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THE GEORGIA PEACH III - The Steel Dove

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Fossy

Tribune
NOTE TO CF STAFF – I have begun a new thread for this story because the first two books generated many pages of interaction through their serialisation. I hope and plan for this final part of the trilogy story to do likewise. Therefore, I hope you agree that a new thread is warranted.
Thank you
Fossy

THE GEORGIA PEACH BOOK III

"THE STEEL DOVE"


It was the late Spring of 1865. The War between the States was coming to a close. Grant and Sherman had decimated the South, ruining its land and destroying its morale. It left a bitter taste in the mouths and minds of many devotees to the Southern cause.

More and more troops from the Confederate armies turned to guerrilla warfare, fighting their own version of the war … a lawless version.

Men like William Quantrill came out of hiding and became active once more … women like Kate Clarke followed them …

As Catherine McCown becomes Kate Clarke, this is where the third and final instalment of “The Georgia Peach” trilogy picks up the story


NOTE – THE FIRST TWO BOOKS, “The Georgia Peach” and "All is Fair"

The Georgia Peach Interactive Thread from the Serialisation -

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/thread...ry-of-the-american-civil-war.8111/post-528090

The Georgia Peach Full Illustrated Story –

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/the-georgia-peach-by-fossy.783/

The Georgia Peach Graphic Novel –

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/the-georgia-peach-graphic-novel-by-fossy.784/

All is Fair Interactive Thread from the Serialisation -


All is Fair Full Illustrated Story -

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/the-georgia-peach-ii-all-is-fair-by-fossy.794/

All is Fair Graphic Novel -

http://www.cruxforums.com/xf/resources/the-georgia-peach-ii-all-is-fair-graphic-novel-by-fossy.795/

NOTE RE ACTORS - After her success in the first two books I am delighted to say that Nina Dobrev is once again playing the part of Catherine McCown. Megan Fox has a cameo role during the story as boarding house proprietress, Grace.

I have taken the liberty of tagging the following CF’ers because you have all shown interest in supporting my previous works. I hope that you don’t mind.

@Barabbas @Barbaria1 @Beate @bkcharmer @bobinder @crumera @cruxlover @ctcua @ERIN the Brave @Eulalia @Eva Inanna @Gibbs505 @gjpain @Heineudo @Jackie1111 @jacksjg89 @Jon Smithie @Kathy @Kuba @Madiosi @Marcella @markus @messaline @MJMcHugh @montycrusto @nicole @old slave @Peony @phlebas @Puritan @Quiet Paul @RacingRodent @Rias @thehangingtree @toxidomaskjr @twonines @wildsouthman @windar @Wragg @StarbuckSlut @shredword @The Beast @thommorr @Praefectus Praetorio @elephas @malins @fallenmystic @Loxuru @Harsh Martinet @RedOrc @Grab @firstout0 @bleater @Ozz @Boris Spider @Dalriada @TheLimey @KurvyKate
 

Fossy

Tribune
The Georgia Peach III – The Steel Dove



“… It ain’t easy, livin’ off this land…

… It ain’t easy, oh how I need your hand to hold,

… No one believes a Summer could be so damn cold …”

- White Mansions, lyrics.



Prologue – As the latter half of 1864 becomes 1865 …


The Raiders broke up in the late Summer of 1864. Quantrill and his Lieutenants … The James brothers, William “Bloody Bill” Anderson, had wanted different things. Some wanted to harass Sherman as he moved through Georgia, some planned to stay around Missouri and Kentucky, homeland for many of the men, and defend their own lands … but Quantrill, despite his vicious, bloody life, had found love. He wanted to settle down if such domestic happiness was ever going to be possible.

By the Fall of 1864 Quantrill had taken on the guise of a Bushwhacking Freelancer. He led no one any longer, but when he occasionally rode with Bloody Bill’s Guerrilla’s he still received the respect he deserved. Mostly he was hidden, alone with Catherine in the small cabin that was only ever found by the local wildlife …
Despite their conscious anonymity and the love of Quantrill’s life, Catherine McCown, changing her name to Kate Clarke in an attempt to become anonymous and hide from the Federal Authorities, the notorious Raider and Guerrilla, William Quantrill, had not slipped entirely off the radar of the Union Army.

Following the old adage, “It takes a thief to catch a thief,” Union Army Captain Edwin Terrell, a leader of federal guerrillas in Spencer County, Kentucky, was commissioned to hunt down the handful of men still in Quantrill’s band. Terrell himself held the poorest of reputations. At a very young age, he had joined the Kentucky Confederate troops. After about a year, he converted to the Union side where his federal guerrillas plundered and killed Southern sympathizers. Terrell headed an official but lawless band.

The Union Guerrilla had picked up a trail for Quantrill that led him and his men to a pasture and wooded barn farmyard near Taylorville in Spencer County, Kentucky, on May 10, 1865, owned by one James H. Wakefield.




Chapter 1 - Louisville Kentucky, – 11:20am 10th May 1865


Kate Clarke crouched against the small wall of the tiny dugout. Every muscle in her body screamed defiance at the cramped position of her limbs. She clutched hard at the butt of the cocked, long barrelled old Dragoon pistol. Her knuckles ached as she curled her forefinger around the trigger and sucked the grimy steel into her mouth.
“Don’t fight,” William had told her. “If we are attacked and I am killed … if they find you, don’t fight. Just think of your God and squeeze the trigger. I promise you my love, you will not feel a thing!”

Surely nothing could be that simple? Surely there had to be at least a moment of agony as the bullet tore through her brains and out of the top of her skull? Kate closed her eyes and tried to close out the sounds of the raging gunfight.

The war was over … or so William had assured her when they set out along with a small number of men to ride along the Missouri River banks, North towards the State of the same name.

They had stopped at Wakefield’s farm. They should have been safe. Should have been within friendly bounds, but bushwhacker’s led by Edwin Terrell, a man quickly becoming William’s nemesis, had attacked them.

The surprise assault had led to chaos in the rebel guerrilla ranks. As the small band of Confederate Raiders ran to their horses, Kate had watched in horror as William’s new mount had turned skittish and panicked. She had thrown herself behind the nearby small wall and, recalling her lover’s fatalistic instruction, taken out her pistol.

Then she had watched in horror as William took a stray bullet to his trigger hand and fell. All of the Raiders who had not made a getaway lay bleeding on the dusty floor as she watched the terrible scene unfold as if in awful slow motion.

The explosive sound of William’s shotgun had been silenced and even the rifle sounds from the few of his men that remained were no longer audible. All that Kate could hear was the gratuitous cries of the Terrell’s marauding mob as they took great delight in their conquest.

The sickness bubbled up inside Kate’s body and she clamped her lips even more tightly around the cold barrel as bile filled her mouth and threatened to choke her.

