("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Wolf - 4: Wolf With The Ten Little Indians by Jack Rabbit (address withheld) *** Visiting Raven Indian Maiden Bluebird tells Sara in detail how years earlier she and nine other young captives of the Ohapi tribe were given to Wolf as sex slaves as a reward for saving the life of the Ohapi chief’s son. (M/f, reluct, slave, voy, mast, 1st, ped, oral, fan) *** WOLF MEETS GRANDMA - PART 1 WOLF WITH HANSEL AND GRETEL - PART 2 WOLF AND JACK - PART 3 WOLF WITH THE TEN LITTLE INDIANS - PART 4 WOLF WITH THE THREE LITTLE PIGS - PART 5 WOLF MEETS LITTLE RED - PART 6 Author Note: This story is a work of fantasy fiction, adapted from traditional fairy tales written as creative entertainment, and should not be viewed as more than a work of fiction. The Wolf stories tell of his intimate adventures from a Grandma's point of view. ARCHIVIST'S NOTE: The author did not supply a contact address so we are unable to direct you to any other parts unless they are supplied by the author. *** When Wolf first arrived out of nowhere, offering to do handyman work in exchange for a place to stay for a few days, I got to know him as a hard working gentleman. He told me then that he was a traveler, who had stayed awhile with the Indians once upon a time, but little more. As I got comfortable with him staying in what used to be my kids room, I grew to like him a lot, but puzzled at his secretive ways. For a traveling mountain man he had a friendly demeanor, and some talents you wouldn't expect. He was an artist of sorts, keeping a few artist's tools in his pack horse's saddlebags. He used those sketch pads to draw up plans for making things I needed, like cooling shelves. He surprised me with a few sketches of me. I was curious to see more of his artwork, thinking it would offer more detail about his interests, his past. One morning, while he was in the barn working with the animals and I was all caught up with making my pies, having a dozen baking in the oven, I decided to do the laundry. I grabbed the blankets and nightclothes from my bed, putting them in the tub of water for washing. In Wolf's room I gathered his blankets and dirty clothes, and again found one of those moistened rags under the bed. It finally dawned on me. He had been silently masturbating, using the rags to capture his ejaculations. That's why I heard the bed squeaking from behind closed doors. Also beside the bed was one of his mystery sketchbooks. A title hand printed on it read, "Ten Little Indians" My curiosity peaked. After putting his clothes in the tub to let them soak, I took the book to the table to have a look-see. The sketchbook was filled with attractive drawings of young Indian girls, talented pen and ink line drawings, filled in with water colors. The first drawing was of a group of ten similarly thin, young girls wearing buckskin dresses, all standing in bunches. They appeared similar, with tan, high cheeked faces and straight, long black hair. Yet, each had a distinctive face. The next ten pictures were facial portraits of each girl, apparently aged from about eighteen down to about eight. At first I though they were of the same girl showing ten years of growing up, but then I saw the differences in lips, noses, eyes. Each of the ten facial portraits had a name printed at the bottom; Morning Flower, Grey Coyote, and Running Deer were the names for the oldest looking, with Buttercup, White Lily, Forest Rabbit, Mountain Snow, and Shining Stone the names that followed. The youngest girls were Bluebird and Water Stone. Following the portraits were several artworks of the girls, in clusters of two or three, but instead of buckskin dresses, they wore only narrow, draping loin cloths held low on their hips, tied with leather straps. The only other attire they wore were beaded necklaces and head bands. They looked back at the artist with twinkling eyes plus grins or expressions of indifference. All of the young bodies were bare except for those low riding loincloths. Each girl taunted with a pair of erect brown nipples sticking up from tan chests. The three smallest of the models were too young for breasts. The next five, a little older, had budding cones of early puberty. The two oldest offered women's shapely hips and large full breasts. Sticking up from their different sized breasts were raised round areoles hills topped with puffy cherry pit like brown tips. I flipped back looking for publishing detail. None. The rest of artworks stunned my sensitivities. It was filled with renditions of each of those same ten little Indians in the nude. Like artists nudes of posed women, there was no indication of anything overtly sexual, except the full frontal nudity of ten young girls. They had different poses. Some stood holding their hair or carried food trays. Some squatted, or kneeled, or lay on the ground on their backs. One looked back from a being positioned on all fours. All displayed hairless little pussies. A drawing of the youngest showed her leaning back from a sitting position on the ground, knees elevated, arms supporting