His white prisoner. (Closed for prettyserpentine & Niceandbrutal)

[Niceandbrutal]

The ambush was set, ready to spring. Mana, leader of the raid and chieftain of the tribe had heard tale of a group of white people heading his way. His brothers from the coast had told about these strange people, covering their bodies in cloth despite the heat and generally conducting themselves in strange ways. Their weapons were to be feared, though. They could fell a man at many paces and they made a terrible noise.

Mana shifted his powerfully muscled and tall body as he heard movement down the trail. He was adorned with scars and tattoos, a perpetual scowl on his face that was framed by shoulder length jet black hair, scary to those who didn't know him. As was the intention.

There! An elaborately adorned man appeared riding some sort of beast Mana had never seen before. With gestures and grimaces and bird calls, they communicated. Let the advance guards pass. The main body was close behind, and his reserves would deal with the advance guard. Mana had been warrior chieftain for many moons, never being bested by the neighbouring tribes. In the main body was something Mana had never seen before: it looked like a little house on wheels, drawn by the same strange beasts.

The ambush was sprung. Mana's men let loose with bows and spears before closing in on the soldiers in the main body of the column. It was a swift and decisive action. Mana was again victorious. He let out a roar of triumph, then stopped. He distinctly thought he'd heard a whimper from the little wheeled house. He went over to it, passing the carcasses of the beasts pulling it.

It seemed there was a door with an elaborate mechanism to open it. Not bothering with such trifles, Mana tore it off its hinges. For the longest time, all he could do was stare at the contents of that litle wheeled house.

 

[prettyserpentine]

It was the fortieth year of the reign of King George III. It had been a miserable winter, and was looking to be a miserable spring for Sophia Starkey. Her husband had been selected among other military hierarchy to go out to some of the colonies for supplies, and of course, Francis had insisted that she accompany him. She had no idea why. Their marriage was loveless, and she would much rather have stayed at home in their house in Cornwall than even appear at court, much less have to travel around the world.

They hadn't been on dry land more than a week when Francis decided to take them on a trek around the island to look for whatever food they could take from the locals. Sophia didn't hold with the idea, not that her opinion mattered to him. She was a soft-hearted woman, she had been married to him in her twentieth year, and they had been man and wife for just over two years.

As it wasn't proper for all the soldiers to have a woman to look at, Francis had ensured to put Sophia away from prying eyes in a carriage. She had spent two days in it on this journey while he led the caravan on horseback. It was late in the afternoon when they were ambushed. Through the netted window she saw the natives come thundering out of the trees and bushes bearing spears and crudely made knives. She could hear scuffling, and curled up on the floor. When she heard the warrior's shout from outside, she wondered had her husband been bested on the battlefield, and she tried to hold back a cry of fear. She failed.

Clapping her hands over her mouth, she stared at the door of the carriage as it was pulled from its frame. The fading light burst into the dark little carriage, lighting up Sophia Starkey. She blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the light. As the sunlight poured in, it illuminated her pale skin, against the red of the inside of the carriage. She squinted out at the silhouetted figure. Her vivid blue eyes peered out at the tall, muscular man with the long dark hair. She was afraid, that much was obvious. As she huddled in the corner, her green dress was crumpled. She had never been one for high fashion, and although her dress was plain for an English woman, it was unheard of in this region of the world. The neckline was high, the waist pinched in the usual corset fashion, accentuating her hips and bust, which was average. Her hair was pinned up, a few ringlets dropping down around her face, and the harsh sun had turned her very blonde hair almost silver over the months.

The man stared in at her, and she stared back at him with her wide, blue eyes.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Although he'd never considered it, it stood to reason there would be white women as well as men. This frail form before him looked like it could be a woman. It was small and apparently afraid. Its skin was fair, even more so than the white men's. It was dressed up more elaborate than the white men.

"Are you a woman? Why do you cover yourself so in this heat?"

He reached out after her. He wanted to touch that fair and smooth white skin.

 

[prettyserpentine]

The man spoke at her in his own tongue, and she couldn't understand him. He was tall, his skin was darker than Francis' and he was so very muscular. When he spoke his voice was deep and almost musical, but the foreign tongue scared her. She recoiled as he reached into the carriage for her, and she gasped a little, although it sounded like more of a small scream, as much of one as her corset would allow.

