Unfinished, spurofthemoment stuff, not sure if posts stay after an account is gone but seemed like a waste to see them go.
Dradt5
They were coming.
Scara paused, her nose an inch from the drinking-pond, and blinked slowly at her reflection beneath. A blue frog hopped on a lilypad, rotated its bulbous yellow eyes, and then hopped away, leaving ripples in the pond. Dart frogs were an omen, as Elder Kan would have said. That, and the scent of man was in the wind.
Scara cocked her head. Smelling the air. Opening her ears.
A normal hunter wouldn't have noticed it. Not in the hot open sky and the buzzing of unseen insects. Not in the still vines and chuckling river. But Scara was no ordinary hunter. She was the best in her tribe, daughter of the Panther, the one blessed by Elder council. She was loved by the rainforest and it lent her favours.
Fast as a serpent, she dove up a tree, her fingers and toes finding grooves on their own. Above the green canopy she saw it.
Smoke.
Scara growled, "fucking westerners." Her fingers closed on her bow. "For once they ought to stay in their fucking villages. Keep their civilization where it's wanted and not where it ain't."
But she needed to warn the others. To gather the warriors in full. To hide the children. The hunter brought her two fingers to her mouth as she slid down and emitted a high, cutting sound.
A second later, Ama appeared out of the trees as if by magic, her eyes watching Scara quietly. Scara swung her leg over the massive tiger and wrapped her fingers in its thick fur. She tightened her thighs and the tiger snarled, bursting into motion. The trees blurred past her.
"The invaders," Scara hissed when she got back. "They've come early. To the west."
Four women washing their pelts knee deep in the frothing river froze, their jokes dying away. One - Mother Albeck - dropped the tunic in her hand and made the hand sign for warding off evil. "We will spread the news. Go Hunter Scara. You must ride to the Elders."
Scara returned the hand sign. "Be swift."
The Elders and Children and Teachers lived in a giant remote hut on a hill away from the main tribe. Scara drew Ama to a panting stop and yelled as a hand suddenly grabbed her neck and shoved her on the ground. Ama roared but then another roar filled the air, deeper and harsher than her tiger's. Scara was kissing the dry earth and she grunted as she felt a foot press on her back and cold metal her cheek.
"Look what the cat dragged in," snarled Jocasta's cruel voice.
Scara let out an inward groan. "I don't have time for this, Jocasta."
Thud. Pain blossomed across Scara's skull and she saw stars. "That's Warrior Jocasta to you, Hunter. And you ain't got business on this hill unless you've turned a child again."
"Jocasta you -" another blast of pain. Scara ground her jaw. "Jo-" another, in the other direction. The Hunter gasped at the pain and then glared up at the Warrior's grinning fucking face and spat, "Jocasta you dumb shit the westerners are coming!"
"What?"
Scara took this opportunity to shove her childhood rival off and hook her leg under her knee and in a quick exchange of grapples, reversed their positions and the spiky haired Warrior grunted as Scara pinned her neck down. "I said the fucking westerners are in our jungle again. That clear enough for you?"
"Shit!"
"What's going on here?" Elder Ma lifted the bead curtain of the hut and stared at them.
"This bitch-," both of them said at once, then glared at each other.
"Enough," the rest of the Elders appeared as well as twelve Warriors, all stern faced and tattooed like Jocasta. Scara was shocked to see that none of them bore the Sun mark. Glancing sideways she noticed for the first time, the Warriors' final symbol the neck currently trapped under her arms. Had slimy Jo actually been promoted?
"What did you see Hunter Scara? Why are you back?"
"The westerners are here. They bring metal and fire."
Faces paled at this. Elder Kan raised his hand. "We must act immediately. We must -" And then his hand exploded in a mist of pink and red.
The Elder's face looked mildly surprised and someone else screamed. Scara howled "NO!" Jocasta whipped out her sword and snarled, her Sabretooth removing its jaws from Ama's throat and joining her. Several men were bursting out of the jungle, long metal tubes in their hands. The tubes spat fangs of light and suddenly everyone was in screams.
