Tales of the Rope

Chapter 9: Klaw, the Barbarian
Moon Flower, friend and handmaiden to Arlia, moaned aloud her misery to the chill early morning air. The beautiful young
woman of raven tresses and slanted eyes shivered both from the cold and from the painful position she found herself in at the
hands of this crude barbarian from the northlands. Clothing had been roughly torn from her golden body and she was bound in a
most uncomfortable position, her ankles lashed tightly together then pulled up to the great cross pole of the now burnt tent. Then
her arms had been bound spread wide and downward to the posts such that she made an inverted Y, her long shining black hair
tickling the ground beneath her. Her flesh shivered in fear and the cold.
Before the nude young woman stood a massive figure on a midnight black horse of such size to make all others seem puny. The
giant figure was covered in wolf skins, and the long sword hanging from his belt was stained with blood from the dozen guards
now lying lifeless on the ground. His hair was as black and as wild as the mane of his magnificent steed. Dark eyes gave his
brooding and rugged features a sinister look as he gazed upon the trembling naked girl.
“You tell Sylon, woman! Hear me?”
The hanging girl forced herself to look up into the dark eyes. For a long second those two pairs of eyes held, then she spat at
him, a useless gesture of defiance. The barbarian laughed loud, and then he suddenly lashed out with a short whip to touch her
bare bottom with a blow that was more of sting than pain. “Hate me if you will, wench, but be sure you tell Sylon that Klaw rode
off with his woman. I go north.”
A handful of minutes later the barbarian was only a spot disappearing over the rise. Moon Flower shivered and moaned again.
The ropes cut deep into her ankles and wrists, tied there by a hand concerned only with making the girl truly helpless. Her forlorn
gaze met only still forms of the guards Prince Sylon had send with them to protect Arlia. And a barren landscape of rocks and
sand. Alone and cruelly bound on a little used trail, she wondered how long she would hang before someone came. Then she
cried.
Many miles passed before Klaw slowed his horse in a forest glade. North he had said and north he had ridden. The barren
lowlands had quickly yielded to mountains and a valley with trees and a rushing brook of chilly ice-melt from the snows above. In
the clearing, he unlashed the bundle from the back of his mount and dropped it none too gently to the grassy ground. It gave off
a muffled cry of protest. Giving it a shove with his foot, the great bear skin unrolled to reveal a woman inside.
Arlia looked every bit the princess she was. Her hair was the color of sunlight on polished gold. Her eyes were the blue of high
mountain skies. The sleeping clothes she still wore were of finest silk, purple as befitted her station, clinging to a form that would

make a goddess envy. Breasts both large and firm heaved beneath the silk. Klaw’s eyes roved downward to the slender waist
and flaring hips. They followed the long legs. But they returned to the azure eyes that flared with fire and hatred for him. Yet, if
this incredibly beautiful woman pleased him or set a fire in his loins, he did not show it. As if he were ordering his horse, he told
her, “Get up.”
Blue fire flashed in her eyes and her nostrils flared. But she rolled over to a kneeling position, a maneuver made difficult with
wrists bound behind the back. Then she stood and defiantly glared at her barbarian captor. With legs spread wide and planted
solidly, she stood before him as if fear were unknown to this beauty.
“You will die,” she hissed.
He laughed. “Someday,” was all he replied.
“You will die when Prince Sylon catches you. And I will laugh over your bloody and broken body.”
“Good. If your prince kills me, then I deserve to be laughed at.” Not seeming to mind the threat of death, he began to remove the
harness from his horse.
Arlia looked around. They were alone in the midmorning sun. Klaw seemed to be concerned only with caring for his horse as the
kidnapped princess eyed the darkness between the trees. Slowly she edged away until she had halved the distance to the forest
opening. Then she turned and ran. Just as she was about to plunge into the undergrowth of ferns a shape hurled past her ear
with a swishing sound. Suddenly there was a dagger quivering in the tree before her. She skidded to a stop. Certain he could
have driven that dagger into her back as easily as hit the tree, she turned and walked back.
“Stay,” was all he said.
Arlia stretched limbs cramped from a long and bumpy ride. Threats seemed to have no effect. Running away seemed foolish.
Even if she made it, she would be lost in a forest she did not know, dressed in flimsy nightclothes and with her hands bound
behind her back. With feminine instinct she turned coy. “Would you untie my hands please,” she pleaded. “They hurt.”
Klaw ignored her.
Suppressing the urge to stamp her foot, Arlia forced herself to walk a few steps nearer this huge man. With sunlight warming the
forest glade, he had shed his wolf skin cloak, leaving him bare from the waist up. She shivered as she neared this massive male.
She was a woman and what woman could not feel his presence and see those muscles ripple as he unbuckled saddlebags.
When he looked at her, those black eyes did funny things inside her.

“I said my wrists hurt,” she repeated. His only reply was to open one of the saddlebags and remove several coils of rope, which
he tossed on the bearskin. Arlia noted that they were the ropes woven from cotton strands by the Cushites. They made the finest
ropes in the world. She shivered. What did he want more rope for?
Klaw, and she knew that was his name from the cries of the guards before he cut them down, went to the bearskin and motioned
for her to follow. Briefly she wondered if she should seduce this brute of a man. That ancient woman’s trick had put other men
under her control before. As she walked she swayed her hips and allowed a lot of leg to show through the folds of silk. She
smiled sweetly.
If the display had any effect, he showed it not. Turning the beautiful woman around, he untied her crossed wrists only to retie
them side by side. That puzzled her and put the taste of fear in her mouth. A rough hand pushed her to the bear skin and on her
face. Before she could protest, rope was being wrapped around her ankles. With them securely tied together, Klaw passed
another rope between her wrists and down between her ankles then back up to form a loop. When he pulled that loop smaller,
Arlia found her feet and hands being pulled closer and closer until her palms were tightly pressed against her heels.
The beautiful and very sexy woman grunted, but bit back the scolding words she would have used to lash any other man who
dared treat her thus.
Folding the bearskin over her, Klaw picked up the bundle and carried it to a place under a tree larger than the others. There, he
put her down and unfolded the skin. Arlia could not see what he was doing but after a few seconds she felt the ropes around her
wrists and ankles tighten. Then she felt her hands and feet being drawn up until her body was arched backward. She grunted
from the strain. It was not really pain but it did feel very uncomfortable. Only her stomach still touched the bearskin. For a few
seconds his eyes roved her arched body. Then he pulled again on the rope and Arlia was lifted into the air. He tied the rope to a
branch when her eyes were the level of his.