitful nap. Her dreams full of hopping spiders. :. It wasn't until late afternoon that the sleens and the hunters caught up with them.
All through the day, every ahn or so, Prometheus had roused himself and tossed pieces of tarsk into the river, feeding the carnivorous school of Bint. He had begun to think he'd have to hunt up another tarsk before he heard the barking not more than a pasang or two off.
He tossed the last of the tarsk remains out into the middle of the river, the water boiling again, then he moved downstream along the bank for a few dozen yards. He untied the loop about his own wrist and tied it around Violet's, then, he looped her bound wrists over his head. "Hold on to me, no matter what."
"Yes, Master."
He dived from the bank with the girl on his back and swam strong and fast for the far bank. All toll, Prometheus spent less than half an ehn in the water before scrambling up the far sticky clay bank and mounting it. He could see his disturbance had drawn the school of bint to his location. He unhooked the girl's wrists from around his neck, then stood, calmly staring back across the river.
The sleens came, howling, straining at their leashes, overexcited by being so close to their elusive prey. The hunters stared across the bank at Prometheus.
"Come back across with the girl and you will not be killed. We promise your life will be spared and you will only be enslaved."
"I'd prefer death, but, today I chose neither. Go back," he cautioned. "If you try to cross the river you will never see your home again."
"One man, even with so big a knife there in your belt, is no match for three men and six sleen. You're a fool, Inlander, to let us catch up with you. But, even a Jungle man has his limits, eh?"
Then, giving out a bellow of triumph, the hunters signaled their pack to cross. Prometheus didn't stay to watch the inevitable, but led the girl away from the bank and under the trees.
As it was, moving back beneath the dappled shadow of the canopy, they could clearly hear the fish thrashing the water in their feeding frenzy, could clearly hear the agonized cries of the sleen and the men as they all were eaten alive. Prometheus could see Violet cringe at the sounds of men and animals dying in pain. As for himself, he felt nothing for any of them. The men had threatened to enslave him rather than offering an honorable death by combat. They had insulted his honor, a grievous crime. As for the sleen, they would have as eagerly devoured him as the Bint had devoured them.
Fuck them all, each and everyone, he thought. And it wasn't as if he hadn't warned them. :. The slave most carefully followed as Prometheus ran along jungle paths scarcely discernable among the brush and leafy creepers obscuring the Rainforest's floor. She stepped where he stepped, trusting that he knew better than to tread on a serpent or poisonous bug.
Finally, just before nightfall, they reached a clearing of colored grass and Prometheus stopped in the center of it. He made a complete three-hundred sixty degree turn, scanning the hemming tree line. He listened. The monkeys in the canopy were relaxed enough to bicker amongst themselves. Birds sang and squawked undisturbed. Insects chirped contentedly in the grass.
He nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw and sensed. "Kneel, slut."
She immediately sank to her knees on the colored grass, spreading shapely thighs. He bent, untied the girl's wrists and sat beside her on the carpet of multi-colored grass. She felt his rough fingers at her chin, which he used to turn her face completely toward him. He inspected her features closely.
"You are a lovely creature," he said. "And you dance well. That is what doomed you into my kolar girl, that dance, back in the slaver's tent. What name are you allowed?"
"Violet, if it pleases you, Master."
"Eeh," he smiled. "It does please me, just fine."
His touch, his nearness had
made her flesh grow hot, Violet felt the roots of your fiery hair grow sweaty. She'd not been used for more than a week and her unusually high slaveheat began to assert itself.
"I can smell you girl," he chuckled. His voice was deep, arrogant. Amused. "As I smelled you back in Schendi."
"Yes, Master."
She knew it was true. There was something about him which aroused her deeply. Merely from his hand on her chin she had grown wet, wantonly oiled. Violet had told the truth back in the trees when she'd said she wouldn't runaway. There was a fascination about the dark man which stirred her on an animal level, a primal instinctive level beyond thought or control.
He released her chin and put both his hands to her breasts, hefting them, weighing them in his scarred palms. She sucked in her breath as the pads of his big thumbs grazed over the hardening nubs of her nipples.
"Master," she breathed, in a husky sultry tone. And pressed into his touch.
He chuckled again, the undisguised lustful expression of an aroused satyr, before pinching her nipples, twisting them between fingers and thumbs. She hissed, the bittersweet sensation of pain and pleasure shooting straight to her sex, her ringed clit flushing to full hardness between her open thighs.
"Master," she said again. Now, an urgent undertone to her expression.
"Eeh? What is it, slut."
"Girl begs, Master."
Again, the too knowing, too haughty laugh. His cruel touch flinting sparks off her hard nipples, then closing around the full globes of her tits, squeezing them painfully, possessively.
"Girl begs," she whimpered, her midnight blue eyes brimming.
It happened quickly. One second he was sitting before her, mauling her breasts, and, seemingly, the next he had shoved her backwards onto the grass, her legs scissoring wide and he was between them. He pulled aside his loincloth, its under linen, freeing his cock which bobbed out long and thick. The glans had throbbed out fully from its dark hood of foreskin, it gleamed with precum as he took both her wrists, pressing them into the grass as he loomed over her.
Filthy Daddy's Taboo Erotic Sex Stories Page 157