The Barbarian's Captive

by Maddie Taylor

  A roar of anger rang out an instant before a pair of sharp swats landed across her buttocks. Stunned, she let go, blinking back the tears that instantly sprang to her eyes. They weren’t from the sting on her rear, rather from the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness.

  “Please,” she cried. “They’re going to leave me behind!”

  Her pleas went unanswered. Worse, each time she spoke, the being would hitch his step, sending her flying up in the air so that she landed across his shoulder again, robbing her of breath.

  When they moved through a clearing, a break in the canopy allowed a view of the sky. Pink fingers of fading light streaked across the growing darkness. As night rapidly approached, the twin suns had disappeared, which meant her team and the shuttle were likely gone as well.

  Hopelessness and despondency set in, escape now impossible.

  * * *

  No match for his superior size and strength, she kicked and pounded her fists against his back, though her struggles were useless. At last, her energy clearly spent, she drooped over his shoulder. He hadn’t expected her to be biddable, although the way she’d fought him like a wild animal had been a surprise. Her tenacity was admirable, yet futile. Small and fragile by comparison, he could have easily snapped her bones with the twist of his wrist. He’d exercised great care, however, focusing on gaining firm control of her without damaging or hurting her in any way.

  Up ahead, Trask, his warrior commander, entered the path and gave the signal call to alert the camp of their approach. He had caught one of the small females early on and sent her to the camp with some of the other men. Then, as always, his friend had taken position close by as Kerr continued his hunt. Not that he needed his help, but he was there to guard and protect as befitted one of his station.

  Upon entering the clearing, he eyed with distaste the cage that had been set up on the far side of the camp. He counted seven females inside, the struggling wild cat over his shoulder making their total count eight.

  What a blessing the Maker has gifted us with today!

  They had come to hunt big game… and found a quarry much more valuable. He could hardly wait to get her to his tent and test their compatibility. If they were a positive match as he expected them to be, and at first glance her form and features appeared remarkably like a Primarian’s, he could move forward with the breaching and mate bonding. As her soft form shifted on his shoulder, her full breasts rubbing against his back, Kerr’s body stirred, giving him even more hope that the females would be the answer to their prayers.

  A cheer went up as twelve of his warriors came out to greet his arrival. “Max Kerr has caught a female of his own,” one shouted.

  Another called, “Maker be praised!”

  “The time to rejoice is when we get them home,” Kerr warned. “They may have protectors about.” He looked to Lothar, Trask’s second in command. “Have you set patrols?”

  “Yes, Princep. We have established a safe perimeter of one hundred gradions.”

  Kerr nodded in approval as he set his female down, keeping a firm grip on one of her arms to keep her by his side. Although the chase had been exhilarating, he’d expended too much energy capturing the little nymph to let her escape him now. As if sensing his worry, Mordrun, his kinsman and one of their elders, called to him.

  “We have cages set up for containment, Kerr. After hearing how they mewl and carry on, I ordered them placed on the other side of the camp. I didn’t want them disturbing your rest.”

  Glancing at the detested cages intended for animals, not potential mates of warriors, he noticed that most of the small creatures were huddled together watching them warily, some whimpered, while a few sobbed unrestrainedly. One stood at the bars, the female taller and more muscular than the others, but no less beautiful. She silently stared out at them through glistening eyes. He sensed anger and hostility, more so than fear; this one would warrant watching.

  Glancing down at his own female, he noticed her eyes were dry. As one of the smallest of the women, the top of her head only reached the middle of his chest, yet she bravely faced her enemy without weeping. Her gaze was filled with wariness as it darted around the encampment, openly sizing up her situation with a shrewd calmness. It was fitting that this intrepid female should be his.

  The instant she spotted the cage, she sucked in a horrified gasp of air and began pulling against his grip.

  “Be still, mate,” he murmured in her ear, both of his hands firmly restraining her as he drew her against his much larger body. Perhaps understanding his tone, if not his words, she quieted.

  Escape being a prime concern, he knew a cage would be the safest place for her, though it bothered him greatly. She didn’t deserve to be punished for running and fighting for her freedom, an instinctive response in all creatures when threatened. In her place, he would have done the same — except he wouldn’t have run, instead battling with all of his strength, never giving up until the Maker himself had claimed the life from his body.

  His gaze returned to the cage and homed in on the angry female. She grasped the bars in a white-knuckled grip, as though barely holding her emotions in check. Kerr knew the humiliation of treating them like cattle was not going to aid their cause in making them biddable.

  “Caging them may not be the most prudent approach if we mean to mate with them, Mordrun.”

  “We would be blessed if that were the case, but the prospect is highly unlikely. Look at them. They are so small. I doubt they would be able to safely deliver a warrior’s offspring. I don’t see the appeal.”

  “If that is true, I think your palm has been your consort for entirely too long,” Trask declared with a hearty laugh. “Open your eyes. They are softer and more rounded than any of our females. Imagine curling up against those curves as you sleep, or having that beauty welcome you home with warm, willing arms and spread thighs after being away. I, for one, find that very appealing, and like our leader, plan to keep mine with me in my tent tonight. I’ll need no tests to see if we are congruent. My hard rod being enveloped by a warm, tight sheath is all the compatibility testing that I need.”