her from behind, a laughing smile on her lips, a twinkle in the eyes, and a beckoning pinkish vagina prominently displayed. At the back there were a dozen scenic views showing the girls inside teepees, next to pine trees, splashing in lakes, flowering bushes, then about ten blank sheets. I was stunned. These images of naked little Indians obviously aroused Wolf. He had been masturbating to the artworks. Were those his artworks? Had he known those little girls as nude models? I wondered where the book came from. I was a little bothered, but I knew how this was with men. I remembered my childhood sneaking a peek of my brother getting excited after seeing a cousin naked. Even Charlie surprised me with a hidden stash of girlie magazines. I closed the book and put it away. How should I react? How did I feel about what I now understood about Wolf? For the rest of the morning I thought about him and the "Ten Little Indians". At the time I was a little confused, but I kept quiet. Like when we had inadvertently watch the young shepherd girls Mary and Bo Peep swimming nude in the lake, he made no secret that he was easily aroused by little girls. Then Hansel and Gretel stayed with us, sharing their children's sexual adventurism with the two of us. Not only did I watch Wolf's pedophilia as he had sex with eleven year old Gretel, I experienced those pleasures myself with Hansel. Sex with fourteen year old Hansel had been so much more satisfying than anything I could remember. Wolf and I missed those kids when they moved on. A few days after Hansel and Gretel left we got a surprise visitor. Young Jack McCain was bringing a load of supplies from town, and with him on the buckboard was a bronze skinned Indian woman. Wearing a buckskin dress, she was lithe shaped, with long black hair in two braids, her age appeared to be late thirties. "Miss Sara," Jack announced, "This woman got off the westbound stage to lay over a day. At Kelly's Eatery she overheard talk about a traveler named Wolf staying with you. She thought she might know him from long ago, so I offered to bring her out to see for herself." "Lady Sara," the woman got down from the wagon to greet me with a pleasing smile. "My name is Bluebird. I would like to talk to Wolf if he is the friend I knew long ago." The name was familiar. She was one of the little girls in his sketch book "Ten Little Indians". That image was of a child of ten, and this woman was in her mid thirties. Wolf must have known the Indian girls a quarter century earlier. I quickly overcame the surprise and greeted her. I told her Wolf was out in the forest, that he would be back in a few hours for dinner. I invited her to stay for dinner if she wished, that I would see that she had a ride back to town. She offered to help me prepare my pies, so we unloaded her bags from Jack's wagon and sent him on his way. As we settled in the kitchen to prepare more pies she volunteered a little information about herself. We talked about how she knew Wolf. She was married to a blacksmith who died recently. At the moment she was traveling on her own to visit the tribe she came from. When her stage stopped in town, she overheard a couple of people talking about a handyman named Wolf, and their descriptions sounded a lot like a traveling trader man she who had been a friend and protector when she was a child. If he were the same man, she hoped to see him again. Curious about the girls in Wolf's sketch book, I volunteered that I had seen Wolf's sketch book titled "Ten Little Indians". Was she the 'Bluebird' in those artworks? She thought a little to recall, then grinned sheepishly and momentarily blushed. "I remember him being an artist," She then asked, "Did Wolf tell you about that sketchbook?" She blushed. Bluebird then asked to see the book. "I never asked him, but I've been most curious" I poured us each a glass of cider, went to Wolf's room and retrieved the sketch book. She studied at the artworks one at a time. She smiled and said, "You don't want to know the details behind this. It's a bit erotic." "I've have my own erotic stories about Wolf," I sipped my drink, "What you have to say couldn't be naughtier than what I've done with him." Bluebird looked up from a sketch of her naked as a child. She pointed to the drawing, "That was me nearly thirty years ago. I was a sex slave for Wolf then, and I enjoyed it." I adjusted my chair a little, "Tell me everything. I would love to know the details." "When I was a child, my tribe of Raven Indians was at war with the Ohapi tribe. One morning, when most of our braves were away hunting buffalo, the Ohapi attacked our camp, killing the braves still there. Raven children were taken as slaves for the Ohapi to use tending crops. A month after we became servants to the Ohapi," She put the sketchbook aside, and returned to working the pie filling mix with experienced hands. "Wolf rode into the village, trading blankets and pots and pans and hunting knives for furs that he could sell to white buyers. He was very friendly to all the women and children, giving out mirrors and jewelry and candy. To