Savage Beauty Ch 01

Note: This story is the first chapter of a series. To set the scene for subsequent chapters, I've taken several liberties, for which I apologize in advance. I struggled with the question of category for some time before deciding on non-consent/reluctance (as opposed to non-erotic), as I felt it necessary to warn potential readers of the rape scene contained in these pages. I do say rape, not non-consent, and I've made an honest effort to keep it as realistic as possible. I chose not to eroticize it as a matter of conscience.

I also send a thousand thanks to my editor, Heather, whose feedback and suggestions have proven invaluable. Carmen says thanks for the underwear.

***

Carmen cursed the young colt under her breath as she picked herself up from the ground for the third time that day. She was glad her uncle wasn't here to see it this time. He'd given her the horse when she'd arrived to live with them almost a fortnight ago, and Blaze had proven to be the most obstinate animal she'd known in her nineteen years. She could already feel a sizable bruise forming on her left hip from her latest fall, but she could tell that at least nothing was broken. Before he could bolt off again, she grabbed the reins and gingerly remounted.

She began to absentmindedly pick bits of brush from her glossy black hair as she tried to gain her bearings. The petite girl had never topped 5'1" and usually required the assistance of the tree stump outside of the corral to mount, much to the amusement of the hired hands. Awkward as it may have seemed, Blaze had never seemed to mind Carmen mounting him, but that appeared to be the extent of his willingness to compromise. He didn't take direction well and loved nothing more than to fly across the ground, regarding the bit in his mouth as little more than a minor irritation.

Drinking deeply from a canteen she found in the saddlebags, the girl realized she was lost. "No reason to panic. I've got at least an hour until sunset. Okay. Blaze knows the area better than I do. Give him his head; chances are he'll either lead us to water or back to the ranch. He's got to be getting thirsty. If he can find the river, I can find my way back from there," she thought.

Somewhat comforted by her inner dialogue, she loosened the reins and wrapped the ends around the pommel, giving the horse room to turn where he would. The girl lifted her chocolate brown eyes skyward and whispered a quick prayer to the Virgin before lightly tapping the colt's cinnamon flanks with her heels. Almost at once, Blaze made a wide arc and headed southwest. Sensing no resistance, he soon broke into a full gallop. Leaning forward in the saddle, she gave in to the freedom of simply letting go. Mile after mile, the sun slowly sank lower in the sky, and the landscape became more heavily wooded.

When it was too dark to see her still-unfamiliar surroundings, Carmen took up the reins and slowed her mount to a walk, looking for a place to rest. The sun had set about an hour ago, and she just wanted out of the saddle. Her inner thighs had begun to ache, and despite his apparent stamina, she knew Blaze had to be close to exhaustion. Nearing a small stand of trees a few minutes later, she heard a welcome sound in the distance. Gulls, she thought. There must be water nearby.

Steering the horse in the general direction of the birds' cries, she felt the day's tension slowly ebb. She'd traveled less than half a mile when she finally spotted the riverbank. Blaze nickered softly and tossed his head. As they approached the riverbank, the young colt became increasingly agitated and more difficult to control. Assuming it was merely because he was thirsty and impatient, Carmen thought nothing of it and focused on finding a place to camp for the night. She was caught completely off guard by the loud report of a rifle a moment later. Blaze reared up immediately. She tried shifting her weight forward to keep her balance, but it was too late. Already spooked, the colt sidestepped once and began bucking. Another shot rang out, and she was falling.

***

How long had she been here? Five minutes? An hour? She opened her eyes to the most brilliant night sky she'd seen since leaving Galveston. There were stars beyond numbering but not much by way of light. The sliver of moon didn't illuminate much, but she knew without looking that Blaze was nowhere near. She could barely hear him off in the distance, and it sounded like he was still galloping. She had no chance of catching him tonight, if ever. There were stones digging into the tender flesh of her ribs and she could feel an egg-sized knot on the back of her head. Tensing and relaxing her muscles, she detected no major injuries. Her sense of relief was short-lived as she heard the unmistakable crunch of boots coming toward her. Her vision blurred slightly as she struggled to sit.

