The Great Escape Chapter 16, Part 7 of 12

The Great Escape
Chapter 16, Part 7 of 12

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 the clothes and a fresh bucket of water to wash up the cooking pots. She left Wildchild working and helped the other Juniors until the councilors were catered for, and it was time for them to enjoy their dinner in the kitchen.

Now, Wildchild has adequately met Jenna and Preeda. They thought she was shy and a little introverted, though Hazel couldn't wait to get them alone and tell them that Wildchild was a bit of a mystery girl with her horse, man's clothes, and 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 councilors.

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

"Samothea Galateas daughter 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 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 like 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, relying on her natural charm and intelligence to protect her privacy.

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

Archery practice was always an open invitation to all the Cloners, many of whom had bows, though they never went hunting. The word was sent throughout the city, and those councilors 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 centers of the targets.

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

It allowed three shots each, and most of the archers hit the target, but only a few arrows hit the bull's eye. Even fewer penetrated the thick leather. Many just bounced off. Wildchild joined the end of a queue. When 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 around Wildchild. If they meant to intimidate her, it didn't work. She tightened the leather arm strap 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 slowly, closing one eye to make a final adjustment, and loosened 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 and wanting to see her arrows.

"Well done, Samothea!" Gloria was 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 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 councilors 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."

Wildchild was about to say "rabbits" but stopped herself. She didn't want to say that she'd visited the White Mountains or boast about her adventures to girls who had never 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 on her bed while Jenna and Preeda exchanged puzzled looks. Then, 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 of 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.

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

The following day 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 women and an indulgent smile or two. She didn't expect jealousy from Kalyndra, but the older girl seemed to resent Cressi's showing off and made some 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 seawater 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 campfire as the women drifted back into the camp for lunch. He heard a commotion. Two girls fought at the salt pans, pulling their hair and screaming.

It was Kalyndra and Cressi. The girls struggled together, but it wasn't even combat. Although
Cressi was fast and had sharp claws, and 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 and 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 manhandled 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, and 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 worst.

"So be it!" he said.

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

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 crisscrossed 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, "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 on her ropes. A bright red line crossed her chest. Her nipples throbbed. The pain was excruciating, yet when the pain abated, an intense 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 a more wet ache in her loins, more need for his domination and control. She refused to answer once more, craving punishment, aching for pain and 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 stiffest 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 proper 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 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 played with Cressi, as with Devon and you."

"Please, Ezra? I need this. I love you like nothing else in the world. I want to serve you. Please accept 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, and the resignation that he didn't want her complete 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.

"You can make your submission special," he went on, "by choosing a title to call me by you alone will use."

"I used to call you 'my chief,' but you never liked that."

"True. Try something else."

"May I call you 'Master'?"

It was more submission than Ezra desired, but it would make their relationship unique and satisfy Kalyndra. For a moment, he wondered which of them had the power in this relationship, but he left the question in his mind.

"You can call me 'Master,' and I will call you 'Pet.'"

That was good enough for her.

"Please, Master, kiss me."


To be continued