Was this how is was always destined to end? She had ridden with William and his small gang ever since he had rescued her from the clutches of the monstrous Union Army, led by her Godfather, and family friend from happier times, General William Tecumseh Sherman. She had not married William, but she had taken his name … kind of. Accepting the need to escape from the burdens that the name Catherine McCown brought upon her, she reverted to Kate, her late father’s nickname for his daughter, and Clarke which was William’s second Christian name.

Kate Clarke … she felt like his wife, and he had taken care of her in their cabin in the mountains. But of late he had begun riding out again, and she had gone with him. Small raids on Union strongholds to annoy the Federals as they matched their damn way to victory. Under Quantrill’s tutelage, Kate had learned how to fire a gun, properly, better than the way she used to shoot randomly on the plantation to scare the crows.

The Plantation … White Orchard. Her family’s estate for so long, now razed to the ground, torched by the bastard who had raped her, the now dead, erstwhile plantation overseer, Tom Shepherd.

All of this went through her mind in a matter of seconds as she felt her world coming to an end.

For one brief moment she pulled the barrel out of her mouth and retched her guts up over the filthy remnants of her torn dress. William was always trying to get her to wear pants and a shirt, like a man, especially when they were riding, but despite her change of name, Kate could not completely forget that she had once been Catherine Rosemary McCown … Southern Belle and Georgia Debutant. So, it was always a dress that she wore, no matter how meagre.

It seemed an awful shame that a garment that had once been pretty should be soiled like this … firstly by the puke she had just vomited over it and soon by the blood and mucus that would explode from her skull when she fired the gun.

Quickly she replaced the barrel between her lips and was tempted to pull the trigger there and then as she felt her temporary sanctuary almost breeched by the close proximity of the Bushwhackers. But it was over. They had no interest in searching out hidden bodies. They had what they came for … William Quantrill.

“He’s still alive,” she heard one man shout. “But he can’t move, think he’s hit in the back, seems like his legs don’t work.”

She heard laughter then and it made her want to puke once more. The bastards were still mocking him, even in the throes of his death.

“Get him inside Wakefield’s Farm, we’ll get a medic to look him over. Like to see this bastard hang, so if we can fix him we should.”

And then everything was silent. Eerily so. There was no living person left in sight and the sudden silence belied the violence that had so recently echoed around this smallholding of a farm.

Kate allowed herself the indulgence of a self-pitying sob that turned into a crying fit, one that racked her body for a full ten minutes, before she tentatively pushed the wooden frame that lay against the wall to one side and peeked out into the open air.

There was no sound at all apart from the wind as it took up a more vibrant howl through the trees.

It was hardly anytime more before a man rode up carrying a bag. It was a Doctor’s bag, reminding her of the one Lieutenant Sampson had brought into the run-down building near the Oostanuala camp. Inside that bag had been the instruments of her torture. She hoped this version carried more benevolent tools.

Was William still alive? Of course, she hoped so, but … if he was really paralysed and in the hands of his hated enemy, would not a more immediate death be preferable? After all that was what she had been prepared for as she sat with the gun barrel in her mouth.

It was nothing but five minutes more by the time she had her answer.

“He won’t last the night.”

“Fatal injury … chest wound … bullet lodged …”

William was dying and part of her was pleased that he would not be made a trophy of the Bushwhacker’s conquest.

It was time to leave this place.


To Be Continued ...
 

Attachments

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
The Georgia Peach III – The Steel Dove



“… It ain’t easy, livin’ off this land…

… It ain’t easy, oh how I need your hand to hold,

… No one believes a Summer could be so damn cold …”

- White Mansions, lyrics.



Prologue – As the latter half of 1864 becomes 1865 …



The Raiders broke up in the late Summer of 1864. Quantrill and his Lieutenants … The James brothers, William “Bloody Bill” Anderson, had wanted different things. Some wanted to harass Sherman as he moved through Georgia, some planned to stay around Missouri and Kentucky, homeland for many of the men, and defend their own lands … but Quantrill, despite his vicious, bloody life, had found love. He wanted to settle down if such domestic happiness was ever going to be possible.

By the Fall of 1864 Quantrill had taken on the guise of a Bushwhacking Freelancer. He led no one any longer, but when he occasionally rode with Bloody Bill’s Guerrilla’s he still received the respect he deserved. Mostly he was hidden, alone with Catherine in the small cabin that was only ever found by the local wildlife …
Despite their conscious anonymity and the love of Quantrill’s life, Catherine McCown, changing her name to Kate Clarke in an attempt to become anonymous and hide from the Federal Authorities, the notorious Raider and Guerrilla, William Quantrill, had not slipped entirely off the radar of the Union Army.

Following the old adage, “It takes a thief to catch a thief,” Union Army Captain Edwin Terrell, a leader of federal guerrillas in Spencer County, Kentucky, was commissioned to hunt down the handful of men still in Quantrill’s band. Terrell himself held the poorest of reputations. At a very young age, he had joined the Kentucky Confederate troops. After about a year, he converted to the Union side where his federal guerrillas plundered and killed Southern sympathizers. Terrell headed an official but lawless band.

The Union Guerrilla had picked up a trail for Quantrill that led him and his men to a pasture and wooded barn farmyard near Taylorville in Spencer County, Kentucky, on May 10, 1865, owned by one James H. Wakefield.




Chapter 1 - Louisville Kentucky, – 11:20am 10th May 1865


Kate Clarke crouched against the small wall of the tiny dugout. Every muscle in her body screamed defiance at the cramped position of her limbs. She clutched hard at the butt of the cocked, long barrelled old Dragoon pistol. Her knuckles ached as she curled her forefinger around the trigger and sucked the grimy steel into her mouth.
“Don’t fight,” William had told her. “If we are attacked and I am killed … if they find you, don’t fight. Just think of your God and squeeze the trigger. I promise you my love, you will not feel a thing!”

Surely nothing could be that simple? Surely there had to be at least a moment of agony as the bullet tore through her brains and out of the top of her skull? Kate closed her eyes and tried to close out the sounds of the raging gunfight.

The war was over … or so William had assured her when they set out along with a small number of men to ride along the Missouri River banks, North towards the State of the same name.

They had stopped at Wakefield’s farm. They should have been safe. Should have been within friendly bounds, but bushwhacker’s led by Edwin Terrell, a man quickly becoming William’s nemesis, had attacked them.

The surprise assault had led to chaos in the rebel guerrilla ranks. As the small band of Confederate Raiders ran to their horses, Kate had watched in horror as William’s new mount had turned skittish and panicked. She had thrown herself behind the nearby small wall and, recalling her lover’s fatalistic instruction, taken out her pistol.

Then she had watched in horror as William took a stray bullet to his trigger hand and fell. All of the Raiders who had not made a getaway lay bleeding on the dusty floor as she watched the terrible scene unfold as if in awful slow motion.

The explosive sound of William’s shotgun had been silenced and even the rifle sounds from the few of his men that remained were no longer audible. All that Kate could hear was the gratuitous cries of the Terrell’s marauding mob as they took great delight in their conquest.

