“No.” He shrugged. “We have Indians who have crossed over, and they have told us their history and how the Indians’ land has been destroyed. I am happier to have been born here.”
“Where did the mounds… or the gateway… come from?”
Ahiga stirred the ashes with a stick. “They say it was created from the sorrow of the Trail of Tears. The Earth mother swallowed the teardrops, and she gave us the spirit world to ease our loss. She was not pleased with what the white man did to the protectors of her land.”
Kayla nodded. “I can understand that.” She placed a hand on his thigh and felt a jolt of desire wash through her. There was still an edge of dark, dangerous mystery about him that intrigued her. And good god, Kayla, admit it. It turned you on when he fought for you. “Ahiga, if you did not know that the shaman’s sign pointed to the knife, why were you so kind to me?”
“You are as strong as Wacasa. Even through our brutal treatment you had pride. I knew I wanted you as soon as I saw your eyes. I was afraid you were seducing me, and that I was as weak as the warrior in your other world,” he admitted.
Kayla rose to her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders. His hair was so soft, and the silky feel of it contradicted the tight muscles and piercing dark gaze. This Indian was everything Bobby was not. He was proud and strong, with unwavering confidence. “And now?” she whispered. “What if I try to seduce you now?”
Ahiga’s eyes narrowed, and he felt his cock twitch with her soft words. “I suppose I should have to punish you, Wyonet,” he murmured.
“I’ve all ready been punished,” Kayla reminded him.
Ahiga brushed his lips against her ear. “Not by me, Wyonet.” His voice was a deep, husky whisper. “I will have you craving my punishments.” He was pleased with her quivering intake of breath, and pulled back until he found her lips.
Kayla felt herself being pulled onto his chest while he fell back. His tongue searched her mouth with the same fluid grace as his agile movements. She knew her pussy was damp, and even with all the crazy terror, Kayla also knew that she had finally found her soul mate.
Her hand reached to untie the lacings of his breechclout, and he drew back. “You are not too tired?”
Kayla shook her head. “I will sleep… afterwards. I need you, Ahiga. I need your arms around me, making me feel safe again.”
Ahiga helped her pull off her shift, and he kicked off his moccasins and breeches. Kayla drew her hand down his tight chest and wrapped her fingers around his cock. She felt his fingers playing with the threads through her nipples, using the feathers to tickle the taut beads. Yes, those can stay.
Kayla straddled his thighs and slowly sank down on his cock. “Oh… oh, yes,” she hissed at the pleasant fullness. They spent the rest of the afternoon and that night exploring each other’s bodies and sleeping.
* * * * *
Aubrey was just returning to the village with Leotie when she heard the Indian yell. She raised her hand to her brow to block the sun, and she saw Kayla’s black hair waving in the wind as she rode towards the hills behind one of the Indians. “Where is he taking her?”
“She will be fine, Wacasa. She is finding her place with us,” Leotie smiled. It was good to see Ahiga claim the raven.
Wacasa followed Leotie back to the teepees and they deposited their fuel. Leotie handed her a basket and led her to the edge of the woods. She showed her edible plants and nuts, and they spent the afternoon gathering supplies.
Aubrey looked out over the prairie. If she could not get back home, she could certainly think of worse places she could be. The air smelled clean and the sky was clear, reaching forever to the mountains. She hoped Kayla and Cici were happy, and she recognized that she would have no say in the matter. She sighed as she followed Leotie back to the village.
Leotie left Wacasa in Nashoba’s teepee and told her to get some rest. Aubrey woke up to Nashoba’s fingers brushing through her hair. She looked into his narrowed eyes, and her pussy constricted and creamed liquid pools of excitement. The look he gave her was dangerous… savagely seductive… and her breath caught.
“Take off your clothes.” His voice was a low threat.
Wacasa closed her eyes and reached for the hem of her dress. A hand gripped her chin. “Open your eyes, Wacasa.” He would offer her no escape into a fantasy of another man’s face.