"Well, well. You might have lost us the horse, but she's probably worth a hell of a lot more than that," said a male voice.

Another, much deeper in pitch, mumbled a terse response that was eclipsed by the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked. The footsteps crunched closer, and the two men came into view. Her heart hammered in her chest as her mind tried desperately to process the situation.

"Don't move. I'd hate to have to shoot you, but he wouldn't mind a bit," muttered the second man in a rumbling tenor.

In the meager light, she was able to make out few details, but the two were so physically disparate that Carmen didn't think she'd have any trouble telling them apart. The first speaker was a tall lanky man who moved with the restless energy of a caged jaguar. Carmen guessed him to be a year or two older than herself. He had dark hair and, from her brief but unfortunate olfactory observation, little more than a passing acquaintance with soap and water. She might have said as much, were it not for the rifle leveled at her.

His darker-skinned companion was almost a head shorter, standing around 5'6". What he lacked in height, he made up for in substance. He was well-muscled with broad shoulders and the slight paunch of the middle aged, though he looked to be no older than thirty. His head was almost as round as a melon and completely devoid of hair. There was a large, dark patch on the right side of his jaw, but whether it was a birthmark or a bruise, she couldn't tell.

"Shit. If I ever get out of this, I'm trading that damned horse for a pair of boots," Carmen thought darkly.

The shorter man closed the gap between them and grasped the girl's upper arm, pulling her to her feet. Panic slowly rising, she stumbled and almost fell against him. Cursing loudly, the tall man strode forward. Sneering at the girl, he wrapped his fist in her hair and began to drag her as she struggled to regain her footing. The shorter man called out, "Damn, Robert. Take it easy on the girl. If you're planning on trading her, you don't want her beat up none."

Robert stopped long enough to let Carmen stand. As he did so, his stench finally caught up with her, and she had to brace herself to keep from gagging. It was like dead fish, stale sweat, and rancid cooking oil. The smell was so thick the girl could taste it, and breathing through her mouth didn't help. The tall man tugged her along, and the three arrived at what she assumed was the men's camp half a mile upstream. Still trembling violently, she licked her dry lips. "I... I don't have any money, but I can get..." she stammered before a glare from the tall man shocked her into silence. The dark man caught her eye, urgently motioning to her to be silent. Closing her mouth, she had never felt so small and helpless.

A small wagon stood at the rear of the small clearing. Two muddy draft horses were tethered to a nearby tree. A black gelding and a large bay mare, still saddled, were tied off near the mouth of the clearing. Robert reached into a sack on the driver's seat of the wagon. After shuffling the contents for a moment, he brought out a piece of faded blue cloth. Folding it lengthwise, he quickly gagged Carmen. Forcing her into a sitting position at the side of the wagon, Robert swiftly tied one of her wrists to each of the wheels and went about adding more wood to the fire under the cooking pot. After stirring for a moment, he dipped a grubby finger into the pot and shoved it into his mouth.

Glancing around the immediate area, Robert called out, "Sikes, where's the damned salt?"

"Don't have none. You used the rest last night," said the older man. He walked past Carmen and began rummaging through a burlap sack in the back of the wagon. After retrieving another bowl from the sack, he crossed to the cooking fire and ladled a couple of steaming bowls full of the mixture from the pot. Reaching for a canteen, he poured a cupful of water. Setting the cup down, he carried the canteen and a bowl of the stew to the wagon, setting it next to Carmen. He untied her left hand so she could feed herself, with a warning not to misbehave. Reaching behind her, he gently loosened the gag, separating the long strands of hair from the knot itself. Finally removing it, he stuffed the cloth into his pocket and returned to his own food. Sniffing it cautiously, he picked up his water. After drinking deeply, he smiled at his companion. "It almost smells as bad as you, Robert."