"Please, don't hurt me," she said quietly. "I don't mean you any harm."

Her eyes filled with tears and her lip quivered. She had never wanted to come to this land in the first place, and now it looked as though she might very well die here. Yet he was still reaching for her, the markings on his arms and body visible as he reached inside the carriage, and she shifted away from him.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mana grew puzzled at her behaviour. He had beaten her people fairly and she was now his, as was only right and proper. As she started mewling and retreating further into the little house he lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. It was indeed similar to the skin of the females in the village, softer than the men's skin, and fairer. But the rest of her? Was she truly a woman?

This was for the wise men and women of the village, his trusted council, to decide. He pulled her towards him, out of the little house, and lifted her bodily over his shoulders.

He ordered his men to withdraw, leaving behind the remains of the column.

 

[prettyserpentine]

As he grabbed her wrist, she was both horrified and inquisitive about his strength. His fingers wrapped around her wrist with ease, and he lifted her up over his shoulder like he was lifted a sheaf of hay. She made a slight squeak as her midriff connected with him and her hair fell loose, cascading down over her head as she struggled slightly, kicking her legs a little as he held her, her petticoats visible, and the corset pinching at her ribcage. She pushed her hands against his back, trying to breathe, and squirming.

From her haphazard position, she could see the men and the horses. All dead. A cold feeling swept over her and she started to shake.

"Please, please let me go, please..."

But he kept carrying her. She struggled to breathe in her discomfort, and could do nothing but hang there.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

She kept making the noises. It sounded like she was talking, but it sounded like so much gibberish to Mana. Fascinated by the almost white hair that cascaded from its/her head, Mana trudged along for a while until he grew tired of the sounds she made. He stopped his band of warriors and placed her over one knee. "I grow weary of this one's incessant sounds. Let's see if this shuts her up!"

He unceremoniously started spanking her through her cloth, it being too complicated to remove without ruining it.

"Will you be quiet!"

 

[prettyserpentine]

Sophia felt the breath of wind in her hair as he swung her around and over his knee. She turned, opening her mouth to address him.

"What are you... - Ouch!"

As his hand connected with her satin-covered behind, she yelped, kicking her legs. She surmised that chastising a child was universal, never mind the language, and that at least now they understood each other. Although she didn't know why he was punishing her.

"I don't understand..." She said, reaching a hand around to rub her smarting bottom.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

And she persisted in making the noises. He grew irritated.

"Hold her hands, she is testing my patience."

One of his warriors seized her hands and pulled them away from her behind. Mana then set about spanking her for a short period of time. He did not cease until he felt the warmth from her spanked bottom through her cloth. Surely she would understand and be quiet now?

 

[prettyserpentine]

He didn't stop. She hadn't been spanked since she had that cruel governess when she was a child. But the humiliation and the feeling was as hurtful as she remembers. She bit her lip, whimpering, silent tears falling down her cheeks onto the ground as her body shuddered with every slap. The warrior who held her hands out was looking at her strangely and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Were they going to kill her? She didn't know. All she was sure of was that her husband was dead, all their soldiers were dead, and for some reason she wasn't.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

She finally grew silent. Mana was satisfied with his handiwork. He again heaved her over his shoulders as if she were nothing but a sack of feathers. Then he and his band of warriors set off again at a trot, the village their destination.

After a while the village appeared as they emerged from a large patch of tall grass. Dusk approached as Mana set the white woman down, holding her wrists in a vice lest she try to run off. She seemed subdued, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

With a bellow he summoned his learned council to show the new creature amongst them. He explained about the ambush and how they'd annihilated their opponents without loss, apart from a gash on the arm of one of his younger warriors. The warrior was young and fit and it would heal, leaving a scar of honor. He then explained about the little house on wheels and how he had found this creature inside it. He was uncertain of her. Was she truly a woman? She was hidden beneath so many layers of cloth he wasn't really sure.

He ordered the women of the village to take her and strip her of the cloth and wash her if necessary, then dress her as a proper human being and lead her before the gathered village to be examined so that they once and for all could determine her status.

