by Jools Louise
She heard hearty laughter as her tormentors departed, and scowled into the darkness, wincing at the pain stabbing up her arm. Not since childhood had she fallen from a horse, and she was not pleased to have been thrown off this time, like a sack of potatoes. Despite her attraction to the pair of dimwits who had captured her, she was smarting at being bested on horseback. Usually, she could literally run rings around any competition. It had kept her alive for the past five years as a Pony Express rider.
Settling down, Mary glanced around, observing the flickering firelight dancing off the walls, and was puzzled that her captors had not killed her already. From all the stories she’d been told, the Comanche did not usually take prisoners in this neck of the woods. Taking a shortcut through their lands had been a gamble, but she’d been sure the local tribe was far away, chasing buffalo or whatever else they did to stay alive. She had not anticipated coming across the two gorgeous warriors, clad in buckskin pants and not much else. Their skin was a deep coppery hue, with sinewy muscles rippling as they moved, making her breathless as she’d watched. A far cry from her late husband’s pallid tones and tubby figure.
She felt a twinge of remorse for thinking such things. Her husband had been a lot older than her, in his forties to her twenty-five, and had succumbed to influenza whilst at sea. She had not loved him, but had been loyal. She had been flattered by his attentions, a rich older man interested in little old her. As a seamstress, she had been fairly independent, and had her own small business fixing clothing for the merchant classes. In London, that was no small feat. Accepting Alfred’s proposal after a six-month courtship, she had spent two years married to him before the lure of foreign shores had tempted him to put their life in England’s capital behind him. She had felt an overwhelming urge inside her, as though this was the opportunity she had been waiting for, and had gone along. She had ended up alone, penniless, in a distant land thousands of miles from home.
A sound at the cave’s entrance had her looking up, and she shelved thoughts of Alfred to scowl at the familiar intruder. He sauntered confidently closer, a naughty glint in his eyes that did nothing to ease her temper. He seemed to know that most of her ill will was bluster. His glance at her now-covered chest confirmed that fact. He knew that she had responded to him and his companion.
He carried a bowl filled with something that steamed gently. Kneeling, he eyed her cautiously, obviously expecting an attack. Crossing her arms, Mary gave a sharp cry, forgetting her sore arm. She clasped it gingerly and winced. Immediately, he looked concerned, which was odd really. He should not be tending to her. She’d just thrown a rock at him, for goodness’ sake.
Gingerly, he dipped a piece of rag into the bowl and gently dabbed at her face, his startling amber eyes warm as he gazed on her. Nobody, not even her husband, had looked at her this way. And yet this so-called savage was treating her better than her own family ever had. Startled, she allowed him to continue, watching him carefully, barely daring to breathe. His moist breath wafted over her face pleasantly, smelling of wild mint. Her gaze lowered and she viewed the expanse of his naked chest discreetly. Lower still, she spied the ripples of his abdomen devoid of fat before dipping still lower to the leather flap that hid his manhood. Startled, she realized what she was looking at and closed her eyes, blushing furiously.
He laughed, white teeth gleaming in the firelight. She scowled, pouting at being caught. She stared into his amused amber gaze and refused to look away. He cupped her cheek gently and leaned closer, stroking a thumb along the curve of her jaw. She shivered, helpless to look away from the desire forming in his eyes. She inhaled delicately, smelling his warm skin, wanting to reach out and touch the smooth silk of his long hair hanging loose to his shoulders. He was beautiful.
“The horses are secure,” a voice said, breaking the moment abruptly. The man spoke in perfect English, surprising her. This concession to her inability to speak Comanche pleased her.
Mary looked over as the other Comanche entered the cave, ducking down through the low-slung entrance. Distracted, she was barely aware of warm fingers stroking her skin, so gentle and soothing, and cleansing her tenderly. She shifted a little, and moaned unwittingly as her body began to respond to the soothing touch, which moved over her breasts, sending little darts of pleasure through to her groin. Shifting restlessly, her eyes widened as the other warrior removed his breech clout, and stood staring at her with hungry intent, his cock filling slowly as she watched.
