Captive Travelers

by Candace Smith

  “His wife and her sisters are tending to him. He should heal, though he will have a great scar to talk about.” Awi smiled at the cow. “Chief Paytah has decided you provided well for Tokala, and the shaman agrees that you will not be owned by another, Ganali. You will stay in the pen with Waka.”

  Ganali was thrilled. Not to have to return to the cruel man, nor the possible abuse of another warrior, was an unexpected gift. She also thought she might be one step closer to being released, though the thought of leaving the safety of the tribe was a bit frightening.

  “We will begin preparing Waka and you can help her learn.” Awi looked down at Ganali’s hanging breasts. “Let’s get you milked.”

  Ganali looked back to where Waka was once more napping. Last night, Waka let her curl in front of her with her back against her soft breasts. Waka had even put an arm around her, pulling her close to keep her safe. Her skin was warm and soft, and Ganali had peaceful dreams.

  Ganali smiled, and waddled behind Awi under the tarp. Only five young Indian bucks waited today. Soon, Waka will help to ease them with me, she thought happily.

  Ganali crawled over to the milking station, and Awi fed her full breasts through the holes drilled into the wood bench. Bowls rested on the ground, inches below her nipples. She raised to her knuckles and lowered again, feeling the smooth wood squeeze her breasts. Awi gave a few pinched tugs on her nipples until the rich milk began to flow.

  A hand pulled back on her head and Ganali looked once at the young man before he slipped his stiff cock into the ring in her mouth. There was rapid chatter from behind her and fumbling fingers tugged and pinched her protruding clit. She tried to concentrate on emptying her breasts, but soon she was wiggling her bottom in frustration. She did not have to wait long before the young man thrust into her pussy. Ganali smiled in contentment, relieving the pressure on her breasts and the heat of her channel. She hoped that not all of the young men would want Waka.

  Cici woke just as Ganali was returning from under the tarp. She looked different, but Cici could not figure out what the change was. Awi followed a few minutes later, with the quirt in her hand. Cici made the awkward crawl to the enclosure. Her knuckles hurt and her legs were cramping. She hoped they were going to be released.

  She was led over to a low bench with two holes cut into it. Tala was kneeling behind it. The Indian reached for Cici’s breast and she tried to back up, and Awi cut swiftly down on her bottom with the quirt. “Oweee,” Cici shrieked. This was not a guiding tap; it was a hard lash that left a welt.

  “Come, Waka,” Tala ordered. Awi had to lash her again to get her to move forward.

  Cici shook her head, looking fearfully up at the woman and glancing at the holes. They were too small, and even though she had no idea as to their purpose, she knew they would pinch. Tala pushed and fed her breasts through. Cici thought that if she tried to move the bench would follow and be attached to her chest. Tala and Awi each grabbed a curled hand and secured her wrists to the legs of the bench.

  Awi looked over Waka’s back. “I thought you might have changed your mind, Soquila. We are preparing Waka for her first feeding.”

  “I stopped by to check on Honani. The gashes are deep, but I think he will recover. With his wife’s six sisters to help him, he will take his time to recuperate,” Soquila predicted. He liked Honani, and he was pleased Tokala could not coax him into trouble again. The Fox would run wild through the spirit world, probably still chasing his own tail for attention. He looked down at Waka’s pale, wide ass and the dark bush visible between her slightly spread thighs. “Have you checked her knees?”

  “We will feed her first,” Awi stated. “She has spent most of her time enjoying the rich diet of the trough and sleeping.”

  Soquila nodded. This was a good sign. With Waka’s restricted movement, she should soon put on weight. He stroked her bottom, and he laughed when she froze and let out a shriek.

  Cici heard the man behind her. It was humiliating to have him looking at her bottom, and with her legs belted up she could not force her thighs together. She knew he could see her pussy. Her instinct to fight for control over the man turned to fear.

  Tala held a tube made from the intestine of a deer. It was something warriors used on their cocks to prevent pregnancy. This one was filled with a white liquid, and Cici eyed it warily. The buffalo milk was rich and fatty. It was added to the mash of grain in the trough to keep the cow’s breast milk nutritious. To encourage lactation, this tube was laced with fenugreek. It helped sweeten the concoction with a taste of maple.