Initially relieved at the offer of food, the girl thought, "Well, they wouldn't feed me if they were going to kill me." Once she had a mouthful of the foul concoction, she wondered if they were merely trying to employ a different method. At one point, it must have been something vaguely resembling a fish stew, but the chunks of flesh had sunk to the bottom of the pot and burned. The odd bits of vegetation that had been added were tough, bitter, and woody. She suspected that he had not thought to rinse them, as there seemed to be more sand than seasoning. Nevertheless, she hadn't eaten since midmorning, and it was food.

Setting the bowl down, she put the canteen between her knees and used her free hand to uncap it. After wiping off the threads of the canteen's mouthpiece with the hem of her torn skirt, she tipped it to her mouth and drank. The water was tepid but sweet, and she drank more than she probably should have. She shuddered at the thought of relieving herself in front of the men. She returned the cap to the canteen and picked up the bowl, placing it on her upper thigh. Fishing through it, she plucked out a fish head and surreptitiously tossed it underneath the wagon. Breaking the remaining meat into smaller pieces, she then proceeded to drink the stew. She found it much easier to tolerate by simply swallowing, and she made short work of it.

Her hunger sated, she was dozing lightly when Sikes came back to get her settled in for the night. He untied her right wrist, telling her to lie down next to the wagon. Tying her hands together, he then tied them to a wagon wheel and bound her ankles. She was grateful when he made no move to gag her. Mindful of his warning not to speak, she offered him a weak smile of thanks and drifted off to sleep.

Her dreams were dark and troubled. She was running from something, some unseen predator. It seemed that every step she took, she could feel its hot, fetid breath at the nape of her neck. Sweat beaded on her brow and lip, and her heart pounded in her ribcage. Through the haze of sleep, she startled at the sense of something stroking her leg. Her eyes flew open, and her hands instinctively tried to come up in front of her, but the knots held.

Robert knelt before her in the predawn light, untying her ankles. He was dripping wet, apparently having finally taken it upon himself to wash. He was also naked, save a saddlebag slung over his shoulder and a pair of dingy gray boxers that left little doubt as to his state of mind and intentions. Still between the sleeping and waking worlds, it took a moment for Carmen to remember the man. She rubbed her wrists and cautiously stretched her muscles, not wanting to startle or anger him. Gesturing for silence, he took her by the hand and began walking towards the tree line at the back of the clearing. The girl glanced at Sikes' sleeping form and followed Robert deeper into the woods. He caught the gesture and whispered, "He's not going to help you this time."

This snapped her into action, and she began to struggle in earnest. She tried unsuccessfully to break free, but he only tugged her closer to him. Whirling on him, she brought her knee up sharply, but he twisted his pelvis, and the blow missed its mark, merely grazing his hip. Drawing back, he slapped her across the cheek. With growing impatience, he began dragging her through the trees, farther and farther away from camp.

After they'd walked for about ten minutes, he stopped. Carmen was now crying openly. She could feel the heat radiating from the handprint on her face. She was still tired, and her muscles ached from head to toe. She was also lost, captive, and in the woods with a violent man who was probably about to take her virginity. She had tried to control her panic, tried to think her way out of the situation, but she realized that option was most likely lost when she attacked him. She had known fear in her young life, but nothing could have prepared her for the level of terror that now coursed through her veins.

He pushed her to the ground. Kneeling down, he forced her legs apart with his knee. When he started raising her skirts, her hands instinctively flew to stop him. Glaring, he moved as if to slap her again. She flinched and stilled her shaking hands. Moving up her body, he sat on her pelvis, pinning her to the ground.

She watched, frantic with terror, as he reached into the saddlebag and brought out a short length of rope and a small tin. He leaned forward and grasped her hands, tying them together. Standing, he rolled her onto her stomach.

He reached into the saddlebag and withdrew a cooking knife. Bunching up the fabric from the back of the heavy riding skirt, he began sawing through it. Once he had made a significant notch in it, he put down the knife. Taking the skirt in hand, he ripped it from waist to hem and tossed it. Her two linen underskirts suffered a similar fate. Using the knife to cut the drawstring of her knee length underpants, he tore them from her body, finally enjoying his first unobstructed view of her ass. Drawing her up to her knees, he moved between her legs and untied the cord of his underwear. From her position, she couldn't see what he was doing, but when his hard manhood was released from its confines, she felt it slap against her.