Scara nocked an arrow without thinking and shot a westerner in the neck. Someone fired and Elder Ma next to her whipped her head back and crumpled. More shots obliterated the hut, straw and dust exploding. Scara screamed, mind blank and throat hoarse, letting fly as many arrows as she could.
But men poured from the trees, fully dressed and all carrying their strange weapons. Bastards! Scara watched in a mixture of horror and rage as their tribes best Warriors were cut down from a distance, dying from invisible fangs.
Scara's hand brushed her bare shoulder and she knew she'd run out of arrows. No, no, no. She dove to her left, just as the ground exploded near her. Two men were aiming their weapons at her, spitting light from their muzzles. No, no, no. She rolled, then floundered, scrabbling backwards as people fell and died. A warrior with two axes and half his face a bloody ruin made a pitiful run at the invaders only to be cut down redly not even a quarter way through. An Elder was crying, on his knees. The hut was burning. Where were the children?
"Die Bastards!" Jocasta howled as she threw her axe, cleaving a mans skull. Her spiky hair was plastered to her scalp, golden eyes ablaze.
A shod foot nudged Scara from behind. An invaded, checking to see if she was dead. Without thinking, the hunters body moved on its own, twisting upwards like a viper, her hands catching the mans head and her elbows enveloping it. She jerked her body in one brutal motion and felt the mans neck snap. His companion, an inch away, cocked his weapon. Scara pivoted, and smashed her left foot in his face. As he stumbled, she pounced on him, trapping his body on hers so his weapon was useless and sank her teeth in his neck. Blood spurted, drenched them both.
"Crazy savage!" Yelled another man, voice high with fear. Scara leaped at him only to have something clip her shoulder and break her leap, sent her spinning to the earth. Hot, wet pain leaked from her shoulder.
"Not like this," Scara muttered, watching the massacre.
The children were dragged out from the hut in nets, crying and howling. Scara watched them, barely alive herself, as each one was inspected by a westerner and then a metal collar was fitted over their neck. They were milled together and then marched through puddles of their peoples blood.
"Not like this..." Scara tried to pull herself up. Her golden hair fell over her face. She felt the dirt under her toes as she floundered her legs. "Damn it all."
The westerners parted to allow a fat, pale man wearing funny clothes different from the rest to walk in. To Scaras disgust, he was wearing their tribes rubies on his fat fingers. He was whistling, and when he turned Scara saw he had the biggest grin she'd ever seen.
"Quite the haul," he barked in the common tongue. He grabbed a girls face and observed. "My goodness but the Jungle people are beautiful. These will do quite nicely."
"And the others in the village?" Asked one of the men with weapons.
"Ill buy them too. The women. Us men of the Unity love this blonde hair, tanned skin and golden eyes look. Give them a few months and they'll be properly trained. Takes longer than kids but still." The strange fat man spun on one heel, taking in the view. "Shame you killed some of them."
"Some of their women can fight."
"Barbaric. Barbaric I say!" The man tutted. "A loss of investment in any society I say for honest women to partake in bloodshed. Why, just another reminder why these heathens require our generous lessons."
"BASTARDS! ILL KILL YOU!" Jocasta was screaming and kicking inside a wire net, her face bloody and hands bloody and face full of murder. "LET ME OUT OF HERE AND ILL RIP YOU APART!"
"What is that noise?" The man frowned. "I see you caught one. A uh warrior I believe?"
The man nodded. "The Warriors' chief according to her tattoos."
"Fascinating!" The fat man inched closer. "I suppose ill buy her too. I'm sure there's some lord willing to study her."
"Bitch cost me ten of my men. I was thinking wed keep her for ourselves."
The fat man straightened, a dangerous gleam now in his jolly eye. "I said I'd buy her," he repeated.