  The other two tribes they shared the summer plains with, moved south during the winter. The Wehali climbed into the mountains, and they could not take cattle there. It was easier to tame their own cows for the children’s milk, so they left the ranch cattle for the other two tribes. They discovered the children preferred the maple syrupy taste of the milk to that which the plains’ beasts provided. Ganali had performed admirably, but the children would receive a larger portion to strengthen their bones with Waka’s contribution.

  Tala leaned the skin towards the ring in Waka’s mouth and she tried to pull back. Soquila reached between her thighs and began rubbing her slit. “Ooo,” she shrieked. Oh god. Oh god, what are they doing to me? She tried to squeeze her thighs together, and Awi was the first to figure out she was more panicked by the man behind her than by the feeding. There was a burst of Indian dialect Cici could not understand.

  “Is she wet? Is there any sign of arousal?” Awi asked. The looks she had caught Waka giving Ganali began to make sense.

  “No, nothing,” Soquila admitted. He rather prided himself on his abilities.

  “Let me try,” she suggested.

  Soquila looked at her in confusion a moment, and then he understood. “You think she does not want a man?”

  Awi shuffled to Waka’s rear. She stroked along her quivering bottom and she felt an immediate clench beneath the muscle. “For now, perhaps, we will do the first feeding this way. We will offer her my touch as a bribe this evening, after she pleases you.”

  Cici felt the woman’s hands and she stared miserably into Tala’s eyes. “You will drink this, Waka, and Awi will not let Soquila touch you. If you refuse…”

  Cici was terrified. The Indian warrior was a strong, imposing figure, made even more so by her constantly drugged state while he guided her from the farm. Awi’s fingers were stroking along her slit, and the slender digits were producing the cream that the man could not. She closed her eyes and felt the skin slide into her mouth.

  There was a little hole pierced into the bottom of the skin, and Cici felt the thick, sweetened fluid on her tongue. She kept her eyes closed and began to drink. Maybe they would stop this humiliation when it was empty. Oh… oh, Jenny. Oh, god. The fingers stroked her clit, and a finger began to pump inside of her. God, it felt so good. Cici began rocking her hips and forcing the holes on the bench to tug on her breasts.

  Awi kept her on the edge of climax, and Cici barely acknowledged Tala inserting another filled skin. They fed her three of the rich mixtures. Towards the end of the last skin, Awi motioned to Soquila, and his hand replaced hers on Waka’s pussy. “Be gentle,” Awi warned.

  Cici was so close to the edge that she was panting and pushing back into the hand. Her mind did not recognize the change to the rougher, stronger fingers. Soquila followed Awi’s advice, and kept his thrusting finger plunging gently. He longed to be burying his cock inside her folds and feel the slapping softness of her full bottom against his thighs. It was an advantage he had considered over waiting for the raven. And she prefers the touch of a woman? I will train her to want my cock, as well.

  Soquila deftly brought her to orgasm while she bucked and slid her breasts up and down through the holes in the milking bench. It was an effective means of producing the tugging motion on her teats and encouraging milk production with the least amount of trauma to the cow. Stress could hold her milk supply for weeks.

  Cici shrie
ked her orgasm and collapsed onto the bench. When she opened her eyes, she saw Awi smiling down at her. It began to dawn on her that she had climaxed to Soquila’s touch.

  Cici had no idea what they were doing to her. They brought her back for a second session just at sunset. With her hands mitted, she could not remove the ring from her mouth; and with the ring in her mouth she could not chew off the mittens. It was frustrating, because she could not speak with Ganali and ask her what the hell was going on.

  Ganali edged closer to her at the trough. At first, Cici thought the woman was being friendly. It did not take long before Ganali was aggressively pushing her, and Cici realized she was trying to grab her portion of the food. Oh, hell no. Cici rammed her hip sideways, and their bottoms crashed as she pushed her away. Ganali might be larger, but Cici was still much stronger. Cici scooped frantically at the remaining gruel. Ganali had managed to down three fourths of it before Cici realized what she was doing.

