3° PART
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Kaira stepped back, allowing the sisters to completely surround the kneeling slave. His muscular body glistened with sweat, his chest heaved, and his gray eyes darted from one naked panther to the next, unable to decide where to rest their gaze: Kaira's full, charcoal-striped chest, the bronze thighs of Lyra, who had just arrived with the main force, or Sheila herself, whose appearance had silenced the forest.
Sheila stepped forward slowly, her naked body moving with the regal grace of a leading predator. Her green eyes dug into the slave like claws, and her long black hair, entwined with bone beads, swayed as she bowed her head. She didn't say a word—she merely ran her fingertips over his cheek, then down his neck, where the collar's stripe still glowed red, and down his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
The slave shuddered but didn't retreat: that same Gorean flame was already flickering in his gaze—a mixture of fear of power and the desire to submit to it.
Lyra, standing to the right, growled softly, her amber eyes blazing. The crescent-shaped scar on her chest rose and fell with her breathing, and her hand settled on the slave's thigh, squeezing the muscle with possessive force. "He is strong, my leader," she purred hoarsely. "He will serve well."
Kaira, not taking her dark eyes off her prey, added, "And he already knows the taste of chains. Ours will be sweeter."
Sheila finally spoke, her voice low and deep, like a panther's growl in the night. "You fled from your master, male. Now you are ours. Tell me your name while you can still speak freely."
The slave raised his head, meeting her gaze.
"Thorval," he breathed, his voice rough from long silence. "I... Thorval."
Sheila smiled—slowly, dangerously, revealing white teeth. She nodded to Kaira. She instantly snatched a thin rope and, stepping around the slave, wrapped it around his neck—not tightly, but enough for him to feel the new mark. Kaira handed the end of the vine to Sheila.
The leader wrapped it around her arm, pulling Thorval closer until his face was against her hips.
"Thorval," Sheila repeated, savoring the name. "You are now the property of the panthers." You will carry our water, get our food, warm our bodies at night. And if you obey*—she leaned down, her lips almost touching his ear—*we will let you taste what males are willing to give their lives for.*
A muffled cry was heard in the distance, and the first of the caravan finally noticed the lack of a path ahead and the ring of naked shadows around them. But this was a different hunt.
Sheila straightened, tugging at the leash. Torval rose to his feet, guided by her hand. The tribe closed around him... naked bodies, heated glances, the scent of wild women that would make any male dizzy.
*Lead him to a new clearing, sisters,* Sheila ordered. *Today we celebrate two kills. The caravan will wait until sunset. And this one...*she tugged the vine again, forcing Thorval to step closer, *will begin serving right now.*
The jungle filled with the quiet, contented growls of panthers.
Under the scorching rays of the sun breaking through the dense forest canopy, Sheila's panther tribe moved toward a new clearing—a hidden ravine at the foot of the cliffs, where a silvery stream whispered coolness and soft grass beckoned naked bodies to rest. Thorval walked behind, led by the vine-like leash in Sheila's strong hand; his muscular legs stepped heavily but obediently, and his back, covered with old scars, glistened with sweat. Every time he slowed slightly, Sheila tugged the vine, forcing him to feel who was now the master of his fate. Lyra walked to his left, her bronze skin gleaming with gold, her amber eyes fixed on the slave's powerful shoulders. Her fingers occasionally slid over his thigh—a light but commanding touch, a reminder that he was no longer free. Kaira brought up the rear, her dark eyes blazing with satisfaction; the knife on her hip swayed in time with her steps, and the charcoal stripes on her chest and stomach accentuated every movement of her lithe body.
When the tribe emerged into a clearing, Sheila stopped. Tall grass reached their hips, a stream babbled a few steps away, and ancient trees towered around them—the perfect spot for a new camp. The leader tugged harder on the vine, forcing Thorval to his knees in the middle of the clearing.
"Here you will prove your worth, Thorval," Sheila said in a low, velvety voice that clanked with steel. She let go of the vine, but Kaira instantly grabbed the end, holding the slave in a submissive pose.
Lyra came closer, her full chest with the crescent-shaped scar heaving with a deep breath. She leaned down, grabbing Torval by the hair and forcing his head up. *First, water for the sisters,* she purred. *Then, fire. And then...* her lips curved into a predatory smile, *we will decide if you are worthy of more.*
The remaining wildlings scattered across the clearing: some were gathering dry branches, others were weaving new snares from the vines, still others were already plunging their naked bodies into the cool stream, laughing low, guttural laughter. But they all kept glancing at the kneeling slave—their new toy, their new power.
Sheila sat down on a flat boulder, her hands scraping against each other.and long, muscular legs. Green eyes followed Thorval's every movement when Kaira finally allowed him to stand and pointed to the jars of dried gourds.
"Work, male," Kaira said, running the tip of her knife down his back, leaving a light scratch. "And remember: in our tribe, obedience is rewarded... with passion."
Thorval nodded silently and walked toward the stream, feeling the heated gaze of dozens of naked panthers on him. The jungle around him froze in anticipation of the evening—when the caravan on the trail would become the second prey, and this slave would truly taste Gorean freedom for the first time... in the chains of wild women.
BY KATISHA
darian-editor
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
No comments:
Post a Comment