Captive Travelers (13 page)

The shaman and chief watched them eat and were satisfied. Paytah said, “Tokala left with Honani to hunt. They should have been back to receive the new offerings with the tribe. I will send Tocho and Nashoba to find them tomorrow,” the chief decided.

The shaman and the chief walked back to their teepees in silence. They would have little time to appreciate the gifts from the spirits before Hehewuti and her warrior grandson would arrive. The shaman was still receiving mystical warnings, and he and Chief Paytah were discussing the meaning.

Chapter V

Nashoba stared once at his teepee while he and Tocho headed towards the west hills in search of Honani and Tokala. He wondered if his white woman would be ready when he returned.

“They were told not to go on this hunt,” Tocho muttered in disgust.

“They are trying to increase their tribal standing,” Nashoba replied. “My father said they did not even tell him they were leaving. He learned through Honani’s wife.”

“The brothers are fast,” Tocho admitted. “Perhaps they have managed to stay clear of the bear.”

“No, they would have returned to the village for the offerings. I think they expected to bring the beast back, and to disrupt the arrival of the captives and gain attention for themselves. Tokala did nothing to hide his anger when I did not choose him to make the journey with us,” Nashoba reminded him.

“Have you heard of Wacasa? Will she be ready to come to you soon?”

Nashoba rubbed his crotch. “My mother will not let it be rushed. She will make sure that my woman is well prepared.”

Tocho was silent for a moment. “I was thinking of reclaiming Sahkyo for the winter, but I can see it could cause a problem with the farmer.”

Nashoba stared straight ahead, as though he was studying the low hills. “Do not give up on the signs, Tocho. Until this season, mine had always been empty of a woman. I had thought I was to make my journey alone. Perhaps Sahkyo will be back in your casting, again.”

Tocho looked toward the hill. “Do not think so hard about this, Nashoba, but I see a look in your eyes when you stare at Wacasa. It is a look not for captives.”

Nashoba sighed. “I think it is best to leave the Mink with her farmer until there is a sign in your casting, Tocho.”

“Perhaps I will trade for a captive at the rendezvous.”

They rode towards the hills in silence. It was before noon when they saw the two riderless horses grazing, and there was dried blood on the belly of Honani’s paint. On the side of the meadow, they found the warrior. He was bleeding from a wide gash on his side, but still breathing. Nashoba wrapped the wound to staunch the blood flow while Tocho constructed a travois and strapped it to the injured man’s horse.

It was another hour before they found Tokala’s broken body in the woods. They laid him on another travois attached to his brown gelding. Nashoba and Tocho turned toward the hills and wished the grizzly peaceful travel. With the sacrifice of a warrior from their tribe, they were certain the bear would climb deeper into the forest and away from the village.

Tocho looked back at Tokala’s ripped body as he led his horse back to the settlement. Nashoba was leading Honani, who had begun moaning softly. The two men were twin brothers, and Tokala was always guiding Honani on foolish missions to try to gain the chief’s attention.

“Ganali will belong to the tribe, now,” Tocho said.

“Yes, it will be good for Waka to have company. Ganali has earned the rest and was a loyal captive for the Fox,” Nashoba sighed. Tokala had been so cruel to the woman it was obvious she was relieved to spend her summers in the pen.

When the Indians returned, Honani’s wife gathered her sisters to try to heal her husband. The shaman gave them medicine and spoke ritual words, but with the spirit women busy with Wacasa, Honani’s recovery would rest in his wife and her sisters’ hands.

“The death of a warrior,” Chief Paytah whispered. “It is the first sign.”

“Yes,” the shaman agreed. “I must hurry to get the offerings prepared and settled with the tribe. It will not be much longer before the others cross over. I will have Tokala’s funeral ritual to prepare now as well.”

Awi walked up to them. “Is it true? Tokala is dead?”

The chief replied, “Yes. He should not have taken his brother to hunt the bear. The shaman had already said it was to be left to feed on weakened buffalo and wander back to the hills.”

“What of Ganali?” Awi pressed.

“She will be left with Waka. The tip of the cow horn was split. Two will feed the children of the tribe,” the shaman answered.

Awi nodded and wandered back to the pens. “Ganali?” The woman waddled over to her on her calloused knees and padded fists. She had been kneeling in the shade with Waka. “Tokala is dead.”