The sickness bubbled up inside Kate’s body and she clamped her lips even more tightly around the cold barrel as bile filled her mouth and threatened to choke her.

Was this how is was always destined to end? She had ridden with William and his small gang ever since he had rescued her from the clutches of the monstrous Union Army, led by her Godfather, and family friend from happier times, General William Tecumseh Sherman. She had not married William, but she had taken his name … kind of. Accepting the need to escape from the burdens that the name Catherine McCown brought upon her, she reverted to Kate, her late father’s nickname for his daughter, and Clarke which was William’s second Christian name.

Kate Clarke … she felt like his wife, and he had taken care of her in their cabin in the mountains. But of late he had begun riding out again, and she had gone with him. Small raids on Union strongholds to annoy the Federals as they matched their damn way to victory. Under Quantrill’s tutelage, Kate had learned how to fire a gun, properly, better than the way she used to shoot randomly on the plantation to scare the crows.

The Plantation … White Orchard. Her family’s estate for so long, now razed to the ground, torched by the bastard who had raped her, the now dead, erstwhile plantation overseer, Tom Shepherd.

All of this went through her mind in a matter of seconds as she felt her world coming to an end.

For one brief moment she pulled the barrel out of her mouth and retched her guts up over the filthy remnants of her torn dress. William was always trying to get her to wear pants and a shirt, like a man, especially when they were riding, but despite her change of name, Kate could not completely forget that she had once been Catherine Rosemary McCown … Southern Belle and Georgia Debutant. So, it was always a dress that she wore, no matter how meagre.

It seemed an awful shame that a garment that had once been pretty should be soiled like this … firstly by the puke she had just vomited over it and soon by the blood and mucus that would explode from her skull when she fired the gun.

Quickly she replaced the barrel between her lips and was tempted to pull the trigger there and then as she felt her temporary sanctuary almost breeched by the close proximity of the Bushwhackers. But it was over. They had no interest in searching out hidden bodies. They had what they came for … William Quantrill.

“He’s still alive,” she heard one man shout. “But he can’t move, think he’s hit in the back, seems like his legs don’t work.”

She heard laughter then and it made her want to puke once more. The bastards were still mocking him, even in the throes of his death.

“Get him inside Wakefield’s Farm, we’ll get a medic to look him over. Like to see this bastard hang, so if we can fix him we should.”

And then everything was silent. Eerily so. There was no living person left in sight and the sudden silence belied the violence that had so recently echoed around this smallholding of a farm.

Kate allowed herself the indulgence of a self-pitying sob that turned into a crying fit, one that racked her body for a full ten minutes, before she tentatively pushed the wooden frame that lay against the wall to one side and peeked out into the open air.

There was no sound at all apart from the wind as it took up a more vibrant howl through the trees.

It was hardly anytime more before a man rode up carrying a bag. It was a Doctor’s bag, reminding her of the one Lieutenant Sampson had brought into the run-down building near the Oostanuala camp. Inside that bag had been the instruments of her torture. She hoped this version carried more benevolent tools.

Was William still alive? Of course, she hoped so, but … if he was really paralysed and in the hands of his hated enemy, would not a more immediate death be preferable? After all that was what she had been prepared for as she sat with the gun barrel in her mouth.

It was nothing but five minutes more by the time she had her answer.

“He won’t last the night.”

“Fatal injury … chest wound … bullet lodged …”

William was dying and part of her was pleased that he would not be made a trophy of the Bushwhacker’s conquest.

It was time to leave this place.


To Be Continued ...
Great start! Really draws the reader in. But you didn't warn us that it would be very short!
 

Fossy

Tribune
Chapter 2 – James’ home, St. Joseph, Missouri – 5pm 18th May 1865


(8 Days after the shoot-out at Wakefield’s Farm)



Jesse James stood in the doorway of his single-story home and stared at the forlorn figure walking painfully towards him. He cocked his head to one side and frowned, his heavy brows almost concealing the glint of his eyes. Surely this was Kate, it sure looked like her. He inched his head forward until his neck took on the appearance of a plucked chicken popping out of the open shirt collar.

The James brothers had lived here for some time, even before splitting from Quantrill, and they had laid a little lower than William had, given the war was entering its final stages. The female shape approaching looked to be exhausted, her dress so badly torn at the front that one shapely breast almost spilled out of the dusty, spoiled garment. Her feet were shoeless and bleeding from the long walk. Kate had taken a horse from the devastation at Wakefield’s Farm and ridden for three whole days to get away from the scene of William’s death. Then her mount had been so exhausted she was forced to leave it behind. A hitched two-day ride in a covered wagon followed by a painful walk of a similar length, had finally gotten her to the James’ home. It was the only place she could think of to go. She still carried the old pistol in her right hand, which, as she approached the house, Kate slipped inside the front of her torn dress.

“Kate?” Jesse said quizzically as she limped painfully towards the boardwalk steps. “Kate Clarke?”

The young girl came to a shuddering halt, swaying from side to side as if about to topple over.

“Bushwhackers, over week ago …” she managed to force out from between clenched teeth, “They killed William, damn near killed me too.”

James shook his head in sympathy and reached out to take her arm. “I’m real sorry to hear that girl,” he said softly, “Better come inside, you look beat.”

“Thank you, Jesse, I did not know where else to go.”

Just the simple act of speaking those words almost finished her, but she managed to shuffle painfully into the semi-darkness of the house. Jesse pulled out a chair from the dining table and guided Kate gently onto it. A man of few words, he always had been even when he rode with William, he bustled to the back room and returned with a small glass filled with whisky.

“Drink it,” he instructed, “… it will calm your mind.”

He pulled a large blanket from the rocking chair and placed it around Kate’s trembling shoulders. “Here cover yourself with this, you can stay here ‘til you get yourself together.”

Kate needed no second bidding and, after pulling the blanket tightly to her body and tilting the glass to her mouth, she properly exhaled for the first time in days.

The whisky caught in her throat and she spluttered a little, but it warmed her body and eased her frantic thoughts. Her fingers gripped the glass with a tightness that reflected the trauma she was still dealing with and her open eyes simply stared across the room into nothing.

What would she do? Once upon a time she had a family, and a home … an estate, and slaves … but now she literally had nothing. She took another swig at the glass and this time the hard liquor didn’t make her cough at all as the whisky hit her stomach.

Jesse came back into the room accompanied by his brother Frank, who had been out back chopping logs. Both men walked directly over to the seated girl, Frank sighing heavily.

“I’m so sorry Kate, hard times.” He winced a little as he looked away before saying, “You okay little lady? Did they …?”

Kate shook her head and shrugged. “No, they did not get to me at all, I hid myself from their eyes. I saw everything though. William getting shot, the medic declaring him fatally wounded … it was horrible …” tears filled her eyes. She reached inside her tattered dress and pulled out the pistol, the movement spilling her other breast out for the men to see. “He even gave me this … but I did not need it.”

