The Warrior's Captive

 

I. New Beginnings

It would be of no use denying that it was courting danger to try and follow her. My father and mother — Allmaker rest their souls — had pushed me for years to settle down with a woman, with a good wife that could tend to the home and care for children. But I am, if nothing else, an unwary man. A curious, restless, unwary man who stumbles more often than he walks.

Perhaps that was what drew my attention to her in the first place. The men in the town were anything but kind to her when she would stop in. The ones that didn't mock and insult her were surely boasting in the crudest attempts to bed her. The women seemed to regard her as equal parts harlot and mannish brute. Yet there was an unmistakable manner of grace and confidence with which she carried herself.

Of course, it wasn't the grace or confidence taught to our women at temple. It was something more primal, more ancient even. It was more akin to the wild beauty of a flame dancing in the wind. An image complemented well by the color of her own unkempt hair.

To be truthful, the first time I set eyes on her, I dismissed her as a savage beast. Her people of the steppes have the reputation for being such, and to look on her does nothing to deter these impressions. The strips of leather and chainmail that typically adorn her are better called rags than clothing, and the body they barely conceal is muscular and regularly coated with dirt and sweat. She is more than a little ill-tempered and ill-mannered as well, even when she strolls into town to rely on the goodwill of people she might be trading with.

Behind all the whispers and rumors, though, was fear. None would say so except privately, with the most discerning company, but this mysterious warrior woman was not the sort of woman you wanted to be on the wrong side of. She could be tolerant enough of the gawkers, the silent judges of character, and even the boorish men. However, I quickly learned as soon as I followed after her that this tolerance is more a testament to her character than any sign of weakness.

Shortly after she left our town, she set out for a small village about a day's journey east. I did my best to remain out of sight, including bedding down for the night in the woods many dozens of paces apart from where she camped. Later when the moon was high, I nearly gave away my position as I noticed a band of three armed men approaching with the obvious intent to rob or otherwise cause her harm. As I started to move closer and contemplated what to do, I was astonished to see my worries had been quite unfounded.

The "bed" she had made for herself out of straw, leaves, bushes, her boots, and other materials was nothing but a ruse. Once the assailants came upon the scene, they were too late to pick up on the deception. Just as they were too late to react when she leapt down from her hiding spot in the trees above.

One of the men fell instantly. The second crossed swords with her a few times before he lost his grip and was finished. The last man, who was clearly the best fighter of the three, stood his ground for a while, taunting and striking at the woman. Right as he kicked her to the ground and it appeared she would not recover, she rolled to the side as he came near, kicked at his feet with all her might, and drove her sword into his neck as he landed beside her.

Next, I watched her casually wipe herself off, loot the bodies before tossing them somewhere into the surrounding forest, restore her "bed" to its former state, and then climb back into the trees. Needless to say, this disturbed any notions I might have had about making myself known to her, especially in the dark of night. It suddenly seemed to me that she might be even more vicious than the whispers and rumors let on.

The very next day, though, I was once again surprised at what I would witness. For when she arrived at the village she'd been traveling to, I half expected she would raze it to the ground. Instead, after some moments passed, I caught sight of her with a destitute family that embraced and honored her for reasons I could not fully understand. I suspect it may well have had to do with a sack the woman handed to them, but whether it contained food, money, or some items of more sentimental value, I cannot say.

This was also the first time I learned the woman's name: Aloisa.

Being the nephew of an innkeeper, you often heard some of the wildest gossip that the town had to offer before anyone else. While most of it was certainly hogwash, it could still fill a young impressionable man with a sense of imagination, and it all sounded better to me than taking over for father and becoming a carpenter. Many an argument we had over my love for bugging the men in the town with questions about far away lands, or asking the scribes for whatever fantastical manuscripts they were willing to lend out to an eager mind that would never return them. My parents did seem grateful I had received some form of education from habits such as these, but I believe my father disliked the dissatisfaction it instilled in me for carpentry.

For a few years I had seen Aloisa come and go from our town, and although I was not such a young man anymore when I finally decided to follow her, it was the same youthful curiosity and passion for adventure that inspired me to do so. After spending three nights on her trail, though, I was increasingly aware of both the risk I was taking and the fact that I had prepared poorly for the task. I naively believed I could find a caravan and make my way back home if I needed to, but I was no longer sure if I wanted as much. The option this left me with was not encouraging, to be frank. I would either have to tell her or chance being discovered.

On the fourth night, however, something happened. I had run out of what little food I packed some hours before. Watching her hunt, kill, and skin a boar before roasting its meat on the fire filled me with hunger again. I almost convinced myself I should rush out there, fall on my face, and beg for any scraps. But then a calm and firm voice broke the quiet of the night.

"Come out, boy," she said.

I froze in my place, terrified that I'd been caught. After a moment, she spoke up again.

"I know you're there. I know you've been following me the last four nights. You've been doing it so poorly anyone would know."

I could see her continue to sit before the fire, her back facing me, not moving a muscle. If she had known I was here all this time, why had she waited until now? Had she given some thought to killing me like those other men? Suddenly I could hear her sigh in frustration.

"I'm not going to tell you again," she warned. "You can come out now or you can starve. I don't really care which one you pick, but hurry up with it already, will you?"

