What is it that so fascinates the Western white woman when she is confronted by a savage? Is it raw virility-the sheer sexual power? Or could it be the vicarious possibility of being taken-brutally-and raped... Dr. L.T. Woodward states, in Unusual Sex Practices: "Sadistic people are not necessarily cruel people... As a matter of fact, many people who are seriously sadistic... are very mild people who are shocked by even the slightest cruelty in the ordinary course of human affairs." And so it was with the Indians... but what about Dorothy? She enjoys being degraded, staked out for the use of the tribe-women included-and if one looks carefully, he can see a hint of a smile on those hungry, wet lips...
CHAPTER ONE
It was the second week of June in the year 1876, the week the Republican National Convention was meeting at Cincinnati, where it would nominate Rutherford B. Hayes of Ohio to replace President U.S. Grant. It was yet a month away from the massacre of George Armstrong Custer and his entire force at the Little Big Horn River in Montana, and it was also a month after the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, at which the newfangled typewriter and telephone had been introduced to the public...
It was a scorching Saturday afternoon in Laredo, Texas, a stone's throw from the Mexican border. And in the New Frontier Hotel, a resplendent two-story, whitewashed frame building which boasted two bathrooms to each of its floors, it was like a furnace.
Brian Moss had flung his dusty carpetbag into the narrow closet, tossed his bowler hat onto the iron-frame bed with a grimace of disgust at the flyspecked cover, and then, sprawling in an overstuffed armchair, tugged off his boots. This done, he stripped down to his drawers, revealing a rangy lean body, matted with thick black hair at chest and crotch, an old knife-wound scar along the ribcage of his left side and a purplish bullet nick, some few years older, just below his right armpit. He yawned and stretched luxuriously, then fumbled in his coat lapel pocket for a fresh cheroot, struck a lucifer on the huge porcelain pitcher standing on a table against the wall, and lit it. Having ridden three and a half days by stagecoach from San Antonio, he wanted a bath badly. The obsequious clerk at the desk, impressed by the dollar the black-haired, thirty-one-year-old adventurer had casually flipped him, had informed him that his room adjoined the bath and that if he got there first, possession was nine points of the law.
He took a few puffs at the cheroot, then flung it into the spittoon. It was just about as dry as the dust along this Texas trail. A bath, a quick nap, and then a steak and some good whiskey, and he'd feel more like a human being.
The zinc finish of the little washbowl at the side of the bed was cracked, just like the plaster directly above him on the ceiling; but the wooden rack above it offered the bounty of what appeared to be a clean Turkish towel, and there was a jagged half-cake of soap as well.
He strode across the room, tried the handle of the narrow door, and stepped in. Then his eyes widened, and he put a finger to his lips. In the wood-encased tin tub, naked as the day she was born, her round pretty face crimson and her blue eyes exorbitantly wide with shocked surprise, was Mrs. Elsie Thurston, the widow whom he had sat next to when he'd got on the stagecoach at San Antonio last Wednesday morning.
"You-oh my gracious-get out of here, please, Mr. Moss!" she wailed as she clenched her knees together, crooked her arm over ripe, closely spaced cantaloupe titties, and used her other hand to hide the dark-brown tendrils of her bush.
During the jostling ride over the trail, the stagecoach had lurched violently just about every other minute, and Brian Moss had found Mrs. Elsie Thurston's buxom body an admirable buffer. Now, his eyes lazily moving to the chair near the tub he observed the articles she had shed; black bombazine dress with puffed sleeves and neck, bustle, steel-braced corset, two lavender petticoats with ribbons at the hems, a pair of dark-gray lisle stockings, a pair of high-buttoned shoes as dusty as his own boots, a camisole, and finally her drawers, far more coquettish than his own and beribboned around the waistband and the legs.
"Oh please! I'm going to die of shame if you don't leave this instant, Mr. Moss! I thought you were a gentleman, Mr. Moss!" Mrs. Thurston wailed.
Until this moment, he had known only that she was the widowed chaperone of lovely honey-haired Dorothy Maxton, and that she and her prick-teasing charge had come all the way from Philadelphia here to Laredo to be reunited with the girl's officer-fiance, an event to be legalized some two weeks hence. But now, the sight of Elsie Thurston in the buff, huddling herself and bending forward to hide all her private parts, almost made him forget the greater beauty and youth of her comely charge.
Elsie Thurston had a soft, round neck, and her dark brown hair was piled in an elaborate pompadour at the back of her head, which gave her a regal appearance. Her skin was as pink as a baby's, and before she had covered up her titties, he had observed that the aureole were wide and of a brownish-coral hue, in whose centers there flourished voluptuously developed, crinkly pink buds. Her bellybutton was wide and shallow, a satiny resting-place for his prickhead, he knew. She had a black beauty-spot high on her left cheekbone, her nose was Grecian with a hint of snub, the nostrils very widely flaring-a sigh which, Brian Moss had learned over the years, invariably denoted a hot squirming pussy. The thought came to him here and now to prove the veracity of that theory.
"Why, Mrs. Thurston," he drawled, "here I was looking forward to my first bath in a week, and damned if you didn't beat me to it. I don't know how you managed it. You were gadding about downstairs in the lobby with that sweet Miss Maxton. And now here you are, a step ahead of me. We can't have that, you know."
Elsie Thurston's face turned redder than ever, if it were possible; her ripe titties were mashed against her knees as she huddled and tried to diminish herself.
"Ohhh! I'm going to faint if you don't get out this minute!" her voice was choked and trembling.
"Somehow I don't think you will. Besides, if you do, I've a sovereign remedy, Mrs. Thurston. You know, there isn't going to be much hot water left in an hour or so, so why don't you and I share the same tub."
"Ohhhh! Get out of here! Oh, this is dreadful!" the buxom widow wailed.
Brian Moss abruptly decided. Unbuttoning his drawers, he shoved them down, then kicked them into a corner of the narrow little bathroom. His lean, turgid prick bobbed menacingly as he took a step toward the tub with its aghast occupant. The glans was almost oblong, separated from the dark-veined shaft by a wide groove, and the urethral lips were already puckering with the urge to inject Mrs. Elsie Thurston's cunt with an overburdened load of spunk.
"If you'll scrunch over, Mrs. Thurston, I believe we can both manage. I'll even soap your back for you," he amiably proffered.
Not even Rembrandt could have done full justice in depicting the look of horrified and mortified incredulity which congealed the widow's lovely face. Her mouth gaped, but no words emerged, only a helpless little gurgling deep in her throat. Coolly, Brian Moss reached down and seized her wrists and dragged her up to her feet. Then she found voice to shriek, "Oh God, help me, someone! He-" He chuckled. Then, his fingers digging into her mossy armpits, he silenced her with a searing, prolonged kiss on her ripe but rather small mouth. Frantically, she clenched her fists and beat against him, twisting in his grasp, and he felt her wet belly and titties rub against his lean body.
"Whoa now, Elsie girl," he chuckled thickly, as he took a deep breath and lifted her out of the tub by her armpits, set her down on the floor to face him, still maintaining his masterful grip of her. "If you want to bite and scratch and fight while you're being hoorawed, it's just fine with me, only there's more room over on the bed. Let's say we try it out. Then we can both wash up after we've had the proper introduction I've been hoping we'd come to."
"You-you must be insane-you let me go this minute-I'll have you arrested by the marshall-I'll-" she wailed, and once again he silenced her with his mouth, then agilely stooped, circled her back with his left arm and caught her under the lower thighs with his right, hoisted her in the air, strode over to the bed and flung her down upon her back. His prick bobbed violently, the turgid veins darker than ever along the straining shaft. Her limpid blue eyes fixed on that ominous scepter with consternation. Then swiftly she tried to roll over and to clamp both hands this time against her bushy cunt. But the moment of staring at that weapon which he intended to use on her was her undoing. Brian Moss had already flung himself upon the bed, gripped her by the shoulders and forced her prone, his knee prying apart her flinching, pink satiny thighs. Then he fell upon her, his prickhead probing for the treasure beneath the thick dark brown fleece of her mound. The lips were wet from the bath-perhaps from something more, but at the moment he couldn't tell and it didn't matter. He thrust forcibly, felt himself absorbed inside the antechamber of her lovesheath, and then, again digging his fingers into her armpits, stretched himself luxuriously over her and thrust to the balls. "Christ, but you're tight, Elsie," he hoarsely muttered. "It must have been a long time-no you don't!" For, frantic in her defeat, the young dark-haired widow had tried to twist herself to one side, while at the same time pummeling him with her fists, tears flowing down her cheeks. He seized her wrists and spread them out on each side of her in a cross as he stared mockingly down into her contorted, scarlet face.
"How long has it been since you've had a cock where I've got it now, Elsie?" he taunted. She twisted her face to one side, closing her eyes, her magnificent titties rising and falling with violent turbulence. "You'll pay for this-oh, you're vile-you're worse than one of those horrible redskins-let me go-I'm a decent woman-you've got no right-oh, my God, take it out of me!"
"Now you know you don't want me to do that, Elsie." Slyly he drew himself out just a little, then thrust home again to the hilt. He was rewarded by Elsie Thurston's sobbing groan, as her face turned to the other side of the bed, but this time her eyes were staring as if cognizant that the destiny of her tight warm cunt had already been decided against her. "Come on, you might as well relax and enjoy it, because you're going to get it any which way. You've got a wonderfully tight snatch, Elsie, and it's been neglected. For how long? When was the last time the late Mr. Thurston-peace to his memory and no offense meant-shagged you? "
"Oh please, don't talk like that! It's so dirty and so d-d-degrading! Horace was a good, decent man-he would have killed you for doing this to me-I'm not one of those t-tavern girls-oh please let me go and-and I won't say a word about this, I promise I won't!"
Now her eyes besought him as she stared up at his lean, rakishly handsome face with sardonically smiling thin lips, hawklike, thin nose and glinting, steely blue eyes.
"Five years, is it? I thought as much. Your box is as tight as a virgin's, Elsie, and you know yourself a bath wouldn't have loosened you up the way a good shagging is going to do. Now just you clamp those lovely arms and legs around me and let's go for a nice ride. It'll be better than what we got on the stagecoach, I promise you that," he grinned. Then again he drew himself back almost to the brink of her cunthole, anticipating her desperate maneuver to jerk to one side and thus jerk his cock from its purloined confines. With a salacious little laugh, he dug himself back to the balls and flattened his body again over hers, tasting the sweet friction of her surging nipples which mashed against his panting, hairy chest, feeling her plump, warm, satiny thighs strain and shudder as he mastered and pried them open for the fuck.
"You know what I think, Elsie?" he savoringly pursued, staring deep into her tear-filled, dilated eyes. "I think that even when Horace was in bed with you-again no offense meant-he really never gave that tight box of yours what it really needed all along. Let's see if I can't improve on his past performance, shall we?" With this, he closed his eyes, pillowed his head on her heaving titties, and began to draw in and out with deliberate slow raspings, along the quaking volutes of her cunt.
Elsie Thurston tilted back her head, staring at the ceiling, as if she were entreating Providence to intercede for her. Her dainty bare toes curled and twisted, gouging the air, and her fingernails dug into her perspiring palms.
Ignoring all these reactions, Brian Moss adroitly worked her as a musician plays an instrument whose potential he has long since mastered. After these deliberate ins-and-outs, he halted himself a moment, deep within her, and then began a quick and jerky poking, while at the same time, releasing her left wrist, he slipped his right hand under her spaciously plump bottomcheeks and gouged with his forefinger until he found the secret crevice of her asshole.
The instant the pad of his finger touched that sensitive and still virgin goosehole, Elsie Thurston's head rose from the rumpled pillow, her eyes bulging with disbelief. Then her mouth gaped, "Oh, don't, that's too horrible to do to a decent woman-stop it-Mr. Moss, I'm going to scream for help, I warn you, I-mmnfffgghhhh!!!"
For the third time he had silenced her with his mouth, and even as she spluttered under him, Brian Moss inexorably gouged in his finger till it was buried in her asshole to the hilt and then began to wiggle it back and forth as he timed his thrusts simultaneously to concur with this manual rhythm in her other love-temple.
Elsie Thurston's eyes rolled in their sockets, glassy and humid with tears. Her nostrils flared and shrank. Now her bare heels began to scuff the flyspecked counterpane, and then suddenly with a choking moan, her free arm feverishly clutched round his sinewy back and her naked calves clamped over his hairy thighs as she surrendered herself.
"Now that's a lot friendlier, I'd say, Elsie," he thickly complimented her. Then his mouth went back to cover hers, his tongue this time delving between her parted, trembling lips. He released her other wrist so he could use his left hand to knead her panting titties. His right forefinger continued to prod her from the rims on to the deepest recesses of her quaking asshole, while his prick continued its vehement, deep digs, till it seemed to her that she could almost feel the tip of his bony, hot, hard ramrod throbbing in her cervix.
"Ahhh-mmmfff-oohh-mm mm-aahhhh!" her moaning words were unintelligible with his lips covering hers and his tongue wriggling about her gums and chattering teeth. But he didn't need words to feel how her body was hungrily responding, how the walls of her vagina were convulsively tightening to receive his prick each time it thrust along those narrow volutes of soft, moist, pink loveflesh, and how the narrower trough of her asshole spasmodically nipped and clipped his delving forefinger.
By now her calves had shifted over his bottom as she arched up her pelvic basin and even began to thrust back in answer to his own accelerating digs. Now her moans were of a higher pitch, still unintelligible, but in no way protesting. Her titties rushed up wildly to flatten their turgid buds against his straining chest. Both her arms now enfolded him, mashing him down upon her, and her wet body was sleek and hot and the smell of the secret woman-effluvia came deliciously to his twitching nostrils.
Now he slackened the cadence of both finger and prick, watching her contorted face with attentive eyes, as he lifted himself slightly above her to give a deeper angle of incidence to his blading digs. Thus left free to speak, Elsie Thurston did not cry out for help this time. Instead, her face twisting to one side, her eyes glassy and unseeing she whispered, "Oh, do it-oh, Mr. Moss, hurry-I'm dying-oh my God, oh my poor Horace, I can't help being untrue to you, my poor darling-oh, this awful man has just killed me, forcing me the way he has-ohohoh-aahh-oh, Mr. Moss, now, oh please, for God's sake, now-give it to me good-mmmm!!!!"
She jerked and bucked under him now, twisting and shifting her legs and arms as well as her entire body while he completed her attunement with rapid ins and outs as he felt his own gism bubbling up beyond restraint And thrusting his finger to the hilt inside her asshole as at the same time he gouged her to his balls in his final dominating thrust, Brian Moss felt himself shaken by a Herculean spasm as he poured himself forth into Elsie Thurston's quaking, churning, yearning womb.
CHAPTER TWO
Brian Moss left Elsie Thurston sprawled in happy lassitude on the bed and with hardly a glance behind him at her ripe pink nakedness, got into the tub he had made her quit. There, with a sigh of comfort, he soaped his wiry, hairy body, and rinsed, till he had scoured away the grime and dust of the long stagecoach ride. Emerging, he toweled himself with gusto, put his drawers back on, and sauntered back to his room. By now Elsie had recovered from the torpor, which this, her first really vigorous fucking in years had induced, and sat up with a startled cry, pressing one hand over her mound and again trying to conceal the opulent globes of her titties with a huddling arm.
"Oh my goodness!" she choked, "please-please don't look, Mr. Moss! Oh my, I'm so dreadfully ashamed-what must you think of me now? Oh dear, oh please don't look, please don't!" Her voice rose to an anguished squeal as he stood, hands on hips, legs astraddle, a lewd smile on his lean face.
"What do I think of you, Elsie girl?" he chuckled. "You're a caution, you really are. Frankly, if you want to know, this is probably the first time in five years you've behaved like an honest-to-God female. Oh, by the way, I used up your bath water. Just now let the stopper out. Figured you wouldn't want to dip that nice pink ass of yours in scummy water. Besides, that smell of gism and girl-spunk on you now ought to stay on a mite longer, just to remind you not to let five years go by again without some regular exercise on a mattress."
"Oh don't! Don't talk like that, it's so-so-so indecent!" she gasped, turning scarlet as she tried to huddle back and conceal her ripe-fleshed charms from his scrutiny.
"Indecent is it? Why, Elsie girl, it's more indecent to shroud yourself in that heavy bustle and all those petticoats when you're cooped up in a stagecoach like a sardine in a can. Curves like yours weren't made to be cinched in till you faint for want of breath, no, nor get in the way when you've got to step out and squat down with no privy around for miles. That's what I call indecent, Elsie girl."
"But won't you please turn your back or close your eyes or something so I can go back to my room and dress? If Dorothy should come to my room and knock now, I'd die of shame!" the buxom, dark-haired widow protested tearfully.
"Let her knock. She'll think you've gone for a walk. Anyhow, she's probably thinking about that soldierboy of hers she's come all the way from Philadelphia to see, don't you figure? Say, that reminds me, what did you say his name was, back there on the stagecoach? Seems like I heard you an her talking about her coming out to get hitched in a couple of weeks. That right? "
"You-you didn't have any right to eavesdrop!" she flashed, warily sliding her legs toward the edge of the bed. Her hand clamped all the more tightly against her cunt, her other arm hugged and flattened her heaving titties.
"Hell, woman, quit talking all the time like you was brung up on Godey's Lady Book," he chuckled. "Eight passengers, four abreast, opposite one another in a bumpy stagecoach, and you expect me not to hear what you're saying? But don't you fret any, Elsie, I'll tell you a little secret. I'm real glad it was you bumping me with that big sweet ass of yours every couple of minutes instead of that prissy little Philadelphia girl you're bringing out here to the wilderness. That's what she called it, all right, the wilderness. Seems she said it was just her devotion to her vows that'd make her leave her nice home and kinfolks back East and traipse all the way out here to sand and sagebrush and no privies. Yes sirree, Elsie girl, I'm mighty glad I drew you as my ass-rubbing-partner on that ride-because now look how friendly we've got all of a sudden."
"Oh! Ohhh! I-I-I never-oh my goodness, I want to go back to my room, do you hear me?"
"Sure. But first I want to hear the name of this soldierboy hero who's worth a long trip like that to that sweet sheltered child."
"She's not a child, Mr. Moss, and I'll thank you to be more respectful! She's all of twenty-two, she is, and she and Lieutenant Jabez Townsend both come from Philadelphia, I'll have you know! Why, his father's out of West Point and his great grandfather was in the Legislature that drew up the Declaration of Independence. Not that it's any of your business, but she and Lieutenant Townsend knew each other back when they were children and they said their vows then. And now I'm going. And if you're a gentleman, Mr. Moss, you won't dare look at me again or say a word to me, especially in Dorothy's presence!" Her face screwed up as if she were about to cry, as she added forlornly, "And then you had to go and use up all the water-oh, you're just so mean-you-no-you stay back-you let me go-oh my God, not again-I-I tell you I'll scream-mmfff!"
His smile broadening, Brian Moss had slowly moved over to the other side of the bed to intercept her furtive sidling out of the room. He caught her by the elbows and flung her back down on the bed, silencing her outcry with the palm of one hand while with the other he swiftly unbuttoned his drawers. His prick, as stalwart as before, thrust out in rampant eagerness to renew and this time more fully savor their unexpected intimacies.
Elsie Thurston threshed about on the bed, beating at him with her fists as he chuckled deep in his throat, wedging himself between her plump, pink-sheened thighs and forcing his cockhead against the still moist and matted tendrils of her bush. She arched like a bow, tried to twist and buck and wriggle to escape and it amused him to keep her in suspense by following her easily without attempting final penetration. Then, as in her desperation she struck him a heavy blow on the back of the head with her fist, he drew back his hand and slapped her cheek so hard that it rocked her head back and forth on the rumpled pillow. "That'll be about enough of that, Elsie," he told her in a low tone. "I don't mind a little clawing and even biting, but if you start to play rough, I'm your man, all right. So now you're going to get a real shagging to teach you who's boss. Get ready for it!"
"No-help-I don't-mmmfffhhhh!!" This time, his mouth came down so hard on hers that their teeth clashed, as with a savage dig, Moss forced his turgid prick home to the roots. Elsie Thurston's body stiffened, one dimpled knee rose up, and spasmodically, flung far to his right, her fingernails dug into his shoulders and tried to lift him up from her flattened, panting titties. Her eyes rolled, glazed and humid. His left hand clenched against the side of one of her breasts, the other hand thrust under her squirming, contracting bottom and cupping one opulent hemisphere, he resumed where he had left off. Since the first fierce welling-up of his essence had by now appeased, he set himself to the full enjoyment of a prolonged and appetizing conquest in which he knew his self-control to be perfectly assured.
He continued to stifle her outcries with savage kisses, his face deep-lined with concentration. But this time, part of that was occupied with the information she had just supplied, detached and isolated on a plane which could not be distracted by the growing fever of physical sensations besieging him in the tight enclaspment of her wombwalls.
Her snorts and whimpers intensified as she frantically tried to twist her bruised mouth away, and her fingernails raked him viciously. But these sensory impressions cumulatively heightened the exultance of his frictional conquest of her cunthole, of the tactile delights his fingers knew in squeezing the moist and shuddering curves of bosom and bottomcheek. Now that he had established a regular cadence, he paid no heed to her muffled protests, nor to the gouging of her fingernails, but slid his left hand down between their bodies till his forefinger found the moist vent of her slit and entered alongside his prick in search of the very keystone of her being.
Suddenly her eyes bulged crazily, her forehead became violently furrowed, her cheeks flamed, and her palms began to beat a sporadic rhythm against his sinewy back. He had found the dainty nodule of her clitoris and was frigging it delicately, just grazing the sensitive sides and top of the button. And each time he touched it, her thigh muscles spasmed and flexed uncontrollably, and her bottom lifted from the bed.
He could hear the squishy, suctional sounds her cunt made as it accepted the rhythmic entry and withdrawal of his unyielding cock. Her muffled outcries had by now begun to change to keening moans, and her eyes rolled this way and that. He could hazard her outcry now, he knew.
He bent his head and took between his teeth the turgid bud of a nipple, as his forefinger flattened her clitoris back into its protective cowl of pussy-flesh, while very slowly he pushed his cock onward from the rims of her twitching vulva till their pubic hairs ground together.
"Ohhh-ahhh-ouuu-Oh God-oh, God-aah-oh please-stop it-ohhh, I'm going to faint-ahhh-pi-please-ooouuuuhhhh!!!" came her sobbing tremolo.
"Better to faint this way, Elsie girl, than from suffocating from that bustle and corset you generally wear. I declare, you Eastern females ought to live out here a spell, you'd soon settle for breechclout and moccasins. Now, why don't you put your arms around me instead of trying to break your fancy-polished nails on my tough hide, Elsie girl? And don't hold it back, I know you're dying to let it go-well, give me all you've got, Elsie lover!"
With this, his finger again sought her clitoris, flattened and kept it pressed back in its hiding place as slowly his prick found the tight delicious way to the very bottom of her cunt. The fingers of his right hand dug into her satiny asscheek with cruelly pinching fervor. Elsie Thurston tilted back her head and now both bare knees flung widely asprawl as her heels began to drum the rumpled counterpane.
He released the springy button of her clitoris and now began to capriciously stroke it this way and that, to flatten and rub it, while he quickened his prick-thrusts. Her words were unintelligible, a babbling, inchoate deluge of whimpering, sobbing, gasping sounds as her body jerked and shuddered to his attunement. And at the last moment of paroxysm, her naked legs again clenched over his bottom and her fingers grabbed at the back of his head as she uttered a prolonged sobbing wail.
This time, he could feel her violent spasming before his own more leisurely fulfillment came upon him. And then, even while she was still in the throes, he drew himself out and swung himself off the bed, reached down and dragged her up by an elbow. "Thought I heard a knock on your door there, Elsie girl. Maybe you better go back and see that Miss Dorothy isn't too homesick."
"Ahh-wha-what are you-oh-oooh-oh-God, let me be-" her head lolled, her titties rose and fell rapidly as she sat, bowed over, her hands rubbing her shuddering thighs, still in that dazed limbo of hot woman-come.
"Yeah, Elsie girl, I'm pretty sure I heard her knock. Better get moving, girl," he urged, lifting her to her feet and giving her a solid smack on the bottom with the flat of his hand which made her stumble and squeal. "Better pick up your duds in the bathroom and be sure to close the door on your side, or I might just come back for thirds. Be seeing you around Laredo, Elsie. Oh yeah-thanks for the bath."
With a frightened squeal, Elsie stooped and feverishly amassed the bundle of assorted garments lying on the floor beside the bathtub. Brian, chuckling softly, strode over and closed the door which joined his room to the bathroom, and then walked to the window, breathing deeply, exulting in the warm glow of sexual completion.
But now his mind dismissed Elsie Thurston's lush charms. "Jabez Townsend, eh?" he said softly to himself. "Yep, Elsie girl, you were real accommodating. Hot meat for me, and a piece of news that'll be a big help to Crazy Elk and the Commancheros!"
CHAPTER THREE
"My goodness, Aunt Elsie, I hope I didn't wake you up from a nap, I've been knocking ever so long."
The flustered widow blushed as she shook her head. "No-no, I-I was finishing my bath, and I couldn't get out before," she stammered. "Do come in, dear. And please don't look. I just had time to put on this bathrobe, and I don't even have my corset on."
Dorothy Maxton's heart-shaped face at once expressed contrition. "Oh, I'm ever so sorry, Aunt Elsie!" She walked over to the heavy stuffed chair beside the window and primly and very slowly seated herself on its edge, surreptitiously reaching back to hoist the wire frame bustle under her dress. "I ought to have guessed you'd want a tub after that dreadful, dusty ride from San Antonio. But I was so busy gadding about, asking where I could find dear Jabez, that I quite forgot."
"That's very thoughtful of you, my dear," Elsie quavered as she seated herself on the edge of the bed, nervously glancing at the bathroom door, which she had left just slightly ajar. Then she gave it another distracted glance, for the pungent fumes of a cheroot had begun to filter through from the other room. Unconsciously she clutched her plump thighs and glanced down at herself to make sure the bathrobe was completely buttoned and tightly belted. "I-I guess I am a little tired from that awful ride. But we're here now, thank goodness. And did you find out where Lieutenant Townsend is, Dorothy dear?"
"Oh yes, Aunt Elsie! He's on maneuvers, but that nice marshall said the troop ought to be in by sundown. Then maybe after supper you and I can go over to the fort and inquire about him. Do you think that would be proper?"
"I don't see why not, Dorothy dear. After all, you are his intended, and the last letter he wrote said that Colonel Brierly was going to arrange to have the wedding right at the fort, and a big military reception right after. So I'm sure there's nothing improper in wanting to see Lieutenant Townsend after you've come such a dreadfully long way. I declare, it seemed like months all the way from Philadelphia to Chicago, and then on to St. Louis, even if that was all by rail. But after that, nothing but stagecoach. I declare, I'm sure I'm black and blue by now!"
Then, as again her nostrils twitched to the pungency of the cheroot fumes, the dark-haired widow suddenly rose and pulled shut the bathroom door, her last words having recalled a much more recent cause for the bruises of which she complained. "I do wish men wouldn't smoke, Dorothy!" she nervously declared. "Lieutenant Townsend doesn't, I'm sure. He's such a well-bred young man. I must say, though, that while it's awfully romantic for you to come all this way to be reunited with him, it's just a shame the Army had to send him out to this Godforsaken country."
"Now, Aunt Elsie, we both know it's his bounden duty. I respect him for not using his name and influence back home, I truly do," Dorothy Maxton proudly retorted...
Brian yawned and scratched his belly. As soon as the sun went down, he'd find himself a steak and then ride out to the Basin. If that stable back of the hotel had any really good horses, he ought to be able to make it there by midnight. Colonel Max Sandoval and Chief Crazy Elk would be waiting to hear from him, and so far he had plenty to tell them.
He chuckled as he heard Elsie slam the bathroom door shut on her side. Touchy bitch, that one, but it figured. Any woman who hadn't got herself poked in five long years had to be a bundle of nerves. Too bad that niece of hers had had to flounce in when she did, or he might have gone back for thirds. Might have been interesting to see how Elsie would react to a bolus shoved up her brownhole, because for sure her late lamented hubby hadn't ever tried it there. Come to think of it, she probably had her other virginity too-her mouth. If they ever got together again maybe he could break her in and take those other two cherries. Sure would be fun trying.
He squinted at the wall over to the left of the bathroom. There was a framed etching nailed to the yellowish plaster, lopsided too. Looked to be a scene in a forest, with a lot of people dressed up in fur coats and caps driving a sled with a pack of wolves trailing behind them. He ambled over to inspect it, read the title aloud: "The Wolves of Kromy," then chuckled. The artist had a Russian name, so for damn sure this drawing wasn't about Texas. He put his hand to the side of the frame to level it and then chuckled again. He had dislodged a crumbling section of plaster. He tugged at the frame and the nail came off easily and there was a jagged opening right through the wall, a peephole, no less, provided by the courtesy of the New Frontier Hotel.
He bent and squinted through it, and found himself looking at Elsie's niece. About five feet six inches, he judged, but she seemed a lot taller because her pink silk over-dress swelled from the waist, rose to her throat and its hems covered her high-buttoned shoes and trailed on the floor. She was wearing those newfangled puffed sleeves that were so fashionable back East. Jesus, what did she have over her ass? Goddamn if it wasn't a bustle just like Elsie's, and it made her stand there as if she had a ramrod straight down her spine.
She'd worn that bonnet in the stagecoach, but now he could see that her hair was honey-colored, and made into a Psyche knot by folding the long hair back on itself and twisting it this way and that till it stood in a short clublike growth above her crown. A pink ribbon was circled around it to keep it in place-the touch of a real lady, that!
Although he had fucked Elsie with all his vigor, Brian felt his crotch itch now with renewed desire. He would willingly have given up a month of steak suppers to have a chance right now of finding out what Dorothy Maxton looked like under all that get-up. From his vantage point of a one-eye view, and remembering past amorous encounters with females as protectively clothed, he was willing to bet she had good, full tits and a nice slim waist, a full, well-turned bottom and proud, long legs that could readily learn to clutch a man tightly enough to help him touch the bottom and scrape the sides of her tasty cunt.
As she turned toward her aunt and showed him her face in full view, Brian studied it. It had something of the quality of a Botticelli Madonna, with pure, high-arching forehead, thin and neatly plucked eyebrows which made her large, widely spaced dark-blue eyes damnably expressive. He liked her nose, too, diminutive and thin-winged, with just the hint of a tilt above a wide, sensuous mouth. In his book, that nose and that mouth were sure signs of smoldering fires banked for outward cooling. And if the milky skin of her cheeks (heightened by a tiny black beauty patch under her left eye) was any indication of what he'd find if he tore her duds off, then she had the whitest legs, belly, ass and tits in all of Texas. He licked his lips as he slipped his hand down to the crotch of his drawers and began stealthily and insistently to rub his prick...
"Well, my dear, I'd expect you to say something like that," the dark-haired widow sighed. "After all, no less than Mrs. Emily Swithin herself, from whose finishing academy for young ladies you were graduated with the very highest honors, told me confidentially, 'Certainly I would not wish to seem boastful, but I do believe that Miss Max ton exemplifies to an exceptional degree the genteel and tasteful product that we try to model here at the Academy.' Those were her very words, Dorothy!"
"Oh dear! Just be careful and don't repeat them to anyone outside this hotel room, Aunt Elsie, or I shall simply die of shame!" Dorothy Max ton blushingly declared. "I should be taken for a blue-stocking, and while I know that dear Jabez happily possesses a most intellectual mind and would appreciate such news, I fear his somewhat uncouth subordinates might poke fun at me if they overheard you!"
Might want to poke you themselves, you sweet yellow-haired piece of untried cunt! Brian thought to himself. The hole through the plaster afforded not only an excellent view into the adjoining bedroom, but it also enabled him to hear reasonably well, since the bed on which his recent conquest sat was up against the wall.
