Tales of the Rope

Chapter 10: Klaw, the Barbarian Continued
Arlia bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was damned uncomfortable - it hurt - yet she knew she could take it. For now at least.
How long did this damnable barbarian plan to torment her so? She watched him walk across the glade and retrieve his dagger
from the tree. As he walked back with the sharp blade in his hand and that wild animal look in his eyes, Arlia gulped down fear.
Wild stories of the primitive tribes flashed into her mind; tales of horrible torture for captive prisoners, of sacrifices to bloodthirsty
gods, and of strange sexual acts. She was very much aware of her helplessness.
The blade neared her throat, but detoured to cut one strap of her nightdress. Then the other strap. Without concern for the costly
garment, he cut and ripped it from her body until her arched and strained form was naked. He stood back and watched as her
nudity twisted slowly around, those magnificent breasts pointed towards the ground. As her legs swung around his way he noted
the how sparse seemed the golden patch of hair guarding her private place. Not like the bushy patches of the northland women.
“Prince Sylon will get you,” Arlia forced out through clenched teeth.
“He will soon be here,” he casually replied.
“How do you know that?”
“He followed your caravan less than a day behind. I saw his dust yesterday. He would have caught up with you today.” He
sheathed the dagger. “He has already found that girl with the strange eyes I left hanging. She has told him which way I went and
what I took with me. A child could follow my tracks. He will soon be here.”
“Moon Flower is from Cathay. All women there look like her.”
He only grunted then pulled out his great sword to wipe it clean and check its surface.
“Are you going to leave me like this?”
He ignored her.
“Please?” There was real pain in her voice. She wanted to be down, not arched and hanging in midair.
Ignoring her still, Klaw trotted off into the forest.
For a long time Arlia expected his return. But slowly the glade returned to the normal sound of birds. It was as if Klaw had
disappeared.

Arlia struggled but knew it was useless. The ropes around her wrists and ankles were being pulled very tight by her own body
weight. Escape was impossible and she knew it. For a pampered princess such treatment was inconceivable. Any man who
dared do this to her would die slowly and she would gloat over his suffering. But here in this wooded glade there were no palace
guards to obey her orders. There was only this brute of a man and her. And she was naked, tightly bound and so damned
helpless she could cry.
She did cry, but the tears dried up quickly. The ropes hurt something terrible, but she held back from screaming. She was, after
all, a Princess. For a Princess to cry at a little pain was not proper.
Never had this beautiful woman been so handled by a man. None of her lovers had dared be rough even though she sometimes
wished one or two would be so bold. Only this barbarian from the north dared. But why, she wondered, didn’t he rape me? I
certainly couldn’t stop him. And I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. Men would die to touch this fantastic body, she told
herself. Then why did he not even touch her taut nipple, grab a handful of breast when it would have been so easily clutched as
it hung down?
Of course! The harsh suspension had taken her concentration away. She was only a piece of bait! This barbarian wished Prince
Sylon to find her and fall into a trap. But the Prince never traveled with less than a dozen armed men and this barbarian was
alone. He would be easily killed. The thought cheered her up - a little.
Arlia’s head hung down for it was too much effort to keep it up. She hung limply in the cruel bondage and prayed that Sylon
would rescue her soon.
There was a noise - horses approaching the glade. Then the cut-short cry of a man in pain. Another scream of pain, then silence.
Arlia strained to see, but the forest hid what was happening from her. She hoped to see Sylon enter the glade and cut these
painful ropes from her body.
Then there was another scream and some cries and the unmistakable clash of blades. Then silence. Suddenly a horse and rider
burst into the clearing. It was Sylon, and Arlia cried out in joy.
The prince dismounted but he had a frightened look on his face as he looked back over his shoulder. He approached Arlia. “My
dear Princess,” he began, a slight smile tugging at his handsome features, “never have I seen you so... So...”
“Shut up and get me down.”
He made no move to free her, staring instead with fascination at her taut body and lovely curves.

Suddenly he jerked away his gaze and turned. Arlia could see Klaw standing not ten feet behind Sylon. She screamed.
Sylon drew his sword just in time to parry a savage thrust. He countered with a very rapid thrust of his own that missed Klaw’s
throat by only inches.
Klaw stepped back. “You killed my parents,” he growled. Sylon’s face turned grim. “You will die.”
The battle lasted only a minute - two men, one driven by hatred, the other by a desire to live, both slashing, dodging, and
thrusting with a fearful determination and a speed born of desperation. But brute strength won out and an overpowering down
stroke of Klaw’s blade, driven by his massive sinews, drove both his blade and Sylon’s own back to split his skull like a ripe
melon.
For a long time Arlia watched silently as Klaw stood over the slain form of his foe. Then he raised his blood-soaked blade straight
over his head, tilted his head back, and let vent an animal-like howl of victory.
When the bloody figure approached her, Arlia wondered if he would also slay her. He no longer needed bait. And she was to
have been Sylon’s bride, perhaps damned in his eyes the same as Sylon himself.
The blade arched through the air... Only to cut the rope holding her suspended. Arlia would have fallen to the ground had he not
caught her in one arm and lowered her to the bear skin. Then he untied her arms from her legs. She almost cried out in relief as
her legs unfolded and her body straightened out. He untied her ankles but not her wrists. The cord from her ankles went around
her elbows to harshly draw them inward until they were tightly pressed together. She was pulled to her feet and stood there
trembling before this man. His every move was so animal-like, so primitive that she feared his next action.
And some primitive instinct inside her cried out for that very action she feared.
Discarding his leather pants, Klaw picked up his bound and naked captive as if she were a toy and lowered her onto his massive
rod. Princess Arlia was granted the satisfaction her inner self craved. And more.
Hours later, when his lust was apparently sated for the moment, and hers exhausted, he bound her legs together and wrapped
her in the bear skin. Lightly she was tossed over the back of his horse and lashed there. She did not care. Nor did she mind the
tight ropes cutting into her ankles, wrists and elbows. As the bouncing, jolting ride began and once-proud princess sighed
happily.