Post by Amanita Vernia on Mar 15, 2005 17:12:52 GMT -5
A Raid on the Taluna Camp, Andraste is taken
Andraste had been bound with her wrists behind her back, just as in her dreams, though by now the taluna should have known this was cold reality. Perhaps there was a bit of seer in her family, or simply a twist of fate, but that was not the only thing familiar about the situation she had found herself in since the day she had woken to find the camp infiltrated by warriors, men moving stealthily from cave to cave in the cliffs the talunas had made their temporary home. The man who had shoved her down and bound her in the dull glow of the morning light had been far too familiar. She had known that dark skin and towering frame from the dreams that visited her almost nightly since her first night of pleasure with Raika. The same broad, rough hands that she had felt caressing and coaxing pleasure from her in a dozen different scenarios had been the ones who had pinned her to the stone floor of her own lair and wrapped thick cords of leather around her wrist and throat, binding her beneath the black giant who had pinned her, and claimed her as his prize in the raid. She had only seen glimpses of his face since then, she and the other captured talunas having been bound together during the long daily marches and cold fireless nights that had followed, though he had visited her often enough in the dark jungle night to check her bounds, letting her flex and feeding her dinner beneath a watchful gaze. But it had not been until tonight that he had allowed her to see his face in the full light of the bonfire the men had built in the jungle glade. It was stern and angular, a face of broad planes and hard angles softened only by the curl of his dark lips and the glitter of his pale green eyes in ebon features that had shadow and light dancing over them in the glow of the fire. The other men were more fair-skinned, Kar-men perhaps, laughing and passing around canteens full of the local brew, save for those few who were keeping up the pattern of the drums. A few other girls, true slaves, moved among them or knelt next to their masters, slender, athletic woman who had the dark skin and dancing eyes of the local natives and who often spoke to each other in that tongue, grinning and laughing as they moved back and forth beyond the glow of the fire. One was just a few feet away from the man who had bound the blondes bound wrists and leashed throat to a simple wooden stake near his left knee, smiling softly to herself as her master combed through her hair with an ivory pick, murmuring occasionally to her. It was not time yet for the slave dances to begin, but the talunas still held in the slave pen just beyond the glow of the fire could be seen in the shine of their eyes and faces as they kept pacing to the edge of the bamboo pen, to stare at the dancing ring that had been established near the fire, dominated by a tall tree trimmed to serve as a tying post. The former slaves were starting to tremble a bit already, anticipation making their skin gleam just a little in the glow of the fire, while the ones born free simply paced nervously, like caged cats.
The raid happened so quickly, just before dawn, that none of the girls were prepared. The night scouts must of fallen asleep because the warning bell didn't sound to wake the camp, but not all of the band was taken. About twenty girls total, a third of the camp, were now captives to this pack of hunters. Andrasta was the only fair haired girl among them. A prize in the jungles perhaps, though to the men of lighter coloring who grew up in Port Kar or other cities where blondes were common, she wasn't as rare. To the man in her dreams however, it seemed he treated her special. Most of the other Taluna girls were raped the first night, forced to admit their passions and submit to their new masters. Many would be sold when they got closer to Schendi at trading posts, but for now they would serve these men, their Masters. The blonde was strung together with the others during the day while they moved, but the dark man had come to her enough times that she knew she was his, not communal property like the other girls. With the roaring fire finally shedding enough light on his face that she could see more than just dark lines, staked and bound to his left, naked, she was also trembling with a different kind of anticipation. The moons were ripe overhead, the drums sounded in celebration, but the taluna had no idea what the occasion was. She turned her eyes to watch the one with the pick, her own strands of dirty blond felt gritty against her cheek, days of sweat and dirt without stopping to wash caked over her body, but that was the least of her worries as she turned again to observe the features atop broad shoulders of the large man, darkness, save for the green of his eyes that jumped out from the rest of his face. She watched him eat from that spot, her hands bound behind her the same way they were in the dream, the leash hooked onto a collar and keeping her in place.