"Well, it's true, just the same. Oh my, could I ask you to get my little Japanese fan from the valise? I declare, even with the curtains drawn, it's stifling in here!" Elsie exclaimed. Then, as her niece smilingly nodded and moved to the other end of the room to open the nearest of the three bulging burlap traveling bags (one contained her trousseau, another her attire for ordinary days, and the third belonged to her aunt), Elsie went on, "Of course, you and Jabez are such dutiful people. But then, that's to be expected, what with the way both of you were upreared. Noblesse oblige, I always say. Just the same, I can't for the life of me bring myself to realize that you actually mean to live out here for the rest of your life. Why, it's practically a wilderness, with savages and drunkards and heat and dust! And they tell me they've even got deadly snakes and-what did the stagedriver call those horrid things-oh yes, Gila Monsters! And then, to think of bringing up children-I mean-oh dear-you know what I mean!"
The widow blushed furiously at having let slip so indelicate a remark to her virginal ward. She sent another frantic and hasty glance at the now-closed bathroom door. What had just happened to her could very well make a baby-and she a respectable widow past five years! Hastily, to cover up her slip, she prattled, "Of course, maybe it's just because I'm tired and we've just arrived after such a terribly long journey. I daresay when his superiors learn what a competent and gifted officer they have in your intended, Dorothy dear, they II want to transfer him back to a civilized place like Washington or Boston or Philadelphia so he can train less fortunate soldiers to look upon duty the way he does. Oh thank you, dear, that fan's a blessing!" She took it from her niece's hand, furled it open and energetically waved it up and down, closing her eyes and leaning back with a sigh of relief.
"Don't be so gloomy, Aunt Elsie. It'll be heaven to be with Jabez, making a new life. There'll be lots of things to do. And that reminds me, the nice marshall who told me that Jabez's company would be back at the fort by sundown said that there was going to be a big cotillion at the fort tomorrow night. Just think, Aunt Elsie, music and dancing and all! So you see, Laredo isn't so backward as you think. I shall save every dance for dear Jabez, that I shall."
Brian straightened, carefully lifted the framed etching and replaced it over the hole in the wall. He picked up his discarded cheroot, saw that it had gone out, and pitched it into the spittoon. He glanced down at the crotch of his drawers, and saw that he had another hard-on, though not the size of the two with which he had served Elsie to help her unwillingly celebrate the end of her prolonged widowhood. It would keep, he decided. There'd be plenty of Indian pussy up at the Basin, a lot better fun that jacking off after having played Peeping Tom. Besides, just looking and thinking about Dorothy Maxton and playing with his pud wasn't at all the way he wanted to enjoy her. And he just got a brilliant idea on how to make that very satisfyingly possibility possible.
CHAPTER FOUR
Before Dorothy Maxton and her aunt had agreed to take a little nap before supper, Brian had already made his plans. There was a back stairway to this hotel which let out into a little courtyard flanked at one side by a stable and at the other by a ladies notion store. Nothing could be better. Spiriting Dorothy away right onto a horse and heading out for the Basin would be easy as pie.
So after he had finished his cheroot, he strolled down to the hotel lobby, bade the clerk an affable "Good afternoon," and then went down the street to the apothecary's shop where he purchased a little bottle of chloroform. When the proprietor raised his eyebrows, Brian easily explained that he had an old mare and was too softhearted to shoot her, so the chloroform would be just as merciful. After a good deal of gossip on the old man's part, Brian pocketed his bottle, paid the tab and then, with a grand flourish, purchased a dozen of the best cheroots in stock.
Next he visited the stable behind the hotel and rented an old buggy and a big black mare, but not without some argument. Jed Denston, who sprouted a gray beard nearly down to his belly, was all for letting him have a skittish pinto. It was a real bargain, he asserted, and he'd let Brian buy it for not much more than the rental. The owner had been a Mexican who had been shot down in a tavern brawl just a few days before, and there was a feed bill due. Despite the graybeard's salesmanship, Brian firmly decided on the mare.
Then he stretched out on his bed and waited for the night. Food could wait until the rendezvous with Colonel Max Sandoval at the Basin. There'd be venison and buffalo steaks, good Texas beef, plenty of chicken cooked Mexican and Comanche style, and kegs of whiskey and tequila to wash it down. Besides, on the trail he'd managed for days without a formal meal and only a little jerky, and what he craved right now wasn't food. After Elsie's generous charms, he wanted to treat himself to a piece of Dorothy Maxton's juicy virgin cunt, after peeling down all that Eastern finery and squeezing her ass and tits and legs to test their young firmness.
At about seven-thirty, he heard voices in the next room, and sprang out of bed to take his station at the wall peephole. They'd come back from supper at the Laredo Grill, a fancy name for the town's only decent eatery. The food wasn't too bad, except that the greaser cook insisted on frying steaks and potatoes in lard instead of skillet-broiling the meat Still and all, he made pretty good pies. But the only pie Brian wanted right about now was flavored cherry and it belonged to Dorothy Maxton.
He greedily watched the honey-haired blonde turn to Elsie, yawn behind a politely covering palm and exclaim, "Aunt Elsie, I think I'd like a quick bath and then bed. It's been such a trying day. And I must get plenty of sleep so I can be at my very best at the cotillion, you know, and dance with dear Jabez! It's true I'd wanted to surprise him tonight, but this dreadful heat has worn me out."
"That's a very sensible idea, Dorothy," Elsie approved. "Don't forget to bolt both sides of the bathroom door, though. The-er-the person next door might come in by mistake, you know."
It was all Brian could do to keep from laughing out loud at that one. He could imagine what thoughts had been going through Elsie's prim, neatly ordered mind when she had referred to him as "the person next door". He wondered if she was secretly yearning for another good hot poke. Well, it wasn't her turn, this time.
"Of course, Aunt Elsie. I'll undress in the bathroom, too. It's too bad we couldn't have got two separate rooms. Dorothy Maxton petulantly declared. As she vanished from his range of vision, Brian quickly straightened, drew out a bandanna handkerchief and the chloroform bottle, uncorked the latter and emptied nearly half of it into the black cotton cloth. Then he crept to the bathroom door, putting his ear to the crack and waiting for the telltale sound which would tell him that Dorothy Maxton had bolted the door from her side of the room. As soon as he heard that fateful click, he flung open the door and entered.
She was just turning when she saw him, and before she could utter a cry, he had clapped the bandanna over her nose and mouth, his left hand swiftly grasping her wrists in a steely vise. Her eyes strained, shadowed with anger and fear, and she twisted furiously in his grasp. His right hand forced the chloroform-wet bandanna tighter than ever, till he was rewarded by seeing her eyes close and feeling her jerking wrists relax. Her head tilted back, and he caught her in his arms before she could fall to the floor.
Quickly making sure that the lock on her side of the bathroom door was solidly bolted, he carried her back into his room. It was a matter of minutes to bind her wrists behind her with a rawhide thong then drag an old burlap sack he'd picked up at the stable over her head and shoulders and down to her waist. Another thong around her ankles and she was ready for the buggy.
Putting on his bowler hat and taking the old carpetbag out of the closet, he turned back to the unconscious girl. Quickly lifting her in his arms and having opened the door to his room just a crack before going into the bathroom, he kicked down the door with his foot and trudged down the hall to the back stairway. There wasn't a soul in the corridor and there wasn't a sound anywhere. A few minutes later, he had laid his burden in the back of the buggy and covered her with an old Indian blanket. He got into the seat, took up the reins and clucked his tongue at the black mare, who pricked up her ears and began a docile trot. Five minutes later, he was on the outskirts of Laredo and heading for the obscure trail which led to the stronghold.
There was a full moon to light the way as he guided the mare through the narrow arroyos once they had left the flat mesa behind and moved toward the craggy peaks of the distant Basin. Strangely enough, the mare was restive, as if spooked, and several times he'd had to jerk her head up from a clump of mesquite or patches of flowering yucca. Once, about five miles out of Laredo, she'd whinnied and pawed the air with her front hooves, having spied a rattler near a jagged rock across her path. He'd drawn his old Army colt from the hip and smashed its head with a single shot, then gentled the mare till her heaving had stopped and she responded to the firm hand on the reins.
When he saw the first landmark, an old Joshua tree, blasted by lightning at the mouth of the canyon, he dismounted and unhitched the buggy. Here the trail would be no wider than the breadth of his mare, and he was going to have to soothe her plenty before letting her tackle it, especially with an additional rider.
Whisking off the burlap sack, he stared greedily down at Dorothy Max ton's flushed, lovely face. Her eyes were still closed, but the gentle flicker of her nostrils told him that she was very much alive. He'd been a little afraid that maybe he'd put too much chloroform in that bandanna, but he'd wanted to knock her out fast before she could scream and get Elsie all hot and bothered enough to call for help.
What he'd really like to do would be to peel her down to her drawers and camisole right now to make for easier riding but that could wait until they got to the Basin. Because he wanted to take a long time getting down to her lovely bare hide, so that she would be conscious of every second of his enjoyment as well as having an audience around to make this prim piece of cherry practically wet her drawers from shame. Well, there wasn't any help for it then; he was going to have to tie her to him while they rode the narrow trail on to the stronghold.
He untied her ankles, his fingers lingering over slim ankles and high-set calves snugly sheathed in gray lisle stockings. It took a lot of self-restraint to keep from running his hands all the way up to where her stockings ended and even beyond. But he'd learned the lesson of Spartan self-denial pretty well from his Comanche allies.
When you worked and lived with them, you either played by their rules or your scalp would decorate their teepees. So with a reluctant sigh, he lifted her up to her feet and, lofting her skirt and petticoats just enough to get her astride the mare, plumped her down. Then he tied her ankles again with the rawhide thong under the mare's belly. Taking out his jackknife, he slashed at the burlap sack until he had made himself two long double strips. Mounting the mare and patting her and talking to her so she wouldn't get too nervous at this unusual procedure, Brian used the strips to bind Dorothy around the waist and tied the knots at his own. Her head rested on his left shoulder, and he could smell the sachet she used on her clothes. Her titties were pressing hard against his back, and it was a good feeling. It would make him all the more careful along the half-mile of winding trail which looked straight down into the rocky gorge. Many an unwary outlaw, fleeing from a Laredo posse, had seen that Joshua tree and figured a way to escape, only to have his horse go over with him after only a few hundred yards. Besides, those with guts or luck enough to reach Devil's Lookout could be dropped by a sniper's bullet if they didn't know the countersign.
The black mare was a good one, even if she had been a little nervous just out of Laredo. He kept the reins tight in his left hand and patted her head and talked to her as she started along the narrow way. He just hoped the chloroform would last until they got to Devil's Lookout. He could feel Dorothy Maxton's breathing now, and it was steadier. He began to sweat a little and to try not to look down below.
And then the almost perpendicular rock formation towered above him as the trail broadened to flat-rocked mesa once again. Behind it was a tortuous pitting of holes and gaps by which an agile man might climb to the top. He heard the hooting of an owl three times from its summit-that would be Missoula Joe, the night guard. Promptly, he cupped his right hand to his mouth and echoed the call twice quickly, and then, after a pause, gave a third, prolonged call. Then, clicking his booted heels against the mare's belly, he urged her past the grotesque boulders, which, when the sun fell upon them at midday, seemed to outline a leering evil face, hence its name.
From here, the trail descended steeply into a kind of valley completely surrounded by precipitous mountains, and to his left he saw the sprawling hacienda of Colonel Max Sandoval. Though it was midnight, he could see the flickering pinpoints of lanterns at the hacienda and beyond in the adobe houses of the members of the band. Far to the right was an enormous rectangular flathouse where guns, ammunition and the booty from Comanchero raids were stored.
Just as he was about to dismount, he heard a groan behind him and then suddenly, in a voice trembling with mingled indignation and fear, "Where-where am I-who are you-where have you brought me?"
Yanking out his jackknife, he slashed the burlap strips which had bound Dorothy Maxton to him on the arduous ride, leaped down from the black mare and surveyed his victim. A couple of grinning Mexican vaqueros lounging on the steps which led to the spacious veranda of the hacienda, quickly and uncharacteristically rose to their feet at the sight of Brian's prize. One of them, a squat little man with an enormous curling black mustachio, came up to the mare and chuckled, "Que bonita! Senor Moss, did you ride the senorita like this all the way from the signal tree? You are indeed muy caballero! Only I, Sanchez," as he turned back to wink at his compatriot, "would have assuredly stopped along the way for another kind of ride, no es verdad?" With this, he lifted his right hand and squeezed Dorothy Maxton's calf through skirt and petticoats. The honey-haired young woman uttered an abhorrent cry, struggling with her bonds to evade his touch.
But Brian moved around to confront her tormentor and said genially, "Thanks for the compliment, Sanchez. Just get your hand off her leg, or I'll cut your tripes out. There'll be time enough to see what she looks like and feels like after the Colonel has had a chat with her, savvy? "
"But of course, Senor Moss, I meant no harm," the little Mexican backed away, his eyes uneasy. Brian shrugged, then turned to stare up at the fuming blonde, "Well now, Miss Maxton, you came through that ride pretty well, I'd say, for an Easterner. Of course, I imagine you would rather have ridden side-saddle, but that wouldn't have worked out on the narrow trail we took."
"Why you-you-you kidnapper!" she spluttered, again frantically trying to jerk her wrists free of the rawhide bonds, and then, glancing down at her rucked-up skirt and petticoats, turning very red in the face, "You get me down off this horse this minute, whoever you are! Do you know who I am? I am betrothed to Lieutenant Jabez Townsend, and he leads a troop of cavalry, do you understand? The minute he finds out I've been abducted, hell come here with all his men and hang you for this!"
The two vaqueros burst into jeering laughter, slapping their thighs at such high-flown language. Brian removed his bowler, made her a mock little bow, and blandly retorted, "Not right off, he won't, Dorothy girl. Somehow I don't think a troop of Army cavalry could make it from the signal tree. I hope, however, that your vapors have passed and that you're not feeling too much under the weather."
"Who are you?" she persisted, biting her lips with mortification. "Where am I and why have you brought me here? I've a right to know, I think."
"Oh, you'll know soon enough, Dorothy girl. Yes, Elsie was certainly right about your being a model pupil at that academy back in Philadelphia."
Consternation struggled with indignation on Dorothy's lovely face. "You-you know my aunt?"
"Indeed I do, Dorothy girl. In the Biblical sense, you might say," Brian drawled. "But now let's bring you in to the hacienda because I know that Max will be not only surprised but delighted to make your acquaintance."
So saying, he slashed the rawhide thong binding her ankles, then lifted her down and set her on the ground, his hands gripping her slim waist as he stared boldly into her scarlet face.
"Ohhh! Let go of me-there's no need to hold me like this-stop it, I tell you! You-you filthy coward, you have to tie me so I won't slap your ugly face as you deserve!"
"Seguro, that one needs manners taught her, Senor Moss," Sanchez chuckled.
"She'll have ample time to learn them, Sanchez, don't fret about that. All right, Dorothy girl, I'll cut your hands loose and just see what you'll do." Stepping behind her as he slashed through the rawhide thong. Dorothy Maxton whirled, drew back her right hand and struck him with all her might across the cheek.
"Hola! The rubia is a wildcat!" Sanchez's companion grinned.
Brian Moss did not flinch. Calmly, transferring his jackknife to his left hand, he returned the slap with interest, and Dorothy Maxton uttered a horrified cry as she recoiled, the mark of his fingers and palm glowingly imprinted on her pale cheek. "You-you'd strike a woman-oh, you despicable creature!" she gasped.
He grasped her by the elbow. "Let's continue your little domestic squabble in the hacienda, Dorothy girl. It wouldn't do to keep Max waiting."
"Let go of me-I won't go-you've no right-ouch! Oh, you're vile, you're-owww!-you're horrible!" For Brian, reaching behind her with his left hand, applied a hard pinch to the side of one of her titties. Dorothy Maxton stumbled forward, trying to jerk her elbow free of his grip. But he put his left palm to her bustle and shoved, and the pretty young Eastern belle ignominiously stumbled up the steps to the wide veranda amid the laughter of the two watching vaqueros.
Before Dorothy Maxton could regain her balance and try to strike back at her captor, Brian, his left hand taking her by the scruff of the neck and his right hand gripping her elbow, had propelled her through the open door into the huge living room, in whose center Colonel Max Sandoval stood, tilting a cut-glass decanter of prime whiskey into a tin cup held out by a tall barrel-chested Comanche in full warpaint, with bonnet of eagle feathers, breechclout and moccasins. Half a dozen Comancheros, four of them white outlaws and the other two Mexican desperados, sprawled at their ease on an upholstered settee or in horsehair-padded armchairs, smoking cigars and taking occasional swigs from their own bottles of whiskey.
Six feet tall, his curly brown hair graying at the temples, wearing a Confederate uniform with a colonel's insignia, Max Sandoval set down the decanter and strode forward, a surprised grin on his angular face. "Well, Brian boy, I see you've brought your new girl friends just in time to have a drink before Chief Crazy Elk gives our merry little band a lesson in Comanche discipline!" the leader of the Comancheros welcomed him.
Brian again doffed his bowler, then tossed it toward the settee. "Good! It'll be a fine lesson for Dorothy girl here to watch, Max. Before I forget my manners," he turned to grin at the trembling scarlet-faced blonde, "allow me to present Colonel Max Sandoval, head of the Comancheros. And that tall redskin with the bonnet of eagle feathers happens to be Crazy Elk, war-chief of the Comanches. You're certainly in illustrious company, Dorothy girl."
"C-Comancheros?" Dorothy Maxton stammeringly echoed, her eyes shifting first to the saturnine face of Max Sandoval, then to the almost naked Indian just beyond him. "Why, you-you're all outlaws, with a price on your head! When Lieutenant Townsend finds out where you are, hell hang all of you, do you understand?"
"Paleface squaw have heap big mouth," Crazy Elk gutturally countered, folding his arms across his painted chest. About thirty-two, he was a renegade who, like Geronimo of the Apaches, had rebelled against the peace treaty of 1871 with the Shoshonean tribes and defied the leadership of Crooked Nose, who had in his waning years counseled peace with the white men and accepted the servile life of an Oklahoma reservation. He had tomahawked Crooked Nose the very night after the treaty had been signed, stolen a Union cavalry captain's horse after knifing its owner, liberated twenty young warriors from the stockade, and ridden south to Texas, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Other Comanches, hearing of his valorous deeds, had defied their own tribal chiefs to join him here at the Basin. By now, he had a force of. a thousand warriors, and his lightninglike raids on peaceful Texas and Oklahoma towns had been grave concern among the legislators in the nation's capitol. Over the past five years, over a dozen skilled military units had been sent against his roving bands, but Crazy Elk had cunningly evaded all their traps, inflicting fearful defeats from ambush on three of these Army companies.
"You can see that Crazy Elk doesn't quite agree with you, Dorothy girl," Brian smiled. "Now then, you might as well relax and not get huffy every other minute, because you're going to be here quite a while. And I think, Max, we ought to invite our charming guest to see just how Crazy Elk keeps discipline in our ranks, don't you agree?"
"I couldn't agree more, Brian boy. This is really a juicy filly you've brought us-I assume you haven't forgotten our Comanchero law of share and share alike?" Max Sandoval hinted.
Dorothy Maxton shrank back at the lustful glint in his eyes, turned to look around her to see if there wasn't a way to escape. But two of the white renegades and a Mexican had risen now and barred the open door, ogling her and lewdly appraising her charms among themselves.
"You see, Dorothy girl?" Brian pursued with a wink at his leader. "Nobody wants you to leave yet. Why, we haven't seen what ladies from the East are wearing these days, so it's a rare treat you'll be furnishing us. Yes, and an instructive one as well. I'll swear you've got a bustle on as big as Elsie's, but I'd say she's got a bigger ass than you, Dorothy girl."
"Ohhh! How-how dare you!"
Max Sandoval had pursed his lips and was eyeing Brian intently. "Didn't she say something about being the intended of a Lieutenant Townsend, Brian?"
"The very same, Max. He's an ambitious young Philadelphia boy fresh from West Point, probably not yet dry behind the ears, who's been assigned to take the soldier boys out to find you and Crazy Elk and bring them to what the Army calls justice. The minute I found that out, I told myself that it would be very useful to have her as a hostage, just in case Lieutenant Townsend is one of those glory boys. Suppose he brings the whole company out looking for his dearly beloved? We can pick them off like ducks on a pond and it'll make the Army think twice before they muster up another one of their so-called punitive expeditions."
"Now, that's what I call smart thinking, Brian boy. All right, Miss Dorothy, you'll be our guest for this evening. And, as Brian says, you're just in time to see how Crazy Elk punishes those who don't follow our laws. I think," Max Sandoval turned to Brian, "you'd better hobble her so she won't try running away. Crazy Elk doesn't like to have a disturbance at the trials."
"Of course, Max." Brian quickly stepped behind the stupefied young blonde, jerked her arms behind her wrists and lashed them tightly together with the rawhide thong he had used on the trail. "I'll keep her right beside me, Max, so shell be a good girl," he promised. Then, with a mocking smile at the shuddering captive, he added for her benefit, "I'm not going to tie your legs, Dorothy girl. But if you try running away while the trial is going on, so help me. I'll run my hands all the way up to your drawers and find out how much hair you've got between those long sweet legs of yours, and that's a promise!"
"Let Sanchez and Ruiz take her out there, Brian boy, I want to talk to you for a couple of minutes first. Go ahead, Chief. Sit in the throne-chair and take over, I'll join you after I've had a word with my good friend here," Max Sandoval ordered.
Dorothy Maxton uttered a cry as the two vaqueros who had accosted her outside now grabbed her by the elbows, turned and quick-marched her out of the hacienda, amid the catcalls and jeers of the loungers.
Crazy Elk's cold-blue eyes considered Brian as he held out his hand. Brian winced at the Comanche's grip, but his smile did not flicker. Crazy Elk picked up the tin cup, swigged down half of it with a gulp, then proffered it to Brian, while Max Sandoval watched, his brown eyes wary and narrowed. But when Brian touched his forehead with his left hand, then gulped down the rest of the whiskey and set the cup down on the table, his thin lips curved in an approving smile.
"It makes my heart warm to see my brother, the white-eye Brian," Crazy Elk said with a guttural Shoshonean dialect, touching his breast with his fist.
"My heart, too, is warm for my brother. We will talk much this night when the trial is done. Now go you to judgement, Crazy Elk."
"I go, my white brother. Is that paleface squaw to be yours?"
"She is to be shared with us, Crazy Elk, as is our law. If you wish to take her on your blanket in your wickiup, then I am proud to have brought her here for my red brother's pleasure."
"Good. You are good friend and good brother. I see you after trial." Crazy Elk touched Brian's forehead with his fist, nodded and with a grunt, stalked out of the hacienda.
Max Sandoval gripped Brian's hand and chuckled, "You haven't lost your diplomatic skill, my boy. I'd a notion you'd be here tonight with news, but I wasn't expecting you to bring back a hostage. And what a hostage! I only hope that you and I don't have a duel to find out who is going to be the first to peel Miss Dorothy down to her buff and find out what she's really got under all those duds."
"Of course we won't quarrel over a bitch, not with so many running around for the taking, Max."
"That's fine. Well, let's hope your news is good. You know, we lost eighteen of our best men in that raid against that goddamned Lieutenant Eldridge."
"I know that, but he caught a ball in the belly and just did pull through. He's back in Boston now, probably tending to his garden. That's why they've got this shining knight in white armor, this intended of Miss Dorothy, you see. He'll be heading up Company C. And I've got a few notions about how we can draw him out here to save his intended so that shell be able to wear a white dress at their wedding."
"But white is for virgins, Brian boy."
"I know that, Max, for God's sake!" Brian's tone was bantering. "It'd be a lot of fun letting him know just what might happen to his dearly beloved in promising him that maybe we won't take her cherry if he's a good boy and don't bring his soldier boys out after us. And in the meantime, we can have even more fun teaching our gently bred Eastern filly the difference between a virgin and a whore. She's the sensitive kind, Max, believe me, she is. I found that out from her aunt, and I've got plans for Elsie too, by the way. But first things first. Step by step, I want Dorothy Maxton to know every possible indignity and humiliation, until that sensitive veneer of hers, that prissy Philadelphia girls' academy training just can't cope with what's going to happen to her any longer. I want to get her down to begging and clawing and scratching, to bedrock fucking, Max boy. Right now she almost fainted when I pinched her tittie to get her up the stairs into here. Before we've finished with her, I want to see her ready to spread her legs the minute we unbuckle our pants, learn to take those big tits of hers and go down on her knees and jack us off between them, that's what I've got in mind for her."
"Now that's a program I won't even have to put to a vote," Max Sandoval grinned as he clapped Brian on the back. "Let's have another drink before we go out there and see what Crazy Elk's got in store for us and for your sweet, unblemished virgin." He poured generously for Brian from the cut-glass decanter to the brim of the tin cup, then tilted the decanter to his mouth and took a hearty swig.
Colonel Max Sandoval, forty-four, had been born in New Orleans, to a beautiful Creole girl and a dissolute young Mississippi plantation owner whose passion for gambling was almost greater than his passion for cunt. Indeed, he had married the Creole only because he could bed her in no other way. He had been shot down at a card table by a drunken riverman who had accused him of cheating. Max had been just fifteen then, but he had sought out his father's killer and gunned him down in a fair fight. Then he and his mother had gone to work like slaves building up the rundown plantation, and they had prospered until the Civil War. Perhaps if it had not been for that war, Max Sandoval would have become the man his father always dreamed of being, married and settled down and enjoying in leisurely gentlemanly fashion the wealth his toil had brought him. But when Fort Sumter was fired upon, he enlisted at once and rose to the rank of Lieutenant within six months. An expert horseman, a superb marksman with the pistol and rifle alike, he rode with the Confederacy's cavalry genius, Jeb Stuart. He won his captain's bars after a desperate encounter with vastly superior Union strength near Vicksburg. He had risen to the rank of colonel when Lee surrendered at Appomattox, and like all the other Southern officers who were permitted to keep their swords and their honor, he went back to his plantation to try to rebuild his life.
But the waves of carpetbaggers and the brutal occupation by troops commanded by the infamous Colonel Butler destroyed that dream forever. His still beautiful mother was accosted by two corporals for failing to stop, uncover her head and salute their Union uniforms. Butler had decreed that all women who did not so uncover and acknowledge the Northern conquerors were to be treated no better than common whores. And so Max Sandoval's mother was seized, hauled before a debauched second lieutenant eager to show his bravado, stripped naked to the waist, her hands bound behind her, and forced to run the gantlet to fifty jeering, ogling soldiers. When she collapsed on the cobblestones of the dirty street, her back and breasts welted from switches, metal ramrods and double leather straps, she was gangraped and left to die in the hospital two days later.
Colonel Max Sandoval learned who had thus condemned his beautiful mother to such a degrading death, shot him down in cold blood and fled to Texas. For a time he had prospected for gold and found little, then set up a store in Laredo. Five years ago, hearing the news of Crazy Elk's vengeful rebellion against the Army, he had foreseen a chance to restore his fortunes, and the money he had left in the bank back home when he had had to flee Vicksburg.
He had inherited from his gambler father a keen judgement for poker, and he plunged into one high-stake game after another until he had amassed $30,000. This he invested in guns and whiskey and then he befriended a young Comanche who had been thrown into jail for brawling with a white man over an insult and was about to be lynched. The elderly marshall, who wanted no gunplay, was only too grateful to let him try to smuggle the brave out the back door of the jail, and Colonel Max Sandoval rode with his new friend out to the grim and desolate Basin, where no posse was likely to follow. He had brought along enough supplies for a week, and he and the brave holed up in this natural stronghold and became inseparable friends. It was from Running Water that Sandoval learned where Crazy Elk and his band hid from the soldiers. And during that week the brilliant idea of a true Comanchero stronghold grew to fruition in Sandoval's mind. A year later, he and some three hundred white and Mexican outlaws had built the hacienda, and the flathouse, as well as dwellings for the Comanches. It was not only an impregnable stronghold, it was an isolated, all-powerful empire where the rich Colonel Max Sandoval ruled with a ruthlessness as savage as that of Crazy Elk himself. Theft and infidelity were invariably punished by a slow, hideous death, as was treason. Most of the women in this stronghold were Mexican or Comanche, though there had been a few whites abducted on the many raids. Ironically, once a woman was taken by her captor, she was compelled by Comanchero law to be faithful to him alone; failing this rule, she could be put to death and her lover castrated.
"I hope, Max, that whatever it is, it'll be something to make Dorothy blush all the way down to those sweet titties of hers," Brian joked as he savored his whiskey.
"I think it'll make her blush, all right. Apart from killing that dirty thief Buck Haskins, who's long overdue, it seems that Swift Antelope has complained to Crazy Elk that he caught his young squaw Bright Star and that red-haired trollop from Dodge, Kathy Lorson, whom he married a couple of months back, girlfucking together. And you can be sure that Crazy Elk and his lieutenant have cooked up something very special for those two indiscreet fillies. Let's go out there now and watch. I imagine you're in a hurry to get back to Dorothy before Sanchez and Ruiz start feeling her up and get a little bit ahead of you, eh, Brian boy?"
"I already told Sanchez what I'd do to him if he started playing around until we decided what's going to happen to our sweet cloistered hostage, Max. But just the same, my prick's itching for action, so let's get the trial over with so we can get back to the hacienda and have a little fun with Dorothy."
CHAPTER FIVE
Beyond the courtyard of the hacienda, two huge ; campfires had been lighted to illumine the spectacle. A dozen vaqueros moved about them, piling on armfuls of sagebrush and kindling to intensify the blaze.
Beyond the fires, dozens of grinning desperadoes impatiently crowded side by side with laconic Comanche braves, to whom these public punishments were nothing more than the inevitable punishment of the rigid A leather-padded throne chair had been trundled out to the edge of the courtyard, and Crazy Elk was seated on it, arms folded over his painted chest. Usually, the Comancheros were divided as to the responsibility between Sandoval and the Comanche leader. At the time of their alliance, the ex-Confederate outlaw had proposed that he enforce the stronghold law against all whites and Mexicans, save when any of these culprits should be accused of forbidden consorting with Comanche females. But tonight, because Sandoval had wanted a few minutes of private conversation with his own lieutenant, Crazy Elk had enjoyed the grim satisfaction of dealing out his own kind of Indian justice to Buck Haskins.
Buck Haskins, bearded and runty, his leather-beaten face ashen-pale, had groveled before the taciturn war leader while the latter listened to the accusation by a lanky, Oklahoma outlaw, Dick Folansbee, and decided that Haskins had indeed been guilty of stealing the latter's watch. He had grunted, then fixed the whimpering culprit with a contemptuous stare as he had gutturally declared, "You die, white-eye thief!" And when Buck Haskins had slobberingly requested that this punishment was too great for the theft of an old and really worthless watch, and that moreover he had saved Max Sandoval's life six months ago during the raid on the town of Ramiro by knifing a storekeeper who had been aiming a pistol at the ex-Confederate, Crazy Elk had turned to Diego Vincente, a bluff fifty-year-old half-breed who had been one of the first to join Max Sandoval's forces, and had grunted, "Better you tell yellow-bellied white-eye why he die."
Diego Vincente had hawked and spat on the ground in front of the terrified culprit, then said, "Amigo, try to be a man, now that you are going to die, especially in front of these blood-brothers of ours. You know goddamn well you've broken one of our strictest laws. We steal from the rest of the world, who hate and fear us, but not from one another. Beyond the Basin there is fair game for every thief, but not here, ever! Pot Dios, if we are not honest with one another, we become weak and our enemies can destroy us. Say your prayers, amigo, and no hard feelings."
To the left of the throne-chair which Crazy Elk occupied, Sanchez and Ruiz stood flanking the horrified blonde hostage, Dorothy Maxton, each gripping her by an elbow. Her nearness made their cocks hard with lust, but they feared Brian's skill as a gun and knife fighter too much to try to take the slightest liberties with her now. Instead, they contented themselves with comments in the most obscene Spanish for their own enjoyable speculations on what she would look like when naked and ready for fucking, how she would react to being tethered to a stake by one thumb and made to caper and protect herself with her free arm against the lashes of a quirt on her ass and between her deliciously long legs.
But Dorothy Maxton neither understood nor heard them; numb with terror, she watched the pitiless execution of the cowardly thief who had to be dragged away by two desperadoes as his arms clung around Crazy Elk's legs in a final attempt to implore reprieve.