Scara moaned and dragged herself away. She had to run. To rescue the others. The images of Elder Kan bleeding to death swam in her vision. Her breathing was hot and chaotic. Hot tears stung her eyes. Those monsters!
The jungle floor raced under her bare feet. Shed make them pay. Shed kill them all. Scara leaped silently from one swaying tree to the next. Shed make things right. She had to.
The jungle ended at a cliff over a roaring water all. Scara had dangled her bare legs over it before but that'd been the closest she's ever gone to leaving it. Now the jungle was being torn up. Smoky towers of oblivion rising like demons over the trees. Yellow metal monsters eating up the trees, felling them. Her people in nets. Scara ignored the spike of fear in her heart and toed the cliff, looked down at the roaring water.
She jumped.
The tanned girl angled her body perfectly, extended her long legs, tucking her chin and cut into the river below like a spearhead. Sound vanished as her head entered the frigid water and Scara kicked her legs. She went with the current, one with the fish and eels.
She resurfaced to see a large hut made of stone. Two westerners both froze, shocked to see her. Scara cursed her luck and charged, but she was fatigued and wet and tired and not as fast as she should have been. Just as she had leaped onto one westerner the second one whipped out one of those long tubes. "Stop!"
Scara hissed but backed away. Her eyes darted to both of them. Another westerner appeared from out the hut, a young man barely older than she was. He stopped cold when he saw her.
The other westerner shot a net at her and Scara yelped as the weights bore the net into her skin, forcing her into the earth, tangling her legs and arms. "Aargh!"
"Close one Sarge," said the scared looking one. "You alright?"
"Shit ill live." His grimace turned into a frown." Looks like we caught ourselves something after all."
"That's a..."
"A single person. Yessir. As deadly as they are alluring. Ten times stronger than a regular man and tens times as savage."
Scara tore at the net, snarling, kicking and clawing to no avail. "I'll show you savage!" She screamed. "Ill kill you for what you've done! Monsters! Defjler! Killer of children!"
"It speaks" said the young westerner, amazed. "Does it understand us?"
The man poked her with his weapon. "No one can be sure. It's possible it's just repeating phrases it heard from other men."
"What do we do?"
"Let's clean up her shoulder and then get her some proper clothes."
Scara was dragged, kicking and howling, into the hut. Whatever they were going to do to her, she wasn't going to make it easy. The two men had hooked metal poles to her net, dragging her without actually coming into proximity. Inside the hut, it took ten men to restrain her to a pole where she was tied up. The girl struggled bitterly while throwing insults and threats as another man wrapped some wet cloth over her shoulder. The pain went away instantly.
"Do you plan on selling her?" Asked the doctor.
"Not sure yet, we haven't told the merchant Ghorka about her."
"That snake? I'd recommend selling premium flesh like this in the city yourself."
"We'll see." A sigh. "Lets just keep her alive for now"
"Let me get her measurements." A hand graced Scara's bare bicep, trailing down to squeeze her hip. The Hunter jerked back, snarling at the doctor. "Ill be done in an hour." He stared into her golden, almond-shaped eyes. "Two tops."
"NO" the soldier sighed. "Don't touch her anymore. Just get her some food and go to bed."
The doctor turned around, looking like a sullen child. "You expect me to offer my medical expertise under the table and not let me have a little fun?" His hand, while he talked, casually found its way around Scara's breast under her wolf pelt. She snarled at the sudden touch, her body squirming. The fingers were hard and cruel, squeezing her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Scara contorted her face to a silent grimace as she suffered his touch.
"No means no doctor." The soldier sighed. "You know what, if it'll shut you up, fine. Thirty minutes. But then i want you gone. And not a single peep to the rest of the army."
"Good man." The doctor shoved his bearded face into Scara's. "Hear that beautiful? You get an opportunity of a lifetime. Education from a civilized man. Be fucking grateful." Both hands were playing with her nipples now. Scara's hands were bound over her head, at the top of the pool, stretching her body thereby, her toes brushing the floor. She was gagged and her ankles tied to a spike wedged in the dirt. In other words fucking helpless, Scara thought, rage boiling in her heart. She glared a murderous look at the doctor. Ill kill you.
