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Message-ID: <63500asstr$1440756602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} A Hard Life
Lines: 271
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 2015 06:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


  

 
  
A Hard Life
 
    Wiping the sweat from my brow  as I pause, the hoe leaning against my 
chest as I wipe my sweaty calloused  hands on my dress.  The faded dress damp 
and dirty from my chores.   Almost worn through in spots and the hem ragged 
with loose threads.   Leaning on the handle of the tool, looking down at 
the rows of vegetables and  the endless rows of weeds between.  Well the 
choices are weeds or rocks,  wishing I might save the weeds and have them saved 
for the coming winter as  something edible.  
    Looking to the west and the  declining sun and then back to the out of 
control garden.  At least my  man is not around to beat me and yell at me 
for being so stupid and  lazy.  Truth of the matter, he is the stupid one.  No 
schooling and  not much of a farmer either it seems.  My garden doing 
better than his  fields.  
    Thinking back on how I came to  this place, not even sure where this 
place is.  The ride to the trading  post such a travail, but nothing compared 
to the trip to this place.   Talk of a woman being out her element.  A 
school marm is what I was  suppose to be.  Going to explore and begin an exciting 
life in the  west.  Now here I am, the woman of some man I don't really 
even know or  want to know.  Sold to him by the man in the trading post.   
Indentured to this man because I had not the money to pay my way further. I  
think there is some towns or farms to the south; but I really don't  know.  The 
few riders I have seen in the past year and a half, didn't  have much to 
offer in way of words.  And the cuffs on my face and the  beating after the 
riders left, have taught me not to ask questions.  To  serve a meal and to 
clean up afterwards and to service my man after he is done  drinking with these 
visitors.
    There are no bonds holding me  to this farm other than I have no place 
to go or way to get there.  I  suspect women are few and far between in this 
region.  I only saw one  since I have been here and she looked haggard and 
worn out.  Most likely  the way I will in a few years.  The lack of women is 
most likely why my  man bought an older woman like me and one lacking in 
any homey skills.   
Brushing my damp hair back  again from my face and bending my aching back 
to the weeds.  Then hearing  the whinnying of a horse and looking up seeing 
three braves riding from a  path in the copse of cottonwoods far below the 
field.  Seeing them  heading directly to where I am standing, as I drop the 
hoe and lifting my  skirts hurry up the slight slope to the sod house.  
Turning to look and  seeing them gaining on me, spreading out as they come. I 
swerve to the left  and into a small wooded area.  Quickly fleeing into the 
close brush   and trees.  Hoping to lose them, fleeing thoughtlessly away from 
the  house.  The house and the gun inside.  Hearing the yells of triumph  and 
laughter as the braves shout back and forth to each other.  My flight  not 
even a zigzag, but a straight line.  The brush tearing at my  dress.  Pieces 
of light blue hanging from bushes, and the trampled ground  an easy track.
    The root cellar just the other  side of the woods, as I swing back in a 
looping circle to the house. My  chest burning for oxygen as I run, fear 
pushing me onward.  Not hearing a  sound behind me; but also not familiar with 
the stealth with which these  braves can move.  Bursting from the deeper 
brush and not seeing  anyone, I lift the cover to the root cellar.  The 
branches  and brambles staying in place as I lift and climb down quickly.  The  
earthen smell so strong from the vegetables stored there.
    Crouching down in a  corner, my body shaking as I try to listen to the 
sounds above me.   The sudden glare of the setting sun blinding me as the 
door is pulled  upwards.  The silhouettes black images as I shield  my eyes.  
The agile young men jumping down and quickly holding my arms,  pulling me to 
my feet and dragging me up the ladder.  Feeling the hard  grip of their 
fingers as they stand in a circle and talk rapidly in their  native language.  
Tears sliding down my grimed cheeks as I stand  quivering with fear.  The 
men almost naked, just a loin cloth girded  around their bodies.  Their chests 
hairless as I look at them, one to the  other.  These are young braves, men 
yes, but young.
    One of them taking a length of  rope and binding my wrists together in 
front of me.  Another loping off  to their ponies tied a short distance 
away. Riding the perimeter of the  cleared land, I assume looking for tracks. 