Ganali’s eyes widened in surprise. Although Tokala threw fits of anger when he was left out of tribal missions, he avoided anything that had the risk of causing him actual injury. She cocked her head.

“He lost his hunt with a bear,” Awi informed her.

“Oani?” Ganali asked. The brothers were inseparable, though Honani was much more quiet and calmer than Tokala.

“His wife and her sisters are tending to him. He should heal, though he will have a great scar to talk about.” Awi smiled at the cow. “Chief Paytah has decided you provided well for Tokala, and the shaman agrees that you will not be owned by another, Ganali. You will stay in the pen with Waka.”

Ganali was thrilled. Not to have to return to the cruel man, nor the possible abuse of another warrior, was an unexpected gift. She also thought she might be one step closer to being released, though the thought of leaving the safety of the tribe was a bit frightening.

“We will begin preparing Waka and you can help her learn.” Awi looked down at Ganali’s hanging breasts. “Let’s get you milked.”

Ganali looked back to where Waka was once more napping. Last night, Waka let her curl in front of her with her back against her soft breasts. Waka had even put an arm around her, pulling her close to keep her safe. Her skin was warm and soft, and Ganali had peaceful dreams.

Ganali smiled, and waddled behind Awi under the tarp. Only five young Indian bucks waited today.
Soon, Waka will help to ease them with me,
she thought happily.

Ganali crawled over to the milking station, and Awi fed her full breasts through the holes drilled into the wood bench. Bowls rested on the ground, inches below her nipples. She raised to her knuckles and lowered again, feeling the smooth wood squeeze her breasts. Awi gave a few pinched tugs on her nipples until the rich milk began to flow.

A hand pulled back on her head and Ganali looked once at the young man before he slipped his stiff cock into the ring in her mouth. There was rapid chatter from behind her and fumbling fingers tugged and pinched her protruding clit. She tried to concentrate on emptying her breasts, but soon she was wiggling her bottom in frustration. She did not have to wait long before the young man thrust into her pussy. Ganali smiled in contentment, relieving the pressure on her breasts and the heat of her channel. She hoped that not all of the young men would want Waka.

Cici woke just as Ganali was returning from under the tarp. She looked different, but Cici could not figure out what the change was. Awi followed a few minutes later, with the quirt in her hand. Cici made the awkward crawl to the enclosure. Her knuckles hurt and her legs were cramping. She hoped they were going to be released.

She was led over to a low bench with two holes cut into it. Tala was kneeling behind it. The Indian reached for Cici’s breast and she tried to back up, and Awi cut swiftly down on her bottom with the quirt. “Oweee,” Cici shrieked. This was not a guiding tap; it was a hard lash that left a welt.

“Come, Waka,” Tala ordered. Awi had to lash her again to get her to move forward.

Cici shook her head, looking fearfully up at the woman and glancing at the holes. They were too small, and even though she had no idea as to their purpose, she knew they would pinch. Tala pushed and fed her breasts through. Cici thought that if she tried to move the bench would follow and be attached to her chest. Tala and Awi each grabbed a curled hand and secured her wrists to the legs of the bench.

Awi looked over Waka’s back. “I thought you might have changed your mind, Soquila. We are preparing Waka for her first feeding.”

“I stopped by to check on Honani. The gashes are deep, but I think he will recover. With his wife’s six sisters to help him, he will take his time to recuperate,” Soquila predicted. He liked Honani, and he was pleased Tokala could not coax him into trouble again. The Fox would run wild through the spirit world, probably still chasing his own tail for attention. He looked down at Waka’s pale, wide ass and the dark bush visible between her slightly spread thighs. “Have you checked her knees?”

“We will feed her first,” Awi stated. “She has spent most of her time enjoying the rich diet of the trough and sleeping.”

Soquila nodded. This was a good sign. With Waka’s restricted movement, she should soon put on weight. He stroked her bottom, and he laughed when she froze and let out a shriek.

Cici heard the man behind her. It was humiliating to have him looking at her bottom, and with her legs belted up she could not force her thighs together. She knew he could see her pussy. Her instinct to fight for control over the man turned to fear.

Tala held a tube made from the intestine of a deer. It was something warriors used on their cocks to prevent pregnancy. This one was filled with a white liquid, and Cici eyed it warily. The buffalo milk was rich and fatty. It was added to the mash of grain in the trough to keep the cow’s breast milk nutritious. To encourage lactation, this tube was laced with fenugreek. It helped sweeten the concoction with a taste of maple.

