Taming Shreya

Two days have passed. Two long, grueling days of trudging through densely forested hills, the thick canopy above providing little respite from the unrelenting journey. Shreya has grown weaker with every step. Her feet drag, her face pale, and her eyes hollow with exhaustion. Still, she refuses to say a word about her tribe. Every time you stop to rest, she collapses to the ground, and without fail, the tears begin to fall. You watch her cry, but feel no urge to comfort her. She is stubborn, but hunger and thirst will wear down her defiance.

On the morning of the third day, the sun hangs high in the sky, its heat merciless. Sweat pours from your body as you pause on the trail, reaching for your waterskin to take a long, refreshing gulp. Shreya’s gaze falls upon you, her eyes silently pleading for a drink.

"You want some water, lovely?" you ask with a sly smile.

Her lips tighten. “I’ve told you not to call me that,” she mutters, barely audible.

"Do you want to drink or not?" you say, ignoring her protest.

"...Yes," she finally whispers, her voice cracking under the weight of her thirst. “Please.”

“Please what?” you prod, your tone mocking, knowing exactly what you want her to say.

She glares at you, her jaw clenched. "I’m not calling you that, fucker," she spits, defiant even in her weakened state.

"Oh well, what a pity," you reply with a shrug, moving to put the waterskin away.

“WAIT!” she cries out, desperation clear in her voice.

You pause, looking at her with mild curiosity.

“Please,” she says again, this time quieter, her gaze cast down in shame. “Let me drink… Master.”

A grin spreads across your face. “Good girl.” You stroke her hair as you bring the waterskin to her lips, watching as she drinks eagerly, too exhausted to resist further.

Hours pass, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows as you follow an animal trail. The narrow path snakes through the trees, and you press onward, Shreya trailing behind, tied to your waist. The forest feels quieter than usual, the air thick with the tension of the unknown. And then, without warning, figures emerge from the trees ahead.

Your heart quickens, and your hand instinctively reaches for your spear. Shreya's eyes light up with sudden hope, and you can feel her energy shift beside you. Are they Greensnakes?

You take a moment to study the group. No snake necklaces. You relax your grip on the spear, your pulse settling. Shreya’s brief spark of hope fades, and she sinks back into her sad, defeated state.

You raise your hand in greeting. “Greetings!” you call out.

The group, led by an older man with a long gray beard, pauses to meet your gaze. He is dressed in a simple tunic woven from plant fibers, and behind him are another man, three women, and two children.

“I salute you,” the old man replies, his voice strong despite his age. You notice Shreya casting furtive glances at the group, as if considering asking for help. Sensing the danger, you react quickly.

“I am Supilu, son of Imar, from the High Lands. This,” you say, gesturing to Shreya, “is my ****. I have some food—it would be my pleasure to share it with you.”

By introducing her as a ****, you preempt any attempt she might make to plead for their aid. They will see her for what she is—a captive, bound by the laws of conquest.

The old man smiles warmly. “We have food to share as well. Let us eat together.” Following the ancient customs of hospitality, both groups sit together, exchanging food to break bread. It’s a simple snack, but the act of sharing binds the moment in ritual.

As you chew, you speak casually. “I suppose you know what lies to the east?”

“Of course,” the old man replies between bites. “We come from the current camp of the Tall Bears. They’re camped about a day from here, on the banks of the Muddy River.”

“That’s good to know,” you reply, feeling a sense of relief. “That’s where I’m headed.”

The old man nods. “And how about the west? Any news from there?”

“Not much,” you say. “If you head straight west, there’s no camp that I’m aware of. But I suspect the Greensnakes may be nearby.”

At the mention of the Greensnakes, the old man’s face darkens. “The Greensnakes? They certainly have a bad reputation…” His eyes shift to Shreya, noticing her necklace for the first time. “She…?”

“I had a run-in with a Greensnake group,” you say coldly, eyes hardening. “I have a personal vendetta against their tribe, so I took ****. She was traveling with them, so I claimed her as a trophy. She belongs to me, by right of conquest.”

The old man regards you with a somber expression. “A vendetta? What kind?”

“My family,” you answer simply, letting the weight of the word hang in the air.

He nods slowly, his face filled with understanding. “Ah, I see. In that case, you’re only doing justice, Supilu. I understand completely.” His gaze drifts to Shreya, and he raises an eyebrow. “If you ask me, you’ve gained yourself a rather fine compensation.”

Shreya flinches at his words, her expression one of shock. Slowly, she begins to understand the full weight of your manipulation, the way you've trapped her into her role as your captive, with no hope of escape. Her shoulders sag, and she retreats once more into her sad, resentful silence.

As you finish the last bite of your snack, something feels off. Glancing around, you notice that only two of the women from the group are seated with you. Curious, your eyes drift toward the nearby woods, and there, half-obscured by the trees, stands the third woman. She watches you, her gaze unwavering and enigmatic.

She is petite but curvaceous, her body full and soft in all the right places. Her breasts, round and generous, sway gently with the movement of the wind, her long, silky black hair flowing down her back like a river of ink. Her large, brown eyes are fixed on you, her full lips slightly parted, as though beckoning you to draw closer. To your astonishment, she is completely naked, her body shamelessly on display for you. The sight stirs something primal within you, her beauty undeniable.

"Seems like Kiki's taken a liking to you," the old man comments with a knowing grin, pulling your attention back to the present.

"Who is she?" you ask, still holding her gaze, intrigued by both her boldness and the mystery that surrounds her.

The old man chuckles lightly. "To be honest, I don’t rightly know. She appeared out of nowhere a few days ago. She’s quiet, keeps to herself, but we let her tag along. My son over there has mounted her a few times. Seems she’s got no objections. Maybe she’ll give me some grandsons if she sticks around long enough." He glances over at Kiki and then back at you. "If you’re interested, you can take her. She’s not family or anything."

You raise an eyebrow at the old man’s casual offer and glance at his son, the other man of the group. He catches your eye and merely shrugs.

"You fine with that?" you ask, trying to gauge the man’s thoughts.

The old man’s son waves it off, his tone dismissive. "Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m not attached to her. It’s not like I’m gonna marry her or anything. If she’s got eyes for you, then good for her—and you, I guess."

Kiki’s gaze never wavers, as though she’s waiting for you to make the next move, her body still in the shadows, yet calling to you as if under some ancient, wordless spell. You consider the offer, the ease with which the group is willing to share her, and you sense no tension between them. It’s as if she’s been drifting among them like a passing breeze—present, but never truly belonging to anyone.

The forest seems to grow quieter, the sounds of the evening fading away as you contemplate the strange, alluring woman standing before you, waiting for your decision.