“Little dove,” he murmured, in perfect English.
“How come you speak English?” she asked lamely and flushed in embarrassment.
He smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. “It pays to know our enemies,” he replied succinctly, his gaze traveling over her prone form, darkening with desire.
She knew she was done for when she felt only pride at his obvious approval. It had been so long since she had felt any tenderness, or any desire from a man. Her husband had been kind, but lacked any finesse. These so-called savages were not living up to their reputation.
“Am I your enemy?” Mary asked, feeling hurt for some reason.
“We have claimed you as our prize,” the warrior who knelt beside her said huskily, and she jumped as his obvious desire rolled over her. “It is our way,” he said, running the damp cloth between her breasts, and then cleansing beneath them, lifting the ample flesh with his free hand and brushing her nipples teasingly.
“What will you do with me?” she asked, feeling nervous for the first time. She didn’t think they would harm her, not when they were behaving so caringly. What happened when they were finished?
“I, Chatan, and my brother, Maska, will not give you up, to anyone,” the man at her side said, scowling fiercely. Mary felt a thrill at his possessive tone.
From her first sight of them, she had felt a tug of arousal, and her body had been throbbing ever since. She stared at Maska’s hard cock arching upward proudly, and felt her breath catch in her throat. She flushed, breathing hard, feeling the heat in the small cave increase.
Maska came to her side, kneeling, his dark brown gaze sweeping over her once again. She licked her lips, feeling a shot of arousal shiver through her as he focused on her mound before meeting her gaze again. His intent was more than clear.
“We will not give you up,” Chatan repeated, pinching her nipple sharply before bending his head and taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. Shocked at his sudden move, Mary cried out, arching her back at the instant spear of pleasure his warm lips closed over her sensitive bud brought. Looking down, she saw his dark hair shield his face in a silken waterfall, and moaned as he opened wider, devouring her hungrily. She felt a dampness between her thighs as he sampled her erotically, and reached out without thinking, smoothing Chatan’s hair from his face, wanting to watch him sampling her greedy flesh. Her clit throbbed, and she moved her legs restlessly. She’d had illicit dreams for years about being claimed by two Native Americans, had fantasized and been mortified at such forbidden thoughts. The reality was so much more intense than anything she could have imagined, and she let herself simply enjoy the feelings washing over her. She wanted them. Both of them.
“My brother and I desire you,” Maska murmured, stroking her cheek gently. “Such beautiful hair, and your lips and body beckon to us, like a siren. We will make you ours this night. Before the sun rises again over the river, you will belong only to us. We will kill any who think to take you from us.”
Heat flooded Mary as Maska dipped his head and tasted her other breast, mirroring what his brother was doing. Groaning, Mary felt such pleasure racing through her, that she was overcome with sensation. Her illicit fantasies about them were now being played out in glorious color. She whimpered as her nipples became their playthings, to be sampled as though they were forbidden fruit that her lovers craved more than life. Their lips were gentle but firm, sucking at her steadily. Their long hair fell across her belly and thighs, silken and cool against her heated skin.
“Please,” she murmured, not
knowing what she asked for, but wanting more of it.
Chatan lifted his head, his lips moist and a little swollen from his feasting. His amber eyes had darkened with lust, and conveying a silent promise that had her parting her lips in anticipation. His head dipped once more, and she got her first taste of him at last, sighing with relief at the gentle pressure against her mouth. He gave a low groan and pressed harder, his tongue swirling inside and sweeping over every inch of her, exploring her ravenously.
Maska peppered kisses over her body, leaving her pouting nipple to move south. Her moans of pleasure were muffled as she enjoyed Chatan’s delectable mouth, kissing him back passionately, and giving as good as she got. Their touch had triggered something in her, opening the floodgates to a rampant passion she had never imagined she possessed. She wanted this. She needed them more than she needed to breathe. They were like a drug, and one sample had made her an addict. She surrendered to them both, completely and utterly, not wanting this moment to end.