"Yeah you like that don't you?" He whispered, raking his hands under her tunic on her bare hot skin. Scara twisted her body, recoiling from his touch. His fingers prodded at her sensitive skin, making her jump with each poke. "Mmmmghhhhh!" She snarled into her gag, wishing his face was closer and her hands more free.
"You're slim body is so hot. I can't tell you, I've tested so many Jungle people before and I never get sick of it." He drew his hands up again, so they now poked out of her sleeves and scribbled on her exposed armpits. "And I can already tell you've got the perfect physique for a tickle toy." He smiled, clearly enjoying her reactions. "Oh my goodness so sensitive."
Scara strained to break her bonds, a vein popping on her neck. She hated his fingers under her arms, teasing them. They were a warriors weakness, made sensitive so that Scara could be warned if any claw or fang made contact. This, this was different though. The sheer tease of contact, the fleeting glimpses of touch, sending her instinct-wired body on its fucking edge in every single manner.
The doctor drew circles in Scara's armpits making the savage stamp her foot in frustration. Saliva dribbled from the gag, down her chin. Then he upturned his hands and scratched them up her underarms like little spiders. The ropes dreamed as Scara pulled on them. He lifted her tunic up slightly and enveloped her nipple in his mouth while still scribbling his fingers along her taut stomach. Scara gasped into the gag, anger and indignation flashing in her eyes. She tried to dive away but it was impossible. Moaning in frustration she tilted her head up so she wouldn't have to see this bastard pleasuring her and simply took it. She stood there for five minutes, twitching from each poke on her flanks, shaking as the doctor worked his mouth, his hot wet tongue pressing hard on her nipple.
"Uuufgghhhh..." was all she could manage.
"Oh that was great." The doctor straightened, and brushed some hair out of Scara's face. "Let me see that gorgeous face of yours while I do this."
Not one for asymmetry he did the same to her other breast. Then his hands began massaging and plowing her breasts, the callousness of such shocking Scara despite herself. They squeezed and kneaded their pillowy mass, making Scara kick and squirm uselessly against the pole, tilting her head in a helpless moan. Her gag was wet and her face hot with humiliation.
Was this her fate? To become some toy to a scrawny old man? To faceless men who'd taken her home? Scara yanked harder and harder on her restraints but she felt a sliver of hopelessness and even dispair. The doctor finished, her nipples erect and rock hard.
He then pulled up a chair and took his jacket off. "Hot in here," he said. He squeezed her legs as well, making them dance a bit. "Ahh that's better."
Scara was breathing hard. She was trying to get her thoughts in order. How to escape. How to kill this bastard. How to-
His finger stroked her bare foot and Scara leaped back like a tiger cub whose tail had been stepped on. She snarled into the gag, straining her foot away.
"What a ticklish kitty I've found," laughed the doctor. "Tickle tickle little kitty."
He scribbled his nails on her dirty soles and then drew figure eights on them and then raked his fingers up and down which for Scara was the worst. He played with her toes which were long and dexterious and dipped his nails under tjdm, taunting the soft ingress skin under her toes and the webbing between them. She laughed and howled and cried and her muffled threats only got angrier and more hateful.
"Soft feet for a barbarian," said the doctor, exploring her arches. "Size nine with high arches and wonderful form."
He leaned down and popped her last two digits in his mouth. Scara screamed. His other hand began scribbling with mad abandon under her other foot. Scara tossed her hand back and forth, howling like a madman. Snot flew from her nose.
"Ah," said the doctor, a string of saliva from his lip to her last toe. "Tasty as well. Very nice."
"Ankles...2 inches. Calves 7 inches. Good proportions."
He ran his fingers under her sole, poking her toes. "Good balance I see."