The third going to the cabin  and coming back with some clothing and a burlap 
bag filled with  foodstuffs.  Then they jumped from the ground to their 
ponies and started  off to the north.  The taut rope held by one pulling me in a 
half walk  half run behind them.  A couple of hours of hard walking, with 
my calves  aching, my knees and body bruised from the falls onto the hard 
ground when I  did not keep up the pace or lost my footing.  At least they did 
not drag  me on the ground.
    Trying to keep my mind blank,  not to think on the near future.  Not to 
think on the stories I have  heard of these savages.  Just looking down at 
my footing and half running  behind the ponies.  My dress stuck to my body 
from the sweat of the hot  late afternoon trek.  Lips dry as I finally sink 
to the ground, grateful  for a rest.  The ponies tied to a picket line 
between two saplings.   The braves not paying attention to me as they make camp 
for the night.  A  water bag, offered to my lips, as lie on the soft pine 
needles covering the  ground.  Greedily sipping as the bag is turned up and the 
precious water  wets my lips and tongue, swallowing and choking as the brave 
laughs at the  white woman.
    The offer of some dried meat  and paste declined with a shake of my 
head.  Not knowing a word of their  language or any signs, I sit watching them 
as they enjoy their meal and  companionship.  Wondering if they will take me 
to the trading post or a  trading post to be sold to another white man, or 
if they will take me to their  camp.  The options seems few and neither one 
I would choose.  As bad  as my man is, at least I know what to expect.  And 
with him trapping for  lengths of time, I have much freedom.
    Finally the braves rolling out  their blankets on the ground and 
preparing for sleep.  The braves so  similar in build and looks.  Young, medium 
height and strong lean  bodies.  Dark hair and eyes, their skins glistening 
with animal oil and  smelling of it also.  One finally lithely standing up and 
coming over to  me, taking the loose length of rope and pulling me to a 
nearby tree.   Undoing my wrists and pulling them around the tree and retying 
them.   Very little slack as I kneel uncomfortable, my face resting against 
the rough  bark.  My head turned to watch the braves as best I can.  Not  
thinking that it will be comfortable sleeping in this position.
    Finally at some point in spite  of the position, falling into a 
restless sleep.  My wrists numb from the  tight rope digging cruelly into the skin. 
 Waking suddenly and feeling a  hand touching my leg.  Lifting me onto my 
knees, and then pressing my  legs apart.  My skirt lifted up and thrown over 
my head.  Crying out  softly, protesting in a language that he doesn't 
understand.  Fingers  probing between my thighs, squeezing my pubes.  A finger 
dryly pushing  into my opening.  My body jerking at the intrusion. my head and 
shoulder  butting against the bole of the tree as I try to move away from 
the intruding  finger.  Tears of frustration and humiliation and fear 
coursing down my  cheeks as the finger continues to probe my vagina.  Grunting as 
another  is added.  And then hearing him spitting.   His wet penis,  engorged 
with blood pushing at the lips of my vagina as his fingers slide  out.  
Then with a push, his cock entering the yielding walls.   Pushing into my 
semidry tunnel.  His grunts loud in the darkness as he  fucks my cunt.
    A flash behind me and a small  fire lights the campsite.  The other 
braves looking on and offering words  of encouragement I think.  His thrusts 
beating my body into the trunk of  the tree, as my arms grasp weakly.  The 
rough bark, scratching my face  and the skin under my think dress.  Feeling the 
already weakened material  ripping as it catches on a piece of bark.  My 
left shoulder and breast  now directly being abraded by the wood.  A extra 
loud grunt and thrust  letting me know that this brave is spewing his seed into 
my womb.  A few  more jerks and then his cock being wiped on my ass cheeks 
and he is  done.  Thankfully my body has now responded to the attack and 
juices are  being released as the second one roughly kneels and fucks me from  
behind.  His cock easily slipping into the opening, lubed by my oil and  the 
spunk from the first brave.  His hands holding me firmly and quickly  he 
spill his seed in a rush of pumps.  The third lasting longer; but I  think 
they are not well versed in the arts of love or sex, maybe even virgin  to a 
woman's body.  
