Anaea dunked her head under the crystal clear waters of the lagoon and ran her fingers through her floating hair. The white sand on the lagoon floor twirled into clouds of smoke as it was disturbed by the strong kicks that kept Anaea afloat. Small fish living in the freshwater lagoon swam around Anaea in large schools. Above, in the clear blue sky, brightly coloured birds swooped and danced. Flocks of them sat in the branches of trees that overhung the lagoon. They watched for the fish that strayed too close to the surface and dropped down to snatch them up with their talons.

Anaea swam into the shallows and walked the rest of the way onto the beach. Her tanned, strong body shone like polished bronze in the late-afternoon sun. She was naked from head to toe except for a thin leather anklet on her right foot. She ran a hand through her brown hair, slicking it back against her head. Sitting on the beach, guarding her clothes, sat her prisoner-turned-husband. Anaea waded through the thigh deep water towards the man called Batavia. He wore only a pair of tattered wool braccae and a leather bracelet identical to the one worn around Anaea’s ankle. 

He had the rough, browned skin of a man who had spent a lifetime travelling the sea. His dark beard and hair were flecked with white as he matured like only men could. Anaea liked that about him. He wore his grey proudly as a sign of maturity and experience instead of trying to hide it and masquerade as youth. At that moment, however, her husband’s dignity was bruised somewhat by the rope that bound his hands. He sat on the white sand, protecting Anaea’s clothes like a loyal dog. Anaea lay down on the hot sand next to him and stretched her toned body, smiling with satisfaction. Her feet dug into the sand, finding the cooler layer underneath. She arched her back, showing off her impressive pair of breasts as she cuddled up beside Batavia.

The two of them lay in the sand, looking up at the darkening sky and listening to the songs of the birds in the trees. They enjoyed each other’s silent company for several minutes before Batavia spoke. 

His voice was the gentle rumble of a strong man who knew when to be soft. The sort of voice soldiers who were used to barking orders reserved for their wives alone. 

‘When can I have these ropes removed?’ he asked.

Anaea rolled onto her side, squashing her breasts together between her arms as she looked into her husband’s dark eyes. 

‘They want me to wait another month. They didn’t like what you did three weeks ago’ she answered.

Anaea was referring to the night when she had drunkenly released Batavia from his bondage after bringing him back to the island. In her inebriated state she had untied him in order to have sex with him and then fallen asleep before rebinding him. When he was found asleep next to her the following morning, many of the warriors of the village wanted to exile him. A foreigner could not be allowed to roam free before he was trusted. They would have killed him if he wasn’t claimed by Anaea. In the end it was agreed that he was to be kept bound and never left alone until the village shaman gave him her blessing. 

‘Does it hurt?’ Anaea asked, rubbing Batavia’s wrists. 

‘It’s starting to rub raw’ he replied.

‘I’ll take it off when we get back home but not while we’re out here’ she told him.

Batavia frowned and snorted with frustration. Though he had chosen to stay on the island and live with Anaea, he weeks of constant bondage were rapidly wearing his nerves thin. The pain was one thing, but the humiliation of it was salt in the wound. 

‘Want something to take the edge off?’ Anaea asked with a smile.

‘What were you thinking?’

Anaea smirked and moved on top of her husband. She tugged down the front of his trousers until they were around his knees. Batavia smiled as his young wife took his cock in her hand and began to massage it into life. A moment later she took the tip of it into her mouth and playfully suckled on it. She looked up into her husband’s eyes as she lowered her mouth over more and more of his rod, enveloping it in her plump lips. The taste of clean water on his dick was quickly licked away by Anaea’s eager tongue.
She pulled the slick shaft from her mouth and stroked it up and down rapidly, reading the expressions and sounds from Batavia. She licked on his balls as she stroked him, sometimes taking both testicles into her mouth to force a groan from her husband. She returned the shaft to her mouth and pushed down until a gag forced her to take a breath. For several more minutes bobbed her head up on down over Batavia’s cock. She slurped and sucked on hard flesh, forcing groans of bliss out of her husband until one final moan announced his climax.

There was a rush of hot fluid into Anaea’s mouth. The bitter taste settled on her tongue as the slime flooded and coated her mouth. She squeezed Batavia’s balls and stroked his shaft, milking the last few drops of cum from him. She held it in her mouth long enough to show her husband the small pool of white slime before she dribbled it onto her breasts and rubbed it in. She massaged the creamy jizz into her skin until her breasts shone with it. 

‘Feel better?’ she asked with a grin.

‘Better. I’d still like it off though’ Batavia replied, sleepily.

‘When we get back to the hut’ Anaea promised.  

Anaea wiped her mouth and pulled her husband’s trousers up his legs. As he tied the rope that held his trousers up, he watched his wife run back into the water to wash away the sand and sperm from her body. She returned a moment later to dress herself in the white silk tunic and golden armour of the Jorosian warriors. She took the rope that bound her husband’s wrists and led him into the foliage, back towards the village.

