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View this author's other titles LENGTH: Short Story Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2004
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Shana of Themis is an Amazonian warrior and it’s come time for her to conceive. It’s the law of her all female race. Only, she doesn’t wish for a baby. Captain James Alexander, answering a fake distress call, has been taken captive by the Amazonians and made a child giver. He thinks only of escape until he meets his reluctant captor. Can love overcome centuries of tradition? Rating: Contains very explicit sex, mild bondage, anal sex, graphic language, may offend delicate readers.
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By Madelyn Porter
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Dedication:
Chapter One
Shana of Themis took a deep breath and thought, Here we go again. Shana was an Amazonian warrior--tall, slender, strong. She liked fighting, liked manning the starships, liked adventure and freedom. It was why she resented being forced into motherhood. She’d known all her life that the time would come for her to get with child. Time had not brought her acceptance of the role, in fact, she’d volunteered for several dangerous missions just to put the event off. With her waist length brown hair and her round blue eyes, she knew she was considered beautiful to humanoid males. In fact, because of this beauty, they seemed to think her less of a warrior. It was a logic she couldn’t understand. Her body was muscled from years of exercise, and she moved with a lithe grace and elegance from that training. Her breasts were full, with dark nipples, ones the men liked to touch for some reason. After the first two child giver prisoners had stared incoherently at them, she’d covered her breasts up to hide them from view. Beauty held little place in Amazonian society. The Amazons were a class of women, warriors first and foremost, though some chose to be farmers and laborers. They were self-sufficient, bold. If men were allowed to stay with them, they were no better than slaves--preparing food, cleaning, sewing, orally attending to his mistress’ pleasure when called upon. A man’s place was kneeling before his mistress. If not for their one great purpose, giving children, the women of Cherron might not have bothered with men at all. Shana preferred fighting, for it was better than being stuck nurturing a babe or toiling away in the fields. Frowning, she looked at the metal door leading to male prisoner 564. The door was just one in a long line down the metal corridor. This was her nineteenth effort to conceive a child. The eighteen men who’d come before 564 had failed to get her pregnant. According to Amazonian law, she had to try at least twenty times before she was officially discharged of the motherhood duty. Shana planned on being discharged. It was evening on Cherron, sister planet to Earth. Long ago, their race of women warriors came to the planet and set up their own civilization, using portals to go to Earth to find warriors on the male dominated planet for breeding purposes. Now, with the universe more open, they didn’t have to go to Earth to find men. They could kidnap them from starships, or lure them with false signals of distress. Men always seemed to fall for the little woman needs help routine. Male slaves were too small to be much good to them as child givers, but their mouths worked just fine when it came to oral stimulation. Of course, it was illegal for the favor to be returned, and such pleasure could only be begotten twice a season from a single slave. It kept the women from bonding with their slaves, and kept the slaves from becoming possessive. If a slave, who had the right to refuse giving oral service, was caught giving more than his share, he was immediately executed. The Amazons needed strong, warrior males with good human genes to breed with, to keep their race strong and superior. And, thanks to genetic manipulations, all babies were now female. To keep from forming attachments to child givers, they were only allowed to sleep with a prisoner one time before moving onto the next captive. Once a man succeeded in impregnating a woman, they were often killed. It wouldn’t do if a woman became too attached to the father of her child, or for there to be competition. Shaman Cyrsten had instigated the ritual killings nearly thirty years before, after her daughter ran away with a child giver. Cyrsten was said to have hunted down her daughter and her daughter’s lover, slaying them in their bed. It served as a great warning to those who would try to find love. Shana didn’t want love. She didn’t feel the need for it. Whatever desires she had could easily be found on her own. But, she also didn’t like the ritual killings. She much preferred it when the men were drugged and let go, as in the old days. Or rather, she’d choose to go back to the ancient ways--sending their virgins out to encampments of men, breeding, and running away. Back then, they used to drop off any male children to their fathers and keep the females in their tribes. Looking down at her body, she waited for the guard to open the metal door. Her white gown hung limply over her form, hiding its curves from view. She took a deep breath, having timed exactly about how long she’d need to stay in the room before she could leave and not draw suspicion. Suddenly, a click sounded and she looked up. The door slid up and Shana stepped inside the cell. Another click sounded and the door silently closed. The prison quarters were all the same. A bed was set up in the middle of the room, a man strapped to the top. His wrists were bound to his sides, so he couldn’t fight, and his ankles were tied together, keeping his legs straight. It’d been found that men didn’t need their limbs to be aroused. In fact, many of them needed little more than visual stimulation--thus why Shana covered her figure with the ugly gown. Walking over to the table, she eyed the large naked man. He was well formed and she could just imagine the pleasure she would’ve had meeting him on the field of battle. She itched to let him go, to give him a sword, and see what he could do with it. The prisoner’s thighs were strong, thick with muscles. His arms were the same, bulging in a way a woman’s never could. She tried to be dispassionate as she eyed his dark skin, his lean hips, his limp member nestled in dark hair. She only had eighteen to compare it to, but it looked larger than the others. It was of no concern to her. She wouldn’t be taking it inside. Tilting her head, her face was dispassionate as she walked around him, looking him over as if he were a horse used for breeding. It was about the same thing, only the Amazonian respected and liked horses. He had good features--very masculine in appearance. His shaved jaw was almost square, his cheekbones chiseled and defined. He had dark hair, cut short, graying at the temples. She guessed by his features that he was about thirty five years. His deep-set eyes were closed to her and she knew he slept. Stopping at his feet, she continued to stare. If ever she did want a man, she imagined he’d be her choice. He smelled good, a faint trace of human cologne. Usually she liked the smell of sweat and nature, not artificial fragrance, but on him it seemed fitting. A knock sounded on the metal door and Shana turned to see the face peering in through the window. The guard’s eyes were stern and Shana nodded once in her direction. The guard would be back to check on her in ten minutes so she’d better get started. Turning back to the prisoner, she froze. Bright green eyes stared at her, making her instantly numb. Now that was a strange reaction to have. She looked down at her chest. Her nipples were tingling--also very strange. "564," Shana stated, her voice even, hard. "You have been given your pills?" The man continued to stare at her. His lips curled slightly at the side. A jolt went through her system, making cream drip down her thighs. She knew what the reaction was, but she’d only had it alone after prodding her body to respond, or using a slave’s tongue. Never had a man’s look done it to her. "I’ll tell you, like I told the others, baby doll," the prisoner stated. His low voice was like silk, making more cream build. Shana looked down her body, not giving anything away in her expression. "Let me go, or you’ll be sorry. I’ve no wish to be a daddy." Captain James Alexander eyed the trim beauty before him. Lucky for him, these women spoke his language, and he’d overheard their plans. Answering a distress call on their way back from a mission, he’d transported himself and two others down to the planet to help out, unaware that it would be a trap.
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