The First Tribe (9 page)

Marel lifted the girl’s head and slid the top slat of the table away. Sabra’s head dropped down and her arms hung in the air, with her wrist cuffs attached to the table legs. Marel clapped her hands. “Move it, old beast. You know what I need.”

Mauraucht brought her the bilap stamen. Here was the true sweet essence of the tree, contained in a hollow tubular stem. It was an inch in circumference and ten inches long.

“Oh… oh, Dasheen,” Sabra hissed, wiggling her hips and pushing against the rod.

Marel pressed the stamen against the girl’s lips. Sabra tasted the sweet bilap and stroked out with her tongue for more juice. Marel fed the stamen into her mouth. The husk was pliable, yet sturdy. The girl would not be able to bite through it the way Fistas’ fangs could. Her teeth marks would still scar the skin of the tube, so Marel would be able to punish her.

The girl was sucking on the stem, trying to get more sap. Marel pushed deeper and the slave’s stomach gripped. “Open your throat, girl. Think of the sweet bilap filling your belly,” Marel encouraged.

Sabra felt the plant push against the back of her throat and she panicked. Her stomach retched and she could not breath. Still, the woman pushed deeper. The comforting words meant nothing. Sabra could not breathe. A hand caressed her breast and she pushed her sensitive nipple towards the touch. It distracted her just long enough for Marel to thrust the stamen past the obstacle and she watched Sabra’s neck swell.

Sabra’s hair brushed the floor and she opened her eyes to see Marel’s upside down knees. She had not realized her head was hanging and swinging freely. She screamed behind the gag, inhaling breaths through her nose when she could. Marel kept it lodged deep, until the girl figured it out and settled down.

She reached down and played with Sabra’s clit, distracting her further. Marel heard the slave’s muffled shriek, and her hips began a frantic thrusting. It was not long before she had learned to breathe around the stem. Marel began plunging the bilap while she brought the girl to climax.

Three, was Marel’s magic number. Each new experience took three days to train. Sabra learned that she could have the sweet taste of bilap as long as she allowed the stem down her throat. The tilipa knob was kept at the entrance to her channel, and a drop of fistal oil had her thrusting against it and dreaming of Dasheen.

One morning, Sabra was led from her cage and spread on the standing frame. The tilipa knob was secured to her thighs with a generous coating of oil. She fought the urge to push down on the spindle.

Marel moved the flaming hair to the front so it covered one of the slave’s breasts. She held out her hand, and Mauraucht handed her the cane. The old Fisba had already hidden a lotion with temur crushed into it to treat the welts when Marel left.

The Fisba had their own legends. Their recipes were handed down from the very first to be captured, when the Fisba roamed the forests freely. The herbs and plants they sought brought only pleasure of relief. They had been a peaceful tribe, content in their forest hideaways. They discovered how the fistal increased passion and how the temur relieved pain. The pungent odor could be masked by the fistal petals. Mauraucht felt a primal yearning whenever she worked with the potions.

Sabra felt the burning lash of the cane whip across her bottom. “Aah… oh… oh… oh, Dasheen,” she wailed. She did not see Marel’s pleased smile.

“Think of Dasheen,” Marel encouraged. “As soon as your desire has erupted, the caning will end.” She whipped the cane across the girl’s shoulders, watching the pink line turn to red and raise. “Dasheen,” Marel reminded her.

Sabra sobbed and shuddered in pain. She rubbed her slit along the tipila knob and coated her slit with oil. Even through the agony, she worked the rod deeper, plunging in and out by bending her knees slightly and pushing up to her toes.

Marel lashed her three more times, leaving bruising welts on her pale skin. The girl was whimpering her son’s name, lost in passion while she impaled herself. Her eruption was swift and explosive, and Marel watched her juices travel down her thighs.

By the third day, she was caning the girl’s front. There was a perfect aim across both nipples, and lines reddened her belly and sex lips. The slave was still able to lose herself in passion, with thoughts of Dasheen on her mind. She was ready. Marel looked across the room, and the other two Kirabi women nodded.

The old Fistas noticed their agreement. Mauraucht whispered, “It is time.”

Everyone made excuses not to be wandering the settlement. They had sequestered themselves in private meetings in various glades and tents. The leaders discussed how to hasten the training to get their hands on the Vastara slaves.

The beast riders were already forming the opinion that they would steal the women back. They were discussing where they could go and what would happen if the other Kirabi followed them.

The women were planning one of the final stages to their scheme. It required the help of the younger women, and it took heated discussion to convince them.