  Grinning, he slapped the elder on the shoulder as he passed. His quarry, a petite, fair-haired female with big brown eyes, was the only other one on her feet. She stared at him with narrowed eyes. Though not nearly as formidable as her larger comrade, she still made her displeasure at the situation clear. Naturally, his friend would want a challenge, as well.

  “Trask,” Kerr warned, “You know the testing must come first. Touch, but do not breach, until we are assured of compatibility and a positive mate pairing.”

  His friend inclined his head, though he didn’t slow his pace as he quickly crossed to the cage and withdrew the now struggling female he had claimed. With ease, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to a tent on the perimeter of the clearing. Kerr wasn’t worried. An honorable warrior, Trask would do as required, despite his enthusiasm.

  His gaze swept down to his own female. She also had pale hair atop her head, in a stunning mixture of colors. Most of the strands glowed with the brightness of the midday suns, other shades of yellow and gold streaked through the thick mass like the doro petali, his mother’s favorite, a golden flower abundant in the gardens at home. It was beautiful, and unlike anything he’d seen before. Constrained in a coil at the back of her head, much of her hair had come loose in her flight to escape. Long springy curls fell about her shoulders, some clinging to her damp cheeks and neck in the humid air.

  His body reacted to her full breasts, curvy hips, and rounded thighs, all of which were plainly evident in her clinging garments. She was pleasing to the eye — and equally agreeable to his other parts as well. Soft and alluring, he determined to use other means to contain her if need be.

  And those means didn’t include cold steel bars.

  “She’ll stay with me until we rejoin our people tomorrow.”

  “Take care, Kerr,” the elder warned. “They’re small but ferocious.
Lothar’s female bit him and drew blood.”

  “Do you think I cannot control one tiny female, Mordrun?”

  “Never that,” his kinsman quickly replied. “Although I’m sure Lothar thought the same thing before his fingers were chomped on as though they were the evening meal. I merely caution you, Princep. We need you to lead with all your appendages intact.”

  Kerr barked with laughter at his concern. When he did, the female jumped. As she peered up at him warily, he noticed the color of her eyes for the first time. They were a luminescent green, much like uladite, the precious stones they mined to produce fuel on their home planet. Everything about her was appealing and exotic.

  “Your words of warning are duly noted. Come morning, if I lack any appendages that diminish my abilities to lead in any way, you’ll be the first to hear my apology. Until then, she stays with me.” He placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, squeezing her reassuringly before starting toward his tent. “Have food sent.”

  His tone had taken on a sharper inflection, something not lost on Mordrun, who recognized when enough was enough and bowed. “Yes, Max Kerr.”

  With his hand riding low on her back, Kerr guided his would-be mate into his quarters. Lamps had been lit using the illuminating crystals that were abundant back home. While luxurious for a tent, he missed the many comforts of his residence, the bathing pool in particular. This would do for the night, however.

  As he stepped by the female to pour a glass of something cool for both of them to drink, she darted toward the door. He sighed, not giving chase, knowing his long legs were quite capable of crossing the expanse of the large tent and foiling her escape before she got to the door. Instead, he poured two glasses of vilo, a fermented fruit drink that would help soothe them both and perhaps relax her for the upcoming evening. He did so while listening to her howl of frustration. As expected, her exodus had been thwarted by his guards blocking her way.

  Unhurriedly, he set the two glasses on a table by the bed, then crossed to the door to retrieve his charge where she struggled in vain against the hold his men had on her upper arms. Once he stood before all three, he gave a brief nod and she was released, the guards ducking back outside.

  Curling a hand around her nape, he began to guide her back to the bed, but she hadn’t given up her fight quite yet. She twisted around, babbling something in her native tongue he assumed was anything but complimentary. When she didn’t get the reaction she clearly expected, she tried to squirm free of his hold. That failed too, so she struck out at him.

  He easily gathered her wrists in one hand and spun her around, more out of fear that she would harm herself than any damage her weak blows might inflict upon him. Kerr grasped her around her waist and lifted her, pinning her under his arm facing backwards as he toted her once again to the bed. Halfway there, she surprised him by wriggling in his grasp, and as Mordrun had predicted, she bit him sharply on the back of his thigh.

  “You imp!” he exclaimed. “That’s twice.” With her rounded bottom in the perfect position, he gave her a dozen sharp open hand swats. Ignoring her yelps and unintelligible shrieks of protest, he barked, “No biting!” giving her two firm spanks on her upper thighs.

  She couldn’t understand his words, of course, but the way she stiffened and ceased her struggles told him his stern tone, and what to his way of thinking was the barest of punishments, managed to cross the language barrier. He found her instant response to his dominance interesting indeed.

  A male-oriented society, on Primaria the men were the leaders and undisputed heads of the family unit, the females falling under his authority and protection. They were treated well though, honored and respected for the life-giving role they held. However, the number of women had dwindled drastically in past generations, making them precious above all else. They had strict rules, in a social order that had worked well for them for centuries, placing females subservient to the male and subject to his discipline when needed. The use of corporal punishment was not out of the ordinary. In fact, the civil council of elders encouraged and allowed it by law, within limits.