The other two tribes they shared the summer plains with, moved south during the winter. The Wehali climbed into the mountains, and they could not take cattle there. It was easier to tame their own cows for the children’s milk, so they left the ranch cattle for the other two tribes. They discovered the children preferred the maple syrupy taste of the milk to that which the plains’ beasts provided. Ganali had performed admirably, but the children would receive a larger portion to strengthen their bones with Waka’s contribution.

Tala leaned the skin towards the ring in Waka’s mouth and she tried to pull back. Soquila reached between her thighs and began rubbing her slit. “Ooo,” she shrieked.
Oh god. Oh god, what are they doing to me?
She tried to squeeze her thighs together, and Awi was the first to figure out she was more panicked by the man behind her than by the feeding. There was a burst of Indian dialect Cici could not understand.

“Is she wet? Is there any sign of arousal?” Awi asked. The looks she had caught Waka giving Ganali began to make sense.

“No, nothing,” Soquila admitted. He rather prided himself on his abilities.

“Let me try,” she suggested.

Soquila looked at her in confusion a moment, and then he understood. “You think she does not want a man?”

Awi shuffled to Waka’s rear. She stroked along her quivering bottom and she felt an immediate clench beneath the muscle. “For now, perhaps, we will do the first feeding this way. We will offer her my touch as a bribe this evening, after she pleases you.”

Cici felt the woman’s hands and she stared miserably into Tala’s eyes. “You will drink this, Waka, and Awi will not let Soquila touch you. If you refuse…”

Cici was terrified. The Indian warrior was a strong, imposing figure, made even more so by her constantly drugged state while he guided her from the farm. Awi’s fingers were stroking along her slit, and the slender digits were producing the cream that the man could not. She closed her eyes and felt the skin slide into her mouth.

There was a little hole pierced into the bottom of the skin, and Cici felt the thick, sweetened fluid on her tongue. She kept her eyes closed and began to drink. Maybe they would stop this humiliation when it was empty.
Oh… oh, Jenny. Oh, god.
The fingers stroked her clit, and a finger began to pump inside of her. God, it felt so good. Cici began rocking her hips and forcing the holes on the bench to tug on her breasts.

Awi kept her on the edge of climax, and Cici barely acknowledged Tala inserting another filled skin. They fed her three of the rich mixtures. Towards the end of the last skin, Awi motioned to Soquila, and his hand replaced hers on Waka’s pussy. “Be gentle,” Awi warned.

Cici was so close to the edge that she was panting and pushing back into the hand. Her mind did not recognize the change to the rougher, stronger fingers. Soquila followed Awi’s advice, and kept his thrusting finger plunging gently. He longed to be burying his cock inside her folds and feel the slapping softness of her full bottom against his thighs. It was an advantage he had considered over waiting for the raven.
And she prefers the touch of a woman? I will train her to want my cock, as well.

Soquila deftly brought her to orgasm while she bucked and slid her breasts up and down through the holes in the milking bench. It was an effective means of producing the tugging motion on her teats and encouraging milk production with the least amount of trauma to the cow. Stress could hold her milk supply for weeks.

Cici shrieked her orgasm and collapsed onto the bench. When she opened her eyes, she saw Awi smiling down at her. It began to dawn on her that she had climaxed to Soquila’s touch.

Cici had no idea what they were doing to her. They brought her back for a second session just at sunset. With her hands mitted, she could not remove the ring from her mouth; and with the ring in her mouth she could not chew off the mittens. It was frustrating, because she could not speak with Ganali and ask her what the hell was going on.

Ganali edged closer to her at the trough. At first, Cici thought the woman was being friendly. It did not take long before Ganali was aggressively pushing her, and Cici realized she was trying to grab her portion of the food.
Oh, hell no.
Cici rammed her hip sideways, and their bottoms crashed as she pushed her away. Ganali might be larger, but Cici was still much stronger. Cici scooped frantically at the remaining gruel. Ganali had managed to down three fourths of it before Cici realized what she was doing.

When the trough was empty, Cici knelt up and glared at the other girl. Gruel dripped down their chins while Cici stared at her with angry eyes. Ganali was embarrassed. Food and milking had been the only break to her days in the pen for weeks, and she forgot there even was another cow to share with. Tears leaked from her eyes and she whimpered miserable, mewling sobs.