Wacasa opened her eyes and looked at him while his eyes followed the leather up her body. She sat up, pulled it over her head and tossed it to the side of the furs. Her moccasin boots followed. Wacasa lay down and stretched, pointing her toes and arching her breasts towards him. She laid a hand on his thigh and stroked, anticipating his body stretched out beside her, naked.
Nashoba traced a finger up the slope of her breast. He felt her tremble when it brushed over her taut nipple, and she gasped. Her hand squeezed his thigh, impatiently pulling him closer. She watched him stand and remove his leggings. When his breechclout dropped to the ground, her eyes focused on his jutting erection and she licked her lips. Her pussy was constricting, squeezing her cream onto her slit and willing his cock to thrust inside her. Wacasa was enthralled by the sight of him.
Nashoba knelt between her thighs. He wanted to taste her. He curled his arms under her thighs and raised her pussy to his mouth. Wacasa clenched her fists into the furs, shaking her head and pleading silently. The first swipe of his tongue sent sparks down her slit and she arched up him. “Oh god,” she moaned. She did not want his mouth. She needed his magnificent cock pushing into her, allowing her muscles to clamp tightly and milk him.
Nashoba lapped her slick juice, toying with her clit until she was begging for release. He finally lowered her hips and she sat up, searching wildly for his shaft and intent on spearing herself. Nashoba grabbed her wrists and pushed her down, holding her arms locked over her head. She shifted her hips in frustration.
The tip of his rod lay against her pussy, and he lowered his head to suck a tight sensitive nipple into his mouth. “Oh god, Nashoba. Oh god, please,” she begged. Wacasa was frantic with the need to have him plunging inside her. He continued to toy with her nipple, enjoying the aroused passion of his woman begging to have him fill her.
At last, his balls were throbbing with his own need, and he lifted his hips and pushed deep. Her soft thighs wrapped around his hips and her heels dug into his legs, pinning him on top of her. Wacasa’s fingers gripped the tight skin of his ass, clenching in time to his flexing muscles as he thrust into her. Her eyes were closed again, and Nashoba watched her face. Her lips were partially open and shivering with desire, while she panted and moaned in passion.
He felt her muscles clench his shaft, and he knew that both of them were at the edge of cascading into an explosive orgasm. He whispered, “Wacasa,” and swallowed her scream of pleasure in his kiss.
Wacasa curled next him with her head resting on his arm, smiling in contentment and stroking his chest until her shudders calmed. His arm was wrapped around her, and she realized she felt perfectly safe with him. The door in her mind to other world was closing, and she knew that she was thinking of her old life less and less. The long hours of classes and work to pay bills seemed trivial compared to life here. Every day she was greeted with the sounds, smells, and scenery of nature instead of the urban concrete jungle of congested traffic and sidewalks. She closed her eyes to the sound of an owl in the distance, inhaling the comforting scent of the Indian, and pulled against the warmth of his body.
Chapter VIII
Cici was miserable. Her eyes were red from crying, and there were three welts purpling her white buttocks. Now, her breasts were aching from a fullness she detested. There was no position to lie or crawl into where her bottom or chest did not hurt.
Ganali sat on the other side of their island of grass, looking sadly at her friend. Her attempts to comfort Waka had been met with angry screams. Awi was approaching them, and she ordered Ganali to follow for her milking. Ganali shook her head at the Indian. “Aka. Aka.”
“Waka knows what she needs to do to stop hurting, Ganali. If she wants to be stubborn, she is the one who will suffer for it. Come, now,” Awi ordered. Ganali looked back once at Waka, then she hung her head and followed Awi to the tarp.
It had taken almost a week for the calming sensation of the sleeping juice to leave her system. Each time she woke up, Cici realized more and more what was happening to her. They had done something to her to fill her breasts with milk, and secured her to a contraption that collected it. It was handed to the mothers with young children. Cici, always so careful with her appearance and always the lady, was systematically being turned into a human cow.