  When the trough was empty, Cici knelt up and glared at the other girl. Gruel dripped down their chins while Cici stared at her with angry eyes. Ganali was embarrassed. Food and milking had been the only break to her days in the pen for weeks, and she forgot there even was another cow to share with. Tears leaked from her eyes and she whimpered miserable, mewling sobs.

  Oh, for god’s sakes. It’s not that big a deal. Cici shuffled forward and ran a mitted hand down Ganali’s wet cheek. She tried to smile, but with the ring gag it looked like a goofy grimace. Ganali’s eyes crinkled and she laughed.

  Awi and Soquila watched the entire exchange. “I don’t think you need to worry about tying Ganali,” he said.

  “It appears Waka will take care of herself at the trough,” Awi agreed.

  They watched the two girls crawl over to the patch of grass and curl up. The cows slept much closer together than they had the previous night.

  “How are things with Wacasa and Urika?” Awi asked.

  “I have not heard word of Wacasa, but Urika is doing well. Ahiga is most attentive,” Soquila chuckled.

  “You know?” Awi asked.

  “I caught the smell of sleeping juice when I was close to her. I was about to speak, but Chief Paytah shook his head and took me aside. This should be very interesting when she is released,” Soquila said. “How did you find out?”

  “With the spirit women working with Wacasa. Tala and I are checking for infection in the raven. Tala smelled the sleeping juice as well. She reported it to the shaman.”

  Soquila rolled his eyes. “If the women know, the whole tribe will learn by morning.”

  “And how many warriors have you told this secret to?” Awi countered.

  “Ahiga will have a good fight to win her,” Soquila smiled. None of the warriors would ever tell him that they knew the raven was to be his woman. Ahiga was a brave warrior, and he had taken journeys that made other men pale to protect the Wehali.

  His vicious nature and his need to spend time in solitude were due to the betrayal of a woman when they were young men. She was a member of a tribe to the south that Ahiga met while they had the summer rendezvous. He had become enamored with the girl, and on the second season she had professed her admiration for him. Over the weeklong celebration, she had kept his attention… while a warrior from her own tribe stole Ahiga’s prize stallion and weapons.

  The warrior stared Ahiga down from the back of the paint, and he held the bone knife with Ahiga’s winter carvings in the handle high over his head. The young woman swung up behind the brave and smiled coyly down at Ahiga. The Wehali warriors would have backed him in the fight, but Ahiga knew it would cause a fissure in the tribes. He stared up at the warrior, and said, “Keep them, and the woman. You will need the knife to slit her treacherous throat, and the horse to run from your tribe.”

  Ahiga never accompanied the Wehali to another rendezvous, and he spent winters apart from the tribe. Even in the summer village he spent most months hunting or sleeping in one of the low caves in the foothills. Yet, when a rogue cougar was threatening their mountain village, when blizzards blinded the winter home… it was Ahiga who hunted the dangerous cat or brought food that the tribe would find tossed by the fire. His heart had been frozen, but never his fierce loyalty for the Wehali. If the raven were to be the one who could thaw his lonely chill, his brothers would honor his need to fight for her.

  Kayla’s mouth was dry, and she could feel the caked blood on her lower lip. Her dazed eyes opened when she felt a finger slip around her lips. Warm oil eased the cracks. She looked into Ahiga’s face. “I have brought you drink, Wyonet.”

  Kayla nodded weakly. She no longer felt the pain of the piercing or the deflating tubes inside her. Ahiga held her head while she drank, and he ran a hand down her side to her thighs. “You are a runner,” he said with surprise. He saw her nod while she continued to swallow the juice.

  “I run, too. I like to run in the mountains and on the hills. It is quiet,” he whispered.

  The swelling in Kayla’s tongue had gone down a little, and she rasped, “I used to run every day. When I began as a child, I used to imagine I could outrun all the ugliness.”

  Ahiga stared into her blue eyes. It was as if she read his soul, for it was the exact reason he had begun to run. “Could you, Wyonet? Did you ever outrun the ugliness?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “No more than I can outrun this.”

  Ahiga placed his hand on her cheek, and she rubbed into his palm. “I don’t care if you tell them I tried to trick you,” she said. “Just please don’t leave me with all of this cruelty. I can’t bear it.”

