Savannah And The Warrior Ch 01

Her heart stopped. There he was again. Savannah stood motionless as their gaze met through the portal of her cabin window. She had been wiping up crumbs off of the makeshift wooden counter below the sill when she had the sudden tugging of a feeling that she was being watched. This was not the first meeting of their eyes that had taken place. It had happened on several occasions now, lasting for only a few brief seconds, but seeming to occur with more frequency.

Her gaze lingered on the form of the mysterious native warrior, watching with a hint of disappointment as he broke the stillness and retreated on his steed almost effortlessly, disappearing back into the cluster of trees on the hill from whence he came. The small number of townsfolk around had been in an uproar of panic lately where the subject of "injuns" was concerned, but this native did not scare her. In fact she felt a peace about him. It almost felt like he was watching over her. Her silent guardian. But she also wondered if she was being possibly a bit naive. Maybe she should be worried. Maybe he was scouting their place out for attack.

Her brow furrowed deep in thought over the matter until a gripping hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. "Whatter you lookin' at honey?"

The stench of the whiskey on his breath, mixed with the scent of his unwashed sun-baked and sweaty body, made her stomach churn. Savannah steeled her soft and curvy form defensively at the offensive presence of her husband. He leaned over her, squinting and peering through the window to take a peak for himself. "Nothing," she mumbled, shaking her head slowly and her eyes now downcast, "I thought I saw something but it was just the wind in the trees, I think."

"Oh. Well, it better not be one o' them damn injuns, unless they want one o' my bullets in their ass!" Then he exuded a long, slow belch. "Uuuurrrrrrppppp."

She put the dish towel to her face, feeling her dinner rising at the putrid smell. He snorted and guffawed at her reaction, grabbing one of her plump derriere cheeks in his dirty, callused hand. He pressed his body against her backside forcefully, pinning her against the counter. "Wash-ah matter honey? You don't likey my burps? Ain't I gentlemanly enuff fer ya?" Another ghastly burp emanated from him.

"Hank, please," the redhead stammered out. A hint of tears beginning in her eyes. She knew what was coming next and she dreaded it. He was drunk. There was only one thing on his mind when he got drunk. That was ravaging and molesting her.

"Please?" He cooed sarcastically. "Please what baby?" He taunted her. "Please fuck you? You want it don't you? You know you do. Stop pretending you don't you little dirty bitch. I know you love my cock in your tight wet hole." His breathing was heavy and labored, and now fully in her ear, followed by his probing tongue. Her bright blue eyes fully welled up with fear and anguish. Her body shuddered. This is not how she dreamed marriage would be, joined with a filthy drunkard and a brute.

She felt Hank's pelvis press against her into her lower back. She felt his hardness. Her body cringed and trembled. He reached down and pulled up her long muslin skirt to her waist, exposing her full round bottom. Her only protection now was her thin undergarment. He slapped her on the rear sternly with a harsh force. "I thought I told you to stop wearin' these dern things! They only get in my way! I want my access easy! Whore!"

She started to sob and groaned angrily through clenched teeth. "I'm not a dirty whore! Don't call me that!"

He angrily grabbed a fist of her long auburn wavy tresses, yanking her head backwards in a painful position. She winced but kept her jaw gritted. "Shut the hell up you piece of trash! You're mine now and I can do with you as I please!"

Savannah wanted to put up more of a struggle. She wanted to flee. But she had tried that again and again and she was never successful. He was much too strong for her. She had learned the hard way it would only anger him and her only reward would be more bruises added to her body.

She steeled herself against the counter, gripping it with her pale white hands. He released her hair and she leaned her head forward. Her hair cascaded down about her face which was moist with trails of tears, highlighting the light trace of freckles on her cheeks. He used his free hands and snatched down her undergarments, exposing her fully to him now. He fumbled around as he tried to unbutton and unzip his pants in his drunken stupor. Savannah wished he would just hurry up so this nightmare would end.

Finally freeing his engorged member he urgently and violently separated her nether lips and then impaled her in one fast painful swoop. She cried out at the discomfort as she was not wet, nor ready, for him. His only response to her cry was a selfish groan of contentment as he slid into her warm depths, withdrew, and then slammed into her again and again, picking up speed and voracity with each thrust.

With each of his raging plunges her cries turned steadily to screams. Yet he did not let up. "Oh God," she thought, "He is going to tear me wide open!" She held on for dear life to the counter. His pounding shoving her uncomfortably against the hard surface, almost knocking the breath out of her. She thought she was going to pass out.

In the midst of another scream he took both of his hands and reached around and tightly grabbed her ample breasts. Pain shot through them both. She sobbed and gasped for air. She then lifted up her head, not wanting to see his filthy hands on her. As she did her gaze went back to the window and to her surprise she caught sight of the mysterious warrior again. But this time he was sitting astride his black stallion not even five feet away from her. A new fear took over her being as she could see his dark eyes blazing with the fire of sheer hate and anger in her direction.

She watched with terror as he fluidly jumped down from his horse and saw the tomahawk he wielded in his right hand. Savannah knew in that instant he was coming into her home with death on his agenda. She futilely tried to warn Hank of the impending invader. "Hank! No!.........Stop!.....Hank....There's..." But he was making it impossible with the force and pace at which he was taking her and his absolute oblivion to anything around him. His one and only focus was his carnal pleasure of slamming his rod into her mound and grunting like an animal.

Within what seemed like seconds she heard the door of the cabin splinter open in an explosion. Such an eruption of noise that even Hank stopped still, being jolted to attention. But before he could withdraw from her body or even turn around to investigate the commotion, they both heard the whir of the flying tomahawk. Savannah screamed, bracing herself. She then heard the horrid sound it made as it stopped with an eerie thud deep into flesh. Feeling Hank's heavy body go limp and lifeless, becoming dead weight on top of her, she was forced to slumping further over the counter. She inhaled sharply with intent to scream. But with such heaviness upon her, and the edge of the counter constricting her breathing, compacted with her fear and anxiety, Savannah's world went dark as she slipped into unconsciousness.