Before I realized it, my feet were stumbling out of the woods and toward the fire. I thought about how easy it would be for her to grab her blade, turn right around, and pierce me as I'm diving to the food at her side. Soon that thought turned into wonder at why she didn't so much as flinch as I came up behind her and crawled over to sit several feet away.

Looking me over for a minute, she tore off a piece of meat and threw it unsympathetically into the dirt in front of me. I could not help but feel ashamed at what I'd been reduced to, but hunger brings even the proudest of us down low. I picked up the meat and bit into it without even bothering to brush the dirt off. At this, a strange smile appeared on her face.

"What's your name, boy?" she asked me emotionlessly.

I silently kept chewing and eating, as if acknowledging the beast would make it real. It did not take long to figure out that not acknowledging her would potentially be far more dangerous.

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, boy. I'm not the one who rushed out here with barely anything packed to follow some stranger to the middle of nowhere. You start answering me or you'll really see what I'm like when I'm angry."

"Andrew," I nearly interrupted her.

"Well, Andrew," she said with a slight pause, "what in the Allmother's name are you doing out here following me?"

My chewing slowed and my eyes drifted over her gradually, circling around the sword lying mere inches from where she sat. As if reading my thoughts, she took the sword and sheath in her hand, considered it carefully, and then looked back at me as she tossed it just a little outside her arm's length. I can only imagine what a child I must have seemed then, as I stopped chewing with mouth open. At least this was fairly good sign I was not about to die that very instant.

"I... I don't know," I admitted to her, the words trickling out uncomfortably.

"No one leaves their home in pursuit of a strange woman for no reason, boy."

That she was right about. Even so, I struggled with what to say, although her manner of speaking to me felt oddly inviting in a way that reminded me why I was there. My pride wanted to object every time she called me "boy," but I must have truly been several years younger, and I was not about to argue semantics with a sword-wielding warrior woman. I had not come here to argue, anyway. It felt like I had come to learn.

"I saw you in Greywall," I finally mustered the courage to confess.

"Yes, I know," she responded passively. "You must think I'm far less observant than I am. Though I don't know how you still believe that after you watched those men die by my hand."

I had stopped eating and glanced nervously at her before averting my gaze again. She let out an amused little sound and smirked. Inside, I found myself pondering if it was worse thinking how she had killed people, or if it just might be worse to leave her believing that you think ill of her. After all, those men had clearly meant her harm.

"I meant no offense," I said at last. "I just... I don't know. Greywall is where I've lived my entire life, but I feel it's no home. Not for me. When I've... seen you in town... it's made me think what else is out there."

"You're just a boy. What do you know? Be grateful what you have. Go out looking for adventure and other nonsense when you're older."

"I'm not a boy," I snapped. She raised her head and met my eyes with an intense look. "I mean... I'm not a child. I'm twenty years of age. Other men my age have left home. They've made lives for themselves. They've gone to war."

"Boy," she began, taking care to make sure her choice of words was heard clearly, "I've known many who fight wars and are not men. I've known boys... and girls... who left homes, not by choice, and lived to regret it. Where I come from, you wouldn't be considered a man. But where you come from, I am not considered a woman. It's not wrong to be who you are. It's not wrong to embrace what they try to shame you with, either."

Her eyes stared off distantly into the fire, the flames flickering and sparkling in the reflection. Boy or not, I could tell there was a story behind her reaction. I could also tell it was not a story she was ready to share. I picked up the meat again and continued eating.

"My parents are gone," I slipped in after a minute. "My uncle wants me to help him run the inn. The rest of the town would like to see me follow in my father's footsteps. There are even some families that hope I will marry their daughter some day when I've taken up a respectable trade. But I want none of it. Greywall has nothing left for me."

For a moment, she sat there in silence, watching me intently as I fidgeted and rubbed my leg. Part of me felt she was thinking over whether or not anyone would come looking for me. Another part sensed that perhaps she recognized something familiar in what I'd said. By the time she spoke up, her response was just a simple one.

"I'm Aloisa," she said.

"P-pleased to meet you," I stuttered.

"Andrew," she went on after another pause, "go home. You can sleep here tonight. I won't hurt you as long as you keep your hands to yourself. But tomorrow you need to be gone. I don't want to see you following me anymore."

Afterwards, I finished my food and found a nice spot on the ground to call my bed. I fell asleep asking myself if she was lonely, wondering what it would feel like to be in her bed, and thinking what trouble I could be in if I were to disregard what I'd been told to do.

* * * * *

Frightening as my first encounter with her had been, it seemed to have the opposite effect from what she intended. I realized she was likely to be far less forgiving the second time around, but I felt even more strongly now that I could not bring myself to return to Greywall. To do so would be to admit defeat and accept a life of misery. She may well have been right — what did I know at my age? If I knew nothing else, I knew that I had to get away.

My plan had been to stay a little further back from here on, hoping she would not notice me if I kept at a greater distance. When she would stop off in nearby towns and villages, I would exert the best efforts to remain unseen, while buying what food I could afford and sleeping in stables or other places I would not be noticed. The more remote our journey became, I was forced to rely on fruits and nuts gathered from the surrounding woods. It was rough at times, but I was surprised to find that I was able to travel with her for several days without being caught.

I told myself I was still following her because I wanted to see her homeland. Exchanging words even briefly with her had filled my mind with all sorts of ideas about what her people must be like, what her culture must be like. Certainly, this was some part of it, and I wanted to know if there might be a place in the world for me after all. In honesty, though, this was not the full truth. I was following her because she fascinated me.