the surprise of the Ohapi he even gave little gifts to us Raven slaves, something they thought was not necessary." "When he left we thought we would see him no more, but he was beside a mountain stream fishing at the same time a band of Ohapi braves rode by as part of a hunting party. Suddenly a cougar dropped from a tree on one of the braves, knocking him off his horse. Being close, Wolf pulled a knife and charged the cat, wrestling it away from the brave. That brave was the chief's son, and Wolf saved his life. "The chief's son was bruised, slashed, and bleeding, but the injuries weren't too serious. However, the cat had clawed Wolf's leg deeply. Standing up from killing the cougar, he prepared to face the galloping horse- mounted hunting party rushing to them. The chief signaled his warriors that Wolf was a friend to whom he owed much. As matters calmed, Wolf reacted to his injuries and blood loss. He collapsed. Both Wolf and the chief's son were brought back to their camp on horse drawn litters" The story got more to the point after that. Because he had saved the chief's son, Wolf was owed a great debt. They would take care of him until he got back to health, and they would reward him. He would stay in a teepee with several of the Raven slaves who were tasked to nurse his wounds. Wolf tried to object, but soon realized he was in bad shape. He had lost a lot of blood, and the gouges got infected. He got sick and went to sleep for several days. Myself, ten year old Bluebird, along with Morning Flower, Grey Coyote, and Running Deer were the Raven girls who stayed in Wolf's teepee to care for him. We had been forced to gather foods in the meadows or do laundry or whatever the tribal women wanted. They frequently whipped us if they were unhappy with something we did. Twice young slaves tried to run away, but when they were caught they were tied up and hung upside down from a tree for two days to teach them. Ohapi women beat them with sticks as they hung there. Being given to Wolf as his servants was much better for us. For several days we treated his cuts with mosses and medicines, feeding him soup when he woke enough to eat. He slowly improved. Being cared for by so many barely clothed young girls started to stimulate his sexual appetite. His manhood stiffened like a post as the girls cleaned the wounds. When the chief heard of his arousal, he ordered Morning Flower to satisfy the passions. I watched with amazement when Morning Flower pulled back the blanket that was concealing Wolf's big thing. With the other maidens watching, she grasped it with her hand and started going up and down. This was a fascinating scene for my child's eyes. Seeing his look of happiness was something I never forgot. I was surprised when his manhood started squirting like a fountain. Once he calmed down, Morning Flower cleaned the mess with a damp cloth, covered him again with blankets, and soon had him asleep once more. I was excited by what I saw, and felt a tingling between my legs. I kept watching him as he slept. When he woke again I squatted on my haunches to tried to feed him. With Running Dear and Buttercup watching, he sat up, reached out to my face and ran his fingers through my hair, blowing me a kiss. I smiled and tried to feed him more soup, but he dropped his hand to massage one my legs. I said nothing, but I understood if Wolf's touching me pleased him, it was what the chief wanted me to do. I opened my legs a little. With his hands Wolf shifted the material of my loin cloth to one side, and pushed his fingers into the lips of my slit. Running Deer and Buttercup were open mouth and wide eyed watching, but I felt a pleasure I had not known before. He rubbed his fingers up and down within my girlhood. Not knowing what to say, I put the food aside, reached under his blanket, and began rubbing his manhood the way Morning Flower had done earlier. I felt a warm wetness draining from inside me as my pleasure senses intensified. We both soon erupted to make a mess, a mess we left there as we lay down together, holding each other's sex organ. I sort of expected for Wolf to try to put his thing in me, but he was too badly injured to try at that moment. He went to sleep again Later he needed to empty his bladder, but he couldn't even walk without help. Running Deer and Buttercup helped him up, each with one of his arms around each of their shoulders. They stepped out of the teepee toward a bush outside of the camp. Careful not to bump his claw scars, Buttercup reached out and held his unit as he emptied a stream of yellow pee that had been building up. Once it was empty, it was still erect in the grip of her hand. He reached his hands down the two girl's bare chest to fondle their nipples. His playful fingers got them giggling as they stumbled back into the tent. Laying him back down, Running Deer had Buttercup release her grip on his post. Running Deer carefully climbed on top of Wolf in a way to avoid hurting his wounds. She guided herself onto his throbbing manhood. She closed her legs together as he spread his, then she started pumping up