As they led her away, Mana couldn't help but notice the curiosity she awoke in his villagers. Many of them thronged around her and tried to touch her fair skin and blonde hair. "Let her pass!" he roared. There'd be more than enough time for everyone to examine her when she appeared before them more suitably clothed.

 

[prettyserpentine]

He held both her wrists in one of his hands, and she stood meekly beside him, flinching a little at the loud shouting that brought what seemed to be the whole village to his audience.

Her cheeks pinkened as she noticed them looking at her, some of the women touching their own faces and talking among each other, probably commenting on how her skin reddened with embarrassment. She pulled on her wrists a little, but the tribesman's titan grip never waned. Her captor seemed to address a few women, who strode forward and gripped her wrists as he let her go. She looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at her, and as the women led her away, the villagers reached for her.

Sophia couldn't help but notice they were inquisitive, not reaching to hurt her, just to touch, and she wondered had none of them seen an Englishwoman before. The women led her to a river with a few meagre huts dotted around. There were women washing in the river, and washing clothes. Two women held one of her arms each, and one went around the back, moving her hair out of the way and speaking. The other two looked around, presumably at the buttons on the back of the dress. But it held no confusion for them, as the third woman drew a flint knife and tore along the seam of the dress. It billowed to the ground, leaving her standing there in the corset and her bloomers and shoes. The woman knelt, pulling off her shoes, and laughing as she tugged on the fluffy white bloomers, which she pulled down.

Sophia looked over her shoulder, her round bottom was pink. Very pink. She sighed a little, standing there now only in the corset which pinched her waist tightly. The three women stood and poked at it, some of the washer women had gathered to look with their little children. The older woman slid her little dagger down and Sophia felt the bindings on the back of the corset snap and the whalebone device popped open and fell to the ground. She visibly relaxed, breathing out and feeling the rush of oxygen. She staggered a little and the two women holding her arms led her to the water where they washed her, chattering among themselves. They dunked her head under the water and she coughed as they roughly washed her hair, holding the long silvery strands in their hands and pointing to the sun.

When she was led back to the hut, they ran combs through her hair and let it hang loose. She had never had her hair loose. They dressed her in their own clothes, a knee length painted grass skirt, and some kind of strange looking covering for her chest. Her shoulders and most of her back were bare, the leather and grass article covered from the top of her pert breasts to just underneath them, exposing her middle and her shapely waist and hips. She tried to cover herself, completely embarrassed. Her skin was pale, so unlike these villagers.

The three women led her outside again, back to where she had been earlier with her captor. The elder woman started to shout, and Sophia kept her head up, looking around, trying not to look like a frightened animal.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mana's jaw sagged when he saw her again. Properly dressed and newly washed she was radiant, although very very pale. The medicine woman had called the tribe to gather to assess the new creature in their midst. The tribe flocked in the communal meeting area. The medicine woman had two of her younger helpers hold the pale woman. She told how the new woman was indeed a woman like the women of their tribe. But there were apparent differences for all to see.

She held the skirt aside and pointed out how the hair between her legs was as light as the hair on her head but that she otherwise was similar to Maori women there. She also pointed out how her nipples were of a much lighter color than those of Maori women. She then spoke:

"This woman is indeed a prize, destined to become Mana's wife. She was won by him in combat and is his for the taking." She turned the white woman around and lifted her skirt, showing off her still pink cheeks. "And it seems like he's set about taming her already!" The tribe chuckled heartily at this, Mana included. But his mind also lusted after this woman, so different from the women of his tribe and yet so beautiful. He wanted to impress her. He formed his warriors from his raiding paty, and they soon agreed upon a set pattern for their victory haka.

They formed a small column, starting the chant and intimidating dance that outlined their shrewd plan and execution of same. The dance grew ever more fierce as combat was described from their point of view, with much shaking of spears and overt shows of aggression plain on their faces. As the dance and chant progressed, Mana glanced at the white woman to gauge her reaction.

 

[prettyserpentine]

They held her arms out and displayed her like some kind of animal for the slaughter; she thought to herself how she was a statue, and they were just in a museum, looking at her. She tried to detach herself as the elder woman showed her breasts to the people gathered, her light hair between her legs. She twisted her body a little, trying to hide her shame as tears pricked at her eyes. This was humiliating. Why were they keeping her? To what end did they want her here?