    As the third one finishes I  lay against the tree trunk, feeling the 
seed flowing down my pussy lips and  thighs.  Shaking as I brace on the tree, 
kneeling like an animal, waiting  to be fucked.  Wondering if that is all or 
if they will have their youth  to let them take me again.  But finally 
hearing them settle back on their  blankets.  The small fire quickly burning to 
smothering smokeless  ambers.  Not able to sleep now as I know now that I 
wouldn't escape rape,  didn't escape being raped and used by them.  Wondering 
if this will be my  fate, a captive brought to their camp and used as a 
whore to the men and slave  to the women.  I have heard of that, or of one of 
them taking a white  woman for a wife.  The option to be turned into a whore 
for white men at  some trading post, or to be bought again by a white man to 
be his slave and  whore somewhere deep in the wilds.
    As the cum oozes from my used  cunt, another pressing need comes to the 
fore.  I need to relieve  myself.  Trying not to think on this need; but it 
now filling my  mind.  Working with my knees, pushing the front of skirt 
closer to the  trunk of the tree and then like an animal in the forest 
spreading my legs and  peeing on the ground beneath me.  Feeling the splatter of my 
piss on my  thighs and lower legs as it seeps into the needles under me.  
The smell  of urine strong in the night air.  Trying not to fall asleep in my 
own  piss, but the hard day and walk, having exhausted me, I lay down as 
best I can  on my own piss.  Feeling my dress damp from the piss and cum under 
 me.  
    Waking to the morning birds,  calling to one another.  My wrists 
swollen around the rope.  The  pain quickly bringing me awake.  One brave stirring 
as best I can see the  others still sleeping in the early dawn light.  Not 
expecting anything  more as the brave notices me awake and motions for me to 
kneel.  His cock  already hard as he pushes my legs apart.  Feeling the 
dried cum holding  my lips closed for a moment and then again the dress thrown 
up on my back and  a rivulet of spit sliding down my ass crack and over my 
swollen pussy  lips.  His wet cock pushing again, my lips apart.  The 
foreskin  pulled back as the mushroom head pushes and then pushes deeper into my  
pussy.  Moaning as he fucks into my white woman pussy.  His grunt of  
satisfaction and his laughter as he hears my moans.  Most likely thinking  that he 
is satisfying me with his organ; but in reality, the moans are caused  by 
the dull pain of my wrists.  Not even paying attention to the brave as  he 
fucks me doggie style.  Not realizing that my body has come to my aid  and 
quickly is oiling my tunnel.  The semi-dry strokes now sliding easily  into my 
vagina.  The walls opening and closing on his cock.  A loud  grunt and I feel 
his body jerking, emptying another load of seed into my body,  coating my 
walls.
    Kneeling awake as the minutes  pass by, and finally the other braves 
wake up and before even pissing taking a  quick release in my body.  Then 
pissing on the leaves.  Breaking  their fast with the same dried meat and paste 
as the previous night.  And  one feeding me the nasty meat and paste.  
Wanting to throw it up  immediately; but also knowing I would need it for 
strength today.  Glad  that I can't ask them exactly what it is; but finally 
washing it down with  gulps of water from the skin.  
    Trying to get the braves  attention and sympathy as I indicate my 
swollen wrists.  His fingers  touching them and then shaking his head and leaving 
me with no relief to the  sore limbs.
    The loud sound of a shot and  piece of bark flying from a tree near one 
of the braves, has them turn and  look in the direction and then another 
shot, sending them to their ponies and  quickly as they lay low on their 
backs, away across the clearing.  Then a  third shot echoing in the early morning 
air.  Minutes later the sound of  a horses and the creak of leather as I 
hear someone step down to the  ground.  Then I hear the braying of a mule as 
the steps come  closer.  Wishing I might see who is behind me, who my savior 
is.   But the man approaching from the other side is just out of my line of  
vision.
    His smell or stench already  announcing that he is a trapper or 
mountain man.  "Help me.   Please.  Please."  My words soft in the stillness of the 
 morning.  Not sure who it is; but grateful that the braves are  gone.  
Trying to shift on my knees and cover my bare ass and legs.   The dress not 
sliding down my back; but laying bunched on up from where it was  thrown.
