by Calista Skye
What? Now I'm genuinely moved by a kidnapper not raping me?
But the thing is: if a kidnapper takes you to a better place than you were kidnapped from, and feeds you and gives you head and demands nothing from you, is he really a kidnapper? Or just a saint?
I get up and put my cavelady clothes on. I suspect my hair is in shameful disarray, even for a stone age woman. But I'm not cutting it. Not until I'm back on Earth.
The fire is burning and someone is obviously preparing breakfast. Or brunch.
I wander out of the house in search of a convenient bush. Even though this house kind of has indoor plumbing, I don't think it's of the kind I can use.
When I return to the house, Trak'zor is kneeling by the fire. He has another loincloth on now, one that looks newer. And he has tied his hair back with a piece of tree bark.
Has he taken extra care of his appearance today, just because of me? I hide a happy smile behind my hand.
He glances at me, and I do my best to look attractive in my shapeless dinosaur skin outfit.
“Good morning.”
“Aurora is up,” he observes. “Slightly after the middle of the day.”
“I not can help sleeping heavy. Trak'zor is to blame, make soft bed for innocent woman where must sleep for hours until sun is high over trees.”
Yeah, my grammar isn't the best this early in the morning. But I'll get better with practice. It'll be a challenge. The cavemen often address each other by name instead of 'you', and I'm not sure I understand the rules for when that's appropriate.
I sit down by the fire, feeling the last of the sleepiness leave my mind. “What you will do today?”
He hands me a steaming cup of some kind of brew that smells completely unlike coffee. “Today I have cut firewood, caught turkeypig, collected herbs, patrolled for Bigs and tried to catch more fish.”
I take a sip. It taste reminds me of how newly laid asphalt smells. Not bad, compared to some other things I've had in this jungle. “Did you catch more fish?”
He nods to a wooden post where one little fish is hanging from a wooden peg.
“Oh. One only. Is fine. More tomorrow, maybe.” My thought processes are still sluggish, but an idea or two have been dancing around in my head without any shape to them. Now I try to tease them out.
“Trak'zor must go across bridge to hunt turkeypig?”
“There are no turkeypigs on the island. Or other Smalls or Bigs.”
“Dangerous go into jungle.”
“Always dangerous,” he agrees.
One idea becomes clear in my mind. I might be able to do something about that.
I get the knife he gave me and point at the blade. “Trak'zor can make iron?”
He hands me a little leaf with a fried little fish filet on it. Probably yesterday's catch.
“Iron isn't made, it is found. Only then can it be made into blades. No iron around here.”
I nod. Makes sense. Cavemen like their blades and their smithing, but I can't see a forge anywhere around the house. So Trak'zor probably doesn't have easy access to iron ore.
“Never mind,” I say and bite into the fried fish. “We'll find way. Trak'zor has thin rope?”
He glances at me, then takes a coil from a peg on another wooden post and hands it over.
It's the twine he tied me up with.
I don't want to touch it. “You have thinner than this?”
He goes into the house and returns with something that looks like sewing thread.
It's a yellowish white, it's pretty thin and I have to use a lot of force to snap it. It just might work. “Is much good.”
I roll it up again and put it into my pouch of medical supplies. Then I point to my own chest. “Trak'zor feeling better?”
He half turns to show me.
“Where?” I get up and walk over to him, placing my hand on his hard chest.
Yesterday he had a shallow wound here. Today, there just a pinkish scar with a little bit of redness around it.
“It healed?” I can't believe it. I've never seen the cavemen back at our cave heal this fast from any injury. And Trak'zor was bleeding pretty profusely right after the arrow hit him.
“It healed fast,” he says calmly with a little smirk on his face. “Aurora is expert at healing and stopping infection.”
I stroke the suede-like texture of his white stripes, then reluctantly take my hand off his chest. “And the other one?”
He stands up and lifts the loincloth a little on the side where I shot him. Yeah, it's pretty much gone here, too. Just a shallow cut remains, but it's clearly healing fast.
I scratch my chin. “That is strange. I mean, of course Aurora much skilled at healing. But is healing faster than thought.”
“The Woman is divine,” he says simply. “She has healing hands.” Then he sits down and continues his work.
I look at my hands. I don't believe they're healing hands. Maybe the paste I smeared on him yesterday was especially potent?
But I'm glad he's fine. My shooting him doesn't seem to have done any damage.
Except to my freedom. Maybe.
“Any dangerous Bigs or Smalls on island?” I ask again, because you just cannot be too sure about those things here.
“Only irox from the air,” he replies. “Aurora going somewhere?”
“I want look for something. Something useful. Right back.”
He nods once, and I walk in the direction of the little not-quite-forest in the middle of the island. The rocks are pleasant to walk on, polished so smooth by some natural force that it almost feels like they're springy.
The trees in the grove are not as tall as the ones in the jungle on the mainland, except the salen tree, which is just the same immense height as all of them.
But I'll examine the trees later, for my second idea. Right now I have to check if the first one is viable.
The grove only covers an area of a tennis court, but it's very dense and has a great variety of all kinds of bushes and trees. I immediately spot a slender sapling that I know I could make decent arrows out of, and a couple of other young trees I could probably turn into bows. But my first act on the island that Trak'zor is so proud of is not going to be to chop down all the trees.