It never dawned on me that she might not be going home, nor had it occurred to me that there was a reason she was not traveling on horse or using the main roads. It was too late to wonder at why she had sent me away and what that might imply. The reason didn't matter much to me compared to my own fancies. Like I said, I am an unwary man. An unwary man who perhaps still is a boy in many ways.

Late one night, I awoke to the sound of men and horses. Carefully crawling through the brush to see where they were going, I was startled to witness them approaching Aloisa's camp. She was already alert by the time they arrived, and yet her behavior did not show fear or aggression. Curious, I snuck closer and closer to where they were, aiming to overhear what they were meeting about.

The men were very clearly mercenaries, judging from the way they dressed and spoke. From what I could make out, they had come seeking a bounty, presumably for Aloisa's return, alive or dead. It appeared they were trying to persuade her to come with them without any violence. Of course, with three men in the riding party, taking a woman captive with them, one need not guess what Aloisa probably understood this offer to mean.

When she politely declined with a gesture of her arm, the men predictably became violent. One attempted to chase her down on horseback, only to discover she had come prepared with a bow that was stashed just out of sight. With a quick draw and a dive behind the trunk of a tree, she hit the mercenary square in his chest, sending him toppling over the side of his horse.

The other two men circled around the camp, looking for cover as she sent another arrow spiraling past them. I continued creeping closer to the area, beginning to think if I could be bold enough to use the dagger I had in my boot and assist her. The chaos went on before me, as one man's horse was struck, forcing him to dismount. The other rider attempted to get closer, but also had to dismount to follow Aloisa into the woods.

I am ashamed to tell what happened next. In my youthful curiosity, I had not thought to stay aware of my own surroundings. I had not expected there might be more than the three mercenaries that had confronted her, either. But there were, and I was taken hostage by two who had stayed behind on the outskirts of the area, anticipating that Aloisa might try to flee. I was grabbed, bound, and carried to the edge of the woods.

One of the men took me and threw me onto the dirt, holding a sword to my neck. He called for the red-haired woman, threatening to end my life if she didn't emerge from the trees. A few tense moments later, she came out with an angry look on her face. Only one of the two men that had followed her into the woods was at her back now.

"I should let them kill you where you lie," she growled at me.

"I'm sorry," was all I could weakly mumble.

Slowly, led by the man behind her, she approached us. For a minute, the men quarreled over what to do with us. They debated if it was worth keeping me alive. One of them had the idea to strip the "savage woman" and make her worth their trouble. Another said to kill her too and ease their troubles. The third reminded them the bounty was higher if she were to be captured alive. While they argued on, Aloisa glanced down at me and her eyes drifted to my right foot. The dagger.

I carefully moved my hand lower until it touched the top of my boot. I heard a grunt of frustration and looked up to see the man behind Aloisa now tearing at her top. Her eyes rolled.

"Men," she grumbled. "You have all the power and money in the world and you can't even get a bra off without pawing at it like an animal."

The man behind me laughed and mocked his friend. I slid my fingers down the top of my boot and found the dagger. I hesitated, knowing I'd need a distraction. Aloisa's eyes met mine. Something reminded me that either way, I was likely to die. If I got caught, I would die. If I waited too long, they would finish with Aloisa and kill me. Or kill both of us.

"Do you need some help?" she asked the man behind her.

Violently, he shoved her head forward, took his sword and cut the straps on the back of her top. It fell with a soft thud. Seeing it there in the dirt, I pulled out the dagger and concealed it between my hands.

"Took you long enough," Aloisa remarked.

"You in a hurry?" the man at her back spoke. "I like that."

She pursed her lips and sighed. Another swift cut with his sword and the bottom of her outfit came off. Now standing there in nothing but her boots, she gave me a firm look.

"You certainly seem to be," she responded. "Who doesn't like a man that finishes fast?"

I could feel the heat of her anger directed at me as she spoke, but the two men behind me just laughed again. They teased their friend and kept their eyes fixed on Aloisa. I began cutting frantically at the ropes around my wrists, as quickly as I could without making a sound that might alert anyone.

The man behind Aloisa hit her a little harder on the back of the head, then forced his dirty hands around her. She became noisy and jerked away. He pulled her back and put his hands on her again. Once the ropes were cut, I looked up at her. For a second, I felt I could tell exactly what was on her mind.

Fight, boy, she seemed to say. This will get ugly.

It had been a grave mistake to leave Aloisa's leather boots on, but in all their hurry and excitement, the men had overlooked that rather important issue. When she bent forward, drew her right leg up, and thrust her foot back into the man's crotch with all her strength, the mistake was quickly realized by all, myself included. The rapist that had been clawing at her sunk to the ground in howls of pain.

 

As I felt the man behind me start to move, I grabbed his arm that had his sword against my neck, put my back to his legs as firmly as I could, and wrestled with him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aloisa dive for the sword of the dead mercenary who had fallen off his horse. The look in her eyes was enough to even terrify me.

In a split second, the man I was wrestling with fell over me, and I jumped on him to shove the sword he was holding into his belly. I struggled and feared the worst might happen, but as I heard another man scream behind me, I knew I couldn't risk losing this fight. I hit the man in the face, yelled, and made the blade go in. It was horrible, just like she'd said.

