2 - Capture

More warriors arrived while I was held down naked except for fragments of my ruined flightsuit. With my hands tied behind my back, I couldn’t cover myself; the best I could do was clench my legs closed. Most of the new arrivals paid me no attention at all… But a few… Their eyes swept over my body, appraising me in an instant.

Jaxon stood talking with a group of seasoned warriors dressed in hardened leather. He gestured towards me, and they escorted him to me. Jaxon tried to avert his eyes as he approached, a small gesture of dignity that twisted something inside me. It reminded me of our shared Federated equality, but his gaze lingered on my exposed chest, then dipped lower, stirring a mix of betrayal and reluctant understanding. It was as if he, too, were unraveling. The strangers' leers stung, but Jaxon's gaze was far worse. It threatened to fracture the professional bond we'd built. Now I was just vulnerable flesh to him, a reminder of how quickly power could invert our roles. I tried to remind myself that I was a highly skilled intelligence officer, but being bound and exposed was the most humiliating experience of my entire life.

“This is your slave?” A warrior with hard-edge age lines etched across his face asked.

“Comrades, thank you. We will forever be in your debt for such help. Those bastards ambushed us in the dead of night. If it were not for your arrows, we’d be hostages of Lord Drayce and soon at his mercy. With utter respect, I am forever indebted to you…”

A younger warrior carrying the captured rifle followed the elder, who was speaking with Jaxon. The two young men looked nearly the same age, but without Federated technology, I knew the young warrior was barely an adult. Unlike Jaxon, who was well into his thirties, with a full military career behind him.

“You carry yourself in a manner similar to Drayce.”

Jaxon’s brow knitted, “We are from the same lands, far over the horizon. We’ve come to capture him and bring him to justice.”

“We?” the elder warrior asked and looked around.

“My partner and I.”

The elder's eyes narrowed, “Your slave? She means to help you capture a wizard?”

I cringed inside. Our shared ideals of equality clashed against this world's brutal hierarchy. We were no longer equals. I was just a woman stripped of agency while he navigated the charade.

"Master…" I forced out. The word tasted bitter, but I was hoping to jog his memory of this world's cruel script, only for a sharp slap to jolt me. Pain blooming not just on skin, but in the pit of my stomach, a reminder of silenced voices.

Jaxon, to his credit, recovered somewhat smoothly… He smiled, delayed on the left side by a fraction of a moment, then cleared his throat. Two minor telltale signs that he was juggling stories in his head. I was thankful he didn’t look away from the warrior. That was a saving grace.

He eased back into the conversation smoothly, “She helps in her own way. They ambushed… Me. They took my gear, my woman. I fought them longer than I care to count… There were six, however…” he gave a sly smile through busted lips. “You gave me a second chance. That means something where I come from. His men meant to use my property…”

The elder warrior’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he slapped Jaxon on the shoulder.  “As is their right. If she were their property and not yours, we would now be enjoying her charms already... Perhaps as a gesture of gratitude, you might consider rewarding some of our younger warriors…”

"She is my slave…" Jaxon gushed, the words halting as if they choked him, “And I’ve yet to fully claim her charms myself, to shape her to my needs… Yet. Help me keep her, and I'll help you keep your lands from Drayce.” Jaxon was struggling to find a way of denying what would be an otherwise perfectly reasonable request for the men on this world.

The elder warrior considered this, looking to his younger counterpart carrying the rifle with reverent awe, “Is this your first slave, boy?”

“She is… And I am quite fond of her.”

A reluctant admiration stirred for Jaxon. His efforts to shield me from being traded like mere currency revealed his own internal war. Yet it left me aching, dependent on his fragile facade.

The elder warrior slapped Jaxon hard on the shoulder, “I remember my first. Took me nearly a year before I shared her with my closest friend. The clan thought I was a right selfish bastard.”

Jaxon nodded gravely then uttered, “Thank you…”

“And where is her collar?” The elder asked.

“They... I… Hadn’t the time to properly collar her yet on our journey.” Jaxon caught my gaze, and he blushed. I wanted to comfort him somehow. He was navigating this negotiation well, well enough that I would most likely be spared being passed around this evening. Admittedly, it was hard to cling to hope with my chest exposed, each breath a reminder of vulnerability, the cool air prickling skin that once felt armored in confidence.