  Kerr didn’t believe in the harsh punishments deemed acceptable for women. Most of his warriors were of the same belief. Being bigger and stronger than their females, they preferred more creative punishments to earn compliance, and from his experience, such corrections were very effective. He didn’t anticipate his little alien would require more than a trip or two over his knee, her bare bottom taking the brunt of his displeasure, before she learned their ways. Otherwise, getting her to comply would come in the form of bending her body to his will, which would end up being pleasurable for them both.

  He smiled as she squirmed in his hold, the sight of her rounded behind in the clinging uniform most appealing, as was her alluring female scent which filled the air. Her resistance seemed a token display at best, not the tooth and nail battle of earlier. The way she responded to his dominance made him suspect she wasn’t a stranger to male discipline; perhaps her own kind practiced similar male/female roles. With a grin, he swept his hand over her freshly spanked bottom and squeezed. She squeaked, and if he wasn’t mistaken, pushed her curvy backside ever so slightly back against his hand. He grinned, immensely pleased. Already they had found ways they were compatible. And he firmly believed if he slipped his fingers between her thighs at that moment, they would come away wet. If the test showed them compatible with a biocellular match high enough for successful mate bonding, she would suit him perfectly.

  Arriving at the bed, he picked up a fur-lined cuff and tether which someone — likely Mordrun, who knew he would be opposed to the cages — had conveniently staked into the floor of his tent. Without putting her down, he wrapped the restraint snugly around her ankle. He snapped the interlocking teeth of the latch into place, one that he alone had the power to release, and set her on her feet.

  She tugged on it immediately, testing its strength and when it held firm, looked up at him with her stunning green eyes. The tremor that rushed through her body as she stood before him betrayed her anxiety. With nothing he could say to ease her fears, he tried touch, but as he lifted his hand to her face she flinched away. Unsurprising after what she’d been through, though no less frustrating. Patience and gentleness this night would have to suffice.

  With a firm hand on her shoulder, he pressed her down until she was seated on the edge of the bed. He then retrieved the vilo from the table and offered her the glass. She frowned, eying it skeptically, as if it was poison. He sighed, and took a sip from her glass before handing it back to her. This time she lifted a tentative hand and took it.

  “Drink,” he urged, keeping his voice at a low pitch, hoping to convey a sense of soothing calm. “I know you are thirsty after running through the jungle in this heat.” He raised his own glass and tossed back a healthy swig, before tipping his chin toward the drink she still warily held.

  He watched and waited, amused when she sniffed the contents delicately, then took a hesitant sip. After the first taste, her eyes widened. She promptly took another, upending it and draining her glass.

  He chuckled as he relieved her of the empty goblet. “I hope you can hold your spirits, little one.”

  His name was called, as one of his men sought entry.

  “Come,” he replied.

  Mordrun entered with a covered tray. Kerr glanced at it briefly, knowing it didn’t contain their supper. First things first.

  “Leave it there,” Kerr indicated the chest at the foot of the bed. “I’ll see to it myself.”

  The older man cast him a puzzled look. “I have done this many times. I am capable—”

  “I know you are. Look at her. She is like a frightened animal and I do not wish to subject her to any unnecessary strain by having more hands than necessary touch her. I will see to the task myself. Leave it and go.”

  “But—”

  Kerr flashed him an annoyed look. “I tire of you questioning my commands.” When his captive jumped at the booming sound of
his voice, he instantly regretted his impatience with his subject. For her benefit, he continued more softly, though with the same firm intent. “Leave us. Now.”

  “As you wish, Maxime Princep. I heartily apologize. I did not mean to overstep.” With a bow, Mordrun rushed from the tent.

  Kerr pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Breathing deep, he chided himself for his unusually short temper. He blamed the excitement over finally finding a compatible species for breeding. He would apologize to his kinsman later. For now, he focused on his little captive, and lessening the trauma of the task that lay ahead. At the very least, it would be intriguing to him, though likely unpleasant for her. Nonetheless, it was necessary and best seen to immediately so that they could move on to more pleasant endeavors.

  When he opened his eyes and had regained control, he felt her gaze upon him. Looking down into those brilliant green pools, he noticed small flecks of blue in her irises, her species’ coloring so unique — and very appealing. In her eyes, he also read distrust, something that tempted him to call Mordrun back. He decided against it though, the thought of someone else touching her filling him with distaste and considerable anger. Already, he considered her as his own, and rightfully, the duty fell to him. Intimacy was the natural next step in their journey toward mating. She would find it hard to understand, and without him being able to communicate and explain the need, even more difficult to accept.

  Moving closer, he put a hand to the side of her head. Fascinated by the paleness of her hair, he rubbed a thick, glossy lock between his fingers, noting the downy texture, the way it curled around his hand, as if clinging to him and seeking more of his touch. When he let it loose to gently stroke her cheek, she drew away, making him angry. He concealed it, knowing it wasn’t directed at her, but rather at his inability to make her understand that he truly meant her no harm.

  That didn’t change the fact he firmly intended to make her his.