They kept her movements restrained, and her diet was so rich that she was putting on weight. She could already feel the strain on her legs when they were unbelted so that she could bathe in the stream. Then, there was the device in her mouth, causing her to drool and slobber her food. Cici did not understand it, until last night.
Last night, she had been brought back to the tarp. She was determined not to let the male Indian touch her. Awi had to rap her hard to get her secured to the bench. That was where she earned two of the welts. The third was when Soquila had approached her mouth with his cock. Waka had bucked up, lifting the bench with her chest and shrieking at the man. Awi lashed her again, detached her from the milking bench, and sent her outside with the warning that she would not be milked until she was ready to behave.
Behave? They’re turning me into a cow to be fucked by a savage, and they want me to behave? Cici had spent most of the night crawling around the pen and shrieking outrage until she was hoarse. She could not believe Ganali had settled for the abuse, and Waka decided she was on the Indians’ side.
After breakfast, Ganali was returned to the pen with the same happy expression she always seemed to have on her face after returning from the tarped shade. Waka turned her back to her. Lying down was now too painful, so she remained on all fours with her massive breasts leaking onto the grass. She had tried using her mitted hands to leach some of the fullness. It was an unsuccessful, painful attempt. She glanced over at Ganali and saw her kneeling in the shade and crying.
“She knows you think she is weak for accepting our path for her. She thinks you despise her.”
Waka looked up. She had been in so much misery that she had not heard Awi approach her. Waka shook her head in angry frustration.
Awi knelt and held a skin in front of her. “Tip your head back. We have decided to keep you on sleeping juice a while longer. It means your milk will be useless.” There was a note of sadness in her voice.
Waka stared at Ganali, trying to get her attention and let her know that she was not upset with her. It’s the damn Indians I’m mad at. She looked at the skin Awi was holding, and shook her head. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you keep me drugged.
An old Indian stood under the tarp and began clacking their confusing speech. Awi rose and left to speak with the shaman. Cici’s hanging breasts swung and ached while she crawled towards Ganali. She ran a mitten down her cheek and tried to smile. Ganali returned the gentle caress and stopped crying. The two women crawled to their grass island and looked towards the tarp where Soquila had joined the old man and the two Indian women.
Awi looked across the pen at the two cows. It seemed they had resolved their differences. “Why were these things not told to us?” she asked.
“It made no sense, until you discussed Waka’s situation with me. What I saw was the cow horn split in half. There was one chip from the hoof token lying on one side of the horn and the oxtail bone resting on the other. It was not the entire Horse token, merely a piece of it. I thought the sign was fulfilled when the chief made Soquila the cow’s trainer. With Tokala’s death, I presumed the split with the oxtail meant both Ganali and Waka were to be cows for the tribe.”
“At the time, I did not understand it to mean the two women would take their journey together. There is another sign in Ganali’s future, left to be decided.” The shaman had been holding deep discussions with the chief and spirit women, trying to decipher the message from the intricate casting.
“So, Waka and Ganali are to be encouraged with their relationship,” Awi confirmed. “And what of the sign of the Horse?”
“We feel it means more than the position of trainer, but if Waka refuses a man, we have not been able to decipher the true meaning of the sign,” the shaman admitted. He was certain that the sign clearly indicated Soquila would be more to the cow, and he had struggled for another answer.
Soquila was not listening closely to their conversation. He was watching Waka. She was in obvious pain, and bloated. He glanced down and saw the filled skin with the sleeping juice in Awi’s hand.
“She refused it,” Awi said when she noticed his glance. She returned to the discussion with the shaman, but they silenced when Soquila drifted towards Waka. “He is her trainer, and he thinks he is failing her.”
“Let’s watch for a moment,” the shaman suggested.
Waka had her head resting on Ganali’s shoulder, trying to block out the pain. She heard the Indian approach and whimpered. Ganali stroked a mitted hand down her back.
“Waka, come with me. I want to talk to you, and you will not be able to listen while you are filled,” Soquila said.
