Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16

A few minutes passed and the door opened again. It was Gloria, with Hazel behind.

"Hello, Samothea," Gloria said. "Welcome to the Cloner City. Come on in. I expect you've had a hot and tiring journey. Hazel will show you to the Junior dormitory, where you can wash and change your clothes."

"These are my clothes, Madam."

"I see. Well, we expect the Juniors to dress in a more traditional manner. Hazel will fit you out with some new garments. The fashion at the moment tends toward the frilly and feminine. I hope you won't mind."

Wildchild minded very much but she was resolved to be the most obedient Junior she could be, so she said nothing and meekly followed Gloria into the hall.

"Why haven't we seen you at the Cloner Fair before, Samothea?" Gloria asked.

"I've not been since I was eight."

This was no explanation but Gloria let it pass, not wanting to pry for the moment. The truth was that after Wildchild became Tamar's protector, she always stayed away from the Cloner Fair, which Tamar had never been to, for obvious reasons. The Herders couldn't risk letting the snatched child be reclaimed by the Miner tribe.

"Did you walk all this way on your own?" Hazel asked.

"I rode."

"You have a horse?" she exclaimed.

"I expect it was a gift from Solange," Gloria said. "She was quite your advocate last week. ... You can keep your horse here, of course. Hazel will arrange with the Farmers to deliver the feed. It will come out of your wages, and you must care for her only in your spare time. It mustn't impinge on your duties as a Junior."

Wildchild nodded.

Hazel was amazed that Gloria was accepting as a Junior a girl so unschooled that she didn't speak up when she was addressed. She gave Wildchild a meaningful look. She understood.

"Yes, Madam," Wildchild said. It was the meekest she'd ever been.

"Are you good with your bow?" Gloria wondered.

"I learned only this year," she answered modestly.

"We'll see tonight. We'll have an archery contest in the Hall. What do you say?"

Again, Wildchild had to go against her nature, which was too proud to compete. She began to nod but saw the same look on Hazel's face and spoke up, saying: "I look forward to it, Madam."

As Gloria rejoined the councillors, Hazel led Wildchild up the stairs to the Junior dormitory. The other two Juniors, Jenna and Preeda, were waiting on the Council and could manage on their own, so Hazel helped Wildchild make up her bed and showed her which wardrobe she could use. The bathroom was next door, with its buckets of rain-water warmed in the sun and cakes of clay to use as soap.

Hazel told Wildchild to wash while she found her an appropriate dress. Normally unashamed of nakedness, Wildchild hesitated to strip in front of Hazel, who was waiting, watching her closely.

"Come on, girl!" she said. "I need your clothes so I can take them to be cleaned. Or shall I throw them away? Do you really want to keep them?"

"Please keep them," Wildchild said, surpassing her previous record for meekness.

"Hurry up, then," Hazel ordered.

Wildchild began to strip by unbuttoning her shirt, forgetting her necklace, which had been tucked away inside but now fell forward. Hazel saw it and gave it a keen glance. Wildchild quickly grabbed the pendant and undid the chain, putting it in a pocket of her backpack.

Jewellery wasn't so rare that Hazel was surprised Wildchild had a necklace, but it did seem incongruous on this particular girl. Also, from her brief glance, it looked like an exceptionally fine piece.

Hazel took a good look at the new Junior as she undressed. Whatever she thought of the girl's dress-sense and manners, no one could deny that she was handsome. Wildchild had wavy black hair, wide-set luminous green eyes, high cheek-bones and a button-nose in a heart-shaped face with a small determined chin.

Her powerful athletic body was graced with sweet breasts, small and firm, their light-brown nipples pointing upward. Her waist was thin, with blocks of muscle that were clearly-defined but not too prominent. Her buttocks were firm and round over strong thighs with a gap between her legs.

Hazel had thought Megan represented the peak of athletic beauty: now she added Wildchild to that accolade. It was an honest admission because Hazel didn't seem to like the girl very much.

When Wildchild had washed and dried herself, she returned to the dormitory to see the dress Hazel had picked out. It was a pink summer-frock with frilly lace edging on the neck and sleeves. The hard-bodied athletic girl put it on uncomplainingly. In fact, she looked rather pretty, especially when she pulled the white belt tight and innocently emphasised her new-grown curves.

Her wild hair was shaken dry, however, and not combed. Grooming was something Hazel would have to work on. Meanwhile, she hoped Wildchild would also wear her necklace, so she could get another look at it, but it was left in the backpack as Wildchild declared herself ready to learn her duties.

