Captive

3.8 (75%) 4 votes

Author: Western

Falling Water paused with his hatchet upheld. He looked around the wagon train at the dead and dying. He saw the sides of a wagon move and realized there was somebody inside. He ran to the wagon and threw open the back. Two women, one young and one older, sat hugging each other in fear.

Their horrified eyes went to his bloody hatchet. He dropped the hatchet on the ground and grabbed the older woman. She was about 38 summers old, but not altogether unattractive. He jerked her out of the wagon, leaned her over the tailgate of the wagon, pawed at her dress until the mound of cloth rested on her back. He gaped at the cloth-covered ass and licked his lips. Her legs tried to kick him. He stepped between them and ripped her pantaloons apart with his hands. Her ripe, ample ass cheeks and fragrant pussy were laid bare. He took his cock into his hand, positioned it against her pussy and pushed. She screamed as he forced his way inside. It took several minutes before she began to juice up and stop struggling. All this time he watched the younger girl, just sitting there in stunned awe. Her eyes were on his pistoning cock, and her mother’s gently rounded ass cheeks. He was pushing the ass cheeks out of shape, each time he thrust his manhood into her vagina. He could tell that she was beginning to enjoy it. Her screams had been replaced by moans.

Falling Water pumped vigorously, not remembering a more wonderful fuck. The white women were very soft and pliable. They felt good against a man’s hard pelvis. He ran his hands over her firm ass, as he pumped away in her cunt. The slick sound of his cock sliding in and out was loud, even over the sounds of battle.

He felt his passion rising. Several warriors paused to watch. Fascinated by the naked flesh of the white woman. He grunted as he intensified his attack. Suddenly he came, filling the captive woman with his hot, sticky cum. She moaned in appreciation, even though she had not had her own orgasm. There was time, many warriors were standing by for their turn. There was more than enough for everyone.

Falling Water began to pull out, just as Red Bull rode by on his white war horse and shot an arrow into the white woman’s prone back. Falling Water screamed angrily and fell to grab his hatchet. He tossed it just as Red Bull spun and rode away. It whistled harmlessly over his retreating back. With moans of disappointment, the other warriors turned and left. They didn’t know about the second woman inside the wagon and he no longer cared to tell them. Let them find their own women.

“What a terrible waste of a good woman,” Falling Water mumbled.
“You, out!” he commanded. When the white girl moved too slowly he yanked her out of the wagon and dragged her to his horse. They rode off, leaving the other warriors to search for their own loot.

Runs Like A Deer heard the commotion at the edge of the village, which could only be the warriors returning in triumph. Her brother was one of them, it was his first raid. He was a strong, virile warrior with his sights set on the Chief’s daughter, Lapping Doe. Runs Like A Deer liked her brother. Falling Water was a man in every way possible. Lapping Doe could do worse.

Runs Like A Deer wanted to meet the warriors, and especially her brother, upon their return. But she was not properly dressed. She had been working skins all morning and she was covered with foul smelling rancid fat. Her bath went quickly, she bathed with a wooden bowl filled with flower-scented water, and a soft piece of deer hide. She was just pulling her white deer hide dress over her head when the tent flap opened and something was thrown inside. She pulled the dress on with a gasp and looked around. She found a white woman, not much older than a girl, laying on the furs at the far side of the tepee, cowering in fear.

“What is this?” Runs Like A Deer asked.
“A captive, your slave,” Falling Water said in disdain. “Work her until she dies, for all I care. She is yours.”
Runs Like A Deer knew what a great present her brother had given her, captives were worth a lot in prestige and power.
“Brother, I can’t…”
“No more will be said,” he slapped his chest and turned, spinning out of sight. Both Runs Like A Deer and Falling Water had learned to speak the white man’s language through a captive missionary their father had kept as a slave, until he learned enough to begin preaching, and the tribe put him to death. Runs Like A Deer tried to remember what she had learned, it had been a long time.

“Are you hungry?” Runs Like A Deer said, or hoped she had said. The girl looked at her in surprise. She slid closer with a look of hope.

