"The only good Injun's a dead Injun!" What American boy has not heard those words; perhaps even uttered them himself as he strapped on his first toy pistol and played Cowboys and Indians.
The American Indian has long suffered cruelty and prejudice that can, perhaps, be closely paralleled to that suffered by other minority groups in our country today. And, in Apache Vengeance, author has illustrated it most vividly in one sentence, the words of Josh Barker:
"What the hell, she was only an Injun squaw!"
The staff of life for the Plains Indian was the buffalo. The huge, ponderous beast provided him with the food he needed for survival, the leather for clothing and shelter. From the buffalo came bone for needles and hunting bows, tallow for light, and glue from his hooves. Even heat was provided by the animal's bodily waste. Virtually the Indians' entire existence and survival was dependent upon the buffalo.
Apache Vengeance is the story of the Buffalo Skinner, the man who in only a few short years left the Plains strewn with the rotting carcasses and bleached bones of the buffalo-wiping out the huge, roaming herds solely for the robes and hides that had become so fashionable in the salons of the East and Europe.
It is the story of an Apache Chiefs love for an Indian girl and the bloody trail of vengeance that followed after he was made to watch as she was viciously raped by drunken buffalo skinners. It is also the story of two girls, Victoria Stratton and Amy Potter, who fell into the vengeful hands of Black Elk, the Apache Chief.
But, perhaps more than anything else, it is the vivid account of Man's inhumanity to the Plains Indian and the resulting holocaust of rape and plunder that followed.
We, the Publishers, offer our gratitude to author Gaylord Smith for what we consider to be an objective, in depth, study of cruelty and the causes behind it. It is hoped that the reader will recognize a parallel between the treatment of the Indian Nations and the racially prejudiced treatment of minority groups today, and through this recognizance know that unless a more active effort is made to destroy these causes, cruelty and violence are almost sure to follow now, as they did then.
The Publishers
CHAPTER 1
The forest birds had been startled by his presence and for brief seconds the silence was broken by the rustling of their wings as they scattered. Then, once again, the forest was quiet except for the gurgling of the stream that flowed into the sunlit pool, and the soft laughter of the two nude girls swimming there.
Intermittently, flashes of sunlight would glisten against a man's dark coppery skin as he edged closer through the heavy underbrush and waited silently where the water lapped against the soles of his leather moccasins. For several minutes he didn't move, and the birds began to return, their soft songs once again fining the air. The birds either didn't notice, or had lost their fear of, the Indian who was watching the two girls so carefully.
And Black Elk, chief of the Mescelero Apaches, no longer paid any attention to the birds because his eyes were clouded with other thoughts. Not with any thought of the two naked white girls in front of him, but with the memory of another girl and another time.. .
* * *
"Quietly, Soft Rain," he had whispered, "we don't want that bull over there to see us." They approached downwind from the buffalo herd so that their scent wouldn't be carried to the old bull who stood at the edge of the huge herd. Massive and nervously pawing the ground, the scarred old bull moved uneasily at the fringe of the more than two hundred buffalo he guarded. With him as their sentinel the rest of the herd docilely grazed on the tall prairie grass and appeared to be totally unaware of Black Elk's presence. But their leader had sensed danger and was restlessly sniffing at the gentle prairie wind trying to catch their scent in the air.
"That one," he pointed, "that calf over there. He should be perfect for the feast."
Soft Rain followed his glance, and saw the young buffalo calf that had strayed several yards from the feeding cow.
"Wait here, I have to get closer," he whispered and almost imperceptibly started to crawl forward. She watched the rippling muscles across his back and saw him witlidraw his knife. Black Elk, she thought, and tonight I'll marry him. She felt her face flush with pride. She knew that he planned to crawl right up to huge buffalo herd and kill a calf with only a knife, to prove that he was worthy to be the son of a chief, and to offer it as a gift to her father that night.
Soft Bain trembled slightly as she realized the danger in what he was doing. If anything, anything at all, should spook the old bull or the rest of the herd ... and they stampeded. Two hundred buffalo, some of them weighing close to four thousand pounds, would trample Black Elk and grind him into the dirt until it would be as if he'd never existed.
But mixed with her fear was the fierce feminine pride she felt, knowing that he would risk his life for her, and that at only fifteen years of age he was already more of a man than any other in the tribe.
Suddenly, she heard the loud gruffling snorts of the old bull, saw him angrily pawing the ground, and saw the rest of the herd lift their heads quizzically. It would be only seconds, she knew, before the nervous buffalo stampeded-and she wanted to shout to Black Elk.
Then she saw him jump up and run towards her. The herd broke. And there didn't seem to be any way that he would be able to outrun them. For seconds, for an eternity, he was hidden by the swirling clouds of dust-and then he jumped into the shallow depression where she waited.
"Down!" he shouted. "Get down!" and he threw his body over hers.
They lay in a shallow furrow cut into the earth by a summer flash flood, less than two feet deep and only slightly wider. She felt the ground trembling as the herd thundered toward them, and choked in the heavy yellow dust that stung her eyes and paralyzed her heaving lungs. There's no way! No way, she thought, that they can miss us! And then the herd was on them ... like the roar of a thousand thunderstorms. Again and again, for what seemed to be hours, the buffalo clumsily leaped across their meager hiding place. She buried her face against the heat of his chest, felt the wetness of her tears against his skin, and cried out angrily that this was wrong. So terribly wrong! They couldn't die like this! Not with so much happiness ahead of them!
And then it was over. Just the diminishing thunder of hooves and the settling clouds of dust.
She reached unbelievingly for Black Elk, but he had jumped angrily to his feet.
"They did it!" he shouted. "Those filthy white scavengers!"
She followed his hand, and saw the group of white men riding toward them. She reached for Black Elk, trying to calm him down. She knew of his hatred for the buffalo skinners, the men who didn't kill the buffalo for his life-giving flesh, but only for his hide. Many times she had heard the men in the tribe furiously talk of the white skinners who were depriving the Apaches of their buffalo, The Buffalo, the staff of life for the Apache. The buffalo that provided them with meat to feed their children, hide for clothing and shelter, bones with which to make their powerful buffalo hunting bows, bones for needles and intestine for thread. The entire Apache tribes can live on the buffalo alone, and the white man kills him solely for his hide and leaves the carcass to rot in the sun.
Soft Bain knew that the peace that had existed between the whites and the Apaches was seriously threatened by these buffalo skinners, and if it hadn't been for Black Elk's father, Chief War Eagle, the Apaches would once again be on the warpath. But, so far, War Eagle and the other older men of the tribe, even her father-Eagle Man, the shaman and witch doctor, had been able to restrain the young braves. But, Soft Bain knew that the peace would not last, not with young men in the tribe like Black Elk. And, soon, he would be Chief.
She watched fearfully as he shook his fist at the approaching hunters and saw the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped his knife.
"Please, Black Elk, my love. Please don't start any trouble." She pleaded and grabbed his arms that trembled with rage. "Please ... my father ... your father, the Chief.. . . "
But he shook her away and stood motionless, angry and proud, and waited for the men who rode toward them.
A huge white man with a heavy untrimmed black beard reached them first, and he turned to motion to the others. He waited, with his back to them, until a mule-drawn wagon appeared on the crest of a hill.
"Lou, tell those chinks to get that wagon down here in a hurry. We gotta catch those buffler that this Injun brat spooked." His voice was deep and whiskey-throated, and tinged with scorn when he mentioned Black Elk.
Soft Rain moved behind Black Elk, as if for protection, but he remained motionless except for the quivering rage she could feel in his shoulders. Then he spoke.
"White man!" and he spit on the ground at the feet of the bearded man's horse. "You frightened the buffalo," and then Black Elk's voice rose in anger. "And you almost killed the daughter of our medicine man!"
"Well, listen to the little red bastard, will ya," the hunter turned and chuckled to his men. "talk-in' just like a mighty warrior, and he ain't nothin' but a kid."
The other men, about six of them, laughed and rode up until they circle Black Elk and Soft Bain.
"Why don't you go home to your squaw mammy, kid, and leave a man's business to us?" The big, bearded man leaned forward in his saddle and his yellowed, tabacco-stained teeth flashed in a mocking grin.
"A man!" Black Elk snorted. "You are not a man, White Eye, you are a woman! A cowardly woman with a big gun, who stands on a hill far away and shoots at the buffalo herd and hopes she'll hit something!" Black Elk stood stiff and proud as he insulted the hide-skinner, seemingly oblivious to the way the man's great size dwarfed him.
Without warning, the man prodded his horse forward and in a powerful arc swung his heavy buffalo gun at the young Indian. The barrel caught Black Elk on the temple and he slumped to his knees.
"Tie him up, Pete," he shouted to a man behind him. "I'm gonna teach that Injun whelp a little respect!"
One of the men jumped from his horse and ran toward Black Elk with a rawhide rope. He knocked Soft Bain to the side as she tried to help Black Elk to his feet. The Indian had been so stunned by the rifle blow that he was unable to resist. The hunter easily overcame his feeble efforts and in minutes had him hog-tied and helpless at Soft Rain's feet.
Josh Barker, the man with the beard, slowly dismounted and moved toward Black Elk. Perhaps it was her sudden scream, or her quick movement for the knife" in her belt, that caught Barker's attention. He spun around and seemed to see Soft Rain for the first time.
"Well, look at this little she-devil, willya," he chuckled as he lunged for her and caught her wrist. Helpless in his powerful grip, she cried out and struggled with tiny, pounding fists. Then, he let out a loud roar of laughter and flung her from him. She felt awkwardly to the ground by Black Elk, her soft doe-skin dress riding high on her thighs.
Barker looked down at the flashing copper of her legs, and a strange glint of light flickered across his eyes. He ran his finger tentatively across the razored edge of the knife he'd taken from her, and then he reached down and yanked her to her feet.
"Pretty little bitch, ain't she?" He said, as if talking to himself. And then he grabbed the neckline of her soft leather dress and, in one sudden movement, slit it all the way down the front.
There was a muffled gasp in his throat, and then unbroken silence until she screamed.
The white doeskin dress fell away from her shoulders, divided by the knife all the way down her heaving torso, split by the blade past the quivering swell of her belly and down to the beginning of the soft, silken triangle of ebony pubic hair. She stood motionless, paralyzed with fright, and tiny droplets of blood oozed from a nick near her navel where the knife had touched her skin.
"My gawd! Look at that," Barker muttered as the dress gave away and exposed one trembling, rose-tipped breast.
"Christ," he said. "Christ!" and his eyes gleamed crazily.
The other men leaned forward in their saddles and their eyes, too, were vicious with sudden desire. They moved forward as Josh Barker reached for the terrified Indian girl.
"No ... Noooooo!" she screamed, and tried to back away from him. But, he was like a wild beast as he grabbed her and bit into the yielding, exposed flesh of her breast. She jerked and shrieked, and Josh felt the salty, warm taste of her skin against his lips.
"Goddamn, she tastes good!" he laughed. "I ain't touched a woman, even an Injun squaw in almost a year. An' boys, this here's a woman," he turned to the leering men around him, "Look at that! That ain't no kid."
He yanked the dress to her hips and spun her around for the men to see her high, thrusting breasts. She screamed and fought against him, trying anything to get away from him. He laughed as she tried feebly to knee him in the groin, and then let out a howl when she bit him on the wrist. He looked incredulously at the bloody teeth-marks on his arm, and then backhanded her brutally across the face.
"Pete, stuff something in this little wildcat's mouth so she don't eat me alive!"
The other man ran forward.
"Hey, not that," Barker laughed, as he saw the man fumbling with his trousers. "Man, she'd bite it right off ... hell, we got plenty time for that later."
He held Soft Rain still while Pete shoved a neckerchief from his saddlebag into her mouth, and then tied it tightly with another from his neck.
"There, that oughta do it," he chuckled, laughing at her muffled screams. And then he turned and pointed to Black Elk who was shouting at them and struggling to his feet-but each time he tried to get up, the rawhide cords that bound his wrists to his ankles made him lose his balance and he fell again.
"An' gag that goddamn Injun brat! I don't mind him watching, but I'm tired of hearing him shout about it."
"You cowards!, " Black Elk shouted. "You filthy cowards ... Soft Bain ... I'll ... I'm War Eagle's son!" he screamed. "I'll kill you ... I'LL KILL YOU!. . . " But his enraged words were drowned as the man, Pete, gagged him until only muffled sounds escaped from his struggling body.
Josh's body was in torment. A wet patch of seminal fluid had soaked right through his thick trousers where his penis pressed against them. He could feel the contour of her body as he turned her around and her buttocks ground against the knob of his penis through the tight-clinging wetness. An ooze of blood welled from the little gash in her breast that his teeth had made.
His hands groped for the front of her body, feeling the growing volume of the warm flesh of her full breasts until he cupped them in his hands with the small, sharp nipples pressing against his palms. He squeezed them and dug his nails into them ecstatically.
"Hold her tight," he ordered. Pete and another man rushed forward to pin the Indian girl's struggling arms.
Barker moved his trembling hands down the front of her body over the tight flesh of her ribs, and the firm but softer flesh around her navel. He yanked at the ripped dress and it slithered away and down over her quivering buttocks, which bloomed darkly out inch by inch in a smooth gleaming cleft of pear-shaped flesh. Her body glistened, totally naked, vulnerable. Josh coughed throatily as he peeled the dress down her thighs and tore it from her moccasined feet.
"Look at this!" Josh gasped. He began to squirm feverishly out of his trousers, and his penis shot out from the confining garment and cleaved the air like a swaying gun barrel. "Squaw Ass!" he cried, "an' the prettiest I ever seed ... man, that's beautiful! Gawd! this is worth a million burner hides!"
The coarse black hair that covered his abdomen and made a tangle around the base of his prick gave a rough look of strength to his genitals. His foreskin was pulled back and the glans was almost purple with the weight of blood and desire it carried. Its sticky fluid swung down like a cobweb across the backs of the girl's thighs.
As he struggled with his clothes, Josh's fingers explored the girl's body, crushing her buttocks, gathering the flesh in handfuls, while Pete stood as if in a trance with his eyes fixed on the back of her crotch.
"Yeah, hold her tight ... that's good." Josh gasped.
Pete held the girl's shoulders and pushed her to her knees, and Josh moaned softly as he lowered himself with her. He moved around until he faced her as she knelt helplessly before him, and then he thrust his index and second fingers between thighs and into the slim folds of young flesh that enfolded her vagina. He probed and searched for a moment and found the lightly lubricated lips of her trembling orifice. She jerked away from him and fell sideways, with Pete still clinging to her shoulders. Josh hauled her back, splaying out her thighs and half standing, half kneeling between them. He dug his fingers again into the warmth and wetness between her legs and this time one of them drove straight up, breaking through the tight ring of flesh and surging into the soft cavern beyond.
"Hey! She's pretty tight," he gasped. "Maybe she ain't never been fucked before after all."
"I don't see you got no claim to go first," Pete snapped as he hung onto her struggling arms.
"I ain't got no claim," Josh laughed deliriously. "I just got my prick out first ... and got her cunt open!" Then he added: "besides, there ain't nobody here big enough to stretch her the way I can."
He wormed his second finger past the tight little band of flesh deep into her vagina, feeling the shudder run through her whole body and hearing her muffled moans. He moved his fingers around inside against the jelly-like surface of her vagina, reaching right up to the high arch where it ran into her cervix.
The girl squirmed and writhed with desperate energy, but Pete held her fast and, at one furious point, Josh steadied her by clutching his hands around her bare waist, feeling how he could squeeze and crush her, feeling the tremendous power of his hands.
"Turn her around!" he shouted. "Turn her around, so's her back's to me."
They turned and raised her until she was on her knees, and Josh, sweating with tension, raised her hips up and knelt behind her and between her open thighs. He searched with his fingers for the opening and separated the flanges of flesh so that he could see where to thrust his penis.
"I knew she'd have a juicy, pink cunt," he burst out, as he aimed his throbbing organ. "Pink and nice, just like a white woman's!"
He moved his prick up to the hot, moist opening-probing with it, slipping it at her between his guiding fingers, and then he thrust it slowly, agonizingly slowly into her, sensing her body screaming in every pore as he entered. A warm relief spread over his penis and throughout his loins, bringing with it a moaning pleasure of delight. His prick felt as if it were a raw wound, a raw and sensitive wound being both soothed and stimulated by the alien pressure that was as much an attack as a caress.
A long groan spiraled out from the very depths of his chest, exploding from his mouth and resounding in his ears.
"Gawd!" Pete complained. And the other men watched the two bodies blending into one with open mouths and near-glazed eyes.
Josh threw back his head and let his loins carry themselves at the helpless girl. His penis flooded into her like a great tide, bursting and smashing all before it, deeper and deeper until his abdomen crushed against the apex of the angle of her buttocks and he felt the hot, firm flesh burning against his sturdy, battering body. His head flopped forward and he placed his hands convulsively on the whimpering girl's shoulders, drawing her back as he thrust again and again into her open, defenseless cunt. He drew his hands with savoring deliberation down her back and held her waist for a second, and then clasped her hips so that his fingers fitted into the crease of her thighs and loins and his thumbs reached for each other across her buttocks. He pulled her back against his onrushing hips and held his prick inside her to its fullest extent while he revolved his body around behind her in short grinding circles.
He lowered his eyes and watched his moist prick-moist along its whole length from the Indian girl's secretions-ramming into her. He saw the ragged pink edges of her flesh drawing back with it and swallowing it in again. He began to establish a powerful rhythm of thrust and witlidrawal, bruising her buttocks with his loins at every in-thrust, clasping her thighs with crushing force at every witlidrawal.
The breath began to wheeze in his throat and he spread her thighs farther apart, flattening her body against his with the strength of his arms and shoulders. His head tingled, and his penis throbbed and enlarged ... and he felt a great exhilarating sense of power and sadism. He lunged at her body with all the strength of his loins and all the muscular reflex of his thighs. He wanted to split her right up to her navel, to force from her screams of anguish and pleasure, to lose the whole of his senses in her belly.
"Take that gag off her," he shouted to Pete. And Pete obeyed instantly, fingering the wet patch that had appeared on his own trousers.
Now, Josh could hear her whimpers and her strangled groans, each one cut short by the stabbing overlap of another, with each pile-driving entry he made into the widely stretched tunnel of her vagina.
Barker felt the softness of her cervix with the tip of his penis as he screwed his hips against her and he felt the solid, damned-up weight of the flood-tide in his loins.
He began to pant harder and harder, and his head rolled with the sweat running down into his-eyes. He thrust harder and harder at her until her helpless torso was buffeted forward and backward with his movements, and her agonized moans 'echoed in rhythm with his driving hips.. . .
He felt his penis grow thick and thicker to the point of bursting and the great flood trembled and threatened against the dam deep inside him. He tensed his buttocks hard at every forward surge, quivering from his heels to his swaying testicles. He crushed her dark buttocks, scratching their satiny copper skin with his nails, clawing at her flesh brutally and blindly.
The girl knelt before him, moaning in helpless immobility, and he felt that his prick must be soaring up inside her into the deepest, softest, warmest secret part of her belly. He groaned in painful ecstasy. He shuddered and tensed his whole body in a long taut curve at hers as the flood of semen broke loose and rushed in a boiling profusion along the thick rube of his prick, to shatter out into the battered, boiling heat of her body.. . .
* * *
The other men gloated over the girl's tortured form. Too lost and hurt to even put her legs together in modesty, she lay moaning softly in the yellow, choking dust.
Josh lay some distance off gazing up at the sky, flat on his back with all his clothes off, sleepily taking in the sun.
"Who's next, then?" Pete asked anxiously.
He asked out of respect for Lou, who was always the acknowledged leader-except that this time Josh had jumped the gun.
"I am," Lou said. "But I'm not putting my prick where his has just been. I wouldn't trust him not to be contaminated, for one thing."
They all looked down at Soft Rain's body. She lay on her back as if dazed, with her legs drawn up and slightly apart so that they could see the soft pink edges of her ravished vagina. The dark triangle of silken pubic hair between her open legs glistened with moistness in the sun, and traces of wet stains still reflected glossily on her thighs. Her breasts were just heavy enough to sway outwards but not heavy enough to sag, and the small nipples with their rosy aureoles against her flashing copper skin seemed to beckon to them.
"So, whatya gonna do, Lou?" Pete asked.
"Turn her over and go up the other hole," the man answered with a leering smirk on his face.
Lou unbuttoned his trousers and took out his hot, rigid, penis and fondled it gently, looking down at the girl. Then he unfastened his trousers at the waist and slithered them down over his muscular thighs and kicked them off. He removed his shirt and walked over to the prone body, still playing with his huge, swollen, penis that stretched out-white and hard, and enlarged with a network of long, throbbing veins. He was sweating profusely between his thighs and under his armpits, and his pale, heavily-muscled body shone in the sun.
"Turn her over," he told Pete and one of the other men.
They obediently moved up and, catching the girl by the shoulders, swung her over onto her belly. She lay without struggling, her shoulders quivering slightly with the effort of her breathing.
Her brown shoulders were broader than her waist but narrower than her hips, and her trembling, creviced buttocks looked made for the act of sex. The two oval shapes of her buttocks were hollowed slightly at the sides with almost imperceptible dimples, and then rounded out to an overlap of fullness where they joined her warm, velvet thighs. The cleft between them was deep and inviting and darkened in shadow as it merged into the spread of her legs.