and down and around and around. With his hands on her back, she did this repeatedly until he came within her. I remained quiet, watching the interaction from across the teepee, reliving in my mind the ecstasy of his finger probing my pussy. They fell asleep in that position. I felt envious that he had not gotten inside me all the way like that. I fell asleep myself. With each passing day he grew stronger, and with it, his appetite for love making escalated. Gray Coyote and Forest Rabbit took him to the stream to bath him, sitting him on an old log while they washed him. When they tried to stand in front of him to wash his hair, he reached out hands to take Forest Rabbit by the rump, and pulled her to him so that her small conical breasts pressed into his mouth. She giggled when he began suckling her nipple, and playfully slapped his head, telling him to calm down. He smiled up at her, then pulled her hips down towards his, sliding his rigid shaft under her vagina. Gray Coyote poured a bowl of cold water on his head, but it had no effect. He reached down, lifted one of Forest Rabbit's legs enough to enable him to guide himself into her anxiously awaiting love tunnel. He sat on that log peacefully holding her rump as she raised and lowered her hips on top of him. With Forest Rabbit hugging and kissing his head, Wolf went back to sucking on her titties. With his manhood deep inside her love canal, Forest Rabbit squeezed and massaged it with her uterus muscles until his eruption began filling her with cum. Grey Coyote watched, waiting for her turn. When they finished, Wolf lay back on the grass beside the stream to recover his composure. With a twinkle in his eye, he invited Coyote to do the same thing. His post had wilted as expected, but when Coyote started washing away the sticky fluids, it rose to her touch. I watched from upstream as he pulled her on to him, being careful to not disturb the claw scars. After that bath is when he started drawing in a sketchbook. He was quite good, as you can see. I, and the other slave maidens, followed him around and saw to his desires to keep faith with the chief's command. Other than being used the way young girls should not be used, we had fun. Wolf was tender and sharing and a friend to each and all of us. When tribal women tried to whip us, Wolf protected us. Those women grumbled, but went along with Wolf's wishes. The chief granted ten slave maidens to Wolf in reward. If Wolf did not mistreat his slaves, that was his business, even if the tribal elders found it confusing. The girls took turns escorting Wolf through the village to meet with the chief, or to give him a bath, or to dress his wounds. Knowing it made him happy to have fun with their bodies, they played sexual games with him whenever they had him alone, and his amorous appetite was insatiable. Often it was up to me and Water Stone, a girl a year younger than myself, to feed him. We learned to approach him wearing only skimpy loin clothes held up with a leather strap. They were easy to get off when he wanted to fondle our hairless, puffy vaginas, which he did often, and those garments did not cover our chests, leaving our bare nipples sticking out for him to suckle on. I was jealous of the older girls having intercourse with him, so I tried getting up on him to lower myself over his post. I was too tight, so the head of his penis kept slipping out of the slit. That created a problem, because my footing would slip and bring pain to those wounds. However, after a few days his scars healed enough for him to roll over on his stomach. I lay down so he could position himself over me. With my legs apart, he slid his manhood up and back sandwiched within the lips of my vagina. That felt so good. Then he reached between us to guide that big head into the canal. Barely inside, I could sense him pressing against my maiden head. That hurt. He started pushing harder, creating a pain that made me whimper. He retracted a little like he was going to get off me. I didn't want him to stop, but then he pushed hard and deep. The pain intensified as he burst through the membrane. Then the hurt ebbed and it started to feel good. I mean he pushed in as far as he could go. He rested a moment with his shaft deep inside me, and then he started slowly pumping up and back. It felt real good. I felt the ecstasy of my first climax coming in wave after wave as his throbbing manhood quivered and filled me with his sticky fluid. Water Stone sat next to us watching in amazement during the entire episode, reaching her hand between her legs to manipulate her own pussy nub to the rhythm of my experience. A half hour later, as he lay back from his effort with me, she started rubbing him, reviving his erection. She was successful. He was too tired to mount her the way he had me, so he encouraged her to try to kiss it. Having had observed the older girls doing this, she tried, but her mouth was too small to engulf the head of his penis, so she began licking the head. Her little fingers grasped the shaft as best she could, rubbing it up and down. Wolf had her give up