Maska nipped at the smooth curve of her hip, and nibbled along it, down to the crease where her thigh met her torso. She was so hot, the double assault on her senses sending her temperature up several notches. Sweat began to bead on her skin; Maska lapped at the tiny dew drops like a cat. He lifted her leg over his forearm, swinging it wide so that she was open to him, and then ducked beneath. She shivered at the coolness against her moist heat. She caught a glimpse over Chatan’s shoulder of Maska’s avid perusal of her most intimate flesh. Flushing a little, never having been so exposed before, she gasped as he began to stroke her, rubbing against the little button of pleasure. Her body responded enthusiastically to Maska’s touch, producing more cream, and he gave a low growl of pleasure.
He met her gaze, and lifted his fingers to his lips, licking them slowly, erotically. Something wild moved in his dark gaze, calling to her, seducing her. She moaned, her thighs parting even more. He smiled seductively, and placed his hands on her upper thighs, pushing them ever wider. She felt a cool breeze against her sodden core, and then gave a low scream of surprise when he did the unexpected. Holding her gaze, he lowered his head, burying it between her thighs. His nose nuzzled her sultry folds, his tongue darting out to taste her. Bucking at the shocking act, she gave a guttural groan of pleasure when he began to eat at her, lapping at her cream with evident pleasure.
Chatan lifted his head, smiling at her, and watching her come apart under his brother’s seductive lips.
“You are ours,” he murmured, stroking her cheek, his free hand cupping her heavy breast, tweaking her nipple teasingly. “Soon we will make you fully ours. Do you consent?”
She blinked, meeting his amber gaze, trying to process what he was saying.
“You’re asking me?” she asked, startled.
“You are more than we ever imagined,” he said, stroking tendrils of hair from her face. “We were expecting that you would not welcome us as you have. Once we realized that you are everything we have been looking for, we wanted to make sure that you want this as much as we do. We do not want you to be afraid of us. We want a willing mate.”
Whimpering in disappointment, Mary felt Maska’s mouth leave her, and looked at him. He was sin itself, his face covered with her dew, his eyes dark with lust.
“Do you consent to be our mate?” Maska asked, licking his lips, humming with pleasure. She stared at the erotic sight, panting slightly, her body sprawled out for them in wanton supplication and tingling all over.
“I will be your mate,” she whispered huskily. In that instant, all the years of feeling as though she was missing something, of feeling empty and alone, dissipated. She wanted to experience all they had to offer her. She wanted to belong…and they were claiming her.
His smile was beatific, and she felt another twinge, this time in her heart at his obvious delight. Chatan wore an identical expression, as though she had just granted them a treasured wish.
“I will bring you to your pleasure first,” Maska said, gripping her thighs firmly again, holding her spread wide. His head ducked down, and this time he thrust his whole face against her pussy, burying it between her soft folds. She screamed out shrilly, writhing helplessly as he began to feast on her again, sucking on her clit with voracious greed. Bucking, lost in pleasure, she cried out again and again, undone by the mass of sensations flooding through her.
“So beautiful, little dove,” Chatan husked, and lay beside her. He draped her injured arm over his shoulder gently, and then began to kiss her again. She felt no pain in her arm now, so far gone in pleasure that it was a distant memory. He stroked her breasts, soothing her even as her tension increased. She was lost in ecstasy, devoured by the river of sensation battering every part of her, and then she shattered. Her cries of pleasure pierced the air as she found her release.
“So fucking sexy,” Maska growled, his lips leaving her nether regions as he knelt between her thighs, his thick cock proud and erect, and glistening with excitement.
“Watch, little dove,” Chatan urged, moving to kiss her neck, shoulders, and upper torso. She looked down her body, seeing Maska push closer, and felt his thick cock press against her. She locked gazes, saw his deep desire, and felt the shock of heat as their intimate flesh connected. He then groaned loudly as he pushed forward, sinking inside her slick core, filling her slowly and surely.
“Ohhh,” she sighed, her flesh parting easily, and welcoming the intrusion with a rush of moisture. This felt like nothing before. This was heaven and bliss and nothing like the quick, awkward fucking that her husband had given her in the dark, with most of their clothes still intact. This was making love, and accepting all the pleasure that lovemaking was supposed to be. And she treasured every second of it.