Lou pulled her limbs apart, running his hands over the long, firm muscles of her calves and up the inside of her thighs-and then he knelt between her wide-spread legs. The prairie grass was rough under his knees and he could feel the hard earth through it, but that hard rougliness was obliterated by the warm, softness of the girl's bronzed skin against his legs.
He caressed her buttocks with his hands, kneading her back and the slim waist, and her bottom, like so much dough ... working himself into a fevered pitch of desire. The girl shuddered, but made no other movement, as if she realized the futility of resisting.
Lou ran the edge of his right hand down the crease of her buttocks. It was hot between them and the flesh was a little wet and clinging. He turned his hand over, palm upward, and explored with the ends of his fingers ... delicately titillating the soft, puckered skin around her anus. He wanted to see it, suddenly, to see if it, too, was pink like a white girl's. Although he'd never sodomized a white girl, he reckoned their ass-holes would be pink.
He drew aside the buttocks like two halves of a soft grapefruit. Soft Rain tensed them together again, but when he tore at them with brutal determination, she relaxed them helplessly and let him spread them apart as he wished.
Now he could see the crinkled ring of tender flesh around the tiny, smooth lips of her anus, deep pink and fiery looking. He sucked in his breath and dug at it with his middle finger. She cried out as he scratched the rubbery opening with his nail and then pressed her mouth to the ground, tensing her behind again as he worked the tip of his finger into her tightly resisting rectum. He felt the hot little nip of her muscles as the hole enclosed his finger up to the first knuckle joint and then his whole hand was squeezed in the vise-like pressure of her closed buttocks. He slapped the orbs of flesh furiously with his free hand, and she cried out in pain as dark flushes of angry color shadowed her bottom. He caught her by the nape of her neck and squeezed savagely with his thumb and forefinger.
"Relax," he rasped. "Open yer ass, or I'll break your fuckin' neck."
She gasped and pleaded with him in low exclamations of pain and then he felt her buttocks relax again and her body go limp to be used as he desired.
He moved his finger around in the tight little hole. It had a dry texture at its surface opening, but inside it was smoother and almost felt as if it had been oiled. He dug his finger deeper and she cried out again, but checked her tension midway when she felt the grasp of his fingers on her neck.
Lou's finger had entered up to the second joint and he began to scour her rectum with greater force and rougliness. Her behind began to move like a living thing, like some little frightened animal trying to escape but getting pinioned more and more by the desperate exertion of its own struggle.
Lou tried to insert another finger, and after a few moments, its tip slipped in against the opposing pressure of her nether ring. Pete and the other man, Jesse, still knelt at either side of the girl and held her.
Lou's penis was hot and swollen, and had begun to ache. The throbbing increased with every moment that he waited, and he felt that each second's delay in shoving it into the girl was a delicious form of self-torture.
He removed his fingers from her behind and held his penis in his hand. It had never felt so hot. He stroked it gently, feeling that he could cum at any minute. He pulled the foreskin back, and the glan was bright and shining like the crown of a great polished monarchal staff.
He lowered himself onto her back so that her flesh burned and tingled against his skin and he could feel the scorching heat of the sun on his back as he pushed his hands in under his loins and pulled her buttocks apart. His prick rode starkly between them and he ground against her for several seconds, and then raised his hips slightly and directed his lust-swollen penis at the small round target that he'd already stretched experimentally. His pulsating cock prodded it without any distinct feeling for a few seconds. Then there was just the fiery sharpness in himself and a general, vague sort of resistant pressure where his penis probed the undulations of her flesh. Then he felt her stiffen.
"Hold her!" he gasped. "It's going in!"
He could feel her anus clasping the tip of his prick, enfolding it in heated stricture. He thrust wickedly in with a quick hip-locking stab, and she cried out-gnashing her teeth with sudden pain-and he felt her legs flailing out on either side of him and bearing against him as she tried to escape. He kept pressing forward, unrelenting, and now he could feel the tight clasp of her back passage down half the length of his prick. A throaty groan of passion burst from his clenched lips.
Soft Rain bucked her bottom up at him, trying to throw him off, and as she moved at him he rammed into her and imbedded his organ to its full length into the smooth velvet cavern of her soft, yielding rectum.
"AAAAhhhhhgggghhh ... Uhhhhhhhh!" A long moan of pain came from her and she thresed her body wildly under his, but now she was totally impaled, and her struggle merely widened his entry.
Lou pulled her up onto her knees and bent her double. He gritted his teeth and fixed his gaze on her slim body, waving and swaying with pain beneath him. She was uttering a single low whine that went on and on, punctuated occasionally by a choking groan as he ground with extra force into her bottom.
At this point, Pete who had been getting hotter and hotter, slipped out of his trousers and wriggled under the helpless Indian girl so that her face was resting on his loins and his legs were splayed out at an angle to each side of her head. He pushed his penis against her reluctant lips, forcing them apart, and then her teeth apart, until the rigid flesh was swallowed by her mouth. And, then, holding her face in his hands, he began to saw into the moist cavity of her throat, strangling her cries-while, at the other end of her, Lou surged, in a strong and furious barrage, into the tight inflamed aperture back between her buttocks.. .
Wilder and wilder the two of them became, punishing the girl between them, buffeting her forward and backward in a joined rhythm. Their hoarse cries intermingled and the girl lolled, most unconscious, from one to the other, a receptacle of flesh for the outpouring of their passions.
"I'm cumming! I ... I'm Cuuummmmiinnnngg!" Lou screamed, imbedding his organ up to its broad hilt into the dark, clinging sheath that tugged and scraped at the very center of his genitals. He grabbed her buttocks in each hand, tearing them apart as if he could enter even farther into her. His penis was bursting as if a thousand fireworks were exploding inside it and with a huge, bone-shaking moan he ejaculated into her rectum with jet after jet of hot sperm that shot through her body like bursts of gun fire.
He collapsed over her quivering copper body and then rolled off her, completely and utterly exhausted. Through the daze of his satiation, he heard Pete crying out in great, choking moans, and knew that he, too, had emptied the last dregs of his lust into the soft, warm confines of the young Indian girl's mouth.. . .
* * *
There in the forest, concealed by the foliage and the soft songs of birds, Black Elk fought to stifle the agonized cry that rose in his throat . . .fought to erase the horrible memory of that day eight years ago. Sweat poised in heavy beads on his forehead and his knuckles shone whitely with the clenching and unclenching of his fists.
As he struggled against the mounting memory, his body shuddered and he put his hands to his head, trying to press away the throbbing pain. Finally, the pictures began to fade from his memory, losing their awful vividness, and now as he turned his tortured gaze back to the two white girls bathing before him, he thought of Soft Rain only in words and not in images.
The buffalo skinners had kept her there for eight hours, making him watch. They'd built a fire and in the flickering light he'd strained helplessly against his rawhide bonds, while they continued to rape and pervert her long after the sun had fallen behind the hills.
He'd listened to their laughter and their impassioned grunts for what had seemed to be an eternity, and then, at last, they had thrown her aside and had told each other defensively that it had been her fault for teasing them the way she had.
Black Elk had wished that day that they would kill him ... had wished that they would have killed Soft Rain, because her fate had ultimately been worse than death. But, the hunters had just left them there-and hours later when Black Elk had finally freed himself of his bonds, he'd carried the battered and sobbing form of Soft Rain back to their camp.
There had been no words spoken, nothing said, on that horrible journey back to the camp. Both of them had known the fate had awaited Soft Rain, and both had known that there were no words to change it.
Black Elk felt the boiling fires of rage constricting his chest as he remembered their return to the village. There had been no joyous celebration ... no wedding. There couldn't be. The son of the Chief could not marry a woman who had been defiled by white men, and a woman who had suffered the lust of a white man could not remain with the tribe.
He remembered the rocks that had been thrown, remembered even being forced by his father, War Eagle, to throw stones at Soft Rain's broken and crying figure as she was driven forever out of the Mescelero Apache encampment.
Black Elk never knew what had happened to her, though he'd heard once that she had given birth to a half-caste child ... and he'd never given up his search for the white skinners who'd found them that day. He'd been powerless for almost a year, and then his father had died and Black Elk became chief. He'd frightened the elders of the tribe with his thirst for vengeance, but the younger braves had readily joined him, and now the entire Southwestern Territories trembled at the mention of Black Elk's marauding band of Mesceleros. There had been hundreds of white women who's suffered as Soft Rain did ... but Black Elk felt he would never find peace until he once again faced Josh Barker, and the others . ...
* * *
The giggling laughter of the two white girls in front of him snapped his mind away from tortuous memories and into the present. He watched them splashing happily in the creek and felt no compassion, not even lust, for them. The two girls were to him no more than symbols of revenge, two more scores to be added to his long, futile trail of vengeance. He wondered if their ravisliment, perhaps their death, would clean away any of the dirtiness in his heart, if they'd ease the painful memory of Soft Rain. He doubted it.
Almost distractedly, he studied the two girls-watched their flashing wet nakedness. One was taller, and darker. Strikingly beautiful. And if her skin had had more of a coppery tinge, a color like his, she could easily have passed for an Apache. Her hair was glistening ebony and reached almost to her waist, and though her body was slim-her breasts and gently curved hips had the fullness of a grown woman's. She is very lovely, he thought to himself almost sadly. Much nicer than the other one. The other looks like a white man's dream ... pale and bland. Yes, it's true that her body is very full and ripe, her breasts large and firm, and the thick curl of golden blonde pubic hair is inviting to any man ... but, he thought quietly, she is not like the other one . ...
He was interrupted from his reverie by the shrill cry of an eagle, and he knew the piercing whistle came not from a soaring bird, but from the impatient lips of Stalking Bear who waited with the rest of his men higher up on the small rise of a hill.
Black Elk looked past the two girls, past the small creek to a cabin in a clearing. He watched the smoke curling lazily from its chimney, and then he turned and silently waved his men toward it.. . . .
CHAPTER 2
Victoria Stratton, the tall dark-haired girl, paused momentarily at the screeching call of the eagle. She had the grace and poise of a deer as she lifted her head and almost seemed to sniff the quiet forest air. That eagle hadn't sounded right to her and for a moment she thought she had seen a movement in the bushes at the rim of the gurgling pool.
She waited several seconds, ignoring her friend's quizzical glances, and then, satisfied that she had been mistaken, she turned back to rinse the harsh lye soap from her sun bronzed skin.
"Victoria, what's the matter? What were you looking at?" Amy Potter asked anxiously.
"It's nothing, Amy," she answered calmly. "I thought I heard something, but it was probably just a squirrel." She put her hand on the young blonde girl's shoulder. "Here, turn around, and let me rinse the soap off your back."
She had just leaned down to scoop up some water in her hands when she heard the sudden splash behind her ... and, at the same instant, felt the steel grip of an alien arm around her neck as Black Elk grabbed her from behind.
"Help! ... Help!" She dimly heard Amy scream. "It's an Indian. . . . " But Amy's terrified scream turned into a cry of pain as Black Elk reached across Victoria's shoulder and grabbed her by the hair, twisting it brutally until the blonde girl fell to her knees in the swirling water.
The powerful Indian switched his grip from her neck to her hair also and yanked her head lower until he held both screaming girls by their hair. Then, he dragged them both to the water's edge and threw them roughly to the muddy ground, drawing his knife as he released them.
"You must not make a sound, or I will kill you," he said with a total lack of emotion in his deep voice.
Victoria was silent, but Amy kept whimpering pitifully until the huge Indian hit her brutally across her face.
"Now! You will be completely quiet! Is that understood?" He pulled the two of them off their knees and shoved them forward, motioning toward a path that led to the cabin in the clearing.
"Wh ... who are you?" Victoria finally asked. Strangely, perhaps because everything had happened so quickly, she didn't feel too frightened ... though she was still unable to keep the quaver out of her voice.
"I am Black Elk, Chief of the Mescelero Apache," he answered proudly, and with a twinge of sadistic delight with the sudden widening of her eyes at the mention of his fearsome name.
"I see you have heard my name before," he said mockingly. "All you whites run like frightened rabbits and the cowards that you are when Black Elk and the Apache challenge you!"
Stumbling and trying to keep from falling, the two girls were silent as the Indian pushed them toward the house in the clearing. Though neither had spoken, their thought was a common one. Both had heard of Black Eagle, and both knew of the fate of his captives. Since childhood their mothers had told them of women who'd been abducted and raped by Black Elk and his men, and over and over again this terrifying thought tumbled and twisted in their minds as the Indian drove them toward the cabin.
In fact, Victoria thought bitterly, we never would have gone to the stream to swim if that stupid stepfather of mine hadn't told me that Black Elk and his men were reported to be further north, up in the Cimarron Territory.
Suddenly, she was snapped out of her semi-conscious reverie by the shouts and screams at the Potter cabin. She looked up through her tear-filled eyes and saw her stepfather, Ebediah Potter, struggling helplessly in the arms of two Indians while two others dragged his wife roughly from the house.
"Father! ... Mother!" Amy screamed. She tried to run toward them but Black Elk again grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backward. Again and again, the young girl screamed, until she was silenced by another blow from their Indian captor.
As they approached the cabin, Victoria saw more than twenty Apaches, some setting fire to the small barn, and the other rounding up the Potter livestock. Ebediah Potter had been tied to a hitching rail in front of the cabin and could only struggle feebly. He was close to seventy and his strength was negligible compared to that of the young Indian warriors. But his wife, actually his second wife, was no more than thirty-five and she struggled furiously against the pinioning grip of the two laughing Apaches who were pulling her back toward the door of the cabin.
"Victoria ... Oh my God! AMY! ... what have they done to you!" the old man weakly cried out to them as Black Elk led them up to the rail by the cabin.
She wanted to shout out, Nothing, but then she followed the old man's eyes and realized almost for the first time that she and Amy were both completely nude. The mud from their struggle at the creek had dried until it looked like stains of blood across their heaving breasts, and she tried to wipe it away ... and then suddenly, as if her mind had thrown open a floodgate to allow the horrifying rush of actuality into her brain, she realized everything that had happened ... felt the shame and degradation of standing there naked before a group of heathen savages ... her body, that no man had ever seen before, stripped and exposed to these horrible men ... and the realization that these men wanted only one thing from her! That they wanted her body to satisfy their terrible lust, to rape and ravage her before they finally killed her.
The strain was too much, and she suddenly fainted. Completely limp, she fell to the ground in a helpless heap at Black Elk's feet.
* * *
She heard the sounds from the center of the room, and tried to focus her eyes in that direction but for several seconds everything was too hazy for her to distinguish more than just shadows. She struggled to get up, felt the pain in her wrists and ankles, and suddenly realized that the pain came from the ropes that bound her so tightly. She screamed, but the sound died in her throat, blocked by the gag in her mouth ... she didn't understand ... a prisoner? ... why? And then she remembered! Black Elk! Over and over she strained at the binding ropes, only to feel them cut deeper into her flesh. She tried to get up and fell back against something. It moved. Terrified, she spun her head and looked directly into Amy's horror-stricken eyes. Amy lay bound and gagged just as she was, and only soft mewling sounds-sounds like an injured animal-came from her throat.
"Hey! The other one is awake." She heard someone say. "We take her now, uh?"
"No, this one is enough for you now, Stalking Bear," said a voice she recognized as Black Elks's.
Victoria could hear their voices, it sounded like several men, but she couldn't see them because of an overturned table. She thought she heard another sound, too. Someone else's muffled pleading. She slid sideways, slowly and awkwardly, on her shoulder until she was able to peer around the fallen table.
She was horrified by what she saw!
Lydia Potter, her stepmother, lay spread-eagled and tied to a mattress that had been moved into the cabin's main room only a few feet away from Victoria. She was completely nude, and her heavy breasts rose and fell rapidly with each frantic breath.
The woman was surrounded by Apaches and Victoria could see Black Elk standing off to one side-but the man who most held her attention was the one whom Black Elk once again addressed as Stalking Bear. Victoria shivered in horror and revulsion, unable to keep from staring at the huge Apache. He was the most hideous man she had ever seen. There was a large ridge of bone across his brow, like the skull of a Neanderthal man, and his small close-set eyes were almost completely hidden by thick, heavy eyebrows. The rest of his face, his broad, flat nose and thick lips, looked as if it had purposely been mashed or flattened at birth. But, even more astonishing was his size and the way he was built. Lying on her side as she was, he appeared to be a giant-but Victoria estimated him to actually be close to seven feet tall. His head seemed to be set onto his shoulders without the benefit of a neck, and his shoulders and chest were immense, so out of place with his thin, spindly bowed legs.
Victoria looked around the room at the other Apaches, and all of them looked horrible, though not as bad as Stalking Bear. Then she looked back at Black Elk and thought that it was perhaps the chieftain that made his men look so grotesque.
He looked like a great, copper-colored god.
Though not quite as big as Stalking Bear, he appeared almost as powerful, with huge muscled arms and shoulders, a broad chest that showed wide, flat planes of muscle as it tapered to his small waist, and strong sinewy legs.
The Indians seemed to have forgotten that she and Amy lay bound in the corner and, almost completely hidden by the overturned table, Victoria watched and listened as they appeared to go through some sort of gambling ritual. Then, she saw Stalking Bear lift his arm triumphantly.
"I have won!" he shouted. "Black Elk, the white woman is mine first!"
Victoria felt shivers of fear and strange anticipation race down her back. Guiltily, she turned her head and looked again at her step-mother. The woman's eyes were wide with fear and she struggled to scream behind the cloth that gagged her. The mattress was only about four feet from Victoria and Lydia Potter lay bound with the soles of her feet facing the young girl. Victoria looked, almost with detachment, at the woman's trembling legs, at the spread, pink lips of her vagina. She could see the slight film of moistness there and wondered what had caused it.
From what I've heard of you, Lydia Potter, you shouldn't be struggling, Victoria thought coldly. I've heard the stories about the men you've made love to in the forest, I've seen the pain on Mr. Potter's face when you've come home with your hair disheveled and your face flushed with exertion.
Victoria Stratton had been adopted by Ebediah Porter and his first wife, Celia, when she was only nine years old. Her father and mother had died from cholera and she'd been with Mr. Potter for a little over ten years now. Then, four years ago, Celia Potter had died and Ebediah had astonished Amy and Victoria by marrying a woman almost thirty-five years younger than he was, Lydia. Neither Victoria or Amy liked Lydia, and often Victoria felt her dis-like was even more intense than Amy's. Amy didn't seem to have the capability to think or feel very deeply about anything, and Victoria knew this wasn't true of her.
"Alright, Stalking Bear. Fuck her!" She heard Black Elk say to the huge, ugly Apache. She could sense the disgust and animosity in the Chiefs voice whenever he spoke to Stalking Bear and was wondering about it when she was suddenly aware that the Apache was removing his clothes.
Hating herself for her curiosity, she leaned forward and watched intently. Victoria was still a virgin, except for the secretive penetration of her fingers late at night when the young desires of her body had been too much for her to stand, and she had never seen a naked man. She only knew what she had been told by Amy. Amy, she knew, was no longer a virgin, and often she had been tempted to go along with Amy when the blonde girl went to meet one of the boys from town in the forest. But, she never had.
She watched Stalking Bear as he quickly removed his leather beaded vest and knee-high moccasins and kicked them into the corner. She could see the faint shine of perspiration on his face and chest, the anxiety and urgency in his movements.
Then her eyes widened as she saw him untie the leather thong that held his breechclout, saw it drop to the floor, and watched as he began to loosen his leather trousers.
She held her breath, than it expelled from her mouth in a sudden gasp as he removed his last garment.
It was so big! My God, she thought, no woman could take anything as large as that! She stared in fascination at the Apache's huge penis, at the thick throbbing veins and the hard, swollen head. She turned to look again at the struggling woman on the mattress, stared at the woman's vagina hidden in its mysterious nest of soft, black pubic hair. How could it fit, she thought? And, she knew that Lydia's vagina must be larger than hers ... suppose Stalking Bear had been coming for her instead!. . . . .
Lydia Potter watched in horror as Stalking Bear moved toward her. He crossed the room, posing in front of her like a stud horse, proud of his maleness. His long, thick penis bobbed up against his belly like a snake poised to strike and she cringed, not wanting to look at him but fascinated at the same time by his crude, masculine arrogance.
He reached out and pinched the full, pink nipple of one breast, savoring every inch of what he found so helplessly exposed to his sexual whims. She struggled against his hateful caress, but the ropes held her fast and she was completely at his mercy.
The huge Indian laughed, his eyes clouded with passion and sensual greed as he stared hungrily at every curve and inch of the exposed flesh that lay before him.
"Go ahead and fight, white bitch ... it's not going to do you any good, you know that," he said wickedly.
She lay still, afraid to speak, to think.
"I going to fuck you, White Woman, until you beg for death!" Stalking Bear shouted at her.
She didn't know what to think, what to do. She couldn't struggle without the ropes biting into her wrists and ankles, but she couldn't just fie there and let this horrible man use her helpless body as he wished.
His eyes were beginning to harden, glared with excitement and anticipation as he closed his mouth wetly over her breast and sucked and bit painfully at the tender, pink bud of her nipple.
