In Days of Olde

The forest was silent, save for the soft noises of small animals going about their business, and the occasional bird song. Two sets of eyes peered from the underbrush near the small settlement, waiting for the one person they had come to see, although she had no idea that anyone was watching her. They had been watching her for several months now, ever since they had first caught a glimpse of her by the river. She was the loveliest thing they had ever seen, and they had watched for her every day since that time. Their quiet patience was finally rewarded, as she stepped out of her small log home, closing the door behind her. She looked about, smiling in pleasure at the beauty of the day, completely unaware of what that smile did to the two silent watchers. Walking lightly down the path that led to the forest, her basket on her arm, she greeted her neighbors, then stepped into the cool green depths waiting for her, never knowing she was silently shadowed as she moved along.

She moved through the forest almost as lightly as they did themselves, very sure of herself in the rich environment. They knew she loved nature and the outdoors as much as they themselves did, for she never missed an opportunity to be out of the house. They knew that she lived alone, and that she had lost her family the year before to influenza. They even knew her name was Charity, for they had heard her neighbors call to her at times as she passed. They knew that she had just passed her nineteenth birthday, for they seen the other settlers gather at her home with well-wishes on that day. That night, they had left a bouquet on her doorstep, the blond one keeping watch as the dark one laid it gently on her doorstep and knocked, then slipped away to join his companion. They would never forget the sweet smile that had lit her face when she had opened the door and spied the flowers there.

That had been two weeks ago, and now, life went on as usual for the young woman. Today she was going into the forest to gather some herbs for medicinal purposes as well as for cooking. Her mother had taught her the properties of many of the plants that grew in the woods, and the knowledge had been very useful on a number of occasions. She would have to go a bit further today to find the sorrel and thyme that she was seeking, but she had no fear. There had been no raids or attacks in months on any settlements, and Charity felt safe beneath the tall trees. She paused sometimes, just to take in her surroundings, stopping to peek at a hidden wildflower, or taste a berry on a bush. Although she was lonely sometimes, for the most part, she felt quite content. Beside a small tributary of the river, she paused to rest, seating herself beside a fallen log, and leaning back against it, watching the water ripple by.

Her two unseen shadows paused as well, their eyes riveted on the beauty beside the river. They meant her no harm whatsoever; they only wished to watch her and protect her, should she need it. They looked at one another and smiled. Two better friends and companions could be found nowhere. The two young men had been together all their lives, practically. They had lived in one of the settlements further upriver when they were only small boys of four and five. The dark one was the elder of the two, and the blond one followed him willingly, and always had. Their settlement had been attacked by a hostile raiding party, and almost all had been killed. The children and younger women had been taken, but these two boys had been playing in a cave they'd found by the river, and when all the commotion started, they had been frightened, and had stayed there, until all was quiet. When they went back to the village, they found it burning, and many dead bodies lying about. After they had finished weeping, they set off into the forest, after packing some provisions, to try to find help. They had not gone far, when they were found by some friendly Indians, who took them in, and adopted them. Since that time, they had lived with the tribe learning their ways and language, and practically forgetting the life they had come from. Their names from before were long forgotten as well, and the dark one had become Raven's Call, while the blond was known as Hawk's Flight.

They were handsome young men. Both wore their long hair in a single braid down their bare, tanned backs. Raven had eyes that matched his ebony hair, and he was slender yet muscular, his skin sporting a few tribal tattoos. Hawk had hazel eyes that sparkled with fun, and he wore hoops in his ears. His build was quite similar to his friend's, but he was a bit shorter. Both were slightly older than Charity, Raven being twenty-one, and the younger a year behind. They were clad only in deerskin loincloths and moccasins, and they looked magnificent. As always, the dark one carried his bow and arrows, and the blond his hunting knife. They were never without their weapons, just in case. The two were not only the best of friends, and blood brothers in fact, but also occasionally lovers. They enjoyed female flesh as well as the next man, but had discovered the joys of experiencing male flesh as well. To them, it was simply another way of expressing the deep love that they felt. Many men in their tribe were of the same opinion, and it was not frowned upon in the least.