When the elder woman pulled her around and lifted her skirt, the tribespeople laughed at her reddened behind, and the woman pointed at it. Sophia felt her breath hitch in her throat and her chest rose and fell. She was angry, enraged, humiliated, and frightened. She was in an alien world, surrounded by people she couldn't understand, and she wasn't sure if they were going to kill her, or let her leave, and if they did that where would she go?

The men of the tribe, with her captor, were milling around discussing something. She noticed the way he kept looking at her, the way he had looked at her when she first came out. His chest had been strong and proud, and there was something in his eyes that she had noticed. The two women stayed by her side, although they let loose her arms and she clasped her hands together nervously as the elder woman talked both at her, and to the two other women. She noticed little children playing with her shoes and a few of the other washer women analysing her bloomers and corset, shaking their heads.

After a little while, the men all formed a line, with her captor at the head. They had spears with them, and it was the first time she had noticed their tattoos and war paint. The women had paint on some of their faces, a lot of them had intricate paint on their chins, and her royal blue eyes took in as much of her surroundings as they could. The women crowded around, the elder men and children too, and Sophia hugged her arms to herself, covering her midriff and looking around her as the warrior party who had accompanied her back here stood in a column.

She was confused, looking around her. An elder man caught her eye and nodded his head to the column of men. She was just about to turn her head back when she heard the loudest collective yell from the columns men, causing her to jump and gasp. No one else reacted, some little children laughed at her.

The men started a peculiar sort of chanting, stamping their feet, showing their tongues and their faces looked so angry. It scared her. They brandished their spears and fists, slapping their bodies, their chests and thighs, and shouting, chanting. The crowd of villagers were nodding, and moving together. It was some of primal, tribal dance. A show of their strength. The thumping of their spears on the ground, and their stamping of feet, the violence of the display all drew great interest from her. Another world, another culture. She watched with fascination, her heart beating, hammering in time to the primal rhythm. It was terrifying, but exhilarating.

Sophia watched as the men roared together, their chanting and the beat almost hypnotising her, until she noticed the leader, her captor, looking at her. She had been taught never to look a strange man in the eye, but his gaze was alluring to her. As she looked at him, she felt her face flood with colour, her heart thumping. What should she do? She was nervous, scared, not sure of what was to become of her. She couldn't understand anything anyone said to her, and as he looked at her in the midst of the tribal dance, she bowed her head ever so slightly and smiled, praying to God that wasn't some huge cultural offence.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

The haka finished, he looked squarely at her. She'd bowed her head in a demure fashion, which pleased him. And she was red in her face, like her bottom. But how was he to explain to her that she was to be his bride? He approached the eldest medicine woman with this question. Everybody knew that making and birthing babies was the essence of marriage, she told him. Maybe he could make hand gestures to explain what was expected of her? Surely their worlds weren't so different that she wouldn't understand simple gestures?

Mana heaved a sigh, approaching the white woman again. He hunched down and looked at her blue eyes, not fathoming the possibility of such eyes. He'd seen different shades of brown, but never blue like this. He hesitated, knowing full well the whole tribe was watching now. He didn't mind them watching when he told of his prowess as warrior, but this was different. This was for the bed, and while they joked about such things to be serious about it with everyone watching was a new form of torture Mana had never experienced before.

Presently, he began. With awkward gestures he first pointed to himself, then to the area between his legs. He pointed to her and to her area between her legs. Then he showed his index finger on his right hand while he made a circle with his thumb and index finger of his left hand. He pushed the index finger of his right hand into the circle of his left hand, making in/out movements. Someone giggled at this, and he felt warm as his face flushed. He pressed on, pressing his hand at her belly and pulling it outward with a cupped hand to signify growing life inside her. He then placed his hands on her breasts and did the same motion to a lesser degree. He then pointed at her and made a pushing motion on her belly with both hands until he finally mimicked holding a baby.

He hoped she'd understand. The tribe was giggling at his display, there were even those who shouted encouragements at him. He was embarassed, but tried no to show it.