She shook her head, and tears dripped down her cheeks. She was in misery.
“I will not hurt you, Waka. Ganali can come with us to keep you company. You need relief… and I need to talk to you.”
Waka sensed almost a pleading in the man’s voice. It confused her. They could force her to do what they want, or drug her. It was difficult to trust him. It was difficult to think of anything, with her breasts feeling as though they were going to burst.
Ganali brushed her mitt through Waka’s curls. “Aka.”
Waka looked at Ganali. There were lines of pain on her face, and Ganali encouraged her to go to Soquila. Waka slowly shuffled towards the tarp. Every jarring, crawling step was misery, and she was sobbing by the time she reached the shade. Tala stood by the bench. She said softly, “You waited too long, Waka. Come here.”
Waka crawled to her and quivered when she looked at the small holes of the bench. Tala surprised her by reaching her hand under her chest and tugging on her breast. Milk flowed into the bowl, and just as the relief on one side washed through her, Tala’s other hand began working her other side.
When her breasts had emptied a little, Tala maneuvered them carefully through the holes in the bench. Waka waited for Awi’s fingers on her slit, and she was surprised when Tala said, “Work slowly until you empty a bit.” She stood and said to Soquila, “Awi and I will be outside if you need us.”
Soquila sat on the ground in front of her and Ganali knelt beside him. He raised his arms and ran his fingers through their hair, remaining silent. When the strain left Waka’s face, he said, “The shaman has cast a confusing sign, Waka.”
Her eyes had been closed while she relieved her pressure. She opened them and looked at him.
“He has told us you share a path with Ganali. Do you feel this?”
Waka looked at Ganali, and she was encouraged by the smile that lit her blue eyes. She looked back at Soquila and nodded.
“The cast says that you and Ganali are to remain together, though Ganali’s position of caring for the single warriors does not change.”
Ganali made a grimaced smile of relief. She liked her building relationship with Waka, and after three years of getting all the sexual pleasure from the men that she could possibly desire, she was pleased she would not have to give it up.
Waka was also happy to know that she would not have to curb her feelings for Ganali. She was certain that there was a ‘but’ to his speech. She could not follow Ganali’s example and have the intimidating warriors use her whenever they wanted to.
Soquila was quiet for a moment. His black eyes continued to focus on her, and Waka sensed building despair in them. For some reason, this bothered her. She
remembered how carefully he had guided her to the village. Even with her horrible situation, he had not pressed her service faster than she could handle. He always let Awi prime her, and it was quite a sexual boost to have a man’s cock bring her to climax.
She realized, in a strange sense, she controlled this man. He was so intent on her training, which was thwarted if she was too upset and could not produce, that he had given in to her need to have the woman. It hurt her to see the sign of failure and humiliation in his proud features. She reached out a hand and rested a mitt on his thigh.
Soquila looked down and watched her try to pat his leg with her curled fist. He realized she was not afraid of him. She did not despise him for her situation. He held her chin, reached his fingers into her mouth and removed the ring. “I need to talk to you,” he explained. “You wish to be with Ganali?”
Her throat was dry, and she croaked, “I like her.”
“Then we will let you stay penned together with more freedom, if you agree to your position with the tribe.”
“You mean if I can be used as a cow and a masturbation toy for the men,” Waka said angrily.
“As far as the milk,” Soquila shrugged. “It costs you little, as you have only a few other tasks you are required to do. Our children need the nourishment and we cannot take the cattle to our winter home. You are revered in the tribe. Surely you remember the cheers when you first walked to the stream.”
Even through the drugged haze, Cici did remember how pleased the tribe seemed to be when she arrived. What she considered an embarrassment apparently gave her great value among the tribe.
“Ganali and you will spend your time together. We will slowly give you more freedoms as you acclimate into the tribe. You will still be required to produce milk, but so long as you do so willingly, we can take off your restraints,” Soquila tempted.
Captive Travelers Page 15