Jesse swallowed and tried not to look at the shapely flesh now on display. With a grim look he took the pistol gently from her and placed it on the table.

“Get the girl a shirt and a skirt Frank, then we should fill her a bath. We got a nice tin bath Kate and I can drum up a lake full of hot water. You can just wallow for a while and let the good Lord take those aches and pains away.

Kate managed a weak smile and stood to follow both men into a side room.

Thirty minutes later the bath was steaming and part filled with hot water.

“Take your time Kate,” Frank said gently, “Make the most of it, none of us gets a hot bath like this very often.”

The girl nodded without expression and unhitched the belt at her waist. “I did not even see them coming …” she said with a quiet desperation, “… I’m so sorry William …” Kate needed this bath, but she needed rest and sleep more.

Almost as if in a trance she reached to the hem of her dress. Frank swallowed hard when he saw what she was about to do.

“Perhaps I should leave you …?”

“One name I heard was Terrell, Edwin Terrell, and I saw the bastard standing over William while he lay bleeding,” she said as she pulled the dress over her head and dropped it in an untidy heap to the floor.

Frank James gulped his spit back down his throat as her firm, full breasts were revealed, and he tried unsuccessfully to avert his gaze.

“He’s a Union Bushwhacker, so you probably heard right. He’s been riding here and there abouts too.” As he spoke, Kate remained blissfully unaware of his obvious discomfort as she slipped her cotton drawers down her shapely legs and stepped out of them.

Frank James cursed his inability to move as his eyes fixed on the tidy triangle of short, dark hair that now grew between her thighs. Kate raised one leg and placed her foot tentatively into the bath. Frank could not recall when he had last seen a body as firm and nubile as the one now on display. Tight vaginal lips, shrouded by soft folds of skin, healed of all previous atrocities performed on her person, hard nipples providing a reddish-brown tip to her perfect breasts. He felt a sudden push from his groin as his cock stiffened, and the Confederate Raider felt the overwhelming need to bite down on his bottom lip in an attempt to quell his growing ardour.

“You settle yourself right in there while Jesse n I find you some clothes,” he said quickly as she lowered herself into the tub and smiled in his direction. As he left the room Kate sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the comforting warmth to envelope her aching body and tortured mind.

Frank, meanwhile, dropped the heavy curtain back into place across the intervening doorway and bustled quickly to the main room where Jesse was seated in his rocker.

“Shirt and a worn skirt on the table Frank, they were Ma’s so should fit … kinda …”

Zerelda James, the James’ brother’s mother, lived with her third husband, Doctor Reuben Samuel and their other children out in California, but the James boys still has some of her things from the short time she had spent here with them a few months previous.

“… You can take ‘em through if n you want …” Jesse, with a twinkle in his eye, smiled at his brother.

With a slightly embarrassed nod the elder brother picked the shabby garments up and headed back to the vantage point behind the curtain. Saying a short silent prayer, asking for forgiveness, he unbuttoned the front of his pants and eased out the thick shaft of his almost fully erect penis. Peering through the small gap he began to move his foreskin back and forth as he watched the reclining figure of the beautiful naked girl now bathing in their back room. The upper part of her body was all he could see, and momentarily his gaze focused on the terrible criss-cross of scars that adorned her visible flesh. He found them both horrifying and stimulating and the very provocative sight was, in short order, more than enough to draw a sudden release of seed from his pulsing organ. He gasped quietly as the thick semen hit the curtain and dripped over his hand. Frank cursed himself for his weakness and grabbed a piece of nearby sacking to clean himself and the curtain dry.

Quickly he wiped away the drying stains and pushed his softening, satiated cock back inside his pants.

“Gotcha clothes Kate, I’ll leave them just here by the curtain.” Without entering the bathing room, he pushed his hand through the gap where the curtain halves joined and left the garments in a pile for her.

He heard a gentle splash of water as if she had move position and then her voice as she said, “You can bring them on in Frank, it’s alright.”

“No, thank you Kate, ‘tain’t right that I should come in there while you’re naked. I will just leave them here. Just reach under the curtain for them and I’ll go find you some socks and maybe a pair of Ma’s old boots.”

There was a short silence and then Kate replied, “Whatever you say Frank. I will not be long, almost finished in here.”

The elder James brother thanked the Lord that he had been able to satisfy his desire-fuelled urges with that quick, single-handed motion. The shame of what he had done though, would have been nothing to that which he would have felt had he gone back into the bathing room with a fully erect penis and nothing but her perfectly naked body, dripping with soapy water, to curtail his lustful thoughts.

If Frank had ventured into the bathing room, he would have seen Kate soaping her pubic hair and taking a razor to it. Whose razer it was, either Frank’s or Jesse’s, she neither knew nor cared. It wasn’t even that she liked her mound to be bare … but denuding her body like this made her remember the brutal treatment had received, and it fuelled her anger. She wanted to be angry, needed to be, if she was ever going to avenge William’s brutal death.

Without peering inside at all, Frank listened a while longer to her splashing gently as he picked out a pair of woollen socks from the drawers just by the curtains. Boots were back by the doorway to the house. Without a word he dropped the socks through the curtain and retired back into the main room to share a cigar with his brother.
 

Attachments

Fossy

Tribune
Chapter 3 – James’ home, St. Joseph, Missouri – 6:30pm 18th May 1865


“These are perfect Jesse, thank you, and to you too Frank.” Kate straightened down the skirt and the white sleeveless top. It was all they had of Ma’s that would likely fit. But it would more than do given the tattered and torn state of the dress she had arrived in.

“Boots okay?” Frank said between draws on the large cigar he held between his teeth.

“They’re also perfect boys, maybe a size too big which makes them easy to get on and off.”

“You sure Kate?”

“Like I said, they’re perfect Jesse.” It was less than a year since Kate had been Catherine and Mistress of a huge Estate and Plantation … it seemed a lifetime away.

“Just one thing boys. Will you take my old pistol and swap it for a .45, belt and holster?”

The brothers stared at her for a minute or two and then Frank chuckled. “What d’you want with a .45? A pretty little thing like you would never even lift it, never mind shoot it.”

Kate’s expression took on a determined look. “I want a .45, belt and holster Frank.”

“The kick would knock you off your feet Kate,” Jesse added, doing his best to avoid appearing overly patronising.

“Listen. We will do you the deal you want, and take the old pistol off you, but let me find you a Derringer … something smaller.”

Kate stared at him and her eyes were suddenly cold. “I want to kill Terrell,” she said softly, “I need a .45. It’s what William had. I want one.”

“That’s silly talk girl. The bushwhacker’s would shoot you down before you got within firing distance!”

Her expression remained equally as determined as she said, “If they can shoot me then I surely can shoot them … especially if I have a .45.” She paused then added, “I have to do this boys, I have no choice.”

Jesse shrugged his shoulders, his demeanour becoming resigned. “You’ll need more than a .45,” he said cocking his head to one side, “You ever fired one of these new Winchesters?”