"Nice slim thighs, and well formed hips." Each body part was rewarded with a touch."
Dradt5
They were coming.
Scara paused, her nose an inch from the drinking-pond, and blinked slowly at her reflection beneath. A blue frog hopped on a lilypad, rotated its bulbous yellow eyes, and then hopped away, leaving ripples in the pond. Dart frogs were an omen, as Elder Kan would have said. That, and the scent of man was in the wind.
Scara cocked her head. Smelling the air. Opening her ears.
A normal hunter wouldn't have noticed it. Not in the hot open sky and the buzzing of unseen insects. Not in the still vines and chuckling river. But Scara was no ordinary hunter. She was the best in her tribe, daughter of the Panther, the one blessed by Elder council. She was loved by the rainforest and it lent her favours.
Fast as a serpent, she dove up a tree, her fingers and toes finding grooves on their own. Above the green canopy she saw it.
Smoke.
Scara growled, "fucking westerners." Her fingers closed on her bow. "For once they ought to stay in their fucking villages. Keep their civilization where it's wanted and not where it ain't."
But she needed to warn the others. To gather the warriors in full. To hide the children. The hunter brought her two fingers to her mouth as she slid down and emitted a high, cutting sound.
A second later, Ama appeared out of the trees as if by magic, her eyes watching Scara quietly. Scara swung her leg over the massive tiger and wrapped her fingers in its thick fur. She tightened her thighs and the tiger snarled, bursting into motion. The trees blurred past her.
"The invaders," Scara hissed when she got back. "They've come early. To the west."
Four women washing their pelts knee deep in the frothing river froze, their jokes dying away. One - Mother Albeck - dropped the tunic in her hand and made the hand sign for warding off evil. "We will spread the news. Go Hunter Scara. You must ride to the Elders."
Scara returned the hand sign. "Be swift."
The Elders and Children and Teachers lived in a giant remote hut on a hill away from the main tribe. Scara drew Ama to a panting stop and yelled as a hand suddenly grabbed her neck and shoved her on the ground. Ama roared but then another roar filled the air, deeper and harsher than her tiger's. Scara was kissing the dry earth and she grunted as she felt a foot press on her back and cold metal her cheek.
"Look what the cat dragged in," snarled Jocasta's cruel voice.
Scara let out an inward groan. "I don't have time for this, Jocasta."
Thud. Pain blossomed across Scara's skull and she saw stars. "That's Warrior Jocasta to you, Hunter. And you ain't got business on this hill unless you've turned a child again."
"Jocasta you -" another blast of pain. Scara ground her jaw. "Jo-" another, in the other direction. The Hunter gasped at the pain and then glared up at the Warrior's grinning fucking face and spat, "Jocasta you dumb shit the westerners are coming!"
"What?"
Scara took this opportunity to shove her childhood rival off and hook her leg under her knee and in a quick exchange of grapples, reversed their positions and the spiky haired Warrior grunted as Scara pinned her neck down. "I said the fucking westerners are in our jungle again. That clear enough for you?"
"Shit!"
"What's going on here?" Elder Ma lifted the bead curtain of the hut and stared at them.
"This bitch-," both of them said at once, then glared at each other.
"Enough," the rest of the Elders appeared as well as twelve Warriors, all stern faced and tattooed like Jocasta. Scara was shocked to see that none of them bore the Sun mark. Glancing sideways she noticed for the first time, the Warriors' final symbol the neck currently trapped under her arms. Had slimy Jo actually been promoted?
"What did you see Hunter Scara? Why are you back?"
"The westerners are here. They bring metal and fire."
Faces paled at this. Elder Kan raised his hand. "We must act immediately. We must -" And then his hand exploded in a mist of pink and red.
The Elder's face looked mildly surprised and someone else screamed. Scara howled "NO!" Jocasta whipped out her sword and snarled, her Sabretooth removing its jaws from Ama's throat and joining her. Several men were bursting out of the jungle, long metal tubes in their hands. The tubes spat fangs of light and suddenly everyone was in screams.