The most interesting meeting was held in the slave camp, not far from where Aucht was sacrificed. “You can do this, Chaucht? You remember the way?” Mauraucht asked.

“I do, grandmother.”

“Dasheen should be busy with his own plans. We can make excuses as to why he can’t find you.”

“I have been sending Niael to him. He is so distracted by his Vastara that he has not noticed. I have instructed her on what pleases him,” Chaucht answered, pleased that even the young women of their tribe had devised a way to help.

A Jueger man stepped forward, brushing his hands down the long fur on his thighs. His brown, syrupy eyes stared out from a mask of hair. “I will be going with you, Chaucht. I will stay on the far side of the meadow.”

Chaucht looked towards her grandmother. “It may be too great a risk, Plesan.”

“We all look alike to them, and with all the commotion they will not know that I am missing. Chaucht will need someone to carry extra nayello flasks across the desert, and I can make a simple tarp to keep us shaded.” Plesan looked back at his tribe, and then he whispered to Mauraucht, “Please. It is all we can think to do to help. We need to be a part of this.”

Mauraucht realized the man’s honor was at stake. She rasped loudly, “Thank you, Juegers. Our entire plan will fail if Chaucht succumbs to the dry sea.”

Chaucht and Plesan began their journey north that very night, while the Kirabi were still devising their schemes against each other.

Chapter VII

Marel cornered Dasheen around noon the next day. “Can you bring your friends to the quarters? We are having a problem with your slaves and could use your help.”

If Dasheen was thinking with the head on his shoulders, he would have realized his mother would never ask for help from a man. All he could think of was seeing Sabra again. He did not even notice Marel had referred to her as ‘his’ slave. She was contriving and keeping the bond and need strong in her son.

The men were there so quickly that Marel barely had time to tell the trainers their plan was beginning. The men found their little Vastara spread on the frames, with welts bruising their pale skin. “You whipped her?” Dasheen asked in disbelief.

“She’s a slave, Dasheen. And we didn’t whip them. We used the canes,” Marel answered. They were much more painful and she noticed his wince. “Besides, she has learned to enjoy it. Watch.”

Marel walked up to Sabra and ran her hands over her. It gave her time to spread the oil coating her belly onto the tipila rod. She stroked a quick flick of a drop across her clit and whispered, “Dasheen is here. Show him your passion, girl.”

Sabra had been kept so mindless with desire and thoughts of the beast rider that her channel leaked when she looked into his dark eyes. “Dasheen,” she whispered.

Dasheen’s cock stiffened immediately when he saw the passion in her eyes while she spoke his name and gazed at him. He walked closer and clenched his fists on the table while his mother began lashing the girl. She rode the tipila to an orgasm that made him groan. All the while, she called his name.

While Sabra was gasping with her head hung forward, Marel walked to her son. “I have taught her with the bilap, Dasheen, but I fear Vison’s reaction should she nick him with a tooth. She seems to have an… affection… for you, and I think it would be best to practice with your cock, instead of your father’s.”

The ultimate plan had never been to let the Vastara near the leaders, but Marel knew that if they thought they would benefit from possession of the slaves it would keep them too preoccupied with impending lust to spoil her plans. “You will do this for your father?” Marel saw the brief flash of anger in his eyes.

“I do not wish to be used in a way that Sabra will despise me. Is that your true plan, mother?”

It had not occurred to her that he would consider
that
sort of ruse. “No, Dasheen. I suppose I could ask another young beast rider, or perhaps take the chance with Vison. The last Fista that nipped him had her fangs ripped out.” Marel turned back towards Sabra, dismissing her son.

Dasheen pictured blood on Sabra’s chin and an accusing look in her green eyes because he had not helped her avoid punishment. “No. No, I will help you. If they had allowed us to keep them, this wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Dasheen, the slave is lost to your father. If this is going to make that decision more difficult for you to accept…”

“I’m fine,” Dasheen answered quickly. If Sabra had not already been compromised by his father, there was a chance they could get the slaves out of the settlement unscathed. By the cold winds of Flagar, he did not want
another
beast rider using his cock on her.

Marel had Dasheen sit on a low stool. She released Sabra and pushed her to her knees in front of him. Her whispers were low in Sabra’s ear, and Dasheen could not hear what she was saying.

“Just like the bilap, Sabra. If you worship Dasheen, he will remember you. Just think of the bilap, girl.” Marel kept a hand stroking through the girl’s hair while the other hand reached under to stroke her slit. She had brushed the fistal oil on the girl’s bottom, and the girl was soon rocking into her hand. “Sabra, you must untie his laces,” she encouraged.