Robert felt the girl flinch and grabbed her hips, pulling her back. Without a word, he picked up the tin and popped the lid off. He dipped two fingers into the grease and scooped out a generous amount. He had almost decided against using any after the little bitch tried to knee him, but he liked it better this way. He spread a little of the grease down her crack, using his finger as a homing device. Once he felt her pucker, he shoved his finger into her ass, laughing as she jumped. He twisted his finger slightly, trying to smear it evenly. Robert then wiped a large glob of the grease on his glans, shivering slightly at the delicious sensation. Wrapping his hand around his cock, he lightly stroked himself, spreading the lubricant over the length of his shaft.

Oh, God! Rape is one thing, but this is a sin against God! He can't possibly plan on-

She felt something hot and blunt pressing against her most secret of places. She felt sick. Before she could complete her last thought, his hips lunged forward, spearing her and tearing a scream from her throat. It was a burning, tearing sensation that sent fingers of fire all the way up her spine. She couldn't breathe, couldn't catch her breath. Her stomach churned, and she tried to lurch forward despite herself. Anything to get away from this!

His hips shot forward again, and he felt his balls slap against her pussy. Don't worry, I'll get around to that later, bitch. "Oh, fuck," he thought. "This feels so good. So tight." He readjusted his grip on her hips and began to make hard, deep thrusts that wrought whimpers and sobs from the girl. Unconcerned, he plunged forward like a rutting stag. He could already feel his cum boiling in his balls. He heard a great whooshing sound and flinched, stumbling backward as something flew perilously close to his left ear. What the hell?

Carmen saw them long before Robert did, but she was still surprised when she felt his body pull away from her. There was a flash of pain when his cock was pulled from her aching depths. She could hear him struggling to stand, but a second warning arrow was loosed and he was still. Still wracked by sobs, she fell to her side, drawing her knees to her chest to protect herself.

Robert eyed the saddlebag, shaking with impotent rage. If he thought he could have reached it before the arrows reached him, he would have gladly shot the interlopers for interrupting his morning plans. It was just bad form, like stealing a hard-won fresh kill. Still, self-preservation kicked in, and he kept his hands up and slowly backed away from the girl.

Two sandaled feet came into view, followed closely by two more. The young man closest to her knelt down, speaking in low, soothing tones. The language was unfamiliar, but she did not think they meant to harm her. Her eyes widened when the speaker produced a long flint knife, but he shushed her softly. The boy touched the rope around her wrists with one finger, and then touched the knife again, sitting calmly until she made the connection. When she nodded slightly, he slowly moved forward and began cutting the rope. Once it was severed, he put the knife down, still speaking to her in his strange language. His older companion, meanwhile, contented himself by kicking Robert's shaking form a couple of times before politely turning his back to Carmen and urinating on him.

After a brief conversation, the two strangers used the rope fragments to tie Robert to a tree. The bark cut into his naked back and buttocks. The older of the two tied a short length of the rope around the base of Robert's genitals before shoving a piece of leather into his mouth, effectively gagging him. Although he was not in pain, Robert knew the danger he was in if he was not found soon. Growing up, he'd used cord around the testicles to castrate his father's bulls. Over time, the huge sack would simply turn black and fall off.

The last rope dropped free, and she stood carefully. Her buttocks and thighs were streaked with blood. She picked up her tattered riding skirt and tied it around her waist. When the two men started back into the trees and gestured to her to follow, she came to a decision. Sikes seemed nicer than Robert, but that wasn't saying much. He might not be so amenable when he discovered his friend's condition; and while he hadn't hurt her, he had made no move to help her, either. If nothing else, maybe these two sandaled men would loan her a horse or find someone to write her uncle. Taking a deep breath, Carmen walked deeper into the forest after her new friends.