Two heavy burlap bags had been placed on the ground about three feet apart. Six feet beyond them two heavy wooden stakes had been driven into the ground, as widely separated as the bags. The two men had flung Buck Haskins down on his belly, strapped rawhide thongs around his booted ankles and made them fast to the heavy stakes. The watching crowd had suddenly fallen silent; all that could be heard was the crackling of the campfires and the sobbing of the condemned thief. Then Crazy Elk, rising from the throng-chair, spoke in his deep, hollow voice, "White-eye, choose now. Put out either hand, untie bag and thrust hand into it. One bag has sure death, but perhaps the other has only pain. I count ten, then you choose-or die by fire and torture, and my women will make your death long that way!"
Dorothy Maxton's frightened eyes fixed on the burlap bags then, and she could hear her own heart pounding wildly as the Comanche war leader gravely counted. Then she had seen the condemned man stretch out his left arm, his eyes feverishly bright, his breath coming in choking gasps as he fumbled with the rawhide thong around the neck of the bag and loosened it. She had seen his lips move in silent prayer as he thrust in his hand. Instantly he had stiffened, his face had lifted, and an inhuman shriek had been torn from him as he drew out his hand to which a diamondback rattler's jaws still clung.
Then she had uttered a cry of terror that momentarily deafened her. Diego Vincente had unholstered his Colt and with a single shot smashed the rattler's head. Mewling, eyes glassy, mouth twisted, Buck Haskins had tried to drag himself away from the stakes to which his legs were bound, his fingers scrabbling at the ground, until suddenly a convulsive spasm seized him and he slumped in death.
"Very clever, Senorita, do you not theenk?" Sanchez murmured into the blonde captive's ear. "In the other bag there is a scorpion from the desert. It does not always kill. The Senor Haskins was unlucky, but he was long overdue for death, that one."
"You-you horrible murderers, you savages!" Dorothy Maxton gasped in a shaking voice, her eyes still fixed on the inert figure near the campfires. "It wasn't justice, it was brutal, horrible murder! Oh, wait till the soldiers find you, then you'll know what justice really is!"
"The Senorita rubia has many dreams, no es verdad!" Sanchez taunted her as his pudgy fingers tightened against her elbow and his leering face neared her ashen-pale cheek. "But that dream could never happen, I, Sanchez, promise you. What is more likely to happen, querida, is that I will take off my breeches and show you something that is very real. It will have more bite even that that serpent when it puts itself into your sweet little nest-the nest, I mean, seguro, where your long legs come together," he guffawed.
Dorothy Maxton uttered a cry of loathing and tried to jerk herself to one side, but his companion Ruiz still held her tight by the other elbow and chuckled. "Diablo, mi amigo, it seems the rubia will be as frightened of your cojones as she was of that snake which so neatly ended the unesteemed life of Senor Haskins."
"What's this, amigos?" Brian stood before the two vaqueros, his lips curved in a pleasant smile, but his eyes darkened and narrowed. "Are you showing our guest real Comanchero hospitality, or are you trying to fool around with her? Just remember what I told you!"
"Oh, seguro, Senor Moss," Sanchez babbled, turning almost livid as he eased his grip on Dorothy Maxton's elbow, "we're only having a little joke, that is all."
"Si, a little joke, Senor Moss," Ruiz hastened to echo. "Is there much harm in telling her that mi compadre only wanted to show the Senorita his cojones?"
"Well now," Brian drawled, "so long as he didn't actually show them to her I guess maybe talking about them won't hurt too much. Sorry I was late for the first part of the show, Dorothy girl. But maybe now you've got an idea of how we stick together. You see that lying, cheating thieves don't get away with it."
"You-you're utterly despicable-and you're worse than the others, because at least you've had some sort of education," Dorothy flashed, color suddenly burning her white cheeks. "I don't want to see any more. At least have the decency not to make me watch such abominations!"
"You speak as if you were back in Sunday school, Dorothy girl. But you really haven't seen anything yet, you know. And what you're going to see next, from what Crazy Elk tells me, ought to be a mite more instructive, at least where you're concerned. I think we're just about ready for it too. By the way, Max wants me to tell you he's quite delighted with your visit to our little hideout. He's persuaded me to allow him to share my own special plans for welcoming you Comanchero style," Brian blandly informed her as he shouldered Sanchez out of his way and took hold of her right elbow. "Vamos, hombres! I don't need your help with the lady any more, gracias." The two Mexicans reluctantly moved away, not without giving the trembling blonde a greedy look that presaged danger for all three of her cherries. Brian smiled to himself, savoring not only their frustrated lust but also the captive's obvious abhorrence of the Mexicans. "Stand up straight, Dorothy girl," he whispered, "all the boys are looking at you. Sakes alive, the way I can feel your knees giving way under that thick skirt and God knows how many petticoats, you'd think you were next on the program." His fingers tightened round her elbow.
"Oh, G-God-let go of me-you-you coward-tying me up like this-" He gave her an ironic look, till she quailed before the triumphant promise in his eyes. "Oh, I'll untie you soon enough, and you can have all the elbow room you want, Dorothy girl, don't you fret. But the time isn't here yet. Here comes the really interesting part of the show, though. Maybe it'll give you some good ideas-especially if that big-busted chaperone of yours didn't get a chance to teach you what every girl should know on the way out here to get hitched to your soldierboy lieutenant."
Dorothy Maxton's face flamed and she sucked in her breath with an indignant gasp, but before she could reply to this demeaning sally, Crazy Elk had clapped his hands and called out, "Ho, Buffalo Hunter and Big Nose, bring forth the squaw of Swift Antelope and the white-eye squaw whose hair is red as the war fires!"
Grinning, the two Comanche braves strode to the bunkhouse where the culprits destined for this night's trial had been quartered, and dragged out the females accused of girl-fucking, amid the hoarse shouts and lustful cries of approval from the eager spectators. Brian's fingers tightened on the blonde's elbow and he licked his lips as he saw the pair forced forward toward the blazing campfires. Red-haired Kathy Lorson, a buxom twenty-seven-year-old trollop who had plied her trade in Dodge till she had been tarred and feathered by the righteous wives who had had the marshal raid the whorehouse where she worked, shrank back, her blue eyes wide with terror. Her calico dress had been ripped off one creamy shoulder and the angry red splotches of her Indian captor's fingers blazed on the satiny skin. Her wrists were corded behind her back with rawhide thongs, and her flaming red hair fell in a disheveled cascade nearly to her waist One of the renegades called mockingly out to her. "Damn shame you didn't let me hump you, Kathy, 'stead a gittin' an itch fer Bright Star's Injun twat! Now your humpin' days are over for fair, gal!"
The Comanche squaw beside her, wrists similarly bound, was tall and lithe and a year younger, her glossy black hair drawn sharply back from the top of her forehead and fixed into a long braid that dangled to her shinbone. She was naked save for breechclout and moccasins, and the proud uplifting pears of her titties, capped by dark-coral aureole the size of silver dollars and pouting, turgid, darker nipples, rose and fell agitatedly as she saw her husband standing beside Crazy Elk, wearing a single eagle feather in his headband of rattler skin, his face stolid, his arms folded across his chest. The play of the flames cast eerie, flickering lights on her smooth dark skin, highlighting the nervous flexions of bottom and thigh muscles as she moved reluctantly forward to the prod of her captor's lance at her shoulderblades.
As Bright Star was flung down on her knees by her Comanche guard, Swift Antelope stepped forward, seized her long braid and, severing it at the back of her neck with his hunting knife, flung it into the fire. A sobbing groan escaped the young squaw; it was the sign that her husband cast her out of his wickiup and that henceforth she was an outcast, viler than a leper. To Max Sandoval, who had moved beside Brian at the latter's right, Brian muttered, "Too bad that slinky piece of Injun cunt was barren. If she'd given him a papoose, the way his newest wife Moon Glow just did, chances are he'd probably settle right now for fantailing her pretty ass till it was raw and then getting her to spread her crotch on his blanket so he could show her that a prick is better for an itching cunt any time."
"That's the Comanche way, Brian boy, and you and I aren't changing it now, not if we want to keep our scalps and pile up the gold in the flathouse," the Comanchero leader whispered back. "Our unexpected guest seems to be a mite shocked at the proceedings. Make sure she takes them all in, though."
"Don't worry, Max, that's part of my idea for Dorothy girl," Brian chuckled. Circling his left arm around Dorothy Maxton's waist and gripping her left elbow tightly, he put his right hand to her trembling chin and hissed, "Now you watch real good, because if I catch you closing your peeper, I'll pinch your big fine titties till it hurts-and don't think I won't-see?" With this, he released her chin and made a gesture with thumb and forefinger at which Dorothy Maxton stiffened, then tried to recoil, with a stifled, "Oh-G-God-d-don't you d-dare!"
"I won't unless you turn your face away, so just remember that," he warned. Then he grinned as he saw his honey-haired captive shudder and try to draw herself up as if nothing had happened, for the rapid blinking of her dilated eyes was a sure sign that she was flustered as she had never been before in all her sheltered life.
Kathy Lorson's guard now proceeded to rip off her blouse and skirt, revealing her lush figure in the provocative undress of camisole and drawers, black cotton hose with flouncy purple rosette-garters, and the red-haired trollop burst into piteous tears as the impassive brave tore off the camisole and then-not without some fumbling which drew ribald encouragements from the avid spectators-the drawers. Cowering, both hands clapped against the dark-red thicket of her bush, she whimpered in numbing terror as the brave cuffed her across the mouth, then seized her by her mane of coppery hair and dragged her to a heavy wagonwheel, one of a pair connected by a guide-shaft, standing upright a few yards away from the throne-chair. Forcing her to stand, he quickly thonged wrists and ankles to spread-eagle her against the wheel. Bright Star, led to the opposite wheel by her guard, was fettered the same way.
The renegades had formed a gantlet, the whites and vaqueros opposite the wheel on which Kathy Lorson's shuddering body was stretched, the Comanches facing Bright Star's wheel. Now, at Swift Antelope's sign, two braves hitched the traces around a burro to the middle of the guide-shaft, then lashed the animal with switches. With a protesting heehaw, the burro moved jerkily forward, and the two wheels rolled their circles, the two naked tethered bodies following that inexorable pattern.
Belts, switches, even sticks of firewood whistled and smacked against the bare bottoms and thighs of the two Lesbian lovers. Kathy's cries rose at once, while Bright Star, grinding her teeth and closing her eyes, endured the equally savage flogging from the men of her tribe with typical Indian courage. Yet it seemed they whipped her harder than the whites and Mexicans did the shrieking redhead; before the burro had drawn the wheels halfway down that terrible gantlet, Bright Star's compact buttocks were bruised and bleeding. Kathy, swerving and jerking her flaming hips and grinding her bushy cunt into the hub of the wheel at every stinging lash, pleaded hysterically for mercy. To these entreaties, the men on her side of the gantlet responded with obscene jests upbraiding her for wasting her cuntrubbing on a squaw instead of fucking them; and often, as the turn of the wheel directed her head toward the ground, they sent their belts or switches darting down into the wide V of her straddled thighs to attack her cunt and asshole as appropriate punishment for that deviation.
Brian studied Dorothy Maxton's face throughout this public flogging, a sardonic grin playing about his lips. Her lips parted and trembling, her nostrils flickering, her titties rising and falling agitatedly, the blonde hostage stared with a kind of incredulous horror at the fire-lit scene, as at some hideous dream-phantasmagoria from which she hoped she would soon wake.
But when the burro reached the end of the double line and it was turned around to head back to the throne-chair, she shot him a frantic, appealing look and gasped in a choking voice, "F-for G-God sake, don't make me watch this abomination! Oh, to treat helpless women so savagely-you and your companions are no better than those lawless savages!"
"In many ways, worse, Dorothy girl," he chuckled, again reaching out to cup her chin and force her to keep her face turned to the spectacle which was about to resume-not so much to respite the two tortured sufferers as to give their tormentors time to catch their breath and redouble their grip on their weapons. "You see, we've more booklearning than the Comanches, and they've got more primitive ingenuity. So we combine what they've got with what we have, and keep our women guessing-just as you'll be doing soon enough, I figure."
"W-what do you mean by that, you wretched brute?" she panted.
"Whoa now, don't get skittish, Dorothy girl. I mean I wouldn't think-not just yet, anyhow-of having everybody watch how you'll carry on when you've got your personal problem to face. No sirree, I aim to enjoy that in my own good time. You'll prefer that yourself, I'm thinking, seeing as how your reactions are sure to be real new to you. But no more palaver now. Watch, they're coming back! And don't forget what I promised those big proud titties of yours if I catch you closing your eyes during a single lick they'll give those two wicked bitches!"
"You-you're unspeakably vile-oh God-to think of how those poor women must be suffering!" she burst out. "What did they do, to warrant such horrible torture?"
"You might say they consoled each other instead of their Injun hubby, Dorothy girl. That'd be putting it gently for a pampered Eastern-bred filly like you, I reckon. Later on, I'll explain it to you in plenty of detail, when you've more of a notion to occupy your ladies'-academy mind with the sort of things they don't teach back there. Steady now, or, so help me, I'll pinch 'em sore!" For Dorothy Maxton had jerked to one side, gasping in horrified shame, her cheeks furiously reddening, and Brian menacingly extended right thumb and forefinger like a claw to one of her heaving titties.
Now the Comanche braves had Kathy's sweating white back and swollen bottom and thighs to flog, while the Comancheros tried their flagellatory skill on the now moaning, writhing young squaw. The gantlet finished, the two women were untied and dragged in front of Crazy Elk, forced to kneel on all fours as a dozen eager volunteers now fettered their wrists to short stakes already driven into the ground, then lashed their ankled to another pair of stakes set three feet apart so as to straddle their thighs for the act of coupling.
Kathy Lorson slowly raised her tear-stained, contorted face to stare at Bright Star, who had been posed facing her. "Aw, Jeez," she panted, "I'm so goddamned sorry, B-Bright S-Star... I didn't want you to git hurt none 'cause of what we did... jist fer once, I was so tired a guys thinkin' I was easy... f-forgive me h-honey, please!"
The lovely Comanche squaw slowly lifted her ravaged face, her stoicism nearly at its end. With an effort, she forced herself to speak, "The sin was as much mine, fire-haired one. What we had was good. I will hold to that thought-ohhh!!"
Kathy saw her lover's eyes widen in horror, saw Bright Star wrench violently at her bound wrists. And then her own tear-blurred eyes rose beyond Bright Star's shuddering naked body and beheld what a Commanche brave was leading by a rawhide halter up behind her Sapphic partner; and it was her turn to cry out, raucously, in a voice vibrating with agonized stupefaction, "Ohhh noooo! Gawd, not the dogs! Ohh, Gawd, ain't there none a you guys that'll shoot me quick? Ohh please, I gave you guys a real hot lay, you know I did-do somepin fer me now, jist this one thing-oh, fer Gawd's dear sake, shoot me, don't let it be the dogs-awawooowwoooahhhrrrr!!!!"
For a vaquero had just led a second wild dog on halter behind Kathy Lorson's crouching, straddled, welted body and, squatting, rubbed a piece of raw meat against the victim's gaping cunt, then pressed it against the beast's muzzle. With a low whine, the shaggy wolf-sized canine furled its raspy pink tongue against Kathy's plump cuntlips, licking them as if they were a tasty tidbit, while the redhead shrieked insanely, frantically twisting her hips in a futile attempt to evade the revolting contact.
"Hey, lookit that brute gam Kathy!" a red-bearded renegade who had often sampled the redhead's opulent charms guffawed. "Now why the fuck didn'tcha cuddle up to Lobo 'stead a mixin' up with an Injun squaw, Kathy honey? Then you 'n me could still shag like we used ta!"
"Steady, Dorothy girl," Brian warned as the blonde hostage swayed against him, nauseated by what she saw. "You keep looking just the way I told you and no fuss, or you might just wind up out there yourself, hear? I mean it, girl!"
Again she shot him a frantic look of incredulous terror and loathing. Very pale now, she swallowed hard, then drew a long shuddering breath as his right hand again cupped her chin and forced her face toward the two crouching captives. Sandoval, who had lighted a fresh cigar, glanced over amusedly and muttered to his confederate, "Maybe when she finds out we're just going to stud her with two-legged cock instead of four, shell be so relieved she'll be grateful, Brian boy. Though she does look a bit peaked right now. Here, I brought out a canteen full of whiskey-give her a swig so she won't pass out!"
"Thanks, Max, not a bad idea." Brian uncorked the canteen, tilted it to Dorothy Maxton's trembling lips. "Drink all you can right now, and do it fast!"
"I-I don't w-want it-ohh stop that!" Even as she drew to one side to avoid the canteen, Brian had pinched her side with left thumb and forefinger. She regarded him with stupefaction, as if she could not bring herself to believe he would actually lay hands on her.
"When I tell you to do something, do it, Dorothy girl, or next time I'll pinch you where you won't like it at all! Now take a long swig!" he insisted, his voice harsh with his own mounting anticipation of the carnal duel soon to be waged between them. Helplessly, she groaned, then listlessly allowed him to tilt the canteen against her mouth, and managed to swallow a little before coughing and choking. Laughingly, Brian slapped her on the back. "Your first drink, guess it was, hm? Well, Dorothy girl, there's a first time for everything. Now keep a hold of yourself and watch, so maybe you'll remember what happens when a girl steers away from her man and goes chasing after another female in this stronghold. For all I know, you might just get that sort of urge, but as you'll see, you'd better try to control it!"
With this slyly obscene taunt, he took a swig from the canteen and handed it back to Sandoval; then, his left arm tightening round Dorothy Maxton's waist, his right hand cupping her trembling chin, turned his attention back to the spectacle.
Bright Star groaned and closed her eyes as the wild dog reserved for her emulated its companion by sniffing, then gouging its tongue against her yawning quim. Then with an angry growl, the animal reared up on its hind legs, jerkily moved forward to its human bitch, its bony, gleaming red prick stabbing into the young squaw's sheath as its front paws raked her sweating, lash-streaked back. And Bright Star's courage utterly vanished as the savage probe burrowed itself to the hilt; her body jerked violently and her head rose, eyes haggard with pain and shame as her canine mate dug torturingly along the sensitive vaginal walls to fix himself at the very depth of her womb.
But Kathy Lorson had only a moment to comprehend the infernal torment which her beautiful Lesbian sweetheart was suffering, for now a shout from the. onlookers announced the imminence of the wild dog behind her. Even as she squirmed and jerked convulsively, feeling the animal's tongue lave her yawning cunt, it now whined, reared up in the air and mounted over her with a snarl as it eyed its companion locked onto the sweating naked back of the groaning Indian squaw.
"Ahrrrr!! Owww, ohhhh, Gawd, Gawd, take it outa me, kill me quick, ohhh Jeez, it's rippin' me to shreds! Please, Swift Antelope, I'll be a good squaw from now on, you didn't lose nuttin"cause I let Bright Star love me up a little, honest you didn't-Eyahhhhrrrreeeewwwwouuuu!!! My Gawd, oh I can't stand it, oh, won't somebody shoot me quick, fer the love a Gawd? " The wild dog crouching over her had evidently found Kathy's warm yawning cunt a savory housing-place for its bony, febrile prick. No sooner had the animal arched forward to probe that rigid red dart between Kathy's pussylips than it began to fuck with a jerky rapidity that made the unfortunate young woman twist about on her knees, her titties wildly heaving as she wrenched at her bound wrists in a futile attempt to extricate herself.
"Kathy's really found herself a prime cocksmith!" a black-bearded desperado guffawed, nudging his half-drunken one-eyed crony in the ribs as he lurched forward toward the punishment arena, waving a nearly empty bottle of tequila. "Hey, dog, save some a that twat fer me, will ya? Goddamn shame to waste such a sweet piece a cunt-meat on a crummy dog, it sure is!"
But this praise of her fornicatory talents did not console poor Kathy Lorson; she did not even hear it, agonized as she was by the pistonlike, eviscerating thrusts of her canine lover's prick into the deepest recesses of her cunt, as well as by the scrabbling paws against her bare, sweating and now bleeding back as the animal's sharp claws ripped her tender flesh. Her voice became shrill, her words incoherent, and the tears of agony blurring her eyes hid the contorted face of Bright Star from her as all the world culminated into this hideous agony. The fetid, feral smell of the wild dog and its rutting growls and whines crazed her with terror, and her wrists were raw from their constant jerking at the rawhide thongs binding her to that ignoble self-offered pose. Her cuntwalls throbbed and contracted spasmodically from the searing probe that ceaselessly dug into her, pitilessly shoving up as far as her cervix, till she believed that fiendish prong must ultimately tear through the partition and come out of her asshole itself.
Half-fainting, she only vaguely heard the obscene roar of amusement that was lifted when both dogs seemed to attain climax at the same time, but she felt the hot jet of canine gism lashing the very bottom of her cunt, and she swayed under the animal's weight as the acrid stench of its ejaculation reached her flaring nostrils.
Then she felt the slosh of a waterbucket against her hips, felt the dog's prick reluctantly tug out of her quaking cunt, and with a feverish groan blinked her eyes. She saw two men pulling the young squaw's canine mate away from her shuddering body, then lead it away on a halter. And gradually the mocking, taunting obscenities of the crowd droned back into her ears, "Lobo sure madejaw shoot yer wad, baby!-Me, I'd a given a month's share of the loot on our raids to be in old Lobo's place jist then, Kathy honey. Cheer up, baby, mebbe you'n Bright Star'll run into a coupla randy coyotes along the trail yer both gonna take now!"
Now rough hands clashed the rawhide thongs at her wrists and ankles, dragged her to her feet, just as other hands were lifting Bright Star. She found herself kneeling beside the beautiful Indian squaw as Swift Antelope towered over them, his face contemptuous. Taking out his hunting knife, he reached with his left hand for the tumbled swath of Kathy's fiery-red hair and slashed it away close to her scalp, then flung the shining tresses into the fire as he had done with the braided plait of his young Comanche squaw. Turning his back on both of them, he strode away into the night.
"Miguel, Estaban, escort these two bitches out of the Basin and head them westward," Sandoval curtly directed. "A word of advice, you two. Don't try sneaking back, because the guards have orders to shoot you down if they catch sight of you ever again! Happy hunting!"
The two grinning Mexicans seized the panting, sobbing women and forced them onward past the campfires and into the darkness.
Dorothy Maxton's head was bowed, and her body seemed inert; only by sheer force of will had she managed to sustain herself through the obscene, unnatural ordeal. Perhaps fortunately, Brian had been so engrossed in the realistic fucking maneuvers of the two naked sufferers that he had not noticed she had closed her eyes midway through the canine copulation. His arm still round her waist, he turned to his right to question Sandoval, "Think they'll make it, Max?"
"Nobody ever has. No food or water, no settlement within a hundred miles the way they're heading. Best they can hope for is to stumble over a rattler, it'll be quicker that way. Hey now, you better look to our guest, Brian boy. Looks to me like she's fainted!"
"By God, if she hasn't!" Brian chuckled as Dorothy's head suddenly tilted back and she sagged against his circling arm. Stooping, he agilely caught her around the thighs and shoulders, hoisted her, turned back to the hacienda. "But I bet you and I know a couple of ways to bring her to, Max. Let's pool our imagination and see just how many we can find!"
Brian Moss lay the unconscious hostage down on Max Sandoval's sumptuous bed as the Comanchero leader followed him, having bolted the front door of the hacienda and declared an end to the evening's festivities. Ruiz and Sanchez, fumbling with their wide-brimmed hats, had followed, perhaps hoping against hope to have some fun with the senorita rubia, but a gruff dismissal from Sandoval indicated that it was not to be, and they wandered off to the edge of the campfires in search of some of the always available putas and camp followers who dispensed pussy freely in return for food and lodging and perhaps, if they managed to take some vaquero's or renegade's fancy, a bit of finery from the loot on the next raid.
"You've done yourself proud, Max," Brian chuckled as he looked around. The bedroom floor was covered by a brightly colored carpet, and at the window there were lace curtains with heavy green damask over-curtains. At one wall, there stood a huge, immutable, dark green and heavily padded settee, and a table nearby. The chairs against the other walls and in front of the table were all plush and velvet, with fringes and tassels. In the farthest corner from the bed, was a seat made to fit the space, where two people could comfortably sit and be almost entirely concealed by portieres made of red silken ropes that fell nearly to the floor. There were even antimacassars over the back of every chair. But the bed, stolen from a wealthy settler's home, was a masterpiece of elegance and luxury for such surroundings, with its canopy and four solid poster, even to a Jacob's ladder.
"I've always enjoyed the little comforts, Brian boy," Sandoval took another puff at his nearly finished cigar. "Had them back where I came from. Piling up gold out here is fine, but what's it good for it you can't have luxuries around? This Basin is barren enough for the devil himself, so when we go on raids, I tell the boys to bring back some gewgaws. As you can see, it comes in mighty handy when you're entertaining. But I'm afraid Miss Maxton isn't up to appreciating this cozy nook yet. Here, get a little brandy down her gullet. I'm taking you up on that share-and-share-alike speech of yours, you know, and I don't mind telling you my pecker's raring for action after watching Kathy and Bright Star get humped the way they did."
He had gone over to the table, poured from a brandy decanter into a tin cup and handed it to Brian, who had propped Dorothy Maxton up against the thick pillows. His left hand at the scruff of her neck, Brian pressed the rim of the cup to the soft rosy mouth, his eyes feasting on her pale, exquisite face, scanning the regular rise and fall of her titties and conjecturing what they would look like when she was husked of this cumbersome arsenal of clothing.
The honey-haired captive coughed, blinked her eyes, then shrank back against the pillows, color suddenly returning to her face as she saw Brian's sardonic face hovering so near hers, and Sandoval at the edge of the bed watching with a mocking little smile. "Well, now, that's better! For a minute there, I thought you'd decided to pass out for good and miss all the fun, Dorothy girl," Brian said lightly. "Here, get the rest of this down. Put some fire in your belly-because you're going to need it."
"N-no-I-I don't want it-where am I-oh-I-I remember-that horrible sight-those poor women-if-if you value your lives you'll send me back to Laredo," she faltered, sitting up, her palms down against the bed, recoiling as far as the heavy mahogany headboard permitted.
"I warn you, if you keep me here against my will, the soldiers will come here and punish you for your awful crimes!"
"You just don't understand, Dorothy girl," Brian shook his head and winked at Sandoval. "You're talking as if you were back at that fancy academy, making some elocution in front of all the happy parents of those nice gently bred fillies you went to school with. Let the soldiers come, I said before-well pick them off and that'll be an end of the trouble they give us. So let's forget that nonsense and get down to brass tacks. Dorothy girl, when I took a look through that peephole between my hotel room walls and yours this afternoon, I said to myself, there's the juiciest piece of poke-meat I've laid eyes on in a long while, even tastier than Elsie-and I think I can pass as a fair judge of comparisons, seeing as how your aunt and I got to rub bellies a couple of times while you were out gallivanting around the town finding out all about your fine lieutenant."
"Oggg! How-how dare you talk like that in a lady's presence! And-and I don't believe you, either!"
"You don't?" Brian drawled, again winking at Sandoval.
"I most assuredly do not! My aunt is a respectable widow, and she'd rather die than-than have anything to do with the likes of you!"
Ah, but you see, Dorothy girl, sometimes a man has powerful arguments that make the prissiest female listen to reason. Then, too, cases are different. Now you take your Aunt Elsie, for instance. Why, she as much as told me that she was hankering to have those five long years of widowhood wiped out. And naturally I accommodated her. Twice, to be exact. But of course, she wasn't a virgin to start with, so she knew deep down inside what she really needed was a good hard poke-"
"Stop it! I won't listen to any more, you filthy, despicable man!" Dorothy Maxton cried, covering her ears with her hands and twisting her scarlet face to one side.
Brian seized her wrists and dragged her hands away, then leaned forward till his mouth almost brushed hers, his eyes narrow and hard as he hissed, "Oh, you'll listen, Dorothy girl! Now as I was just saying, everybody's different. Take you, now. Twenty-two years old, Elsie told me. For a fact, she did, which ought to help convince you I didn't make it up about our being together. Well, out here in Texas, most of the Comanche and Mexican fillies are old women by then; they start opening their legs up for a man round about fifteen, wouldn't you agree, Max?"
"Sometimes younger than that, I've known cases," Sandoval chuckled.
"So you see, Dorothy girl, you're practically an old maid. So Max and I figure it's high time you felt a good solid cock ramming up that fluffy little nest of yours-"
"Ohhhh! How-how-how dare you talk to me that way! My fiance will demand satisfaction-you let me go-ohhh, my wrists-you bully, you dirty coward!"
She tried to kick and twist, but Brian readily mastered her, grinning with the joy of deliberate conquest which he meant to exact. "Satisfaction, is it?" he bantered. "I'll be glad to give him all the satisfaction he wants if he ever shows up in the Basin, Dorothy girl. But till then, I'm afraid you're the one who's going to give satisfaction. Isn't that so, Max?"
He released her, straightened, turned to the Comanchero leader as if wanting corroboration. "I'd call that a fair estimate of the situation, Miss Maxton," was Max Sandoval's obsequious parry. "Why don't you take over the chore of ringmaster now, Brian, and put our spirited filly through her paces?"
"Right, Max. I was just getting to that," Brian nodded. Then he turned back to the stunned honey-haired hostage, "No sense putting things off any longer, Dorothy girl, as the horse doctor told the farmer whose leg had to sawed clean off. Now you'll just do us the favor of getting down off that bed and taking your things off nice and slow. We're both gentlemen enough, you see, to give you plenty of time before we get down to cases."
"I couldn't have put it better myself, Brian boy," Sandoval grinned as he began to unbutton his Confederate colonel's coat and lay it carefully over the back of a nearby chair, then deftly loosened his cravat and carefully began to open the buttons of a fancy, long-cuffed white silk shirt.
Dorothy Maxton stared at both captors in turn, not able to believe the testimony of her ears. "Wh-what do you m-mean? Wh-what are you g-going to do? For God's sake, this ridiculous, high-handed nonsense has gone far enough! Now you take me back to Laredo, or you'll be very sorry!"
"If we took you back, Dorothy girl, without seeing you peeled down to the buff and horrawing you, we'd kick ourselves around the Basin for the rest of our natural lives," Brian smilingly declared. "As to what we're going to do, it's rather what you're going to do right now-and that's to start undressing. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"You must be insane to talk to me like that!" she flashed, her titties heaving as she clenched her fists and stared indignantly back at him. "I'm not one of those wretched creatures you had the gall to shame and torture, I'll have you know! I'm from an excellent family, and I happen to be betrothed to a very important military man. Why-why-I-I think he'd kill you both for saying things like that to me! And how dare that other man remove his garments in my presence?"
"Because, Dorothy girl, it's customary, when a girl gets fucked, for the man to be as raw as she is, so he can enjoy the warm feel of her bare skin," was Brian's cool retort.
"Ohhhh!!! You-you-you-" again her face flooded with hot crimson as she fought without success for an annihilating reply to this obscene declaration.
"All right, now that you've shown the proper indignation which can be expected from a properly brought-up Eastern filly and you've impressed us with your purity, it's time to get down to brass tacks, Dorothy girl. Get off that bed and start disrobing, I believe that's the word you Easterners use."
"I-I won't! I-I'd rather die!" she cried hoarsely, pressing herself back against the headboard with all her strength.
Brian shrugged. Taking out his jackknife, he leaned over the momentarily petrified hostage, grasped the neck of her over-dress with his left hand and deftly slashed it.
"Oh noooo! Stop it, oh my God, what are you doing?" She caught at his left hand, her eyes wild with terror.
"I'll put it plain to you, Dorothy girl," Brian told her, holding the knife in front of her contorted face. "Either you take off your duds by yourself, or I'll cut them off you. What's more, I'll call in a dozen or so of our boys-you saw them round the campfire, and some are a mite nastier than the two Mexs who took you out to see the fun, Dorothy girl. They'll not only help me, but they'll hold you down while Max and I give you your first fucking as a woman. Now, you've got your choice-which is it to be?"