I crawled back into the dirt and let the man lie there, choking on his own blood. In a matter of seconds, he was dead. Just as the shock started to wear off, though, I saw a vision enter my field of view. A woman clad only in boots, walking casually over to her attacker, sword in hand. I felt like if it had been me alone, I would've probably met my end after killing the first one. Here she was, triumphantly going to finish the job.

The man begged for his life. He offered her money. Apologized in extraordinary fashion. And then he screamed his last breath at the end of her blade. When the deed was done, she spit on his body.

At this moment, I was thanking the Allmaker to be alive. I was practically ready to kiss the ground Aloisa walked upon. So when she whirled around and stormed towards me, sword held out to my neck, I was taken completely off guard. I crawled backwards in the dirt and must have squealed at the sight, believing she would kill me next.

"You stupid little shit!" she yelled. "You nearly got both of us killed! This is exactly why I told you to go home! But you didn't fucking listen, did you? Now look at what you did! You are so unbelievably lucky to be alive. Though I don't think you deserve to be!"

"I can't go home!" I yelled back, sitting up towards her. It was not the smartest thing to do, but I was hardly in a calm spirit after what had just happened.

"You're just a spoiled little brat," she growled through her teeth. "You don't know what you're saying."

She lowered her sword and then tossed it on the ground. Quietly, she went into the woods. For a few seconds, I wondered if that was that, if she was just leaving me there. Then she returned, carrying her own sword in its sheath, which she placed near her bed.

"I-I'm sorry," I finally said softly. "I am. I should've listened to you. I—"

"Why can't you go home?" she interrupted, standing with her back to me and staring into the fire, burning on its last dying embers.

"I... can't... I won't... go home... where my uncle..."

Her head lowered at my words, although I myself wasn't sure of what exactly I was saying. Aloisa turned around and came closer.

"Then why do you want to be here?"

"You," I said, hanging my head at the admission.

"You want to die at my side, is that it?" she asked dispassionately.

"No," I murmured. "I didn't die. I... didn't feel alone, either. You..."

"You keep saying that and I'll kick you in the crotch, too."

"No, I mean... you're... different. Strong. Safe."

The warrior woman rarely looked like she was in deep thought. I say this not as an insult, but as admiration. When she acts, she acts on instinct, with confidence, and she speaks her mind. Yet this time she appeared to be really thinking, looking at the horses nearby.

"We need to get moving soon," she said. "We need to be gone in case anyone stumbles upon things here. This won't be the last party of mercenaries that try such a stunt."

Hearing her, I scrambled to my feet in a rush, almost tripping over myself. The threat of danger is always good incentive, especially after what we had just been through. But I have always suspected she knew the real reason for my reaction was not that. It was because she was allowing me to come with her.

She walked over to where her clothing lay and picked up the pieces, folding them and taking them over with the rest of her belongings. I went over to her and helped her pack. When I had the chance, I turned to her and thanked her.

"Don't thank me yet, boy," she cautioned. "If you join me, you join on my terms."

"What terms are those?"

Aloisa stopped what she was doing and faced me. "Undress," she ordered me.

"W-what?"

"Should I be standing here naked while you're clothed? Undress."

Hesitantly, I slipped my shirt and pants off. I was told to toss them on the ground, which I did. Standing there in my undergarments, she commanded me to turn around next. I could hear her footsteps as she came near. Then came the call for the undergarments to be removed. I pulled them off slowly, trembling a little, which I'm sure must have been noticeable to her.

I did wonder what she would do to me then, in such a vulnerable state. Her next move was simply to speak.

"Good. There is one other thing for now."

"Yes?"

"I'm taking you as my captive," she said. "Men don't travel with me until I can trust them. And I don't trust you yet. You will earn my trust over time."

"Okay."

I felt her cold blue eyes move across my body. I could hear her breathing behind me.

"Do you understand?" she questioned me. "I'm not taking you as my companion, nor my lover. If you come with me... I'd be taking you as my slave. Until I decide what to do with you."

"I understand," I said after a brief pause.

What a stupid boy she must think I am, I thought to myself. What a sad, desperate, lonely boy. What kind of weakling agrees to such a thing? Clearly, she was just testing me. Now she'll be sending me off to go home again.

"Hands behind your back," she commanded.

As I slowly extended my hands back towards her, she grabbed my wrists, forced them together, and tied them tight. I would not be getting out of this binding like I got out of the other one. Yet there was a confusing sense of comfort in this, as if I was now hers to look after.

"Riding horseback like this won't be comfortable," she said, "but we're not going far."

The tone of her voice changed as she said this, taking me by my restraints and leading me to the horses. If I had not known any better, I might have imagined she was glad about this development. Although I could not tell you if she was glad to be taking me along or simply glad she wouldn't have to leave me for dead.

Suddenly, I felt my legs depart the ground as we came to the horse she'd chosen for us to ride. I knew this woman was strong from the sight of her alone, but it was a surprise nonetheless when she lifted me up and slung me over the horse on my stomach. To say this brewed an intense feeling of helplessness in me is to understate the facts. Draped across the horse's back in such a manner, watching her gather her things and tie them to the animal, I was becoming more and more aware of what mercy this warrior was showing me.

Aloisa mounted our horse and pulled me into her lap, steadying my body with her left hand placed directly on my buttocks, and her right hand pressing down on my back. She checked the restraints, put her feet in the stirrups, took the reins, and we were off.

