Sarah's Playmates (8 page)

“You’re not hurt.”

“W-what?” I could understand him!

“Your arm. It’s not broken.”

“You speak English?”

There was something forbidden and mysterious
in that smile. “A little. It’s good to speak the language of your
enemy.” His accent was pronounced.

“I’m not your enemy. I’m a traveler whose
train you’ve sabotaged. You killed so many people. Take me back
this instant!” Why was he smiling like that?

“Do they all speak English?” asked
Millie.

“No,” the Indian said. “Just me.”

His tone was pleasing, and so were his
features, which bothered me immensely. That
chest…naked…hairless…contoured with muscles…but I wasn’t going to
think about that. I wasn’t even going to look at it anymore.
“What’s your name?”

His smile revealed straight, ivory teeth.
“Laughing Hawk.”

“The hell with this!” spat Isabelle. She’d
gotten on a horse, grimacing. “If you think I’m staying to be raped
and murdered, you got another thing coming. Her heels dug into the
mare’s flank. “Ha!” she shouted, sending the animal into an all out
gallop. The hooves flung dirt, as she thundered in the other
direction. I stared at her with my mouth open, amazed and in
awe.

One of the Indians laughed, smirking at his
friend. Then he jumped on Millie’s horse and followed Isabelle, who
hadn’t looked back. I doubted her escape would last much longer,
yet I envied her spunk and courage. Distracted as we were with
their sudden departure, Millie took the opportunity to dash into
the field, quickly being swallowed by wild corn, which reached nine
feet into the air. Her captor, who grinned broadly at Laughing
Hawk, followed her leisurely, sauntering into the foliage, as if he
were on a Sunday stroll. My sister-in-law and my chaperone had
deserted me! Feeling useless and abandoned, I too darted into the
corn, but strong hands grabbed at my nightgown, the sound of fabric
ripping filling my ears.

“No!”

“You can fight, pretty woman. I don’t
mind.”

“Ooh! Stop that!” I struggled to gain my
freedom, my arm suddenly aching. “Ouch!” I dropped to my knees,
hopelessness seeping into my bones, and began to cry. I rocked back
and forth, uttering, “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t
believe this is happening.” I had just survived a horrific train
crash that had probably killed scores of people, and now I was
about to be brutalized by a heathen. A sense of despair had me
shivering. His arms went around me. “No!”

I was forced on my knees, my nightgown thrown
over my back, exposing buttocks and thighs. I wasn’t able to form a
coherent thought before something hard pressed against my pussy,
demanding entrance. Never having had anything larger than two
fingers inside of me, I screamed when he thrust, burying his tool
to the balls.

“Stop it, you pig!”

He grunted, thrusting; the feeling was not
entirely unpleasant, but I wasn’t aroused in the least. My
fingernails were dirty from the soil and weeds I gripped to steady
myself. He was insistent and brutal, hammering my tight sheath,
over and over, until he groaned, stiffening. Tears fell blinding
me, the dam bursting, and I cried, while the brute enjoyed the
virginity he had stolen. When he let me go, I collapsed to the
ground in utter despair, feeling used and violated. I just wanted
to lie there and die from shame, but it wasn’t to be.

He grabbed me, dragging me to my feet, and we
walked to where his horse was. “Sit,” he barked. I sank to the
ground, miserable and trembling.

Wetness slid down my inner thighs, a reminder
of what had happened to me. I would curse God, if I fell pregnant.
He busied himself making a fire, while in the distance I heard a
woman scream. It was either Millie or Isabelle. They were
experiencing exactly what had happened to me, or perhaps something
even worse, but I doubted that was possible. There was a slight
coolness to the air, but the fire quickly remedied this, the blaze
burning brightly. Laughing Hawk untied a rolled up blanket that was
attached to his horse, tossing it on the ground.

“Come with me.” He held out his hand.

“No.”

“You have blood on your face.”

“What do I care?”

He grabbed me, pulling me to my feet and
dragged me to a line of trees. I stumbled barefoot towards the
sound of water. At the river’s edge, he tore off a portion of my
nightgown and dunked the material, ringing it out. “Hold still.” He
wiped my face, but the rag quickly dirtied. I hadn’t realized I had
bled so badly. I touched my forehead, feeling the wound.