what they were doing to change positions. Both adjusted their positions to lay on their sides with her hips in front of his face, her head parallel with his stomach. As she hugged his waist, he used his hand to lift one her legs enough for him to nuzzle his lips against her crotch. He stuck out his tongue, pushing it within the slit. He began tasting her juices. Moaning and giggling, she held herself snuggly to his mid section as he continued to lick her vagina, shifting to poking his tongue against the maidenhead membrane waiting for his attention. As the action continued, she leaned back a little, reached for his manhood, and started rubbing it, quivering her own hips at the same time. His continued oral stimulation brought her to a series of multiple climaxes. He wasn't finished yet. He sat up, rolled her over on her back, then positioned himself over her like he had done with me. With a silly smiled on her lips, her hands balancing herself, and her legs spread, he lowered himself. Mindful of his pain-sensitive scars, he slowly impaled her, penetrating her membrane far more quickly than he had mine. Grimacing at the stretching caused by mating her small child's love tunnel with his thick shaft, she yelped a little, but the oral stimulation had lubricated and loosened her pussy muscles enough. She relaxed, closed her eyes, then lay back with an open mouth smile. Once they were fully joined, he slowly rotated his hips, and one again began doing pushups with his hips. A few minutes later his hose blew, filling her tight opening with juices that oozed back out around their union. Once again he was exhausted. He rolled over to lay down. Not bothering to clean our messes, Water Stone and I snuggled up next to each of his arms, where we all passed out for a needed nap. A month after that recovery, Wolf was well enough to move on. He considered staying with the tribe to enjoy the benefits of his harem, but we all knew that wasn't workable. He would never be an Indian, and with a family of ten Raven slave girls as wives, he wouldn't fit comfortably with the Ohapi's for long. He traded most of what he had left in exchange for a teepee and a couple of additional horses. Wolf led us away from Ohapi lands. All ten of us were glad to be free from the harsh Ohapi treatment, and we had learned to enjoy having sex with Wolf as a large sisterhood. When we were moving camp or finding food, he kept us busy with an unending appetite for sex. He couldn't take us to his white world, because they did not like Indians, and would especially despise his arranged harem. He chose to lead us back to Raven lands. Although we were considered damaged maidens because we had been his sex servants, we were welcomed back by what remained of our families. He was welcome to stay because he had rescued us and returned us home. Wolf stayed another month in the Raven camp, hunting and fishing and having sex every day with the ten of us. But, he was a traveler, and he wanted to move on. Bluebird's story was captivating, but left me with many questions. "Did he just desert you? Did he ever come back? What became of all the girls?" She explained "Wolf couldn't take us with him. Raven maidens would not be accepted by other Indian tribes. He went back east for a time to restock what he needed for trading with the Indians. He came back in the winter with gifts for all of us. Things had changed. Three of the girls were pregnant from Wolf. The Raven tribal council commanded that those babies be raised as Raven culture, not as a part of the white man's world. Many of girls had mated with other braves and could no longer serve Wolf. We were all happy to see him again, but we were no longer Ohapi slaves serving him, and our Raven tribe had absolved us of our marriage to Wolf. Four of the girls continued to share his teepee while he was there, and he thought about changing from a traveling trader to a homesteader, but that didn't happen. He moved on and all of the girls eventually found other husbands and settled down without him. I had married a blacksmith who recently died. But while I was married I bore him three sons. They're grown and off to California to look for gold." She concluded her story with, "I've been on my own for awhile, and am traveling back to visit the Raven tribe. I had a good life, and a good family, but I never forgot my childhood sexual friend, Wolf. I miss the sisterhood I had with the other girls trying to keep up with his sexual drives. I miss him, and often get urges dreaming of the way it used to be." "Miss Sara," Bluebird asked, "You said you had your own naughty stories about Wolf. Is he still as amorous as he was back then?" We had finished making the pies while she told her story. I was about to answer her question, when Wolf walked in. Her spur of the moment afternoon visit to my house to see and old friend lasted two memorable weeks. Bluebird stayed in a second bed in the spare room with Wolf, and every night for two weeks those squeaky springs would keep me awake late. To be continued... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 52