Kinktober 2020 #2

Content Warnings: F/m, F/f, femdom, lesdom, Amazons, kidnapping, bondage

“You have to choose sometime, Enkra.”

“I know, but I don’t want to give any of them up! I captured them, why should I have to donate one?”

“It’s traditional. You know that. You don’t to leave the dock until you give one up.”

“It’s a stupid tradition!”

The two Amazon women stood upon the port dock; the subjects of their conversation huddled at their feet. Three people. Two women and one man. They were bound with sturdy, well-wrought rope and gagged with one cloth stuck in their mouth and another wrapped between their teeth. Each was nearly as young as their captors. They had been freed of the net that denoted them as the captures of one raider. One of the women had just reached twenty years of age, while her fellow captives were nineteen.

Their captor, Enkra, had only just turned nineteen herself. The traditional age an Amazon woman could start raiding. Her companion and cousin, Caria, was a year younger. The captives didn’t know any of this.

It was a bright, sunny day. Sounds of the sea, waves lightly crashing upon the nearby beach and seabirds crying out, mingled with the bustle of the port and the city beyond. Voices of the people milled about, and the gagged cries of newly captured slaves from the days raiding stood out most of all.

Caria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come on, Enkra. You’ve never even owned a slave before, and now you caught three on your first raid. You’ll still have two left over. What’s the problem?”

One of the slaves in question whimpered at hearing the word. The twenty-year old, tall for the outside world but shorter than most Amazon women. She had long blonde hair and a fine tan complexion, a woman well used to beaches like the one she was captured on. And, to Caria’s internal delight, she was almost entirely naked. The top half of her two-piece swimsuit had been lost at some point in the day, and her bust was a fine sight.

“The problem,” Enkra declared, “is that I can’t decide which one to give up!”

More whimpers were heard. It was interesting to see how each of the captives reacted. The blonde was plainly terrified.

The man was, lightly muscled, and wearing a baggy swimsuit, He stood about as tall as the blonde. His hair was almost non-existent, a line of fuzz Caria found herself wishing to touch. He was clearly trying to be stoic and brave, desperate to show defiance. But the obvious fear in his eyes betrayed the truth of the act. As did the way he sat behind the third of their number,

Her dark hair was cut short, barely touching her ears. She wore a black and blue wetsuit. A surfer, Enkra had told Caria, and clearly fit and muscular beneath the skintight material. She kept her eyes focused on a single point, glaring at nothing while trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. She was Caria’s favorite.

Each of the three was bound around the wrists and ankles, which were then bound to each other. Hogties, though they were allowed to sit upright rather than lay on their stomachs.

Caria sighed, knowing her cousin would be frozen by indecision for quite some time. All of the other new raiders had long since left the docks to enjoy their new property or lick their wounded pride if they failed to catch anyone. Even the few others who caught more than two had already donated their extra captives. Most by showing them off in town, taking them home to play with or begin training them. Some would take their captures to market for sale so they could buy a better trained item.

It said a lot about a woman, what she did with her first slave.