 

[prettyserpentine]

As he approached her, she paled, and whenever he stared right into her face she could feel her cheeks redden. She looked down, and up, and repeated the action a few times, her cheeks growing pink again, her eyes shimmering. He took a moment and sighed, and then began the most peculiar show of charades she had ever seen.

With a serious of rather crude hand movements, he seemed to be telling her the story of a conception, through the growing changes of a woman's body, and a birth. He cradled a baby at the end, albeit an imaginary one. Some of the villagers were hiding laughter behind their hands, and Sophia was confused, but she knew he was trying to communicate with her. She bit her lip, and looked around, concentrating. She mimicked his hand movement, with her forefinger not entering the hole. Her face blazed red and her finger drooped. She looked visibly embarrassed and uncomfortable as her watery blue eyes looked up at him, her lip trembling a little.

She looked down at her wedding ring with a frown, and pried it off her finger. She held it out in the palm of her hand and pointed back to where they had brought her from. She pointed at his hand, and tapped the ring on the finger, then pointed at that direction again, drooped her finger, and shook the ring.

Sophia didn't know if he understood. She smiled at him. She hadn't liked her husband, and hadn't wanted to marry him. He was old enough to be her father. She wondered is that what her captor wanted to know, had she a child, and a husband. She made the crude hand gestures, her limp forefinger poking around the hole. She hadn't ever done anything to cause her to have a child.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

He looked at her quizzically, not comprehending. The small metal band on her finger seemed to signify something. But was she suggesting he couldn't perform his husbandly duties? Some of the tribesmen laughed openly now, but he cut the laughter short with a glare that commanded respect and promised severe punishment. He waved his hands to say, no, he could perform.

Not wanting to demonstrate his ability to get a stiffening between his legs in front of the whole tribe, he pulled her to her feet. With a hand gesture he told her to follow, and the women of the village pushed her along when she seemed to hesitate. He led her to his hut and pulled her inside. The hut was sparsely furnished, a bed of straws and a shelf for his equipment as well as a little fireplace was all he required.

He pointed to his bed, and he set about to make a fire as he hoped she would settle on the bed.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Sophia sat down on the bed and watched him as he started to make a fire. She hadn't ever seen anyone do that before, the servants used to do it before she and Francis came down in the morning. This must be the hut they were going to keep her in. She looked around at the sparse belongings. Maybe she could make a rug, if she had some wool. She looked down at the clothes, pulling the parts of the grass skirt over her legs to hide her modesty. She sat primly on the bed, her hands clasped together on her knees. She had pulled her hair over her shoulder so it lay in front of one shoulder. She fiddled with the ends of it.

When he finished building the fire, he turned to her. She rose to her feet quickly and nodded, smiling in thanks. Then she looked to the door, but he didn't leave. She looked around the hut again, and realised it wasn't her hut. It was his.

Her face flooded with colour again and her jaw dropped. "No... We aren't married..." She backed away, waving her hands in front of herself. She bumped her back against the bed and sat down with a thud, pushing herself back with her legs. She pointed at her finger again and shook her head somewhat crossly.

How could he want to do this with her? The brute didn't even have a name! She looked up into his brown eyes, and felt her heart race again.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

She was pointing at her finger and she seemed angry. Did she still suspect he could not perform? He looked at her more closely. No, she wasn't angry. She seemed afraid. But why? If he'd wanted to harm her, he'd do so anyway. She was at his mercy, surely she understood that? He heaved a sigh of frustration. Maybe he should try to explain that he was a powerful man, so much so that his name MEANT power?

He tapped himself and said firmly "Mana!" He repeated the gesture: "Mana!"

He thought it almost hopeless, but he watched her with great interest.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Despite herself, her face broke into a wide smile, her eyes lighting up and her fine row of white teeth visible. She hadn't smiled in such a way in a long time, and she followed his lead. She tapped herself strongly on the chest and said her own name. "Sophia. So-fee.” She smiled and laid her hand on his chest. "Mana." Then she took his hand and laid it on her chest. "Sophia." She smiled broadly. This new form of communicating was exciting!