His tongue flicked over the nipple as if defying it not to stiffen under his lustful, degrading touch. He continued until both of her breasts were teased into involuntary, prickling hardness, the nipples stiff and terribly sensitive. She could feel a chill run through her body as she fought to control her reactions but it was no use.
She closed her eyes again, trying to fight off the hatred of what he was doing, the humiliation and indignities he was forcing upon her tightly bound body . . .
Victoria watched, guiltily trying to fight her fascination, as Stalking Bear stroked and caressed Lydia Potter. She stared intently as his hands kneaded and massaged the woman's breasts until her body was driven almost crazy by the animal force deep within her ... and as Victoria watched Lydia's tormentor, she could feel a sudden heated tightening down between her own thighs.. . . .
Stalking Bear sucked greedily at the soft swells, engulfing all he could hold in his mouth, straining the hardened nipples, and pulling at the awakened flesh until the white woman in spite of her fear and hatred, began to squirm sensuously under his touch.
His hands roamed over the smooth, naked curves of her hips while he continued his sensual mouthing of her breasts, running down over the narrowness of her waist and gripping the rounded bulge of her buttocks, kneading and massaging cruelly, sending tremors of desire through her writhing body. He knew every vital spot, a deliberate fondling that drove his victim into a wanton frenzy. She bucked against the ropes that held her, but she couldn't tear herself loose.. .
"Ohhhhhhhh," Lydia moaned as his fingers began to massage the soft flesh of her inner thigh and slowly, painstakingly work their way up to the soft curl of pubic hair between her legs and search for the tiny, sensitive bud of her clitoris. His finger triggered another involuntary lustful response from her as he probed and prodded, playing teasingly with the soft lips of her vagina. She rolled back and forth on the mattress, no longer trying to fight the flood of desire that was tearing through her body and making her belly ache with desire.
My GodI She--likes it, Victoria thought. Even with that horrible, ugly Indian, she--likes it! How can she stand to have that man touch her that way! But, even as Victoria told herself over and over how horrible it would be for a man to do that to her, she began to feel the flush of heat and strange desire deep in her own body as she watched Stalking Bear's index finger begin to probe through the thin hair-lined fold of flesh that guarded Lydia's vagina and rubbed slowly, tantalizingly against the moist, heated walls of the soft, smooth channel.
She watched Lydia's face and it was obvious that it no longer mattered to the woman that the man who was sending the waves of lustful desire racing through her body was an Apache ... a hideous savage who would probably kill her after he and the other Indians had filled her helpless body with the last of their lewd sperm.
The only thing that mattered to Lydia Potter now was that he was making smoldering fires burn deep within her, making her feel like a complete and total woman, generating pleasure and painful lust that needed to be satisfied.
She could feel his iron hard prick jerk against her thighs and she wanted him inside her ... wanted to feel the whole of his hot, swollen penis deep into the innermost caverns of her body.
"You want it, don't you, White Woman?" the Apache taunted. "Beg me for it!", he rasped, hardly able to talk through his own passion. Stalking Bear rocked back on his knees so that she could see his giant manhood throbbing over her and she wanted to scream, to tell him to cut the ropes so that she could take it in her hands, in her mouth! He wanted to rape her, but she wanted him so desperately, that it was no longer rape ... she wanted him!
His eyes scoured every inch of her body as it twisted back and forth on the mattress, wanting to be free, free to grasp him to her, take him inside her ... but there was no way for her to move against the ropes that bound her so tightly. He was so aroused by his own passion that he didn't notice the look of desire and lust in her eyes as they beseeched him to cut her free, yet she couldn't bring herself to plead with him. His body fell on top of hers and she shuddered with anticipation, hungering for him, and she arched her hips so that he could more easily take her.
Victoria watched the man aim his huge, thick rod at the tiny slit of Lydia's vagina, prodding her slowly at first and Victoria could see that the woman was almost going out of her mind.
Give it all to her, her mind screamed silently. She was totally unconscious of what she was thinking as she watched the woman thrusting her hips higher and further toward the Indian, trying to force him completely inside her.
Put all of it in her! I want to see that huge prick of yours bury itself inside her body, Victoria's mind pleaded. Her pulse raced and her brain pounded as she watched the lewd and lust-inciting scene only feet away from her. She was only vaguely aware of the trembling behind her breasts, almost as if it had nothing to do with her directly and she sucked at the heat of her breath, trying to cool it. In her floating, spiraling mind it seemed that it was happening to her instead of Lydia Potter and the hot rush of desire between her loins made her eyes mist over and she felt faint.
But Stalking Bear soon sensed the white woman's desire and the sadism that was so much a part of his nature made him control himself, made him worm his hardened cock so very slowly into her desperately waiting cunt. She squirmed beneath him, waiting, moaning, wanting him-but he wasn't going to let her have all of it at once.
"Just a little bit, White Bitch ... do you want more?" he said teasingly.
The band of cloth that gagged her had come loose, and her voice was husky and breathless when she answered him.
"Yes ... for god's sake ... YES. Fuck me ... fuck me now ... I can't stand it anymore!" she groaned wild-eyed, arching and thrusting her hips at him like a madwoman.
Victoria listened, couldn't believe what she'd heard, words she'd never heard spoken aloud before. The erotic lewdness of Lydia's pleas, the sight of Stalking Bear's throbbing, swollen penis just barely inside her stepmother's vagina ... it was driving Victoria into a semi-conscious state of vicarious lust ... she could feel the dampness between her own thighs ... feel her own constricting vaginal muscles betraying the fear in her mind.
She'd forgotten everything that had happened.
Nothing else mattered ... only to watch the wild, lustful scene before her. She forgot that she was a captive, a prisoner of Black Elk, that soon the same thing would probably happen to her. There was no fear of the Apaches, no thought of death or rape, only the heated torment and desire in her mind as she watched Stalking Bear.
She saw him cup his hands under Lydia's soft, squirming buttocks and pull her hips up toward him, sliding imperceptibly farther into her cunt with his thick pulsating prick.
Then, suddenly with a firm thrust of his hips, the Apache surged into her. Victoria watched, her tongue licking at her dry lips, as the Indian's dark copper-red penis tore mercilessly into Lydia's open, wide-stretched cunt, disappearing, inch by inch, smoothly and quickly, from her view. His head was back as he thrust, a fixed smile of lust and desire painted on it, and Lydia's head ground into the mattress and her body arched up in shock as she softly screamed and moaned beneath the man who tormented her.
"Oh, oh, oh, you're hurting me!" Lydia screamed.
But her cries only seemed to drive the Apache into a wilder frenzy. After several slower strokes that brought his wet, glistening cock almost completely out and into Victoria's vision, he then plunged it right back again so that she could see where his black bush of hair smacked hard into the raw pink slit of her cunt-lips, and then, before the unbelieving eyes of Victoria, Lydia's cries of pain calmed and settled into groans that were a mixture of pleasure and ecstasy. Her face was screwed up with a torture that was exquisite, and they were making so much noise now that Victoria could no longer hear the furious pounding of her heart or the mocking laughter of the other Indians in the room.
Victoria watched, gluttonously, following every movement as the two twisting bodies became one and sank into a single rhythm, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, according to the lead given by Stalking Bear. The Apache who came over and cut the bonds away from Lydia's wrists and ankles was only a shadow to Victoria who could see nothing except the two figures on the bed. She watched the muscles on Lydia's thighs contract as she gripped him with her legs, saw her buttocks tense and relax, her breasts flattened slightly under his weight. Above all, she watched that source and center of joy, that strangely naked section where man and woman are built to fit so perfectly, where their hair mingled and moisture had begun to seep and slide around Lydia's tight, clasping cunt and over the Apache's prick as it withdrew. Victoria stared, fascinated, as the Indian's balls sung heavily against the churning whiteness of her writhing buttocks, pendulously with their movement.
The Indian was gasping for breath as he buried himself into the hot, soft suction of the white woman's cunt. Brutally, he pushed her thighs back towards her breasts, leaning up from her, pushing with his hips as he bent her backwards, almost in half. Lydia writhed slightly against his pressure, gasping, helpless in her passion, lost in herself, hardly aware that it was the savage Stalking Bear that was doing this to her, aware only that her body, that aching channel in her belly, was filled with a strange hot object that threatened to split it and rubbed it with an exciting, titillating rhythm that seemed to be growing to a white, hot heat in the wandering haze of her mind.
"Fuck me harder ... harder.. . " she muttered between tightly clenched teeth, wishing that she could force him into her even farther.
"I'm ready ... I'm cuuumming ... cumming ... aaaggglmhhhh," she moaned, tears of satisfaction running down her cheeks. "Oh yes ... like that ... I'm cumming!"
Dimly, through her lust-tortured mind, she could feel his soft, hair-covered testicles swaying hard and desperately against the inside of her flexing thighs and she could sense that he was about to join her in her frenzied climax.
"UHhhhhhh! ... here it is, you White Bitch!" he choked.
The rubber walls of her vagina closed around the thickness of his prick sucking at it desperately as he jerked out his final burning flood, his penis throbbing angrily inside her, shooting his hot sperm deep into her white, quivering belly.
"Oh yes," she groaned. "I can feel it. I can feel it! Give it to me! Give me all of it!"
When he slumped in exhaustion over her she could finally hear the other movements in the room, and she raised her head to see the other Apaches leering down at her, wailing impatiently for Stalking Bear to get up so that they could have their turn with this wild-eyed white woman who was so crazed for cock.
The hot, racing fire that had roared so thunderously through Victoria's body slowly subsided in rhythm with the weakening efforts of the spent couple on the mattress. She felt drained and exhausted and it was only after several moments that her mind cleared and she once again realized where she was.
Still huddled behind the fallen table, she watched another Indian approach the ravaged woman on the mattress, heard Lydia's faint pleas for mercy, and then saw the man lower his eager body onto hers. She only barely heard Amy's soft moaning beside her as she turned her head away from the lewd scene before her and tried to calm the frightened trembling in her legs.
Soon, as one maddened Apache after another vented his lust on the helpless body of Lydia Potter, and the woman's pain-wracked screams filled the cabin, Victoria forgot the excitement she had felt earlier. And in its place a horrible dread filled her quivering body as she realized that either she or Amy would be next. It seemed to go on forever, the screams and the husky rutting sounds like those of animals in heat, and yet it could never last as long as Victoria hoped-she wanted the Apaches never to stop viciously raping Lydia Potter because she knew that they would then turn to her. She cowered there behind the protecting concealment of the table, trying with all her mind and senses somehow to make herself invisible.
"There! I want that one!" Victoria's hopes were shattered by Stalking Bear's deep, guttural command.
"No!" Black Elk said softly. "That one is mine." Though Victoria couldn't see him as she hid her face with her hands, the chief turned imperiously to the other Apaches in the cabin, ignoring Stalking Bear as if he didn't exist.
"The dark-haired one is mine," he ordered. "And neither of them are to be touched until we get back to the camp."
Victoria felt only a moment of relief and then realized that his words meant no more than a temporary reprieve. There was no escape, and the delay would only give her more time to dread that torture that eventually awaited her.
"Take the young ones outside to the horses." Black Elk commanded, and turned to an Apache at his side. "Buffalo Man, take care of this whore of a woman and the man outside, and burn down the cabin."
Only half conscious with fear and shame, Victoria felt herself being dragged outside, stumbling as she walked and almost falling as they threw her onto one of the Indian ponies. Through the blurred haze of her dazed mind she heard Amy crying at her side and felt the hungry pawing of eager hands across the softness of her body.
Bound hand and foot and thrown over the back of the horse like a human saddle bag, she hung with her head upside down and the flow of blood that swirled behind her eyes made her dizzy and almost unconscious ... and she barely heard the voices of the Apaches or felt the movement of the horse beneath her as they rode away from the Potter cabin.
So faintly that it seemed to be hundreds of miles away, she heard screams, the sound of gunfire and then a quietness that was broken only by the soft crackling of flames.
CHAPTER 3
She lay completely still. Though she seemed to be asleep or unconscious, it was only the terrible weariness and the tortured confusion of her thoughts that left her powerless to move. She tried to focus her eyes on the beaded antelope sldn robe that covered her but because it hadn't been properly tanned, and still smelled of rotted flesh, and because it was only inches away from her face, the effort made her dizzy and she almost fainted. Amy's muted, mewling cries still filled the fetid, darkened teepee but Victoria barely heard them.
The young blonde girl had been crying ceaselessly and the insistent soft sound had become so much a part of the tumbling noises in Victoria's mind that she no longer heard or noticed it.
She knew that Amy had not been bound by any great love to her stepmother but she knew that the death of the young girl's father had hurt her very deeply. Amy had been huddled further behind that table in the cabin and Victoria didn't think she had been able to see the savage raping of her stepmother, but the sounds had been there for her to hear. And, as they had been carried off on the backs of the Apache's horses the shots that had killed the girl's parents seemed to have snapped her mind.
Victoria had watched as Amy had slowly extracted the knife from the legging of the Apache who straddled the horse in front of her, and she had wondered almost distractedly what Amy planned to do. At first, she thought Amy meant to try to use the knife of the Indian, and then, as she saw her clumsily pointing the knife with bound hands at her own breast, she realized that Amy meant to kill herself.
It had been so strange, as if everything had been in slow motion, and Victoria had been unable to speak. She had wanted to cry out to stop her, and then it seemed as though a small voice had been telling her to remain silent ... that Amy would be better off with a quick and untortured death . ...
Then, the matter had been removed from Victoria's conscience as the Apache had felt the movement beneath him and had knocked the knife from Amy's grasp.
Remembering the incident, Victoria wondered if she herself would have had the courage to take her own life. She wondered if the horrible memories of Bediah and Lydia Potter, the fear and realization of what would probably happen to her ... yes, even that ... would be enough to give her the will to plunge and knife into her breast and know that she had taken the final solution, to know then that her life was only seconds from ending. Victoria shuddered at the thought of the pain and helplessness of suicide and knew then that she would never be able to willingly and consciously be the instrument of her own death. Anything would be better than that.
Her mind returned again to the cabin, the crackling of flames afterward, and then to the horrible memory of Stalking Bear, the other Apaches, and Lydia Potter. God, it was so terrible! She thought. They climbed onto her like vicious animals, like the rubbing bulls in the herds in mating season. She remembered with shame and guilt the way she had watched so intently ... the way she had felt the wild, burning heat that had risen involuntarily in her own loins. She's never known anything that had excited her so tremendously. Oh yes, she'd had dreams like all other young girls, so-called erotic dreams, but now she realized that they had been no more than innocent fantasies ... dreams of princes and gallant heroes who had swept her away in their arms, taken her to moonlit groves and gilted castle chambers and made love to her. And, when they made love to her it had been no more than a rainbow-misted fantasy, indistinct and pure, and without any physical and erotic reality.. . .
But it had been nothing like that in the cabin! Even now, Victoria felt the flush of heat on her cheeks and down in the innocence of her loins as she remembered the great jutting nakedness of the Apaches ... Stalking Bear when he had so viciously thrust his huge, swollen penis into Lydia's waiting, helpless warmth. Only feet away from her the maddened Indian had driven himself deeper and deeper into the spread-eagled depths of her stepmother-and Victoria had watched uncontrollably as the woman's soft flesh had reached out for him, had seen her tight clasping vagina circling his rigid staff and drawing the tight, reddened skin back and forth along its full pulsing length.
Tears of shame and degradation came to her eyes as she remembered the ecstasy and fire that had raced through her body, the climactic intensity that had convulsed her as the huge Apache had reached his climax. She tried to close the eyes of her mind to the horrible memory, tried to block it out like a bad dream, but it was too new ... too clear! Less than eight hours had passed and, until she and Amy had been left by themselves in the Apache teepee, each hour had been punctuated by lewd and vicious remarks by her captors that had kept the memory vividly alive.
Suddenly, her legs began to tremble uncontrollably and her head began to throb painfully. It seemed as if the ground had begun to move beneath her, trembling and throbbing in rhythm with her legs and the sounds in her head. Again and again she shook convulsively, wondering in terror what was happening to her. Even Amy's crying ceased and Victoria turned to see the young girl's eyes staring in wide whitened horror.
It was several seconds before Victoria realized what was causing this strange and terrifying sensation. Drums! Apache drums ... and the wild, barbaric sounds of their lustful celebration of the so-called victory they had won that day.
She clasped her hands over her ears and tried to block out the throbbing portent of the drums, the savage rhythms that heralded the moment when the Indians would come for her-but her hands did no good because she could still feel the ground trembling with the pounding of their feet as they danced outside in victory.
She huddled deeper into the enfolding protection of the robe that covered her, digging her clawed fingers into the dirt floor of the teepee and trying to make herself disappear beneath the surface until she could bore her way to freedom like a frightened mole. Amy's cries had changed in pitch to a mournful whimpering, but to Victoria they had no sound. In her mind she could only hear the thunderous beating of her own heart and the heathenish drumming that shook her body.
She lay still in the musky smells of the teepee, motionless except for the convulsive, terrified spasms that rippled through her body in quivering waves of fear ... and then she heard the leather flap to the teepee opening . ...
"So, you white whores! Your time is coming soon, is it not!" A woman's voice burned the vicious words into Victoria's brain. She didn't turn her head, afraid to look at the person who spoke to her, afraid to do anything but try to dig herself deeper into the darkness of the robes that covered her. She saw the moccasined feet by her head, saw one draw back, and just barely tensed her body before the rush of pain as the woman kicked her again and again in the soft flesh of her breast and ribs.
"You white pig! The women of the village are being sent away from the celebration tonight, so I won't be able to watch," the Apache squaw screamed with unmasked venom, "but there will be other times!"
Then, Victoria felt more than heard the woman walk away and close the rustling flap of the tent.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
A great, roaring fire had been made in the center of the human circle and the flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the almost hidden faces of the eager, anxious men surrounding it. The pungent smell of mesquite and burning buffalo chips from the fire filled the air, and off to the side a second fire still smoldered beneath the spitted, half-eaten carcasses of several dogs.
Victoria lay where she'd been thrown like a pile of limp and dirty clothes at the feet of Black Elk, her nostrils filled with the stench of charcoal and the grease of gnawed bones strewn about the circle. The pounding savagery of the drums was almost deafening and time after time she had to shut her eyes against the clouds of dust kicked at her by the frenzied, barbaric dancers. Laughter and raucous shouting and singing filled the night sounds of the air until the atmosphere was so wild and primitive it seemed unreal ... like a raging, fire-colored fantasy of a flame-filled Hell, and above her sat the supreme satyr, Satan himself ... Black Elk!
The drums, the tribal singing, almost blocked every other thought from her mind-but every few seconds another shrill sound would still burn its way into her brain, the terrified scream would cut through the other noises as if a path had been cleared for it ... Amy's screams!
They had been dragged out into the fiery clearing together, but Black Elk had ordered Victoria to be dropped at his feet and motioned for Amy to be taken into the center of the circle by the roaring fire. In a frightened, tumbling tableau of revulsion and tortuous anticipation Victoria watched as they carried Amy's struggling form to the huge wagon wheel and had tied her, spread-eagled, to the circle of spokes.
She couldn't take her eyes away from the wildly erotic scene before her. Amy had become someone else, someone Victoria no longer knew, and her body in that position was an object of unbelievable obscenity and lust. She was bound with her back to the wheel and the hub pushed her strained naked pelvis so far forward that it stretched and opened the tight confines of her vagina until her cuntal lips appeared to be begging for intrusion and satiation. Again and again one of the naked Apache dancers would dart forward to run his pawing hands across Amy's heaving breasts, or down her body until his fingers brushed and probed the blonde mound of lightly curled silken hair that partly concealed her thrusting vagina.
Victoria had watched with a mixture of disgust and uncontrollable curiosity as the Apaches smeared Amy's body with brightly colored paints and even with the grease from the bones of the food they'd eaten. It was so wildly rotic, so primitive and barbaric that Victoria couldn't associate it with any reality she had ever known. Maybe it was this that had changed Amy from someone she'd known so well to someone else, to someone who no longer had any identity to Victoria.
She watched almost distractedly as someone in a strange, bizarre feathered headdress approached the blonde girl in the center of the circle. He, too, was naked like everyone else except for the chieftain, Black Elk, but his ceremonial bonnet of feathers and crowned with the horned upper half of a buffalo skull distinguished him from the other Apaches around the fire.
"Our Shaman, our Medicine Man," Black Elk spoke down to her, his voice a combination of pride and reverence.
Victoria turned again to watch the man as he shuffled slowly and agedly toward Amy. He was very old, and in the flickering firelight his whole face seemed to be a mask of leathered wrinkles. Below, his scrotum and genitals appeared shrunken and almost indistinct in the scrawiness of his bony thighs. He carried a knife that glinted wickedly in the dancing light of the fire.
Black Elk felt Victoria cringe back in horror at his feet.
"Eagle Man will not kill her ... not now," he said softly, "but he will remove the unclean hair from her body to prepare her for our ritual." He laughed at the obvious disgust on Victoria's face.
"Do not be concerned. The knife is much sharper that the razors your white men use, and she will feel no pain. Our women have all survived, have they not?" He chuckled softly. "You mustn't be afraid, for soon, you, too, shall feel its cold sharpness moving between your thighs."
She quivered at the meaning of his words, a soft moan escaping from her throat.