She nodded her head slowly. “William taught me some. I got pretty good. Hit a squirrel from a hundred paces,” Kate’s face broke into a smile.

“I will need a horse too, and a bedroll and blanket and …”

“Whoa, little lady,” Jesse responded, “… and where d’you think we’re getting all of this from huh. We want to help you, course we do … you are … were, Will’s girl, but …”

Kate shrugged and stared at him expressionlessly. Her eyes still wore a cold, unfeeling, haunted look, and they were boring into his head knowingly.

“Did you like seeing me naked?” She said suddenly. “Better than the whores in downtown St Joseph’s huh?”

Frank swallowed and felt the hot flush pawing at his collar. “Fuck it Kate, don’t talk that way. Tain’t right, we were good friends to William.”

Moving to the curtain that separated this living area from the bathing room, she drew a finger across the drape and held it up in front of her face, rubbing the tip of her thumb over the slight gleam of still sticky semen.

“I can pay you boys in kind, both of you,” she said lowering her eyelids, “No one need ever know.”

Jesse swallowed hard and cursed the sudden twitch in his groin. If they did what she was suggesting no one could ever find out. But dealing supplies like those she wanted against her young, firm body was like dealing with the devil himself. They would surely burn in hell if they succumbed to such temptation. He looked at Frank and then at Kate, and a lump caught in his throat.

“What d’you say brother,” he said. Frank was silent, but, with his eyes raking Kate’s body from head to toe and back again, he slowly nodded.

The girl smoothed the skirt and pushed her unfettered breasts against the thin cotton of the sleeveless shirt. “Okay boys, if that’s alright with the two of you, we have a deal.”

Jesse shook his head. “What the hell are we doing here? You just lost your man Kate, and we’re doing deals on your body?” He shuddered. “Tain’t right, just ain’t right.”

“I have to do what I have to do,” she replied, the tone of her voice still reflecting some of her breeding, even after enduring everything she had since that awful day in the May of last year. She had somehow survived it all, but Catherine McCown was gone for ever, and Kate Clarke was a totally different girl.

“So that makes it right Jesse.” She continued. “You want to fuck me, then that’s alright too. Whatever it takes to get those weapons, the supplies and the horse. I know you can’t be giving me things for nothing, so the deal is the deal.”

She smiled, hands on hips, and waited.

“So, do we have a deal boys? Or is it the whores downtown for you, like always?”

Frank stared at her, and wondered who she was. They had first met her over a year ago, when despite being abused and exhausted, she still retained an overriding, demure refinement. But now she seemed like some sort of unfeeling devil-girl, making her lewd offers and grasping at their very souls.

Jesse looked at her. He couldn’t help himself and that single glance in her direction committed him to whatever warped activity she had in mind in order to ‘pay’ for their assistance. He coughed self-consciously and said, “Deal. I think you’re a crazy young girl, but what the hell.” He raised a finger and circled it around the room. “But just between the three of us, agreed.”

Kate laughed, “You think I want to advertise the fact that I’m selling out my body to a couple of dangerous outlaws. I sure will not be saying anything, so rest easy.”

Once again, her hands went to her hips, “But before we do anything, show me what I’m getting for my troubles, and then I’ll put up the first payment.”


To Be Continued ...
 

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Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Would you buy a used car from this woman? Way to assert yourself, Kate! Don’t be shy about employing whatever means of persuasion will get you what you want!
 

Fossy

Tribune
Chapter 4 – James’ home, St. Joseph, Missouri – 7:30pm 18th May 1865


Kate settled on a Colt, the longer cylinder model, that Jesse said had belonged to Cole Younger, another one of William’s erstwhile Raiders. She held it comfortably in her palm, and enjoyed the feel. William had showed her how to fire a revolver, and she had shot rifles since being a young girl at White Orchard.

“It feels good, this is the one.”

Jesse stared at her, “You’re a crazy girl, you’ll be dead the first time you try to pull the trigger. It’s too heavy, take this …” he pointed to a Derringer. It can even fit inside the top of your skirt, with your shirt pulled down you can surprise anyone with it.”

“I like the Colt.” She was certain and so that was it. Having come this far neither James brother was going to risk his turn at her nubile flesh, but Frank couldn’t resist a final comment.

“You’re making trouble for yourself with a gun like that Kate, and that’s no mistake.”

Narrowing her gaze at him, the girl replied, “It’s my trouble and I’ll deal with it my way. I don’t need your advice nor your concern, thank you Frank James.”

She took off the gun belt and laid it on the table. “Okay, so that’s the pistol and the provisions for me, and we have already agreed how I would pay for them.” She smiled and jerked her head towards the opening that was the entrance to where the cots were placed.

“How about you get payment for these Frank, and then I can pay you Jesse, for the horse.”


******


“Perhaps I should have taken this instead of the Winchester as my other weapon along with the Colt,” Kate whispered as she carefully drew back the heavy foreskin and uncovered the purple head of Frank’s cock. “It looks more lethal …” The elder James brother squirmed under her touch and blessed the fact that she had headed here to their door, rather than anywhere else.

Her fingers worked at him as she moved them steadily back and forth while he fumbled at the firm mounds of her chest and tried to focus on prolonging the agonising pleasure that pulsed against her palm.

“Slowly,” he gasped as the swelling in his balls became almost too much to bear. She giggled and slipped her touch deeper to seek out the tight ring of his anus.

“Ohhhh fuck!” he uttered with a long drawn out groan, and he heard her sigh of accomplishment as she curled her grip once more around his shaft and watched the sudden stream of thick sperm spurt up his belly and over her fingers.

“Suck it,” he snapped somewhat testily, his hands reaching down and clamping tightly around her head, “Get it in your mouth, now!”

Her level of carnal knowledge was unrecognisable from when she had been the innocent victim of oral rape by Sampson and his brutes. She understood only too well what Frank James wanted.

Kate quickly covered the still spurting head with her lips, allowing the receding ejaculation to empty out into her mouth. Frank almost screamed with pleasure as the long, rigid stem of his cock brushed the back of her throat, and she gagged reflexively before pulling away from him and wiping a hand across her mouth.

“One down,” she grinned matter-of-factly. “Jesse, your turn.”


Chapter 5 – Outside the James’ home, St. Joseph, Missouri – Early Evening, 24th May 1865


Kate pulled the wide brim of the new style Stetson hat down over her eyes and hitched the long-barrelled Winchester rifle hard against her shoulder. Sighting quickly, she squeezed off three shots and was rewarded as the cactus burst open in three different places. William had taught her well.

The spine covered plant was almost two hundred yards away, but she had picked her spots quickly and aimed well. Could she do it if the cactus was replaced by a human being? After everything she had been through Kate knew that she held no qualms about that whatsoever! Putting those three bullets into Edwin Terrell and then watching him die would bring her a huge amount of satisfaction and certainly no regrets.

Holding the Winchester in her left-hand Kate reached for the Colt which was belted low on her hip. She recalled Jesse’s words.