Scara nocked an arrow without thinking and shot a westerner in the neck. Someone fired and Elder Ma next to her whipped her head back and crumpled. More shots obliterated the hut, straw and dust exploding. Scara screamed, mind blank and throat hoarse, letting fly as many arrows as she could.
But men poured from the trees, fully dressed and all carrying their strange weapons. Bastards! Scara watched in a mixture of horror and rage as their tribes best Warriors were cut down from a distance, dying from invisible fangs.
Scara's hand brushed her bare shoulder and she knew she'd run out of arrows. No, no, no. She dove to her left, just as the ground exploded near her. Two men were aiming their weapons at her, spitting light from their muzzles. No, no, no. She rolled, then floundered, scrabbling backwards as people fell and died. A warrior with two axes and half his face a bloody ruin made a pitiful run at the invaders only to be cut down redly not even a quarter way through. An Elder was crying, on his knees. The hut was burning. Where were the children?
"Die Bastards!" Jocasta howled as she threw her axe, cleaving a mans skull. Her spiky hair was plastered to her scalp, golden eyes ablaze.
A shod foot nudged Scara from behind. An invaded, checking to see if she was dead. Without thinking, the hunters body moved on its own, twisting upwards like a viper, her hands catching the mans head and her elbows enveloping it. She jerked her body in one brutal motion and felt the mans neck snap. His companion, an inch away, cocked his weapon. Scara pivoted, and smashed her left foot in his face. As he stumbled, she pounced on him, trapping his body on hers so his weapon was useless and sank her teeth in his neck. Blood spurted, drenched them both.
"Crazy savage!" Yelled another man, voice high with fear. Scara leaped at him only to have something clip her shoulder and break her leap, sent her spinning to the earth. Hot, wet pain leaked from her shoulder.
"Not like this," Scara muttered, watching the massacre.
The children were dragged out from the hut in nets, crying and howling. Scara watched them, barely alive herself, as each one was inspected by a westerner and then a metal collar was fitted over their neck. They were milled together and then marched through puddles of their peoples blood.
"Not like this..." Scara tried to pull herself up. Her golden hair fell over her face. She felt the dirt under her toes as she floundered her legs. "Damn it all."
The westerners parted to allow a fat, pale man wearing funny clothes different from the rest to walk in. To Scaras disgust, he was wearing their tribes rubies on his fat fingers. He was whistling, and when he turned Scara saw he had the biggest grin she'd ever seen.
"Quite the haul," he barked in the common tongue. He grabbed a girls face and observed. "My goodness but the Jungle people are beautiful. These will do quite nicely."
"And the others in the village?" Asked one of the men with weapons.
"Ill buy them too. The women. Us men of the Unity love this blonde hair, tanned skin and golden eyes look. Give them a few months and they'll be properly trained. Takes longer than kids but still." The strange fat man spun on one heel, taking in the view. "Shame you killed some of them."
"Some of their women can fight."
"Barbaric. Barbaric I say!" The man tutted. "A loss of investment in any society I say for honest women to partake in bloodshed. Why, just another reminder why these heathens require our generous lessons."
"BASTARDS! ILL KILL YOU!" Jocasta was screaming and kicking inside a wire net, her face bloody and hands bloody and face full of murder. "LET ME OUT OF HERE AND ILL RIP YOU APART!"
"What is that noise?" The man frowned. "I see you caught one. A uh warrior I believe?"
The man nodded. "The Warriors' chief according to her tattoos."
"Fascinating!" The fat man inched closer. "I suppose ill buy her too. I'm sure there's some lord willing to study her."
"Bitch cost me ten of my men. I was thinking wed keep her for ourselves."
The fat man straightened, a dangerous gleam now in his jolly eye. "I said I'd buy her," he repeated.
Scara moaned and dragged herself away. She had to run. To rescue the others. The images of Elder Kan bleeding to death swam in her vision. Her breathing was hot and chaotic. Hot tears stung her eyes. Those monsters!