Now, as they watched, Charity had become so relaxed as she rested, that the rippling water had lulled her into a doze. Her coppery hair spread about her head, falling over the simple white blouse that she wore, and her hands were clasped loosely in her lap, lying on the rough brown fabric of her skirt. Her pale skin took on a creamy hue in the rays of sunlight that snuck through the branches overhead, and her lips parted softly in a sigh. Her emerald eyes, with their dark lashes, remained closed, even when a twig snapped nearby, but the other two heads whipped up, instantly alert for trouble. When nothing happened for several moments, they began to relax, then suddenly several fierce looking warriors came into view. They stood, looking down on the sleeping girl for several moments, then one of them stepped forward quietly and knelt, lifting a lock of her hair, and grinning at the others. He said something in a low voice to the other four that caused a chuckle to pass through the group. Charity stirred slightly, then her eyes fluttered open, to behold the leering face above her. Eyes wide, her hand flew up to her lips, as she gasped. The men laughed again, eyeing her hungrily. In the underbrush, the two gripped their weapons tightly, but knew they could not hope to rescue the girl at the moment. There were too many of the men, and the girl was liable to be hurt if they tried.

The warrior kneeling beside the frightened girl smoothed his fingers through her hair up to her scalp, causing her face to turn white. He seemed to be admiring the thickness and color of her hair, but then he removed his hand from her head and stared down at her for several moments without moving. Charity was trembling from head to toe, as she waited to see what he and his companions would do to her. She had heard so many stories, and none of them were pretty. She felt as if his cold eyes were piercing her all the way to her bare skin. He tilted his head and then his hands snaked out and ripped her blouse in two, leaving her with only her cotton camisole covering her. Roughly he grabbed her breasts, and began massaging them, running his thumbs over her nipples savagely. Charity cried out in pain, but he slammed his mouth against hers to stifle her cry, working to get his hands beneath the cloth that covered her. She struggled, but was no match for him. He had her head pressed back against the log, so that she couldn't move her mouth from his, and his hands pressed her back against the wood as well. She felt as if she couldn't breathe beneath his weight. He lifted his mouth at last, still pawing at the cloth, and as she gasped weakly for air, he then proceeded to rip the camisole in half as well, exposing her bare breasts for all to see. Hungry eyes feasted on the pale globes, with their rose colored nipples and slightly darker aureoles.

The man made a satisfied grunting sound, grabbing a breast again, and massaging. When Charity opened her mouth to scream, he clapped his palm against her lips, silencing her again. He gave a nod to one of the others, who stepped over, bringing with him a wide strip of supple hide. He bent over the girl and whipped it into her mouth as soon as the other removed his hand. Now she could scream herself hoarse, and no one would hear her. Leering at her, her tormentor moved and she saw that he was going to take her breast in his mouth. She screamed against the gag, and began to thrash, but it was hopeless. In moments, his lips closed over her right breast and he began to suck on it, his tongue working over her now hardened nipple. His hands went to her hips to still her movements, as he enjoyed the taste of her supple skin. He nipped her, then moved to the other tempting treat, sucking and licking it thoroughly as well. She was moaning now, tears streaming down her face, which he proceeded to lick off as well, when he had finished with her breasts.

He spoke to the others, and the helpless girl could only lie there, her back rubbed raw against the log, as each warrior took his turn playing with her breasts. They caressed and kissed, licked and sucked, sometimes one at a time, sometimes two together, until they finally seemed to get their fill. In the underbrush, the two young men clutched their weapons in anger and frustration, and a slight bit of shame, for despite their devotion to the young woman, they both had rock-hard erections from the sight of the other men enjoying her sweet charms. Speaking sharply to the others, the first man knelt over her again, and proceeded to torture her one last time, taking each breast in his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth clamping on the sensitive nipples until she cried out again. When he removed his mouth, he reached out and jerked her to her feet, holding her steady, then at a motion from his head again, one of the others came over and yanked her skirt down to her ankles and she was lifted out of it. She began to kick her legs violently, but the huge man holding her arms shook her like a rag doll until she stopped. Now she was clad only in her petticoat and bloomers, and her shoes and stockings. All these things were quickly discarded as well, and she was left, held up in the air as naked as the day she was born, with a gag in her mouth, and her eyes bright with unshed tears.