“I saw no collar with her ruined clothes.” The man looming over me, the one with a heavy hand on my shoulder, keeping me down on my knees, said with a nod.

“No collar? Yet she is yours?”

“She is,” Jaxon said while clenching his fists. He was in no shape to fight. His face was a palette of bruises, including a mess of blood under his nose.

“Where are you from, boy, that you would travel other lands with a collarless slave?”

Jaxon teetered, perhaps psyching himself up for a fight.

“We come from a far-off land…” I blurted out. It earned me a sharp smack to the side of my face. I yelped, playing the helpless little thing, but really, the blow just pissed me off. I had a role to play, “Master, my apologies…”

The worry and concern in Jaxon’s eyes were endearing, but he risked letting these new warriors think he was soft. They could easily kill him and have me. But they spared us for some reason, the enemy of my enemy, perhaps. The threat of being passed among them, used by one after another until nothing of me remained, knotted my stomach into cold dread.

“She speaks the truth…” Jaxon blurted.

“And she speaks over you.” The elder said. “Best get your slut under control before another warrior challenges you for ownership. Like a bow, slaves need a firm hand to aim true.”

“Yes, sir. I will… Punish her for her outburst.”

“You can do so when you collar her.”

“Collar her? Of course…”

The elder stared dead even into Jaxon’s eyes. “In these lands, an uncollared girl is available for any man who chooses to use her.”

“Yes, I’ll collar her as soon as possible.”

“I’d suggest tonight,” the Elder said evenly. “A public display will inform the whole clan that she is not the spoils of war, but property of another. And you will be our guest for the evening.”

A seething hate coiled in me as they discussed me like property. Each word eroding the professional I was, leaving echoes of isolation in a world that reduced women to nothing. It was beginning to sound like we were being invited to join whatever camp they might be making tonight.

Jaxon looked relieved, but I could see he was pondering something.

“Do you know how to use that?” Jaxon asked quickly, nodding to the younger warrior.

The warrior with the rifle stiffened, then looked to the elder. The elder continued staring into Jaxon’s eyes.

“I can teach you. I will earn my keep to help you fight Drayce.”

The elder spoke slowly, “Prove it. Teach my son. If you lie, his arrow finds your throat.”

Without a blink, Jaxon answered, “Fair. Let’s do it.”

The elder warrior and Jaxon clasped hands, muscles flexing. His bro-act was crude but effective, barbarians respond to posturing like children to shiny toys. It was good that he was making inroads, given the situation, I’d be leaning into him a lot on the diplomatic front.

The elder warrior broke contact and waved Jaxon after him, “We need to leave immediately. The wizard will have more men, and they’ll be looking for us shortly.”

We were led down a rocky ridge and into a copse of pines. I was surprised at their military-like efficiency, they’d looted and rallied while another group brought horses around. My body ached, but I looked forward to the ride, it would be nice to finally have some personal space without being shoved around by a barbarous thug for a bit.

The elder warrior brought a horse to Jaxon, who made a couple of attempts to mount the animal but obviously had no idea what he was doing. The warriors seemed perplexed that a man didn’t know how to ride. Even the horse seemed annoyed and began stepping away whenever Jaxon tried to get up to the saddle. Another horse, a more docile one, I suppose, was brought, making the owner take a ride on one of the newly captured mounts. Another warrior was given the task of ponying Jaxon, holding his reins from another beast to help guide him.

I watched in horror as Jaxon was led away like a child on the back of his horse.

“Lift your arms.” I was told. Before I could comply, one was lifted for me as a rider guided his horse up to me. The rider leaned down, gripping me above the bicep and yanking me up and over the saddle. My squeal was answered with a sharp slap to my bare ass as I was laid across the horse in front of the rider. I tried not to dwell on my exposed curves pressed against the saddle. The friction igniting unwanted warmth, a betrayal that whispered of deeper fractures in my control.

A hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me down and keeping me in place. I could feel unimaginably firm muscles working under my bare skin with nothing but coarse hair between us. The horn of the saddle pressed painfully into my ribs as my legs dangled. Hearing a chorus of guffaws, I crossed my legs as shame burned hot across my skin. If I ever saw a recording of this from Jaxon's eyes, I’d probably die of shame on the spot.