Sabra’s wary eyes looked up at Dasheen. There was a fiery passion in their black depths that made her almost forget it was the Kirabi woman’s hand that was pleasuring her.

Dasheen reached out and caressed her cheek. He also ignored his mother’s presence. “You are so beautiful, Sabra.” She smiled up at him.

“The laces,” Marel whispered.

Sabra looked down at the tight breeches. She remembered when Dasheen had to tell her the mystery of opening the lacing on his boots. Her trembling fingers searched for the ends and she pulled. Her fingers worked the thatching open, and she stared at his swollen organ.

Marel watched in fascination as her son stared at the girl’s fingers while she brushed the tips across his crown. His cock was leaking in anticipation, and Marel was curious as to why Dasheen had not already gripped her flame hair and pushed himself into her.
He knows she is trained. Why does he wait?

Sabra reached her tongue out. The liquid was salty and warm. It was not unpleasant, but it was also not bilap. Her mouth covered the tip, and she thought how soft his skin was. It was nothing like the bronze muscles of his arms and chest. She stiffened when his hand rested on her head, but when he began gently threading his fingers through her waves, she sighed in contentment and explored more of his cock.

Her tongue swept faster, and she felt him grow larger and quiver. Her hands had been resting on his thighs and she moved them to wrap around his shaft. Her thumb brushed against curls and softer flesh, and Sabra discovered his sack. By the invigorated fingers in her hair rubbing her scalp, she decided he liked this very much.

Marel let the girl seduce her son for several minutes, and then she slowly withdrew to sit on the table. Dasheen’s eyes were closed… Sabra’s as well, no doubt… and Marel was pleased with the strong bond.

“Do you suppose it was ever like that with us?” Salar asked.

Marel had not heard her walk over. She turned to the room and saw that all the pairs were experiencing a dynamic tryst. “Maybe when First Tribe was created,” Marel answered. She would never trade her dominance for the submissive role, but she could appreciate the looks of desire and passion the union created.

“When do you think they will try to escape?” Salar realized it was imminent. It was the only solution that would keep the beast riders with their slaves.

“We are fabricating the need for a two day celebration beginning tomorrow night. The young Kirabi women have already begun to seduce the beast riders,” Marel replied.

“So I noticed,” Salar sneered. With very little effort, Kirabi men were drooling after the girls, without questioning why they would suddenly take interest in them.

Dasheen’s hands fisted in Sabra’s hair and he groaned, lifting his hips off the seat. “That’s it,” Marel whispered. “They only get a taste of their little slaves.”

Salar grinned. “I’d say it was the slaves that are getting the taste.”

Sabra’s throat worked frantically to gulp down the unexpected fluid that spurted into her mouth. When it finally stopped, she sat back on her heels, swiping across her lips with the back of her hand and watching his cock wither. She looked up, and she was relieved to see him breathing hard but smiling at her. “I don’t know how to tie it up again,” she said.

Sabra curled up in her cage, closing her eyes and thinking of Dasheen and the pleased look on his face while Mauraucht applied ointment to her welts. “He likes me, I think.”

“More than that,” Mauraucht answered. “He is enthralled with his little fire slave.”

“Will Chaucht be terribly upset?” Sabra remembered the woman bringing her the first taste of bilap.

Mauraucht was silent for a moment, thinking of her granddaughter. Chaucht and Plesan should be almost across the desert. “She’ll be just fine with it, Sabra.”

Vison stormed in the next morning, and Sabra gasped at the anger in his eyes. “Why am I just hearing of some festival you women have arranged? There has been no tribunal to discuss this.
Two
days, Marel? What could be so important?”

Marel replied in an icy tone, “You are interrupting my training, Vison.”

“Answer me, woman. The leaders should have been told. Bentil learned of this from a Kirabi youth. A
youth
, Marel. The boy has not even claimed a banta and the title beast rider, and yet he knows of your festival.”

Good. Word has spread quickly.
Marel knew the men would plan their escape that night.

Sabra watched, and her mouth dropped open when Marel’s face completely changed. Gone were the harsh cruel lines around her eyes, and it looked like desire was filling them. Even her jaw, usually tight with determination, loosened so that her lips looked softer and fuller.

Marel turned and placed her hands on Vison’s shoulders. “I apologize, Vison. The news was so grand that we had not considered asking for a vote. We knew everyone would want to know.”

Vison looked into her sultry eyes.
Damn the woman.
He would rather fight a dozen bantas than try to fight his desire for her. “Know what? What is so grand?”