“Point as if you are pointing your finger and then squeeze the damn trigger, do not pull at it.”

She raised the Colt and applied gentle pressure to the trigger. The kickback was far less than she had expected. Nowhere near as much as that old pistol she had before, and the shot was far more accurate. The next cactus along was blown away in one and she smiled her satisfaction. No need for either Jesse or Frank James to worry, Kate Clarke could take care of herself.

Nodding with self-approval she trudged back to where her horse was tethered. “Let’s head back my friend,” she mounted and then patted the horse.

Despite wearing a skirt, she rode the horse like a man and as she trotted through St Joseph’s Main Street the looks of disapproval from the fancy women about town was evident. The war was almost over, for all intents and purposes it was ended, and these people had known suffering. But they were still unprepared to accept the dishevelled young girl, living in sin like a whore with those outlaw James brothers. They did not know who she was, and in any event any benevolent legacy or demand for goodwill that Quantrill’s Raiders might have left behind, was long gone.

She had been at the James home over a week now, and she still seemed to be paying back her side of their deal. Truth be told, she liked the companionship, and any self-remonstration that might have fleetingly plagued the minds of the James brothers, was long gone.


******


Kate straddled Jesse’s naked body and reached down to grip his erection in her palm. Carefully she inserted the pulsating head of his cock in between her pliable soft folds and began to lower herself down until her bare ass cheeks rested on his thighs. Jesse was a big man, and the first time he had entered her it had been painful, but she had gritted her teeth until their bodies met and she had accommodated every inch. Then she had ridden him hard until his expression turned desperate and his release jetted inside her as he squeezed fiercely at her jutting breasts, pinching her nipples until they had swollen to twice their normal size.

In general, she found her ‘relationship’ with men strange. She had known such harsh treatment where monsters had forced themselves upon her poor defenceless, vulnerable body, and yet if she was given the chance, she could use that same body and mind to manipulate and influence the toughest of outlaws into doing what she wanted.

Even so her breasts were sore from the rough handling they had received, but Kate had to admit to feeling an unfamiliar sense of excitement over her ménage-a-trois with these boys.

She reached behind and gathered Jesse’s testicles into her hand, stroking gently with thumb and forefinger while moving herself slowly on his thick shaft. He stared up at her and groaned, his body taut as a bowstring and his gaze focused on the stiff, pebbled teats of her bruised and swollen nipples.

“Damn girl, you’re the hottest little thing I ever knew …” he gasped out these words as she raised herself to the tip of his erection before plunging back down once more.

“Better than those fancy whores in town huh Jesse?”

“No fucking contest,” he laughed thrusting hard and upwards into her.


******


“I gotta be leaving tomorrow, I’m ready now thanks to you boys, and your attention.” She had been here long enough and now it was time to exact the revenge she sought.

“You’re crazy, Kate, we told you that,” Frank spoke between taking chews on his thick cigar. “What can you do out there, on your own? Those Bushwhackers are like savages. Murderers every last one of ‘em. You’re just gonna get yourself killed.”

“They need killing Frank, especially that bastard Terrell.”

“But you’re just a girl for God’s sake Kate. Young girls don’t fight Bushwhackers!”

“I’m not gonna fight him Jesse, I’m just gonna kill him.” She finished pulling her loose, sleeveless top back on, smiling a little bashfully at Frank, and added, “Listen boys, I’m not stupid enough to think I’m a match for these men, but I can outwit them long enough to do what I gotta do.” Kate stood so that she could tighten the drawstring on her skirt.

The James brothers had gotten used to having her around.

“I’ll leave in the morning, G’night boys.”


To Be Continued ...
 

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Fossy

Tribune
Chapter 6 – Outside the James’ home, St. Joseph, Missouri – 8am 25th May 1865


“We wish you well Kate, but I do not think we will see you round these parts again. My money’s on Terrell.” Squinting his eyes, Frank James looked through the rising sunshine at the young girl mounted on the black Stallion. Blankets strapped to its flanks, Winchester and Colt holstered and a Bowie Knife tucked into a leather belt that wrapped tightly around her skirt.

“You’re one crazy girl, but me and my brother are obliged for your exquisite company Miss Clarke.” He grinned and she smiled back, before kicking her booted heels against the Stallion and turning to leave.


******


The rains came on her second day of riding, just as Jesse had predicted, and they arrived with a vengeance that soaked everything though, including Kate, within minutes.

Pulling the thin poncho over her body and hooking the Stetson down low she ducked her head into the driving downpour, and headed for the old Indian funeral stones, high in the mountains at a spot that looked out over the landscape for miles. It was where Frank and Jesses had told her to go.

It took another hour to reach the shelter of the hollowed-out caves near the stones, but horse and rider eventually eased under the protective outcrop of rock and Kate breathed a sigh of relief. The rain was driving across the entrance to the cave, but inside they were well protected.

A fire would have been heaven sent but she resisted the temptation to light one. This was the trail of the Missouri Bushwhackers and she had no idea how near she was to them … or not, but she did not wish to be detected. Instead, having tethered her mount, Kate crouched down into her blanket and closed her eyes.

She had no plan, no strategy, and now, with a howling storm blowing, she began to have doubts. It had all seemed so simple back in St Joseph. Acquire the weapons, get a horse, then pick up Terrell’s trail and kill him. She had never thought it through as far as what to actually do if or when she found him. If he was to appear right now at the entrance to this small cave Kate had no idea how she would react.

She pulled the brim of her Stetson down further and gazed out into the darkness, wishing right now that William was here with her. She had had plenty of time to grieve him as she took over a week to get from Wakefield’s Farm to the James’ home. Laying in a covered wagon, hallucinating through exhaustion … she had dreamed of William and happier times gone by … but every time she woke, her living nightmare had returned.

Frank had been right, she must be crazy. What chance did she have against Terrell and his mob? She had courage for sure, but lacked anything by way of expertise.


******


The rains had stopped and the storm eased when Kate opened her eyes. Somehow, she had slept solid for eight hours without moving and now her bladder screamed for relief. The day was already bathed in sunshine and the warmth crept into through the opening to the cave as Kate squat in a corner, her cotton drawers round her ankles and her skirts pulled up, while the Stallion watched with interest.

Taking a handful of coarse grass she wiped the drops away as best she could and stood up … then froze. Coming towards her were two Indian braves.

Indians! Fuck she hadn’t even considered encountering any savages … They were likely renegade Chickasaw, angry natives avoiding the reservation and still fighting the US Government. Kate guessed that the fact she too was fighting the Federal State would count for very little in their covetous minds should she claim to be on their side!

But in they came, lean, muscular bodies silhouetted against the bright opening to the cavern.

Kate could not recall ever moving so quickly in her life. With her drawers still locked around her ankles she threw herself sideways and fumbled for the Colt, having temporarily discarded the belt prior to her ablutions. The Winchester was closer to hand and she grabbed at it as the braves spotted Kate and came hard at her. She squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened and panic set in. It quickly registered that the bullet must have jammed in the barrel!