The drum beats were settling into a steadier rhythm now, a driving, pounding sound that stirred the blood and made the pacing talunas in their cage even more edgy. Andraste had seen many of them taken on a nightly basis, or at least heard the sounds- many of which had slowly turned into moans of pleasure as the nights had worn on. The slave girl being combed by her master caught the eyes of the blonde for a moment, dark cheeks flushing almost black in the firelight as she offered a half-smile before closing her eyes like a cat beneath the preening, balanced on hands pressed to the earth between her thighs. The girls who had been brought along with the slavers were personal slaves, deliberately shown to the feral taluna, to taunt them with memories of what they had been or could be. And as such they were well-treated. The coarser men and warriors had to content themselves with taking the feral slaves, breaking them into the art of the mat girls most of them would end up being sold as. The dark one was different, however. While the rest were being mounted at night, their cries echoing in the still jungle air, he had been making sure the blonde was fed and in good health, strong but gentle hands working the blood back into her limbs and muscles with few if any words exchanged besides simple commands in his growling voice. One of the camp girls slipped past the blonde to kneel next to him, her soft words lost in the general conversation and roar of the drums as she offered up a jug and a simple scrubbing stone to him before being dismissed. He glanced back over a broad shoulder at Andraste, green eyes glittering in the light of the fire and features all but unreadable. He shifted backwards, dark legging broken in and soundless as the giant settled behind her, a wall of masculine heat that carefully placed the jug of spring water and the porous stone next to her hip. In the dancing circle, one of the camp girls had begun to approach the tree-pillar, a bronzed, slender woman dressed in a simple slaves tabard. The mark of the thieves caste was black on brown beneath a dark eye, barely visible as she stalked around the pole in slow, rhythmic steps, long legs moving in a prowling, predatory dance while she cast glances at the watching men, dark and angry. Andrastes own tabard, a simple rence-cloth gray shift, was bound about her hips and neck with loops that the man who had claimed her undid with simple tugs. As the drums began to increase their tempo, and the thief-marked slave reached out a long arm to trace her fingertips against the pole, the cloth pooled around the thighs of the blonde. From behind he reached around her, bicep and brawny forearm brushing her bare side. He lifted the jug, still glistening with river water, one handed, jade eyes staring at the leashed frame of the taluna as he tipped it. A thin trickle of cool water splashed against the crown of her head, rivulets gliding over her scalp, trailing down her neck and over her face as the dancer suddenly recoiled away from the pole, frustration and fury seen in the movements of the long-limbed slave as she bared her teeth at the drummers- but she could not recoil past the invisible leash that bound her to the pylon, desire warring with fear in her fierce, jagged movements.
Andraste had been bound with her wrists behind her back, just as in her dreams, though by now the taluna should have known this was cold reality. Perhaps there was a bit of seer in her family, or simply a twist of fate, but that was not the only thing familiar about the situation she had found herself in since the day she had woken to find the camp infiltrated by warriors, men moving stealthily from cave to cave in the cliffs the talunas had made their temporary home. The man who had shoved her down and bound her in the dull glow of the morning light had been far too familiar. She had known that dark skin and towering frame from the dreams that visited her almost nightly since her first night of pleasure with Raika. The same broad, rough hands that she had felt caressing and coaxing pleasure from her in a dozen different scenarios had been the ones who had pinned her to the stone floor of her own lair and wrapped thick cords of leather around her wrist and throat, binding her beneath the black giant who had pinned her, and claimed her as his prize in the raid. She had only seen glimpses of his face since then, she and the other captured talunas having been bound together during the long daily marches and cold fireless nights that had followed, though he had visited her often enough in the dark jungle night to check her bounds, letting her flex and feeding her dinner beneath a watchful gaze. But it had not been until tonight that he had allowed her to see his face in the full light of the bonfire the men had built in the jungle glade. It was stern and angular, a face of broad planes and hard angles softened only by the curl of his dark lips and the glitter of his pale green eyes in ebon features that had shadow and light dancing over them in the glow of the fire. The other men were more fair-skinned, Kar-men perhaps, laughing and passing around canteens full of the local brew, save for those few who were keeping up the pattern of the drums. A few other girls, true slaves, moved among them or knelt next to their masters, slender, athletic woman who had the dark skin and dancing eyes of the local natives and who often spoke to each other in that tongue, grinning and laughing as they moved back and forth beyond the glow of the fire. One was just a few feet away from the man who had bound the blondes bound wrists and leashed throat to a simple wooden stake near his left knee, smiling softly to herself as her master combed through her hair with an ivory pick, murmuring occasionally to her. It was not time yet for the slave dances to begin, but the talunas still held in the slave pen just beyond the glow of the fire could be seen in the shine of their eyes and faces as they kept pacing to the edge of the bamboo pen, to stare at the dancing ring that had been established near the fire, dominated by a tall tree trimmed to serve as a tying post. The former slaves were starting to tremble a bit already, anticipation making their skin gleam just a little in the glow of the fire, while the ones born free simply paced nervously, like caged cats.