All the way to our destination, my mind was restless. It explored every rumor, every whisper I had heard of this woman back home. It pictured every scenario, no matter how horrid, that could transpire henceforth. It spoke in teasing, tormenting ways to me about all of it. How it had excited me seeing her undressed by those awful men. How I had to make myself stop staring. And now, how I was bent over her horse, unable to even glimpse anything but her leg, while so much of me was at her lap.

It was not long before the blood rushed to my head and I started feeling dizzy. When we finally stopped and she pulled me down from the horse, setting me on my feet, I quickly lost balance and tumbled over onto the dirt. With a laugh, she reached down, took me by the waist, and put me over her shoulder.

I, a twenty year old man — though slim in stature, I should confess — was taken over the shoulder of this woman, as if it were nothing. The only thing more embarrassing than this would surely have to be the growing erection she doubtlessly felt pressing into her shoulder. If the blood had not left my head a ways back, my cheeks would have been the brightest shade of red.

One thing I was able to notice in the midst of it all was that we had not traveled to some village or town where she lived. For whatever reason, she had taken us to a very secluded spot in what appeared to be a small valley. Around it was nothing but woods, so thick the light of the moon barely came through. We had entered by a trail big enough for only one horse, and at the end of the path was her tent.

Taking me off her shoulder, she laid me down gently on the bed. It was little more than blankets and straw stuffed into casing, but compared to the horse it was comfortable. After this, she left again to retrieve what goods and items were still on the horse.

Glancing around the tent, I saw precious little that would tell a person more about the one residing there. There were makeshift racks and hooks on wood beams from which she hung a variety of weapons. In one corner was an old, decrepit looking armor stand that held an outfit quite similar to the one she had worn before. A small chair in another corner. At the other end of the bed was a cooking pot, and on the side of it were several sacks. What my eyes were drawn to most, however, was a chain hanging slightly from the crossbeam in the center of the room.

"How is your head?" Aloisa asked me after returning to the tent.

"Better," I answered.

She threw the bags in the corner and placed her sword and sheath into one of the racks. Examining her clothing, she tossed it under the armor stand and sighed.

"Good bikini armor is so hard to come by," she remarked. "I've been repairing the same pairs for so long that it's a wonder they stay on at all. It beats those heavy bastard armors all the soldiers wear, though. I've never understood how anyone can move in those things."

Next, she pulled the chair near to me, sat down, and took off her boots. She leaned forward on her knees and looked me over. Lying on my side, hands still tied behind me, more nervous than I had ever been, I could do nothing but listen.

"I've never had a slave before," she told me with a grin as my heart began beating faster. "I've freed slaves. Killed slave-owners. But never had a slave myself. What do you make of that?"

My eyes widened on her, still not sure what to think.

"I'm not fond of taking captives," Aloisa went on. "It makes for messier business. But the world is not all rainbows, is it? There are those who say, 'Let the priests and the court debate what's right.' I've often thought that perhaps they would learn more from being on the other end of the leash."

She got up and grabbed two rocks by the cooking pot, striking them against each other until sparks flew and ignited the wood in the small pit beneath. Carefully, she reached in and took one burning stick, using it to light three candles nearby before sticking it back into the pit and snuffing out the fire. After placing the candles a fair distance apart to light the room, I watched as she walked over and closed the tent flap.

"I'm not planning to abuse you," she said, much to my relief, before coming to sit by me again. "You'll be fed. Have a place to rest. And if things go well, you might travel with me eventually. But you're young, naive, and undisciplined. You need to be taught."

"Yes," I finally spoke up anxiously.

"Quiet, boy," she swiftly corrected me. "I'm not asking you these things, I'm telling you. You left home to follow me. Even after I told you to shoo, you disobeyed. We were both almost killed because of you. I gave you your choice if you wanted to come with me. You've made your choice."

Yes, it had been courting danger to follow her. I was as young, naive, and undisciplined as she said, but I was not dumb. I could not have known the full extent of what she'd have in mind for me, though this hardly mattered. I had accepted the risk more than once. I had made my choice and this was where it led me. Acknowledging this the best I could, I closed my mouth and looked patiently at her.

"Good. Don't trust your instincts. Trust that I'll tell you what I want. So many males are led astray by their instincts. I want you to hear me. Obey me. My instincts will govern both of us."

She could not have been more than nine or ten years older than myself, but I could not help feeling like a cub to Aloisa. I knew I had truly demonstrated my ignorance in how I'd already acted, yet her demeanor and behavior were constant reminders I was out of my depth here. I would have to trust her for both our sakes.

With one hand, she lifted my legs and sat on the bed, lowering me back down. Turning me over until my bare ass was facing up, she placed her left hand on it and pushed on my hands to move them out of the way. Immediately, I was breathing harder, my penis growing against her thigh. As much as I had protested before about being a man, I could not be in this position to her and lie.

"Do they spank children in Greywall?" she asked me in a tone of voice that could either have been teasing or curious.

"Y-yes," I stammered.

"Hmm. It doesn't seem to have done you much good. Where I come from, the most disobedient children are sent to the priestesses to be disciplined. It teaches them to respect those that help raise them in the community. But I never understood why this should be the job of priestesses. A warrior knows discipline better."

A sensation of sharp pain filled my backside next. I grunted and growled at her. This was not what I remembered from childhood. Her hand had collided with my bottom with all the force of someone trying their best to break the skin. I inhaled quietly and convinced myself I could endure this and remain composed.