The full weight of one of her attackers crashed into her and knocked her sideways. His powerful grip closed around her wrist and caused her to drop the rifle, which, along with the Colt was gathered up by the second warrior.

Kate could smell the musky odour of his crotch as he pinned her down, his muscle-bound thighs astride her neck.

“Now I take you back to Chickasaw camp with me white woman,” he grunted in a heavily pigeoned English, and Kate stared up at him helplessly. He reached casually behind his strident position and closed his fingers onto one breast. He twisted hard and Kate groaned.

The brave laughed, “We take you alive and I promise that at my camp you will scream for many days before we allow you to die!”

Strangely Kate felt no fear. Only a calm acceptance that she had failed in her quest, and that she was now going to pay for her mistakes. In a single moment she tried to prepare herself for the rape and torture that would come her way, and in that brief time the face of the warrior that towered above her exploded into a welter of blood and bone as he was hurled sideways away from her prostrate body.

The second brave turned quickly and was similarly dealt with. Confused about what was going on, Kate pulled herself into a sitting position and pulled her drawers up.

“Some shots huh lady? Took this one’s head right off his shoulders! Cole Griffin at your service ma’am.” The man facing her dressed in dusty clothes, sporting a thick leather waistcoat, took a somewhat extravagant bow.

“The Winchester … the bullet … it stuck … I …” Kate blurted out her words, “It jammed, or I would have had them otherwise.” Kate responded trying hard to keep the hysteria out her voice.

“Otherwise don’t count Miss …”

Kate looked him hard in the eye and said, through an expressionless face, “Kate Clarke,” she held out her hand.

“Lucky for you I came around when I did, Miss Clarke. You minded to tell me what you are doing out here in territory riddled with the Chickasaw that won’t go to their reservation, and Bushwhackers who still think the war is going on?”

Kate simply stared at him and said nothing. She picked up her gun belt and refastened it low on her hips, making sure he saw the Colt. She did not trust this stranger who had appeared from nowhere, she could not afford to.

“Okay have it your way Miss Clarke. If you want to eat breakfast with me, there are trees and a small stream ten minutes ride away. We can set a small fire without been seen.” His eyes widened in hope. Cole Griffin clearly wanted the company of a pretty girl … it had been a long time.

Kate hadn’t really eaten for over a full day and her stomach was screaming for food. She nodded.


To Be Continued ...
 

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Loxuru

Graf von Kreuzigung
Chapter 6 – Outside the James’ home, St. Joseph, Missouri – 8am 25th May 1865
With all these conferderates and union trouble, one should forget, there were still nasty Indians around! :doh:

Well Fossy, I got myself all eager for some good old-fashioned Native torture, and you blew them away!
Exactdly what I was thinking! Kate spreadeagled naked in the sun, or tied over an antheap,...:very_hot:
 

Fossy

Tribune
Chapter 7 – A small clump of trees in the Ozark Mountains, Missouri – 9 am 25th May 1865


They soon reached the trees and hitched their horses. Kate set about collecting wood and Griffin unloaded a huge frying pan from his sizable saddle bags.

“Two-day old bacon,” he said with a grin, “Tasty as anything!” The simple thought made Kate’s mouth water.

It took just minutes to get the fire started and Kate watched as her new found companion dropped the bacon into the pan. It began to spit in its own fat and the smell was glorious. Griffin tossed more rashers in and then poured two tin cups of coffee from the small pan he was boiling the stream water in.

Kate had lived a lavish lifestyle in her younger years. Sumptuous breakfasts, and feast-like dinners, waited upon hand and foot. But never had she welcomed the smell of hot bacon and coffee as much as she did right now!

“You need to be careful Miss Kate Clarke,” Griffin said as they ate and drank, “This land is dangerous, and Terrell’s Bushwhackers are hereabouts too.”

Hearing that was music to Kate’s ears, but she gave nothing away, preferring instead to say, in spite of her upbringing, “They can go fuck themselves.”

Cole laughed at her cursing, and then looked her in the eye. “You want to fuck with me?” His tone was filled with hope, his voice dry.

Catherine would have run a mile, but Kate just nodded slowly. “You know you stink Mister Griffin,” she grinned, “But I guess I do owe you.”

“That’s a ‘yes’ then is it my lonesome little mountain girl?”

By way of answer Kate put down her empty plate and almost empty coffee mug and began to pull her shirt over her head, hearing Griffin’s hiss of inhalation as her naked hard-tipped breasts came into view. “Like I said Cole, I owe you big-time, so I will put up with your stink if it pleases you.”

Griffin drew closer, watching intently as she toed off her boots and pulled down her skirt and drawers. Once she was naked, she looked across the fire at him. “How do you want me Mister Griffin, kneeling or laying on my back?”

The man grinned a lascivious and savage smile. “I reckon you might change your mind if n I really told you true,” he said quietly.

Kate eyed him sharply. “I said that I owe you Mister Griffin,” she replied with a small tremor in her voice. “So, tell me what you want.”

He nodded, “Fair enough Kate Clarke,” was all he said as he stood and walked over to his saddlebags. She watched as he took out several coils of rope.

“What … what are you going to do to me, Mister Griffin?” Kate sounded wary now. “You … you do not need to tie me up, I told you I would pleasure you, and I will.”

Cole Griffin chuckled, “But this is the way I like it Miss Kate. Can’t seem to get proper excited over a girl, even one as purty as you, unless I got ‘em tied down. You gotten scars already from a whip Miss, and I’m guessing you been treated rough before. So, you gonna play along or …”

Kate pulled her knees up tight to her chest as she digested his words. She had indeed suffered in this way before but what Griffin was suggesting seemed different to the torments that Sampson and Shepherd had inflicted upon her. She didn’t think that Griffin would really hurt her, and she did owe him her life.

She looked up at him and nodded.


Chapter 8 – One particular tree in the Ozark Mountains, Missouri – 9:40 am 25th May 1865


But minutes later she was very much less sure of her decision. Griffin had tied her standing, naked, with her back to a young tree. Her wrists and ankles had been drawn backwards and secured behind the narrow trunk so that she was bent backwards in a painfully stretched bow. Grinning at her naturally suppressed groan of protest, Griffin reached between her open legs and under her body, and slowly inserted a smoothly, whittled length of wood, similar to the sedile at the whipping post, and greased with bacon fat, into Kate’s twitching anus.

“Ngghhhhhhh …” her words were rendered unintelligible as the phallus was rooted deep into her bowels.

“You keep that nice and tight inside that firm little ass of yours Miss Clarke, no matter what …” he growled, “If n you don’t then this will seem like a little playtime. Understand me girl?”

Kate nodded, swallowing hard. This promised to be much more than she had bargained for, yet she could not deny the excitement that burgeoned in the pit of her stomach, as this tall, strong man had her tied and helpless!