"What is the matter, white girl? Don't you like our customs?" Black Elk teased her. "We feel that you will be cleaner that way, and then, too, it makes our target easier for us to see." He laughed aloud. "Look at my men, white girl, look at their weapons! A target so small for hunting arrows such as these must be made more visible, no?"
Victoria watched with shamed fascination as the other Apaches made room for the Medicine Man, Eagle Man, and he moved up to kneel directly below Amy's outstretched thighs. She could just barely hear his moaning soft incantations as he held the knife outward in his open palms, and then he traced the point of it down the golden trail of hair from Amy's navel to the tufted and curled edge of her pubic mound.
"AHhlihhhhhh! No! No! ... no, no, no.. . " She heard Amy scream. And then, the Shaman began to slowly shave away the light-colored down that concealed Amy's vagina. The soft hair seemed to fall way so easily from the razor edge of the knife that Victoria felt there couldn't be too much pain, but again and again Amy cried out at the touch of the blade. Victoria's legs trembled with a strange unknown feeling, as if it were she, and not Amy, tied to the wagon wheel, and as if the feathery, teasing touch of the knife was between her own thighs instead of Amy's. She could feel it ... feel it tickling and lightly pulling at the soft ebony hair between her own legs ... feel it brushing across the throbbing lips of her moistened vagina . ...
Then it was over.
There was a gasp of appreciation and desire from the huge circle of naked men as Eagle Man finished with a soft string of words resembling a prayer, and stepped away.
Even Black Elk stirred above her, pushing at his clothes as if to release the pressure on some part of him, and Victoria heard the rustling of escaping breath from his lips. She turned back to look again at Amy. She appeared so much more naked now, the only hair on her body the hair that lay tousled and curled about her shoulders-so defenseless, now that her vagina was completely nude and exposed. Even to Victoria, it was the most erotic and exciting scene she had ever known-the beautiful young blonde girl tied and spread-eagled on the great wagon wheel, clothed only in the brightly colored red and yellow paints of the Apache. Her body seemed to be crying out for ravishment, the heavy, full breasts with their red, erected nipples, and the curved, straining thighs that were opened so wide to expose the dark secret cavern of her cunt. Victoria could see the glistening rim of moistness of the lips, changing in color from a pure pinkness to the deeper reds and beckoning darkness of her vagina ... she could see the small rising bud of Amy's clitoris as it throbbed with the tantalizing touches of the Indians' fingers as they probed and penetrated her.
Amy's screams had stopped, only to be replaced with soft husky moans, and her head lolled to one side with the eyes closed as in sleep-her mouth parted slightly, and like the other mouth below, glistening slightly.
Victoria felt the weight and warmth of Black
Elk's hand on her naked shoulder, and it only seemed to increase the heat deep within herself. She was no longer another prisoner, no longer the other girl the Apaches held captive. No, now she was an enraptured spectator a spectator without clear thoughts of her own-only the heat in her body, the sounds of the drums and dancing, and the desire that rose inside her as the man moved toward the girl on the wheel, the wanting in her body that increased as Black Elk ran his fingers lightly across her shoulders.. .
"STALKING BEAR!" Black Elk shouted, "she is yours. Take her!" He waved his arm toward one side of the circle, and Victoria saw Stalking Bear standing there and felt a sudden shudder run through her body.
Stalking Bear strode into the center of the ring, his body cast in great planes of shimmering bronze as the firelight hit it. He seemed to Victoria to be even more hideous than before in the strange, flickering light of the fire ... his spindly legs and huge, massive chest, and that flattened beetle-browed face. And there, between his legs, his manhood rose and threatened everyone as it bobbed slightly when he moved forward. His penis, that huge, swollen shaft, stood out from his body like the jutting prow of an ancient Viking ship and then as he turned to face Black Elk, it changed from the prow to a great swinging boom-with his body the mainmast of a huge, hulking sailing ship.
"Why THAT one, Black Elk!" he challenged. "I want the one at your feet."
Victoria felt the tightening of Black Elk's muscles as he rose to his feet and stood facing his challenger. They're both so huge, she thought ... but God, please don't let that man take me! Please!
Black Elk stood completely motionless and said nothing. Only Victoria could feel the taut trembling of the muscles in his legs, as if he were preparing himself like a puma to spring at the man who dared challenge him.
Abruptly, the drums became silent and the dancing stopped. All of the men in the tribe were aware of this rivalry between their chieftain and the man in the center of the circle. Some had already taken sides, but to most of them that decision must wait until a victor had been decided. To the Apache, a race that revered physical strength and prowess more than any other human qualities, their leader could only be the man who had proved himself the most powerful. The talking and shouting stopped, and then there was only the crackling of the fire and the soft moaning of their captive on the wheel.
Still Black Elk had not moved. And he'd said nothing. Only stared at Stalking Bear. But his gaze had not wavered, neither had his eyes blinked.
The only visible sign of his anger were the muscles in his arms and shoulders as they swelled and began to ripple beneath his bronze skin.
Then Stalking Bear took a step backward.
"All right, my chief," he said, trying for, and failing to get, a contemptuous tone in his voice. "I shall take the blonde one, but only because I like the fair-haired ones better." Even to him, his excuse must have sounded empty, because his voice trailed off as he backed away from Black Elk.
Victoria felt the relief settle over her as she watched Stalking Bear stride angrily away from her. Black Elk sat once again behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder staring impassively at Stalking Bear's retreating figure.
I will kill him, Stalking Bear thought to himself, for the shame that he has brought me. I am not afraid of him, it was just not a good time for us to quarrel. Still, in his mind, the huge Apache knew that a knife of cowardice had cut through his heart as he stared into the relentless eyes of Black Elk and realized that he would never again be able to meet the Chief fac eto face in combat. There will be other ways, ne thought, and many other times.. .
The loud noises of drums and singing once again enveloped the campfire. Some of the braves were disappointed by the lack of a stirring fight, and those who had taken Stalking Bear's side in the past were disappointed by his apparent cowardice-but most of those present welcomed the return of the attention on the young helplessly bound white girl. Though Stalking Bear would be first, they knew that their turn would soon come, and they eagerly waited to see how he would handle his turn on her nude, inviting body.. .
Stalking Bear swung around to face the helpless figure on the wagon wheel, the wheel that was so much like a medieval torture rack. He stared at the inert body spread-eagled across it. The quietness that had arisen during the savage moments of challenge between Black Elk and him had returned the girl to lucid consciousness. Forgotten were the stirrings of desire in her body and in their place was only fear and hatred for the man who stood before her. She glared at him. All she wanted was a knife, her eyes seemed to say, and he'd regret the humiliating tortures and liberties he'd heaped upon her stepmother.
Stalking Bear lowered his eyes over her body. He could see the small blue veins on her white breasts and the flickering of the golden firelight on the taut flesh where her thighs ran into her hips. He reached out his hand and stroked it softly over her breasts, gently savoring the silken smoothness of the firm skin beneath his fingers. He could feel his lust rising in painful fullness in his loins as he saw the fear and hatred in her eyes. She was his, to do with as he wanted, and there was no man here, not even Black Elk, who would stand in his way.
"They tell me, white girl, that they have seen you in the forest with other white men." He said softly, with an undertone of menace in his voice. "But, have you ever been with an Apache ... with a man as big as I am!" He stroked the swollen, throbbing length of his huge shaft as he taunted her. "Your stepmother, that stupid white woman, loved it ... just as you will."
Her eyes blazed at him, but she made no reply.
"It is a pity that you had to satisfy yourself with white men who were made like children, when all of this time you could have had me."
Amy Potter moved her lips in a grimace of fury and loathing. Her voice was soft and a little strained and horse.
"You horrible, ugly beast! You'll never get any satisfaction out of me, you fat pig!" Tears streamed from her eyes as she spoke, and the rawhide thongs cut into her wrists and ankles as she strained to break free. "I would die before I would ever let you bring any pleasure to me," then she added bitterly, "the way you did to my stepmother! It was you, wasn't it, you scum! You're the one who raped my stepmother!"
"Hah!" he shouted triumphantly. "Yes, I was the one! And I'll be the one who'll have you begging for more, you white cunt."
Amy spat at him, a smile almost crossing her pained face as the sputum trickled down his cheek.
Stalking Bear raised his hand to strike her but instead, with unerring instinct to humiliate her further, he stroked her breast instead and pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"Did those white men ever see your body like this, stretched out and open, and without that silly fluff of hair around your cunt!" he went on, "or could they only slip up under those ridiculous clothes you white women wear and search blindly like the small children that they are?"
"They had more, MUCH MORE, THAN YOU'LL EVER GET FROM ME, YOU APACHE PIG!" She shouted, with the tears of shame and degradation steaming down her face.
Stalking Bear sighed sarcastically and let his fingers slide down over her trembling belly. "We'll see," he said softly, "we'll see how true your words are, white bitch."
"Take your hands off me ... OH GOD! TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME, YOU FILTHY BEAST!"
Victoria watched wordlessly as Stalking Bear bent and kissed one of Amy's nipples and slipped his fingers into her open crotch and penetrated her. Her shoulders trembled convulsively and her body seemed to be on fire. She was so very aware of Black Elk's hands touching her, touching her back and arms and raising the pebbled surface of gooseflesh on her skin. My God, she thought, what is he going to do? What can it feel like to Amy when he touches her that way? No man has ever touched me there!
Stalking Bear gloated over Amy's helpless body ... now he wanted her ... wanted to prove that his words to her had been true. But, just fucking her wouldn't be humiliating enough for her-it had to be more. As he ran his fingers relentlessly and teasingly across her body, listened to the obscenities she spat at him, he began to feel the painful pressure that was building up in his swollen, pulsating prick. It had to be soon, he thought, but how? And, what would be the best way? He'd show the others, and Black Elk, that no one could take a woman the way he could.. . .
With a sudden image in his mind, a thought of what he would do, he began to unstrap her legs.
She turned to face him, the fear and question wide and obvious in her eyes.
Her body sagged against the strain of her arms as her legs came loose, and she cried out as the pin-prickling sensations of pain flowed back into her body as the feeling came back into her legs. Then he untied her wrists which were stretched out above her head, and she slid down over the wagon wheel and crumpled to the dirt at his feet, her eyes wide open and alive, but her weakened body refusing to obey her. Huddled there in the dust, she tried to move and stand up, but her ankles were stiff and dead, her arms numb, so she lay there where she'd fallen, moving her hands to restore the circulation.
Stalking Bear stood there for several minutes, swaying slightly to the sounds of the drums and laughing as he listened to the shouts and suggestions from the other Apaches. He wanted her to recover so that nothing would be lost on her. Then, when she was able to move her limbs and sit up, he pulled her to her knees and then to her feet-letting her stand for a moment and get used to the pressure. The pain from the returning circulation had screwed her face into a tortured mask and the weakness in her legs made her collapse and fall against him, helpless to pull herself away. Stalking Bear grinned madly at the cheers of the other Indians and breathed heavily at the touch of her soft flesh pressing against him.
Then he held her away from him and moved her back toward the wheel again.. . .
Victoria cringed back against Black Elk's legs. Her eyes were glazed over with the tumbling thoughts that tore through her mind. She was surrounded by savage naked men, all she could see were barbaric Apaches each of them as if he was posing for her with giant, erect penises ... they seemed to be everywhere ... huge and swollen ... and waiting for her. She was no longer conscious of what was happening, all she knew was that some great, horrible thing had happened to her ... and that the scene before her was only a portent of the hideous indignities she could later expect for herself.
Amy struggled weakly, but her feeble efforts seemed unnoticed by the powerful Apache as he moved her once again toward the tortuous wheel. Through the haze of her pain-wracked mind she knew that he was going to tie her to it again and she tried to cry out, to get away, but she was completely helpless in his arms.
She slumped limply in his brutal grasp, making him drag her to the rim of the wagon wheel. At first she didn't understand what Stalking Bear was trying to do because he'd moved her away from the position where she'd been before-then it slowly became clear to her. The crazed Apache was going to tie her to the edge of the wheel instead of to the front ... it didn't make any sense to her! He pushed her roughly forward until the cold steel of the wheel casing crushed against her breasts, bending her brutally against it until she was curved around it so that her body became a second wheel rim made of soft, unresisting flesh, She was like warm clay in his hands, too weak to struggle and so dazed that she was unable to pro test. Stalking Bear reached over her shoulders and tied her hands tightly and painfully to the hub of the wagon wheel-and then stood back to survey the provocative helplessness of her bruised young body. He chuckled menacingly and hungrily at the sight of her thrusting buttocks reaching out so invitingly to him, and then he reached behind him for another rawhide rope.. .
Victoria watched with horror and unchecked excitement as the grotesque Indian reached down and caught one of Amy's ankles and drew it up around the side of the great wheel to attach it to the hub next to the girl's wrists. Amy lost her balance on the other foot and sagged down to the ground, held up only by her wrists as the wheel swung around with her weight. Dexterously, Stalking Bear moved around to the other side and fastened Amy's other ankle to the wheel hub. Then he pulled the wheel back to its original position and fixed it with a prop of wood and stood back.
Amy was now in more or less a sitting position against and around the huge wagon wheel. Her body was held in against it, her legs widespread and wrapped around the wheel at an angle that arched away from the ground beneath her. Her hanging buttocks were the lowest part of her.
"Now well see if your words were true, white woman," the Apache said triumphantly. "I'm going to teach you a little Indian humility, you arrogant bitch!"
Amy's eyes were closed, all the weight of her body hanging on her fastened wrists. She was pale and subdued and said nothing.
Quickly now, Stalking Bear moved closer to her, stroking his huge, swollen penis until it throbbed with the weight of his lust and desire. He held it with both hands, feeling it pulsing beneath his touch until the heat was like an aura of white-hot fire around his genitals. He moved to the edge of the fire and took a buffalo robe from one of the intently watching Indians and brought it back to throw it on the ground near the wheel under Amy's behind, which hovered a couple of feet above the ground.
He knelt down on the thick rug and ran his hands down the smooth fines of her back until they flared out over the soft cushion of her buttocks. The skin was silken and sweating slightly with the strain she was undergoing. He ran his fingers between her buttocks, feeling and finding the suddenly satiny and now hairless flesh that seemed so much softer and vulnerable.
For some minutes he caressed her there, while she sagged, seeming almost lifeless, then he felt the stricture of her anal muscles lessening and he penetrated her with the tip of his forefinger. She gave a repressed squeal at the intrusion of his finger into the soft, secret warmth of her anus and squirmed against his touch like a small, trapped animal. She gasped again as he dug farther. He squeezed in another finger and she cried out sharply as her head fell back from the rack-like wheel and then swung forward against the wood again.
Stalking Bear gleefully wormed his fingers around in her soft yielding rectum, pressing out and up alternately, broadening, preparing the nether region that was to receive the issue of his lust. Amy wriggled her ankles against the hub of the wheel but was unable to escape. Her widely spread legs and widely spread buttocks prevented her completely from escaping the brutal invasion of her most private opening.
More and more easily, Stalking Bear was able to slip his exploring finger deeper into the softening, yielding depth. His two fingers had easy access now and he thrust them right in to their fullest extent. He was hard and ready for her, and in his loins there was a ferment of sharp, spiraling coils of sensation. He felt he could wait no longer.. . .
Victoria was so enraptured by the sight before her that Black Elk's hands as he caressed her seemed to be only extensions of the lusting desire in her mind. She wasn't consciously aware of his fingers as he lightly traced them across the velvet erectness of her nipples and cupped her breasts so firmly and warmly with his hands. She felt the heat, the maddening touch, and the tantalizing caresses of his hands ... knew the rising rush of desire that had begun to race unconsciously through her body ... but she wasn't aware of Black Elk as a man who was holding her nude body ... she only knew him as a wild, lusting sensation that was making her body tremble with wanting as she watched the primevil scene before her.. . .
Stalking Bear had laid down carefully beneath Amy and moved into position so that she would descend onto the rearing, thickening length of his hot, swollen penis. Then, with his foot he deftly kicked aside the wooden prop that braced the wheel and reached up to catch her hips as she swung down toward him ... pulling her down onto the waiting threat of his prick.
The trembling arm of flesh battered in at first thrust and he felt her buttocks tense and try to close themselves to him. She cried out in pain and struggled with her bonds, but could do nothing.
The Apache pushed her up gently and the wheel swung back so that all her weight was her wrists again. Then she fell slowly back with the turning wheel onto him once more.
The breech was made and broadened. Stalking Bear heard her moan and pushed up again with his hands. She slid off and was swung up a little then wheeled back again. He was now half buried in her and encountering no resistance. He moved slowly, not pushing her up very far each time, but allowing the wheel to do it for him, simply guiding her gently with his hands. His loins were in fiery turmoil and the engorged crown of his prick throbbed and itched with lust. He wanted to get farther and farther into her and he spread her buttocks wide with his hands and screwed in for all he was worth.. . .
The strain on Amy's wrists when he pushed her up was so great that she was relieved each time she sagged back. She began to resist his efforts to push her up and away from him and he let her rest on his loins while he wriggled around inside her, and she gasped and moaned ... beginning to feel strange, unanticipated tingling in the heated depths of her helpless body.
Amy hated herself for this unexpected reaction on her part, but she couldn't help herself. In her exhausted condition there was little resistance left and it was easier to let herself be carried away on a sexual tide, to allow this creeping in her loins to crawl forward and more forward until her whole aching body trembled and quivered with undeniable excitement. His great invasion of her backside no longer seemed so vile, nor so painful ... and her mind in its tortured state had forgotten who it was that was violating her so crudely and lustfully.
The huge, incredibly hideous Apache had become non-existent, and in his place was only a fierce hunger for more of the wild, pulsating sensation that seemed to fill her whole and innermost being. He was producing swelling sexual sensations deep inside her that she had felt before only with normal and ordinary sex ... she couldn't believe what was happening to her ... only knew that it was.
Again and again he drove into the inner depths of her body, and the relief on her tortured wrists was so great when she was able to rest against his upward thrusting loins and feel that great, throbbing rod digging up into her, making her senses creep so that stage where she knew she would, in spite of her horrified revulsion, cum like the animal she had suddenly become.
She felt his hands clasping the fleshy full roundness of her buttocks, grasping them so hard that his fingers dug into her deeply and must have made furrowed weals in the soft flesh. His action was becoming more and more rapid; he was virtually pummeling her with his driving thrust and she could feel his hard belly, rising up, straining to meet her downward rush so that they met in a clashing embrace and his spear tore in, making her shriek with the shattering force of his body.
She heard him grunting and gasping, heavy masculine sounds with a primitive savage brutality in them. With the growing desire in her belly, she felt her senses opening to him, forgetting completely who it was that was making her submit to this fantastic experience, who it was that held her completely powerless and was using her helpless body completely as he wished.. .
Half hidden by the shadows cast by the roaring fire, and completely unnoticed by the other Apaches who watched Stalking Bear and Amy so hungrily and intently, Victoria was leaning back against the enfolding warmth of Black Elk's thighs. Her mind whirled with raging heat and desire as she watched the maddened Apache's huge prick burying itself so deeply into the young blonde's soft and unprotected behind. Her senses were lost in the fantasy that it was her body and not Amy's that was experiencing the violent and lustful intrusion of the Indian's thrusting penis. Victoria's buttocks squirmed in vicarious rhythm against the ground beneath her as she tried to match Amy's uncontrolled and receptive movements. She pressed farther back against Black Elk's body, feeling the circling heat and strength, and not even noticing as he pushed aside his loin cloth, baring his great, throbbing penis ... sliding forward on his seat of buffalo robes until his huge, swollen weapon rested against the tenderness of her slender neck and brushed against her ear.
She nestled her head against the heat of his throbbing, pulsating rod, burrowed farther back into the straining space between his spread legs until she could feel the hard smootliness of his penis on her cheek. Completely unaware of what she was doing, or what it was that touched her so caressingly, she reached up with both hands and began unconsciously to stroke him. She ran her fingers lightly and teasingly up and down the throbbing length, circling the crown of his pulsating penis with her thumbs and forefingers ... and then she slowly turned her head toward him.. . .
Black Elk watched, almost breathless with excitement and desire, as the beautiful raven-haired girl guided his swollen shaft to her lips and ran her tongue around its bronzed, pulsing head. Then his chest swelled with a sudden, gasping inhalation as she closed her lips over him, enveloping his swollen shaft of flesh with her mouth, and moving her head backward and forward ... slowly ... so tantalizingly slowly . ...
Again and again, as Stalking Bear drove into the eager heat of her body, Amy moaned softly and throatily ... the turmoil in her body a seething cauldron of lust and desire. She felt her helplessness and was both frightened and exulted by it. The great, burning machine that was impaling her from below, spearing so solidly up into the innermost depths of her anus, crushing into her rectum with such powerful force, had thrown her whole mind into a dizzying, spinning whirlpool of sense-blinding ecstasy ... her anus the vortex of unbelievably sexual and sensual sensations. She wanted to take into her body everything that he had to give, and in return, give to him all the willingness and softness of her body that she had to offer. She would wriggle and squirm to delight him with the brushing of her flesh above his, with her subjection to heighten his striving for control and mastery.