Then another sensation burst across the other cheek, rippling outward. I jerked forward, as if attempting to escape, but she had me by the rope around my wrists. My legs began to shake a little. I turned to look at her, my eyes pleading for pity. She met my gaze with something stern and pitiless.

"Does it hurt?" she mocked me. "Remember that then before you decide to disobey me again like you did tonight. This first time will be very painful. It's how you'll learn."

I growled again and kicked my feet on the bed as she delivered another blow. Quickly, she shoved my feet down and held them there until I stopped kicking. She warned me I would be in even worse trouble if I got violent or fought my way free.

My composure was beginning to crack as well. The next strike against my ass stung so much I know my voice broke. I dug my fingers into her hand holding my wrists. To my shock, she completely let go, only to place her entire muscular arm against my back, the elbow touching my head, and then she pressed down hard. My face mashed into the blanket while she dealt five rapid smacks to my behind that burned like fire afterwards.

I fell limp in her lap and she resumed her position, holding me by the wrists with one hand and the other holding down my legs right below the buttocks. I began to twitch and my voice broke more with every gasp and moan.

"When you fall asleep tonight with your ass bruised and aching," she growled to me, "I want you to be thankful you get to sleep here at all. And I want you to tell yourself, 'Never again. I will never disrespect her wishes again.'"

I would like to say I toughened up and earned her respect then and there. As noted, though, I was in no position to lie. She spanked me over her lap like a rebellious child, and I could not hold back tears. I lost count of how many times her hand struck me, but I did not fail to notice that she did not stop once I started crying. It was as if she'd been waiting for just the right moment, and I suspect that moment came when I was marked enough to her satisfaction, which was not long after I began repeating to myself exactly what she had said.

For a while, I nearly forgot where I was. Then it started coming back to me, like I was emerging out of a haze. My body jumped and I gasped softly when her hand touched my bare bottom again. This time it was not to beat me, only to feel me. I had questioned if the warrior woman felt any attraction to me before now. It was difficult to tell even when taken over her lap to be spanked, but this told me there was something there. And even more amazingly, it made me realize just how much attraction I felt to her.

Her hand cupped my left buttock, squeezing gently. I whimpered at the pain and curled my body slightly around hers as she put her other hand on my head. Slowly, she spread my legs apart with her left hand and reached between them. She closed her palm and fingers around my balls with firm pressure. As I raised my butt up to give more space for her hand, the sound I let out was delicate enough to make me blush.

"I like you, boy," she stated plainly. "You're not afraid to be soft. To come crawling even when you don't quite know why."

She caressed me with her fingers, teasing, squeezing, and pulling. Even though my ass hurt significantly and all I wanted was to put something comfortable against it, I resolved to ignore the pain and please her.

"I know what people say of me," she went on. "I'm sure you do, too. I've had men go searching for me before, either planning to fight me or domesticate me. But not you. You came to me as if you were already waiting for the leash."

Thinking on what she was saying, the idea terrified and excited me immensely at the same time. I imagined rising up on the bed, struggling to break free of the restraints on me. No sooner had this picture formed in my head than I imagined another: shoved back down with the weight of her body against mine as she'd climb on top of me. And the thrill of this fantasy would linger.

Aloisa let go of me, picked up my legs, and got off the bed. She grabbed me by the wrists and lowered me down to my knees on the floor. For the first time, I was given a good view of her. A chance to look upon her with no interruptions, no dangers, and no obstructions. She caught my jaw between her thumb and finger as it dropped open.

The light flickering from the candles cast her perfect naked figure in a beautiful golden glow, while shadows obscured the rest, giving her the proper image of the frightening warrior that she was. Earlier, I had witnessed her kill several men. I had felt her lift me onto her shoulder like I was nothing. Now, all that occupied my mind was a yearning to be at her feet, to bathe her taut form in a shower of affection.

"You don't need to say anything, soft boy," she spoke to me. "Show me."

Aggressively, she thrust her hand into the back of my hair and pulled me towards her. I had but a split second to shed my insecurities and fears, then my lips were pressed to her abdomen. Inside me, something exploded. I began kissing and licking her body frantically. Above me, I heard laughter. A moment later, the laughter transitioned into the wonderful sounds of Aloisa's ecstatic sighs and moans.

I had not even noticed when she removed her hand from my head. I continued kissing and licking down her stomach, her hips, her thighs, and her legs. All the way until I wound up at her feet. Listening to her make noise above, I had every motivation I needed to keep going, back up her legs, thighs, and hips. When I came too close to where I was not yet allowed, she grabbed me by the hair and set me back on my knees.

"You'll have to really earn that privilege. I do think you've earned something, though. You'd like your collar, wouldn't you?"

 

"Yes," I said bashfully.

In a sense, this was the point of no return. She had stripped me of my belongings, taken me in, and already marked me as hers in her own way. But in my eyes, the collar stood for something more, like it would mean submitting to an entirely new life. Perhaps I had crossed that line hours ago. Even so, when she brought the leather collar to me and fastened it around my neck, I understood its importance. I understood that I now belonged to the warrior.

"There's something else I'd like to show you," she told me with a grin.

A brief minute later and she returned with a small wooden box taken from behind one of the weapon racks. She knelt down and placed it on the chair next to us, opening the lid with a look of wild excitement shining on her face. What she took out of it was a long cylindrical solid object colored a beautiful gray shade of white.