"It's best if you just shadow me to begin with. I'm sure you'll catch on pretty quickly," Hazel said. "Your first task is to learn how to curtsey."

When Wildchild was adept at that anachronistic manoeuvre, Hazel explained who the councillors were and how they were to be addressed. Now the new Junior was ready to go downstairs to help with dinner.

"How good are you at washing up?" Hazel asked.

In the Council Chamber, the councillors had ended their meeting and were relaxing around the table, waiting for an early dinner.

Wildchild was shown to the kitchen, where the cooks had finished. Jenna and Preeda, carrying loaded plates to the table, said "Hello" to Wildchild as they rushed past with their burdens. Hazel gave Wildchild an apron and showed her to the cloths and a fresh bucket of water to wash up the cooking pots. She left Wildchild working and helped the other Juniors until the councillors were catered for and it was time for the Juniors to enjoy their own dinner in the kitchen.

Now Wildchild got to meet Jenna and Preeda properly. They thought she was shy and a little introverted, though Hazel couldn't wait to get them alone and tell them that Wildchild was actually a bit of a mystery-girl, with her horse, her man's clothes and her necklace.

After dinner there was more washing up. When it was done, Hazel said to Wildchild:

"Take off your apron and go into the Council Chamber. Madam Gloria wants to talk to you."

Amazing herself by her obedience, Wildchild entered the Council Chamber, curtsied and stood silently before the great table.

The eyes of five dignified women inspected her. For once in her life, Wildchild was intimidated; but not for long. At first she blamed her dress for making her feel like a girl. Then she smiled to herself at the absurdity of being shy and lifted her head to meet the imposing gazes of the councillors.

"Ladies," Gloria said, "we have a new Junior I'd like you to meet. This is Samothea."

"Samothea Galateasdaughter Herder," Madam Recorder said, automatically.

"I'm a Woodlander, Madam," Wildchild corrected, her boldness resurgent.

"Woodlander, you say? I'll update our records."

"I like your choice of frock, Samothea," Gloria said. "It suits you."

Wildchild thanked her with her best curtsey but she didn't smile because it wasn't the kind of praise she desired or often heard.

"This is the girl Solange made such a fuss about last week," Gloria reminded them. "She knows she will be treated exactly the same as the other Juniors. But I think she doesn't like to be questioned much about her past."

Wildchild acknowledged this fact with meekly down-turned eyes.

Gloria doubted her strong hint would protect Wildchild from the inevitable prying; yet the girl was here to learn and must fare as best she could on her own, relying on her natural charm and intelligence to protect her privacy.

"Ladies," Gloria concluded: "tonight's entertainment is archery. If your dinners have gone down sufficiently, we'll have the targets out. I'd like to see how adept our young Woodlander is with her bow."

Archery practise was always an open invitation to all the Cloners, many of whom had bows, though they never went hunting. Word was sent throughout the City and those councillors who wanted to compete went to collect their weapons while the Juniors carried the targets from the storeroom.

Wildchild quickly fetched her bow and quiver from the dormitory. She was back in time to help the Juniors set up two large A-frames with barrel-shaped straw targets held together by thick leather straps. Bull's-eyes were painted on the centres of the targets.

About thirty women stood at the far end of the hall, fifty feet from the targets, making two lines.

Allowed three shots each, most of the archers hit the target but only a few of their arrows hit the bull's-eye. Even fewer penetrated the thick leather. Many just bounced off. Wildchild joined the end of a queue. By the time it was her turn to shoot, four arrows were stuck around the edge of the bull's-eye.

Gloria came over to watch the Woodlander girl and her interest brought silence. The women crowded about Wildchild. If they meant to intimidate her, it didn't work. She tightened on the leather arm-strap that Sharne had made, took a sideways stance at the line and composed herself.

There was keen interest and some whispering when she pulled out a glass-tipped arrow. Like most of the Woodlanders' arrows, the Cloners' arrows were sharpened to a point and hardened in the fire. Some had stone tips: fewer had ancient metal tips; but none had glass points.

Wildchild loaded her arrow and straightened up, pulling back hard. The bow creaked under the strain, its string groaning, but she held steady and raised her aim to the target. She breathed out slowly and held her breath, closing one eye to make a final adjustment and loosed the arrow. It flexed as it shot away, whistling through the air in the dead-quiet of the hall.