Griffin grinned again. “Good,” he replied, with pleasant humour, as he produced a peeled willow switch that he had managed to find from somewhere around.

Moving the palm of his left hand slowly over her bare, naked pussy … delighted to find her shaved like this, he grinned. Then his arm moved swiftly and the air hissed.

“Aaaaaargh,” Kate groaned as the first thin red line of torment formed across the tender flesh of her belly.

“Wanting to change your mind?” grinned Griffin.

Kate was in a daze, but she shook her head. She did not want to be whipped, but equally she felt the need to pay off her debt.

Griffin chuckled and raised the switch again, “Good girl,” he replied, his tone heavy with lust. “It’s been a long time since I had anything near as good as you to play with!”

“Nnnnngh, nghhhhooooo, arrrgggghhhh” Gasped Kate as the cruel willow switch whipped three times in quick succession across her taut breasts, the third one catching her right nipple and splitting the aurole to draw a thin line of blood.

Kate was panting heavily in this damned stretched position. Her body, supported only by the tight ropes, was already cramping into an agonised contortion.

This lust filled sadist of a man said nothing, but came close with set face and twinkling eyes, bending to take the bleeding nub of flesh into his mouth, licking up her blood as it dripped from the small nipple wound. Without taking his mouth from her flesh Griffin reached down and slipped two fingers into her pussy …

“Mmmm, they went in easy Miss Clarke, maybe you like this more than you are letting on?” His laugh preceded her gasp.

“Oh!” She panted, as his digits sought out her clitoris, exposing the rapidly swelling nub from its fleshy sheath, sending her nerve ends flaring!

Griffin fumbled with his filthy pants and before Kate could grasp what he was about to do, her hips were gripped and she felt him slide into her pussy, filling her, opening her.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Griffin said, through tight lips, as he rammed himself deep into her body, to quickly settle into a steady piston like action, fucking Kate, screwing her hard, each thrust forcing her back against the harsh bark of the small tree’s trunk.

“Uh fuck … uh fuck … uhhhh fuckkkkkk!” Moaned Kate in time with the vigorous motion that was stretching her opening wide. Then she felt it. Building inside her traitorous body … an orgasm. Fuck … she was going to cum!

Griffin grinned into her face and, leaning back, brought both hands up to her welted breasts, stretching and pinching the bruised and swollen nipples until tears flowed unchecked from her eyes.

“You want this Miss Clarke!” It wasn’t a question.

Kate made no reply, none was necessary. The signs were plain enough to Cole Griffin. Flushed cheeks and heavy breasts, a clear musky scent of arousal. Oh yes, she wanted this alright … he was convinced.

“Ohhhh!” She glared wide eyed at her would-be captor as he suddenly withdrew. Taking up and raising the willow once again he stood before her, his erect cock jutting proudly before her gaze.

Kate braced herself and closed her eyes. She expected more searing blows and she was not disappointed. They came hard, cruelly punishing her breasts, flat belly, abdomen, the sensitive tops of her spread thighs. She cried out and sobbed, but still the onslaught continued …

Every few lashes Griffin would pause to look upon her and finger his cock … he had an erection to sustain after all.

Moving back to her, he once again began to finger her pussy. Slowly at first, but he soon built up to head of pace that had the young girl squirming and writhing as far as the bondage ropes would allow. Then, when she was on the brink of her climax, he pulled his digits free and quickly lashed the willow switch across her denuded mound.

“No, no, noooooooo … Cole, please …” She needed what he had begun to offer her. But instead of taking her over the edge, he took another step back, changed his angle and swiped the willow upwards between her open thighs, striking along the full length of her weeping slit. Kate screamed a piercing yell, as the impending orgasm exploded and rushed through her, rinsing out every sinew and nerve ending with orgasmic delights, shaking her naked, trembling body violently against the ropes that held her fast.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk, Cole, ohhhh my GODDDDD! Fuckkkkkk yessss!”

Her orgasm rolled and rolled, refusing to abate as the tightly bound Kate attempted desperately to buck her hips, thrusting her freshly welted body outwards as much as she was able, begging silently for him to fuck her again.

Of course, Griffin obliged and, grinning, he moved in closer and ploughed into her once more, quickly arching and shooting his own thick, white seed deep inside her, as she writhed desperately against his grateful body.

Then it was over. Griffin untied his bound consensual-captive and she fell to the ground, laying face down. He knelt over her and carefully removed the wooden phallus from her ass. She writhed just a little, and even when he replaced the wooden invader with two fingers, all Kate could do was grunt.

He shuffled into position behind and between her, and let his softening cock rest in the crevice between her ass cheeks. Using the grip of both hands he pulled her buttocks apart, opening her and exposing the still open tight little hole.

Kate shuddered but was too exhausted to protest.

He panted as he lifted her by the hips and burrowed his face into the spread cheeks, sealing his mouth around her ass-hole as he began to suck and lick at her. As he did this, he slowly pulled upwards until she was on her knees and elbows, her delicious curves pushed provocatively outwards.

“Gotta do this quick, while I still have anything left …” He muttered to himself as he centred his semi-hard cock on the twitching hole, and rotating his hips he slowly but very surely drilled into her.

“Ohhhhh fuck, fuckkkkkkk you will tear me, stopppp!” Kate had woken up, but it was too late. Inch by inch he twisted himself deeper into her bowels, spiralling his thrust, corkscrewing her ass, drilling deeper into her.

Then he pulled out so that he could gaze upon and enjoy the swollen aperture that was now, much to his delight, fully opened. With another deep sigh to complement her even deeper groan, he slowly pushed back in and began to fuck Kate’s peachy ass with a steady rhythm.

He was free to do with her as he pleased, and so he reamed her bowels without reservation until he came hard for a second time, pulling her ass tightly to his groin, making sure that she took all he had left to give!

Breathing hard, Griffin pushed his hand under Kate’s body to support her and slowed his thrusts, riding her down from his high, until they lay in a heap on the dusty ground and he was able to gently disengage from her.

She lay, eyes closed, unable to move until she heard his voice and turned her head to stare at his boots.

“Here take this Kate,” he kneeled and offered her a whisky shot from the same small tin cup they had drunk the coffee from.

Kate shrugged, pulled herself with difficulty to a seated position and took the cup, lifting it to her lips, managing to supress a groan as the action caused her split nipple to rub against her arm.

He placed a blanket around her shoulders, and she smiled at him.

“What now Miss Clarke?” Griffin asked as he poured her another measure of whisky.

She smiled, “Now Cole Griffin, I thank you very much for breakfast, get myself washed in the stream and dressed and then I head on out to continue my journey.”

He nodded. “Which is to where, Kate Clarke … let me accompany you?”

She crawled over to where he sat and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Thank you, Cole,” she said, “But what I am doing I will do alone … just promise me one thing …”

He nodded and looked earnestly at her, “What’s that Miss Clarke?”

“Before you leave this place make sure you take a bath in the stream!”


To Be Continued ...
 

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