                                                                  + + +

By the time they reached the scattered village the sun had set and the bird songs had ceased, to be replaced by cricket chirps and the sounds of the evening’s relaxation. Fires burned in their pits in front of huts where women and their husbands prepared dinner. At the village centre a bonfire roared and those who wanted a more social dinner gathered to feast and drink. The village’s children, all girls of various ages, ran about and played in the warm light of the village torches. 

By his leash, Anaea led her husband past the bonfire and along torch-lit paths through the village until they reached her small hut in a quiet corner of the village. The nearby huts were dark and quiet; their owners no doubt down by the chieftess’s bonfire or enjoying their evening elsewhere. As Anaea approached the door to her home, she saw two of her fellow warriors exit their own hut at the bottom of the path. Down the hill, at the very edge of the village and hidden by a hedge of flowering bushes was their home; a place where the children were strictly forbidden to play near and where even the adults of the village chose not to visit. 

Batavia saw the expression of fear and disgust on Anaea’s face as the two women walked by. The shorter of the two blew a mocking kiss to Anaea, which was answered with a sneer. The shorter warrior laughed sinisterly and hurried after her companion. Batavia raised an eyebrow.

‘Who were they?’ he asked, watching as the two warriors disappeared off to places unknown.

‘Zaladra and Obeka. Don’t ever talk to them. They are…evil woman’ Anaea warned.

Without another word she ushered her husband inside and slid the bolt into place. She lit the fire pit in the centre of the hut and finally undid the knots around her husband’s wrists. 

With his hands now freed, Batavia took his wife in a deep hug, kissing her neck and cheeks as his hands caressed the soft fabric that hugged her hard body. 

‘Would you like dinner first, Batavia?’ Anaea asked, smiling as her husband’s hands squeezed her soft places. 

An hour later they were sat around their small fire and watched the large fish cook. It had been a bright pink colour when it was first fished out of the sea but the flames had turned the skin nearly black while the rich flesh underneath became a pale colour. The juicy meat was eaten off clay plates while Anaea and Batavia sat together, silently watching the flames dance. The smoke drifted out through a gap in the thatched roof that could be sealed when it rained or opened to allow the smoke out or fresh air in. 

Anaea stripped pale flesh off the narrow bones and ate it quietly while her husband shifted food around his plate.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, seeing how little he had eaten.

‘Just curious. Who were those women?’ he replied.

‘It doesn’t matter. Just keep away from them and they should have no business with you’ Anaea replied. 

‘I haven’t seen them around before. I thought I’d met everyone’ Batavia said.

‘They’re part of the mainland team. They only come back every few months’ Anaea explained. ‘Don’t worry about them’.

                                                                + + +

The new day began with several, sharp knocks on the wooden door to Anaea and Batavia’s hut. At the time the two of them had been loosely embraced under a blanket of fur. Their naked bodies were intertwined after a night of love-making. It was not how Jorosian warriors were expected to treat their husbands. At the sound of the knocks, Anaea sprang into life. She rolled out of bed and grabbed the silk rope that hung from the hut’s central beam. As Batavia was only beginning to stir, he had his hands yanked out of the covers of the bed. Anaea quickly tied the rope into a loose knot around her husband’s wrists and pushed him into the corner. He was still too sleepy to protest and did not fight back as he was put in his place.

Still nude, Anaea answered the door. The dawn sun flooded the room and fell across the warrior’s tanned skin. Her tight muscles were perfectly defined for a moment as the light hit her at just the right angle. Standing on the other side of the door was a warrior Batavia had not yet met. She was older than Anaea and wore the elaborate armour of the Jorosian warriors. 
 
‘Good morning, Anaea. I have a message from the chieftess’, the woman said. ‘She wants your husband to join the fishermen today. He’s had time to settle in and has to start pulling his weight’.

‘I understand. I’ll make sure he’s shown the way’ Anaea answered and closed the door. She strolled back to her bed and collapsed onto the fur.

From his corner, Batavia watched as his wife lay on their bed and wrapped herself up in the fur blanket. 
‘Hey! Don’t go back to sleep. At least untie me first’, he said.

Anaea responded with a groan from under her blanket. She rolled over again and lifted her legs towards the grass roof. She stretched her long, tanned legs upwards, lifting her backside off the ground as her strong abdominal muscles contracted. The sight of her elegant feet and graceful legs pointed upwards reminded Batavia of the night he had first met his future “wife” as she lay naked on his bed. What followed that excellent night had been more of a surprise than the initial encounter but Batavia found it hard to be angry. End of the day, he still believed he had gained more than he had lost by being brought to this place. 

‘It’s still early. I’ll take you down to the docks in a few hours’, she answered.

‘Untie me then’, Batavia said.

‘No. I think I’ll keep the bed to myself for now’, Anaea replied, flashing her husband a sly grin.

Batavia tugged on his silk rope but knew from previous experience it was pointless. It would easier to chew through the wooden beam than to try snapping the silk. He glared at his naked wife as she continued to stretch and writhe around naked on their bed. Anaea knew he was watching and made sure to put on a good show. She squeezed her breasts and cycled her long legs, occasionally throwing out a few delighted moans to keep him interested. Then, with a satisfied sigh, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

                                                                 + + +

The Joros dockyard was a small collection of warehouses and piers that jutted out into the clear sea. It was here that most of the island’s men were gathered; thin, timid creatures that warily regarded Batavia when he was introduced to them. Some of them sat with fishing rods at the ends of the piers, collecting dinner for their wives, while others sat in the shade of the palm trees and whittled away at wooden objects. 