"This is something I carved out of antler bone. I was taught how to make one of these by an old friend. It's... well, I use it on myself. But now that I have you..."

I gave her a confused look. Why was she showing me this if she meant... Then it hit me. My eyes must have bulged in my head, because immediately she picked up on what I was thinking. Aloisa smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes!" she said in a pleased voice. "Now I can use it on you."

Before I could protest, she took my head with one hand and pushed the bone object into my mouth. I made a muffled noise of sheer humiliation, which produced a trickle of delightful giggles from her. Deeper she pushed it until my mouth was wide open and I was staring meekly into her eyes.

"That's it," she cheered me on. "Give yourself to me, slave."

Truth be told, knowing where this toy of hers had been made having it in my mouth a wickedly lovely prospect. I had not realized how badly I wanted to taste her, know her intimately, and yield to her. It did not bother me that the shape of it was very obviously phallic. I wanted to win her trust in whatever way I could.

She set the bone phallus on the chair and took me by my wrists, guiding me up off my knees and over to the chain in the middle of the tent. Pushing me forward, she then raised my hands up to where the chain hung. Looping and tightening it around my wrists, she secured the free end of the chain to a hook on the crossbeam. When all was said and done, I found myself bent over at a near ninety degree angle.

Her hands touched the bruises on my bare ass, squeezing each cheek possessively. I heard her walk to another part of the room, followed by the rustling of her digging for something. Next, I looked up and saw her coming in front of me, holding a belt in her hands. She picked up her toy off the chair and put it through a space in the belt before pulling the straps around herself and tightening them well.

"I've never had the chance to do this with a man," she said to me. "Or a boy. But I've imagined it many times."

Aloisa stopped and stood with her hands on her hips in front of me. She may have been waiting to hear my impressions, or she may have simply been enjoying the sight of me bound and bent over for her use. It could even have been that she was looking between my legs at my erect penis. I, meanwhile, could only stupidly gawk at her until my lips uttered the crudest approximation of what was on my mind.

"Wow," I squeaked out.

The warrior woman knelt down face to face with me, put both hands around my head, and kissed me so the breath left my lungs. Frankly, I barely understood what I was doing that kept pleasing her, but I was glad to find it earned her favor. I had not questioned why she wanted this. She seemed to know it would be a new and intense experience for me. Even in the silence, though, there was a kind of mutual understanding. I was naked, very nervous, feeling exceptionally vulnerable, and yet I was not scared.

At my backside, she pushed my legs apart. I took a deep breath, the sound of which filled the air, as her big strong hands each touched one of my cheeks. She spread them apart firmly and I felt her body pressing into mine. The toy attached to her belt had been coated in something warm and oily, which helped her slide it into my anus with little resistance.

For a brief moment, it hurt. I wanted to whine to her, ask that she might go slower. Then her hands clenched around my aching buttocks, reminding me how she deals with misbehavior. Yet her hands were not merely inflicting pain, they were enjoying me. It was as if she was telling me that my ass was no longer my own. She would use it as she pleased. She would molest it as she pleased.

I forgot about the hurting as she pushed into my anus. Quickly, she went in and I let out a helpless moan. Thinking about how she had wasted no time with me, I felt myself getting harder and harder. I heard her voice in my head: You were just hoping to be taken by me, boy, and now you will be.

She fondled my ass without mercy as she thrust her bone cock into me. What pain came to me was overshadowed by the abiding fascination I felt with her. Knowing she would not relent just to spare me. Feeling her amuse herself with me in every grab, grope, and squeeze. Hearing her groan and sigh from the darkness behind, as she penetrated me over and over.

I wondered if she remembered what I'd told her. What had slipped out in why I couldn't go home. What she did now was aggressive, controlling, and dominating. It seemed like she would not have taken no for an answer. But how I felt safe with her. How I admired her all the more for not treating me as fragile, for not denying herself what she wanted from me.

Then her hands took me by the waist and I lost composure. Just like when she spanked me to tears, I let go of something I'd been clinging to. I began gasping, moaning, and sighing in what felt like the most degrading sense. Holding me like that, she moved her pelvis onto me in a pumping motion, as if she sensed my sensitivity. Out came even more humiliating noises, one after the other, until she had to speak up.

"Not so loud, boy," she teased me. "We don't want to wake up the rest of these woods. I would hate to be interrupted from fucking your pretty ass."

My mind danced on those words. That's what it was? Fucking my ass. My pretty ass, she called it. She likes fucking my pretty ass. A smile appeared on my face, and grew wider at what she said next.

"From the sound of it, you'd hate being interrupted, too."

"Y-yes," I weakly stumbled out.

I felt her hands tighten around my waist. She pushed into my ass harder and I bent forward. Practically dragging my bottom half back towards her, she held me still and went on fucking me.

"That pleases me," she encouraged. "I believe I'll be fucking your ass a lot. I like seeing you take it for me, and you take it well."

Aloisa's hands left my bare butt and I heard the chain rattle above. It moved behind me as I was pulled to a tense, uncomfortable position. The warrior woman continued pounding away at me, though, now holding me still by the chain. A stuttered, low groan came from somewhere inside me.

"Your bottom jiggles nicely for me, boy."