Shuddering, she wrung her hands, her slim fingers twisting and whitening with the stress of this incredible dilemma. "N-no-" she gasped in a dying voice scarcely audible to Brian, "oh, in mercy's name-you can't mean such a vile thing! I-I'm a decent w-woman-I-I've never been with a man-not ever-and I-I'm promised to a fine man for whom I've saved myself-oh God-surely you don't intend-oh, no, I-I can get you ransom if you want-yes-Aunt Elsie brought along a thousand dollars-"
"A thousand dollars, Dorothy girl? Hell, I've thrown away that much and more at the poker table in less time than I plan to use fucking you," he chuckled. Then, his face dark and taut with impatient lust, his fingers tightening on the cut neck of the over-dress, he put the point of the knife to her pulsing throat and growled, "Get it through your head, Dorothy girl, talk or money won't get you out of husking down and being obliging to Max and me. Keep on squawking you're too pure for a fuck, and all it'll get you is a very appreciative audience to help us shuck off your duds and hold you down while we hooraw you. And that's not counting what the boys will want as their reward for the trouble you've caused them. Well now, want me to call them in and be your personal lady's maids?"
Her hugely dilated eyes were filmed with tears, her clenched fists trembled, the knuckles white as she tried to draw her soft throat away from the ominous prick of the knife. "N-no-" she finally breathed, "I-I'd rather die-oh my God, won't you have pity on me? I-I've never done anything to either of you, to-to be treated this dreadful way-oh, kill me instead-yes, yes, I'd rather die than-than let you-you-h-have me!"
"My, she's brave, Max. Suppose you go outside and call in the boys. Tell them we've got a skittish filly who's never been shucked down before and is asking for a little help," Brian turned to Sandoval.
"They'll be glad to volunteer, I'll guarantee," the Comanchero leader grinningly nodded as he turned toward the bedroom door.
"OH NOOO! WAIT! OH MY GOD, NO, DON'T-D-DON'T CALL THEM!" Dorothy Maxton shrieked.
"Well, then?" Brain urged. "Are you going to get off that bed and start peeling? And don't waste your breath talking about dying-first off, I never heard of a filly yet who died from being fucked, and second of all, we wouldn't be dense enough to waste a sweet piece of tail like you, Dorothy girl. All right now, what's your answer? " Tears ran slowly down Dorothy Max ton's flushed cheeks. "If-if I do-do what you-you want-will you promise you-you won't call those men or-or-h-hurt me?" she quavered.
"I'll promise nothing except that if you aren't off that bed by the time I count five, Max'll call them in!" he warned. "One-two-three-"
"Oh merciful heaven, is this r-really h-happening to me?" the honey-haired young woman sobbed as she tremblingly slid over to the edge of the bed and, steadying herself with both hands against one of the head posts, totteringly rose to her feet.
"That's more like it! Off with that over-dress first. For the life of me, I can't figure why you females bundle yourselves up that way, specially in Texas weather. That trailing skirt sweeps up all the dust on the street. Once you get used to our ways, Dorothy girl, I'll be bound you'll find lots more comfort in pants and a blouse. And you'd be surprised how practical pants are when you want to pee or take a crap."
"Oh, my God, d-d-don't talk like that to me!" she whimpered as she slowly stooped, drew up the trail of the pink silk over-dress and dragged the garment up over her head and shoulders, then let it fall to the floor as, bowing her head, she began to sob, crossing her arms over her swelling titties.
"That's just the beginning, you've got lots more to do. Get on with it, Dorothy girl!" Brian moved beside her, showing her the gleaming jackknife. Meanwhile, Sandoval was removing his shirt, then unbuckling the shining black belt of his uniform trousers. This done, he seated himself on one of the nearby chairs and began to tug off his dusty boots, his eyes glinting with concupiscence as they devoured Dorothy Maxton's shrinking, visibly trembling form.
Convulsively, one slim arm curved over her panting titties as she tried a last poignant appeal, "Dear G-God-not like this-oh, if you had a sister, w-wouldn't you pray men w-would show her mercy?"
"Good try, but not good enough, Dorothy girl," Brian lifted the knife slowly. "If I had a sister with that white skin and that juicy ass and that jiggling pair of knockers you've got, I'd be after her cherry too, damned if I wouldn't! Now save your breath, you'll need it, and get to your chores!"
With a pathetic little moan, the honey-blonde young woman slowly lifted the under-dress and let it fall to join the first discarded garment. Now the straps of her pink camisole could be see, the modest cut of the undergarment completely covering her titties but at the same time shaping out their almost heavy ripeness and firmness. Yet the entirety of her voluptuous figure was still only hinted at, thanks to the corset and petticoats which voluminously surged from her quivering waist.
"A bustle, by God!" Sandoval hoarsely exclaimed with a mirthless little laugh. "Damned if that doesn't take me back years to the genteel days before the war!"
"Elsie's got one too, but at first glance I'd say Dorothy's is just as big. Off with it, girl. Now isn't that plumb loco, Max? Think of all the botheration a girl has to go through just to pass a little water!" Brian joked as the helpless captive again clenched her fists and drew a long sobbing breath, while hot color flooded her tear stained cheeks.
Again she hesitated, staring at them both in the mute hope of reprieve. But an impatient gesture of Brian's knife hand decided her to rush her hands behind her and loosen the wire frame of the bustle which dropped to the floor with a clatter and drew a lewd guffaw from both her tormentors.
"Now it starts getting interesting, Brian boy," Sandoval chuckled as he tugged off his shirt, flexing his arms and letting the terrified young woman see his lean hairy chest, marked by an ugly purplish scar just below the left pap where a hastily aimed rifle bullet from a raided settler's gun had creased the flesh. "How many petticoats you reckon Dorothy's wearing?"
"Bound to be three, Max. A virgin, an Easterner and a dude-one for each. Let's see if I'm right, Dorothy girl. One by one, nice and slow, to spice our fun in watching such a prissy piece getting ready for bed!" Brian ordered.
"Oh my G-God! Oh, I-I beg of you-don't shame me this way-have pity on me-"
"I swear, that academy principal overestimated your brains for fair, she did! Can't you get it through your head that you're going to be fucked, come hell or high water, and that you're going to be bare as a jaybird when we get on top of you, Dorothy girl?" Brian scowled as he lifted the knife. "It's not too late to call for those volunteers, you know. Want Max to do it?"
"Oh no! No, please, no! Oh merciful God in heaven, I-I think I'm going to faint!" she quavered, bowing her head against one of the bedposts, while her shoulders shook with sobs.
"You do, and you'll wake up spread-eagled by the campfire, arms and legs astraddle as far as they'll go, and bare-ass ready to be fucked by the whole camp," Brian warned. "Now untie those drawstrings fast!"
Dominated by the harsh anger of his voice, Dorothy Maxton fumbled at the waistband of the neat lawn petticoat, loosened the strings and let it slither to her ankles. "Well, there's at least one more we can see," Sandoval commented. "But I'll bet you first poke it's the last she's got on."
"You're on, and I say there's one more after that! Show him, Dorothy!"
Once again he lifted the jackknife, and the frightened blonde again rummaged at the waistband; the lawn covering drooped, lingered a moment about her thighs, then joined the first to festoon her slim ankles.
"You lucky bastard!" Sandoval grumbled as still another petticoat remained.
"Not lucky, just knowledgeable about fillies, Max. Trouble with you is, you've settled for redskin pussy when you might just as well have imported a couple of hot-blooded Creoles from New Orleans. Not that I'm disparaging a Comanche bedpartner, but it takes the fine edge off a man's imagination if you keep it up. All right, Dorothy girl, you've just heard me win first fuck with you, so you take my orders and follow them if you don't want your pretty ass heated before your cunt is. Get that last petticoat off and walk over to the foot of the bed and stand there with your arms out at your sides!"
Her dark-blue eyes frantically glanced round, as if seeking either a weapon or some way of escape. Sensing her momentary rebellion, Brian moved beside her, his left arm circling her supple waist. "Or maybe you'd rather have me do the rest for you?" he taunted.
"Oh no, d-don't t-touch me!" she cried out shrilly as she backed away. Then, trembling fitfully, she forced herself to untie the last drawstring, and let the petticoat drop. Sandoval sucked in his breath to see her in the camisole, white lisle stockings disappearing under the knee-length legs of the white lace-trimmed drawers, and high-button shoes. For now the ripe yet nubile appeal of her figure was maddeningly suggested, lithe yet delectably rounded hips, long thighs yet not without the appetizing swell of voluptuous curves as they rose to merge into succulent, upstandingly rounded bottomcheeks. And the white skin of her arms and throat together with her tearstained, scarlet-cheeked visage made the Comanchero leader's prick throb and harden violently.
"So far so good, Dorothy girl," Brian dictatorially interposed. "Now walk to the foot of the bed and hold your arms out in cross, the way I told you to!"
With a choking groan, the young woman, bowing her head, slowly obeyed. Eyes closed, arms extended, the fingers convulsively trembling and wanting to clench, she seemed to offer herself in submission. But her lips moved in a silent prayer that somehow a merciful bolt of lightning would bring her that boon of death without the odious shame which now awaited her.
For a long moment, there was silence as both Sandoval and Brian appraised their exquisite victim. But the lethal bolt for which she prayed did not appear.
CHAPTER SIX
"Keerist!" Sandoval whistled softly as he studied the trembling captive who stood with arms in cross, eyes tightly closed as if, ostrichlike, she hoped that when she again opened her eyes, her two tormentors might have vanished. "You want to know why I've had to make do with Injun pussy, there's your answer, Brian boy. How often have you seen a piece of prick-hardening cunt like this at the stronghold? Not till now, and that even includes Eulalie, the one bitch I did talk into leaving the French quarter of New Orleans for our less populated Basin. No, not even Eulalie had style and a figure like this one!"
"Oh my God, my God," Dorothy Maxton moaned softly to herself, swaying and drooping her head.
Brian had put his victim's brief respite to practical use by stripping down to his drawers, though he had retained his boots, reasoning that the forcible conquest of this fastidious and mature virgin would be all the more odious to her when she perceived that he had kept on those same dusty boots in which he had ridden the stagecoach from San Antonio with her and her aunt. Now he recalled her to reality with the sibilant command, "Very nice posing, Dorothy girl. Now suppose you take off that camisole so we can get a good look at your tits!"
A wave of color burned in her milky cheeks, and this time, opening her eyes and turning to him, she gasped in a low, choking voice, "N-no-I-I won't!"
"Now here's something new, Brian boy," Sandoval chuckled. "You'll have to teach our charming Eastern guest that it's not good manners to refuse a Comanchero, not here in the Basin."
"Did I hear you say no just now, Dorothy girl?" Brian asked, feigning utter disbelief.
"Yes, you did! You horrible, degenerate creature, I won't satisfy your filthiness any longer-you-you may f-force me against my will, but I won't lift a finger to give you the slightest satisfaction. Go ahead and kill me, have your cowardly men in to-to do what you said they'd do-but I'll be just-just an inert body, and it won't touch my soul at all!" Again, fists clenched at her sides, she confronted him, her dark-blue eyes very wide and burning with newly found resolve.
"I do believe you're sincere, Dorothy girl," Brian smiled. "Very well then, since you're putting this matter of a fucking on an intellectual basis, I'll try my best to appeal to the fundament of your intellect. Come to think of it, it might even be more interesting that way."
As he spoke in a slow drawl to hold her attention, he slyly groped behind him on the night table for a rawhide thong. Then swiftly, before she could guess his intention, he circled behind her, caught one of her wrists in his left hand and twisted it so viciously that she cried out and bent down to ease the traction. In a moment, his right hand flashing to his mouth and gripping the thong in his strong teeth, he had seized her other wrist and forced it against the one already imprisoned. Despite her twists and attempts to kick, he gathered them in the vise of his left hand and used his right to bind them swiftly and tightly with the thong. Then, stepping in front of her as she pantingly twisted and tugged at the fetter, he put his hands to the neck of the camisole and ripped it completely off as she uttered a despairing shriek of mingled rage and shame.
"Damn if I don't wish to hell I'd been right about her petticoats, Brian boy," Sandoval said in a thick shuddering voice. "That's the finest pair of tits I've ever seen since I first found out what my prick was meant for, so help me!"
Finding herself naked to the waist and reduced to only drawers, stockings and high-button shoes, Dorothy twisted around and flung herself down over the side of the bed in a visible attempt to hide the magnificent mammaries which had drawn such high praise from the Comanchero leader. But not till both he and Brian had seen their sumptuous, proud rounds, the size of ripe cantaloupes, the satiny white skin lasciviously embellished by large dusky coral aureole in whose centers rose mouthwateringly well-developed pink nipples, as well as the exquisitely wide shallow niche of her bellybutton just above the waistband of the snug drawers.
For a long moment she remained thus, bent over, pressing her titties tightly against the cool white sheets of the wide bed, while her slim fingers frantically sought to reach the binding thong and loosen it. Brian moved softly toward her and, raising his right hand, dealt her a sonorous spank on the ripest curve of her right bottomcheek, saying, "You're at the right place for your fucking, Dorothy girl, but that's not exactly the position I prefer for breaking a cherry! Up with you so I can get those drawers off and put you on your back for a proper hoorawing!"
"No! No! I won't let you!" Dorothy Maxton screamed, shifting herself along the side of the bed till she had reached nearly the head. Then, straightening, she ran past the amused Comanchero aide toward the bedroom door, her titties bouncing vehemently. But Sandoval adroitly stuck out his right leg and tripped her to sprawl full on her belly with a despairing scream, and Brian was on her in a flash. Quickly seating himself on the middle of her back and effectively pinning her, he reached under her to loosen the drawstring of her batiste drawers, then seized the waistband at the sides of both hips and began to husk down her final garment. Maddened by the realization of what his portended, Dorothy Maxton tried to roll from this side to that, to kick her stockinged legs, but his weight pinned her to ineffectuality. Sobbing hysterically, she felt him prolong the descent of the drawers, inch by inch, till they were gathered at her knees to act as a further hampering fetter, showing her long, delectably supple thighs in unwrinkled gray lisle hose held up at mid-thigh by white elastic garters.
"Now we're ready to make that appeal to your fundament I was telling you about, Dorothy girl," Brian chuckled mirthlessly, his eyes feasting on the shrinking, contracting pale white-skinned globes of her virgin ass. They were upstandingly rounded, plumpest at the summits but nowhere was there an excess of flesh. Her muscular contractions, born out of overwrought modesty, proved the springy resilience of the full, solid cheeks, and served to highlight the gradually widening ambery crease which set them off. A bright pink splotch married the lilial perfection of the right buttock, visible evidence that his first intimate contact with her flesh had not been tender.
Nor was the next. Reaching behind to flatten her upper back with his left palm, thus completely immobilizing her except for her long, still flailing legs, Brian raised his right hand and brought it down with all his strength, choosing the left buttock so that each white shivering globe should be acquainted with the ignominy of manual chastisement.
"Ohh-you-you brute, you coward, you-owwwohhh!" Punishing her insult, his callused palm fell again, even harder and on exactly the same place, flattening the springy flesh which at once quakingly rose up, the skin angrily reddened and twitching uncontrollably.
Sandoval had lighted a fresh cigar which he clamped between his teeth as he leisurely lowered himself to a velvet-covered hassock, so that at least he might visually enjoy what was to be priapically denied him at the outset. As Dorothy Maxton turned her tear-stained, flushed and woefully contorted face to the right, he grinned companionably at her and nodded, indicating his approval of the procedure.
Smack! Smack! Smackkk! Calmly, deliberately, Brian applied three stinging blows on the young woman's lower right buttock, just above the base, where he knew from ample experience that the female behind is most sensitive. The convulsive kicking of the victim's long legs, together with her wail of indignation and pain, attested to his savoir-faire in such matters. With a deepening smile, he inflicted half a dozen emphatically sonorous spanks, liberally distributed over the base of her squirming ass, and was rewarded by her piercing yell, "Eeeyowww! Ohh, you dreadful brute, you monster! Kill me, but stop humiliating me this shameful way!"
"Your keen intellect seems a trifle clouded, Dorothy girl, but then I can appreciate the growing problems you find it necessary to cope with," he joked, shifting his seat on her back and extending his left palm as far back as he could to pin her down by a shoulder, while he ruefully blew on his right hand. "I promised you an appeal to your fundament, and by the Eternal, that's what you're going to get. Cry all you like, it'll help show me you're feeling what's happening to you!"
And with this, he resumed the spanking, attacking the upper curve of her right buttock with three or four carefully spaced spanks; then, after a prolonged pause, applied five hearty swats to the lower left cheek of her now furiously flaming behind. Grinding her teeth and closing her eyes, resting one tear-stained cheek on the thick carpet, Dorothy Maxton tried to display a dogged fortitude, but she could not stifle the anguished gasps that were torn from her each time his hand flattened against the resilient jut of her shuddering hindquarters, nor control the flurried kicks of her stockinged legs.
He paused again to gain full control of himself, for the excitement of stripping and dominating the mature honey-haired virgin was almost overpowering in itself, to say nothing of the sensual delight of feeling her bare bottom jerk and quake under his hand. Once again, during this respite, Dorothy Maxton uselessly kicked and tried to twist herself out from under him till the sweat of this futile exertion mingled with her tears.
Then again Brian's hand rose, hovered a moment over the victim's wriggling, furiously inflamed bottom, and descended sharply, wrenching a high-pitched cry of discomfort. Instantly, it fell again even harder, this time bridging the globes and pinching them right over the shadowy groove which led to both her sexual orifices. The white-hot pain made her kick her legs back wildly, the stockinged calves rubbing together as she seemed to grind her cunt against the carpet, and again her head rose as her tear-blinded, widened eyes stared unseeingly at the grinning Sandoval. "Ahhrrrr! You-you're hurting meee!" she shrilly complained. "Oh God, if-if only I were a man-"
"A consummation devoutly not to be wished for," Brian facetiously rephrased Shakespeare as he now paused again, this time to stroke the flaming hindquarters to determine their sensitivity as well as the degree of warmth imparted to their resilient flesh.
."Stop-you heartless beast-oh, Jabez, my darling, if only you were here to protect me and spare me this mortification!" Dorothy Maxton hysterically cried as she frantically contracted the muscles of her blazing ass in an attempt to diminish the fleshy prominence her tormentor was so salaciously appraising.
"Now there, Dorothy girl, I'm with you," Brian chuckled. "Having your soldierboy hero on hand to witness what is doubtless your first bare-ass thrashing would make me still randier. But in his absence, let's continue till my appeal to reason is at last convincing enough even to a prissy virgin like yourself!" And with this, he lifted his hand and brought it down five quick, stinging times, each directed against the tightening crease of her shuddering bottom just above the base, compressing the tender, inflamed flesh at the inner edges of those provocatively upstanding cheeks.
Dorothy Maxton's hips lunged and swerved, her legs again flailing the air as she shrieked, "Eeeeeyeeeowwwouuu! Ohh, stop it, stop it, I can't stand it!"
"Max boy, be kind enough to get my belt out of my britches. This jouncy ass is taking the starch out of my hand," Brian ignored the sufferer's plea.
"Always glad to oblige a friend, Brian boy," Sandoval slowly rose, his prick menacingly prodding out the crotch of his drawers. "Only don't forget, that goes double. I cede to your proper right to have first crack at Miss Maxton, but I'd hopefully remind you not to take all night about it." He bent to Brian's discarded breeches, tugged out the heavy black leather belt with its silver buckle and tossed it to his aide who neatly caught it in midair, then doubled it as he whimsically retorted, "Come now, Max, an older, more seasoned campaigner ought to have more stamina than a young buck like me. Besides, I'll be doing the groundwork for you, breaking Dorothy girl in for the ride. And now, my Philadelphia academy graduate, let's get on with the appeal, shall we?" So saying, he brought the doubled belt down across the tops of the young woman's jerking hips with an angry crack, followed it with an almost immediately applied lash across the base of her scarlet behind.
"Owooouuuuooooooh!! Ohh for God's dear sake, stop it, you're killing meee!" she wailed, turning her contorted face back toward her ruthless executioner as her legs kicked high, then flattened to drum her high-button shoes against the thick carpet.
Pitilessly, the doubled belt cracked down again, again and a third relentless time, all three lashes attacking the upper curve of the right buttock. The victim's hips plunged and bucked, first one leg and then the other kicked back, and Dorothy Maxton again raised her head, eyes bulging and glassy with anguish, as she hoarsely screamed, "Oh don't-ohh no more! For God's sake, have mercy, I can't bear such awful pain!"
"You really want me to stop tanning your big ass, Dorothy girl?" Brain's voice was choked and trembling with rut.
"Oh-y-yes-ahh-ohh, pl-please-n-no more," she moaned, bowing her head and bursting into convulsive sobs.
"Why, now, Dorothy girl, if it were up to me alone, I'd be willing enough. But there's Max's feelings to consider too, you see. So there's an alternative. Ready to pay attention to it, eh?" He punctuated the question with a wicked slash of the belt diagonally from the top of her right hip down over the crease and to the base of the flaming left cheek.
Again Dorothy Maxton's legs threshed about, her rumpled drawers having been husked down to her calves during her gyrations. "Eeeeeyahrrrrouuuuu!! Yes, yes, only stop, for God's sake, stop!" She hysterically implored.
"It's not up to me to stop it, Dorothy girl, as I just told you. I'm the advocate for Max as well as myself. But if you'll ask me to fuck your virgin cunt, I think Max will accept that as a pledge of obedience from now on-of course, if you renege when his turn comes around, I've no doubt hell want to coax you in his own inimitable style."
"That goes double in spades!" Sandoval panted, having resumed his seat on the hassock, puffing feverishly at his cigar.
"Well, now, there you are, Dorothy girl," Brian bantered, dangling the doubled leather over the victim's fiery-red bottom, smilingly watching her flinch as the belt grazed her burning flesh. "You've just about reached the end of the trail, unless, of course, you prefer to have your big sweet ass turned into raw rumpsteak. So it's up to you." His right hand rose, poised, then swept the belt down straight across the plumpest curves of her swollen bottom.
Madly, she jerked at her bound wrists, her stockinged legs kicking straight back in unison, then sweeping back to the floor where the toes of her high-button shoes drummed a feverish tattoo. "Aiii-ouuowwww! Ohh, I-I can't-"
"Then neither can I, Dorothy girl." The belt retaliated four noisily smacking times, failing vertically over the blazing globes, the last stroke visiting the shadowy crease itself.
Frenzied by the atrocious pain, Dorothy Maxton exerted all her strength and very nearly managed to unhorse her human rider, but Brian bore down heavily with his left palm, ground his sinewy buttocks down on her supple back and applied two more furious strokes with the doubled belt, these biting against the base of the young woman's left buttock.
"Ahrrrrrowww!! Ohh-e-enough-ahh-ohhh, I can't stand it, I just can't!" she wailed.
"It'll go on till you say what I told you to say, Dorothy girl. I mean it!" Again Brian swept the leather down over the very same place.
"Pleeeeeeease! Ohhahrrrrr! Ohh God, oh merciful God, I c-can't help myself-oh, Jabez, forgive me, I'm so weak-oh it hurts so-" Crack-crack! Sensing victory, the black-haired Comanchero aide applied two more cuts, each diagonally, and Dorothy Maxton's livid posterior lurched and twisted violently. "Eyahrrrr! Ohh God, yes, yes, do what you want-but oh no more!" she screamed.
"That's not what I told you to say, is it, Dorothy girl? I'm afraid you'll have to go the whole route of obedience if you want the belting to stop. Come now, I'm sure you remember the words?" Twice more the belt came down, slashing at the edge of her right hip and biting into the tender side.
"Owowouuuu! Ohh no, no, please-ohh, stop, in mercy's dear name! I-I don't know wh-what you want me to say-oh, have you no pity on me?" Dorothy Maxton shrilled as her loins jerkily ground against the carpet, first one leg, then the other, kicking back in a mad flurry.
"Your lack of retentive powers amaze me, Dorothy girl. I'd have supposed they'd taught you back in that fancy girls' academy how to memorize orations and poems for special occasions-such as this assuredly is," Brain quipped as he deliberately shifted his bottom over the weeping young woman's shuddering lower back and again let the doubled leather graze her woefully inflamed posterior. "However, just this once, mind you, I'll be glad to repeat them for you. But if you forget again, I'm afraid I shan't be as helpful. Now, pay attention, Miss! You're to ask me very nicely and humbly to fuck your virgin cunt. All right, now let's see how well you've learned your first important lesson as a graduate from the academy!"
The belt rose, posed a long moment in the air, then smacked loudly down over the base of Dorothy Maxton's shuddering left buttock.
Her body stiffened, her head rose, eyes completely blinded by huge tears, and her trembling mouth exuded the faltering, almost inaudible words," Ahh-ohahrrr-oh don't wh-whip me any m-more-oh t-take me-do-do it to m-me-"
"I don't think it's a question of obstinacy or forgetfulness, Brian boy," Sandoval hoarsely volunteered. "It's just that our charming guest has probably been brought up in an atmosphere where words like that are never heard. She's being quaintly modest, that's all, and you must admit such an attitude has a decided amount of charm."
"Granted, Max boy, granted. And I'm all for charm in its time and place. But fucking time is overdue, as I'm sure you'd be the first to point out, so she'll just have to make the transition by herself-or else!" Brian explained. The belt rose and fell, drawing a hoarse cry from the sufferer; then, after a pause, fell twice more.
"Ahrrrowowowouuuu!!! I'll say it, only stop, in God's dear name!" Dorothy Maxton screamed, writhing and kicking uncontrollably. "Ohh, f-fuck-my-v-virgin-c-cunt and make an end of it, I beseech you!"
Then, realizing the enormity of what she had just said, she pressed her tear-stained face into the carpet and wept.
Brian had lifted the sobbing blonde captive onto the bed and laid her on her back, then tugged off the tangled batiste drawers to leave her ready for her first fuck in just her gartered lisle hose and high-button shoes. Dorothy Maxton was crying softly now, her eyes tightly closed and her face twisted to one side. But the spanking and subsequent belting had been so painful that she could not control the involuntary spasms of her bottom and thigh muscles as she lay in passive submission, and to her own shame she felt herself squirm and arch-as if her voluptuous white body actually yearned for the odious act which she knew she was powerless to prevent.
"My apologies for wearing my boots in your bed, Max boy," he said hoarsely as he stood a moment beside the bed, staring down at the quivering honey-blonde, "but I'll have Dorothy launder the sheets, once I get her broken in properly."
"Oh-Jabez-Jabez, come for me, save me-oh, God, why don't You take me to You in Your infinite mercy now and spare me this horror, this abomination?" Dorothy Maxton moaned. Her posture was extremely irksome; the binding of her wrists forced up her heaving titties, and even the cool sheets of the bed did not soothe the burning torment in her quivering, swollen bottom. Yet, still, out of instinctive modesty, she had clenched her thighs as tightly together as she could; but she could not conceal the luxuriant dark-gold fleece which almost completely hid the fleshy pink lips of her cunt and ran along the perineal groove almost to her equally virgin asshole.
"Damned if I've ever seen a blonde, a real natural blonde, that hairy between the legs," Sandoval hoarsely commented. "It's almost worth dusty sheets to see that, Brian boy. But I'm going to keep you to your word, and it'll be a treat to see Miss Dorothy handle the domestic chores of this hacienda. I wonder if she's been taught how to cook."
"We're going to find out a good deal about her talents, Max. But everything in its own sweet time. Now let's see if I can't make our lovely guest forget her sore ass."
Brian had removed his drawers and now, in just his boots, glanced down at his bulging, dark-veined prick which thrust out in full erection, the lips of the meatus twitching to presage the furious load of spunk he had retained for Dorothy Maxton's initiation.
His sinewy fingers set down gently on her shoulders, and he grinned as he saw and felt her flinch, heard her suck in her breath to steel herself for the unknown. Then slowly he put his mouth to the quickening pulse-hollow of her white throat and kissed it lingeringly. Her body tried to flatten, compress itself, and his fingers tightened their grip to let her know that all her efforts would be futile.
"You taste good, Dorothy girl," he muttered huskily. "Smells a little like verbena-guess you use that or some kind of sachet in the drawer where you pack your unmentionables. And it's spiced with a little fear-sweat, which always makes a pretty girl taste better at fucking time."
"Ohh-G-God!" she gasped, trying to twist her face away even further, her body stricken with a violent convulsive shudder.
He chuckled knowingly, then kissed her collarbone, and then began to trace a leisurely pathway with his lips down to the erratically heaving rounds of her titties till he had reached the valley. Her feet scuffed at the sheets and her shoulders jerked; compressing her lips she tried ineffectually to stifle the whimpering gasps which surged at each of his prolonged and cunning kisses.
Pausing a moment and turning back to wink at Sandoval, Brian resumed his preliminary dalliance. His fingers still gripping the young woman's shoulders, he grazed her left nipple with his lips, then took hold of it and noisily sucked the crinkly tidbit.
Dorothy Maxton uttered a strangled cry, "Ohh d-don't-don't sh-shame me like that-do-do it to me and g-get it over with-oh God, I want to die! I want to die!" Her face twisted to the other side now and she drew up one leg and pressed the inner curve of her white thigh over her hairy mount. The agile muscles of her beautifully shaped long legs stood out, flexing violently with her emotional stress.
"Hell, I might as well be comfortable and more companionable, Dorothy girl," he joked as he swung himself onto the bed beside her. Then, crouching and clutching her satiny hips, Brain bent his head and implanted a loud smacking kiss on her bellybutton.
"Ohh noo! Please d-don't! Oh, Jabez, Jabez!" Dorothy Maxton sobbed, again turning her face and keeping her eyes closed desperately tight.
Now, delicately protruding his tongue, the black-haired renegade began to lick her quivering belly, but for the time limiting himself to the area between her waist and the soft wide sensitive niche of her navel. Her face scarlet, tears seeping out from under her closed eyelids, the victim bit her lips to hold back what she knew would be only useless protests, but she could not control the spasmodic flexions of her legs nor the quickened rise and fall of her titties. Her left nipple glistened with his saliva, the first real sign of her carnal subjugation.
Now again he paused to study her reactions and, with another wink at his fascinated, red-faced crony leaning forward on the edge of the hassock, turned on his left side to the shuddering young woman. His left hand edged under her right hip, and Dorothy Maxton uttered a feverish little cry as she tried to press herself down into the sheets to evade this contact, "N-no-ahh-don't-oh please d-don't treat me so-sh-shamefully-oh dear God, why don't You let me die now?" Forcibly, his hand found the resilient summit of her buttock and clutched it to control her, while his other hand now rose to stroke the outer curve of one of her titties with a gentle yet insistent rhythm.
Restlessly, Dorothy Maxton squirmed and writhed, her head now tilted back till her throat was a taut white arc, her chin trembling uncontrollably. Her lips were white, thin lines of agonized protest as she endured Brian's calculated wooing. But even in her brooding, cumulating shame, she found herself irrelevantly wondering why he did not at once crush and master her, why he did not "ruin" her-that euphemistic term which she had often heard her aunt use to describe the carnal coercion of an unwilling female.
Though the feel of her warm white quivering flesh and the sight of her shuddering repugnance maddened him, Brian pursued his deliberate plan. His right hand moved to her other tittie, lingeringly caressing the outer curve first, then the inner curve and then the underside, while the bound naked captive gasped and shuddered, clutching her thighs together with a supreme muscular flexion. Now he bent his head to her bosom, and once again his tongue emerged to flick the satiny skin with first slow sweeps, then rapid little touches whose friction made her skin twitch and shiver. Meanwhile, his other hand edged firmly under her behind till it palmed the sinuous groove between the cheeks, so that he could feel the still evident warmth of the thrashing he'd administered as well as the instinctive tightenings of her bottom muscles. Dorothy Maxton groaned aloud at her ravisher's audacious manipulations of her chaste, hitherto untouched body," Oh-Jabez-Jabez-" Halting his caresses a moment and bending his head close to hers, he taunted, "Now that's right unhospitable of you, Dorothy girl, wanting to be with another fellow when you've got one about to fuck you right now. Or maybe you're wishing it could be your soldierboy skin to skin with you right now. In either case, I'll do my level best to keep you occupied. And maybe someday, who knows, you'll get the chance of making comparisons."
With this, his right hand cupping her tittie, he put his lips to the nipple and flicked it lightly with the tip of his tongue. At once Dorothy Maxton groaned and flung herself over onto her right side away from him.
