Message-ID: <25282asstr$963612611@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: yellowyenko@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <396f0fb7.3024628@news.tri-lakes.net> X-Original-Path: 12.35.116.17 Subject: {ASSM} FrontierWoman Part 2 [mf, nc, inter, vio] Date: Fri, 14 Jul 2000 18:10:13 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/25282> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates Standard Disclaimer: Story has strong sexual situations and violence, should not be read by minors or those offended by such stories! I do not in any way condone violence against women, this is a work of fiction and should be read with that knowledge! People who abuse women belong in prison!!! Part II: Nakota, the Crow brave who had ridden off with Mrs. Hansen, couldn't take much more. With his hard tool in his hand, he ran over to the nude Mrs. Hansen still thrashing in the creek, and motioned for her to roll over on her stomach. "Please...Please...." She begged, but of course they didn't know what she was saying. The other braves started hooting and hollering unintelligible to the once prudish white woman. Mrs. Hansen continued to beg as Nakota physically rolled her over on her stomach and quicker than a mountain lion, slid his cock into her dry ass, making her scream that much more. He grabbed her long brown hair with one hand and her shoulder with the other and humped her violently in the shallow pool of water. Nakota began shouting in Crow like a crazy man before dumping his load deep within her bowels. When he was done, he motioned to the others to take her. One by one they raped Mrs. Hansen in the ass and manhole, after nearly three hours, Mrs. Hansen woke, still in the water. Her joints, her ass, and her pussy ached. The cool water streaming on her, revived her quickly and she jumped up to fight again, only to find she was alone. The Crows believing her to be dead or dying had left her. She washed herself deeply with the water and knew she was going to die. She was a nude white woman with no means of defending herself, nor did she know where she was, only that she was in the wilderness of the dakotas. After she felt as clean as she was going to get, she got up and wondered around, eating berries not knowing if they were poisonous or not, nor did she care. She made a makeshift shelter and laid down and quickly went to sleep. "Damn, I wonder what she's doing out here and how did she get out here?" The trapper wondered as he cautiously looked around looking for sign, but not finding any. Standing near his horse, but distanced from her, he threw a couple of pine combs on her. Mrs. Hansen woke with a start and began thrashing around. "Hey, hey, now, I'm not going to hurt you, Ma'am." The trapper said. Mrs. Hansen looked toward him blinking her eyes, not really believing someone was speaking English to her. "Here Ma'am, put this on, Okay?" The trapper said as he threw Mrs. Hansen an extra shirt he had in his saddle bag. Mrs. Hansen grabbed the shirt and quickly put it on and then stood. "What are you doing out here, Ma'am?" The trapper asked. She, still talking a little crazy like, began telling him of her kidnapping and her whole ordeal. "Whaalll, you're safe now, Ma'am. But we need to skidaddle out of here, we are in Injun country!" He responded and got on his horse and held his hand out toward her. As though she couldn't believe her good fortune, she slowly reached out her hand and allowed him to pull her up behind him on his horse. She hugged him tightly and began to cry tears of joy. Mark Johnson had lived in the Dakotas for several years, making a meager living by trapping, mostly beaver, mink, fox, and whatever he could sell at the rendevous. Actually, he had done pretty well. He lived in the Dakota's, the Indians pretty well left him alone, not that he rocked the boat at all either. His long gray beard streaked by tobacco juice and lack of proper grooming, he looked much older than his 40 years. "We are going to my cabin, Ma'am, you can clean yourself up a bit and git sumpin to eat." Mark related to the woman. "I need to get to Dry Gulch." She whispered. "DRY GULCH!? We are at least 2 week ride from Dry Gulch!" He responded. "Two weeks...." She said to herself not realizing how far she had traveled unconscious most of the way. "And with winter approaching....we won't be going anywhere that far...now!" He continued. She said nothing. About dusk, Mark and Mrs. Hansen rode into a clearing where Mark had chosen to build his one room log cabin a few years back. A leanto for the horses were attached to the house, timber on 3 sides and a sheer rock wall on the North side made the house virtually undetectable. A spring ran along the timber on one side. "Ah, home sweet home," Mark said with a sigh as he helped the woman down before getting down himself. "I'm going to attend to the horse, you're welcome to go in the house, it ain't much but it'll git us through the winter." He said as he led his horse toward the leanto. Margaret opened the solid hinged door and stepped in the cabin and sighed, "no, it's not much!" How she longed for her own house and for....John." She sat heavily on a handmade chair, if you could call it that, and sighed. She jumped as the trapper came through the door, in his hands he had a leg of venison from the smoke pit. "We'll put this in the pot and cook it up for supper." He said as he began flittering