“Take your clothes off.”

I bristled. “I will not.” He looked at me in
such a way that I knew, if I disobeyed, he would shred the garment.
Then I would be left with nothing to wear. “Oh, fine!” I whipped it
over my head. “Are you happy now?”

“Wash. There’s too much blood.”

The water was cold, but it felt wonderful. It
wasn’t deeper than two feet, so I sat, freezing, and rinsed my
face. He stood and watched, predatory and formidable. I hadn’t had
time to process the fact that this heathen stole my virginity. If I
thought about it, I would surely cry again. My hand slid to my
abused pussy, washing away the evidence of his seed. I stood and
wrung out my hair, casting him a hateful glance. The coldness of
the air had me shivering.

“Are you happy?”

His dark eyes roamed from the top of my head
to my face. From there he went to my breasts, lingering for a long
moment before lowering to my stomach and beyond. Lust flared in his
look, and the front of his breechcloth began to rise.

Oh, great. He’s going to…do it to me
again.

“Come here.” Having no choice, I stepped from
the stream. He took the cloth, dabbing my forehead and examining
the wound carefully. “Hold this firmly to stop the bleeding.”

“Give me my nightgown.”

“No.”

Oh! You disgusting pig!

He led me up the small embankment through the
trees. Stars like diamonds glimmered over our heads, a decorative
curtain for the moon, which was partially hidden behind wispy
clouds. When we reached the fire, I sat on the blanket, wet and
shivering. I glared at my captor, wishing a snake would bite him,
but then I panicked, worrying the same might happen to me. To my
growing horror, he began to remove his clothing; the leather was
decorated with paint and beads. His buckskin leggings were untied
and tossed to the ground. When he was naked, an image of muscled
perfection approached, and I moved to the edge of the blanket. He
reached out touching my hair, and I slapped his wrist away. He
laughed at that, the sound rumbling in his chest, and then he
dragged me to him, forcing me to sit on his lap.

“No!” At that moment, two different sets of
female screams sounded, from opposite directions. “You horrible
Indians. Horrible.”

“Your people have killed mine. You shoot
children. You rape women. You burn villages. You’re the enemy.”
Anger flared in his look.

“I didn’t do it! I’m from England! I was born
in Africa! I’ve never even been to America before.”

His face was in my neck. “You’re white.
You’re the enemy.”

“That’s a rather slim way of classifying
things, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like saying all white people are
bad.”

“You say all Indians are bad.”

“No…I don’t.” But I had. I had thought of
them all as murdering, scalping heathens. “You derailed the train.
You killed so many people. My fiancé is probably dead.” Tears
blurred my vision.

“You’re in our land. We stopped the metal
beast. Maybe no more will come now. Today has been a great victory
for my people. Now we celebrate.”

“You’re horrible. You took my virginity.” He
brushed away a tear, and I was mildly surprised by this show of
compassion. “You’ve no right to touch me.” His gaze settled on my
lips, and I perceived his intentions. “No!”

Strong hands gripped my face, holding me
immobile, as an aggressive tongue plunged into my mouth, despite my
protests. His desire to subdue me had turned into a battle, because
I fought him, pushing and struggling, trying to escape those
insistent lips. The cock beneath me was rock hard and ready to
assault my virgin pussy...again. Determination renewed my struggle,
and I redoubled my efforts to fight him off, biting him.

“Ach!” He shoved me to the blanket, his face
twisted in anger. There was blood on his lip. “You’ll answer for
that.” I lifted my knees, preparing to kick him away, but he
brushed my legs aside, astonishing and worrying me with his
strength. “This time you’ll like what I do to you, white woman.
When my cock dances inside of you, you’ll scream with
pleasure.”

I swallowed nervously
.

The stars in the heavens bore witness to my
seduction, and, as I stared at them, I marveled at what the Indian
was doing to me, his face buried between my legs. I had tried to
fight him off…I truly had…but…after his tongue slid across my
clitoris, I lost the battle. From across the cornfield came the
distinct sounds of a woman’s moans, and it was Millie. Her Indian
had seduced her as well.