"Oh no you don't!" he chuckled as he applied a vicious pinch to the tender groove between her swollen buttocks, then gripped her shoulder with his right hand and forced her back flat on the bed. "Time enough to buck and kick when you feel my harpoon in that tight cherry of yours, Dorothy girl!"
"You-you filthy b-beast-to-to torment me so-oh Jabez, my poor darling, if only you could avenge my sh-shame!" Dorothy Maxton whimpered.
"If your Jabez is any kind of red-blooded man, Dorothy girl, I'd be willing to bet he'd be fighting Max here for seconds with you, seeing what a squirmy white hide you've got and how you fidget when a man gets familiar with your tenderer parts," Brian joked. Again his tongue flicked her turgid nipple, his left hand now gripping the edge of her right hip to maintain her in position. His right hand recommenced its lingering palpation of her belly, savoring her quickened breathing, the reiterative shiverings of her flesh.
"Damned if I ever saw a randy bastard spin out a fuck the way you're doing, Brain boy," Sandoval grumbled as he nervously relighted his cigar. "I ought to have brought Soft Doe or Lakeetah, that cute new Nez Perce bitch Miguel found out in the desert and brought to our stronghold, in here to take my edge off. I would have, too, if I'd know how much time you were going to take popping Miss Dorothy's cherry!"
"A little patience, Max," Brian counseled as his right hand crept down to the shuddering captive's abdomen, just where the dark-blonde ringlets of her bush began. "This isn't Injun pussy we're dealing with, you know. This is prime Philadelphia cunt, untouched and untutored, and it calls for special attention."
"Oh my God, won't you stop such horrid talk? Oh Jabez, Jabez, I wish I were dead!" Dorothy Maxton's voice rose shrilly. As Brian's hand slyly descended to the thickening foliage of her bush, she again tried to lift one leg and clamp it over her cunt to prevent the ultimate degradation.
"I see I'll have to get down to brass tacks with you, Dorothy girl, the way you're trying to cover up that hairy little nest of yours," Brian told the young woman as he now mounted over her, his throbbing prick swinging menacingly over her shrinking loins. Now his left hand gripped the back of her neck and his right hand moved between their bodies to find her cunt. Slyly, with his forefinger, he pressed through the alky tendrils to touch the fleshy pink lips of her vulva.
"OH NOOOO! OH DON'T! FOR GOD'S SAKE, HELP ME! OHH JABEZ, I DON'T WANT HIM TO! AHH, STOP IT, YOU COWARDLY BEAST, YOU-YOU ANIMAL!" Dorothy Maxton shrieked, her head turning restlessly from side to side, and now her dark-blue eyes were supremely widened. She could feel his hard hot prick rubbing against one inner thigh, the presentiment of what was to come, and she arched and writhed, trying vainly to pitch him off her shuddering nakedness.
Now in complete charge, Brian paid no heed to her plaints or insults. Even though this merger of their naked bodies taxed his self-control to the utmost, he continued the sexual attunement of his beautiful victim. His mouth pressed just below her left nipple, his tongue rubbing the quivering warm flesh, his right forefinger now began to tickle the rims of her cuntlips. Eyes bulging and glassy, her nostrils shrinking and flaring, Dorothy Maxton suddenly turned her face to one side and ground her teeth together to suppress her cries, trying at the same time to spread her thighs to ease the relentless dig of his prick against her tender flesh. He could at that moment easily have thrust himself into her unguarded cunt, but purposely refrained.
For now his forefinger entered the twitching cavern to find the dainty button of her clitoris, secretively concealed in its cowl of pink flesh, and began to flatten it.
"AHH-D-DON'T-OHH GOD-WH-WHAT ARE YOU DO-DOING TO ME-OH STOP! I DON'T WANT YOU TO TREAT ME SO HORRIBLY! OHH GOD! OH LET ME DIE NOW! JABEZ, MY DARLING, I CANT RESIST, I CANT, OH HELP ME, OH GOD, WHY CANT I DIE?" she screamed.
"Because you're coming to life for the first time, Dorothy girl," he quipped, then put his tongue to her right nipple and began to rub and flatten it, exactly emulating the action of his buried forefinger. Her eyes rolled piteously as if seeking some invisible savior; her belly fitfully jerked against his, and her titties rose and fell in shuddering agitation. Brian increased the tempo of his frigging, rolling, flattening, tickling and rubbing the swelling nodule of her clitoris; he began to alternate his tongue on her nipples, plying each with darting flicks, with an occasional sucking kiss, before moving to the other darkening, swelling tip. Maddened by the varied siege of her most intimate parts, Dorothy Maxton wildly tugged at her bound wrists, now tried to clench her thighs, to twist or roll from side to side, but all in vain.
"Christ, give it to her, man," Sandoval panted, clutching his swollen prick and digging in his fingernails to hold back his rising gism, "I wouldn't keep a friend waiting like this if I were in her saddle!"
"I'm getting it ready for you, Max boy, and you'll appreciate my groundwork all the more once you ride this spirited filly," Brian hoarsely retorted. "Dorothy girl here is just about primed, aren't you, honey? I can feel that tickler of yours getting hard as my cock, and that's a fact!" His forefinger rubbed quickly back and forth, and the blonde captive stiffened, her head turning back and forth, her mouth gaping in a choking, wordless cry. Now bending his head, he roamed his tongue over her waist and belly, only to return to her left nipple, which he nibbled with his teeth.
Now, to complete the preparations, Brian released her neck and slid his left hand under her bottom. Suddenly the young woman's head rose, a look of horrified shame and stupefaction contorting her crimsoned face. "OH DDDDDONT DO THAT TO MEEEEH OH TAKE IT OUT!" she shrieked, and arched and jerked madly under her assailant. He had deftly goosed her, and was now working the tip of his forefinger in past the agile ring of sphincter muscles till he could feel the walls of her asshole convulsively clamp against this shocking intrusion.
Now both forefingers worked in unison, while his mouth sucked lingeringly at the young woman's palpitating, darkened nipples. Beside herself, Dorothy Maxton could only utter hoarse, sobbing gasps and moans, her bottom frantically lifting from the sheets, her hips twisting as she tried to remove this new atrocious goad.
Sandoval had clamped his hand over his prickhead, his face a dark mask of frustrated lust. He saw Dorothy Maxton's high-button shoes gouge and thrust at the rumpled sheets, saw her head rise, then fall back, then rise again, her eyes staring and her mouth gaping.
"Hold your horses, Max, I'm ready to start her off being a woman," Brain called. Shifting himself over the distraught victim and using his already imbedded right forefinger to pry apart the moistening, fleshy lips of the vulva, he thrust his prick into the readied channel and pressed forward.
"Damn but you're tight as a rawhide pouch left out in the sun for a week, Dorothy girl," Brain panted, wriggling his left forefinger inside the young woman's asshole and making her jerk and writhe to facilitate his penetration. "Now I can feel your cherry! Get ready, girl, your time has come!
With this, he steeled himself and dug forward. Dorothy Maxton's contorted face rose again as she stared directly at Sandoval, then her head tilted back and a prolonged shriek was torn from her as Brian felt the obstacle grudgingly yield, then give way, and hafted her to the balls with his aching prick.
Working his finger in her asshole with a slow, regular rhythm, he timed his fucking to that maneuver, as with slow, deliberate digs he pressed home to the hilt, then as slowly withdrew to the brink of her cunt, only to harpoon her to the full length of his weapon. Sweat beaded the young woman's forehead, as it did the silky tufts in her armpits; convulsively, her hips lunged and squirmed as both her holes were frictioned, gradually waking vague tremors of sensuality in her virgin depths.
His lean jaws clenched, his eyes closed, Brian worked her till he felt the spunk bubble up from his balls and demand release. The quaking of her cunt walls now added to his own self-imposed torment. And then, when another thrust deep into her tight warm cunt must inevitably mean explosive climax, he forced himself to draw completely out and to kneel up, drawing in new breath with shuddering gulps. Now, kneeling astride her at the waist, he crouched forward, grabbed both titties in his hands and pressed them tightly against his bulging, blood smeared prick, making a satiny vise for his fuck-friction. Then swiftly he rubbed himself back and forth till with a shout of triumph, he felt himself burst, spattering her crimsoned, tear-stained face with gobbets of thick spunk.
"There!" he gasped as he clambered down from the bed. "I've primed her for you, Max. Don't feel too bad about not being first with her-I guarantee you Dorothy girl's cunt is the tightest I've ever ploughed!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Where do you think we ought to put Miss Dorothy up for the night, Brian boy?" Sandoval toweled himself as he stood beside the bed on which the naked blonde lay, now rolled over onto one side, her eyes closed, her lips murmuring inaudibly. For Dorothy Maxton, finding herself still alive was almost intolerable, it meant that she must live with the awareness of the shameful degradation done not only her chaste spirit but also her sheltered flesh which had so inexplicably betrayed her.
"There 8 not too much left of the night at that, Max. I'd say about four hours or so till sunup, and you'll want to be sending someone into Laredo to find out just how much the soldierboy hero misses his intended, I'd imagine?"
"Good idea, Brian. The longer we keep her here, the more nervous he's bound to get. And I'd like to know just how far hell go in risking his whole command to bring back one civilian-even granting she's one of the best fuck-pieces I've put cock to in longer than I care to remember," the Comanchero leader grinned. Winking at Brian, he flicked one end of the towel at Dorothy Maxton's still reddened rump and made stinging contact. With a wail, the victim quickly rolled over onto her back, then crossed her thighs as high as she could to cover up the matted, dark-gold tufts of her despoiled cunt.
"It's a bit late for girlish modesty, Dorothy girl," Brian quipped. "But you've earned a few hours of privacy, at least till you start your first day in the stronghold. Max, I'd recommend letting her attend to nature's needs right now in your fancy bathroom, and then lock her up in that narrow closet you used to let your New Orleans slut keep her laces and flounces in. Then tomorrow morning, she starts earning her keep for fair. You know our law-you made it, after all. No free room and board for idlers; everyone who draws even blanket room and a share from the cooking pot contributes work or service here in the Basin."
"You're right, as you always are, Brian boy! All right, Miss Dorothy, go have yourself a turn at my private toilet. And just this once, I promise Brain and I won't watch. But well leave the door open, just so we can be sure you won't try any tricks!"
"A-aren't you-you g-going to let me go-n-now that you-you've had wh-what you wanted?" she quavered, her lips trembling. Discounting the voluptuous opulence of her white body, she looked at this moment exactly like a little girl screwing up her face and about to cry over a parental denial. The contrast was so incongruous that both men burst out laughing.
"You've an admirable sense of humor, Miss Dorothy," Sandoval sallied. "But come now, show a little more realistic common sense. You've been fucked just once by each of us; now I submit that hardly constitutes our having what we wanted. If anything, Miss Dorothy, it's only given us a taste for a great deal more and under more diversified circumstances."
"I couldn't have phrased it better myself, Max," Brain chuckled. "Here, toss me that towel. I'll sheer Dorothy girl to the privy so we can all get some much-needed sleep. And I'm more in need of it than either of you two, seeing as how I came up on the stagecoach from San Antone, to say nothing of the energy I spent on Dorothy's ripe-assed Aunt Elsie."
"That's right, I'd forgotten about that," Sandoval chuckled as he tossed the wet handtowel to his crony. "How does she compare with Miss Dorothy, would you say?"
"The difference between night and day, Max. Elsie's needs are more primitive, but that's only to be expected. After all, Dorothy didn't know what a prick was until tonight-isn't that right, Dorothy girl?"
Ohhhhhhh!!" Again the young woman's face turned a furious scarlet. "B-but how long do you intend to-to keep me here against my will?"
Brian's lean face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he moved toward the bed. "You've just said the magic words, Dorothy girl. Against your will, is it? By the Eternal, you'll stay here till it's of your own free will, so it's for you to set the time limit when that'll be!"
"Then it'll be never! You horrid, despicable ruffian, you c-criminal! I'd die before I ever g-gave myself to you willingly! Yes, you brutal coward, you-you forced me, because I'm weak and a helpless woman-but if my Jabez were here to defend me-OWWW! OHH STOP! OHH NOT THERE! YOU'LL KILL ME! EEEYEEEOWWWWOUUU!! STOP, STOP, I'LL GET UP, ONLY STOP!"
Brian had drawn the towel tight in both hands and let fly with two swift, smacking and accurate flicks at her left tittie, the second making the nipple dance. Maddened with pain, the blonde sufferer rolled over and over, and as he pursued her by adding two more stinging flicks at her inflamed bottom, fairly flung herself off the bed onto the floor, where she lay wildly sobbing.
"That ought to have bumped all the gism out of her cunt, Brian boy," Sandoval was pulling his drawers back on and hunting a fresh cigar. "Hope she didn't hurt herself too much, though. It'd be a shame if that big, juicy white ass and that tight box of hers got put out of action for what I think you've got in mind."
"No fear, Max, thanks to that thick carpeting of yours. I'll help her up and steer her to the privy. All right, Dorothy girl, up with you now!" Brian bent and, twisting his fingers into the thick Psyche knot of honey-colored hair, unceremoniously yanked.
"Eoooowouuuu-you're hurting meeee!!" she shrilled as she stumbled to her feet.
Tightening his hold and applying half a dozen brisk open-handed smacks against her flaming bottom, Brian marched her into the ornate bathroom, turned her and sat her ignominiously down on the toilet seat. "Now don't take all night emptying your bladder or your bowels, whichever you have to do, Dorothy girl," he warned, "or I'll take my belt to your titties this time and paint them the color of the setting sun!"
Releasing her hair, he moved to the threshold of the bathroom, grinning at her woebegone, almost ludicrous appearance. Closing her eyes, Dorothy Maxton bowed her head and burst into racking sobs; at this moment, she deemed herself to have attained the very nadir of degradation, and perhaps, considering what had already taken place, it was as well for her waning peace of mind that she could not dream what was yet in store for her.
Meanwhile Sandoval had gone into the living room to bring back a cut-glass decanter of oak-barrel-aged whiskey, part of the loot from a recent raid against Descanto, a thriving miners' town some twenty miles north of Laredo. "A nightcap, Brian boy, to toast an excellent day's work," he proposed as he took a vigorous swig, smacking his lips with gusto, then handed the decanter over to his black-haired confederate.
"Why, thanks, Max, always happy to please the big boss," Brian retorted as he tilted the decanter to his lips. "Now my idea is to send Swede Thorson into town in a day or so to see how the land lies. He's one of the few of us who can come and go without too much attention from the boys in blue, and besides, hell be wanting another spell in Widow Mulvaney's bed."
"Oh, yes, that handsome brown-haired heifer who took over her man's saloon when he was stupid enough to get himself knifed by a dance-hall floozie. I wish you could use your persuasive powers, Brian boy, to get her to follow Thorson out to the Basin. I wouldn't mind using her tits for a pillow myself on a cold night," Sandoval chuckled.
"No chance, Max. I mean, about getting her to sell the saloon and share our Robin Hood life," Brian grinned as he accepted a cigar from the Comanchero leader, bit off the tip and spat, then put a lucifer to the broad end. "From what the Swede tells me, she just likes prick and never got enough from her hubby, he being damn fool enough to go skirt-chasing and passing up what he had in his own bed. So you could wangle a shag from her easy enough. But she's too damn independent to sell the saloon. Hell, that's where she meets the pick of her bedfellows, and besides, hating the Army the way she does, she's a hell of a lot more useful to us where she is."
"That's right, I'd forgotten that side of it, Brian boy. Trust you to have the lowdown. It was a lucky day for us all when you took a hand at that crooked faro table in San Antone three years ago."
"You'd have done the same for me, Max, and you know it. Took me only a couple of hands to see the dealer was in cahoots with the owner to lift your poke and have the bartender shotgun you down when you got the wind up."
Sandoval shook his head, reached for the decanter, sat down on the hassock and took another lengthy swig. "Fastest draw I ever watched, and that's no lie-even better than mine. Though my first thought was, you were pulling on me and I couldn't figure why. Then the dealer tipped me off by yelling, 'He's killed Joe, boss!' and went for his derringer."
"Never got it out of his sleeve, either. You were pretty fast yourself that night, Max. Here, let's have that decanter. Fucking's thirsty work, I always say."
"You're right about that. Well, we've had three good years, Brian boy. Sure you don't miss running a table yourself? "
"Only once in a while, when I see a sucker take a seat at the Widow's saloon." Brian's face hardened. "Then I remember that pious deacon back in Abilene who had me run out of town because I cleaned his puke-guts of a son. How the hell was I to know the lily-livered bastard had lifted his old man's dough to make a killing and get free? Well, all in the turn of the cards, I suppose. But you and the Basin have been good to me, Max, and I've got no complaints. What the hell-it's time for Dorothy girl's bedtime, so I'll go pull her off the potty. This time I won't wipe her. But starting tomorrow, as I told her, she starts to earn her keep every which way."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dorothy Maxton groaned and blinked her swollen eyes as the creaking of the closet door dragged her out of an exhausted, fitful dozing. She lay on her right side, knees drawn up almost in a fetal position, for the bare-plank flooring was much too narrow to permit lying full-length. Slowly, painfully, she raised her head, her eyes still too blurred from constant tears and fatigue to focus clearly, and she could see only the vague outline of a man's body.
"Ohhhh!" Now she remembered, and tried to pull her knees still further toward her to cover her cunt. It was the squat vaquero Sanchez, one of the two Mexicans who had taken her out to watch the terrible trials and punishments last night-or was it an eternity ago?
"Carramba! But what a strange place the senorita rubia has chosen for her siesta," the vaquero sniggered. Doffing his sombrero, he gave her a mocking little bow. "It is time to wake up, por favor, muchachita.'"
"What-where-oh God-oh my God-yes-I know-where-where are they-" she stammered, her voice dull. Her lips were dry, and her throat felt dreadfully parched. And there was a throbbing ache between her legs, awareness of which made her gasp out again and then blush violently. She remembered. After-after they had both h-had her, that black-haired devil had taken her to the bathroom, and then he had pinched and slapped her seat and pushed her into this closet and locked the door, wishing her sweet dreams. Oh, the unmitigated beast-oh, wait till her dear Jabez comes for me, he'd avenge her! Of course he'd find her. He'd know the Comancheros had kidnapped her; they were the only ones capable of such barbarity. But, oh God, how dreadful it would be to have to tell him what-what had been done to her. They had spoiled her forever now, for Jabez or for any other man. No decent person would want to marry a ruined girl. She had come all this way to be married to her true lover, and now it would never happen. Oh, if she were only a man, she'd gun those filthy beasts down for what they'd done to her life!
"Ah, the senorita wishes to know where the Senores Sandoval and Moss are, verdad?" Sanchez looked solicitous. "But they are here, waiting for you, muchachita!"
Dorothy Maxton shuddered, bit her lips. She tried to rise, but her muscles were too cramped, and she felt the numbing bite of the rawhide thong which still pinioned her wrists behind her.
Sanchez turned round. "Am I to help the senorita, mi Colonel?" he deferentially inquired.
"Better ask Senor Moss, caballero, he's calling this play," she heard that hated drawling voice with its unmistakable Southern accent respond.
"Seguro! And what am I to do, Senor Moss?"
"Why, by all means, help the lady, Sanchez. But make her understand that here in the Basin, there's payment for everything."
"Yo comprendo!" the vaquero grinned. Turning back to the closet, he wheedled, "You have heard the senor, muchachita. Do you wish me to help you stand up?"
"No!" Dorothy Maxton gasped. Grinding her teeth against the twinges of her protesting muscles, she began to inch herself forward on her side; then, finding it too difficult, rolled over onto her belly and commenced the ignominious maneuver till at last she felt the thick carpet rub against her thighs and cunt. With a groan, she lay motionless, closing her eyes.
"Well, good morning, Dorothy girl!" Brian greeted her. He, like Sandoval, was dressed as he had been last night and stood beside the Comanchero leader. "Your bottom is almost as white as it was before I fantailed it, I swear! Don't you agree, Max?"
"I do indeed. In fact, I don't think that closet was ever more delightfully occupied. I'm not quite sure, though, that I'm accustomed to saying good morning to a charming guest while she's laying flat on her face on the floor."
"It's because she's still a bit shy, Max. But well rectify that in short order," Brian laughingly retorted. "Get up, Dorothy girl, it's past ten in the morning, and we've things to do." With this, he bent to the prostrate young woman, lifted her up by the hair as she cried out in pain. "Up at least on your knees, my prissy Philadelphia hoyden. There now, that's better. Now listen carefully. Max and I are going to send someone into Laredo to find out how your shining young hero is taking the news of your mystifying disappearance. Meanwhile, if you need anything, ask Sanchez here for it-but remember, you'll be expected to pay the price. I've coached him not to be too demanding, seeing as how it's your first day of a new life, as you might say. So just make your needs known to him as they occur to you, Dorothy girl, and hell tell you what you're to pay in return. Fair enough? Now then, Max, let's have a hearty breakfast. I always feel hungry after a good night's fucking."
Head bowed, hair disheveled, on her knees before the leering vaquero, Dorothy Maxton heard her two ravishers leave this room which had been the execution chamber of her maidenhead, and she shuddered again as she heard the door slam behind them.
"Now, chiquita," Sanchez resumed in an oily voice, "they're going to fill their bellies with roast meat and tortillas. Surely you must be hungry?"
"N-no... I... I don't want anything."
"Then perhaps a cup of cool water. Si, all the night in that hot closet, your throat must be dry, senorita rubia-and such a lovely white throat it is!" he purred.
Dorothy felt her throat contract at the thought of cold water. It had been stifling in that closet. Involuntarily, she stammered, "Y-yes, I-I'd like some water, please."
"Seguro, chiquita," Sanchez grinned evilly. "But first you must pay for it, as the Senor Moss has already told you."
"P-pay? B-but I had no money with me when-when I was brought here," she protested.
Sanchez shrugged. "Did the senorita rubia hear me speak of money? I would not be so gross, chiquita! What I ask is such a little thing, and it lies within your power. If you agree, I am ordered by the Senor Moss to unbind your wrists. Then you will feel much more comfortable. And you shall even have something to wear-though I confess, for myself, querida, I much prefer you exactly as you are."
Scarlet flooded her face as she bowed her head at this lewd sally. "W-what do-do you want me to do, then?" she faintly quavered.
"A small thing, as I said, querida. I will open my breeches, and you-you will bestow a kiss of gratitude upon my cojones, that is all!"
Her face lifted, the dark blue eyes widening uncomprehendingly; Dorothy Maxton had learned only a smattering of French, not Spanish, at that sheltered academy back in Philadelphia. "I-I don't understand-" she stammered.
"Oh, a thousand pardons, chiquita! I will make myself more plain," Sanchez smirked. And before the young blonde's astounded gaze, he proceeded to unbutton his breeches and to draw out his prick, which was already hard with rut. "You must kiss this, chiquita," he explained, taking another step toward her.
"OHH NOO! OH YOU ABOMINABLE BEAST! I WONT!" she screamed, twisting her face away and bursting into hysterical sobs.
"As the senorita wishes." Philosophically he thrust his cock back into his breeches. "But then I am afraid there will be neither cool water nor food, nor are your wrists to be unbound. I bid you good morning, chiquita!"
"You want me to ride to Laredo, is it, Colonel?" Archie Thorson, a bluff, tall, bearded man in his early forties, flung his Texas saddle over his roan mare. "Well, now, if it means a chance to wet my whistle at the Red Dog Saloon, I'll not say no!
"Hell, Swede, wet your prick as well if you've such a mind," Sandoval chuckled, clapping him on the back. "From the saloon, you're to get word to a Mrs. Elsie Thurston over at the hotel that you think you can lead her to her niece. Make up any likely story, but just see that none of the soldier boys find out what you're telling her."
"Trust me for that, Colonel. I've been a rancher nine years now and everybody knows a hard-working, hard-drinking compadre like the Swede wouldn't have no truck with those dirty Comancheros," Archie Thorson winked. "I'll tell the lady her fine niece is being held for ransom and that she's to come along with me to meet the chief of the thieving band who snatched her, that's what."
"You'll find her easily persuaded, Swede," Brian helped his friend finish cinching the saddle. "She's been a widow five long, empty-bed years-till yesterday, that is. So if need be and you can deny your own sweet widow just a little of the hot sap in your big balls, I'm thinking you'll have no trouble with Aunt Elsie. Off with you now. And while you're there, just find out what a certain Lieutenant Jabez Townsend of Company C is planning to do about finding his missing sweetheart."
"I will. Ah, you almost make me wish I was a younger man, Brian, for then I'd stay here and fight you for that piece of sweet young pussy. But a hard-nosed Swede like me has an easier time with widows. Come on, Sheila, we're bound for Laredo and a full bag of oats for you and a cold bottle and a hot widow for me either way!"
They watched the bearded rider wave his hat as he turned toward Devil's Lookout, and then Sandoval and Brian walked back to the hacienda. "I'll bet you the next poke at Miss Dorothy's tight cunt that she hasn't paid for a drink or breakfast yet, Brian boy," the Comanchero leader nudged his aide in the ribs.
"Oh no you won't, Max. That's the bet I'd make myself. She's going to take some breaking in, and I hope it's even longer than I calculated. Let's have a chat with Crazy Elk and see if we can't plan a raid to hit the settlements around Laredo just in case Swede sends back word the boys in blue will be riding the range looking for our blonde guest. Then we'll go back and see how she's getting along with Sanchez. I'll bet he's dying to plant his Mexican dagger in any of her holes-but he knows damn well what'll happen to him if he does it before I give the word!"
CHAPTER NINE
"Lieutenant Townsend, I'm just worried sick!" Elsie Thurston delved into her reticule for a lace-trimmed sachet-scented handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "She was going to take a bath, you see. I guess I must have dozed off a little-it was such-such an exhausting day, starting with that dreadful stagecoach ride-and the next thing I knew it was nearly nine o'clock and no Dorothy."
"I can't understand it, Mrs. Thurston." Lieutenant Jabez Townsend was slim, about six feet tall, his pleasantly youthful face made more mature by impressively long light-brown sideburns and a flourishing mustache on his upper lip. His bright blue uniform with gleaming brass buttons was as new as his commission, and he seemed somewhat self-conscious of the cavalry saber belted at his side. "I was away on maneuvers planned a week ago, or certainly I should have met both of you at the stagecoach station. Marshal Emory was kind enough to send his deputy over to the post to inform me that you had arrived safely, and I confess I was secretly hoping Miss Dorothy would soon be in communication with me. I had hoped that we might both lead the quadrille at the cotillion Friday evening."
"You poor, dear boy!" Elsie sniffed, again dabbing at her swollen eyes. "I feel so awfully guilty!"
"Now, now, Mrs. Thurston, it wasn't your fault. And you must try to get a grip on yourself. First we must learn where Miss Dorothy went, and whether it was against her will."
"Oh dear!" Elsie wailed, raising her eyes ceilingward.
"Now, now, Mrs. Thurston, don't get alarmed. She's a fine sensible girl, and I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for her disappearance. We must be logical, you see, if we're to find her quickly. Obviously, she couldn't have known anyone in Laredo, so we must assume some stranger managed somehow to carry her off."
"That's what I'm most afraid of, dear Lieutenant Townsend! People out here are so different from the kind back East, you know. Uncouth ruffians-yes, and savages too!"
"Now, now, Mrs. Thurston, you mustn't believe everything they print in the papers back home. It's true there are some lawless men and renegade Indians, but that's why the Army's here, to maintain law and order. But let's go back to last night. You say you asked the hotel clerk whether he'd seen Miss Dorothy leave?"
"Yes, of course, that was the very first thing I did, Lieutenant Townsend! But he hadn't seen anyone at all. The only thing, as I told you, is that the-the person next door to us seems to have left the hotel too, though the clerk can't for the life of him set any time on it."
"And you inquired as to his name, I presume?"
"Why, yes. He registered as a Mr. Brian Moss from San Antonio. The clerk remembers his having been here at the hotel before, but I'm afraid that's about all he knows. He .told me that this Mr. Moss is a very quiet man, not given to talking about himself or his business."
"I see. I shall myself ask the clerk to give me his description as best he can. Unless you yourself could furnish it?"
The buxom brown-haired widow blushed and bit her lips. "Oh no-I-I'm afraid I can't be of much help. I-I hardly saw him, Lieutenant. That is, I-I mean, he-he rode up on the same stage with us, and I thought the stagecoach driver addressed him as Mr. Moss, but I can't be sure it was the same one the clerk says was registered in the adjoining room."
"Chances are it was. But surely, if you rode on the stagecoach with him, you must remember what he looks like."
"Why, vaguely, perhaps, yes, Lieutenant Townsend. But of course I was so busy looking after my niece and conversing with her-and-and it isn't my habit to speak to strangers, I'll have you know," Elsie tried to look indignant.
"Forgive my rudeness, Mrs. Thurston. Of course a well-bred woman like you wouldn't be so gauche. But you must have looked at him, at any rate-"
"Well, of course, but all I recall is-is he was black-haired and maybe just a mite taller than you, and he wore boots and a buckskin jacket-and well, I guess that's about all."
"Hm. That might be helpful. I think the best thing to do is for me to send out a scouting party. Unfortunately, we can't spare too many men from the post, not in view of some of the terrorizing Indian raids we've been experiencing the past few months along the frontier. I'll ask Major Ellsworth to assign me to the detail, naturally. Meanwhile, you might inquire about town, Mrs. Thurston, just on the chance someone might have seen Miss Dorothy."
"Oh my-if anything happened to her, I'll never forgive myself! And to think I brought her out here to-to be your bride, dear Lieutenant Townsend! What must you think of me, so derelict in my responsibilities as this-oh dear!" she began to sniffle.
"Please don't cry, Mrs. Thurston. And don't distress yourself with needless fears. Miss Dorothy is an intelligent, rational young woman and I have the utmost confidence in her resourcefulness."
"But-but what if those horrible painted savages carried her off?"
Lieutenant Jabez Townsend shook his head. "But that would be impossible, right here in Laredo, Mrs. Thurston. Now you must make an effort to put away such implausible notions, you'll only have an attack of nerves. I'm going to get back to the post and organize the scouting party. Please promise me you won't get too upset. We'll find her, don't you worry."
"Oh, dear Lieutenant Townsend," Elsie sniffed, again dabbing at her eyes, "it's such a comfort to know that you can take charge. I feel a little better already-though I shan't have a calm moment till she's found safe and sound! I-I'll go do just what you said."
"Of course," he soothed as he inclined his head in token of respect, "by occupying yourself that way, you won't have time to dwell on unpleasant things that certainly haven't happened. Now III try to get word back to you as soon as my men and I have found her. And we shall, Mrs. Thurston, have no fears on that score. Your servant, Ma'am."
By sundown, Dorothy Maxton had begun to wonder how much longer she could endure without food and water and how long it would take before Jabez Townsend and his troops learned where she had been taken.
There had been a certain prayerful relief for her in being allowed to don a shawl, so that at least those hateful men wouldn't see her bosom and the most private part of all. And then, when her black-haired tormentor-the very man who had kidnapped her and forced himself upon her as no other man had ever done before-had locked her in the closet again after her having had to humble herself by begging the Mexican to attend to her the way a nurse does to a child who is just getting toilet training and without again having his way with her, she had had a return of hope and pride. Perhaps it was the scanty but definite solace of the shawl in hiding what no man except a husband should ever see of a decent girl; perhaps, too, the surprise of not being ravished when she had had to parade all morning long before him and that Colonel Sandoval as well as the fat, odious Mexican. But whatever the reasons, Dorothy Maxton had begun to regain some of her former self-esteem and courage, and swore to herself that they would not demean her again unless it was solely by brute force.
Yet the hours dragged in that dark musty closet; even though she had not been bound, she had the choice of standing,-which was unthinkable-sitting, or lying on her side with her knees drawn up, the way she had finally found sleep after the horrors of last night. So she sat, clasping her updrawn knees, after first having taken off the high-heeled pumps which unpleasantly pinched her instep and toes. And since there was nothing better to do in that isolated and confined blackness, she prayed to be saved, while at the same time dismally reflecting that Jabez Townsend would be well within his rights as a gentleman if he refused to honor their betrothal, since she was little more than damaged goods.
At last she dozed, and, just as in the morning, was awakened by the creaking sound of the door's opening.