There was a thump as the arrow split the leather coat of the target inside the bull's-eye and passed all the way through. The glass point shattered against the wall with a splintering crack. Feathers were left in the target. The arrow was ruined; but Wildchild had triumphed and the women cheered. They mobbed her, admiring her prowess with the bow, wanting to see her arrows.

"Well done, Samothea!" Gloria enthused. "That was fancy shooting! How did you get glass-pointed arrows?"

"I made them, Madam," she said.

"How did you make them?" Madam Scientist asked.

"I melted sand and poured it into a clay mold."

"Remarkable!" Madam Scientist exclaimed. "If you have some time, I'd like you to show me."

"Yes, Madam."

After more congratulations, the evening's fun was over and it was time for the Juniors to put the councillors to bed. Back in the dormitory, the girls wanted to learn all about Wildchild. Preeda began:

"You're brilliant with that bow!" she exclaimed. "Do you use it for hunting?"

"Yes," Wildchild said.

"What do you hunt?"

"Pigeons mostly."

"What else have you hunted?" Jenna asked.

"Ducks, swan, quail, ra ..."

Wildchild was about to say "rabbits" but stopped herself. She didn't want to say that she'd visited the White Mountains. She didn't want to boast about her adventures to girls who had rarely, if ever, left the city.

"What were you going to say?" Preeda asked but Wildchild didn't answer.

"It's late," Hazel interrupted. "Let's go to sleep. Samothea can tell us more tomorrow."

Wildchild was unexpectedly grateful to Hazel. She lay down on her bed while Jenna and Preeda exchanged a puzzled look. Hazel blew out the candles.

Hazel had guessed what Wildchild was going to say. As a Farmer, among whom resided the remnants of the Miner tribe, she knew there were rabbits in the mountains. Hazel kept this fact to herself, though, to ponder the mystery that was Samothea.

Wildchild didn't sleep at first. Although she'd become used to sleeping on a bed while living with the Woodlanders, their mattresses were hard-worn and patched up. The mattresses in the Junior dormitory were of good quality, with springs and plenty of cushioning.

Just like Megan, who had found her bed too soft, Wildchild put the bed-clothes on the floor to make a nest and slept more comfortably there.

6

Next morning in the Mariner Settlement, Cressi and Ezra were the last to join the tribe for breakfast. Cressi had marks from last night's spanking but rather than hide them under her clothes, she wore her short skirt high and bent over more than she needed to, exposing the marks. She got a little interest from some of the women and an indulgent smile or two. What she didn't expect was jealousy from Kalyndra; but the older girl seemed to resent Cressi showing off and made a couple of catty remarks. It was unusual and Cressi brushed it off for now.

Nothing else happened until after breakfast, when Kalyndra was meant to go on a fishing raft, while Devon and Cressi were to help the matrons at the salt-pans.

Kalyndra asked Devon if she would swap places with her. Devon was happy to do so and didn't ask why. Working at the salt-pans all morning, fetching buckets of sea-water to pour over the large leather sheets as the matrons raked off the dry salt, Kalyndra continued to goad Cressi with more catty remarks. Cressi answered back forcefully and the argument got increasingly bitchy and unpleasant.

Ezra chopped wood that morning and brought the loads to the camp-fire as the women began to drift back into the camp for lunch. He heard a commotion. Two girls were fighting at the salt-pans, pulling hair and screaming.

It was Kalyndra and Cressi. The girls struggled together but it wasn't an even combat. Although Cressi was fast and had sharp claws, Kalyndra was heavier, stronger and six-inches taller.

The fight ended on the floor, with Kalyndra kneeling on Cressi, pinning her arms down, ready to slap her, when she felt herself being pulled up by the waist and lifted in the air.

"Come here, you," Ezra said. He half-carried, half-dragged Kalyndra out of the camp and down to the beach. Some of the women followed but Ezra barked at them.

"Leave us alone!" he said and they held back.

On the beach, he ordered Kalyndra to strip and when she was slow to obey, he walloped her bottom hard.

"Strip!" he ordered again and this time Kalyndra obeyed. Ezra also undressed down to his shorts and walked into the sea.

"We're going to the island," he said. "Come on. You need a lesson."

Kalyndra hadn't spoken since Ezra grabbed her and if she resented being man-handled and ordered around, she made no protest. She swam fast and he struggled to keep up with her. On the island, he made her wait while he caught his breath, then he tied her to one of the palm trees so she was hugging it, standing with her bare back exposed.