    The man stopping behind me, it  so obvious what has happened, as I feel 
the scum from the braves, oozing from  my sloppy pussy lips.  Hearing the 
man shifting and then crying out in  frustration as I feel his cock pushing 
against my pussy lips.  The  leather and furs of his clothing stinking as he 
pushes his cock quickly into  my cunt.  Hard strokes as he fucks the still 
partially lubed opening,  then feeling him shift and pull out of my pussy as 
he spits noisily on my ass  crack.  The saliva pooling at my ring and then 
forces into my ass as he  pushes his cock to the opening.   Screaming in pain 
and shock as I  feel his cock pushing into my ass.  Forcing the small 
opening wide to  accommodate his cock.  Hearing him sighing as he fucks deeper 
and deeper  into my ass and then feeling him jerks after long minutes.  
Cussing as I  feel his cum shoot into my bowels, and then him hurriedly shoving it 
into my  pussy again.  His cum shooting deep in my cunt.  Feeling him press 
 against my ass and thighs with each expulsion of his seed.  Then feeling  
him brush against my thighs as he stands and walks around to the tree trunk  
where I am tied.  His face blocked from my view as he reaches with  gnarled 
fingers and pulls my head to his still half hard cock.  "Clean it  missy."  
His hips pushing it against my lips.  My mouth opening and  feeling the 
slimy organ pushing into my mouth.  Tongue sucking on his  cock and licking it 
clean, tasting more of his cum as he milked it slowly from  his cock with 
his hand.
    "Thank you missy."  The  man reaching down and cutting the rope in two. 
 "I let you food and water  and some salve for your wrists and a knife.  
Follow back south and you  will find your home."  Laying limply trying to 
massage my wrists as look  up, just seeing the back of the mountain man on his 
horse and a pair of pack  mules trailing behind.  Weakly lifting up and 
shouting a "thank  you."  A wave of his hand acknowledging he heard.
     Then as I rub the salve on my  wrists, feeling the numbness turning to 
a hard stabbing pain as the blood flow  resumes, I wonder why I thanked 
him.  He fucked me worse then the  braves.  Using all three of my holes.  Well 
at least none were  virgin.  My man having taken my ass long ago.  My cunt 
not even  virgin when he took it for the first time, and my mouth far from  
virgin.
    Gathering up the few supplies  that are left me forming a make shift 
pack with an old burlap sack and walking  to a small creek and washing the 
scum of the braves and the man from my  body.  My wrists aching and still 
swollen as I put more salve on  them.  And finally after filling the water bag, 
starting my walk back to  the cabin.  The path not that difficult to follow 
as I only walked two  hours to get to this point.
    After a having back tracked, I  can see the sod house in the distance, 
my legs aching and weary; but reaching  my "home" before evening sunset.  
Less then a day away from this house,  this home.  Walking into the door and 
stirring the embers and starting a  fire.  Heating buckets of water and 
sitting in a wooden tub, trying to  rub the horror of my kidnapping from my body. 
 Finally standing up and  pouring buckets of water to rinse myself clean 
and stepping out into the floor  of the almost dark cabin.  My body red from 
the hard scrubbing.   Finding another faded and threadbare dress and pulling 
it over my body.   Then making myself a meal.  
    My chores now slower, as I  spend more time looking out into the 
distance.  Every sound, every  movement causing me to jerk in fear.  The gun and a 
knife never far from  my side as I work the garden and haul water from the 
stream.   
Worse from that day is how my  dresses have become tighter against my belly 
as the weeks have turned into  over a month since the ordeal.  I can't see 
the change; but I can feel  it.  The morning the worse as I wake up 
nauseous, my insides roiling with  what little if anything I had the night before.
    Each day I wish for a visitor  passing through, one who might tell me 
where there is civilization and I  might get away from here.  My man will be 
back soon.  An again he  will rape and beat me.  But now the punches and 
kicks can do more then  just hurt me.  They can hurt the baby I am carrying.  
Not his  baby, that I am sure.  But the baby of one of those braves or the  
mountain man.  Stupid man that he is, he will never figure out that the  baby 
isn't his, he can't even read or count time. 
    I must find away to escape  from this place and man. A haven of safety 
for me and my  baby..
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