‘What am I expected to do?’, Batavia asked, looking around the lagoon.

‘If a warrior comes down and tells you to do something, you’ll do it. Otherwise, just make yourself useful. Help the boats if they come in, fish, do repairs. That fishing boat over there has been sitting in dock for months,’ Anaea said, pointing out the small boat with the tip of her spear. ‘Oh, and don’t talk too much’, Anaea added. 

‘Sounds boring’, her husband quickly pointed out.

‘It most certainly will be. Until your talents are shown, this is where you will dumped each day’, Anaea said. Then she whispered gently, ‘I’ll try move you somewhere better as soon as I can’.

With that, Anaea walked away, back up the path. Batavia looked back at the collection of little men he now called his equals. He sighed and wandered over to the docked boat that was floating at the end of one pier. It looked a bit leaky and Batavia’s sailor history could not allow that to continue.

Anaea returned to the village and followed the path to the warrior lodge where her sisters trained and sparred. What she saw when she arrived was the majority of the warriors assembled out front. Some were full warriors, like Anaea, while others were matrons – warriors who had given birth – and the small portion of junior warriors who had yet to claim a husband. The chieftess was with them. 

‘I wasn’t told there was a gathering’, Anaea said when she joined the group.

‘We were about to send a messenger for you’, the chieftess replied. ‘A fishing boat reported slave ships near the gate’.

‘Are they coming towards us?’ Anaea asked. Slave ships in these waters weren’t uncommon but none dared come towards the gate.

‘No but they are sailing very close. I’m organising a raiding party to go sink it’, the chieftess explained. 

‘Understood, chieftess’, Anaea said. ‘Who is on the party?’

‘You’ve been spending a lot of time with that husband; perhaps you should go’, the chieftess said.

Anaea hid her disappointment. Raiding slave ships was sure to fun and it would be the first time she would be going out as a fully-fledged warrior, but it would mean being away from Batavia for a few days. She was still keen on their daily love-making. She swallowed her displeasure and put on a proud face.

‘I would be honoured to, chieftess’.

‘Good. Go find your things and meet us here as soon as you can’, the chieftess dismissed before returning her attention to the other women. 

Anaea quickly returned to her hut and collected her things. Supplies would be organised at the dock so all she would need is her armour, weapons and whatever non-essentials she wanted to bring. She undid her gold and silk armour as that was just ceremonial and not at all good during a raid. For the raid she would need dark armour that didn’t shine like the sun. Instead she chose a set of dark leather clothes with small, dulled metal plates across the torso for added protection. Headwear was a leather cap with a hanging chainmail mask that covered her face except for her eyes. Jorosians didn’t wear shoes or boots. On a boat it would only make them more likely to slip so they were forgone but shin and thigh protection was still worn. None of this would be worn until the raiding party was close to the slave ship. It was too hot and bulky to be worn during the day or on a boat with no sun protection. Anaea and the rest of the party would dress lightly, or go completely nude if thye chose. Until them Anaea wore a silk skirt and breast wrap. 
Next Anaea found her weapons. She had many to choose from but decided that a short sword and two daggers would suffice for this raid. She checked the blade for sharpness and wondered how long it would have to wait until it was blooded. She could already imagine sinking it into the cut of a slaver or slashing it across a few throats. She felt giddy with excitement until she remembered she would be leaving Batavia. She would have to speak with him again.

She left her armour and weapons organised in her hut and ran down to the docks. Batavia had dragged one of the fishing boats onto the beach and was inspecting it for holes. He didn’t see Anaea until she was right behind him and she surprised him with a dagger to the throat.

‘You should watch yourself, husband. All sorts of beasties on this island’ she whispered to him.

‘Do they all kill their husbands?’ he replied.

‘Some of us. Give me a daughter and I’ll have no further use for you’, Anaea said, playfully running the blade across the bristles of Batavia’s beard. 

‘That’s a pretty good reason for me not to’, Batavia pointed out.

‘True, but you won’t have a choice when it happens’.

‘So have you come to check if I’d run away?’

‘No. I’m being sent on a raid. I’ll be gone for a few nights’.

‘And what of me?’

‘Just stay here unless one of the warriors tells you otherwise. Sleep in the hut, keep busy and don’t go exploring’, Anaea ordered.
‘Simple enough’.

‘I mean it. If you annoy them they can kill you, or exile you to another island’, Anaea warned. 

‘I know how to keep my head down. Don’t worry’, Batavia assured her. He turned around to face Anaea and moved the knife away from his face.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence. To the other men at the dock it looked as if they were staring each other down, but Batavia and Anaea knew it was only a silent farewell. 

‘I’ll miss you’, Anaea whispered before quickly departing. She left Batavia to watch silently as she climbed the path back to where her sisters were awaiting her.