He gagged her with a rope. She turned her face so she rested a cheek against the trunk while Ezra stripped a palm leaf to make a flogger from the stem. He walloped her bottom with it hard. The flogger stung and made her gasp. He hit her again. She grunted. His strokes left hot purple bruises. The flesh of her buttocks throbbed and ached.

He flogged her thighs, calves, shoulders and everything except the small of her back. She yelped and cried out, despite the rope gag, breathing quickly and squirming against the tree in a futile but instinctive urge to avoid the biting whip.

When she was red and hot from the harsh punishment, he removed her gag.

"Tell me why you attacked Cressi," he demanded, "or I'll turn you around and flog your front!"

She refused to talk but met his harsh gaze with a bold defiant look, daring him to do his worse.

"So be it!" he said.

Ezra secured Kalyndra between two palm trees, her arms and legs spread wide. She still stung from the previous flogging but was strong enough to bite her lip and stop a whimper escaping. She shut her eyes and held her breath, waiting for the punishment to continue.

He whipped her hard on the stomach. She cried out. He did it again. Now she couldn't help herself whimpering.

He flogged the fronts of her thighs, her belly and the insides of her thighs where it hurt the most. She shrieked and twisted, shrinking away from the flogger, trying to escape the stinging blows. He stopped.

"Tell me why you fought with Cressi!"

When she refused to explain herself, he flogged her again, harder. She screamed, panting and sweating, weeping from the pain.

She was bright red all over, purple bruises criss-crossed her skin. Tears and snot dribbled down her face, but she stood boldly upright between the trees, ropes holding her arms and legs outstretched. He placed the flogger against her tits, resting it on her big hard nipples. She looked up at him.

"Kali, I'm asking you for the last time," he warned, "and if you don't answer me, I'll whip these. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Tell me why you attacked Cressi."

Kalyndra shook her head and Ezra pulled his arm back. It was like slow-motion. She saw the whole thing long before she felt it; but reality caught up quickly.

The flogger smacked against her tits. She shrieked and sank down on her ropes. A bright red line crossed her chest. Her nipples throbbed. The pain was excruciating; yet when the pain abated, a strong heat descended to her pussy, which also throbbed. She was soaked and wanted an orgasm as much as the punishment.

Ezra rested the whip against her tits again. She was panting and weeping and didn't look up; but still she shook her head.

Whack! He struck her tits a second time, compressing them with a violent stroke.

Despite the agony, Kalyndra had more wet ache in her loins, more need for his domination and control. She refused to answer once more, craving punishment, aching for the pain and the pleasure, and once more he whacked her nipples, the hardest yet.

That was it! That was her limit! Her body convulsed. She shook with an orgasm, collapsing forward, bent over, trying to shield her tits from the whip.

The hardest punishment she could endure, the worst pain she could take, gave her an exquisite orgasm she felt all over her body, taking her breath away, sending her mind elsewhere, the hot pain spreading out over her skin as a pleasantly tingling warmth. Her flowing tears were a true release. She wept from pain but also for joy because it was Ezra who had made her cry.

"I'm messed up!" she thought, "but I need it."

Kalyndra flinched as Ezra raised his hand for another blow. It was her sign that she'd had enough.

"Tell me why you attacked Cressi," he ordered.

She tried to talk but the words caught in her throat, strangled by her pants and sobs. She got her breath under control, swallowed and tried again.

"I ... I was jealous ...," she stammered. "I didn't want you to dominate her the way you dominate me. I don't want her to be your slave as well. I want to be your only slave."

"Cressi isn't my slave and nor are you. We're only playing. I was playing with Cressi, as I do with Devon and you."

"Please, Ezra? I need this. I love you, like nothing else in the world. I want to serve you. Please don't reject me?"

"I'm not rejecting you but I don't want a slave. I love you Kali, I cherish every moment I've spent with you. You're mine forever. You don't need to obey me or serve me ..."

She looked down, so he wouldn't see the disappointment in her eyes, the loss of hope, the resignation to knowing he didn't want her full submission. Yet he saw it all and couldn't bear to hurt her.

"... but, if it will stop you fighting with Cressi, or anyone else who likes to be tied up and spanked, then you can be my slave. You can serve me, exactly as you want."

She raised her head, her eyes shining brightly, the tears flowing, her face illuminated with joy.