around the familiar surroundings. After lighting a fire in the rock fireplace, he poured water over the chunk of meat and hung the pot over the fire. Mrs. Hansen had not eaten for at least 2 days and the smell of the meat cooking almost overcame her. They ate in silence, the only light in the cabin came from the fire in the fireplace, even in the dim light, Mark could see that Mrs. Hansen was quite pretty and he knew for a fact she had an even nicer body, although she needed a bit more meat on her. The weeks of being captive had taken its toll on Mrs. Hansen, her once robust build now only a shell of its former self, skinny, but that made her breasts even more prominent than before. She felt the trappers eyes on her, but she had gone through so much it didn't phase her. "Damn, we nearly ate that whole leg of venison!" Mark noticed and chuckled. "Thank you so much, I was so hungry...." She said, her eyes cast down toward the floor. "Well there's more where that came from, I've been trapping all summer and fall and have a lot of meat smoked for winter. By the way, do you know how to sew?" He asked. She nodded. "Well, I have quite a stockpile of skins in the crib outside and you're welcome to sew you up some clothes. I don't have store bought sewing stuff but I do have sinew ready from which I make my own clothes." He related. "Thank you." She replied, but right I just need sleep. Mark cleaned a corner out for her and laid down a stack of pelts for her and said, "It ain't much but it's better than pine combs." He chuckled. The woman's body ached as she stood and made her way to the pile of pelts and fell heavily into them, and sighing as she felt their softness against her skin. Mrs. Hansen woke the next morning to the smell of roasting meat. She opened her eyes and was surprised that the dark cabin was lit up bright. Mark had opened the wood shutters to allow the early morning light in. She stirred and stretched and said, "Nature calls." And made her way out of the cabin. Mark had just scooped her a plate of fried potatoes and some bacon and put it on the makeshift table, "I kilt me a couple of hogs just last week, a special treat for us, got a couple of pails of lard too." He whispered not being used to talking with someone. "Smells wonderful!" The woman said as she sat down. As they started to eat, Mark stiffened and rolled his eyes as if listening to the forest. "What?" Mrs. Hansen said. Mark held up a finger to his mouth, shushing her. "Just hearing things, I suppose." He said and picked up his fork. A few minutes later, the door swung open, Mrs. Hansen screamed out of surprise and looked over at Mark just as the large bowie knife penetrated his chest, blood trickled out of his mouth and nose. He fell backward, dead before hitting the floor. Mrs. Hansen still screaming, tried to stand but a large hand on her shoulder forced her to remain seated. "Well well well, looky here what the weasel found!" A grizzled voice said as another hand snaked over her shoulder and grabbed the meat on her plate. "Who are you and what do you want!" She demanded. The giant bear of a man let out a barrel laugh and said, "As of right now, I have no more wants. I got me a nice house, a couple of horses, skins to sell, meat in the fire, and on top of it all, a woman!" The man guffawed. Mrs. Hansen looked wildly about her for anything she could grab and hurt this man. He easily grabbed her hands and rolled her out of the chair, she landed on the trapper's body and tried to find the knife only to hear, "is this whut you looking for, woman?" She looked up and saw the knife going into the man's sheath on his belt. "Now, you is my woman from now on. I want you to drag this man out of my house." He demanded. Mrs. Hansen just laid on the floor. "I ain't telling you twice, do it!" He again demanded. Mrs. Hansen stood and taking ahold of Mark's feet, began to drag him. "Don't think of running, nowhere to run to!" He guffawed again, his mouth full of bacon. The giant man followed as she with great difficulty tried dragging Mark out of the cabin. "You could give me a hand?" She spit the words out at the giant. Working together, Mrs. Hansen and the giant mountain man dragged the dead body out of the house and into the timber. Pete, no one knew his last name, not even him, was a drifter and opportunist. He had rendevous several times with Mark and knew him quite well. He knew he would be easy pickins. Compared to Mark, Pete was a giant. He stood over 6'4" tall and weighed 250 pounds, not loose fat, mind you, but solid. His salt and peppered beard and long hair made him look even bigger. "Hell, I didn't know Mark had him a woman up here or I would have been up here sooner." He said outloud more to himself than her. She became painfully aware of the fact that under Mark's shirt she was nude. "Please, don't let this happen to me." She prayed. "It's been a long time since I've been with a woman outside of whores at rendevous." He laughed. She backed up like she was about to run, when faster than a snake strike, he grabbed her long hair. "Oww.." She screamed. Holding her hair with one hand, he ripped her shirt off with the other, revealing her alabaster reddish skin. He whistled and threw the woman down to the dirt, pressing his knee into her belly to keep her still. She began fighting him viciously, swing her arms and fists. He slapped her into omission. She laid still crying as he