Laughing Hawk’s skill at cunnilingus wasn’t
to be underestimated, and, as he speared me, I closed my eyes.
“Ooohh…no…” I had never had a man touch me like this before. Their
tongues were stronger and longer than females. His thumb grazed my
nub, flicking gently, yet persistently, against the inflamed mass.
It was shameful to be writhing and trembling at the hands of a
bloodthirsty heathen, but my young, lustful body wouldn’t obey my
mind. “Stop it now,” I breathed, sounding less than convincing.

He kissed my inner thighs, leaving a moist
path, while he pressed against my clit with his thumb, maintaining
the sensual path I was on. I didn’t want to feel this good, my body
quivering and my tummy fluttering. Sensing the condition I was in,
he came between my thighs, his cock extended. The light from the
fire flickered off his skin, revealing a lean body rippling with
muscles. I felt him at my entrance, hard and demanding, and with
one thrust, he was in deep, slapping my pussy with his balls.

“Oh, my!” This felt so much better than when
he had taken me before. This time I was prepared for the intrusion;
my juices had slickened the tight passage, allowing him to glide
effortlessly. This sensation, coupled with his previous attentions,
left me panting, my heart racing wildly. I hadn’t expected it to
feel this good. I didn’t want to enjoy it. I should fight him off…I
should…but…the tingling in my center began to blaze uncontrollably.
From experience, I knew I wouldn’t last long. “No!” I gasped.
“Ooohhh…God…nooooo…” I shuddered, biting my lip, as wave after wave
of sensation swept over me. “Oh, you dirty heathen!” It was
marvelous having a penis inside of me. What a revelation! What a
magnificent instrument.

He uttered something in a language I didn’t
understand, thrusting vigorously. Then he stiffened, emptying his
seed in measured squirts. His eyes were closed, long black lashes
sweeping his cheeks. The expression on his face was an amalgam of
pain and rapture. Something moved behind him, a flash of white, and
then a loud thump registered. He gasped, and he looked as if he
were going to say something, his mouth forming an O. Blood trickled
down the side of his neck, but, instead of speaking, he collapsed
on top of me. I struggled to breathe. He was heavier than he
looked.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.” It was
Millie. “I’m sorry he took you, honey. I would’ve spared you that,
but I couldn’t.”

“Millie, oh, dear God.” I struggled to get
out from under him.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” The Indian’s cock was lodged deep, but
the hardness had begun to soften. “Help get him off me!”

She shoved the prone form none too gently. He
rolled onto the blanket, blood trickling down the side of his face.
“Come on, girl. Let’s rescue Isabelle and get the hell outta
here!”

“Where are my clothes?”

A white bundle flew my way. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“He’s got a knife on him. It’s in his belt.
I’m taking it.”

“What about the bows and arrows?”

“Don’t know how to use them.”

“Is there a rifle?”

“Don’t see one.”

“What happened to you?”

“He raped me. I bore it. I tricked him into
thinking I liked it, and I…er…got the upper hand so to speak. He’s
unconscious or dead. I don’t know or care. They didn’t show the
people on the train any mercy. Why the hell should I care? I should
kill this one.”

I panicked. “No. Don’t. He’ll have a nice
goose egg as a reminder. He won’t mess with a white woman again.”
Shame washed over me. She had pretended to enjoy her Indian’s
attentions, while I…had truly enjoyed Laughing Hawk.
Oh, you’re
a loose woman, Ms. Collins.
I had heard murmurings about my
mother…about the jungle. She had known the natives there. No one
had forced her. It humbled me to think that I wasn’t any better
than her, although I had thought myself to be.

It’s a family trait. Your grandfather liked
orgies.

Let’s not dredge up history that may or may
not be accurate.

Fine. But you still enjoyed that Indian.

Oh, be quiet!

“Where’s Isabelle?”

“Over there.” Millie pointed to the field.
“Come on. We haven’t got all night.”

“I’m a mess.” There was sperm running down my
inner thighs. What if I fell pregnant?
Oh, dear God!

Millie gripped her stick. “We’re gonna sneak
up on him and whack him. If that don’t work, stab him. Got it?”

How awful. I swallowed hard. “I never in my
life thought I’d ever—”

“Desperate times call for desperate
measures.”

“I suppose they do.”

“Do you want to stay? I could leave you
here.”