“The Vastara’s,” Marel said. She leaned close to his ear so her lips brushed the shell, and she felt him quiver. “They have agreed to help us capture the tribe.” Marel knew it had to be so grand it was ridiculous, but the dual distraction between finally being seduced by their women and the promise of a long awaited capture would
keep
the men celebrating for two days.

Vison looked at Sabra. “This is true?” The girl was lost in a world of arousal, thrusting against a well-oiled knob.

Marel turned his head to focus on her again. “It is true, Vison. These women say their spirits do not want to live in the cold shadows. They will convince their philosophers to ask to rejoin First Tribe, and then we can take them.”

Vison smiled at the malicious plan. “We will let them think we are letting them join as an equal faction. Yes… yes, I can see how this will work. No one imagined they would last so long in the cold winters.” He pulled Marel against him. “Our plan is perfect.”

Marel rolled her eyes. She pushed gently away from where he had been crushing her face into his shoulder. “I just knew you would be pleased, Vison.”

When he left, and Salar laughed. “
Our
plan? Did he just say the leaders were taking credit for this folly?”

Marel smiled. “I hope they do. Imagine how they will look when the entire plan collapses.” Marel walked over to Sabra and removed the rod. “That’s enough for you. You need to rest for tonight.”

Sabra had no idea what she was talking about, but she was grateful to be locked into her cage again. She fell asleep within minutes.

“Come, Kirabi. We need to prepare for tonight.” Marel turned to the Fisba. “We will not return for two days. Keep the slaves fed and watered.”

“Yes, Marel.” Mauraucht knew she was told this so if Dasheen and his men showed up that would be the answer she would give. It amazed her how conniving the Kirabi woman was. She looked over to the other two Fistas. “All that smart and superior air about them, and they never figured out we listen to everything they say.”

“Our victory is coming soon, Mauracht.”

Mauracht thought again of Chaucht. She hoped their travel was going well… and quickly.

When the Fisba left the tent for dinner, there was already revelry throughout the settlement. Slaves were running platters of food to the Kirabi and sexual encounters were abundant. Mauraucht narrowed her eyes. The Kirabi women sat by the men, whispering and stroking with their hands, but it was still the slaves performing the acts of sexual gratification for the beast riders.

She looked around and did not see a single one of the Kirabi that would be stealing the slaves… except Jarung.
Have to do something about that,
she decided. If he went in search of Dasheen or Masan, the whole scheme could come unraveled. A familiar woman walked up beside her.

“He could be a problem,” Niael said. “Perhaps I should keep him occupied. Dasheen certainly won’t be calling for me.”

Mauraucht was relieved that Niael had offered her services. She ate with the older Fisbas and they discussed the upcoming schemes. “It is like spokes of a wheel. Everyone is contriving different directions, yet we are all joined together in the middle and on the edges.”

“Will the Kirabi ever figure it out?”

Mauraucht shrugged her hunched shoulders. “It will be too late, if they do. They will never think it was us. We are much to ‘feebleminded’.” The Fista women laughed quietly.

Mauraucht shuffled back to the quarters. She slid a bowl of fruit into the cage and handed Sabra the nayello flask of doctored water. Sabra had been listening to the commotion outside. “What is happening?”

“The Kirabi are about to make a big sacrifice. They have no idea just how big.”

When Mauraucht would not explain further, Sabra leaned against the bars and listened to the laughter outside her tent. It was deep into the night when the sounds began to die down. The tent flap opened, and Sabra could see the shadow of beast riders coming into the tent.

Oh, Mother. They have celebrated and are coming for us.
Sabra worked herself into a panic, convinced Vison’s hands would be groping for her.

“Calm yourself, girl,” Mauraucht whispered. “All is well.”

The man squatted down in front of her and began unlocking her cage. “Sabra? It’s Dasheen. You must be very quiet. We are leaving this place.”

“Dasheen? Oh, Mother of Life. I knew you would come for me.”

“Quiet, Sabra. If anyone hears, they will stop us and punish us both.”

Sabra took his hand, and she turned and whispered to the shadow in the corner. “Be well, Mauraucht. Be happy.”

Palla and Anali were just as relieved to be leaving with their beast riders. Dasheen held Sabra’s hand and pulled her through the woods. The group stopped in the tipila glade where they had held Seela’s ritual. The small area was filled with banta and beast riders, and their stolen slaves.

Sabra walked over to Seela. There was nothing but bones. It was a little soon for her to have been cleaned so completely. When she turned, she was staring directly into Shiru’s golden eyes. Dasheen said, “Sorry about that. We had to leave them unattended to come get you.”

Sabra smiled. “Oh no, Dasheen. All is well. Now we have Seela and her strong belief with us.”