We rode for hours. Every time I tried to express discomfort, I received another smack to the ass. There was nothing to do but ride quietly and uncomfortably into the night.

Finally, there was a flicker of torches ahead. As pitch-black lightened into flickering illumination, we entered a crude settlement of rough-hewn buildings. There were more voices, and I realized if nothing else, the darkness had at least covered my nudity. Now I was on display, bare ass and legs for all to see.

It was impossible to reach back and cover my cheeks. Moving my arms back to cover myself made me slip legs-first off the horse. The hand on my neck tightened, and he barked, “Stupid girl, get your hands over your head.” Before I could do anything, there was a series of blows along my thighs, making me squeal again and squirm. The hand on the back of my neck kept me from sliding off. Worse still, there was now laughter behind me, warriors watching and enjoying my struggles.

A pair of thick hands gripped my hips and pulled, and the man on the horse released me. I was lifted effortlessly and set on my feet. I rubbed my ass trying to work out the stinging swats, and turned to see a half dozen men watching bemusedly. Their eyes were all over me, and in shame, I bent hunching over and tried to cover myself. The man who’d pulled me down barked something at me and grabbed the hair at the back of my head. In one motion, he manhandled me into standing, practically dangling as I stretched up on tippy toes. My hands and arms were totally inadequate at covering my body, but I tried anyway as the crowd around me howled in laughter.

Indignation swelled, a silent scream against the injustice of being handled like baggage. Each jostle stripped away layers of my hard-won independence, leaving me raw. I was treated as less than an animal. All my years of school, university, agent training, and successful work, had been stripped away like my clothing. It left just a naked, squealing woman at the mercy of crude, barbaric men leering and laughing. I could do nothing to stop them.

“This is my slave,” Jaxon declared as he broke through the semi-circle of guffawing men. The one holding me released me with a shove, sending me crashing into my partner. I clutched at him desperately. I couldn’t shield my backside from view, so I pressed my bare chest against his. The smooth weave of his flight suit caressed my nipples, turning protection into another layer of exposure. The men laughed and cooed at the two of us. There were some rude comments, but I barely heard them, just glad to be at least partially covered.

Before Jaxon could say anything, the elder warrior was dragging us away, “Come, we have food, and can discuss this wizard of yours.” He dragged us from the leering men to a nearby building that seemed to be some sort of communal meeting place. There were crude tables and benches made of logs, with a large firepit in the center of the building.

The other warriors who’d rescued us were already eating chunks of bread and meat in clusters. The elder gestured to a half-empty table and guided Jaxon to take a seat. I moved to sit next to him, and the elder warrior hissed at me, “What are you doing, woman? Make yourself useful and fetch us food and drink.”

I looked imploringly at Jaxon, and he returned a hard look. With a gulp, he said, “Do as you're told…”

A moment passed as I blinked, looking down at my partner, the traitor. He was right, of course. We were supposed to blend in, and given the circumstances, that meant I needed to play my role. I was halfway through a curtsey and apology to my owner when the elder placed a wickedly painful slap on my bared ass.

“Go on, girl!” he barked at me. “Fetch us drink before I tan that hide.”

Jaxon cocked an eyebrow at me. I had a role to play. I gave a nod of my head and forced myself away from him, naked. Scanning the dining hall quickly, I spotted tables set together at the back. There were trays of food and casks laid out, and women filling mugs and piling food into shallow wooden dishes. I moved towards them, trying hard not to think about how utterly naked I was.

As I approached the buffet, I could see the women were dressed, but in gauzy materials that were mostly see-through. It was then that I noticed they were all wearing collars. One strutted past with a smirk, her gaze raking my form, lips curling in sisterly betrayal. Disgust masked her own fears of replacement in this unforgiving hierarchy. She breezed by without a word. The rest of the group was giving me sidelong glances as I approached.

As if my job wasn’t difficult enough. I was a Federated Agent, sent here with my partner to find a known criminal. I had to play the role of a slave, but under Jaxon’s protection, I thought it would be manageable. Instead, we’d been shot down, and things had spiraled out of control since. Now I had to deal with catty bitches who were going to challenge an outsider to their in-group. I forced my eyes down to the ground as I approached, trying to act as demure as possible.