The jungle floor raced under her bare feet. Shed make them pay. Shed kill them all. Scara leaped silently from one swaying tree to the next. Shed make things right. She had to.
The jungle ended at a cliff over a roaring water all. Scara had dangled her bare legs over it before but that'd been the closest she's ever gone to leaving it. Now the jungle was being torn up. Smoky towers of oblivion rising like demons over the trees. Yellow metal monsters eating up the trees, felling them. Her people in nets. Scara ignored the spike of fear in her heart and toed the cliff, looked down at the roaring water.
She jumped.
The tanned girl angled her body perfectly, extended her long legs, tucking her chin and cut into the river below like a spearhead. Sound vanished as her head entered the frigid water and Scara kicked her legs. She went with the current, one with the fish and eels.
She resurfaced to see a large hut made of stone. Two westerners both froze, shocked to see her. Scara cursed her luck and charged, but she was fatigued and wet and tired and not as fast as she should have been. Just as she had leaped onto one westerner the second one whipped out one of those long tubes. "Stop!"
Scara hissed but backed away. Her eyes darted to both of them. Another westerner appeared from out the hut, a young man barely older than she was. He stopped cold when he saw her.
The other westerner shot a net at her and Scara yelped as the weights bore the net into her skin, forcing her into the earth, tangling her legs and arms. "Aargh!"
"Close one Sarge," said the scared looking one. "You alright?"
"Shit ill live." His grimace turned into a frown." Looks like we caught ourselves something after all."
"That's a..."
"A single person. Yessir. As deadly as they are alluring. Ten times stronger than a regular man and tens times as savage."
Scara tore at the net, snarling, kicking and clawing to no avail. "I'll show you savage!" She screamed. "Ill kill you for what you've done! Monsters! Defjler! Killer of children!"
"It speaks" said the young westerner, amazed. "Does it understand us?"
The man poked her with his weapon. "No one can be sure. It's possible it's just repeating phrases it heard from other men."
"What do we do?"
"Let's clean up her shoulder and then get her some proper clothes."
Scara was dragged, kicking and howling, into the hut. Whatever they were going to do to her, she wasn't going to make it easy. The two men had hooked metal poles to her net, dragging her without actually coming into proximity. Inside the hut, it took ten men to restrain her to a pole where she was tied up. The girl struggled bitterly while throwing insults and threats as another man wrapped some wet cloth over her shoulder. The pain went away instantly.
"Do you plan on selling her?" Asked the doctor.
"Not sure yet, we haven't told the merchant Ghorka about her."
"That snake? I'd recommend selling premium flesh like this in the city yourself."
"We'll see." A sigh. "Lets just keep her alive for now"
"Let me get her measurements." A hand graced Scara's bare bicep, trailing down to squeeze her hip. The Hunter jerked back, snarling at the doctor. "Ill be done in an hour." He stared into her golden, almond-shaped eyes. "Two tops."
"NO" the soldier sighed. "Don't touch her anymore. Just get her some food and go to bed."
The doctor turned around, looking like a sullen child. "You expect me to offer my medical expertise under the table and not let me have a little fun?" His hand, while he talked, casually found its way around Scara's breast under her wolf pelt. She snarled at the sudden touch, her body squirming. The fingers were hard and cruel, squeezing her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Scara contorted her face to a silent grimace as she suffered his touch.
"No means no doctor." The soldier sighed. "You know what, if it'll shut you up, fine. Thirty minutes. But then i want you gone. And not a single peep to the rest of the army."
"Good man." The doctor shoved his bearded face into Scara's. "Hear that beautiful? You get an opportunity of a lifetime. Education from a civilized man. Be fucking grateful." Both hands were playing with her nipples now. Scara's hands were bound over her head, at the top of the pool, stretching her body thereby, her toes brushing the floor. She was gagged and her ankles tied to a spike wedged in the dirt. In other words fucking helpless, Scara thought, rage boiling in her heart. She glared a murderous look at the doctor. Ill kill you.