I can't find the thorn bush that I was hoping, but I find one with thorns that are a little shorter, but still have a cruel little curve in them. Perfect.
I gather a handful of them using the knife, and I come away with just a couple of scratches.
Then I look closer at the trees. The salen tree I leave alone, but I knock on the trunks of the other ones. Knocking on some of them just results in a nothing except a sore knuckle, and none of them give me much resonance. Oh well, it was just a thought.
I take a longer way back to the house, approaching it from the other direction. I find the spring that the water running under the house comes from. It's hard to miss, because it's a round, rocky pool of the clearest water I've ever seen. In the middle is the hole that the water comes up from like a little fountain. I squat and stick my hand into it. It's cool and fresh like no other water I've found here on this planet. Even the water in the lake doesn't seem this pure.
I scoop some of it into my hands and drink as much as I can. Yeah, this is what water is supposed to taste like.
“Aurora likes to explore,” comes a deep voice from behind me.
This island relaxes me so much I don't even flinch. I'm glad he's here. “She does. Sometimes. This where you get drinking water?”
Trak'zor squats down beside me and uses his hands to drink, just like me. “Here and the lake. Both have good water.”
“But this water better.”
“Better,” he agrees and slurps more from his hand. “Sacred water, probably. Provided for the Ancestors to the man who dared enter the forbidden island. Another sign it should not be forbidden.”
In the distance the sun is reflected off the mysterious island further out in the lake. It's so different from everything els
e around it, so out of place. I nod towards it. “That island forbidden, too?”
“Not yet. But I'm sure it will be.”
I sit down on the polished rock. This is as pleasant a place as I've ever seen. I take out the string and the thorns and experiment with tying one thorn to the end.
“This is thing for catch fish,” I explain when Trak'zor looks at the project in my hands. “It not is perfect, but fish will bite on it from being curious. They want see, who is much stupid to think fish will bite on clumsy and pitiful thing like this. So they bite, eat hook. But sticks in mouth! Then Aurora pull ashore, kill and cook. Then fish think, 'much smart Aurora, not stupid after all'. Is much triumph!”
Trak'zor nods slowly, plainly not convinced. I don't blame him. Fishing hooks usually don't work quite like that, but this one better.
Back at the cave, the girls and I have sometimes come across bushes with long, sharp thorns on them. We have discussed how useful those would be to use as fishing hooks, but of course we'd never seen fish in any of the streams, so we never tried to use them for that purpose. This will be the first attempt, although these thorns are smaller.
I go through a few small thorns, experimenting with cutting little notches in them so the thread will catch on the smooth, shell-like surface. Unlike most of the work I've done on this planet, this is actually pretty pleasant. Probably that's mostly because Trak'zor is sitting right beside me, sharpening his sword with a gray rock and water from the spring.
And for some reason, I have no urge to fill this silence. We're both doing our thing, together, and I'm still feeling safe.
Trak'zor lifts his head to scan the sky about once a minute, and his casual vigilance puts me totally at ease, to the point where I'm able to let go of the tight anxiety that's been a constant element of my life since we were abducted from Earth.
I glance over at Trak'zor. I always liked watching men doing something they're good at. When I was a kid, I would often sit on the counter and watch my dad experiment with ingredients in his bakery. He'd try different kinds of flour, different amounts of yeast from different sources, various kinds of milk and fats and even spices. He would calmly chat with me about every topic under the sun, and his face would look just like Trak'zor's is looking now, relaxed and peaceful and just ... happy, I guess.
Then he would place the experiment in the oven, clap his hands together in a cloud of flour and come over and pinch my cheek or ruffle my hair or give me a little tickle so I would squeal happily. Then he'd let me help him clean up. Back then I really thought I was helping, but later I realized that a five-year-old trying to clean a large bowl of sticky dough residue must have been more of a hindrance than a help. Of course he only did it so I'd feel useful. And so I'd learn to clean up after cooking. And because he just plain enjoyed my company. Like I enjoyed his.
And then we'd evaluate the results of his experiment. He'd give me one still steaming piece of bread, wrapped in a clean kitchen towel so I wouldn't burn my fingers. And he'd ask me what I thought, and which flavors I thought I could detect. And I would do my best to figure out the little nuances, like it was a game. Nutmeg. Cardamom. Cilantro sometimes. And so often cinnamon, because he knew I loved it.
Oh, the smells in that little small-town bakery ...
“Aurora is injured?”
I look up. Trak'zor is looking at me with worry on his alien face.
I wipe my cheeks and sniffle once more. Shit, that homesickness really creeps up on me sometimes. This is not what Xena would do.
“No, no. Not injured. Thinking only.”
He puts his sword down, leans over and places one large, callused hand under my cheek, using the other to wipe the moisture off my face with a gentleness that tells me that he's done this before. Many times.
15
- Aurora -
I look into his eyes, astonished.
Impossibly, his blue lasers now have a mildness to them. “Aurora is thinking of difficult things. Sometimes that is necessary.”
