Copyright 1997
Disclaimer: This is fiction.

He watched her as she took up the flask and a woven basket and disappeared down the path that led to the stream without a backward glance. She would not risk showing him her face; but her body told as much as her visage would have. Her posture spoke of resentment, her gait of irritation. There was no affection in her now.

He shifted carefully on the pallet of skins, cradling his injured arm, and tried to find a less uncomfortable position. This resentment toward him had been more and more apparent as the days had passed and his infirmity had not abated. There had always been moments of tension between them, of course -- only one of them could be dominant, and in all family units the leader was tested on occasion; but she was no match for his size and strength, and the end of every skirmish had found her pinned, helpless, while his open hand reaffirmed his ascendancy on her roundest, tenderest region. She was fortunate, in his opinion, that he had never caused her serious injury. Some of his fellows were not so careful with their females. This worked to his own advantage, of course, for when such an unlucky female was rendered unusable and the former mate went looking for a replacement, the threat of capture by a more brutal male suddenly enhanced his own desirability in her eyes.

He caught himself smiling in recollection, and brought himself back with some effort to the problem at hand. Normally he and the female shared the tasks of survival equally -- gathering the grains, fruits, and nuts in season, trapping small game, and catching fish. Rarely they happened on larger game, and then his extra speed and strength proved useful; but mostly those traits were used for fending off their fellow men. Now she was doing almost all the work, plus having to act as his other hand, and she blamed and resented him for it; and he was also looking less viable as a protector with every passing day. This was bad. It was not going to be easy -- his arm was still agonizingly painful when tested -- but the female needed to be shown that he was not yet ready to be cast aside. He began to plan his demonstration.

He had plenty of leisure to plot. It was nearly dark by the time she returned with a flask of water and a basket full of food. He had taken up a new position in the meantime and was now seated with his back against the trunk of a large, low-spreading tree. He called to her to come and help him up, and could not miss the annoyance that flared in her eyes before she controlled herself. She came and gave him her hand, and as he rose he tugged her off balance, guiding her into the crotch formed by the tree's lowest branch and its trunk. Before she knew what he was about, he was sitting on her back, pinning her, and had free access to her unprotected lower half. He produced from underneath the bad arm still cradled at his side the stout switch he had hidden earlier and made immediate and grim use of it. The female screeched and writhed; but it was useless against his determination and greater weight, and he painted a warning with lines of fire across her wriggling backside. When at last he was convinced that she understood his message, he let her up, and bade her prove her comprehension by pleasuring him.

Pleasure him she did, as always after such demonstrations, and as always he fell asleep with a smile and another memory for his collection.

After he was still, she slid from his arms and crept away to where she had left the basket and the flask. She twisted to see her still-heated rear end, gasping at the confusion of red lines that criss-crossed the buttocks and then admiring the rosy glow that suffused the whole region. It was attractive, even to her own eyes, and she knew it would make the second part of her plan easier -- but first she must carry out the first. She picked up the large rock she used to smash open the thick-shelled nuts and moved silently to where the male lay; then she brought it down on his skull with all the force she could muster. The first blow killed, she thought, but she kept striking until there could be no doubt at all. With a sigh of relief, perhaps tinged with regret, she tossed the rock aside and bent to her next task. a woman with a firm, round backside was desirable; a woman with a firm, round backside recently reddened and striped was even more desirable; but a woman with a firm, round backside recently reddened and striped *and* a large supply of fresh meat was irresistible, indeed.

Elsie dePlume

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