The group turned, lining up in front of the tables as I approached. Their standoffish clustering screamed territorial instinct, a mirror to my own past rivalries, but here amplified by chains. I was an interloper who threatened their fragile security. I stopped before the group instead and gave a little curtsey. “Please… I only need to serve my master.”

“Your master?” one said with a sneer.

“Lying slut,” another added, “her neck is bare.”

“A feral girl, uncollared, but she looks well used.” Another said as the group snickered. I couldn’t imagine how soiled I must look after hours of riding.

“Please,” I replied, “I am taken, I will not threaten any of your houses with a new girl disrupting what is already yours…”

They seemed to chew on this, giving me enough time to slip through them and gather six mugs. I began filling the mugs with a glance over my shoulder. The slave girls had gathered, giving me room, and were whispering among themselves. One with dark hair, olive skin, and a heart-shaped face gave me a glare of such hatred that I turned back to my task. She was older, perhaps in her late twenties, and probably worried that she was nearing the end of her service age. I was at least twice her age, but thanks to Federated medicine and health care, I looked younger. I was a threat if her owner were looking for a new slave.

A soft hand touched the back of my neck as I poured. A petite redhead stood next to me, offering me a wooden goblet. I looked into her eyes, searching for intent.

“I was told to deliver this to you. Drink.” The redhead told me.

“Thank you,” I replied, “but no.”

She blinked, confused, probably unused to a slave saying no. I needed a clear mind. I wasn’t about to drink any intoxicants.

“My master ordered me to prepare you for the ceremony. It is required.”

“Who ordered you?” I asked, watching her eyes dart to the table where Jaxon was talking animatedly with several of the men who’d rescued us, including the elder warrior. “What is it?”

“Your master’s sponsor, and my master, Thrain Kade, warrior first of the Kade tribe.” She nodded to the elder warrior who was insisting through gesticulation that Jaxon do something. “He bade me to give you slave wine as is custom for the Collaring Ceremony.”

Wine. They meant to get me drunk and have Jaxon snap a collar on me. If Jaxon wasn’t my owner, then I belonged to the rescuers. I wasn’t sure how final ownership would be settled. Perhaps they fought each other, or maybe just pulled me apart like a wishbone? “If my master wishes it, then I will drink the wine.”

She looked terrified, “Please, my master expects me to complete this simple task…”

“Tell my master what I’ve said. If he wishes it, then you can offer me the wine and complete your master’s task.”

“Yes, sister.” She whispered. The worry in her eyes didn’t diminish as she fled back to the table.

I finished pouring and turned to see the original group of slave women staring daggers at me. Whatever happened, I hoped we could disengage ourselves from this tribe as quickly as possible. Dealing with these girls was going to get old quickly.

Returning to the table, I saw that Jaxon was in an animated conversation with Thrain.

“… And if I refuse to collar her, she becomes property of the warriors that rescued me?” Jaxon asked with a quick glance at me. “What happens to her then?”

Thrain didn’t even acknowledge that I’d approached. “She would be the property of her captors. Each would have a claim on her for a night to sample her pleasures, then the party would come to an agreement on who she should go to. Typically, through purchase to the tribes coffers.”

A dozen nights of being swapped from man to man. Worse, would it be men who already had the catty slaves? Several weeks of being taken night after night, each man carving another piece of my will away until I was only holes and silence. Then having to deal with house jealousies, only to be sold like a side of beef. Now I was all too eager to participate in the Collaring Ceremony.

Jaxon must have read my mind, “Let’s do this then, I want to ensure my slave is properly claimed by...”

I set the mugs on the table, and all conversation died in an instant. Looking around the table, all eyes were on me. Unsure what I was supposed to do, I gave a quick curtsey, painfully aware of my breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath. Every movement was a fresh reminder that my body was no longer private, no longer mine alone.

Thrain calmly asked Jaxon, “Is this how slaves serve in your land?”

Another warrior hissed, “She needs a good thrashing to remind her of her place.”