He began to shout out strangely in deep, husky groans and she felt the quickening of his efforts beneath her. His movements grew into an exploding and erupting volcano of passion, pervading and probing into her senses until all was swept before it ... a roiling, boiling sea of impassioned lava that threatened to bury her beneath its swelling mass ... she felt the wild, tickling, paining, delighting surge of lust that blinded her mind to anything but the satiation of the terrible hunger in her aching body. She gasped again and again with the crazed Apaches driving thrusts-and with furious movements she squirmed her buttocks down onto him, trying desperately to spread-eagle her thighs even further, desperately to open her rectum even more to his pounding, drilling intrusion.
And then, as she was almost there, teetering on the brink of her own violent climactic chasm ... HE CAME! Filling her with the eruptive explosion of his boiling sperm ... burning in a flowing, spurting sea into the farthest depths of her body. Over and over, he jerked streaming jets of creamy, frothing liquid into her ... until at last, he collapsed weakly beneath her.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes. She had been so close! ... so close! And he'd cheated her! Left her body aching and hurting with horrible unfulfilled desire!
Seconds later, Stalking Bear stirred beneath her. He watched his prick shrinking and quivering in trembling spasms as he pulled it from her-fascinated by the obscene spectacle of it as he slowly withdrew it from the ravaged depths of her rectum. His hands roved over her buttocks in lustful remembrance, softly at first, and then seizing them in handsful of smooth, white flesh.
Slowly, Amy was again aware of the throbbing drums, the laughter and jeering shouts around the fire, aware that it was all directed toward her. But the derisive laughter from the Indians meant nothing to her; she no longer cared what they said, or what they'd seen ... all that was important to her now was to find some way to douse the burning fire in her loins ... to somehow find release from the pain of her unfulfilled desires. Her thigh and the nerves in her abdomen quivered with raging hunger for someone to help her, someone to continue where Stalking Bear had stopped and bring her to the climax she'd come to close to reaching.. .
"How was that, white woman?" Stalking Bear taunted her. "Was that enough for you ... do you want more?"
She couldn't answer him because of the crying out deep in her belly. She couldn't remember ever feeling like this before-it was an almost unbearable torture ... to have been so close to what would have been the fiercest orgasm she would ever know, and then have it held back from her, snatched away before she could experience its delirious fulfillment. She heard him move away from her and she opened her eyes, which she'd closed for a moment in a futile attempt to clear her heed. She saw him, still nude, returning through the flame-stabbed gloom. He was carrying a short whip, like a riding quirt, and at the sight of it her eyes opened even wider in fear and her throat felt constricted. The fear came almost as a relief because it helped to calm the raging lust in her loins, and at the same time she began to feel as if there was nothing of her left that was real: she was exposed and helpless in a way she'd never been before. She could only hope that this cruel man in whose hands she was so vulnerable, would eventually spare her.
Stalking Bear replaced the wooden prop beneath the wagon wheel and she found herself again hanging in mid-air with the straps biting into her aching wrists, the muscles of her back arching under the strain. She could hardly move at all, only press her body into the wooden wheel as she prepared for the punishment he had designed for her.
She heard the leather swishing in the air, but nothing happened. He was teasing her. There was silence for several seconds. She bit her lips and rested her head against the hard and cold rim of the wheel.
Suddenly she cried out and flattened involuntarily into the wood as the first lash of the whip wrapped around her body, stinging it and leaping away again to leave an unbearable flame of pain in its wake.
Her breasts and stomach cringed under the pain and then she flattened into the wood and steel rim a second time as the lash flicked all over her back and buttocks. No sound could get past her lips except soft and animal-like mewling cries of pain.
The next lash was around her thighs, curling in a welt-tracing embrace that sickened her and made her bite her tongue in agony.
Tears of hurt forced their way from under her eyelashes, her belly felt like a void and down in her loins was a strange, frightened, tingling, reaction to the beating. The humiliation of being whipped like a slave or cowering cur was lost in the horror of the pain and an orgiastic reaction to it. She began to sob softly as the lash rose and fell, stroking her back, buttocks, and thighs in flesh cutting caresses.
When he'd stopped and she slowly became aware of the fact, she felt the individual strands of pain across her body and that unfinished symphony of aching in her loins that craved fulfillment. In an unreal world of pain and longing and humility she was capable of strange and unexplainable emotions.
"Hey, white Bitch ... did you like the whip?" Her tormentor shouted at her amid the gleeful and excited laughter of the other Indians.
"Fuck me" she groaned in a low guttural plea, her head lolling Amply back away from the rim of the wheel.
There was a brief silence and then Stalking Bear and the other Apaches broke into rolling peals of astonished laughter.
"So ... our white whore has begun to beg for Apache vengeance!" He shouted. "like all whites, she is just another female dog who'll open her legs to any prowling mongrel."
Whipping her had soared deep feelings of sexual sadism in the core of his body. He walked over to where she sagged with the thin pattern of weals across her back. She looked exhausted. It was difficult to imagine that she would have the energy to make love. He untied her hands and then her ankles and she fell back onto the ground, to roll over immediately onto her stomach away from the pain of the lashes.
"Hey, Stalking Bear ... it's my turn!" came the cries from the other Indians around the wheel. They kept shouting at him until he finally silenced them with an angry wave of his hand.
"No! I am first, and if the white bitch wants more of me, it's my turn! I do not have to give her up until it is I that am too tired to continue."
The men around the fire looked questioningly to their chief, Black Elk, but he was too engrossed in the administrations of the black-haired girl at his feet and paid them no attention. They turned back to the huge man at the wheel and there was no one among them who dared challenge him. So they waited and watched.
The lovely girl at Stalking Bear's feet, for though she was stained with grease and paint and streaked with the lashes of the whip-she was still lovely-lay there for some minutes with the tremendous Apache standing over, looking down at her beautiful firefighted body. She moved her hands and feet gently and groaned softly. Then, she raised her tear-washed face and looked at him. There was no hostility in her hazy eyes, nothing but desire, and their gaze dropped meaningfully to the swollen thickness of his resurrected prick.
"So, you want this inside you again, do you?" he said tauntingly as he slowly stroked himself.
His teasing brought no reaction but a nod of almost desperate agreement. She climbed painfully to her knees. The ache of anticipation had shifted from her loins and seemed to flame all over her.
Stalking Bear yanked her roughly to her feet and she pressed her body hard against him, pressing with the soft flesh of her hips and the sinewy mound of her belly. She joggled against him and he felt the prickling of reciprocating sensations throbbing throughout the pulsating length of his long, thick prick.
He moved her toward the buffalo skin robe on the ground. Her eyes showed no reaction to him, no feeling but that of an inturned yearning. It was as if she were drugged.
As they moved slowly toward the furry pile of rugs, she stroked his penis tenderly as if she adored every inch of it. He made way for her to he down, but she hesitated-making it clear that he was to he down himself. Her back was too sore from the whipping.
Stalking Bear stretched out, tensed his buttocks and jutted his organ massively up toward the star-filled sky. The fire had begun to diminish and the glow was now a centralized one, focusing on them and surrounded by half-pierced darkness.
When he tensed his behind, a live desire moved like a solid thing along from his loins to the base of his thrusting and probing penis. For a moment, Amy stared at him. She ran her fingers softly up his hot shaft of flesh and then swung herself painfully astride him, poising and arranging her vagina directly above it. She leaned forward, resting her hands on either side of his face while she positioned herself.. . .
Victoria had just pulled her head away from Black Elk's throbbing organ to regain her breath when she heard the quiet gasps of expectation around the fire. She turned her head just in time to see what Amy had begun to do. Victoria's hands still held Black Elk's penis and he let out a sudden gasp of pain as she squeezed him too tightly, but she heard nothing. She was so enraptured with the scene by the fire that she was hardly aware of where she was or what she was doing. She saw the avid, hungry expression on the young blonde girl's face and heard her long-drawn moan of deliverance as she slowly lowered her body onto Stalking Bear's. Victoria watched almost hypnotically as Amy began a series of sensual rising falling motions. She watched her rise and fall again with broken sobs of relief, and saw her squirm and skewer her buttocks against Stalking Bear's thighs. Amy rolled about on his body like a puppet, a puppet crazed with human desire for the orgasm that had been so agonizingly slow in coming.
Stalking Bear brought his thighs up from their horizontal position and pressed her buttocks and hips between them. He reached down and with his tingling hands and grasped her thighs and felt the light muscles flexing with her movements.
Her breasts swayed and jumped over her heaving belly and her mouth hung open, under flared nostrils and closed eyes. Her long, fair hair swung across her face each time she descended and with her uprise she shook her head so that it swung away.
The Apache tensed and tensed his buttocks and felt sensations trembling and palpitating throughout his straining body. He knew again that his climax wasn't far off and he dug his fingers into her thighs so hard that he brought a murmur of shock from her puppet lips.
As she bobbed on him, Amy tightened the muscles in her loins, aching for the driving hunger in her loins to subside. She couldn't stand it much longer, the yearning, bursting ball of flame inside her had to have some kind of release.
She clasped his hips with her thighs and she squirmed her bottom from side to side as she fell. She had forgotten the pain of her thrashing. His penis was spreading and battering her body. It hurt, it was wonderful, it was hateful, it was necessary to her desires or she would die.
As if she were drowning, her past life seemed to mist into the sensation that wracked her. This moment seemed to be what she had always waited for, this moment when thinking was painful and the only thing that mattered was the man flesh consuming her in its embrace. If there was only this moment, it was all that she had ever desired. This acuteness of sensation, this beyond-reality that she had never truly experienced with the childish, frightened, fawning, subservient boys she'd known before.
The faint and vague realization of the identity of the man who was controlling her emotions so effortlessly fused with her gasps of pain and desire ... Stalking Bear ... the Apache ... a ruthless and primitive savage who was using her only as a helpless slave, the spoils of war. She wondered what he had done to her, how he'd made her feel the way she did ... uncaring ... unafraid. There was no beauty, no tenderness in the way they were making love ... no hesitation in the way he so ruthlessly took her body ... and yet, somehow, he'd changed her. Something had happened deep inside her body that completely overpowered any hesitancy in her mind.
These thoughts moved through her head like a phantom, not clear, felt rather in a feeling connected like cause and result with the wide, scouring opening of her loins which was beginning to happen now! Now! now! In a maze of wild swimming confusion in her mind and loins she heard his breath growing under her, recognized his climax trembling deep in his throat. With each driving thrust she contracted the muscles in the flaming warmth of her eager, moistened cunt ... concentrating them on the swollen, burning pole down which she slid and then rose upon again like the legendary Phoenix bird rising from still smoldering ashes to live anew. She felt the fire within her burst out into a great conflagration as she moaned in delirium and seemed to die and die and die again.. . .
She was aware after some seconds that seemed like darkness, that the trembling spasms through her thighs and deep inside her was slowly beginning to subside as he still held her up with his arms. Her last thought before she collapsed exhausted along the length of his hot, strong body was that she had never in her life felt anything like the fierce, animal hunger that had so ruthlessly engulfed her body and mind.
* * *
It was both fortunate and merciful that Amy Potter soon reached and passed her threshold of pain and lost consciousness, for the string of Apaches who followed Stalking Bear seemed almost endless. One after one they ravaged her helpless body, each trying to find some new way to degrade and humiliate her, and none tender or gentle in the way that he took her.
So engrossed were they with the indignities and lust they vented on her ravaged softness, there was only one among them who saw the two figures leaving the firelighted circle. And, his anger rose into almost unfathomable rage as he watched the departing couple disappear into the surrounding darkness . ...
CHAPTER 5
Victoria dimly heard the rustling sound of the tent flap as Black Elk kicked it shut with his foot. It didn't stay completely closed but swung open slightly so that it didn't hide the piteous moaning sounds of the distraught Amy being assaulted again and again outside amid the dying firelight and sensuous pounding of drums. She wanted to cry out and plead with him to shut the leather flap tightly, to shut out the sounds that made her again realize the cruelty of the lust-crazed Apaches and the hopelessness of her own situation. But she dared not make a sound now for she was frightened of the brutality that might come into Black Elk's mood if she uttered even the lightest protest.
The raging desire that she'd so uncontrollably felt outside had disappeared when she'd heard
Amy gasp out the soft, final cries of her climax-the climactic orgasm that had seemed in Victoria's mind to be her own-and she'd felt the quiet sadness of the sexual aftermath stretch painfully through her body until it was replaced with blinding shame and fear. Though it was indistinct and faint in her mind, the memory of what she had been doing to Black Elk brought burning tears of remembered degradation to her eyes. She tried to blind the horrible memory from her mind, but instead its clarity increased with each tumbling thought.. . .
Black Elk pulled her toward the bed of animal skins against the wall of the teepee and let her drop face down across it. She hadn't the strength or will to resist him, and she listened as though in a trance at the sounds of the clothes dropping from his dark, muscular body. The inevitability of what was going to happen to her made her quiver in shaking spasms. Then there was silence, except for the rhythmic pounding of the drums outside combined with the animalistic grunts of male passion and the whimpering feminine protests coming from the campfire outside.
Victoria tensed her body and waited for the touch of Black Elk's hands on her back but it didn't come. Instead, he stood for a long moment looking down at her in the dim light from the tallow candle he'd lighted before removing his loincloth. She didn't have to turn her head to know that he was studying her as she could almost feel the hot trails of desire and lust his eyes left behind them as they roved over her reclining form.
"You're pretty," she heard suddenly through the screams filtering in from outside, and her first reaction was to turn her head and see where the strange, suddenly tender, voice came from. It was Black Elk's, for she could see no one else through the hazy blurred vision of her straining eyes. But it was a Black Elk that she couldn't recognize from the tenderness with which he spoke. The very softness of his voice sheared away the brutality in him that she'd heard before whenever he spoke to Stalking Bear, and made him something else, something human in him that she had mysteriously felt in him earlier but had not seen until this moment. It unsettled her and confused her thoughts. It was much easier to consider all the Apaches a pack of wild and savage animals who roamed where they pleased and took what they wanted by virtue of their strength and cunning-just as they had abducted Amy and her and were now using them both as they wished. It would have fit better into her thinking if they had all remained that way, if for no other reason that it would explain to her why these horrible things were happening-but now, with the sudden tenderness of the leader, the one she'd feared even more than Stalking Bear because of his power of life and death over her, she was no longer certain of her thoughts or reasoning.
"You are very pretty, white girl," he said again softly, "what is the white man's name for you?" He made no move to approach the bed even though he had prepared himself to take her.
"Victoria," she said, the words out of her mouth before any thought had crossed her mind.
"Vic-tor-ee-ya" he repeated softly, separating each syllable into an isolated sound. "It is pretty, like one of our names." He paused for a moment, and then added: "To you white people, I am Black Elk-but my Apache name is Washonowah." He said his name proudly, softly accentuating the second syllable.
"It is very nice," she found herself saying wihtout realizing that the words had come from her mouth. It was the first time she had spoken voluntarily to him.
She felt the buffalo skins give beneath his weight as he sat down beside her when he heard her speak. She cringed away from his nakedness from habit though she was not as frightened by it as she had been in the beginning. There was really nothing more for her to fear except death itself. They could do everything to her that was imaginable and she was not so certain now that perhaps death wouldn't be preferable to facing the world again after the brutal and sadistic sexual depravities that she was sure awaited her. Yes, she thought, death would be preferable if it did not involve pain because she could not stand that and knew that she could be bent to their will with it any time they chose if they knew her weakness.
His hand came to rest softly on her back and surprisingly to her, her body did not jerk automatically away. She had been so shamed and frightened since she'd been abducted that she supposed nothing could really move her now unless it was being thrown to the braves to use as an obscene plaything the way they were now using poor Amy. Yes, she was much better off with Black Elk than Amy whose pleas for mercy from the darkness outside had now changed to soft helpless groans of outrage at the indecencies being committed on her helpless body. Victoria found herself wondering what they were doing to her now and shuddered as she pictured the maddened Indians hovering over the girl's prostrate form, each pleasing himself in a different way as it became his turn.
Black Elk's hand moved slowly on her back, mistaking her slight tremble from the lewd picture that had formed in his mind, for the beginning of her acquiescent surrender. The Apache chief was right. The beautiful raven-haired girl had surrendered, but not for the reason he so much wanted her to. The will to resist had been totally destroyed by the pitiful moans coming in from outside. She could stand the threat of sudden pain no more and her fatigue-wracked body was almost beyond feeling anything except the desire to avoid a plight similar to her friend, Amy's. She was his, both mind and body now, and the tenderness with which he touched her helped quiet her fears of further pain so that she lay and let him play with her as he wished.
The huge Apache, sobering slightly from the sight of the voluptuous young white girl stretched languidly beside him, gazed down at her with an almost religious reverence. He would have given anything in the world if he could have possessed her under different circumstances. Momentarily, he'd forgotten the vengeance he thirsted so hungrily for-the whiteness of her skin made no difference, it was what she stood for. She was clean, innocent, and untouched. And even now, he would have given anything if he hadn't taken her by force. If only she had come to him willingly at another time, another place-a beautiful woman who wanted him, and not another that he took by force to calm the raging fires of revenge he so eagerly sought since the banishment of his first love, Soft Rain.
He wished he could explain to the white girl what had made him the way he was, what had caused the terrifying and ruthless raids by his men and him. That there was nothing he or anyone could do to stop them now. The hate had smoldered too long in the hearts of the Apache braves, and there was no longer a way to extinguish it.
There was no explanation he could give her ... they were a complete world apart and he could never put the words together that could even begin to describe the way he felt. She would have to go on forever believing that he was no more than a savage Indian, not a man.
There was no time. And no way.
Victoria felt her body begin to shiver as his hands moved down over her soft round buttocks and traced their way lightly across the tender softness of the backs of her thighs. She could hear him breathing heavily behind her and wanted to turn and look at his face to see if it reflected the sudden gentleness with which his hands moved but she didn't dare. She was afraid it would end suddenly and he would without warning again erupt into the violence she'd seen in him. He nudged her hips up from the furriness of the robes and she lifted without resistance to the gentle pressure to allow him to move his hands tenderly across the fronts of her thighs.
"Mmmmm," she murmured involuntarily as he ran his hands slowly back and forth beneath her, and then moved them back to a soft caress down the furrow of her trembling spine. Her breasts tickled and quivered against the robes below her and she groaned again-not from pain but from some new alien tingle that began again throbbing gently inside her flesh.
His hands came down her back again, slowly and tantalizingly, until they caressed and rounded, voluptuous mounds of her buttocks.
She was completely naked beneath his touch but she not longer felt intense fear-she had come to trust Black Elk in the last few minutes and sensed that he would not hurt her intentionally. In fact, the thought ran hazily through her mind, he would probably stop if she pleaded with him. But she had no intention of doing that now. He had saved her from the depraved hands of Stalking Bear and the other crazed Apaches outside and now she sensed that it had not been totally through desire for her alone, but from a strange compassion that had arisen in him for her as a human being. She knew because the hands playing over the softness of her now quivering flesh were asking, not demanding.
And there was no other way she had to repay him except with the gift of her virginity.
Black Elk had sensed, too, that there had been a change in the white girl. She so longer cringed as a captive beneath his touch as she had done earlier. She no longer pressed her body to him solely for protection from Stalking Bear or the others.
Now, to his amazement she seemed to desire him. Her body strained and worked with his hands as they coursed over her. He rubbed her buttocks in small, tiny circles, gently pressing apart the two full white moons so that he could see the tiny puckered brown hole of her anus nestling there-so open and vulnerable. He cupped the firm full cheeks of her ass again and then slid his finders slowly down them and into the crease caused by the pressure of her thighs lying so close together.
He expected them to clench tightly shut as he pressured gently down between them with his hand but was surprised when they fell limply open without resistance of any kind. He pushed his hand up between the full satin-like softness until his fingers came into sudden contact with the soft down of the silken ebony pubic hair growing tantalizingly up between her thighs. He tried to press his finger up between the soft moist flanges of her vagina but she jerked spasmodically away, not from fear or revulsion, but from the unexpected contact that sent a shiver of warm rippling sensation running up the nerves of her naked back.
She moaned softly, vaguely aware of his hands turning her body on its carpet of buffalo hide until she was flat on her back and the whole of her naked front was presented up to him in delicious photograph of hollows and secret indentations.
He kneeled beside her running his hands reverently over her breasts, her flat white belly, her thighs, up and down over her unprotected nudity with shaking hands that brought forth small animal mewls of pleasure from between her tightly clenched teeth. His passion was increased by the sight of his dark, coppery hands moving over and bringing the gasping and quivering response from the light golden softness of her body.
He watched her open her eyes and look up at him for a moment, their gray-blueness shadowed by the dim smoky veil of building passion that was beginning to course through her.
Victoria, somewhere back in the distant ages since his hands had reached for her body, had drifted into a strange unknown world of sudden deep, soft pleasure of the flesh. She had lain beneath his hands at first in fear, then in the grim realization that she had a debt to pay. Now ... all conscious thought of why she was here or who her slowly flaming body was writhing beneath was lost in her memory. It no longer mattered as she felt the icy licking flames running all around her, between the softness of her inner thighs, out the tip of her now throbbing and pebble-hard nipples, and down again to the burning core of her vagina where they roared in white-hot heat like the fire of a Blacksmith's forge.
"Oh God," her voice whispered softly without even knowing it had spoken. "Oh God."