My cheeks turned red. I grew quiet and arched my back a little more. She reacted by taking my hair in her fist with her other hand, then giving it to my ass violently while I had nowhere to go and no room to budge. I pictured her eyes enjoying my ass as it would bounce up and down to the rhythm of her thrusts.

Her cock was unforgivingly hard. She had whittled it down to a smooth, flawless surface, but the bone itself was no softer as thick as it was. Once she had loosened me up, there was no keeping her out. I became louder and louder again, until she released my hair and covered my mouth with her hand.

By the time she was done with me, my legs were shaking and I knew that the instant she unhooked me from the chain, I would be on the floor. Slowly, she pulled out. Then to my surprise, Aloisa put her chest to my back and extended her long, tough arms around my body, one hand across my chest and up to my neck, and the other descending down my stomach to my genitals. Her teeth gently bit at my neck with her head down next to mine.

And then as I was freed from the chain holding me up, I collapsed on the floor. Just as I rolled over to my back, she put her foot on my chest and pressed me down. There she proudly stood for a moment, reveling in her position over me. I was prepared to yield as much to her insatiable desires as I could. So when she crouched down, held each of my legs apart with her hands, and entered me again, I put my head back and gasped for her.

"Look at me!" she ordered, and I did.

The firelight shone fierce in her eyes. I lost myself in her gaze for some time. We could have been there fucking in the dirt like that for minutes or hours or days and I would not have known the difference. When I came to, she was still at it, leaning over me and now untying the rope around my wrists. As it fell off beneath me, I pulled my hands out and hesitated.

Aloisa took me by the waist and sat up, lowering me into her lap and onto her cock again. I studied her eyes nervously, unsure what this meant. Her hands groped my beaten ass and I moaned as she touched the bruises. Carefully, I put my hands out and felt her arms. She smiled back at me. I moved up to her shoulders, feeling the muscles and developing a heavy sense of inferiority to her. My fingers tangled with her wild red hair, and examined her face as if I was still finding it hard to believe she was real.

Rapidly, her hands ran up my back and one landed against my head as she drew me to her. I relaxed into her and she kissed me, her tongue pushing my lips aside to enter my mouth. I shuddered in her arms and she laughed.

"Not such a dumb one after all," she played with me. "Not when you have someone to lead you. Protect you."

I fell with my head against her shoulder and my arms around her. In surprise, she took her hands away for a second. Then she embraced me again, tight and tenderly.

"Submit," she whispered, stroking my hair. "Obey. Earn my trust. Everything will be better that way. You are where you belong now, slave."

She helped me out of her lap and instructed me to unstrap her toy and belt. I quietly followed her direction and put her things away when asked. Then I crawled to her as she sat on the edge of her chair. She opened her legs and motioned for me to come. I pressed my face between her rock solid thighs, extending my tongue as much as I could until I heard her moan.

I lapped up her wetness, kissed the lips of her vagina, and licked from one end to the other. When I found the spot she preferred, her hand grabbed my head and held me still. Between my own legs, I was stiff as stone. I would've loved and praised her if she allowed me release, but I knew better than to expect it. Instead, I threw myself into worshiping her, thanking her for the kindnesses she had already shown me.

When she achieved release, she shouted and forced my head onto her.

"Lick!" she growled. "Clean it. Every last drop."

I stuck my tongue out and licked everywhere I could find. Her breathing got light and pleasant, though her body tensed up at times. After a few minutes, she pushed my face away, bent over, and locked lips with me, biting just enough to crack the skin. I was then pushed backwards onto the bed, where she climbed down to join me.

"Not bad, boy," she said, catching her breath. "Perhaps bringing you here was the right idea."

I laid my head on her shoulder and put an arm around her.

"Don't make me regret untying you. Even though we fuck, you're still mine. I won't hesitate to punish you. Or kick your ass out."

She left my arm where it was. I could feel her pulse beat a little faster.

"Go blow the candles out and return to bed," she commanded.

I got up, rubbing my behind as I went to the first candle and extinguished it. I felt her eyes watching me in the dim light.

"How does that feel?" Aloisa questioned me as I blew out another candle.

Only one small flame was left now, located just a few feet from the bed. I walked over to it, seeing the faint outline of her body reclined comfortably on her side, as if she was beckoning me. I thought for a moment and then answered her.

"Every part of it reminds me of you. At first, I wanted to beg you to stop. Now, I..."

"Yes?"

I blew out the last candle and got into bed. Her hand quickly found my ass and began caressing it as I laid next to her.

"I feel wanted. Claimed."

This time, she brought my head to her shoulder herself. A sense of inexplicable gratitude filled me. To think I had wandered off from home, following this mysterious woman, and wound up here. It seemed like fate, but it just as well seemed like an incredible act of trust on her part. It hadn't come without consequences, though I was even grateful for those. As my mind kept rambling, she broke the silence.

"Shhh. It's late. Shut your eyes."

* * * * *

Greywall was behind me now. What lay ahead was unlike anything I had ever dreamed. It is no small feat to chronicle my service to Aloisa in this manner, but I feel compelled to do so. Many things have been said of her in the time she has wandered these lands, and almost all fail to do her justice. She may care not for the rumors and slander of lesser men. I, however, care for her, and I write this account as a reminder to myself. Though perhaps some day it will find another audience, one who will come to a new realization of who this red-haired warrior from the steppes truly is, and why I have found myself glad to be called her captive.