"Rise and shine, Dorothy girl!" Brian stood looking down at her with his maddeningly mocking grin. "It's time for supper, and we need a pretty filly to wait on table. Crazy Elk honors us with his presence tonight, and he's asked for you specially."
"Ohh! Is-is it as late as that?"
"It is indeed. Ah, I see your drift, you big-tittied beauty. You're thinking that by now your soldierboy ought to have come to the rescue, isn't that it? Sorry I can't give you any such heartening news. But cheer up-I've sent a friend of mine to Laredo to scout around for Aunt Elsie. Unless I miss my guess, shell be asking everywhere if anyone's seen a tall haughty blonde with a bustle and that saucy beauty patch under one eye. And if she does, she's sure to run into Archie. So you might just get your chaperone back, Dorothy girl!"
Dorothy Maxton shrank back, a hand to her mouth. "You-you devil!"-she breathed. "And I suppose you'll have her kidnapped and brought here, the way you did me-oh, you'll be punished, you'll see! You'll pay for all your crimes-and-and I'll stand at the foot of the gallows and watch you hang!"
"On your feet, you saucy spitfire. And put those pumps back on. Can't have a Philadelphia blue-blood waiting table with bare feet."
"B-but they hurt-they're too tight!"
"Of course, I could make a present of you to Crazy Elk. Then you'd be able to wear moccasins. But I ought to warn you that he's already got two official squaws and a young bitch on the side who very likely will become his third squaw. And it's the custom among the Comanches for the newest squaw to do all the dirty chores, the cooking, the laundering, and to be given quite a few good thrashings during the day before her lord and master deigns to fuck her on his blanket. Besides, he's got a prick like a prize bull, and he goes at fucking just like one. You'd have a sore crotch every morning, take my word for it, Dorothy girl. Now, do you put those pumps on or shall I tell Crazy Elk you've fallen madly in love with him and want to be his Number Four?"
"Damn you!" she sullenly muttered as she reached for the gleaming red-leather pumps and, making a face, wedged her dainty feet into them.
"Well, now, that's an improvement. A month ago, you'd have fainted dead away rather than say 'damn' at that academy, wouldn't you, Dorothy girl? No two ways about it, frontier life is going to make a new and very interesting woman out of you. But you've a long ways to go yet, and your education is going to have to be started all over again. For instance, just a minute ago you said you wanted to watch me hang. I'll bet you didn't know that when a man is hanged, his prick stands up at attention, just as it does when he's ready to fuck a sweet squirmy piece like you."
"Ohhhhh! I-I'd be grateful if you'd stop talking to me entirely. I think you're vile and loathsome. I know I'm helpless, and only a filthy coward would force his attentions on me when he knows how I detest and despise him. But at least you could have the decency not-not to be always talking about such disgusting things!"
"That's quite a polished speech, Dorothy girl. The only trouble is, just as I told you, you have to start going to school all over again out here. Now, if you knew how to please a man, I'd be quite willing to fuck you without conversation. But you're such a silly little greenhorn when it comes to important things that I have to tell you what's expected of you."
Her face was crimson and her eyes were closed as she finally gasped, "Y-you are assuming, s-sir, that I might have an interest in what you call important things and what I instead term shameful, vicious and depraved brutality. Y-you're no better than an animal, no better than those painted savages to whom you sell guns and whiskey so they can turn against innocent and decent people and massacre and torture! And-and you expect me, s-sir, to want to learn how-how to please a blackguard like you? Oh, I would a thousand times rather die-and what you have of me, be very sure, will be by your superior strength and because of my helplessness. Now do you understand what I think of you: "Perfectly, and it makes me all the more determined to change your opinion, Dorothy girl. And now, whether you like it or not, you're coming to the dining room and you're going to wait on Max and Crazy Elk. Oh, yes, and Sanchez and Ruiz, your bodyguards from last night. Let's go now!"
With a groan, she tried to stand up, but her cramped seated pose all these weary hours had cut off the circulation in her legs. Impatiently, Brian reached down, seized her by the wrist and jerked her to her feet. She took a step, then another, and tottered with a cry of fright as she saw him unbuckle his belt and yank it out.
"I'll bring the blood back to those long white legs of yours, Dorothy girl! Now walk!" he hissed as he sent the belt whistling and clacking across her bare calves.
"Oww! Ohh please don't! I-I have cramps-I-I can't-oh please-owwohh! Ohh, you're cruel!" she wailed as twice more the belt slashed over her sleek calves.
"Cramps? You mean your monthly time, Dorothy girl? I wouldn't advise you to try that dodge in the hope of getting out of being fucked, because if I find your hairy little nest is sweet and dry, I'll personally pull all those hairs out one by one! Now walk, keep walking, the circulation'll come back soon enough-there, that's to help you!" And twice more the belt smacked wickedly across her writhing calves. Stumbling, sobbing, turning back and putting out a trembling hand to fend off the ruthless lashing, Dorothy Maxton managed at last to regain her balance and to hobble out of Sandoval's bedroom down the hallway and into the large dining room. Then she halted, eyes widening at the sight of Crazy Elk in his warbonnet, seated in a heavy leather-backed air, his bronzed body daubed with war paint, turning to stare at her as he held a huge slab of roast meal; in his greasy hands.
The table was huge, could readily have seated forty guests. Fine linen, gleaming silverware, wine goblets, decanters, golden candlesticks adorned it. Such a dining room would, indeed, frequently be seen in the mansion of a wealthy Philadelphia citizen; to find it here in the Basin momentarily startled her. Sandoval, elegant in frock coat, and even the two grinning Mexicans in vividly colored serapes, seemed a part of the civilization she had known; yet the presence of Crazy Elk in breechclout and moccasins brutally distorted this innocuous semblance and made her shiver with the awareness of all that had happened to her in the incredibly short span of twenty-four hours.
But now a new, even more trying problem posed itself. Not only could she see the china bowls filled with potatoes and vegetables, the plates piled with thick biscuits, the goblets shimmering with red wine, but she could smell the aroma of all that tempting provender. All through the long stagecoach journey into Texas, she and her aunt had had to make do on the greasy, badly cooked foods served in the little restaurants adjoining the stations. She inhaled that aroma almost greedily, and licked her dry lips, suddenly weak from hunger and thirst.
Max Sandoval rose and made her a courtly bow that would have done credit to a royal emissary. "You gratify us with your appearance, Miss Dorothy," he lifted his wine-glass in salute. "I trust you enjoyed your long siesta. Now if you would be kind enough to fill the glasses of my guests with this very excellent French Burgundy, I should be most grateful."
Brian, at her elbow, leaned over to whisper, "I'd oblige Max if I were you, Dorothy girl. I'll let you in on a little secret. Crazy Elk has already mentioned the fact he'd like nothing better than to have you in his wickiup if we tire of you. And if you act uppity the least bit this evening, hell walk out of here with his fourth squaw, savvy?"
"Oh-d-dear God!" she breathed, her eyes widening with terror. The Comanche war leader's eyes glittered as they studied her shawl-draped body, and she felt her legs tremble. Then, with a grunt, he bit off a hefty morsel from the slab of meat he gripped and gulped it down, hardly chewing it.
"See, Dorothy girl? He likes you almost as much as he does that hunk of venison," Brian whispered. "Now you go fill up those wine glasses and smile nicely at him. But, again, if I were you, I think I'd save my sweetest smiles for Max and, of course, myself so the chief won't get the notion you've really got the hots for him. Those three squaws just love to use the switch on a white girl's bare ass, Dorothy girl, and between all that switching and Crazy Elk's big cock, you wouldn't get much sleep any night in the week."
With a stifled gasp, Dorothy Maxton moved to the table and lifted the cut-glass decanter filled with the red wine. Removing the stopple, she carefully poured into the glass nearest her, that of Sanchez, who sniggered and ran his hand up her smooth white thigh. Stiffening with indignant shame, she very nearly dropped the decanter, till Brian's harsh whisper cut through the sudden silence like a whiplash, "Keep going, Dorothy girl! And smile! Sanchez is just paying you a compliment, that's all. I'll tell you something else the chief said-he'd like to see you and Lobo fucking, with your nice long legs and soft white skin. And if you get to be his squaw, I've got a notion he'd treat himself to that sight quite a lot. He's not overly fond of white-eyes, as you can guess."
Stupefied, she stared at Brian while Sanchez's pudgy hand moved to her other thigh, roaming round to caress the tender front very close to her cunt. "Don't tell me you've forgotten last night already," the black-haired Comanchero lieutenant taunted. "Lobo's the wild dog that fucked Kathy Lorson. He belongs to Crazy Elk!"
With a horrified gasp, the honey-haired young woman moved toward Ruiz, bent to fill his glass, forcing a tremulous smile to her lips. In his turn, Ruiz stroked her thigh; then, just as she straightened, applied a sly little pinch to the satiny knee-hollow.
"Oh-oh-please don't do that!" she sobbed, jerking away and again almost dropping the decanter.
With a mocking chuckle, Brian took his place at the table, across from Sandoval. Dorothy Maxton saw him jerk his thumb toward Crazy Elk at the head of the table, and understood; her legs still trembling, she moved to the painted war leader, forcing herself to smile as she carefully tilted the decanter to his nearly empty goblet. With a whoop, Crazy Elk tugged the decanter out of her nerveless hand, tilted it to his mouth and gulped down nearly half its contents before he banged it down on the table. Then, in almost the same motion, he seized her wrist and gutturally exclaimed, "White-eye squaw have long legs of antelope, soft skin of doe! You not want my good friends, I keep you in my wickiup. You say whose squaw you are!"
"There's your chance, Dorothy girl. If you're tired of our company, you've got the perfect opportunity to change admirers," Brian called. "Careful now, don't pull away, hell think you can't stand him. And it's not a good idea to make a Comanche chief lose face, I guarantee you. Keep smiling-that's a smart bitch. Now tell him-you belong to Max and me. Unless, to be sure, you want to change riders in midstream!"
"And what a ride Crazy Elk can give Miss Dorothy, too," Sandoval chimed in.
Dorothy Maxton shuddered as Crazy Elk's steely fingers tightened on her slim wrist. She sent a despairing look at Brian, who shrugged. "You speak now, you say whose squaw you are!" The Comanche war leader irritably repeated.
"I-I am the sq-squaw of the... the... w... white m-men," the honey-blonde young woman faintly stammered. Her senses were reeling, and she felt that her face was burning, that she was trembling so violently she could hardly stand.
"It is well! They are my good friends, my blood brothers! You serve them well, then, yellow-haired squaw, or I, Crazy Elk, punish you hard, you savvy?"
"Y-yes," she moaned. The fierce Comanche grunted, let go of her wrist, and she groped for the decanter, carried it toward Sandoval.
"Now that's right obliging of you, Miss Dorothy, and I'll remember what you said later on," the Comanchero leader softly chuckled. As she bent to fill his glass, he ran his hand savoringly over her smooth naked back. "So will Brian I've no doubt. Go fill his glass now and give him a nice sweet kiss. Taking his advice kept you from a hard night in Crazy Elk's wickiup, and that's no lie."
Sandoval sent her on her shuddering way with a smart slap on the bottom which made the two leering vaqueros laugh uproariously. As she bent toward Brian's goblet, he reached up to cup one of her titties, his other hand stroking the back of her bare thigh, "You've begun to show a little progress, Dorothy girl. Just don't have a relapse. Crazy Elk'll expect you to be loving and obedient, now that you've come over to our side. If you aren't hell expect us to beat you-that's the way a Comanche squaw learns to take orders, no matter what they are."
She sent him a haggard look, her body fitfully trembling to the insistent caresses of his roving hands. The Comanche war leader, belching loudly, watched her, and Dorothy Maxton remembered to force a wan smile to her quivering lips.
"Go into the kitchen and tell Sam to give you that platter of roast turkey, Dorothy girl," Brian at last commanded. "He'll be glad to see what a nice new helper we've just found for him."
Only too happy to escape the avid surveillance of her four tormentors if only for a moment, the young woman hurried toward the kitchen door, pushed it open and entered, only to gasp in fright as she very nearly bumped into a towering Negro, with gleaming bald head, a mouth full of gold teeth and the bulging biceps of a pugilist.
"Wal now, lil Missy, where'd you done come from?" he grinned, rolling his eyes. "You sho 'nuff nice to look at. Now, wut you want, huh?"
"The-the turkey, pl-please," Dorothy Maxton quavered, turning scarlet as the Negro's eyes laved her scantily adorned body.
"Sho, l'il Missy, here y'are! Now mind you doan drop it-mebbee ah bettah take it in mahself-"
"Oh, n-no, I'll do it, please!" she gasped.
"Suit yoself, gal. Be seein' moah ob you, ah hopes, hee hee!" he cackled as he obligingly pushed open the door through which she staggered, holding the heavy platter in both arms.
"Come on in, Sam," Brian invited with a wave of his arm. "Set it down there, Dorothy girl. Now, wasn't it right gentlemanly of Sam to open the door for you?"
"Y-yes," she straightened after setting the heavy platter down near Crazy Elk.
"Then I think you ought to thank him for his help, don't you agree, Max?"
"Definitely!"
"Sam, this is Dorothy Maxton, all the way from Philadelphia to brighten our barbarous habitat," Brian quipped. "Now, Dorothy girl, kneel down and kiss the hand that held the door for you. Because if you'd dropped that platter, Max would have fantailed your big ass raw. Came all the way from London on a ship, it did."
"Ohh-I-I-" she groaned, frantically looking around.
"Crazy Elk is watching to see how good a squaw you are, Dorothy girl," Brian reminded her.
Her face burning, the young woman slowly sank down to her knees and, reaching for the grinning Negro's hand, brought it to her lips, which she reluctantly brushed against it.
"Oh no, that's no kiss, Dorothy girl!" Brian rebuked her. "We want to hear it so there's no mistake. Now be quick about it!"
Crazy Elk leaned forward, his face impassive, his eyes narrowed. Dorothy Maxton's eyes filled with tears as she brought Sam's hand to her mouth and this time implanted a smacking kiss on it.
"That's better. All right, Sam, thanks. A great supper, especially the way you sauced up that venison," Brian dismissed him. "Now, Dorothy girl, suppose you carve it up and serve us all. Give Crazy Elk the lion's share, and don't forget to smile!"
Her nightmare went on. Awkwardly, aware that all four of them were intently staring at her, the blonde began to carve. What made it worse was the delicious aroma as she sliced thick pieces of breast and dark meat and piled them on the plates held out to her. She felt weak at the pit of her stomach by the time all four had been served, and she moved back and waited for new orders, glancing nervously at Brian.
The black-haired adventurer looked up. "You look as forlorn as a week-old calf whose mother's gone off with a new bull," he chuckled. "You must be starved by now."
"Y-yes-b-but I don't want anything-" At this point, the Comanche war leader put down the turkey leg he had been gnawing and ordered, "Yellow-haired squaw eat now!"
"There, you see, Dorothy girl? Sit down here, next to me. Sanchez, pass me that wine decanter, there's enough left to fill her glass. And some of these roast potatoes and succotash, and there's a chunk of venison." As he spoke, he filled an extra plate and. shoved it to the place beside him.
"N-no, pi-please-I-I really don't want anything-"
"That's a lie and you know it! Maybe you'd rather go to Crazy Elk's wickiup and live on a bowl of maize and some berries and water? Sometimes, as a. special treat, his squaws roast him a dog-"
"Oh-d-don't!"
"He's scowling, Dorothy girl. He doesn't speak too much English, but he sure can tell when a squaw's acting uppity. Ah, I thought that'd do it! Now smile at him and then put your arm around my neck and give me a nice big kiss!"
Scarlet to her earlobes, Dorothy Maxton hesitantly seated herself, turned to display a frozen little smile to the glowering Comanche war leader, and then, closing her eyes, slowly slipped her left arm around Brian's neck and put her lips to his cheek. But his right hand cupped her chin and turned her face level with his, at which he pressed his mouth lingeringly on hers, his left hand fondling one of her titties. "Mfff! Ohh-pl-please-n-not in front of-oh don't!" she moaned, tears blurring her dilated eyes.
"Now fill your face and be quick about it, Dorothy girl!" Brian shoved her away, then turned to Sandoval, "Well, Max, what does our war leader say? Do we raid Laredo?"
"He says yes, as soon as the soldiers leave the fort and set out for the Basin, Brian boy. As soon as we hear from the Swede, hell work up the braves to go on the warpath. Oh, and something else-and this ought to tickle your fancy, Miss Dorothy!-he told me that if you and I decided to keep the yellow-haired squaw, we must help him find another one like her in Laredo. I think he's got blanket ideas about you, Miss Dorothy!"
Dorothy Maxton, forgetting her ladylike manners as the pangs of hunger overwhelmed her, was hastily and ravenously cleaning her plate. Looking up at Sandoval's mention of her name, she gasped and blushed furiously, while Brian chuckled, "I'll bet that's the first time you've acted naturally since you left the diaper-filling age, Dorothy girl. Ah, that's better, isn't it? You're getting color back in your cheeks-and I don't mean the ones I fantailed. Lord, how you blush over a horny little joke! You wait and see, before I'm done with you, you'll be making better jokes than that yourself and loving it!"
"Ohhh!"
"Damned if that getup doesn't make a man randier to poke you than when you're bare-ass naked, Dorothy girl."
She dropped knife and fork with a clatter, and slid out of the chair. "I-I've had enough, t-thank you. May-may I go now: "You see how much you've improved already? That was real nice and polite, Dorothy girl. But aren't you forgettin' something?"
Her jaw dropped; indeed, she had forgotten, tortured at the sight and smell of all that rich food after the privations she had suffered.
"Ah, I see you've remembered. Good girl! Yes, you will have to pay for your vittles even though Crazy Elk sort of commanded you to enjoy them. And it won't do any good to try upchucking them either, Dorothy girl, the damage is done."
"Oh G-God-must you always be so hateful, so cruel?" she groaned.
"Crazy Elk can top me without even straining his imagination, Dorothy girl. Want Max and me to make him a present of you right now?" Brian insinuated.
"Oh no-oh dear God-you-you-you wouldn't!"
"What's one yellow-haired squaw compared to keeping the Comanche war chief on our side, Dorothy girl? Max and I sort of have a hankering to keep our scalps and stay in his good books, you understand," he lazily drawled. "But you haven't answered my question yet-are you going to be a good obedient little white-eye squaw for us, or shall I have him take you back to his wickiup after he's had his usual nightcap of half a bottle of brandy? Comanches get mean when they're lickered up, Dorothy girl. He'd like as not, the first night with you, turn you over to his other wives and Lobo!"
"Oh no, merciful God in heaven, don't-oh please, no! I-I'll d-do what you want!"
"That's a good girl. All right then. I'm going to tell him in Comanche that you're very fond of him and admire his valor no end, but you want to belong to us. Also, that, just so he won't feel too bad, you're going to do something very nice to him so he can dream of how the bitch hell bring back from Laredo on his raid will act when he's her lawful master." With this, Brian rose, lifted his wine goblet and, bowing to Crazy Elk, uttered what seemed gibberish to Dorothy Maxton, who stood, hands clasped in front of her, paralyzed with terror and shame. She saw the painted Comanche stare at her, a slow crafty smile curving his thin, vicious mouth, heard him reply in the same incomprehensible tongue. Then, rising to his feet with a loud belch, he unfastened his breechclout to bare his swollen prick, and heavily seated himself after pushing the chair back from the table.
"He couldn't be more delighted, Dorothy girl-except, of course, if you'd have said you wanted to share his blanket tonight." Brian winked at her. "He says he would give much gold and a dozen fine ponies to have such a talented and obedient squaw in his wickiup, and he now waits eagerly for you to show him how a white-eye squaw shows her loyalty and obedience to her white master. It appears not even his own squaws ever offered him such pleasure!"
"Wh-what do you mean-oh, for the love of God in heaven-what did you say I-I would do?" Dorothy Maxton groaned.
"Not much, really. You're to get down on your knees in front of him, take his cock in your soft little hand, Dorothy girl, and suck him till his juice comes out. And I'd advise you to swallow it as if it were ambrosia from Mount Olympus itself. Spitting it out and making a face might give him the wrong idea about your obedience."
She reeled, her eyes enormous, staring at Brian's mocking face as if she didn't believe the testimony of her ears. The smile still playing about his lips, he sibilantly added, "You'd better play it smart, Dorothy girl. If you fly into a tantrum, hell see you were lying when you said you were our obedient squaw. He'll insist we thrash hell out of your big white ass, either that or do it himself because you've insulted his rank as our war chief as well as his manhood. In that case, we'd have to make a gift of you to him to calm him down. Of course you can do whatever you want, this is still a free country. But whatever you do, you better hurry, Dorothy girl. When his lips start getting tight that way, it means he's unhappy."
Dorothy Maxton covered her tear-stained face with her hands, bowing her head, and stood a moment, lost in her despairing shame. Again a tense silence filled the room. And then at last, broken by the terror of the prospect which Brian had intimated, the scantily adorned honey-blonde captive stumbled toward the head of the dining table.
Crazy Elk leaned back, his sinewy, bronzed thighs sprawled obscenely, his massive prick uptilting. He grunted, pointed to it, fixing her with a baleful look.
"He's waiting, Dorothy girl!" Brian snapped.
With a whimpering little cry, she dropped to her knees, and looked slowly up into the war leader's arrogant face. And what she read in his eyes decided her, against all the nausea and loathing which the thought of this supremely demeaning act evoked.
Tears running down her cheeks, she put out a trembling hand and took awkward hold of the middle of his bulging shaft.
"That's a fair start. Now open your mouth and take as much of it inside as you can, then suck. The faster you do it, Dorothy girl, the faster he'll shoot his wad," Brian advised.
"Carramba, que cosa!" Ruiz breathed, his face livid with lust.
A guttural exclamation from Crazy Elk, followed by the startling noise of his hand smacking his thigh, made Dorothy Maxton cry out in fright and spurred her to the task. Closing her eyes as tightly as she could, her trembling lips opening, she approached her mouth toward the broad glans and, after a shuddering hesitation, forced herself to accept the tip between her revulsing lips.
"Ughh-ahh-ohhh!" she gurgled, fighting the frantic urge to retch at the acrid taste of the Comanche's prick.
"No, Crazy Elk doesn't bathe too often, I'm sorry to say, not the way Max and I do," Brian's mocking voice was a new, torturing goad for the distraught captive. "What's that, Crazy Elk?-he's asking whether you find his cock as large as ours! I'll tell him it's the largest you've ever seen, that's why you're stricken with admiration, Dorothy girl-he's happy again, so better get to it pronto!"
Moaning, her knees shaking in abject terror, Dorothy Maxton fought against the black swirling nausea that made her Adam's apple jerk and her stomach retch, and pursed her lips over the throbbing tip of Crazy Elk's whang. She heard him grunt with satisfaction, than cried out with terror as she felt his fingers plunge into her Psyche knot.
"Don't move, on your life, Dorothy girl!" Brian hissed. "He's pleased with you. See that he stays that way!"
Squirming on her knees, her other hand pressed hard against her pounding heart, the captive sucked at the obscene lollipop. Then suddenly she felt a searing pain at her scalp, heard Crazy Elk's mad bellow, and at the same moment felt the viscous drench of his gism spattering her mouthwalls, nearly strangling her.
"Good girl! Now keep it down, don't even think of spitting it out!" Brian called.
But Dorothy Maxton did not hear that final warning. She had toppled over onto her side in a dead faint...
CHAPTER TEN
"Oh, Mr. Thorson, do you really mean you know who kidnapped my niece?" Elsie Thurston clutched at the bearded rancher's arm.
"From the way you describe her, Ma'am, I'm pretty sure it must have been. Here now, I can see you're a lady of quality and not comfortable being in a saloon. Suppose we step outside, just so nobody else can hear us palaver."
"Th-thank you, Mr. Thorson. Oh, you don't know how frantic I've been. I've inquired all over town, and even the marshal didn't seem to have any notions about what might have happened."
"Now don't you fret yourself, Mrs. Thurston, it's just lucky I was watering down my mare last night when I heard those scalawags talking just outside the stable. At first, I didn't give it any mind, you see. I figured they might just be a little drunk and talking big, like lots of fellows do. But then today, when Widow Mulvaney's bartender tipped me off you were looking for a young blonde woman who'd come here from back East, I just put two and two together."
"Oh, thank heavens I found you, Mr. Thorson! And-and it's refreshing to see what a gentleman you are. You know, I-I never before in all my life set foot in such a vulgar place as a saloon. Oh, but what do you think I ought to do?"
"Well, Ma'am, I heard them say something about holding the girl for ransom just beyond Devil's Lookout-that's about twenty miles from here as the crow flies."
"My poor niece-oh, heaven alone knows what they might have done to her by now!" Elsie gasped.
"Now you mustn't go upsetting yourself with worries, Ma'am. They were after money, you see-one of them talked big about getting himself a stake to go out to the California gold fields. If that's the case, I don't expect they'd try to hurt her any, not if they figured on getting that ransom."
"Yes, that's right-oh, I certainly hope so, Mr. Thorson! I've only got about a thousand dollars with me, and most of that was meant to be a wedding present from my niece's parents. But-but could we get word to Lieutenant Townsend first, and then perhaps you could take me to where you think they'd be keeping her? I could talk with them and pretend to be willing to pay the ransom, and by then Lieutenant Townsend-that's her fiance, you see-could have his troops there to catch those wicked men and put them in prison where they belong. Oh, I'll just die if they've harmed as much as a hair of her lovely head, Mr. Thorson!"
"That sounds like a good plan, Ma'am. Tell you what. I'll go hire me a buckboard to drive you out there and I'll give the little Mexican boy who works at the stable a dollar to get word to this Lieutenant Townsend to have his men follow us."
"Oh, that's a wonderful idea! Let's get started right away! I blame myself because I'm her chaperone, and after bringing her out here all the way from Philadelphia, I couldn't bear to face that dear Lieutenant Townsend again till I get her back to him safe and sound!"
"Now, now, you let me handle this for you, Mrs. Thurston. We'll get her back, you'll see. Anyway, I know most of the galoots and varmints in Laredo, and when I catch up with these fellows who grabbed your niece, they'll listen to Archie Thorson. It'll be a lot safer for you if I'm along, you see, Ma'am. Now you go down the street back to the hotel, and then in back of it you'll find the stable. I'll ride over there now on my mare, get her hitched up to the buckboard and tell Jose to scoot over to the post and pass the word along to the Lieutenant. That way we won't waste any time."
"Oh, you're positively a Godsend, Mr. Thorson! How can I ever repay you for your kindness and trouble?" Elsie tearfully exclaimed.
He patted her on the shoulder. "Why, Ma am, just being friendly to me next time we meet, that's payment enough. An old bachelor rancher like me doesn't often get the chance to meet up with such a fine figure of a woman as yourself."
"Oh, now you've made me blush, Mr. Thorson!" Elsie giggled and lowered her eyes. "I-I'll meet you at the stable, then. And I'm ever so grateful-you don't know!"
Archie Thorson swung himself into the saddle, tipped his sombrero to the dark brown-haired widow. "We'll talk about gratitude later on, Ma'am, after I've found your niece for you. Now you take your time walking over to the stable. The buckboard II slow us down a mite, but then I'd not expect an Eastern lady in all those fancy duds to plump herself down on a horse!"
Then, setting his spurs to the mare, he trotted down the street, turned and headed for the very stable from which Brian had acquired the buckboard that had brought Dorothy Maxton on the major part of her journey to the Basin. The owner was at supper, and Archie Thorson beckoned to the slim fourteen-year-old Mexican boy who had been left in charge. "Buenas noches, Joselito!" he tossed the mare's reins to the youth as he dismounted. "Hitch her up to a buckboard."
"You wish to rent one, Senor Swede? I am afraid the patron will not let me. He rented one last night, and it has not come back, and there is only one more left."
"I'll buy it, then. Here's seventy-five in gold. And here's another five-dollar piece all for you if you'll run a little errand for me, Joselito!"
"Si, Senor Swede! Con mucho gusto, y gracias!"
"Por nada. Now pay attention, and maybe there'll be another gold piece for you later on. Will you be off work tomorrow afternoon?"
"Si, Senor Swede, but then I must come back here for the night."
"Good! Then, just before you start work, you're to go to the Army post and leave a message for a Lieutenant Townsend, comprende?"
"I will do so. What am I to say to him?"
Archie Thorson frowned. "I've a better idea. You'll give the sentry this note for him. But be sure you don't deliver it till just before you start work."
"I understand."
Quickly, Archie Thorson scribbled on a piece of paper, Lieutenant Townsend-if you want to see your girl, come unarmed and alone to the Basin. Turn off at the Joshua tree and take the narrow trail past Devil's Lookout. A friend.
Folding it, he handed it to the stable boy. "One thing more, Joselito. If anyone asks you who gave you this note, tell them a stranger came to the stable and bribed you to take it to the post, savvy?"
"Si, Senor Swede, that is what I will tell them, verdad. And now I will hitch up your mare."
"Ah, just as I thought, Mrs. Thurston, there's an abandoned buckboard. It's clear to me now. The scalawags who made off with your niece must have taken her this far in that buckboard, and then gone along this turnoff narrow trail on horseback with her. Lucky for us both I know the way.
Elsie Thurston had got down from the buckboard and was fanning herself with a little Japanese ivory fan she had taken from her reticule. She was perspiring from the long bumpy ride, for the evening was still quite warm, and she had begun to regret not having discarded some of the encumbrances of clothing, such as her bustle and stays. But now as she stared out along the rim of the canyon, she turned to Archie Thorson and gasped, "Do you mean to say they rode along such a dreadfully narrow path? Why, one slip and the horse would fall into that deep canyon!"
"That's the way they took, no doubt about it, Ma'am. Look, you can see fresh hoof marks beyond here, but none going on the way we've been heading. They took her to the Basin."
"The-the Basin, Mr. Thorson?"
"It's a natural hideout for outlaws, Mrs. Thurston. The only other way into the Basin would be to skirt it from the south-which would take us a good thirty miles out of our way-and then up the steep rock formations, which are just about like small mountains. But down inside all that rock formation is a plateau, a basin, which gives the place its name."
"I-I see. Oh dear, this is awful! And you're sure she's there?"
"I'm positive, Ma'am. Anybody who'd kidnap a filly and hold her for ransom would be a damn fool to chance it out on the desert, what with the Army out on patrol, or bandits up from the border just looking for easy pickings. No, they'd head for the Basin every time. And what makes me still more positive, Ma'am, is when I talked to the stable boy just before you joined me, he said he remembered some fellows renting the buckboard from his boss. Then, just before he quit work for the night, he thought he saw something lying in the back of the buckboard, all covered up with a blanket."
"Ohh, my poor Dorothy! Then we must find her, Mr. Thorson. And Lieutenant Townsend and his men ought to be along very soon, don't you think?"
"I gave the boy a note to deliver to the post."
"Oh, I don't know what I would have done without you. When we rescue my poor niece, Mr. Thorson, I'm going to ask Lieutenant Townsend to-to give you a medal or something, for all you've done!"
"No need, Ma'am, just doing my bounden duty. The pleasure of your company is reward enough for a lonely old rancher like me, Mrs. Thurston."
"Now you mustn't say such daring things to a widow, Mr. Thorson, or you'll have me all aflutter," Elsie giggled.
"There's only one way to get into the Basin from here, so you'll just have to mount up on my mare behind me, Ma am.
"Oh... I... I'd die of fright, just looking down into that canyon, Mr. Thorson!"
"Then close your eyes, Ma'am. I've brought along my lariat, and you can wind it round the both of us, and hold on real tight, so there's no chance to fall. My mare's not skittish, and she's surefooted as a mountain goat. But, if you'll pardon my saying so, Ma'am, I think-er-you'd be a mite more comfortable if you could ease off some of your duds. Like that bustle. My mare won't take kindly to it nor will you if you try forcing it down on her back."
"Oh dear! Do-do I have to, Mrs. Thorson?"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself, Mrs. Thurston. We've only got one horse, and I'm the only one shell let ride her, or I'd put you on her and walk along."
Elsie hesitated, torn between fear and her guilty belief that she was mainly responsible for Dorothy's disappearance. "Well, all right, if you say so, Mr. Thorson. Please turn your back and-and don't you dare look till I say you may."