“So tight and warm,” Maska snarled, his lips pulling back in an almost pained grimace. “I will not last long inside your sweet body, my precious dove.” He panted, pausing for a moment, as though savoring the experience.
“Please, I need you,” Mary begged, lifting both legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
He snarled again, gripping her hips firmly as he surged forward, to the hilt. They both moaned in delight as he filled her completely, breathing hard. Then he began to move, slowly, steadily, thrusting with deep strokes that filled her over and over, her pleasure mounting to new heights.
Mary felt a tapping at her cheek and glanced to the side, eyes widening as she saw Chatan kneel, his cock at the ready. She looked at Chatan, saw his hopeful expression, and took a taste, her tongue darting out as she sampled the tiny jewel drop of precum at the tip. Chatan moaned huskily, jerking slightly at the light touch, as though she had shocked him. She repeated the action, one part of her focused on the thick dick fucking her clenching pussy, while the rest was intent on the delicious flavor exploding on her tongue. Chatan’s essence had an earthy, yet spicy overtone, blended with a tangy hint of something that was uniquely him. She explored the head of his cock, seeing the mushroom head glistening with moisture, red and throbbing. Thick veins pulsated along the length from root to tip, and she rubbed her cheek against the thick cock, enjoying its satiny texture against her skin.
Humming with pleasure, Mary licked her prize, savoring every ridge and ripple of her lover’s beautiful manhood. Returning to the tip, she kissed it impishly, staring up at him as she opened her mouth around the thick head and sucked on it lightly. Chatan let out a guttural growl and held very still, his eyes closing to slits as he stared back. He began to move, slowly fucking her mouth with shallow thrusts, trying to tease more of his delicious essence onto her tongue.
His hands gripped her hair gently, holding her steady, before upping the tempo slightly. Moaning lustily, Mary opened wider, her jaw aching with the effort as she took him to the back of her throat and gagged a little as he fucked her mouth.
“Relax,” Chatan soothed. “Practice relaxing your throat muscles, and you will take me far more easily. You take me so well, beautiful Chenoa, beautiful dove.”
Mary obey
ed and concentrated, and after a few false starts was able to take him even deeper, feeling his heavy ball sac bouncing against her chin as he thrust steadily. Humming with need, she found her rhythm again, sucking hard and hollowing her cheeks as he withdrew, relaxing on each instroke.
Her lovers were so sexy, their skin glowing a deep coppery brown in the firelight, and glistening with sweat. Their expressions mirrored her own intense excitement as they made love to her, pleasuring her so exquisitely that she wondered about the prudes who would deny themselves such ecstasy. Her Comanche lovers treated her like a woman, not an object to be admired from afar, or handled awkwardly when the time came for a duty call.
Maska’s body moved with sinuous grace, every muscle standing out in sharp relief as he sank again and again into Mary’s moist channel. Mary thrust her hips forward with each instroke, moving in time to both her lovers. Maska seemed to lose control, his hips moving like pistons and slamming against her, his balls slapping her ass with each thrust. Moaning and clutching desperately at her blanket, Mary cried out and convulsed, coming hard. Maska gave a loud shout and jerked inside her, and came, as well, spurting his warm seed into her clenching sheath as she milked him dry. Chatan grunted, undone by the sight of Mary’s second orgasm, and Mary felt his essence flood over her tongue. She swallowed greedily, not wanting to waste a drop. She felt Chatan’s hands in her hair, stroking her scalp soothingly. She panted hard as he removed his cock before bending down and kissing her swollen lips hungrily.
Maska slid from her quivering sheath, and moved to lie beside her, stroking her torso gently, while occasionally dipping between her silken thighs to fondle her clit. They cuddled for a while, savoring the aftermath. Mary’s body felt deliciously loose, her pussy aching a little from exercising her innermost muscles.
“I thought you would torture me,” Mary said, laughing a little. “I saw you at the pond and wanted you, despite what I’ve heard of your people.”