She let his hand drop again, and she held on to it as she let it fall down. He was warm, very warm, and she was a little cold. Nervous. She let go of his hand again and clasped her hands, fidgeting with the ends of her hair. She had her head bowed a little, and looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her smile hit him like a closed fist. He was struck by her beauty and the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. Then she started saying "So-fee" as she started pointing at herself. The word meant nothing to him. Maybe it was a word she had picked up at the coast. The dialect of the coast-dwellers was different to his. This could be important. He stuck his head outside the door and called one of the elders, imploring him if he knew anything about this word "So-fee".

The elder furrowed his brow and asked Mana to explain what had happened. As Mana explained, the elder suggested that this maybe was her name and not a title? This sounded plausible enough to Mana. All right. He thenked the elder and bade him leave.

He turned and looked at her. "So-fee" he said, a gentleness creeping into his voice. He walked over to her and cupped her left cheek with his right hand. "So-fee" he repeated.

 

[prettyserpentine]

When he looked outside of the hut, she could hear him talking in his own tongue, and saying her name. She didn't know why, but she stood there compliantly anyway, until he turned back to her. His eyes were gentle, and he said her name, the way people had said it to her in her youth, the plain way, the way she loved it. She smiled again, and nipped her lip nervously with her teeth as she looked up at him.

He was looking down at her, and his hand moved. Her eyes flashed wide and she looked a little panicked. Her neck stiffened, her shoulders stiffened, but he just cupped her cheek. His hand was so warm, so gentle, and she tried to stop shaking, stop being frightened. She hadn't been touched with such gentility, and it made her a little sad that she had to travel across the world, step out of her own culture and be lost in order to find that. She swallowed, turning her face against his hand. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and she closed them, lifting her left hand and resting her fingers against his as he laid them on her cheek.

She whispered his name into his palm. The pale skin of her face contrasted with the deep, sunriched tone of his skin. She was soft where his hands were rough. They were from different worlds, yet here they were together.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

She cried now. He liked it better when she smiled. She was pretty even when crying, but that smile made his heart sing like it had never done before.

Trying to console her, he held her in an embrace. It was not something he had done since he was a little boy. He found he had missed it. He stroked her soft blonde hair and spoke gently to her. "Please don't cry, So-fee! Please smile again." He rocked her back and forth, not really conscious of what he was doing. He held her tight.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Sophie didn't want to cry, she wanted to be strong and brave, and not let these strange people see a bad representation of her. But she was overcome by everything that had happened to her. And she felt bad for feeling released from her husband. But when Mana said her name, she felt like smiling.

As he pulled her against him, her head reached his chest. He was a good bit taller than she was, and she rested her face against him. He smelled different. Earthy. Her tears wet his chest, and she ran her hand over them, removing them. She found herself tracing her fingers along his tattoos, but they didn't rub off on her fingers. She had read stories about sailors getting tattoos, pouring ink into cuts, and she hadn't understood. But these were different. Tribal and primal. It was fascinating, and she hiccuped a little, her crying dissipating as she looked at his body. He had a few scars, probably from fighting, and more tattooed markings. She moved out of his arms.

"I have a scar, too..." She assumed his were from honour, but hers were from being bled as a teenager. She held out her arms, and there were small raised scars on the inside of her upper arms, near the crook of her elbows. She pointed at them, said "Scar", ran her fingers across one of his and repeated the word and then turned, sweeping her hair away from the back of her neck and her naked back, where there was one perfectly circular scar, a very old burn. "Scar." Francis had never seen them. But then he had never seen her without almost being completely covered in silks and satins. They weren't important scars, nothing she should be proud of. She reached her arm up and traced her fingers over the circular burn, then drew her arms back, hugging them around herself.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

He understood what she was trying to do. She sought to teach him her language. That was not proper. As his wife, she must learn the language of the Maori. He pointed at his scars: "moko" He pointed at her scars: "moko". As she'd shown an interest in his tattoos he pointed at them and said: "ta moko".

He looked her over. No tattoos visible. "How come you don't have any tattoos" he asked her, realising it was futile as she'd only understand the word for tattoo, if that. He smiled nevertheless. He grabbed her shoulder and smiled still, strong white teeth appearing as he did so. "I will teach you our language when you become my wife. Our children will be strong like me and beautiful like you!"