Smiling to himself, the bearded rancher turned to face the winding, narrow trail, while Elsie hastily hoisted up her long skirt, nervously groped behind her for the frame bustle and at last unlocked it This done, her face crimson, she hoisted it again to unfasten the drawstrings of two of her three petticoats. These, with the bustle, she placed on the floor of the buckboard, and finally put her bonnet atop the pile.
"I-I'm ready," she called, her voice unsteady. Oh, but it was a relief to have all that off in this weather! If it weren't that she would-well, move too loosely-she'd have taken off the stays as well.
"Fine! Now then, I'll help you up first, and then get on ahead of you. Take this lariat and, as soon as I'm in the saddle, wind one end round my waist and then make it fast around yours, Ma'am, understand?"
"I-I think so," she quavered. The mare snorted and Elsie recoiled, a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with anxiety. "Ohh, dear-I-I hope she-she's as surefooted as you say, Mr. Thorson!"
"No fear of that. Now you'd better tuck your skirt and petticoat well up-you'll have to ride astride her back, Mrs. Thurston. She doesn't know what side-saddle is out here, I'm afraid."
"Ohhh! But-but that-that's indecent!"
"It's practical, that's what-unless you want to let me go on by myself."
"Oh, very well. But-but please don't look-" Her blushes furious, Elsie stooped, caught up the hems of her skirt and the one remaining petticoat, and then gasped aloud to see her plump hips and loins veiled only by the batiste drawers and the cloth-covered steel stays which pushed her breasts up and out. She glanced frantically at the bearded rancher, but he had rolled a cigarette and was staring out over the canyon.
"Th-there, I-I'm ready now. You-you'll have to help me on the horse."
As he turned, she gasped again and it was all she could do to keep from yanking down skirt and petticoat. But he seemed to ignore the provocative display as he laconically ordered, "Over to the left of the horse, Ma'am. That's the side you mount up from every time. Now remember, I'll give you a leg up, and you scoot yourself behind the saddle. Here we go now-upsadaisy!"
"OHHH! OH MY! Ohhhh, Lord!" Elsie wailed as she felt herself propelled upward; just in time, she remembered to spread her legs, and came down heavily, her cunt banging on what seemed an unusually bony mare's back. The mare snorted, tossed her head, then looked back almost reproachfully. Elsie squirmed uncomfortably, but no matter how she shifted, she was almost painfully aware of the pressure against her straddled crotch.
"There, you see now? The worst is over. Here, catch the lariat-that's the girl! Now I'll just mount up, then you tie us together, and as tight as you can," he instructed as he swung himself up easily, patting the mare's head and gentling her.
The dark-brown-haired widow was glad for the distraction of tying the lariat around their waists as she told herself it was a good thing neither Lieutenant Townsend nor Dorothy's parents could see her unladylike posture.
"Is it good and tight? Let's see-fine, fine. All right, close your eyes and put your arms around me, Mrs. Thurston. Here we go!" Archie Thorson jovially ordered.
She didn't have to be told twice. Clutching him as if she were drowning and he was a floating log, Elsie sucked in her breath and kept her eyes tightly shut as she felt the mare move forward. It seemed hours before he at last chuckled, "The worst is over now, Ma'am. Here's Devil's Lookout."
The mare had stopped, and now the sound of a distant voice seemed to float down to her. She started as she heard Archie Thorson make sounds which resembled those of a hoot-owl, and then she heard the shot of rifle shot.
"Ohh! Wh-what in the world was that, Mr. Thorson?"
"The signal that we're safe and sound in the Basin, Mrs. Thurston, that's all. No need to get your wind up. You rode along just fine for an Easterner. And pretty soon well teach you how to ride a vaquero."
"What in the world is that, Mr. Thorson, some kind of horse?"
He glanced behind him. She was still clinging to him, her eyes closed, her face flushed and perspiring. "A two-legged kind, you might say, Ma'am." he replied. "Let's giddyap, we're almost there, girl!" he called to the mare as he touched her with his spurs. Elsie was pitched forward as the mare broke into a gallop, and she jounced and jiggled unceremoniously, her wailing protests interspersed with painful gasps as her crotch came up and down on the mare's hard back.
"There's the flathouse and the hacienda. Yes, we're here, Ma'am. Aqui, Esteban, Miguel, Perez! Hola. Juan, go tell Swift Antelope his replacement for Kathy Lorson's arrived in style!" Archie Thorson called.
Elsie Thurston uttered a horrified cry. He had reined up near the hacienda, and half a dozen Mexicans had hurried up to take the reins and to stand watching her with smirking stares as the bearded rancher swung down from the saddle, having untied the lariat and coiling it in his hand. "Help the lady down, boys!"
"You-you know these r-ruffians, Mr. Thorson?" Elsie stammered, a sudden anxiety gripping her.
"Better than I know you, Ma'am. Though you might say, I'm sure going to get to know you better damn quick. That's it, pull her off. Ah, here comes Swift Antelope!"
Already, eager hands were grabbing at Elsie's voluminous skirt, as she cried out and tried to maintain her uncomfortably straddled seat. With a shriek of terror, she felt herself toppled off, and then caught by three of the vaqueros, who promptly forced her down on the ground on her back. Two of them knelt at her head, each gripping a wrist, the third squatted at her feet and tugged up skirt and petticoat.
"OHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MR. THORSON, FOR GOD'S SAKE, TELL THESE MEN WHO I AM!"
she screamed, trying to jerk loose. But a fourth Mexican now knelt down and aided his compatriot in the trussing-up of skirt and petticoat, then attacked the stays and whisked them off.
Archie Thorson lighted his cigarette, grinning down at the flabbergasted widow. The handsome Comanche lieutenant stood beside him, and even as she continued the useless struggle to keep her clothes from being torn from her, Elsie could hear them talking in some guttural, unintelligible language.
"OH MY GOD! THEY'RE TAKING OFF ALL MY CLOTHES! STOP THEM, PLEASE, MR. THORSON! OH NOT MY DRAWERS, OH NOOOO! MR. THORSON, I BESEECH YOU, FOR GOD'S DEAR SAKE TELL THEM WHO I AM, THAT I'VE COME FOR MY NIECE!" she shrieked as she felt the fourth Mexican's fingers jerk loose the drawstrings of the batiste sheath and frenziedly tried to press her bottom so tightly against the ground that they wouldn't come down.
"They know who you are. They've been expecting you, Ma'am," Archie Thorson drawled. "Oh, you'll get to see Dorothy tonight, don't you fret. But first, you've got to furnish the boys a little fun, starting with Swift Antelope here. You see, the other night, he got rid of two squaws who broke one of the stronghold's laws, so he's pretty hard up for a good poking. Then I'm next, seeing as how I was one who brought you here. After that-well, we'll just let nature take its course, Ma'am."
"You-you-you-" Elsie spluttered, her throat choked with terror and shame, unable to speak.
"I'm one of them, Ma'am. The scalawags who helped make off with that long-legged blonde niece of yours. Get those drawers off, Juan! Never mind the rest of her duds for now, Swift Antelope's a pussy man, not a tittie-lover!"
She was dreaming again. The forest was darker and thicker than it had been before, and not even the moon's rays reached it, making the gnarled trees look like leering gargoyles. She was there, naked, and she could hear the sound of rustling branches and the padding of feet coming ever closer and closer.
Her heart was pounding like a triphammer, and she tried to cry out but couldn't. Blindly, she turned and ran, not knowing which path to take among the rows of trees, nor where it would lead. For a moment she stopped to get her breath, only to hear the sound of footsteps, closer than ever now and hurrying, crackling the dead leaves as they trod upon them.
She was shivering, even though the night breeze was warm. She could feel her flesh crawling at the thought of what awaited her if the pursuer caught up with her. She was so very tired; she wanted to rest, but she couldn't. There was the sudden hoot of an owl above her, and she uttered a stifled cry and stumbled on, turning down this nearest row of towering trees, hoping the murky darkness would hide her.
Then suddenly, she found herself in a clearing, and the moon dappled the grass and the trees, and she could see the stars. She sank down on her knees, trembling. And as she lifted her face, she recoiled, her mouth opening in a cry that would not come. There stood a tall painted Indian, wearing only a warbonnet and moccasins, his arms folded over his chest, a cruel smile on his thin lips. Slowly he bent to her, plunged his fingers into her hair. She moaned and twisted, but in vain. And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the Indian vanished, and she found herself lying on her back, and a man was lying beside her. Now the moon had disappeared and it was dark again even in the clearing. But somehow, she was no longer afraid.
She felt his hands on her breasts and thighs, and a warm, quivering, tantalizing sensation began to stir in her. His lips brushed her nipple, and she moaned again, but not in fear this time. His fingers were ever so gentle, grazing the flesh of the valley between her swelling breasts. His other hand was along her thigh, rising with incalculable slowness, his touch sending quickening waves of pleasure through every cranny of her body. She tried to see his face, but could not; she reached out her arms to him, and she heard herself call out in a languorous voice, "Jabez-oh, my Jabez-oh my very dearest!" And she felt her thighs widen of their own accord...
Dorothy Maxton's eyelids fluttered open. Her dark-blue eyes widened, and then she uttered a startled cry, "Ohh-Ohh my God-what-oh noooo!" She lay, naked but for the red leather pumps, on the huge bed. It was Brian's face she saw bending over her; beyond, at the foot of the bed, was Sandoval. Her thighs were yawned apart, and now as she stared, she saw that Brian's forefinger pressed against her apex, his other hand cupping one of her breasts. She felt the silken caress of her own hair, and she saw that it had been combed out and drawn over her cheeks.
"Glad to have you back with us, Dorothy girl," he grinned. "Only, I'm not Jabez. You were calling for him when I was tickling that perky little button you've got-ringing your doorbell, you might say."
She clenched her thighs, shrank back on the pillow, eyes widening, questioning, as a fiery blush suffused her cheeks. "Oh-I-I-" her voice was choked.
"You fainted when Crazy Elk's spunk went down your gullet, that's all. I won't bawl you out about that, though. You made him real happy, and that's all Mex and I care about right now. But if it had been my spunk you made such a fuss over swallowing, I'd have fan tailed your big white ass for fair, Dorothy girl. Anyhow, you had a nice little rest, just in time for the evening's real festivities. And I see you were having naughty dreams again-my finger's all wet from that hot tight cunt of yours."
"Stop it! I won't listen to your dirtiness! Stop it!" she wailed, clapping her hands over her face and rolling over onto her belly.
"You don't have to take my word for it, Dorothy girl. You can take Elsie's. She's a real authority on how frequent doses of a stiff prick perk up a lazy cunt."
"My-my aunt is a decent, respectable widow, and it's vile of you to bring her name to your shameless lips!" Dorothy gasped, pressing herself tightly down against the sheets as if to shrink her nakedness before the two grinning onlookers.
"Of course she's decent and respectable, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy a good hot fuck. She got two from me the other afternoon, and you'd have thought it was her wedding night, the way she bucked and wriggled," Brian chuckled. "If she'd come into the bathroom for another bath instead of you, Dorothy girl, I swear I'd have brought her here ahead of you. As it turned out, she never did get even her first bath, which is why I've arranged for her to have one in Max's own private bathroom."
"You-you what?" she gasped, turning her face to look up at him.
"That's right, Dorothy girl, you've got company. Now you better put that shawl back on. What would Aunt Elsie think if she could see her favorite niece bare-assed naked in the company of two cunt-loving gentlemen like ourselves? She might jump to the conclusion that you were stealing a march on her. Yes sirree, Dorothy girl, she might even be jealous!"
"Oh, this is unbelievable! You're just saying those disgusting, horrible things to plague me!"
"Max, didn't you hear the signal gun about half an hour ago?
"Of course I did, Brian boy. But I don't think the men have finished welcoming Mrs. Thurston to the Basin. Better allow her another half hour before she takes that bath. And for the sake of decorum, maybe it'd be better if she didn't see Miss Dorothy till after she's taken it."
"I quite agree. Let's take Dorothy girl out to the kitchen and give her a good stiff drink to settle her nerves. What with worrying about her aunt and discovering that she's got a squinny, wet cunt, our charming guest is likely to throw a tantrum. Come along, honey!"
He seized her by an elbow and jerked her off the bed. Dorothy shrieked and tried to slap at him. Laughingly, Brian parried her blow by ducking, then cuffed her smartly across the cheek with the flat of his hand. "Don't try that again, sweetheart," he warned. "You'll notice I combed your hair out while you were dreaming of your Jabez locked right into your hot little saddle. I did it for two reasons. First, because you look more womanly that way and less like a statue up on a pedestal. But second and most important of all, because I can drag you by it when you get the least big uppity. Now pick up your shawl, it's on the floor right in front of you."
Her eyes blazing, her titties violently heaving, Dorothy stared back at him for a moment; then, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, she stooped to retrieve the black silk-lace shawl. Brian timed his maneuver to the exact second when her ripe white bottom was tautly upturned by applying a loud, stinging slap with his right palm on each of the upstanding hillocks.
"OWWWOUU! OH YOU BEAST!" she squealed as she straightened, plunged a hand back to rub the vividly colored area.
"Don't drop that shawl or it'll be my belt next time, Dorothy girl! Now march!"
"I'll go run a nice hot tub for Mrs. Thurston," Sandoval laughingly volunteered. "Then I'll go out and see if the boys are finishing up with her. I know shell be delighted to find Miss Dorothy already enjoying our Basin hospitality."
Brian puffed at his cheroot as he contemplated the crestfallen young woman seated with her head bowed in her heads across from him at the kitchen table. She had wound the gauzy shawl over her titties and between her legs as before; yet with her honey-colored tresses streaming down almost to her waist, he found her excitingly different. A half-empty glass of whiskey was beside her; he had had to pinch her bottom and threaten her with a thrashing to get her to drink that much.
"Say, I just heard Max whistle! It means Aunt Elsie's finished her ablutions, as they say back in Philadelphia. Come along. We'll give you five minutes for your reunion, all by yourselves." Brian bent and seized her by the armpits, drew her to her feet. "Ask her if she didn't like what I gave her. Maybe it'll convince you once and for all. If it doesn't," he shrugged, "I can always try the old reliable method. Get along there, Dorothy girl. I only hope Aunt Elsie doesn't faint when she sees your outfit."
As Brian opened Sandoval's bedroom door and pushed Dorothy inside, closing it behind her, Elsie Thurston slowly emerged from the bathroom, a huge Turkish towel wound around her from bosom to loins. Her eyes were red and swollen, her head dropped, and she moved listlessly.
"Aunt Elsie-oh my God, what have they done to you?'"
"D-Dorothy-oh my poor sweet darling-oh, in a way, I wish I hadn't found you in this dreadful place!" Elsie stumbled forward, sniffling loudly, and as she reached to hug her blonde niece, the towel dropped to the floor. "Ohh-d-don't look-oh, D-Dorothy, I-I'm such a fool-I let a man I met at-at the saloon back in Laredo talk me into coming out here. He-he said some men had kidnapped you and were holding you for ransom. It-it was just a trick to get me out here-and now they've got us both and we're helpless!"
"You couldn't help it, Aunt Elsie. It was wonderful of you to think of trying to save me. But you ought to have gone to the post for help. Jabez would have brought the soldiers out here." Dorothy Maxton tried hard not to look at her aunt's buxom pink-sheened nudity, but Elsie's arms convulsively hugged her, and she could feel her aunt's naked titties pressing hard against her own.
"Oh my God-I just thought of something awful! Ohh, I've been such a fool! If only I'd told you about that awful man who had the room next door to us in the hotel-maybe this would never have happened!"
"Try to calm yourself, dear Aunt Elsie. What did you just think of? "
"The-the man who tricked me said he'd sent the stable boy to the post to warn Jabez where we were going. I-I'm pretty sure he lied about that too. So we're helpless, my poor darling, at the mercy of these-these animals!" Suddenly aware of her nakedness, Elsie Thurston disengaged herself, stooped and clutched the towel over her cunt and titties, holding it with both hands, keeping her back turned to preserve what modesty she could. "Aunt Elsie-what-what did they do to you?"
"Oh-I-I'd die before I told you! But you, darling-my sweet pure girl-have-have they hurt you?"
Now it was Dorothy's turn to blush and lower her eyes. Silently, she nodded. Elsie wailed despairingly, "Ohh, it's all my fault! Here I was your chaperone, and I failed you, all because I was too ashamed to tell you about that man. I-I ought to have had him arrested by the marshal right away for-for what he did to me!"
"It-it was Brian Moss, wasn't it, Aunt Elsie? Black-haired and tall-was that the one? "
"Y-yes. Ohh, Dorothy, how can you ever forgive me for what I got you into?"
"You mustn't think of that now, Aunt Elsie. Maybe-maybe we can escape some night, when it's late and they aren't guarding us. Maybe Jabez will figure out who's got us and come for us, after all."
"Oh, I pray he will, I do, my poor sweet darling! Ohh, just look at what they've done to you-that shawl and those high-heeled, dance-hall shoes! T-tell me-did-did anyone hurt you-you-you know what I mean? Oh, and to think you were coming out here to marry dear Jabez, a girl who hadn't even been kissed except by her intended!" Elsie Thurston again began to sniffle, then sob loudly as she owed her head. Her trembling hands let the towel lower enough for her blonde niece to see the livid fingermarks on those big round, pink, satiny titties.
"Ohh, Aunt Elsie-those awful marks!"
"You m-mustn't look-men are such beasts-oh, my poor child, but you haven't told me-did-did anybody t-touch you?"
Dorothy bit her lips, then nodded. "I'm afraid so, Aunt Elsie. I wanted to die, because-well, because I was saving myself for Jabez. But I didn't, as you see. And I want to live, so I can get away from here-and-and pay them back, every last one of them. Especially him!"
"You-you mean that awful Mr. Moss? Oh, did you know he-he pulled me right out of the tub and-ohh, I ought to bite my tongue off, you just can't imagine-and then when that man brought me here-all those men-oh, Dorothy, Dorothy, what are we going to do?"
The door suddenly swung open and Sandoval and Brian reappeared. "Leave it to Max and me to tell you, Aunt Elsie," the latter chuckled. "Well now, that's a touching reunion if ever I saw one. You might as well drop the towel altogether, Aunt Elsie, I don't think you'll be needing it for a while. Tell me, though, did you enlighten your tasty niece on the fun we had in bed that afternoon you were all set for a nice cozy bath?"
"Ohhhh! You-you wretched creature!" Elsie moaned, as she flung protectively her arms around her niece, momentarily forgetting that in so doing she dropped the towel to the floor. "That scoundrel who brought me here-I told him I had a thousand dollars with me-take it and-and let my niece go-and-and I'll stay in her stead!"
"Why, Aunt Elsie, you've got some spunk up your backbone after all," Brain joked. "But I'm afraid Max and I place a higher value on your niece than that, especially now that we've each had a chance to fuck her tight hot cunt."
"OHHHH!!! the buxom dark-brown-haired widow uttered a cry of utter consternation.
"Besides, I wouldn't think of letting her go till she's finished her training," the black-haired Comanchero aide pursued. "All right, Dorothy girl, take that shawl off, get down on your knees, come craw! over to me, pull off my boots and beg me nice and humbly to give your cunt a good hard fucking!"
Dorothy stiffened, her lips parting in a wordless gasp. Her dark-blue eyes fixed Brian with a defiant glare as she watched him sprawl at his ease in a low armchair, thrusting out his booted feet. "I'm waiting, Dorothy girl," he drawled.
Elsie Thurston stared first at her niece, then at Brian. "Oh my God, don't do this to her, I beg of you!" she moaned. But Sandoval came forward, and, seizing one of her wrists, twisted it behind her back; again the towel dropped to the floor. "Let's you and I watch the fun from this chair, Mrs. Thurston," he blandly directed. And when Elsie tried to pull away in her near-hysterical dread for Dorothy, he applied a vicious pinch to one of her ripe hips and made her stumble forward with a squeal of pain. Seating himself in an armchair on the other side of the room, he pulled the hapless widow down onto his lap, his left arm circling her waist, his right hand gripping both wrists. "There now, stay still if you know what's good for you-or maybe you'd like to go back outside and meet more of the boys?"
"OH NOOOO!!!" Elsie's frantic wail was almost comical.
"Then sit here and behave yourself. Archie Thorson tells me you could just as easily as not have stayed outside all night long, servicing the gang. Even after your sixth poking, he says, you wriggled your big soft ass like a young whore who's turning her first trick and wants the madame to hear compliments about her work!"
"Oh, that's not true, oh, those cruel beasts nearly killed me!" Elsie moaned, her face a fiery-red as she saw Dorothy turn to stare at her.
"Well, now, Mrs. Thurston, I wouldn't expect a decent respectable widow who hasn't had regular poking for five long years to be so bold as to admit she can't get enough prick at one time to make up for the time she's wasted. But I'll take the Swede's word over a stack of Bibles any time. Go ahead, Brian boy, let's see you tame that blonde wildcat. If you can't, then maybe Mrs. Thurston can be persuaded to show her niece how to benefit from her own exciting experience!" Sandoval chuckled as he tightened his hold on the red-faced widow, who by now could feel the hard prod of his swollen cock digging against her bare bottom.
The beribboned blonde ignored him, however. Continuing to look at her naked aunt who still uneasily shifted herself over Sandoval's lap, she demanded, "Aunt Elsie, is what that man says true? Did-did you actually en-enjoy what they did to you?"
"Dorothy Maxton! How can you ask such a horrid question, when you've been brought up so properly!" Elsie wailed, but her face turned redder than ever. Sandoval, with a mocking laugh, tightened the viselike circle of his left arm around her waist and began to fondle one of her titties with his right hand, his thumbpad rubbing the dark, turgid nipple back and forth.
"Believe me, Miss Dorothy, the Swede doesn't lie. He was the second to fuck her. From what he says, she bucked like a wild bronco at a rodeo when she felt his cock shoved to the hairs inside her itchy cunt," was Sandoval's rejoinder.
"OHHHH! THAT'S A LIE, THAT'S NOT TRUE, I FOUGHT ALL I COULD, BUT THEY HELD ME DOWN! OH, DOROTHY, FOR DEAR LORD'S SAKE, DON'T LISTEN TO HIS VILENESS!" Elsie shrilled.
Slyly, Sandoval plunged his right hand down between Elsie's plump pink-sheened thighs; his forefinger explored just .inside the pouting, swollen, chafed-looking lips of her cunt and pressed her clitoris. Instantly, she stiffened, her eyes widening; then her hips began to jerk and writhe, as she moaned, "Oh-G-God-don't-oh not in front of her-ahhh-l-let me go-I beg you, stop-stop-ahh-ohh, I'll faint, I can't stand it-oooo-ahhhh!"
Her head tilted back, her eyes rolling, nostrils opening and clenching, and the rise and fall of her finger-splotched titties accelerated. Sandoval removed his finger, grinned at the tall, shawl-draped blonde, "There's your answer from the source itself, Miss Dorothy. Just one ring of Mrs. Thurston's doorbell, and she's primed and ready for visitors!"
"All right, Dorothy girl, you can start showing Aunt Elsie what an apt pupil you've become, now that you know she's not entirely without impure feelings herself," Brian taunted. "Get that shawl off, pronto!"
Dorothy's breath had quickened, and the color in her cheeks was high as she turned to face him, fists clenched at her sides. "No. I won't!" her voice quivered with defiance.
"Won't you now? We'll see about that." Leisurely, he rose from the armchair, proceeded to unbuckle the black leather belt and drag it out of the loops, then swung it with a wicked crack in the air. "Take that shawl off, get down on your knees and crawl right over here to lick my boots and beg for your fucking, Dorothy girl!"
"I said I won't!" her tone betrayed a kind of shrill anxiety.
"Let's see if I can't change that pouty answer of yours, Dorothy girl." The belt rose, fell sharply across one shoulder, leaving a bright pink streak. Dorothy caught her breath, but courageously stood her ground. The second lash stung her other shoulder with an even noisier smack. She caught her breath and winced, her fists jerking up at her breasts as her dark-blue eyes rebelliously fixed his.
"It's clear now. You want to be forced, so Aunt Elsie won't be able to chide you for being a naughty little slut whose cunt is probably wet and hot already just from thinking about how I'm going to fuck it. I'll be happy to oblige you all the way, Dorothy girl," he mocked. The belt flailed straight across her breasts, and Dorothy stumbled back, clutching the tender globes with a loud gasp, "You-you coward!"
"Because I whipped those juicy titties of yours? Don't worry, your ass will get more than its fair share," he rejoined. Crossing swiftly behind her, he directed a whistling stroke across her bare upper back, following it with a diagonal cut that made the black leather band ardently cling to the impudently exposed cheeks of her bottom.
"Oww! I won't, do you hear? You can kill me, but I won't!" she cried out shrilly, twisting around to fend off a repetition of those last two painful cuts, her ribbon-adorned honey-hued tresses dancing against her supple back.
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, just bring you back to life, Dorothy girl," Brian drawled, cutting her across the base of her panting breasts, then getting in a quick smacking cut over her milky belly. With a scream, the blonde captive doubled up, rubbing at her burning bosom, and Brian instantly profited from her discomfiture. Getting behind her, he seized the thick sheaf of her hair in his left hand and began to lay the doubled leather band to her jouncy buttocks in short crisp thwacking blows that made her wail with pain. Dancing from pump-shod foot to foot, trying to jerk her hair free of his grip, her hands thrust back to cover up her almost entirely exposed and rapidly reddening bottomcheeks.
"Ohh, don't let him hurt my poor darling, please don't!" Elsie sobbed hysterically, as she twisted her tear-stained, flushed face back to the grinning Sandoval.
"Sorry, Mrs. Thurston. This is Brian's show, and he wouldn't take it kindly at all if I interfered. Besides, he's given me an idea. You're going to get down on your knees and beg me for a hot poking just as soon as your niece has sense enough to give in, understand? Otherwise I'll borrow his belt to use on your fat backside!"
"OHHHH!!" Elsie's mouth gaped in a cry of aghast dismay, and she tried to wriggle off his lap.
"Not yet," he purposely mistook her maneuver for obedient alacrity. "I'm not horny enough for your cunt, Mrs. Thurston. Stay right where you are and watch." And with this, he again slid his forefinger in between the twitching lips of her cunt and began to tickle the sensitive nubbin of her clitoris, while Elsie writhed and squealed, her contorted face turning from side to side.
Brian had continued the pitiless flurry of lashes over Dorothy's plunging, twisting bottom. Dorothy Maxton's pump-heels beat a sporadic tattoo on the carpet as she danced from foot to foot, lunged her hips this way and that, bent and then straightened, groped for his left hand with hers to try to break the painful hold of her disheveled tresses. "Ahrr-ohh, you brute-ahhhh, it hurts! Damn you-ohhhh, owww! Oh my hair! Let go-ahrrr! Ohh, ohhh!"
Halting the punishment a moment to let her catch her breath, and tightening his grasp on the taut honey-hued sheaf, he stooped and administered several biting, smacking blows of the doubled leather belt against her sinuous milky calves and thighs. Dorothy's cries reverberated through the room, and she began to hop up and down in the most lascivious way, both hands thrust behind her to ward off that implacably biting belt.
"Oh, that's enough, that's enough, Mr. Moss," Elsie wailed as she frantically wriggled about over Sandoval's lap. "Please don't whip her so hard, you'll kill her! Oh, my poor darling, do what he wants and you won't have to endure such torture! Oh, I know it's sinful, but I can't blame you if you give in-ohh, look at those awful red marks on your lovely tender white skin, my poor darling!"
"Yes, be sure you do, Mrs. Thurston," Sandoval tauntingly interposed, his right forefinger once again probing into Elsie's cunt and rolling her clitoris this way and that, "because you'll get an even better dose from me if you don't obey my orders!"
Now, releasing the victim's hair, Brian stepped back and swept the belt its full length across the tops of her hips. Dorothy's hands grabbed the smarting place as she shook her head till her hair danced, uttering raucous sobs and groans. The belt slashed across the middle of her thighs, a third time, over her kneehollows, and with a plaintive, prolonged cry she stumbled onto her knees, bowing her bead and still feverishly rubbing her welted behind. Stepping to the left, the black-haired Comanchero aide swung down the belt with all his strength, welting the milky, deeply hollowed back; Dorothy Maxton writhed, shrieked, and covering her face with her hands, bowed down her head as if abandoning herself.
"Oh no, no, hell kill you, Dorothy darling!" Elsie moaned. Turning her agonized face back to Sandoval, she implored, "Oh, stop him, stop him-and-and I'll do anything you want!"
"You will anyway, Mrs. Thurston," the Comanchero leader chuckled. "Your niece is old enough to make her own decisions, I'd say. Now sit still, or I'll pinch your nipples off, so help me!" His right thumb and forefinger brushed one turgid bud, and Elsie at once subsided into whimpering surrender.
"Don't count on my arm getting tired, Dorothy girl," Brian hoarsely exclaimed. "I can swing leather just as well with the other. Now, are you about ready to do what you're told?" And the belt descended with an angry crack, horizontally wealing her just above the shinbone.
"Aiiii! Ohh, God!" with a poignant scream, she flung herself flat on the carpet, clawing at it with her fingernails. Brian lifted his booted left foot, planted it solidly on the middle of her bare wealed back, and then began to whip her bottom with rapid, diagonal cuts. Frenzied by the burning pain, Dorothy kicked up one leg, then the other, tried to dislodge the rasping, spurred boot from her shuddering back, and finally, as the black leather band smacked against the inside of her right thigh, capitulated, "Eoowowouuuu! Ohh, stop, stop, I've had enough!"
"You'll do everything I tell you to, then?" Thwackk-he punctuated the question with a vicious slash across the base of her bottom.
"Ahrrowoooouuu!! Yes, yes, I swear I will, only, for God's sake, stop, ohh stop!"
Almost contemptuously, he moved back to the armchair and sprawled himself in it, legs extended and straddled. "Then start by taking off that shawl. Stand up to do it!"
Panting, sobbing, she planted her palms on the floor and painfully, slowly, hoisted herself to her knees. Totteringly, she rose, and sobbing hoarsely, fumbled with the knots of the silk-lace shawl till at last it fluttered to the carpet.
"Now down on your knees and crawl over here, Dorothy girl! Take hold of my boots, kiss each one of them, and then speak your little piece!"
"Oh, to think I'd live to see such horror!" Elsie moaned, closing her eyes and bowing her head. But Sandoval's agile forefinger, once again finding her throbbing clitoris, made her start, wriggle and squeal.
Dorothy fought to control her sobs as reluctantly she moved toward the grinning Comanchero aide.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"All right. Now lift my foot up to your mouth and kiss it loud enough for Max and Elsie to hear," Brian directed as he stared greedily down at the shuddering, humbled blonde captive.
Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet his. "Isn't it-isn't it enough for you to-to take me? Must you-sh-shame me too?" she murmured in a low, unsteady voice that only he could hear.
Leaning forward, he caught her tumbled tresses, twisted them to draw her face closer. "Yes, you prissy bitch, I've got to shame you till you forget what shame means. Then's when you'll be a woman, only then. Now do it, just like I said!" He gave her hair a jerk as he released it, then leaned back to await her compliance.
Her face scarlet and wet with tears, the blonde young woman took hold of his left boot, raised it to her lips and applied a reluctant kiss upon the instep.
"Louder than that! Max didn't hear it!" he commanded.
Grinding her teeth, Dorothy Maxton forced herself to repeat the demeaning ritual, and this time the smacking sound of her lips on Brian's dusty boot satisfied him. "That'll do for that one. Now the other. And don't let me have to tell you to do it over again, or I'll take my belt to your bit titties," he warned.
Elsie, still pinioned on Sandoval's lap, was sniffling, yet she couldn't keep from covertly watching, for what she saw was absolutely incredible. Brian's booted right foot was lifted to her niece's mouth, and then even she heard the sound of the kiss of humility.
"That's fine. Now let's hear you speak your piece, Dorothy girl. Ask me nice and sweet to give your cunt a good hard poking!"
Once again Dorothy's dark-blue eyes rose to fix Brian's intent, mocking face. Her nostrils twitched and shrank. and a furious wave of red suffused her cheeks. Please," she whispered. "Oh, please!"
"Say it loud so everybody hears you Or do you need more coaxing, hm?" He brandished the doubled belt above her scarlet face.