Black Elk pressed his lips down over hers and immediately felt the hard rigid pressure of her tongue spearing up into his mouth in her unconscious quest for a warmer, wetter contact with the devil-like thing so deliciously torturing her body.
His hands continued rummaging over her and he ran them between her thighs-they didn't jerk away this time but opened voluntarily to admit him to the very core of her being. He felt the stretched tautness of her maidenhead and its meaning came as a sudden and delicious shock to him. It would have been unimaginable for a girl of her age-and he guessed her to be about eighteen-and particularly one as beautiful as she to have remained a virgin in his tribe for so long. The realization that he would be her first man, the first to ever initiate her to the impassioned awareness and experience of making love almost drive him out of his mind with trembling desire.
His finger again brushed against the moistened, silken membrane of her maidenhead and he could feel the warm center of her loins flexing almost imperceptibly in passionate answer to his naked touch.
"AHhhhhh ... Ahhhhhh," she was sighing continuously up into his lips, her tongue pushed up into his and circling deep around inside as though searching desperately for another entrance to his mouth.
Her passion spurred his own. Disbelief buzzing through his brain that this could be happening.
He couldn't stand it for another moment and he moved over, slithering on top of her warm, soft, glistening body like a protective second skin. He could feel her quivering helplessly out of control beneath him and he reached down his sides with both hands and drew her unresisting thighs up the sides of his hips until he whole of her wet, throbbing, virginal vagica was presented up to him in welcome, pagan sacrifice. He held them there for a long tortured moment and started to reach down and implant himself inside her-but at the last moment he stopped . ...
He wanted her total surrender and it would be worth breaking the spell she was under. It would make it all a thousand times more meaningful if she were to take him to her of her own accord and desire. He held his breath and spoke in a whisper.
"Put it in."
And he let his breath slowly out in a long gasp of relief as he felt her hand burrowing down without hesitation between them and her warm fingers close tightly around his rigid flesh. She was still then for a moment and he held his breath again in fear that she would suddenly regain her senses and twist away from him. It was a long, long second later that he breathed out again in joyous relief as he felt her thumb tighten around the hot, pulsating head of his penis and slowly but firmly push up. He gasped, and his lips bared away from his white, ivory-like teeth as she peeled back the thick bronze foreskin away from his swollen, throbbing shaft and gently pressed the moist, sensitive tip of his cock into the wet, heated, and waiting lips of her vagina.
He could feel the soft silken pubic hair grazing gently against his prick as it hung poised for entry into the tight, trembling lips, and he heard her soft impassioned plea.. . .
"Slowly ... please my darling ... I ... I've never done it before.. . . . "
The hot, smooth warmth was excruciating and it was all he could do to hold himself back from lunging forward to sink the whole of the heavy pulsating weight jutting out from between his legs with one mighty flesh-splitting thrust into the helplessly impassioned white girl's eager and quivering cunt.
But he waited.
He waited because she needed it, she needed so much tenderness the first time that her trembling virginal body would be penetrated by a man. And he wanted it to be right and perfect for her. So he waited. And it tortured him beyond his wildest imagination because he knew that he had conquered her soul and that she was completely at the mercy of his desires. This same chance might never come again, and he still held himself back ... away from that one final plunge that would fuse them together into a welding of molten human metal ... he waited to wring from her that final admission of surrender that it was she who had wanted him, and that he had used no force.
She had to know that. She had to be conscious of it, or it would mean nothing at all. She had to remember that she had done it, and had done it because she had desired it more than pride itself. Then there would always be that memory alive in her that it had been what she had wanted, and that it had been beautiful ... she had to feel it within every pore in her body when he gave it to her and there was only one way . ...
Victoria lay moaning in tiny unintelligible gasps that seeped from between her tightly clenched teeth. Her body ached and she was vaguely aware of his great bronzed form hovering over her. Her thighs and loins were wide apart and wet from a strange and delicious soft pressure that she herself remembered placing there an eternity ago and she hungered. Hungered deep inside her contracting vagina as though it were a ravenous animal waiting to be fed.
Black Elk levered up on his hands into a pushup position above the slowly, undulating body of the trembling girl. Her face was contorted in indescribable rapture and her lips were pursed in a wet rounded oval shape with tiny wisping groans of half-conscious pleasure escaping around the soft pinkness of her tongue as it circled ceaselessly, moistly around the inside of her mouth. He looked down between the contrasting color of their bodies and could see his giant throbbing hardness pressed darkly into the liquid saturated folds of her pink and open cunt. The soft silk of her pubic hair surrounded his swollen, pulsing shaft of flesh in a lust-inciting fusion with his own curled hair ... and the sight caused his cock to throb involuntarily against and just barely inside her.
"Ohhhhh!" she moaned aloud as she felt the wet, moist contact growing closer.
He strained for all he was worth against the all-consuming desire to ram forward at that very moment and impale her instantaneously like a ravished white goddess on a stake. There was too much of her that he had yet to taste ... and he wanted it all. He knew of no future for them, and this might be the last chance he would ever get.
He looked down at her large firm breasts, with their pink erected nipples, as they swayed slightly outward from the centerline of her body and quivered tremulously with each soulful gasp that came from her throat. He pulled slightly away from her until his hard, swelling penis slipped from the warm, wet confines of her vaginal lips and moved forward up on her chest-straddling her with one leg on each side of her hips-and then he gently placed his throbbing coopery cock in the narrow cleft between her breasts so that her warm flesh enclosed him on both sides.
Her eyes opened momentarily but flickered shut again quickly as though she too was afraid that the spell that hung over her body would be lost. Her mouth still hung open, crooning softly into the dim light cast by the tallow candle.
Black Elk's hands shook and he reached down and crushed the soft resilient mounds of her breasts between his strong sinewy fingers, making tiny ridges of white that stood up between the dark copper of his fingers like the whiteness of a moon in the dark sky. He kneaded and stretched at them-watching them ooze through his hands like firm, and yet soft foam-springing back into their voluptuous shape the moment the pressure lifted. He pushed them together so that they met across her body and formed a velvet, yielding tunnel inside which his cock was so sensuously entrapped. He pressed them so hard that the nipples met at the top and then began a gentle rocking motion, thrusting his whole, swollen rigidity through the warm channel formed by her firm, white, rounded breasts. As he pushed, the red-brown crown of his cock appeared at the far end of the warm, soft tunnel and brushed gently against her chin leaving a tiny spot of moisture each time it touched, from the seminal fluid seeping from it in his excitement.
He kept up the slow rocking motion between her quivering breasts for several minutes, feeling his penis growing and expanding until he was afraid it would erupt into a great gushing fountain of sperm before he was ready. He had to force himself to sit still for a moment and content himself with pushing and pulling at the maddening softness of the two throbbing mounds so warmly surrounding him. He tweaked at the nipples and rubbed them over the top of his cock together one against the other, watching with bared teeth as they jerked and throbbed into an even greater hardness than he thought possible. At the same time, he studied her face and the reaction it was having upon her.
It was electrifying!
Her eyes were open now and gazed unseeing up into the darkness at the top of the teepee. A thin smoky veil of passion obscured their dilated pupils. Her hips and buttocks writhed sensuously on the robes beneath her, her thighs limply kicking out and then drawing up again as though searching for some invisible lover to draw inside them. She was completely out of control and Black Elk knew that nothing he did not would matter, she would accept any degradation he would force upon her to quell the fire that was raging out of control in her vagina.
There was just one more thing before he fucked her.
His eyes locked on her full red sensuous lips still muttering nothings out into the air from her tortured need-and he remembered the way she had taken his penis into her mouth earlier, when they had watched the other girl and Stalking Bear. He had known at the time that she had been so taken up in passion that she hadn't been aware of what she was doing ... but now it was different.
He looked again at her mouth, and saw her lips wet and moist from her tongue swirling around them as she lay suffering beneath him in unfulfilled desire. He wanted to shove his cock down in between them and he shuddered as the mere thought of that moist warm cavern closing around it caused it to jerk and almost ejaculate where it lay between her breasts.
He moved up a little so that his knees were on either side of her neck and his long, swollen, bronze cock throbbed out directly over her face, presenting her unseeing eyes with a view of the sperm-filled ridge running beneath it. His balls lay gently against her chin. He lay still for a moment, feeling the firm resilient mounds of her breasts flattened beneath his buttocks. He did not move in order to give her mind time to adjust to the change in position. Whatever he did not must be slow so as not to break the spell she was under. If she ever returned to total consciousness he knew her mind would fight the dictates of her body and he did not want her in rape tonight. He wanted her insane with desire.
He placed both his hands gently down behind her head and lifted it up off the fur beneath it, bending her neck up toward him so that her face and mouth were poised directly in front of the huge palpitating head of his cock. He pushed forward slightly, his buttocks rolling on the cushion of her breasts, until the tip of his penis was pressed gently between her slightly open lips. He groaned when he felt the soft velvet surfaces of her lips brush against the sensitive skin of the head. Her mouth closed at the first touch and he held his breath waiting for a sudden cry of protest ... but none came.
Instead, her lips fell limply open and her head pressed forward of its own volition without his having to pull her to him. The movement caught him by surprise, and then he watched with unbelieving delight as the tight rounded oval of her mouth enclosed the tightly stretched skin of his pulsating prick.
She started using her tongue, slowly at first, and ae could feel it moving in circles around him, causing his prick to jerk in spasms inside her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm, and enclosed him in a clasping elastic ring of flesh. He could feel them with pained intensity moving down his cock and taking as much of him as she could in her mouth, and surrounding him with the hot moist warmth of her saliva and the tender inner flesh of her tongue. He pressed his hands on either side of her hollowing cheeks and pressed inward with his fingers.
She began to suck him with a moist, nibbling pressure and her tongue licked and curled around him as though she had done this a thousand times-and all the hunger burning deep in her vagina was now concentrated in one great gust of sensation in her mouth. Black Elk groaned incoherently above her flailing head and pushed his hands tight against her cheeks.
He wanted her to make him cum and he wanted to make her swallow it so that she would know later that he had bent her completely to his will, that he had dominated her by her own passions as she would never be dominated again. He flexed his hips in and out at the ovaled hole formed by her lips and rolled his buttocks on her crushed, yielding breasts as though he were attempting to flatten them down into her chest. He watched wild-eyed from above as his dark, glistening flesh disappeared into her clasping lips like it was another hungry, nibbling cunt. He could feel all of himself, every nerve he possessed pulating and throbbing between her lips and into the moist cavity and warmth of her sahVa-filled mouth.
He felt the tingling deep in his loins, watching the swelling and hollowing of her cheeks ... feeling her licking him as she sucked, biting gently from time to time. Now, her eyes were seeing him, holding his, matching his look of furious passion with her own. He held her face tighter with his hand, guiding it, feeling the rhythmic movements deep inside her mouth. If he pressed inwards he could actually feel his solidity in her mouth.
"Suck harder," he ordered throatily.
He felt her answering response-a greater pressure, a tighter embrace from the warmth of her lips. He felt his culmination growing into a burning fire in his loins-the pain almost driving him to climax.
He began to rock again slowly, flexing his loins forward as she sucked. She had released his prick from her hands and was stroking his buttocks with them, running them across the sensitive skin. She was breathing heavily, passionately, through her flared nostrils and he could feel her hips moving again under him.
Her hands couldn't stay still on him and he felt them, suddenly, drawing lines of loin-convulsing sensation across and around his balls hanging down across her breasts.
He gasped aloud at the new attack and shoved so hard that for a moment she fought for breath and nearly choked before reorienting her embrace.
He gasped again, tensing his loins. He could feel himself starting to cum, slowly at first in a sort of smoldering ember. She began to lick and suck with great urgency and a clamping hot pressure spread rampantly through his body.
The ember grew. He flexed his loins at her hard and held her face, looking into her eyes that seemed to gasp into his in a strange visual voice.
Inside him the ember burst into flame and roared from the pit of its sensation ... louder an more furious ... he looked deep into her eyes, owning her, subduing her beneath him, wracked with passion. The fire raced through him, quivered in his penis, trembling and threatening to overflow.. . .
The passion deep in his body neared sudden explosion. His loins were growing hot and he was sweating between his legs, but still she sucked, burying her face between his thighs until he knew it was the end. The pressure building in his balls as they slapped against her chin while she drew him into her wildly sucking mouth even deeper-her passion and ecstasy beyond control-and the delicious pain in him become excruciating and unbearable. His cock seemed to inflate and lengthen beyond anything it had ever been before.
And then suddenly, there was a jerk in his loins and nothing in the world could have stopped the liquid white flow that was rushing like a waterfall up from his aching balls and out the tip of his spasmodically jerking penis. He gripped her head tight between his hands and shoved his cock deep into her throat. She groaned beneath him as the first needle thin spurt of hot, fiery liquid flooded into the back of her mouth, filling the warm, moist cavity, bloating and stretching her cheeks until they almost burst. Her throat worked gluttonously, swallowing and spluttering to keep from choking on the white flood of semen as he emptied his balls relentlessly into the depths of her throat.
Black Elk's body quivered above her as he felt the last of his masculinity drain from his rapidly deflating penis. He was momentarily exhausted and he to brace himself with his hands tangled in her black hair to keep from falling to the side of the buffalo robes. He started to lift himself from her, but to his amazement she would not let his deflated organ escape from her lips. She continued to suck gently, undulating her buttocks behind him down into the soft furs and rubbing her legs together hungrily. He watched with disbelief the tiny trails of white cum trickling down from the corners of her mouth to her chin below. He had never in his life felt anything like what had just happened to him-it seemed that he had been completely drained of all the strength and desire he had ever possessed.
But after a while his cock began to thicken again in the soft, now slippery, warmth of her mouth. She licked it and bit it gently, seeming to take pleasure and delight in her power to bring it to life again after its cataclysmic collapse.
Then, when it had grown to full size once again and he thought he could never make love again as long as he lived, he felt the desire begin to rekindle in his loins. She continued to nibble for a moment longer, laving her slippery tongue around and around him until she was certain that his once-again swollen penis was restored to its full length and power-and then she let her head fall back onto the furs. His rejuvenated and throbbing organ slipped wetly from her mouth, a small, thin string of semen still connecting her glistening lips to it.
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him through smoky, desire-ridden pupils for a silent moment, and then pleaded in a desperate whisper:
"Fuck me . . .please!"
She reached for him, biting his lips and his neck. She was like an uncontrollable, fighting tigress.
His mind whirling with disbelief and delirious pleasure, Black Elk began caressing her, tantalizing her, bringing her to a savage pitch of excitement ... with his own thunderous, growing passion stilled by his power into a controlled background of his mind. He felt her thigh slipping and digging under his, trying to get him to mount her. Her arms pulled his face onto her, his chest over against her breasts that strained up, digging into him with stiffened, erected nipples.
"Now, now," she murmured huskily. "Do it now!"
Overcome with nervous excitement, now that the moment had come, as if afraid of her virginity and the power of his own passion, Black Elk hesitated, caressing her with his hands only until she was groaning with ecstasy.
"Please, please, now, now," she begged, hardly able to utter the words, her hands squeezing blindly on his throbbing rod of flesh.
Black Elk slithered farther up onto her. She made a superb, burning cushion for his body. Her thighs swung wide and up again as she felt the smooth pulsing head of his penis brushing against the eager warmth of her vagina. She gripped both his shoulders very tightly with her hands and he could feel her quivering uncontrollably with emotion. Black Elk ground his hips against her, longing to plunge into her hot, liquid depths immediately, but waiting and treating himself to the sound and sight of her passion and desire.
Then she released her hold on his shoulders and he felt her hands moving down again ... feeling for, and then finding his throbbing cock. She held it gently, seeming to hold her breath at the same time, and then she guided it toward the beckoning warmth of her cunt.
Now! His mind screamed at last in a sudden moment of fierce, violent joy. He thrust in with a long, excruciating pressure, all the way in one bursting, agonizing movement-he felt the breaking away of her virginal barrier, and simultaneously heard the soft, choking scream escape her clenched lips. Then the cry became softer and for a moment she was motionless except for the spasmed quivering in her thighs-then she drew her thighs up again and he felt her teeth biting into his shoulder . ...
"Aaaahhhhhh" her moans continued on a slightly lower key, a continuous, gentle, lost groaning. There was no longer a tone or hint of pain, only the soft, mewling moans of ecstatic emotion and passion.
Her thighs opened further, giving him wider access, and moved back toward her shoulders, giving him greater depth-and then came back to his hips ... moving and slithering against them as he pistoned his body, his huge, swollen prick in and out of her hot, eager cunt. Her breasts flattened and rounded under his varying pressure and her eyes opened to look abandonedly into his as her groaning lips sought to touch, to kiss, to bite, to caress his face.
His loins aflame, consumed in the ecstatic relief of her clenching containment, he could feel the pressure building up again in his pulsating staff. He knew his orgasm would come quickly, there was nothing he could do about it, and he tried to urge her to meet his quickening speed ... to reach the same climactic finish with him simultaneously.. . .
"Oh God! Oh God! Oh my God!" Victoria's mind screamed out again and again into the velvet darkness of her senses. What is happening? What, dear God, is happening to me! That fire burning in my body ... that fire! ... it's searing my soul! Over and over her mind cried out indiscernible screams of desire and pleasure. She had never known anything ... never anything, like this!
She squirmed under him, thrusting and pulling away, grinding her hips and her starved cunt up into and around him ... building her lust into intense final pressure.. .
She moved her hands around him, over his shoulder, down his back, to his buttocks which she could just reach. She pressed on them, pulling him deeper into her boiling depths, swinging her legs higher ... circling his thighs ... and then further, until they gripped his waist.
Black Elk slipped his hands under her full, soft buttocks that strained so firmly in his hands and then relaxed softly again. He reached underneath, feeling her thighs from behind-and then she gasped anew as his fingers probed further, brushing in with the full length of his driving, pounding penis.
Her head began to move from side to side on the bed of piled furs. Her legs released his waist and swung down, straightening and flattening, gripping him again before falling away, almost at right angles to her body.
Black Elk's fingers slipped from the liquid heat of her clinging, gripping cunt and ran up the crease between her buttocks. He pulled her buttocks apart, and she gave a gasp of passion through her moaning. He plunged a finger against the small tight barrier of her rectum and felt her give, his finger breaking through to the soft, tender flesh inside.
"Oh! Oh! Oh ... oh," she gasped again and again.
She began to writhe as if in a trance. It has to be soon! her mind screamed out to her. It had to be! All she could feel was an all-consuming fire as he pounded into her, pulling back and then thrusting again-with each thrust coming faster and more furiously than the last.
She opened her eyes and looked at him desperately. Her eyes seemed to be speaking to him, pleading with him, abandoning herself to him. Her mouth opened and her tongue came out-a long, point-tipped, moist and perfectly smooth tongue.
Black Elk lowered his lips to her and bit the tongue gently. He ground into her clasping cunt now with slow, strong strokes. He couldn't keep his mouth on hers as he raised up, his hands beneath her buttocks as he pulled them up, lifting her against him.
She wriggled furiously, her shoulders quivering and her breasts under his eyes. She groaned and looked at his eyes in a last gleam of passion and then her mouth opened in a great circle, her head dropped back, her thighs clasped him, and then she came.. .
Husky aching gasps broke from her mouth, another and another, finally dwindling into body-wracking sobs of ecstatic passion.
Still cupping her churning buttocks in his hands and fired by the sight of her fulfillment, Black Elk, himself, trembled on the brink of release. Her beautiful body, heaving with passionate sighs, was in his hands. He looked down and saw her thighs hanging over his hands as he held her bottom. Her breasts swayed and heaved below him and that narrow waist was heaving too above the hips that he held up slightly off the fur robes. He thrust savagely into her and felt his prick growing and swelling as if it would expand a thousand times and ultimately burst into a thousand pieces. He ground slowly, slowly, extracting every blinding sensation from the long, slow stroke. His breath was rising up from his chest, rising up through his throat. He felt the quick fire darting through his loins and come racing into his mind and senses. He surged up into her belly as the breath broke from his throat, twisting his mouth out into an agonized explosion. He felt the pressure of her thighs renewed and flettingly heard a faint gasp echoing her recognition of orgasm.
For several moments he slammed into her, then, slowly, he collapsed onto her warm, cushioning flesh and felt her arms circle him gently, and her hips, light and tender, on his cheek.. . .
CHAPTER 6
The tent flap closed again as silently as it had opened, and the teepee became as quiet as it had been before. It was though the Apache woman, Summer Storm, had never been there.
Victoria fingered the knife in her hands, trying to sort out the confused thoughts in her mind. She said nothing. Suddenly, the silence was broken by Amy Potter's elated words:
"Vicky, isn't it wonderful!" she whispered. "Now we can get away and back to our own people."
Victoria heard the huskiness of Amy's voice as she kept repeating the words she'd spoken, and though it was too dark in the teepee for them to see each other, she could sense the tears that had come into the young blonde girl's eyes. Still, she said nothing. It just didn't seem right, somehow.
"Vicky? What's the matter? Aren't you happy?" Amy whispered questioningly.