The warrior set her on her feet, grabbing her wrists and holding them out before her, to be bound with a deerskin tie. He tested the bonds to make certain they were tight enough, then slung his captive up over his shoulder, smacking her bottom sharply when she attempted to struggle again. The others gathered up her clothing and basket, and took care to smooth over the grass so that in moments, there was no trace that Charity or anyone else had been there. Now the silent shadows followed the girl and her captors, hoping they might be able to rescue her later that night, when the men stopped to make camp. It would not be easy, but they were determined to at least try. Her fate would not be pleasant, should she remain with her captors. Their tribe was very vicious and treated their women quite badly, and any captives even worse. They would take her virginity and use her until they tired of her body, then they would sell her to another tribe or in a worst case scenario, offer her as a sacrifice to the gods.

As for Charity, she could scarcely believe what had happened. The day had started out so lovely, and now she was a captive, to be used and tormented in who knew what ways? She was seated on the warrior's horse, in front of him, naked and with her legs spread on either side of the horse, in a most unladylike fashion. The man kept running his free hand all over her body, teasing her breasts, sliding over her throat, and moving down her stomach to her pelvic bone. The movement of the horse's body between her spread thighs felt strange and caused a tingling in her body that she wasn't sure how to deal with. It made it difficult for her to think clearly, which she needed to do if she was going to escape, before they did anything worse to her. If only someone knew where she was being taken, and could help her. She knew that had to be an impossible thought, but she couldn't help hoping anyway. Maybe someone had chanced along and had seen what was going on, but knew they would never be able to defeat these fierce men, so they had gone to get help. Even now, perhaps they were being trailed. Even as she thought this, she knew just how unlikely the scenario was. She was shaken from her thoughts momentarily, when the warrior's finger slid between her open legs and the horse's body, and moved into her most intimate place. She gasped at his boldness and tried to squirm away, but he simply pushed another finger in to join the first, and then let the motion of the horse do the rest. Charity felt moisture flood her nether lips, as a new sensation swept through her. She felt as if she were on the brink of a discovery of some sort, but she wasn't certain what, then suddenly he withdrew his hand and she heard him slurping on his fingers.

Stalking Panther could scarcely believe his luck when he and his men had come across the treasure he now had sitting before him on his mount. Completely alone, and breathtaking, there she lay, as if the Gods themselves were pleased with the raid he and the others had made. If he was any judge of women, and he was, this one was pure and untouched, judging by the way she tried to squirm away from his advances. How he loved tasting her sun-warmed skin, and the salt of her tears. Her fear was delicious to him, and made any conquest all the sweeter, in his opinion. He intended to terrify his pretty prey as much as he could before taking her innocence. He felt his arousal grow at the thoughts of what he could do with such a body. He would allow all the men at camp to molest her thoroughly, without taking her virginity. From the taste and smell of things, she was easily aroused, and that would make it all the better, for with her being unexperienced, she wouldn't know what to make of the feelings that swept her, and she wouldn't be able to resist, try as she might. He ground his cock into her bare bottom, and slid his hand between her thighs again, wanting another taste of the nectar that pooled between her soft nether lips. He felt a tiny sob shake her as he plundered her with his fingers, careful not to dig too deep. He wanted to make her a woman with his cock, not his fingers. He teased her clit, feeling her shudder, but not letting her reach the climax that she didn't even know she needed.

Meanwhile, the two shadows moved along behind the horses, ever vigilant. They watched as the leader molested their Charity, and again, felt the shame of their incredible lust for her, mixed with anger at her terror. They both knew if they could find a way, all these warriors would be dead for ever laying a finger on the innocent girl. For now, all they could do was move silently, following the men. They knew that these few would stop somewhere before nightfall, probably not planning on traveling to their home until the following day. They hoped they might get a chance that night to rescue the maiden, as it would be their best opportunity. Once these men joined their tribe, there would be far too many people around for them to be able to save her, at least while she was still untouched and unbroken. They tried not to let their anger get the best of them, knowing if they did, mistakes could happen, and that could mean all hope of rescuing their lady would be gone. Charity's soft moans and sobs pierced their hearts, but they steeled themselves against emotion.