"Yeah you like that don't you?" He whispered, raking his hands under her tunic on her bare hot skin. Scara twisted her body, recoiling from his touch. His fingers prodded at her sensitive skin, making her jump with each poke. "Mmmmghhhhh!" She snarled into her gag, wishing his face was closer and her hands more free.
"You're slim body is so hot. I can't tell you, I've tested so many Jungle people before and I never get sick of it." He drew his hands up again, so they now poked out of her sleeves and scribbled on her exposed armpits. "And I can already tell you've got the perfect physique for a tickle toy." He smiled, clearly enjoying her reactions. "Oh my goodness so sensitive."
Scara strained to break her bonds, a vein popping on her neck. She hated his fingers under her arms, teasing them. They were a warriors weakness, made sensitive so that Scara could be warned if any claw or fang made contact. This, this was different though. The sheer tease of contact, the fleeting glimpses of touch, sending her instinct-wired body on its fucking edge in every single manner.
The doctor drew circles in Scara's armpits making the savage stamp her foot in frustration. Saliva dribbled from the gag, down her chin. Then he upturned his hands and scratched them up her underarms like little spiders. The ropes dreamed as Scara pulled on them. He lifted her tunic up slightly and enveloped her nipple in his mouth while still scribbling his fingers along her taut stomach. Scara gasped into the gag, anger and indignation flashing in her eyes. She tried to dive away but it was impossible. Moaning in frustration she tilted her head up so she wouldn't have to see this bastard pleasuring her and simply took it. She stood there for five minutes, twitching from each poke on her flanks, shaking as the doctor worked his mouth, his hot wet tongue pressing hard on her nipple.
"Uuufgghhhh..." was all she could manage.
"Oh that was great." The doctor straightened, and brushed some hair out of Scara's face. "Let me see that gorgeous face of yours while I do this."
Not one for asymmetry he did the same to her other breast. Then his hands began massaging and plowing her breasts, the callousness of such shocking Scara despite herself. They squeezed and kneaded their pillowy mass, making Scara kick and squirm uselessly against the pole, tilting her head in a helpless moan. Her gag was wet and her face hot with humiliation.
Was this her fate? To become some toy to a scrawny old man? To faceless men who'd taken her home? Scara yanked harder and harder on her restraints but she felt a sliver of hopelessness and even dispair. The doctor finished, her nipples erect and rock hard.
He then pulled up a chair and took his jacket off. "Hot in here," he said. He squeezed her legs as well, making them dance a bit. "Ahh that's better."
Scara was breathing hard. She was trying to get her thoughts in order. How to escape. How to kill this bastard. How to-
His finger stroked her bare foot and Scara leaped back like a tiger cub whose tail had been stepped on. She snarled into the gag, straining her foot away.
"What a ticklish kitty I've found," laughed the doctor. "Tickle tickle little kitty."
He scribbled his nails on her dirty soles and then drew figure eights on them and then raked his fingers up and down which for Scara was the worst. He played with her toes which were long and dexterious and dipped his nails under tjdm, taunting the soft ingress skin under her toes and the webbing between them. She laughed and howled and cried and her muffled threats only got angrier and more hateful.
"Soft feet for a barbarian," said the doctor, exploring her arches. "Size nine with high arches and wonderful form."
He leaned down and popped her last two digits in his mouth. Scara screamed. His other hand began scribbling with mad abandon under her other foot. Scara tossed her hand back and forth, howling like a madman. Snot flew from her nose.
"Ah," said the doctor, a string of saliva from his lip to her last toe. "Tasty as well. Very nice."
"Ankles...2 inches. Calves 7 inches. Good proportions."
He ran his fingers under her sole, poking her toes. "Good balance I see."
"Nice slim thighs, and well formed hips." Each body part was rewarded with a touch."