"What? ... oh, no, it's not that, Amy" Victoria answered softly. It's just that I'm not sure we should listen to that woman ... she's.. . "
"She's what?" Amy said almost angrily. "She's going to help us. What more do you want?" Then she added sarcastically:
"Or is it just that you want to stay here with your Apache!" This time there was no doubting the anger in the girl's voice-the anger and the meanness in her tone.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Victoria answered, though her voice was almost without emotion. It was a question Victoria was becoming used to from Amy, and there was really no way she had been able to answer it. There was certainly no truth in Amy's accusation, but at the same time, Victoria couldn't blame the girl for making it. It had been almost a week since that first night and no day had passed that an Apache hadn't come for Amy Potter-and several times there had been more than one Indian. She'd be thrown back into the teepee in the morning, battered and bruised, and sobbing softly with her pain and humiliation.
But, for Victoria, it had been different.
Black Elk allowed no one near her, not even the hulking Stalking Bear. It was only the chief who called for her, and when he did he treated her with almost reverent kindness. It was his strict order that the man who touched her would be killed, and it seemed there was no one who dared disobey him.
Victoria had pleaded with him to protect Amy, but each time she mentioned it he became furious and threatened to let Victoria take her place. Then, later, usually in the quiet aftermath of love-making, he'd explain that it was even difficult for him to justify his orders concerning Victoria to his people, let alone deprive his men from taking their pleasure with a second girl.
By now, Victoria had learned that there was a sever shortage of Apache women with Black Elk's nomadic raiding party-the reason being, mostly, that the other women had been left with the children and elders up in the Cimarron. Because of this, the men felt that they were due the spoils of any foray against the whites, and that included the equal use of the female captives. What Black Elk had done with Victoria was unprecedented, and if he had been a weaker chief he probably would not have been successful.
And now, each time she mentioned Amy she realized another reason for his anger. She was fairly certain Black Elk had fallen in love with her and her pleas for Amy made him feel as if she, Victoria, were using him only for Amy's and her protection, and had no other feeling for him. From time to time he would suddenly and without reason go into a rage and threaten to kill them both and Victoria knew that it was mainly because she would not reassure the proud Indian that she, too, was in love with him. And, she also knew that his pride would not allow her to remain undeclared much longer.
But she had no idea what to tell him. She felt sure that if she lied to him he would know immediately, and that would be worse than remaining silent. She just couldn't imagine herself to be in love with an Indian! He wasn't white, he wasn't educated by her peoples' standards, and he was a renegade, an outlaw ... but still ... she knew that he was the most exciting man she had ever known. True, he was the only one who had ever made love to her so that she had no experience to measure him in that way. But when they did make love, it was so beautiful and so tenderly passionate that she felt in her heart that no other man would ever be able to make her feel that way ... white or not! And then there were those times that he would talk to her, of life and all the living things that he loved ... of her and how lovely she was ... he'd compare her to the stars, to the grace of the prairie deer, and to the softness of the morning dew. It was these times that confused her most. When he became, not a hated Apache, but a man who loved her and would protect her for the rest of her life. It was then, that the words he wanted so much to hear, almost came to her lips. But ... he was an Apache! ... how could she?. . .
"Well, I don't think it's ridiculous!" Amy shouted, interrupting her thoughts. "I think you're in love with.. . " and then her voice broke, and softened as her eyes again filled with tears:
"Victoria, I ... don't mean that. It's just that I want ... I have to get away from here! You don't know what they do to me ... it's so ... so horrible . .
She stopped, the words choked back into her throat as the memory of those terrible nights clarified itself like a burning light in her tortured mind.
She fell sobbing into Victoria's arms, her shoulders quivering and her soft cries like those of a wounded, trapped animal.
"I ... I can't stand anymore ... not again ... please, Victoria, no more nights ... please," she begged, "please, we have to go ... you have to help me." She stood back, her eyes red and rimmed with the raw saltiness of her tears.
"What is it, Victoria? Why don't you want to go?" She pleaded. "That Indian woman wants to help us escape."
"It's just because it's that woman that frightens me." Victoria replied. "Don't you know who she is?"
"Sum ... Summer Storm? Isn't that what she said her name was?"
"Amy-remember our first night here ... remember the woman who came into the tent and said she would kill us. Why would she be willing to help us now?"
"I-I don't know," Amy faltered, "maybe she's changed her mind ... it doesn't matter, does it? She said she would help us ... oh, please, Vicky, PLEASE!"
"Amy, listen to me!" Victoria grabbed the girl and shook her by the shoulders. She had to make her understand. "Amy, stop crying and listen to me ... she wouldn't change her mind! Maybe for you, but not for me!" She almost shouted the words at the crying girl.
"She used to be Black Elk's woman! And he's sent her away from him because of me. She hates me. She has to, I know she does."
Amy was silent for a minute, her shoulders slumped and dejected. Then, suddenly, she grabbed Victoria's hand and shouted elatedly:
"But that's it! Don't you see, Victoria!" She shook Victoria's shoulder laughing. Don't you see?'
"What? I don't understand, Amy," she answered, puzzled, "Don't I see what?"
"That's why she's helping us. Because she wants to get rid of you! She doesn't want you around Black Elk!"
"Amy, what in God's name are you talking about? She wouldn't help me excape, she'd try to kill me."
"No! No, not if she wanted Black Elk." Amy was almost shouting, and Victoria had to grab her arm and quiet her.
"Okay, okay ... but listen to me," Amy said more softly. "If she harmed you, she'd lose the man she loves because of his anger, he might even kill her." Then she added softly, like a teacher explaining a simple problem to a schoolchild:
"But, if you escaped. What could he do? He wouldn't know that it was Summer Storm who helped us. And, then she'd have him to herself again. See! It's so simple. That's why she's doing it. Doesn't it make sense?" then, answering herself, she added: "Of course it does! Oh, Vicky, she told us that there are some of our people only a few miles from here ... we can make it. I know we can!
"Wait, please, Amy, let me think," Victoria said, pleading for time to rearrange her confused thoughts. It did make sense. Yes, it had to, she thought quickly. Amy's right. There couldn't be any other answer.. . .
* * *
CHAPTER 7
The whispering voices in the shelter of the trees would have been mistaken for the soft night sounds of small forest animals by anyone more than a few feet away, and passing storm clouds that concealed the moon above them lent an almost total darkness to shelter the two people who waited there. The voices, low enough to sound like the hum of night croackers, belonged to a man and a woman-and their conversation was interrupted occasionally by the sound of a cork being pulled again from a stone bottle.
"Remember, Stalking Bear," the woman said as she handed him the earthen jug of mescal, "the most important thing is that they're both killed."
"Yeah, I know," the Apache answered, his voice slurred from the potent liquor of the maguey plant. "I'll take care of that, don't worry." And then he laughed menacingly as he added:
"But, not until I take care of a matter with that proud little black-haired one!"
Again, the woman held the bottle out for him. "Yes, I know what you want. Don't worry, I want it too! I want you to make that white bitch suffer before she dies." She paused, and then the deathly venom in her voice even repelled the drunken man beside her:
"I want you to make her suffer, do you understand. I want you to make her plead for death." Then, she added softly and almost contemplatively:
"I may cut her heart out myself."
Stalking Bear drank deeply from the bottle, his eyes already glazed and his senses numbed from the powerful liquid-but not so numbed that a trace of fear didn't still remain in his drink-befuddled mind.
"Are you sure this will go the way you planned, Summer Storm? Black Elk will not know?" Then he added with a false and liquor-induced tone of bravura:
"Not that I care what our pretty chief wants!" The ugly man said.
Summer Storm felt her first hesitation. Perhaps she had given him too much mescal already. She didn't want him so drunk that he would challenge Black Elk ... it could ruin everything she'd planned! That drunken fool was strong enough and could get lucky enough to hurt, perhaps even kill, the man she loved ... No, she had to convince him that her way was the best.
"Listen, Stalking Bear, you must do it the way I said and nothing will go wrong." She was careful with her words, afraid that she might say something wrong, something that he might assume to be an affront to his bravery.
"Black Elk won't," and then she saw him flinch again at the sound of the chief s name and knew that no amount of liquor could make him lose his fear of the chief, "uh, Black Elk will never know what happened to his white woman, or the other one-you just hide their bodies where I told you and he'll never find them ... he'll only think they've escaped and gone to those White skinners you found the other day." She chuckled softly to herself as she thought again how foolproof her plan was. The white girl dead ... both of them! And Black Elk would be hers again. There was nothing that could go wrong ... not even if Black Elk found that Stalking Bear had murdered them, She knew the chief's rage and he would probably kill Stalking Bear before he could ever incriminate her ... but even if he did say that she was part of the plan she was sure that Black Elk would not believe him. In fact, she thought, that might be even better ... if anything at all were to go wrong, the first thing for her to do would be to say that she had witnessed what Stalking Bear had done, and then his words would sound only like revenge against her.
"Soon, they'll be here." She laughed. "They're coming to me because I'm going to help them escape! I even gave them a map to the place where the buffalo skinners are camped. But, they'll never get a chance to use it!"
She watched Stalking Bear as he took another long pull at the bottle of mescal. If they don't get here soon, he'll be too drunk to do anything, she thought sullenly. But the liquor had been necessary to convince Stalking Bear to do what she'd planned.
"Yeah," he said drunkenly, "I'm going to get that bitch ... just the way I got the other one! I hope she fights me, cause I'm going to split her like a skinned antelope ... I'm going to fuck her to death! I won't even need no knife." He slobbered the liquor down his chin as he drank again. "I'm gonna fuck her till she don't even know what's happening."
"Quiet, you fool!" Summer Storm hissed. "They should be here any minute. If they hear you, everything's off."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said incoherently. "But you just hang onto the other one."
"Don't worry about that one. She won't go anywhere," The woman answered sarcastically. "Just drink now, don't say a word ... it should only be a few moments."
* * *
Everything had gone just as the Indian woman had promised. The guard who normally stood in front of their tent had gone for a few moments, long enough for them to slit the leather side of the teepee and crawl out. They could hear the Indians all celebrating at the Buffalo Dance and the noise of the singing and drums had drowned out any noises they had made. There had been only one bad moment, and that was when one of the dogs had let out a yowl when they'd disturbed him ... but then he'd let them pass, probably because the clothes they'd been given made them smell just like anyone else in the tribe.
Victoria had been a little frightened by the total darkness of the night, and then she'd realized that even that was in their favor. The place where they were supposed to meet the woman was almost a half a mile away and because they had to go so slowly to avoid detection it seemed to be taking forever to get there."
Even now though, as Victoria tried to quietly hurry along behind Amy, she felt misgivings.
Amy's explanation that had seemed so plausible yesterday morning had begun to ring a little false in her ear. The woman, Summer Storm, just didn't seem like a person who would make it that easy for them ... the map and the knife ... it just didn't seem right. But there was no time now for second thoughts, no way to turn back. And, no matter what happened, it would almost be worth it because of the miraculous change that had come over Amy. She was so vibrant and alive now, so happily expectant, that it made all the dangers worthwhile.
Black Elk? Again and again he'd crossed her mind ... and she'd searched her soul for the answer to the tumbling and confused feelings that swept through her head ... what was it? ... surely she wouldn't miss him ... not when she had a chance to be back among her own people. No, it was only that he had been the only person who'd ever treated her as though she was wanted. Even the Potters, as kind as they'd been to take her in when her parents had died, had always made her feel as though they'd done it only as what they called their 'Christian Duty' ... had made her feel a little like a stray mongrel to whom they'd reluctantly tossed a bone from the table ... Black Elk ... he'd been different
But then, he was only a savage. A primitive, un educated Indian.
No! It would be so much better to be back with her own people, in civilization, with store-bought clothes instead of doeskin, away from the rmells of a tribal camp. Again and again she reminded herself of the things she would have when the buffalo skinners returned her to the nearest white settlement, and it seemed to make her feel better. Yes, she knew she was right, Amy was right, and soon they would be free.. .
"Shhhhhh," Amy whispered, "Up there, those trees ... that's the place she meant, I think. God, I hope it is!"
Victoria strained her eyes for a moment, searching the darkness ahead, before she saw the clump of cottonwood that Amy motioned toward. Then, she thought she saw a movement, but as she stared-nothing moved again.
"That's it, I'm sure it is," Amy whispered. "Come on.
Victoria followed silently, a sudden overwhelming feeling of foreboding racing through her. She wanted to turn back. Everything was too dark, too evil!
Then she heard Amy's joyous gasp.
"There! There she is ... come on," and the young girl broke into a run.
Victoria saw the vague silhouetted form of the woman who waited there, saw her wave, but still felt the terrible urge to turn and run ... not with
Amy, but in the opposite direction. Instead, all she did was follow, not running as Amy was, but still in a hurry. It had to be alright, she told herself, and she felt her heart quickening with the anticipation of being free from the Apaches in a matter of only hours.
She was almost there, almost in the sheltering darkness of the clump of cottonwood trees, when she heard the strange, soft exhalation of breath like the sound of a balloon losing air. It came from where Amy entered the grove of trees, where Summer Storm had been standing.
She started to turn, to run back. Something had gone wrong! But Amy? What had happened to her? She stopped, wanting to get away as fast as she could, but unable to leave without finding out what had happened to Amy . ...
"Amy ... Aaaammmmyyyy!" She cried out, screaming at the top of her lungs. She gave no thought to the noise she was making, only aware of the fear that something had happened to her friend.
"Amy ... Amy!" she cried again. Ammm ... OhlJihhhhh!" her cry cut off deep in her throat by the sight of the figure that hurtled toward her. Summer Storm! The knife in her hand flashing in the sudden moonlight that had broken through the cloud cover.
"Shut up, you bitch!" the woman screamed at her as she raced across the few feet that separated them. "Shut up!"
Victoria tried to turn and run, stumbling as she lost her balance. She had to get back to Black Elk! But the Apache woman had anticipated her direction and had circle slightly to her side so that a direct route back to the camp was cut off.
"No! Noooo!" she screamed again and tried to get around the woman who'd now gotten behind her and cut off any direction except backward toward the cottonwoods.
The trees! They'd give her protection! She could hide in the trees.
Victoria ran frantically for the covers of trees, stumbling and falling, and with terrified sobs bursting from her mouth. She didn't know where she'd hide among them but anything was better than being out there on the level and open ground with the hate-filled Apache woman! It was only the unconscious law of survival that made her fingers reach for the knife in her belt for her mind had forgotten that she still carried it. As her fingers closed around the leather-wrapped handle she knew that she was not match for the Apache woman who sought her life, but still the hard coldness of the steel in her hand gave her some comfort. She moved as quietly as she could from tree to tree, using their slender trunks for concealment. It was almost like a jungle in there, not because of heavy undergrowth but because of the darkness that hung above her like a black velvet curtain. The clouds were rapidly clearing and the light from the moon washed across the level ground in front of the stand of cottonwood trees, but was only able in sparse shafts able to pierce the spaces between the trees. These thin ribbons of pale light gave the place an eerie and spectral camouflage composed of strangely shaped shadows and patches of deep black. It was in one of the patches that Victoria stumbled over the shapeless and lifeless body of her friend. If there had been time to think, she probably would have fainted, but Summer Storm's stalking figure was too close and dangerous for her mind to dwell on Amy.
Victoria backed into the concealing darkness and watched the Indian woman as she slowly looked for any movement. She still stood outside in the open light and Victoria could see her clearly, could see the cruel and satisfied smile that masked the woman's face. She seemed to be in no hurry to find her, and Victoria was amazed to hear what sounded like a chuckle come intermittently from her lips. The crouching girl gripped the shaft of her knife even tighter, wondering how to handle it when the time came.
Then, the Apache squaw seemed to have seen her because she moved directly toward the shadows that Victoria hoped had hidden her. She could do nothing but try to back further into them without making any sound. She ducked beneath the low-hanging branches of a smaller tree and then quietly backpedaled until she could go no farther. A strange odor assailed her nostrils as she backed into something ... something that moved and lifted her off her feet!
She struggled feebly and ineffectually in the vise-like grip that held her so powerless, her mind screaming out in terror ... and then she heard the man's rumbling, deep chuckle ... She knew from the laughter in her ear who it was that held her. Her mind was unable to cope with the horror of what had happened to her, and her limbs went suddenly limp as she fainted.
She awoke. How much later she didn't know, seconds ... centuries ... time mean nothing. There was nothing rational in her thinking, only the engulfing spasms of fear that shook her body. Slowly and reluctantly, her mind cleared and confirmed what she had prayed desperately was only a nightmare. She lay at the foot of a tree and her back ached from the bone-crushing strength of Stalking Bear's arms. She tried to open her eyes, and then realized that they were open, but unfocused and almost blind in the darkness. She could hear voices but couldn't distinguish anything because of the thunderous ringing in her ears. She tried to move, her hands and feet weren't bound-but she'd only traveled an inch when a huge moccasined foot crushed against her wrist. This time she heard and understood the words; though they were slurred and drunken:
"Move again, you white whore, and I'll cut your throat!" Stalking Bear's voice burnt into her brain like a needle of flame.
"Kill her! Kill her! before someone comes," Summer Storm shouted at the huge, staggering figure above the fallen girl.
"I will kill her," he answered drunkenly, "but only after I have done what I have promised."
He yanked the girl to her feet, and his hot liquored breath washed across her face making her nauseous and weak with fear. Then, in one clumsy but powerful jerk, he tore the soft doeskin dress from her trembling body.
She stood before him, completely naked and quivering, as he released her and stepped back to see his captive. Though it was almost black with darkness, a thin shaft of moonlight cut across her heaving breasts and traced a path that curved with the swell of her belly into the soft black triangle of pubic hair. The light hit her in such a way that her body seemed of golden stone. A goddess of such sensual proportions that the drunken Apache warrior felt his breath catch in his throat.
"Noooooo! Please!" she screamed. But he backhanded her so quickly that her cries barely broke the silence.
Suddenly, he reached out with a huge paw of a hand and grabbed her breast, twisting it cruelly until she fell to her knees. Then he moved his hand to her hair and held her there as he struggled clumsily with the cord that held up his leather leg-gins. The liquor had numbed his fingers and he cursed as he fought with the thin cord . ...
"You bitch! You'll suck me until I come out the other end," he shouted. "And then I'll.. . . "
"You'll what?" a voice said softly and abruptly.
"I'll ... I'll. . . " Stalking Bear's voice faded into a sickened whisper when he saw the man step into the small clearing.
He shoved Victoria away from him, barely hearing her cry of joy, and jumped to the side of a tree.
"Black Elk!" Summer Storm shouted at Stalking Bear's side. Her mind whirled in confusion at the sudden appearance of the Apache chief-but only for a moment as she turned and pointed an accusing finger at Stalking Bear:
"Kill him, Black Elk!" she shouted. "He was trying to rape the white girl! I got here just in time," she screamed. "Kill him, Black Elk, kill him!" Her voice rose hysterically, and she didn't notice Stalking Bear as he moved toward her, so intent was she in trying to make Black Elk believe her.
"I was trying to save her ... I was trying to save her, I swear I was! It was Stalking Bear! Please, Black ... Uhhhhhhhhggg!" Her frantic screams died as the enraged Indian thrust his knife into her back, and the red, crimson blood bubbled from her lips.
Black Elk watched the woman fall like a broken doll to the floor of leaves; there was no expression on his face. Then he moved suddenly forward, so quickly that he might have been a stalking panther, and placed himself between the drunken giant and Victoria.
"Now, I am going to kill you, Stalking Bear," he said softly, the words darting from his mouth with the menace of a striking rattlesnake.
"You are only good for killing woman, you fat, ugly pig," he taunted the huge man.
Stalking Bear seemed frozen for a moment and then he moved sideways until he was out onto the level ground at the fringe of the trees. He moved very quickly for so big a man, and for a moment it seemed that he might turn and run toward the village-then he stopped and faced Black Elk. He must have realized that his only chance of survival was to kill the man who could threaten him.
Black Elk walked out of the trees slowly, almost casually it seemed, and then he and the other Apache slowly began to circle each other-a circle which narrowed with each step.
They were both stripped to the waist-Stalking
Bear heavily muscular and Black Elk more slender, yet looking as powerful-and faster, much faster.
Victoria cowered beneath the protection of the cottonwood trees and watched fearfully and breathlessly as each man made feinting stabs at the other to throw his opponent off balance. She clutched at the torn doeskin dress, pulling it up and trying to stretch it across her full, heaving breasts.
She was almost sick with terror. It was like watching a battle of huge prehistoric beasts circling in a fight for survival. It was so savage, so primitive that it paralyzed her with horror ... her only movement the rushing, throbbing pounding Then, unconsciously, she'd begun edging backward Then, unconsciously, she'd begun edging backward on her hands and knees, unaware of her movements, only knowing that she had to get away. Her hand came down on something wet and soft and sticky. A shaft of light fell across the object and when she saw it her stomach immediately rose sickeningly into her throat, gagging her and making her violently ill.
She jumped up moments later and ran blindly from the small forest of cottonwoods ... trying frantically to wipe Amy's blood from her hand.. . .
She ran for what seemed like hours, her legs weak and rubbery and just barely obeying the frantic commands of her brain. Her dress fell from her shoulders, tripping her, and she lost it trying to rise. Completely naked, without any conscious thoughts except to escape the horrors of terrifying things that had occurred. She ran on and on. She thought she saw lights from fires ahead of her at one time but when she tried again to focus her eyes it was hopeless ... her mind had closed her senses to everything except the driving, overpowering urge to escape. So she ran and ran and ran ... until at last she had no more strength, and she collapsed unconscious in the cool prairie dust.