His hands feel good on me. Now I'm fully here again, and it's not a bad place to be. “I'm fine. Really.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Aurora is fine. Still some things are difficult. For all of us.”
I give him a little smile. “Nothing difficult for Trak'zor. Has island where is safe. Wins against Water Big. Fresh water runs under house. Heals easy from injuries.”
He frowns. “This island wasn't safe when I got here. I made it safe. The vrok I defeated because I practice with the sword every day. The water didn't run under the house when I came here. I made it so. The injuries ... are much the same thing. There were many difficulties. There still are.”
“Trak'zor made island good.”
“The island was good. I made it a little better.”
I place a hand on his wrist. “You made it wonderful.”
Three heartbeats go by, and I'm able to hold his powerful gaze. Then the most boyish smile you could ever imagine slowly spreads on his face. He's proud of what he's done with this island, and he has every right to be. I think he likes that I appreciate it.
He reaches out and puts his hand behind my head, then kisses me with such passion and sudden force that it takes my breath away as the lust I've been feeling all morning explodes in me.
I respond to his affections with the same frantic motions, feeling his sharp fangs with my lips and tongue and knowing they won't hurt me. I slide over onto his lap while we're still kissing, then impatiently pull my shirt over my head and with one hand lift the dinosaur skin skirt over my hips, bunching it up at my waist.
And then I'm grinding on him and frantically trying to reach under his loincloth, which is unreasonably difficult in this position, especially when his scent is filling my nose and I can feel the hardness I'm sitting on and I really want it inside me.
Trak'zor places one hand under my butt and lifts me as easily as if I were a rag doll, an impossible feat that makes me feel light and dainty. With his one free hand he calmly loosens his drawstring, and I help him pull the loincloth all the way off. Again I reach greedily to his crotch.
And my eyes widen. That ... feels very interesting. Rock hard, of course. Throbbing and ready and all that. But also ...
I raise my hips and position his hot spear at my now sopping wet entrance, then slide myself down onto it. Just an inch, because damn that's big.
I look into his eyes as I slowly impale myself on him, whimpering in lust and just a little bit of pain. There's a burning sensation as my most female flesh has to adjust to the alien invader.
Trak'zor gets the point and helps hold me up, relieving the stress on my thighs as he fills me up, forcing all of my attention to his eyes and the hot spear inside me. It's right at the limit of being too big for me.
He bottoms out, and I sit there for a moment, feeling fuller than I ever have before. And hotter and wetter and more aroused. I've never been this stretched out. Oh, who am I kidding? He is too big for me. And somehow that makes it better.
I start to raise myself again, but then Trak'zor takes all my weight on his hands and slowly lifts me with his sensational strength. His cock passes back out through me, and the pain gives way to delightful little sparks that shoot straight to my clit.
He lifts me almost all the way off him, and I'm about to protest when he halts and lowers me again, a little faster than the first time.
He spears me again, but now I'm ready for it, I know he'll almost fit and I can let go a little.
My mouth falls open and I'm pretty sure my eyes roll back in my head. I have to examine that cock later. Because it's not a smooth shaft. When it goes in it touches every part of my tunnel and lights them up, like a myriad of brilliant little crystals throughout my pelvis, sparkling and glittering and making me gasp.
He lifts me, and I get the same incredible spectacle in reverse. If you were to make a sex toy which had everything, you'd still not get close to anything like this.
“You crazy,” I pant as he slides almo
st out of me again and my pussy clenches in protest, desperate to keep him in there.
He lowers me again, faster, and now all the individual little crystals merge to one glowing, infinitely complex rainbow of pleasure.
I lay my arms around Trak'zor's thick neck, relax and just let him handle it all. He obviously knows how, and I'm losing my ability to coordinate my body.
Using his hands under my hips, he calmly fucks me as the heat pools at my very core with each stroke in and out. I could be here forever, just enjoying this and ignoring everything else.
I'm distantly aware that I'm moaning uncontrollably with every stroke, with a voice that's small and thin in gleeful surrender. Just a touch of my clit will push me over the edge now.
And then I feel it. There's something else at my pussy, something hard and insistent, pushing its way up my slit.
Then, it was as I thought. Because of course a man like this doesn't have just one cock. He has two. My eyes fly open all by themselves. Or even ... three?
Then it touches my clit like a hot, soft tongue swirling around it, and at the same time the fact that I'm being fucked by an alien caveman descends on me. My mind and pussy explode at the same time, engulfing me with heat and light, and I lay my head back and scream.
I have no power here. Trak'zor fucks me with his alien spears while the climax shakes me and makes me mewl incoherent nothings into the warm sun.
Then he slows down his thrusting, and I feel his whole body tense up under me as his movements become jerky. His huge cock flexes inside me and seems to swell, and then he grunts loudly as he shoots his boiling hot manly juices, spraying down the core of my sex in hard spurts that I feel all the way through my now electrically sensitive body.
I hang onto his neck while my pussy twitches uncontrollably around him and I ride out the ecstasy and the aftershocks. It takes me a good while.
“You crazy,” I repeat when I've calmed down enough to trust my voice, still clinging to him. “Much crazy Trak'zor with much big spear.”