The raid happened so quickly, just before dawn, that none of the girls were prepared. The night scouts must of fallen asleep because the warning bell didn't sound to wake the camp, but not all of the band was taken. About twenty girls total, a third of the camp, were now captives to this pack of hunters. Andrasta was the only fair haired girl among them. A prize in the jungles perhaps, though to the men of lighter coloring who grew up in Port Kar or other cities where blondes were common, she wasn't as rare. To the man in her dreams however, it seemed he treated her special. Most of the other Taluna girls were raped the first night, forced to admit their passions and submit to their new masters. Many would be sold when they got closer to Schendi at trading posts, but for now they would serve these men, their Masters. The blonde was strung together with the others during the day while they moved, but the dark man had come to her enough times that she knew she was his, not communal property like the other girls. With the roaring fire finally shedding enough light on his face that she could see more than just dark lines, staked and bound to his left, naked, she was also trembling with a different kind of anticipation. The moons were ripe overhead, the drums sounded in celebration, but the taluna had no idea what the occasion was. She turned her eyes to watch the one with the pick, her own strands of dirty blond felt gritty against her cheek, days of sweat and dirt without stopping to wash caked over her body, but that was the least of her worries as she turned again to observe the features atop broad shoulders of the large man, darkness, save for the green of his eyes that jumped out from the rest of his face. She watched him eat from that spot, her hands bound behind her the same way they were in the dream, the leash hooked onto a collar and keeping her in place.
The drum beats were settling into a steadier rhythm now, a driving, pounding sound that stirred the blood and made the pacing talunas in their cage even more edgy. Andraste had seen many of them taken on a nightly basis, or at least heard the sounds- many of which had slowly turned into moans of pleasure as the nights had worn on. The slave girl being combed by her master caught the eyes of the blonde for a moment, dark cheeks flushing almost black in the firelight as she offered a half-smile before closing her eyes like a cat beneath the preening, balanced on hands pressed to the earth between her thighs. The girls who had been brought along with the slavers were personal slaves, deliberately shown to the feral taluna, to taunt them with memories of what they had been or could be. And as such they were well-treated. The coarser men and warriors had to content themselves with taking the feral slaves, breaking them into the art of the mat girls most of them would end up being sold as. The dark one was different, however. While the rest were being mounted at night, their cries echoing in the still jungle air, he had been making sure the blonde was fed and in good health, strong but gentle hands working the blood back into her limbs and muscles with few if any words exchanged besides simple commands in his growling voice. One of the camp girls slipped past the blonde to kneel next to him, her soft words lost in the general conversation and roar of the drums as she offered up a jug and a simple scrubbing stone to him before being dismissed. He glanced back over a broad shoulder at Andraste, green eyes glittering in the light of the fire and features all but unreadable. He shifted backwards, dark legging broken in and soundless as the giant settled behind her, a wall of masculine heat that carefully placed the jug of spring water and the porous stone next to her hip. In the dancing circle, one of the camp girls had begun to approach the tree-pillar, a bronzed, slender woman dressed in a simple slaves tabard. The mark of the thieves caste was black on brown beneath a dark eye, barely visible as she stalked around the pole in slow, rhythmic steps, long legs moving in a prowling, predatory dance while she cast glances at the watching men, dark and angry. Andrastes own tabard, a simple rence-cloth gray shift, was bound about her hips and neck with loops that the man who had claimed her undid with simple tugs. As the drums began to increase their tempo, and the thief-marked slave reached out a long arm to trace her fingertips against the pole, the cloth pooled around the thighs of the blonde. From behind he reached around her, bicep and brawny forearm brushing her bare side. He lifted the jug, still glistening with river water, one handed, jade eyes staring at the leashed frame of the taluna as he tipped it. A thin trickle of cool water splashed against the crown of her head, rivulets gliding over her scalp, trailing down her neck and over her face as the dancer suddenly recoiled away from the pole, frustration and fury seen in the movements of the long-limbed slave as she bared her teeth at the drummers- but she could not recoil past the invisible leash that bound her to the pylon, desire warring with fear in her fierce, jagged movements.