* * *
And it was there at dawn, only a few hundred yards from their camp, that the buffalo skinners found her.
CHAPTER 8
That horrible smell! God! Where was she! Probably, if it hadn't been for the reeking, noxious smell that drilled into the waking consciousness of her mind, Victoria might have slept longer, even with the rolling, jarring movements of the wagon. But no human being could have stayed any longer in the putrid, rotting smell of the hide wagon. She scrambled frantically across the half-flayed hides and just barely made it to the rear of the wagon before she became deathly sick again.
The sounds of her discomfort reached the driver and he looked back through the wagon and saw her hanging precariously on the tail. He slowed the wagon gradually to a stop and then hopped down and came around to give her a hand.
"No good, eh, missy, hides no good?"
Victoria shuddered against the trembling queasiness in her stomach and lifted her head to see a smiling Oriental face. The smells, the shaking wagon, and the sight of the grinning little man spun crazily through her mind as she tried to reconstruct what had happened to her-but it was no use. It was as if her mind had weakened to a point that memory no longer existed. Where was she? What had happened?
She stumbled from the wagon, almost dropping the blanket that she suddenly realized was her only article of clothing.
"I Loy, how are you?" The Chinaman said cheerfully. '
It was a second before she realized that he had said his name-she wondered if it was Loy or Roy-and then she smiled at him because he seemed so friendly.
"I ... I'm Victoria Stratton ... where ... where am I?" She blinked in the bright sunlight, and tried again to remember what had happened. A Chinaman and a wagon full of buffalo hides? Buffalo hides? ... the skinners! She had made it to the skinners! White men ... her people!
She was so suddenly deliriously happy that she grabbed the little man and kissed him on the cheek. She was safe ... Well, not quite, because with her sudden gesture she'd forgotten about the blanket and it fell to the ground at her feet. Blushing furiously, she stooped to grab it, but the little man was already holding it out to her.
"Thank you ... uh, Loy," she said with an embarrassed smile on her face.
"You welcome, missy ... you velly pletty." the little man said, and then added: "My name Loy, not Loy."
"What?" she said confused, and then she understood. He could not pronounce his r's. "Oh, Roy ... I'm sorry, Roy."
He smiled. "It okay, missy."
Another person smiled on the ridge above them, but for a different reason.
By Gawd, thet girl's sure got some body, the man thought to himself before he rode back over the ridge to join the other men in their skinning.
"Come on, Pete, get down here and help us with these buffler," one of the men shouted out as he neared them.
"I'm comin', I'm comin', " he answered when he got close to them and dismounted. "But you boys sure missed something." he said confidingly. He kidded with them for a moment before he told them what he'd seen. When he'd finished, one of them snorted-a big man with a beard:
"Boy, if you don't beat it all, Pete," he snickered. "As I recollect, you was the one that put her in the wagon this mornin' ... and she shore didn't have no blanket on then!" The others joined in his laughter as he added:
"You carry that damn pussy 'round all morning when she ain't got nuthin on, and now you're about to piss in yer pants cause she dropped her blanket!"
Pete was quiet for a moment, almost seeming to shuffle his feet bashfully-then he answered:
"Yeah, but I don' know ... there was somethin' different about this," he added softly. "Man, she shore is somethin purty to look at."
"Hey, yeah," another man looked up from his fletching knife, "where you reckon she came from ... no clothes or nuthin' ... and all scratched up."
There was silence as each man considered the question that had been in his mind all day since they'd found the girl, naked and unconscious, on a sartd dune.
"Hell," the bearded man said, "there ain't but one place it could be ... Apaches musta had her."
"Apaches ... there ain't no Injus round here," another retorted.
"Not that you've seed, you dummy," said the man with the beard, "but that don't mean they ain't here ... an' where else coulda that girl come from?"
Pretty soon, everyone got into the argument, each with a different conclusion, until one of them finally said:
"Yeah, I'd go along with ya', Josh, about her getting away from them 'Paches, if we'd seed any sign of buffler hunting ... but there ain't been none ... so there caint be no Injuns 'round."
"You rowdies ever hearda Black Elk?" The bearded man said scornfully," ya' ever hear of his band doin' any buffler huntin'? Naw, it ain't buffler they hunt ... now, tell me ... what does that rotten Injun look fer?"
They all looked around uneasily as they realized what he said was probably true, and if it was-it meant Apaches could hit at any moment.
"Well, we'll check with the girl, now she's up and 'round," one of them said defensively, and a little hopefully.
"Don't you sweat it none, anyhow," the man called Josh said, "that injun bastard is out lookin' for white women, an' nuthin else." He spit a brown stream of tobacco at the feet of the man who'd spoken. "He ain't gonna bother us ... he ain't got no reason!" he said with a definite air of finality.
The men turned back to their work and very little was said until they quit about sundown and-headed back for the campsite they picked for that evening. The Chinaman, Roy, would be there fixing dinner and with him would be that girl. And, there wasn't a man among them that wasn't thinking; about that girl.
* * *
Victoria sat a little uneasily in the circle of men around the campfire. Roy had just finished serving the last bunch of beans and buffalo steak and was cleaning up. She felt a little better when he was close to her, he seemed awfully nice but the other men, and particularly the huge bearded one and the man named Pete, frightened her. None of them had really spoken to her yet, except to say hello when they came in from the skinning, and she thought that was a little strange-but, more than that, there seemed to be an air of expectancy around the fire. And when she happened to glance up quickly, she'd find them staring at her. Finally, the silence was broken by the big man, the bearded one they called Josh:
"Hey, boys, break out a keg of that rotgut! I reckon we got a reason for celebratin'" He laughed at the man's hollered cheers. "Well, that's right ain't it, we got us a pretty visitor for the first time in more than a year. Aint' that the truth!"
"Yeah!" was chorused all around the fire, and one of the men got a barrel of whiskey out of the supply wagon and tapped it.
In a minute the man, Josh, came over to Victoria with a proffered glass of whiskey and she felt a barely repressed shudder race through her body as he put a heavy hand on her shoulder when he handed her the glass. He tapped his metal cup of whiskey:
Just got cups for us, ain't we, boys," he squeezed her shoulder, "we just been savin' that glass for a purty girl to drop in on us way out here!"
Victoria knew what was coming next, and she dreaded the moment when she would have to answer their questions.
"Oh, 'scuse me, Ma'am, forgot my manners ... I'm Josh Barker, and this here's my crew . ... "
He went on introducing all of his men to her, some of them even stood and bowed, but Victoria's mind spun with the mention of his own name ... Josh Barker ... isn't that the one that Black Elk ... it had to be! There couldn't be two buffalo skinners with the same name!
"Wh ... What? Oh, I'm sorry ... I was just thinking," she said as she realized that all the men had been waiting for her to introduce herself. "I'm Victoria Stratum ... and I ... I want to thank you-for taking care of me." A sudden vision came to her mind of the way all of them had found her that morning, completely nude, and she felt the fiery blush come to her cheeks. At least now she was dressed. Fortunately, Roy; the Chinaman was exactly her size and trousers and a fancily embroidered silk shirt that he must have been saving for a special occasion had fit her perfectly. Perhaps too well, she thought now, from the stares of the men.
The shiny green silk top was stretched tightly across her breasts and, without a bra, her nipples stood out distinctly.
Then the name Josh Barker burst into her thoughts again. She had to warn them that Black Eagle had been searching for them for eight years, and if he knew they were anywhere near him he'd go berserk with vengeance. Then, she suddenly realized that there was every possibility that the Apache chief was dead. If Stalking Bear had won the fight ... her eyes filled with tears and she prayed that Black Elk was alright.
"Hey, miss, what's the matter? Ain't no need for a pretty thing like you to cry." She heard Josh Barker's voice once again interrupting her thoughs. Then she almost laughed when she thought of their reaction if she told them the real reason she had been crying.
Her tears quieted them for a moment, and the questions didn't come but were delayed while they all guzzled the rotgut whiskey as fast as they could. She watched them, getting drunker and drunker-literally by the minute-and began to wish that she could return to the hide wagon, even if it meant that putrid, rotting odor.
"You been with the 'paches, ain't ya?" The brutal question came suddenly in a loud voice from Barker. His words betrayed the amount of liquor he'd drunk because they were slurred and fuzzy.
"What ... what's that, I didn't hear you," she said, trying to give herself time to think.
"I said," he repeated, even louder, "YOU BEEN WITH THE APACHES, AIN"T YOU?"
"Yes," she said softly, "but, not for long," she added lamely. "I ... it was only a little over a week." Tears filled her eyes as she continued:
"It wasn't my fault, they abducted us and killed my people."
"Us? Who's us?" The man named Pete called out.
"Uh, Amy Potter and me ... she's dead ... they killed her last night when we escaped." Her throat choked up with the memory, and she felt that she couldn't speak.
"Please ... please, I don't want to talk about it I" she cried out.
Josh Barker turned to the other men around the fire and said triumphantly:
"See, I told you there was Apaches here." Then he turned back to Victoria:
"Howdya like the 'paches, Vicky ... didn't treat you too well, I don't reckon, did they?" There was a wicked, leering tone in his voice when he spoke to her now ... and that wasn't all-when she looked around the fire now the men all stared openly at her.
"Yessir, they sure musta' roughed you up a little. Me an' the boys know all about what they do to white women ... those rotten, fucking pigs!"
"How about you!" Victoria screamed before she knew the words had come from her mouth.
"What do you mean, How about me' ... what have I got to do with it?" He laughed and took another swig from his tin cup before he refilled it.
"Nothing," I didn't mean anything," Victoria answered, "I must have been thinking of something else."
"Listen, you whore ... you fucking injun whore!" he shouted at her. "You musta meant something."
Even the other men were surprised by his language in front of her, but her feeling was one only of anger.
"Because you're the one that started everything ... you and your skinners!" she shouted. "If it hadn't have been for you, none of this would ever have happened to anyone, not even to me."
"Bullshit!" he shouted. "You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Yes, I do, because Black Elk told me himself," she cried defensively. She turned to the men around the fire:
"Eight years ago, near here, Josh Barker and some of his men, you too, Pete, raped an Indian girl named Soft Bain. She was engaged to Black Elk, the son of the chief, and she was the daughter of the Apache medicine man." She paused, and there was complete silence around the fire. "Soft
Rain became pregnant and she was banished from the tribe, and she died only a few years later. "Ever since he became chief, Black Elk has been looking for you, Josh Barker, and he has sworn to his people that he will kill you personally!"
Barker cleared his throat huskily, and then he laughed:
"Well, I'll be damned! I remember that, don't you 'member that one, Pete ... she sure was a fine, little piece of red ass ... purty too!"
"Go ahead and laugh, Barker," Victoria screamed, the hatred evident in her voice, "because of you, hundreds of women have been raped and killed!"
Murmurs of agreement from some of the men around the five were heard, infuriating Barker.
"Hey, goddam it! Are you gonna' listen to this white Apache whore?"
"You just got through saying youself that it's true, Josh," one of the men said.
"I did not, I just said it was true about some injun girl ... hell, we all had a piece of squaw ass, ain't we!" He shook his fist at Victoria.
"The rest of it ain't true, you just made it up ... where could you a heard a story like that?"
No one spoke as they waited for her answer.
"From Black Elk! And I'll tell you something else, Josh Barker, you're liable to near it from him yourself soon." She shouted to he rest of the men.
"All of you had better get away from this man before the night is over, or you won't be alive in the morning."
She pointed in the direction where they'd found her that morning.
"Over there, less than two miles away, is Black Elk's camp and as soon as he hears there's a skinning crew nearby, he's going to check to see if it's Josh Barker's. And, when he finds out that it is, he's going to massacre everyone here. I swear it's true."
There was a sudden rush of whispering around the campfire, and the men, over forty of them, began to break up into little groups. Barker's face was livid with rage as he tried to convince them that the girl had been lying, but apparently quite a few of them believed her story.
There was a lot of shouting now, and a couple of fights broke out. Victoria took advantage of the confusion and huried back to the hide wagon, any place to get away from Barker ... but she was stopped by Roy who led her to the cook wagon.
"You in trouble now, missy ... missa Barker a very bad man when you do something against him."
"You have to get away too, Boy, my story is true ... and I just couldn't take the chance of letting all those men die for something that Josh Barker did. At least, she thought reflectively, I've warned them. What they do now is their own business.
She and Roy spent the next several hours in the wagon without any lights from the candles. She didn't know what she should do, she couldn't stay here with Barker ... and yet, if she went back to the Apaches and Stalking Bear had won.. . .
She kept trying to convince Roy that he should leave right away, but the little Chinaman said he would not leave without her. They had finally decided that it was probable that some of the men at least would heed her warning and be leaving and would let them go along.
It kept getting louder and louder by the camp-fire and she knew that the men had been arguing whether or not to leave their stake of hides with Barker and believe her story, or whether to stay. And she knew that the keg of rotgut whiskey would help to inflame their tempers.
As the noise raised in pitch during the next few hours and the fights increased, she began to get very frightened and knew that even the little Chinaman had gotten very disturbed by the mob atmosphere that seemed to have taken over the camp.
I have nowhere to go or turn, she thought, unless someone who's leaving will take us along. If I stay here, I have to face Barker, and if I leave I may have to face Stalking Bear.
It was about midnight when Barker and two other men came after her. He was drunk and vicious, his face streaked with anger and bruises from fights he must have gotten into.
"Take her to the hide wagon and tie her up," he shouted to the two men, and as they dragged her past him, he lashed out with the back of his hand and hit her viciously across the face, almost knocking her unconscious. As they pulled her away she heard him shouting for Roy. He must have gotten away when they grabbed me, she thought.
Seconds later, she was bound so tightly inside the smelly hide wagon that she could barely move or breath.
Violently ill from the hides and the pain, she lost consciousness for several hours until she was slapped awake by the huge bearded man.. .
CHAPTER 9
"Get up, you bitch! Now you're going to pay a little for what you've done!" Barker snarled. "More than half my men gone just because of some wild story of yours. You didn't really think I'd let you run off with those cowards did you?"
He yanked her from the stiff buffalo skins in the wagon and pulled her to her feet again outside. He saw that she was still wearing Roy's clothes and that made him even madder:
"That little Chinee bastard has disappeared, but I'll find him ... I'll shove his pigtail up his ass! And, as for you, I got plans for you right now."
He grabbed her arms ruthlessly and swung her around to face him, and then he slammed his large thick rubbery lips on hers, his beard scraping and scratching her face. It was savage and brutal and the terrified girl slipped away with the strength of a sudden burst of fear. He slapped her then, his face hard and vicious. The blow landed across her face with terrific force, but the still struggling girl even then slipped from his grasp and was almost away from him before he caught her. Barker hit her again as Pete and the other man watched gleefully from the distance.
"You talked about rape, you Apache-lovin' bitch! I'll show you what rape is!" He snarled, half-crazed with rage and whiskey.
Her body was almost limp in his arms and, with obscene curses pouring from his mouth, began brutally tearing at her clothes. The half-insensible girl didn't stand a chance as he ripped the green silk blouse from her shoulders. Her thrusting, trembling breasts fell free from the tight restrictive binding and quivered nakedly in the air. Then he pushed her to her knees again, pushing her over onto her back. She tried to rise but he knocked her back to the ground again, hooking his fingers into the top of the tight fitting trousers and ripping them down off her wildly thrashing ankles to the dirt. She was completely naked and helpless now before the brutal attack, and lay at his feet just barely conscious.
Then, with a savage jerk of her shoulder he rolled her over onto her back and forced her legs painfully apart. He kneeled up for a moment between her trembling thighs, dropping his pants to his knees with a quick movement of his hand, and then he fell forward-crushing her weakly flailing body to the dirt with an animal-like grunt.
He wasted no time with preliminaries, but searched roughly with the fingers of one hand for the opening of her vagina.. . .
"You're going to remember this for a long time, you whore-cunt!" he shouted huskily. "Nothing for you-this is all for me," and his finger found the quivering, barely moistened opening of her cunt.
Then he took his thick, swollen penis in his hand and guided it toward the small, clasping portal ... slowly, until the hot, reddened head nestled against the visibly palpitating lips for what seemed an eternity, and then he jerked forward brutally to disappear between the soft, fleshy, down-covered folds with a long, slithering rush of lust that brought an agonized scream from the spread-eagled girl.
"Aaaaaaaaaaggghhhhh!"
The enraged, drunken man remained motionless, buried in the girl's helpless, not moistness for a few torturous seconds and then with a deep throated groan born of animal lust he began to fuck her savagely with long hard strokes that carried the full monstrous length of his prick. The sobbing and whimpering girl writhed painfully beneath the driving force of the man's pounding body as he reached down her legs under her knees and pulled up viciously, bending her thighs all the way back to her shoulders to give him greater access to the open defensive wetness of her cunt.
The helplessly impaled girl choked and spluttered beneath him in agony and the humiliation of being thrown to the ground and raped so ruthlessly in front of the other men.
"Oh, stop ... PLEASE STOP! ... Ahhhhhrrrgggghhhhh!" she moaned on and on as the heavy, hairy body between her legs began to fuck into her with greater and greater desperation.
But her pleas and shouts were suddenly cut brutally short as Barker crushed his thick mouth once again onto hers, drowning out with a wet, slobbering finality the further screams building in her throat. He dug his fingers cruelly and hard into the sensitive softness of her breasts and bent her even farther backward.. .
She was nearly double now, with her knees scraping into the dirt behind her over her shoulder. His long thick, turgid cock pistoned harder and harder into the ever expanding softness of her cunt and the harsh slap of his balls against her straining upturned buttocks was clearly audible.
The drunken, savage man began to go wild now with passion and sadistic delight at the same time. He twisted and turned the body beneath him like a limp rag doll as he fucked into her with ever increasing speed and vigor, smashing the softness of her naked and open body down hard into the rising dust. His hands pinched and pulled at her as she squirmed to escape the pain. His face above her was contorted into a wild mask of sadistic lust as his cock bore into her like a drill, expanding and growing to horrifying proportions before the terrified eyes of the cringing girl peering up between his legs at the rigid column of wet, battering flesh.
"Oh no! OHHHHhhhh ... NOoooo! My God! NO!" she screamed out again and again as the tiny folds of pink flesh in her ravaged vagina withdrew and then sank wetly back inside with each brutal thrust.
And then, the dawn air was filled with jerking groans and cries of animal lust that suddenly began erupting from deep in Barker's throat ... and his rigid pole of flesh skewering madly into the helpless girl beneath him began throbbing out its lewd, hot liquid deep inside her quivering cunt.
The obscene white liquid of his pent up emotion and lust bubbled up and overflowed around his tightly sheathed cock and down the widespread crevice of Victoria's wide-held buttocks.
Her legs kicked out helplessly in the air on either side of him and then fell limply to the floor. It was over, and there was no more reason to resist. It had been done, and nothing could take it back
... and nothing could erase Barker's soft chuckling as he slowly withdrew.. . .
In a moment, when he was able to speak and move, he got to his feet and pulled on his trousers, after first wiping himself dry on the green, silken shirt. Then he laughed aloud.
"You're not too bad for an Apache-lover," then he added: "though I like the real thing better, like that little girl of Black Elk's!
Then, he turned to Pete who had moved up to stand beside him ... a leering smile on his face.
"Get her, Pete ... Shorty," He turned to the other man, "You're after Pete ... and you guys make it fast! We got a lot of work to do before the sun spoils those skins."
And then he strutted away.
Victoria stared disbelievingly at the man who looked lustfully down at her spread-eagled body, and tried to bring her semen-stained thighs together but she had no control over her battered muscles ... she couldn't believe that it would be happening again! Not again, Oh God, her mind cried out, her lips silently pleading . ...
"Hey Shorty, look! I think she's trying to tell me that she loves me," he said laughing, as he unbuckled the belt to his pants.
But his laughter died suddenly, and from the deep core of his throat, a shrill, almost feminine scream built and exploded into a piercing shriek:
"AAAAArnrgggggggaaaaaahhhhHHHH!" Victoria stared uncomprehendingly at the grotesque mask that became his face, and then as he began to crumple like soft clay, she saw the arrow that had driven its shaft between his unbuckling fingers and deep into his belly.. . .
The other man, Shorty, turned to run but made it no more than a couple of steps' when he appeared to have become a target for more than a dozen feathered shafts. They hit him so quickly and simultaneously that not even a groan escaped his lips.
Victoria struggled weakly to her feet and wrapped a buffalo robe that Pete had been carrying around her pained nakedness.
She looked around. There was no one. She stared blankly again at the skewered form at her feet, and then as she lifted her eyes she saw the four Apaches step out from behind the hide wagon. They smiled at her, and one raised his hand in greeting-a strange little man in a coolie cap-and then they turned to the point of the rise of the hill.
Black Elk! Almost a hundred mounted Apaches! Her heart cried out in joy ... she started to run forward ... and stopped.
Black Elk or Stalking Bear! ... oh, please, please dear God! her mind cried out. And then she saw the tall chieftain who led his men down the rise, and ran toward him, her heart somewhere in her throat and bursting with happiness.
He jumped lightly from his spotted pony and waited proudly beside it until she ran into his arms.