quickly unharnessed his belt and pulled his pants down to his knees, exposing his long hard cock. "This is what you want, isn't it," he teased as he pumped his cock a couple of times. He pried her legs open, and spit a long line of tobacco juice toward her brown bush. With two fingers, he pressed into her and up and down her manhole. "Wouldn't want to hurt myself, now would we." He guffawed. He positioned himself over the limp woman and pressed his cock against her, feeling her labia begin to open up to give him access, after the cockhead disappeared, he pulled her roughly against him, causing a gasp to come from her. He humped hard and fast against the woman, while his hands mauled her breasts and pinched her nipples bringing gasps of pain from her lips. "You better than most whores I've had." He complimented and turned his head to spit. Like a ragdoll, her body flailed as he raped her. After several minutes he groaned and dumped his load deep into her and pulled out of her with a slurp. She lay still for several seconds before the man reached down and grabbed her hair again, "clean me up woman!" And pulled Mrs. Hansen's face toward his semi erect cock, glistening from cum. She gagged and vomited half digested bacon and potatoes on his pants and the small space of ground between them. "Clean me up. I feel dirty and my yearly bath is still 3 months away!" He demanded. She continued to dry heave as she pressed her face against his crotch, the smell completely overwhelming. He guffawed and pulled his pants on. "Git over there and wash up." He said pointing to the stream. I expect lunch in an hour. Mrs. Hansen, nude, washed in the stream and returned to the house to find him all ready there, smiling. "Comere, woman and give your man a kiss." He demanded. She tried to side step him, only to have him grab her and pull her to him. He pressed his tobacco stained bearded face toward her and gave her a kiss and squeezed her bare ass. "Now, cook me some lunch!" He ordered. She went toward the pile of skins and picked up a shirt, "Hell no!" He screamed. You are not ever to wear clothes, understand!" He shouted and backhanded her hard across the cheek. She hit the floor and remained there for a few seconds before getting to the task at hand. As she fried the potatoes and cut some meat she saw no way out of her present situation. With Mrs. Hansen's back toward him, he silently stripped out of his clothes and sat back down. He rubbed his hairy chest and arms and exclaimed, "Oh Damn, look at that!" The exclamation made Margaret turn around, only to find the hairest man she'd ever seen nude and holding his giant hard cock in his hand. "I got another one, I guess from watching you flitter around!" He laughed. "Come on over here." He motioned. Shaking her head she pleaded, "No..please." He continued to motion. "Get down on your knees, woman, and do what you were created to do!" Crying, she knelt down in front of him. "Come on, show me whatcha got, bite and I'll make you wish you'd never been born!" Tears clouded her eyes as she opened her mouth and took the giant cockhead into her mouth, she fought back gagging. He rested his hands on her head as she worked his tool. "Woman, you not a bad fuck, but as a cocksucker, you're shitty!" He laughed. She continued to suck and lick his shaft up and down. "This ain't going to take all night is it?" He guffawed as he playfully struck her hard against the head. "Fuck this!" His cock slipped out of her grasp as he stood up. She fearfully looked down to the floor, a stance Taubansee taught her. He yanked her up by her hair and said, "bend over." She did so immediately, not wanting to be hit anymore, he reached over and grabbed some lard from a bowl on the table and lathered her buttocks up. She tensed, he forced her legs apart and without much fanfare, easily slid his monsterous hardon into her bowels bringing a cry of pain from her lips. She stood erect only to be forced back down by his hand. Pete plunged his erection in and out of her ass until he stiffened and spewed cum into her bowels. He pulled out and went over to the bed to lie down. "Get back to cookin woman!" He said and closed his eyes. She looked back at him and looked at the Sharps .50 rifle leaning against the wall, only to have him say, "don't even think about it." She looked back toward him and saw a menacing Colt .44-40 barrel pointing at her. He giggled, his belly jumping up and down like jello. The mountain man Pete and Mrs. Hansen stayed the winter at Mark's cabin. He took liberties with her as often as he wanted, sometimes up to 4 times daily. Despite the abuse, Mrs. Hansen's body healed of the sunburns, the joint pain, and she put on weight, almost back to her pre-captive weight. It burned her to no end to think that she ended up like this, a slave, to a calloused uncaring man that cared nothing for her except that she could work, cook, and fuck. He told her numerous occasions that that's what the good lord put women on earth for. He told her he loved her, but that still didn't keep him from tying her up when they slept, "a man's gotta be cautious you know!" Margaret came back from the spring, toting 2 buckets of water and met Pete in the clearing with two horses saddled and a pack horse. Put some skins on woman, we are going to rendevous! Part III maybe, if there is renewed interest, feedback necessary. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+