The Predator

Chapter One The eyesight that blesses Luda with the inordinate ability to spot prey also allows her to instantly perceive that which moves. And on the remote Great Plains, miles and miles of grassy wilderness, things that move either eat or are to be eaten. Luda is a predator. It is she who eats. She spurs her horse. “Giddup, Steel.” Not a full gallop. Just enough so that the prey will panic to the sound of the hoof beats. Such reaction will cause flight, desperate flight. That will expend energy. And so when Luda’s stallion finally overtakes, any struggle will be brief. The exhausted will quickly succumb. Not that Luda needs an advantage. At six foot her well-muscled frame, lightning quick hands and razor sharp knife imbue her with the ability to prevail against all adversaries. Even the fierce Sioux Indians won’t confront her. She and her possessions are sacrosanct. Steel’s more myopic eyes eventually spy the target and Luda loosens the directing reins. The duo has so many times engaged in the hunt. There is no further guidance required. Steel will pursue and trick the target into running in the proper direction. This will minimize the effect of the wind. Then he will close to within thirty feet and turn to the left. This will allow the right-handed Luda to cast her lasso. When roped, Steel will know to lunge further left, instantly closing the loop and tightening the rope to bring the prey down with a snap of the line. The deed done, Steel stands ready to move should the prey resist, maintaining tension on the line secured to the saddle. This permits Luda to dismount and use both hands in further subduing the prey. It is intuitive, and should there be unexpected resistance, Steel will drag the prey about the grassy plains until complete submission is attained. “No! Let me go!” The man vocalizes as Luda’s alacritous hands retract numerous lengths of leather from her waist belt and bind hands then feet. He thrashes but knows he is captured. His resistance is more a display of futility than concerted effort. Should he survive, his male pride will allow him to boisterously declare that he fought valiantly. Luda remains silent, assuring the task is complete. When satisfied that her prey cannot escape she removes the lasso, leaving her victim hogtied, wrists and ankles secured behind his back. She steps back to survey the fully developed but youthful captive. She indeed has the needed prize. With summer ending, she must move her camp south and with the hundreds of miles of rugged terrain she does not want to wear out Steel. Still she requires labor. Forced labor. And what easier beast to train and subdue than the human. Luda smiles in gazing at the frightened face. The man is handsome. Not much past his teens. Doodie will be pleased, and though that is not paramount, a pleased Doodie will make the long journey more pleasant. He looks up beseechingly and squeals as Luda unsheathes her knife. It menacingly glints in the afternoon sun, evidencing the hours and hours of honing which Doodie dutifully provides while Luda rests. She approaches her prey and he squirms most pitifully. ‘He thinks I am going to gut him,’ Luda concludes, inwardly smiling. “Lie still, I want to see what you look like.” Though deep, her voice finally reveals her gender and her prey looks up astonished. At six foot, Luda’s animal skin covered frame makes for a very imposing image. In the excitement of the hunt, the man did not realize he was pursued by a woman. Despite his fear he gapes at her bare thighs and calves, a singular combination of sculpted muscling and feminine curvature. Luda stoops and slips the knife point under the man’s belt. Her strength and the chilling sharpness quickly snap its tautness. Then she leans further and after a dozen broad but well directed sweeping strokes, the knife shreds every inch of the man’s garments leaving wrists and ankles bound. The knife is invaginated and Luda’s hands tug and toss aside the torn remnants. But for his boots, she strips her prey of both clothing and pride. This is the way Luda has learned to hunt the male, ensuring both physical and mental submission. Naked males resist so ineffectively. And it is best to acclimate the man soon. Timely subservience saves effort and pain, though her victim will soon find the latter to be unending. “If you’re good, I will let you keep your boots. Resist and you’ll be walking barefoot. Resist more and you will leave behind that which you most desire to keep.” Luda emphasizes her threat by pressing the toe of her boot against the man’s genitals. The threat is real. Doodie can attest to that. His incessant resistance resulted in quick castration. And now he is the most loyal of companions, a neutered pet. And in life’s irony, night after night he now labors to sharpen the knife that ended his maleness. “I’m lost. Take me back to my wagon train.” Yes, Luda had spotted the long formation of Conestogas yesterday. Whoever this man is, he is not overly relevant. The wagon train has moved on west without him. He has been meandering southward. An unlikely direction to be taken in attempting to rejoin his group. Then the glint of metal catches Luda’s eye. A cloth bag, tossed aside when she stripped the man, has fallen open and its contents catch the sun’s rays. Luda bends and picks it up. It contains jewelry. Ladies jewelry. “Yours?” The man cannot effectively deny, but instead vainly waffles. “I don’t know how it got there.” It is the brazen lie of a very bad thief. “You like jewelry. Like it enough the steal. Then you deserve to toil for me. What’s your name?” “Max.” “Well Max, I am Luda. Miss Luda or ma’am to you. Work hard and you may survive. Resist and you’ll feel pain. Escape and you’ll die.” Luda knows that words are ineffectual. She reaches into the bag. There is a brooch. Silver studded with gems. She smiles, bends down and callously jabs the pin through Max’s left n****e. He screams in pain. She ignores and nimbly closes the clasp. Luda aloofly selects another brooch. This one is gold. She pauses to closely examine. It is a very expensively crafted piece. There is reason to deliberate, but Luda has no time to think. Max’s right n****e is also cruelly pierced. Another scream results. “Pain. There is much to be dispensed,” Luda lectures as she flicks the adornments with her fingers, stressing her point and bringing forth gasps of agony. The gold brooch again captures her attention, but darkness looms. The completion of Max’s capture predominates. With another length of leather, Max finds his scrotum looped. The lasso is tied to this testicle binding and his ankles are released. Luda mounts. Darkness nears and camp is an hour away. Doodie will be waiting with a hot meal and a well-stoked fire. “Come, Max. Be a good boy.” Unseen by Max the thief, Luda smiles for the first time. ‘Easily done,’ she thinks to herself. ‘And to happen upon on a beast that will not be missed by the sparse and transient population is most serendipitous. I wonder if he’s ever been in Chicago.’ Steel moderates the pace of his long strides as Max scurries behind at the end of the rope. ‘We’ll learn of his stamina quite readily,’ Luda realizes. ‘Hopefully such is better than his skills as a larcenist.’