"Oh no-I'll say it-" she squirmed uneasily on her knees, her breasts erratically surging. "Please-h-have me-"
"That's not what I told you to say, Dorothy girl. Don't let words throw you. We both know you know just what fucking means and what that hairy cunt of yours is really for. Now say it!" his voice became sibilant and menacing; once again the belt rose.
Taking a deep breath, the kneeling captive stammered, "Please-I-I want you-to-to give me a-g-good p-p-poking-"
"That's better. And what am I supposed to poke, Dorothy girl?"
His left hand clutched her tumbled hair, gave it a warning yank. "My cunt-my c-cunt!" she fairly screamed, then burst into hoarse, shuddering sobs.
"It took you long enough," he grumbled as he rose. "Now get over to that couch and spread your legs, and I'll give you what you just begged for, Dorothy girl."
Rising unsteadily to her feet, her face hidden in her hands, Dorothy walked dejectedly toward the couch, while Brian opened the fly of his breeches and drew out his already violently swollen prick. Elsie covered her eyes with the crook of her left arm, but Sandoval hissed, "Now it's your turn, Mrs. Thurston. Get right down and kiss my boots, too, then ask me for a good rogering, if you don't want your big ass belted bloody!" Even as he spoke, he turned to watch the tall, naked woman, and his lips twisted with spite.
"I'm waiting, Mrs. Thurston," Sandoval leaned toward the sobbing widow. "And I might add that after I thrash you bloody and fuck you anyway, I'll send you back out to your eager admirers in the courtyard. They're sure to keep you busy all night long without a wink of sleep."
"Ohh noooo! I-I'll say it-only don't let those brutes touch me again! I-I-oh, it's so shameful-I-I w-want you to-to-to-p-p-p-poke me!"
"Say it over again, and this time put a please to it!" Sandoval growled. "Brian, before you cover Miss Dorothy, be a good fellow and toss me your belt, would you?"
"OH NOO! DON'T WH-WHIP ME! OH PLEASE, PLEASE G-GIVE ME A G-GOOD P-P-POKING, PLEASE DO IT AND DON'T WHIP ME!" Elsie wailed.
Brian stood looking down at his milky-naked victim, silently appraising the agitated swell of her titties which betrayed her self-imposed attempt at stoicism. Then, kneeling down, he ran his palms over her belly and inner thighs, studying her face all the while. Her lips compressed, her eyes tightly shut, one arm limp along her side, the other hand pressing against her forehead, she awaited her ordeal.
His left hand cupping her breast, his right palm lingeringly grazing the shivering milky flesh of her belly, he prolonged that ordeal, glancing around to watch Sandoval bend and jerk Elsie by the elbow up from her knees and lead her to the bed, then, with a noisy slap to her plump bottom, urge her to clamber upon it and ready herself.
"Ohh, f-forgive me, my poor darling, that I ever got you into this," Elsie wept as she abandoned herself. Then, her eyes huge and supplicating, she whimpered, "Oh, please, n-not too hard-oh, be g-gentle with me, I-I'm so sore there already!"
But Sandoval did not deign to answer. Seizing Elsie's dimpled knees, he shoved them back up against her heaving titties. Crouching forward on his knees, he thrust his swollen prick deep into her proffered gaping cunt, and then ruthlessly began to plough her furrow while she moaned and sobbed.
Brian, however, continued his deliberate dalliance. Removing one of Dorothy's pumps, he playfully tickled her toes and the delicate arch till she gasped, "Oh, f-for God's sake, do it to me and be done with it! Don't shame me like this in front of my aunt-that's all I ask of you!"
Again he glanced back over his shoulder I d say right now Aunt Elsie has enough on her mind to keep her occupied without thinking of you, Dorothy girl. And don't forget, you're the one who begged for this fuck, so you'll take it just the way I give it to you."
His fingertips traced a slow pathway up one milky, flexing calf and thigh, while his left palm moved down to her abdomen, brushing the dark-gold fleece where it began to grow. Her head tilted back, her forehead furrowed, her eyes still closed, but now involuntary tremors rippled her body. Gradually, descending his left palm, he caressed her just above her cunt, and now joined his right forefinger to the siege, grazing the pink labia with occasional touches that made her arch and squirm. Her face was crimson, and she ground her teeth to stifle the telltale gasps of enervation which this unexpected prelude had begun to evoke.
Suddenly, he bowed his head and crammed his tongue into her cunt. Dorothy Maxton uttered a hoarse cry, tried to sit up and groped for him with her hands, but Brian had already straightened and now flung himself over her, his left hand seizing her wrists and his right grabbing one of her titties. "Just wanted to great my dry prick, Dorothy girl," he muttered, "but from now on, you'll furnish your own grease and plenty of it, or my name's not Brian Moss!"
Her face twisted in aversion, but her eyes widened as she felt him dig to the balls inside her sheath. He kept himself immobilized till he could feel the rhythmic pulsations of her cunt in tune with his own straining urgencies, and then his mouth came demandingly down on hers.
"Mmm-ahhaghhhmffff!!" she moaned, frantically trying to free her mouth, and wrenching at her wrists. Slowly, then, he drew himself back halfway; halted, then crammed home to the balls, making her jerk convulsively beneath him. Her panting breath from flaring nostrils fanned his face and her eyes were enormously dilated, holding his gaze with mingled rancor and wonder. Once again he drew back, this time almost to the rims of her cuntlips, and again she jerked fitfully. But even as she arched, Brian hilted himself with an energetic dig, and her face twisted from side to side, his mouth always imprisoning hers.
His right hand caressed her shuddering breast, and now he released her wrists, but only to slip his left hand under her bottom. Her eyes rolled, her prolonged, stifled moan announced that his forefinger was nuzzling up against the shrinking fissure of her asshole. With a supreme effort, she managed to jerk her mouth free, and gasped, "D-don't do-do that to me-oh d-don't!"
"When are you ever going to stop being prissy, Dorothy girl? Forget that Philadelphia brain of yours for a change and let your body take over! Arch your ass up a little so I can get my finger all the way into your bung, that'll help you enjoy your fuck!"
"Noooo-ahhrn!-owwww! OH YOU BEAST!" she wailed desperately. His right thumb and forefinger had pinched her nipple so cruelly that she writhed and jerked-and at that moment, she felt his other forefinger gouge to the hilt inside her anus. Now she felt his prick draw slowly back along her quaking sheath, and when she tried to cry out again, his lips bruisingly clamped over hers to silence her.
On the bed, Elsie was wriggling and moaning, gasping for breath as Sandoval vigorously fucked her, still jamming her round pink knees up against her flattened titties. Her hands ineffectually shoved at his hairy chest, and her tear-blinded eyes no longer followed the fate of her niece across the room.
Now, complete master of his blonde captive, Brian began to fuck her with slow delving digs, waiting a moment before drawing back, while his forefinger turned and twisted slowly in her distended asshole and his other hand stroked the hardening nipple of her heaving white breast. She had closed her eyes now, but there were deep lines in her forehead and her nostrils flared and shrank more quickly. Once again grinding her teeth, she tried her best to suppress the gasps and moans which surged to her pulsing throat; seeing this attempt at stoicism, Brian smiled and lowered his right hand.
Her head rose, her eyes exorbitant. "Ohhhh don't-ohh don't, don't-ahh-don't!" she sobbed. Her bottom jerked and ground against the couch. He had begun to frig her clitoris. And this triple assault was devastating; she felt suddenly as if she were going to faint, and there was a roaring in her ears. Neglecting her mouth, he bent his head to her bottom, his lips nuzzling the hardened, darkened bud of a nipple, and now he began to quicken his thrusts inside her tortured cunt.
"Ohh noo-ahh-don't-oh let me be-I don't want you to-ahh-oh God-ohh-Aunt E-Elsie-ahh-ohhh my God-ahh stop, ohh take your fingers away-OH NOOOO! OHH GOD OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO DIE, I'M-AHHHHOUUUU!!!"
Without warning, just as he thrust to the balls inside her churning cunt, Dorothy's body arched and stiffened; her head fell back, mouth gaping in her feverish wail. And then her arms clutched him violently as she felt the throbbing explosion of her senses deep within her straining body.
"Now, you sweet bitch, now!" he cried exultantly. Reaming his finger to and fro inside her tensing asshole, he drew back and thrust several rapid, short times, applying a final fillip to her turgid clitoris. Then his own primal essence burst like a torrent into her womb and he groaned aloud as, pillowing his head on her heaving, perspiring bosom, he felt her writhing body vibrate in tune with his own.
A long moment later, as he drew limply out of her, lax with pleasure, he found Sandoval seated on the edge of the bed smoking a cigar while Elsie, huddled into a ball of quivering pink flesh, wept softly with her hands over her face.
"I'll have to acknowledge your talents as a cocksmith, Brian boy," the Comanchero leader chuckled. "It didn't take me nearly as long, but, then, Mrs. Thurston's not nearly so complicated as that long-legged blonde filly. You know, I've been thinking that maybe we ought to revise that law of share and share alike. I'd let you have a few bags of gold-dust for your share of the claim to Miss Dorothy."
"You mean you want her all to yourself, eh, Max?"
"That 8 the general idea."
"Sorry to cross the chief, but no dice, Max. Matter of fact, we even ought to give Crazy Elk a chance at her. What do you say to a poker game, with her and Elsie the stakes for the rest of the night?"
Sandoval frowned. "I suppose you're right. We've never yet quarreled over a bitch, Brian boy. I'll let the cards decide if Miss Dorothy's to share my bed. Only Crazy Elk doesn't play poker any too well."
"No, but he still can win a hand or two. And keeping the Comanche boss happy isn't too bad an idea, you'll admit."
"Who else'll we get?"
"What about Juan and Santiago Ortix, those hot-headed brothers who did so well on our last raid? It'd sort of be a pat on the back for work well done if you'd invite them up to the hacienda."
"You're a shrewd thinker." Sandoval eyed him levelly a moment. "Sometimes I wonder if you've got it in your mind to take over the stronghold."
"You've got no worries there, Max. I can't stand responsibility. Give me a free life, a bottle and a cunt when I need them, a good horse, a little work and a big payoff to show for it, and I'm your man every time. Want me to go round up our card players? "
"Go ahead. Meanwhile, I'll let our charming guests freshen up a bit for company."
Half an hour later, at the round table in the salon of the hacienda, Sandoval, Brian, Crazy Elk (who had donned a buckskin jacket besides his customary breechclout and moccasins in token of the social amenities of the occasion), and two handsome, tall Mexicans in their early thirties, the brothers Santiago and Juan Ortiz, sat playing cards. Stacks of poker chips were beside each one, and on the couch in the corner, huddled together holding hands and trembling, Elsie Thurston and her niece watched the outcome of the game.
"The two largest stacks of chips when we wind up, boys, take the girls," Sandoval had jovially explained. Then, turning to the Comanche chief who sat at his right, he translated into the war leader's own tongue. Crazy Elk's eyes glittered, and he nodded with a loud grunt of agreement.
Brian purposely threw into the discard two excellent hands, in each of which he had been holding a pair of face cards, so that Crazy Elk might win. Winking at Sandoval, he indicated his strategy, and the ex-Confederate officer pursed his lips and imperceptibly nodded. After all, if he expected Crazy Elk to lead his fiercest braves against Laredo once the Army was drawn away from the town in its attempt to rescue the widow and her niece, the price of a night with Dorothy Maxton wasn't really too high. But the glowering look he later turned on his black-haired aide showed that he had not forgotten the latter's refusal to give up the girl entirely. That was something that could be settled once Company C had been wiped out and the Basin operation was running smooth as a whistle again.
When the time limit of an hour was reached, Brian leaned back and lit a fresh cheroot, again winking at Sandoval. The Ortiz brothers were comfortable winners, and so was Crazy Elk, while his own pile was the smallest and Sandoval's the next. Toward the end of the game, Sandoval, disconcerted at the idea of losing both Elsie and Dorothy as bed companions for the night, had tried several risky bluffs and the cards had gone against him. On the last hand especially, which Brian himself had dealt, a vital ace had passed over to Santiago Ortiz instead of to the ex-Confederate officer.
Brian abruptly rose, poured out a shot of tequila and downed it with a gulp. "That does it, Max. I guess, unlike the old saying, tonight you and I are unlucky in both cards and love. Might as well get a good night's sleep. From what the Swede told us, we can expect some action by tomorrow evening."
Sandoval glared at him again, then managed a faint smile. "Oh, well, a man can't expect to be a winner every time, I guess, Brian boy. Only, that last hand did me in. If I'd won it, I'd have taken a pretty big pot, enough chips to stand me in good for a little fun with either Mrs. Thurston or Miss Dorothy. I was sure there was at least one ace to come in the draw."
"There was, but Santiago got it. Now let's see. Since Juan and Santiago have the biggest stack of chips, they get their choice."
"The senorita rubia, naturally," Juan, the younger of the brothers, smiled as he turned to study Dorothy Maxton on the couch, her thigh pressing tightly against her aunt's, one arm over her breasts, the other pressed over her hairy bush.
"Then Crazy Elk gets Elsie. Elsie, stand up, you're spoken for," Brian grinned.
Dorothy lay on a bed in one of the guest rooms at the back of the hacienda, biting her lips to keep from crying out. Santiago and Juan, both naked as she, lay on either side of her, fondling her swelling breasts and belly and sides, kissing her throat and nipples and armpits, till her flesh crawled with the tumultuous sensations roused by their by-play.
Now, she told herself, there would never be any chance for Jabez and herself to have any kind of life together. She was used, known by men carnally-just the way the Bible had described it in olden times. Her body had become impure; it could never again be the chaste vessel of wifehood to an upright man like Jabez Townsend. She would try to keep it from him, but if he asked her to marry him, she would refuse him; that would be the kindest thing to do, and, for her, the least humiliating. She would go back to Philadelphia, perhaps become a nurse, go somewhere, do something, in a way that would help her forget that her naked body had been the plaything for strange, hateful men who showed no pity to her purity.
She groaned aloud, suddenly; Juan, at her left, had cupped her breast and was nibbling at her nipple with his teeth while his hand stroked her inner thigh and then moved over her bush. Santiago, not to be outdone, bent his head to her other breast and rubbed the nipple with his tongue as he pried his forefinger between the lips of her pink cunt. Ohh, why couldn't she die, why weren't her prayers answered? If she died, then there would be no sin for Jabez to remember, or for Aunt Elsie...
But there was sin, and she was alive. She could feel her nipples tingle and harden as the two men sucked and tongued them, as their hands slid along her shuddering belly and thighs, their fingertips slyly tickling the rims of her slit, or, probing, finding the most sensitive touchstone of all. She writhed as the feverish throbbing in her bosom and between her thighs came upon her again-as it had done with Brian Moss.
Perhaps it would not have been so terrible if she had been his prisoner altogether. One man imposing his will and strength upon her because he was the stronger of the two-that would have been understandable even though odious because she loathed him for his sarcasm and his smug self-assurance of his male strength. But the frightful thing was that even with that man Sandoval, the head of the Comancheros, perhaps the worst killer and renegade and traitor of all the lawless men here in the Basin, and now with these two Mexicans, her body could not keep itself impervious to their rut.
Her eyes opened, bright with tears as they fixed on the ceiling, as she willed herself to lie like a statue, without movement or response. Then her body jerked as Juan Ortiz rubbed his forefinger-tip along her groin and his brother began to tickle a darkened, swollen nipple, and she bit her lips nearly to the blood in her despondent shame.
"Here we have a problem, mi hermano," Santiago muttered, cupping one of Dorothy's breasts with both hands and licking the nipple till her face turned restlessly back and forth on the pillow. "We have but one mujer for the night, so we must share her. But I am the elder, and so I shall have the first time with her."
"We are Comancheros," Juan retorted, "and our law is to share. Here in the Basin, we are Comancheros first and brothers afterwards."
"Juanito, do not make me angry with you, not over even this muy linda puta!"
"I do not wish to be angry, but you shall not be first just because you are older, Santiago!"
"Oh God!" the blonde captive groaned, a hand over her eyes.
"Besides, there is still a way to keep the Comanchero law and for both of us to enjoy her at the same time," Juan slyly proposed.
"Verdad? How is that to be, Juanito?"
"She has two holes, does she not, one in front, the other behind? There is one for each of us, mi hermano. And later, the second time, we shall exchange them, es todo!"
"Carramba, you have much wisdom, Juanito! So it will be."
"OH GOD, NOOOO!" Dorothy cried frantically as she comprehended. She tried to rise, but laughingly Santiago pinned her arms, then dragged her over his body, so that she lay atop him. "Now, mi hermano," he called, "Put it into the hole in front, and when you are well planted, I, Santiago, will put mine in the little brown hole. We shall work together in her, so that her two holes shall become as one!"
Dorothy tried to kick and twist, but in vain. Juan mounted over her, his hands cupping her panting breasts, and his mouth sealed hers to moaning silence. She arched, stiffening as she felt his prick stab into her cunt.
"There," he panted, "she has me to the cojones! I will help you lift her up so you can enjoy her too, mi hermano!" His hands gripped Dorothy's hips and lifted her, while Santiago, gripping her buttocks, yawned them apart, then dug his cock against the contracting rosette of her virgin asshole. As she felt his hot thick prong gouge remorselessly into the narrow inlet, her eyes rolled to the whites and she clawed at Juan Ortiz's back with her fingernails. Laughing at her struggles, the younger Mexican maintained her, his sinewy fingers biting into her writhing hips, till with a bellow of delight Santiago announced, "Yo soy aqui-I am inside her, little brother!"
"Bueno! Now let us share her the Comanche way, mi hermano!" Juan Ortiz panted.
Drawing back slowly, his hands clutching shuddering breasts, he saw his brother's hands clasp just above his on that moist white flesh; Santiago Ortiz, his face just above the blonde young woman's right shoulder, grinned at him, "Vamonos, Juanito!"
"AHH-OHH-Y-YOU'RE TEARING ME TO PIECES-OHH GOD-STOP IT-IT HURTS-OHH-AHH-OH TAKE THEM OUT, NOT BOTH AT ONCE-OH GOD-AHH, YOU'LL TEAR ME, YOU'LL SPLIT ME-AHHHH!" she wailed.
Beneath her, and weighed down by his brother as well as by Dorothy's shuddering milky body, Santiago Ortiz jerkily thrust his prick onwards, till at last he had hilted it inside her distended rectum. Juan, conversely, had begun to fuck her with rapaciously long thrusts, and, keeping his left hand on her breast, passed his right hand down between their straining bodies and began to tickle the fleshy moist runs of her cunthole.
Waves of blackness threatened to engulf her; and yet, after the first excruciating pangs of buggering, Dorothy Maxton began to whimper and to tremble, her eyes huge with the annihilating discovery that once again, just as with Brian and Sandoval, her body began to quake and churn. This time, the turmoil inside her vitals was indescribable; it seemed to her that both those hard rooting weapons had merged into a single gigantic probe visiting the most secret crannies of her being and drawing convulsive starts and uncontrollable muscular flexions over which she had not the slightest command. As Santiago, at last imbedded in her asshole to his very hilt, experimentally shifted himself under her and drew back an inch or two before shoving back to the roots, she felt the sudden shameful urge to defecate... and yet at the same time, the man atop her, quickening his thrusts, was producing a quivering, inexorable welling-up of sensations that made her sob aloud and at last dig her fists into the rumpled sheets and try to arch herself up to hasten their advent.
This time, it was even more devastating; sandwiched between their wiry, hairy bodies, Dorothy Maxton was made conscious of every part of her being, and the throbbing heat and friction that distended both her sexual orifices made her sob and groan, not now in actual physical pain but rather in sensual anguish as she was brought toward that suspended plateau between passion and fulfillment.
Now both men neared their own climactic release, and Santiago, with a hoarse shout, was first to send his bubbling gism deep into her bowels. She cried out and squirmed, her face turning to one side, as Juan Ortiz, hastening his thrusts, lunged to the balls and shot his essence into her churning cunt.
As his head pillowed on one of her shuddering titties, Dorothy's eyes glazed and widened; a shivering spasm flexed her thighs and belly, and then she felt the hot juices surge from the very depths of her womb and merge with the viscous flow of her ravisher. Her nails ripped at the sheets, and a whimpering cry was torn from her. In the hazy blur of her feverishly roused senses, it seemed to her that it was Brian whose head lay on her white breast, black-haired, his sardonic features lax with the rapture of conquest.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brian yawned and stretched, flung off the sheet and blinked his eyes. He scowled, then remembered where he was, in one of the many guest rooms of the hacienda. He chuckled as he wondered what Elsie Thurston thought of an Indian wickiup as compared with a bedroom in the New Frontier Hotel. It was time to be up and doing; despite the chintz curtain stretching across the narrow window, he could tell the sun was already high; it must at least be ten in the morning.
He reached for a cheroot, then remembered he'd smoked his last one while watching the girls go off with their winners last night. Damn, but he was hungry enough to eat a mule! He swung his legs down the side of the bed, yawned again, shook his head to clear the cobwebs. Well, at least he'd had a comfortable night, sleeping in just his drawers. Trouble with sleeping with boots on, was when you had a hot dream about some fuckable filly, you started threshing around and woke yourself up jamming your heels together.
There was a faint knock at the door. He scratched his head, called out, "Come in!"
Then his jaw dropped as the door opened and Dorothy Maxton appeared carrying a silver tray on which were posed a platter of fried eggs and hot biscuits, a steaming cup of coffee and a whiskey glass filled with tequila.
"I'll be good Goddamned!" he breathed. She was naked in her high-heeled pumps, and the Ortiz brothers had capriciously untied some of the colored ribbons from her flowing honey-hued tresses and tied them to the sprigs of her dark-gold bush. Her eyes lowered, her cheeks scarlet, she waited uncertainly, holding the tray out awkwardly.
"Set it down next to me, Dorothy girl! Close the door." He reached for the whiskey glass, downed its contents with two gulps and smacked his lips. "Now I'm awake. Whose idea was this fancy hotel breakfast service?"
She didn't speak, but dropped her head, the color in her cheeks deepening.
"You, eh? Well, stuff a Gila monster up my rear end! And you went into the kitchen and probably frightened our nigger cook out of a year's growth in that getup, hm? I'll bet he pinched your bit white ass for you, didn't he?"
"N-no... "
"So you can finally talk. Good. Had your breakfast yet, by the way? " Still averting her eyes, she nodded, her hands clasped in front of her beribboned bush.
He broke a biscuit in two, smeared both parts with the thick wild honey spooned onto one side of the platter, wolfed it down, then took a swig of the strong coffee. "How were the Ortiz boys? " he grinned.
When he heard her suck in her breath and saw her shiver, he pursued, "Sit down next to me."
"All-all right."
He forked into one of the eggs, mopped up the yolk with the other half of the biscuit, and washed it down with another swig of coffee. "You smell nice, Dorothy girl. Took a bath, I'd guess-right?"
"Y-yes... "
"They didn't give you too hard a time, did they? I mean, belt your ass or anything like that?"
Suddenly, she began to cry, plunging her face into her trembling hands. He felt her round soft thigh quiver against his, and the prickling of desire stirred in his cock. "What's that all about?" he demanded.
"It-it-it's the first nice thing you-you've said to me. I mean, anything that shows you have-have any feelings."
He whistled softly to himself, then put the tray down on the floor, took her by the shoulders and made her turn to face him. "What the hell made you think I didn't? I'm no different from your precious Jabez. We've both got a cock and two balls, a heart and guts and a brain. Only difference is, I learned a long time ago to say what I mean and not waste time with fancy talk. I'll take that back about the difference. He's never poked you-I have.
"I-I'm not g-going to marry him, B-Brian.
She began to weep again, softly, but her shoulders shook. He slid his left arm round her waist. "Well, now, that's not exactly fair, Dorothy girl. Here you came out all the way from Philadelphia just to get hitched, and you're calling it quits before you've even had a chance to find out how good a poke he can give you in bed."
She shook her head, still not wanting to look at him. "He-he wouldn't want to marry me now. And-and I-I'm not for him. I'm not the-the respectable, d-decent girl he expected to marry."
"What makes you think you're not?"
"Ohh-d-don't ask me-please-if you only knew-I-I'm all mixed up-first, I wanted-I wanted to kill myself when-when you brought me out here. And now... I-I don't want to die. But-but I couldn't ever live with anyone like Jabez, not with anyone who's fine and good and-"
"Whoa now, Dorothy girl, rein in a mite! If Jabez were here this minute and saw those white tits and legs and that wriggly ass of yours, he'd pop the question to you and then pop his cock right where it belongs, you take my word for it!"
"Oh n-no-no, he wouldn't. He-he was raised to want a wife who-who wouldn't ever do any of the things I-I've done."
"Now you're really down on yourself, aren't you, Dorothy girl? Come on, what did Santiago and Juan do to you when they got you all alone in that bedroom, hm?"
"D-don't make me tell, please, B-Brian-"she whispered faintly.
"Do I have to use my belt on you again?"
"Oh no," she said hastily, instinctively putting a hand behind her. "But-but it-it makes me feel so ashamed to-to even think about such th-things-"
"Would you rather feel ashamed or feel the skin of your ass about to be torn off-I mean it, Dorothy girl!"
"Oh," she sobbed, "d-don't be mean to me-not-not after you seemed to care about what happened to me-please-c-can I w-whisper it, then?"
"Go ahead, just so you tell me what happened!"
She shivered voluptuously as his left arm tightened round her satiny waist. Then, both hands pressed against her cunt, she leaned to him and whispered unsteadily, "They-they both did it to me-at-at the same time... they made me-oh, Brian-do I-do I have to say any more?"
"Of course you do. Now get on with it." His right hand cupped one of her panting titties, his thumbpad playfully prodding the soft nipple.
"Ohh Brian-one of them was on-on top of me-and the other under me-and they both-pushed their-their th-things into me-"
"Their cocks, you mean?"
"Y-yes," she breathed, closing her eyes and pressing hard against him.
"Well, girl, you don't have to tell your fine soldierboy that anything like that happened. If he's the gentleman I think he is, I doubt he'd even ask if you got poked during your visit to us!" he chuckled.
"T-that's not it, though."
"What is, then? It's getting late, and I'm in no mood for putting words in your mouth. I want to see Max and find out what the news is from Laredo."
"T-there isn't any yet. I-I heard him talking to one of the Mexicans. There isn't any sign of the soldiers. Maybe they aren't coming. And-and if they don't-wh-what's going to happen to me then? Would-would I have to be a w-woman everybody uses whenever they want to, Brian?' He cupped her chin with his right hand, stared coldly at her. "Could be, unless you stake a claim to a special fellow. He'd have to want you, though, and back up your play with his six-shooter in case anybody else wanted to argue the claim."
"W-would you want me?"
"Either you're plumb loco from the heat or else going around without your duds on is starting to change your fancy Eastern ideas. Now which is it?"
She was scarlet to her temples and throat as, looking away from him, she murmured, "You-you seemed to-to want me. And then last night, when-when you were playing cards for Aunt Elsie and me, I-I found myself hoping you-you'd win me, not any of the others. And-and when I was so ashamed and-and scared when those Mexicans took me away, I-I-oh please d-don't laugh at me, Brian! I found myself pretending it was you. And-and one of them, I think it was Juan, he-he actually looked a little like you."
Brian stared at her incredulously; he felt her chin tremble in his hand, saw her eyes close, felt the shiver of her warm bare thighs against his. "Well, I'll be gelded for a steer," he breathed. "Are you trying to say, Dorothy girl, you're wishing I'd won the poker game and hauled you off to bed for a good hot shagging? " Crimson poured into her cheeks; her thick lashes fluttered and a convulsive shudder surged through her body as she whispered tremulously, "Y-yes. Th-that's why I know I-I can't ever marry Jabez. Because I'd always have to t-tell myself I wasn't f-faithful to him... even when I wanted to die so nobody could t-touch me, I felt what w-was happening, and I-I felt s-sinful th-things."
"But you still think they're sinful, hm?"
"Y-yes-unless I-I Moved the man wh-who made me feel that way. And I thought-I thought only Jabez could ever make me feel that way."
He chuckled as his right hand dropped from her trembling chin to fasten onto an erratically swelling tittie. "Let's find out if your hot little cunt is still steering you right, Dorothy girl. Give it a chance to speak for itself. Put your arms round me and kiss me back, you prissy Philadelphia cherry!"
His mouth fused to hers, and his tongue probed between her quivering lips. Dorothy moaned and shuddered, and he felt her nipple harden against his palm. With a stifled little sob, she convulsively locked her arms round his neck, arching to him till her heaving titties mashed against his hairy chest.
"Well, I'll be purely Goddamned!" he said hoarsely. "All right, Dorothy girl, put your hand on my cock and ask me to fuck you. Just like that! We'll see soon enough if you're putting on a show just to get my sympathy or if you're really letting that hot tight cunt of yours try its level best to make a real woman out of you!"
Then he gasped with startled delight as he felt her right arm disengage from round his neck, felt her soft trembling fingers brush his side and hip and move over his belly toward his bulging crotch. Shifting himself, he made way for her tentatively, shyly exploring hand, his left hand gathering up the tumbled sheaf of honey-colored hair, his right palm moving insistently and slowly over her flinty nipple.
Her fingers moved hesitantly toward the protuberance in his drawers, halted in a moment of indecision; then, as his tongue foraged deeply between her panting lips, feverishly clutched at the swollen glans which forced out tautly against the fabric of his drawers. "Yes, you prissy little piece, say it," he hoarsely urged.
"D-don't make me-please-j-just-t-take me-please, B-Brian," she quavered, burying her scarlet face against his chest.
"You heard me! You've gone this far, so what's a few simple words to tell a man you're craving, Dorothy girl?"
"Ohh!" she shivered violently, and her fingers let go of his throbbing prickhead. But then, her left arm tightening round his neck, she quickly lifted her face and pressed her cheek against his, and faintly breathed, "I-I want-I want you-to-to-f-f-f-fuck me, B-Brian-please-r-right now-oh, Brian, you-you've made me-me sh-shameless-t-that's why it-it can't ever be-J-Jabez-"
"That's what I've been waiting to have you say, you lovely blonde bitch!" he muttered. Cupping both her titties, he forced her onto her back on the bed, then rose and shucked off his drawers. For a moment, his glittering eyes studied her supine nudity as she lay sprawled with one arm over her forehead, the other over her rapidly surging titties.
Then he swung himself into bed and fell upon her, almost brutally shoving her arm off her titties as his hands cupped the heaving globes and his mouth came greedily down on hers. He felt her flinch and shiver as he kneed apart her thighs and thrust his turgid prick against the dark-gold bush of her cunt. "This time, Dorothy girl," he promised, "you're going to come with me at the end of the ride, or I'll take my belt and make you gallop round the room till your big ass is dripping blood on Max's fancy carpet, hear? " She whimpered as she reached for him, her eyes tightly closed. He felt her jerk as his prick pried between the twitching pink labia of her mount. Without sparing her, he thrust violently to his balls inside her, and her fingernails dug savagely into his neck as she cried out in anguished protest. Heedless of her plaint, Brian drew back and thrust to the balls again, and again. Dorothy Maxton writhed, arching up one knee, which wavered back and forth beside him. Clamping his left hand on her tittie till she moaned in pain, he put his right forefinger to her palpitating, gaping, cunt and began to tickle the outer labia as he immobilized his prick, hiked inside her warm tight canal.
"Ohh-ohh-ahh-oh G-God-ohhhh!" she groaned, and now her other knee arched up, both yawning wantonly to frame his lean wiry body covering hers.
His forefinger moved onward to the nodule of her clitoris, began to tweak it with light, sporadic touches as he slowly drew back his prick, halting it just at the brink of her entry. He felt her bottom grind and twist against the rumpled sheets, felt the feverish dig of her fingernails, saw her face contort, the eyelids fluttering, the nostrils clenching. Then he hilted himself again, and this time he felt the walls of her vagina clutch his imbedded weapon like soft moist fingers that sought to capture and retain the rude intruder.
His mouth again glued to hers, his tongue delving to encounter hers. At that membranous contact, a violent shudder transfixed her, and then her bare legs flung over his sinewy thighs.
"That's it," he panted, "now, you sweet holier-than-thou bitch, let's fuck!"