“Please, can you help me escape?” the girl said hopefully. Runs Like A Deer had trouble understanding some of the words, but the attitude was clear.
“You are a slave, you will stay here until you die,” Runs Like A Deer said, not wishing to give the girl false hope. The girl’s eyes clouded over. Her thoughts turned inward, as if she were not even there.
“Do you wish to eat?” Runs Like A Deer asked again.
“No,” the girl spat. This angered Runs Like A Deer, who had simply been trying to help.
“Fine, if you want to be treated like a slave, then work like one. She tossed the skin bucket toward the girl. “Fill that in the river,” she growled.

A look of hope came into the girl’s eyes.
“If you try to escape, they will track you down and cut your tendons,” Runs Like A Deer said. The girl paused, a look of horror crossing her face.
“They wouldn’t!”
“They have and they will. It’s the favorite way to hobble a slave. After that they can barely walk… forever.”
The girl shivered and rubbed her ankles. “I want to go home,” she moaned.
“Get the water,” Runs Like A Deer said, feeling rather heartless.

It was well past midnight when Runs Like A Deer awoke to the sound of heavy breathing, punctuated by an occasional moan. It was not the sound of lovemaking, those were common in a camp made of skins. This was the sound of a troubled dream. She heard the whimper again and suddenly remembered her captive, the white girl. She reached out in the dark. Her hand came into contact with the girl’s face.

“Wha… what?” the girl asked in fear.
“You were dreaming badly, you were having a… nightmare.”
“Oh yes,” the girl said in the darkness. “Can.. can I sleep with you?”
Runs Like A Deer paused, surprised by the request. She had been living alone since her brother reached the age of puberty and moved into a tepee of his own. Falling Water usually had friends spending the night with him, other boys. Runs Like A Deer did not.

“I… sure,” she finally said uncomfortably. If she coddled the prisoner too much she might gain false hopes, but she could not deny the pleading request. She felt the girl groping in the darkness. Suddenly a warm female body slid next to her’s. The girl seemed surprised to find Runs Like A Deer naked, but that was the way Runs Like A Deer liked to sleep.
The girl fell asleep immediately and there were no more nightmares.

They picked berries the next day so Runs Like A Deer could make her famous berry cakes. The captive missionary had introduced her to the wonderful creations possible with baking soda. Thanks to Falling Water, she had more than enough baking soda, gained through wagon train raids, to last her a lifetime. She used this wondrous ingredient to create her light, fluffy cakes. With a mixture of corn meal, honey, sweet potato flour, berries, and baking soda, she created cakes she could trade for meats, clothing, and utensils. Life had been hard since a Ute raid killed her parents, but Runs Like A Deer’s skill at cooking, combined with her brother’s hunting skills, helped to sustain them.

“What will you do with all these?” Niomi pointed at the baskets of berries.
“I will dry them and use them for cooking.”
“Can I help?”
“Sure, but first you need to get wood for the oven.”
“You have an oven?” Niomi was surprised.
“Yes, outside. It’s the huge mud mound you saw behind the tepee.”
“Oh,” Niomi said. She hurried out. Runs Like A Deer amassed her ingredients and cooking utensils. Most had come from wagon train raids. Some she had made with clay, hardened in the fire. She was lost in thought until she heard a commotion. She ran for the door in time to see Falling Water dragging Niomi behind him.

“She was getting me wood!” Runs Like A Deer shouted, pulling Niomi’s arm out of his grasp.
“She was running over the hill just as fast as her legs could carry her,” he growled. He pulled his knife and sank behind Niomi. Niomi screamed, begging Runs Like A Deer for help. Undecided, Runs Like A Deer finally stopped his hand, just as he was about to slash the back of her ankles.
“You gave her to me,” Runs Like A Deer reminded him gently.

“But she may run again!” he objected.
“If she does, you will catch her. She has nowhere to go,” Runs Like A Deer said, pointing at the barren hills around them. Falling Water shoved his knife back into the sheath and stormed off.
“Oh thank you,” Niomi said, grabbing Runs Like A Deer’s arm.
“You should have cut her,” Lame Crow yelled. Her fat belly jiggled as she made a slashing motion.
“Go away you fat old buffalo,” Runs Like A Deer said in disdain. Lame Crow seldom said anything worth listening too. She was the troublemaker of the camp. Runs Like A Deer pulled Niomi inside and closed the tent flap.

Pages: 1 2 3

Post your comment