Charity was miserable from the ride and from the play of the warrior's hands over her tender skin. Her thighs were chafed and she ached all over, not being used to riding a horse, and particularly not astride. Her inner thighs felt sticky from sweat and the flood of moisture that his fingers had continued to force from her. He had gone so far at one point as to rub some of the wetness into her nipples, and now they felt a bit stiff and sticky as well. The man seemed to take great pride in not touching her for awhile, and then just as she was beginning to hope he had stopped completely, he would start again, caressing her breasts, pinching and tweaking her nipples, and then thrusting his fingers into her. Each time, it seemed to feel less invasive to her, and caused more of a feeling of expectancy and shivers of anticipation, but for what, she couldn't tell. At last, they seemed to be slowing, and she looked up with blurry eyes, to see them moving into a small clearing. With a final thrust of his fingers, the Indian pulled his horse up short, and waited for another brave to come over to him. He handed her down to the other man, who held her tightly against his body, grinding his crotch against her bottom and cupping her breasts from behind. The warrior leapt down and took charge of her once again, pulling her along behind him, and binding her to a tree. He pulled her arms around the tree, tying her wrists behind the trunk, then did the same with her ankles, so that only the tree was holding her up, and she was spread open.

Stepping back, Panther admired his captive again. Her russet hair was a tangled mass, falling over her pale face and creamy shoulders, and her breasts were slightly red from all the caresses he had bestowed. She smelled of feminine arousal and fear, and he rubbed his crotch anxiously, then laughed at the new flash of fear that brightened her eyes. In his own tongue, he spoke to her, knowing she could not understand, and that it would make her more fearful yet. His voice low and husky, he said "Oh, little Flower, how you will unfold for me, and for my men. You shall know many men in the most delightful ways...at least for us. For you, they might not be so delightful..." He chuckled again, then leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, nibbling her skin softly. "I cannot wait to thrust into you, to feel you tighten around me, to spill my seed deep inside you...." Abruptly, he moved away from her, to help the others set up camp, leaving her shivering again.

Charity had no idea what he had said to her, but she knew it couldn't be to her benefit. She tried to struggle against her bonds, but they were too tight, and she was too weary. None of them were paying any attention to her for the moment, but she knew that couldn't last. She let her head droop, and fell into a semi-doze, held up by the rough tree bark. Dimly, she heard the sounds of movement around her and smelled the smoke of a fire, and then food cooking. Her stomach growled, and she realized she was starving. Night was falling quickly, and the cool air touched her bare skin, making her shiver even more. She hurt all over, and her arms and legs had fallen asleep from the position they were in. She couldn't seem to lift her head, even when she heard footsteps coming towards her and then stopping. Her bonds were loosened, and she fell to the ground with a jar, making the men laugh cruelly. The warrior led her over to the bushes, indicating she could relieve herself, and watched as she did so, enjoying her discomfort. She was brought over to the fire and fed a bit and given a drink. As soon as she had finished, the warrior pulled her to her feet and led her to another set of trees. There, she saw a piece of cloth had been stretched between the trees, making a hammock of sorts.

Charity was shoved back onto the hammock and her wrists were bound above her head, one to each tree, and her ankles were bound the same way. Once again, she was spread apart, and her fear grew. They began to circle about her, chanting, and then one brave moved forward as the others continued to circle. He opened a clay pot and took out a thick substance, and began to slowly rub it onto her body, over her breasts, down her belly and over her thighs. He smeared it onto her throat and over her lips, and when a bit slid into her mouth, she realized it was honey. She felt his fingers slathering the sticky substance between her thighs, and then they all stopped chanting and looked down at her. Then, as if they were one entity, all the men leaned over, and began to lap the honey from her body, hungrily. Mouths and tongues moved over her throat, her breasts and downward. One was nestled between her thighs, sucking there. She struggled against them, and screamed into the night, and as she did so, they only seemed to become more aggressive.