  “I spent much time considering whether you were trying to seduce me. There were no times I could even let my imagination believe that you have done anything to deceive me. I will fight for you, Wyonet… but, if I ever find out that you have deceived me, that you have played me for a fool before my tribe… I will kill you.”

  Ahiga walked into the darkness, and Kayla watched until he was out of sight. “We’ll outrun the ugliness together, Ahiga.”

  Wacasa had awoken with her pussy and nipples swollen and aching for relief. Yepa and Namid applied a third dose of the potion and massaged it into her body while Leotie held her chin. She had begged her not to push the rods down her throat again, and promised that she would please Nashoba. Oh god, I wish he was here right now, her mind screamed.

  “You are quite a passionate woman,” Leotie chuckled. She untied the restraints to the collar and removed it. “My son will be pleased with you.”

  “He will, I promise. He scares me, and I don’t want him to hurt me, but I know I can’t go home from here and I have to learn to live with you,” Aubrey begged.

  “I am not convinced that you are ready,” Leotie said. She looked up at Yepa and Namid, and could not read their eyes. “If you do not do as he wishes, you will be brought back to the spirit women.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Aubrey whispered. “Oh, god, this stuff itches.”

  “Hold still, Wacasa, and they will remove the quills,” Leotie said.

  The quills in her breasts slid out easily, and Yepa massaged her peaked nipples. Aubrey pushed into her hands and sighed. “Oh, god. Oh, thank you.”

  Namid gave Leotie and Yepa a sadistic little grin. She began stroking Wacasa’s slit until the cream coated her pink folds. The woman pushed into her hand and moaned. Aubrey felt two fingers enter her channel and she gasped. She did not care that it was a woman, as long as she got relief. A finger tickled the bottom of her swollen clit and she felt her orgasm build. She shrieked in painful pleasure as the third quill was removed.

  The women kept her tied to the stakes and gathered their potions and instruments. They left Wacasa drifting on and off on the blanket by the fire, tied for Nashoba’s pleasure.

  Chapter VI

  Chief Paytah was sitting with his son in front of his teepee when the women came out from Nashoba’s tent. He raised an eyebrow and elbowed Nashoba. “That was quick. I was not looking fo
rward to another night of empty sleeping furs.”

  Nashoba watched the spirit women wander towards the shaman’s teepee. His mother sat next to Paytah and held his hand, raising it to her lips and kissing his knuckles. She smiled over at Nashoba. “Your woman is very tired, Nashoba. She will not understand the changes.”

  “But she is ready?” he asked anxiously.

  “She is.”

  Nashoba rose. “Tokala is dead.”

  “Yes, I know,” Leotie sighed. “Namid saw it in the herb leaves at the bottom of her tea this morning.”

  “But we did not find him until noon.”

  “The shaman is not the only member of our tribe with vision,” Leotie replied. Paytah could hear the weariness in her voice. She must have spent much time looking after Wacasa.

  Nashoba kept staring over to his teepee. Paytah saw his clenched fists by his sides, and he realized his son was nervous. He had never seen Nashoba uncertain, and he nudged Leotie.

  “Nashoba, she understands her life is with the tribe. She knows she will never leave the spirit world. You frighten her, but she accepts that she belongs to you.”

  “I don’t know that I want her to be afraid.” Nashoba had turned this over in his mind since he had seen her pride at the farm. He did not want to break her spirit. It felt wrong to do this.

  “She must fear you, Nashoba, and learn to respect your word. Wacasa does not know our world, and things that we take for granted can hurt her. You must teach her, but you must also let her know she cannot question you,” Leotie said.

  Nashoba continued to stare at his tent, but he nodded his head. “Your words are wise, mother.”

  “She’s quite beautiful, and you have been cursing all day at the wait. Go to her,” Paytah chuckled. He stood and held his hand down to help his wife rise, and they disappeared into their teepee.

  Nashoba walked slowly towards the tent. Part of him wanted to run inside and plunge into her; his cock was aching with need. Another part saw the pride in her soft green eyes turn to hatred for him. It made a sour feeling in his stomach. Finally, he pulled open the flap and walked in.