Jaxon’s eyes darted, taking in the situation and realizing I’d somehow managed to insult everyone. He lashed out and grabbed my wrist, then yanked me down across his lap in one smooth motion. My natural inclination was to defend myself with an arm block and back away for distance, but I forced myself instead to just go with it, landing heavily across his lap.

I realized my bare ass was lifted helplessly toward the room. I felt a wave of humiliating heat flash through me. Before I could reach back to cover myself, Jaxon had me pinned down, one hand on the back of my neck, locking me in place, the other slapping my hands away, then resting on the back of my upper thighs. A shameful pulse ignited between my thighs. My body's defiant response clashed with my mind's fury, a civil war I'd never anticipated in training simulations.

“My apologies, brothers. She’s had quite a shock tonight during our capture. I can only hope that an infliction of punishment to this stupid girl will assuage any insult she might have caused.”

The analytical part of my brain agreed that it was the right move. Placate the group we were dependent on for acceptance. My own dignity part of my brain recoiled in horror; not only was I lewdly on display to these brutes, but Jaxon was explaining how he intended to deliver corporal punishment. Before a blow even landed, I knew my cheeks, both on my face and ass, were glowing crimson in shame.

A loud crack sounded behind me, then a sharp pain shot through me. There was no way to muffle the yelp that the slap caused. It was only the first of many. Jaxon put on a good show, and the blows rained down until I was a squirming, crying mess. It's impossible to describe how humiliating it is to go from an egalitarian society where everyone is respected, to being treated as nothing more than a child and spanked without any consent. Cries escaped as my own heat surged, not merely from impacts but from deeper, unwelcome stirrings. Wetness betrayed me, a physiological mutiny against my core self. Soaked actually, which was even worse. My body was simply reacting to the evolutionary stimuli that said my body was about to be used. Intellectually, I know it wasn’t me, but the heat in the pit of my belly said otherwise. My body, without me wanting it to, was reacting to the spanking as if it were foreplay.

When it finally ended, Jaxon grabbed my hair, wrenching my head back to look up at him. Diminished in a way no mission had prepared me for, his grip reduced me to fragility, unraveling the equality I'd fought for, thread by emotional thread. Sure, they were physically bigger and more athletic, but I’d worked hard to be their intellectual equal. This destroyed that. There was nothing I could have done to stop it, even if I’d tried, and that made me feel tiny among these men.

“You forget yourself girl.” Jaxon barked at me. “You will serve my drink on your knees. Then you will do the same for each man here.”

I actually had to blink back tears. Not because I was sorry for not serving properly, but because I felt so utterly reduced by Jaxon’s treatment of me.

“Now serve.” He hissed, shoving me off his lap. Looking up in his face, I saw only the mask he wore as an agent. He was playing a role. He had to be.

Scrambling to my knees, I snatched a mug off the table and offered it up to him while bending my head down. “Sir, your drink.”

He took it from me, and I repeated the scene another four times, moving around the table on hands and knees. When I’d tried to stand, Jaxon snarled at me. At that point, I had to just turn my brain off and let my body move robotically. I couldn’t look any of the men in their eyes. Knowing their eyes tracked the sway of my chest as I crawled, each involuntary motion dragging me further from the agent I had been, left a hollow ache behind my ribs.

When I returned to Jaxon, he told me, “Drink.” The redhead was kneeling beside him, looking down at the ground as if trying to spare me the shame of having watched me treated like a beast of burden.

I took the cup from the slave and sipped it.

“All of it,” Jaxon said firmly. He reached out and tilted the cup up from its bottom, flooding my mouth with the sickly-sweet liquid.

Fire burned down my throat, erupting into a blaze once it descended to my stomach. Finished, I gave the cup back to the redhead, refusing to look at her. It only took a few moments, and the heat in my belly seeped through my whole body, igniting a traitor’s fire deep in my core. My fingers twitched with the humiliating urge to relieve what I could not control. I gasped, wanting to touch myself, but couldn’t in front of all these men.

“Good,” Thrain said. “Let's start the ceremony.”

As the heat inside me simmered, I could only play along with whatever the men wanted. The spreading heat felt like theft, my nerves conspiring against the commander still inside, turning arousal into another betrayal I couldn’t fight. The mission was spiraling wildly out of control. And without a ship, there was no way for us to escape.