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Captured! (Part 1)
Charlotte and Rebecca, sixteen-year-old identical English twins are captured in an Apache raid.
Rebecca didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there among the rocks. Maybe two or three hours. She shifted her weight slightly to reposition the rock that was sticking in her back. Two hours ago, it had seemed quite comfortable but was now beginning to seriously irritate her. That, together with the blistering dry heat cracking her lips and a blinding headache with a raging thirst, made for one uppity sixteen-year-old. Noon in the Sonoran Desert, in northern Mexico, in June, was not a place for pale English girls to sit in the sun, even if the events of the last few months had toughened them up both physically and mentally. She glanced to her left and wished she could sleep like her identical twin sister, Charlotte, who was curled up on a small patch of dusty sand. The thin sunshade, erected by their mother from an old bed sheet, offered little relief from the scorching sun.
Raising her head, she could see their parents through the shimmering, super-heated air working to try and fix the axle on the big old wagon on the dusty track, maybe one hundred feet below and a quarter of a mile away.
The year is 1848. Arizona doesn’t yet exist. The Gadsden Purchase has not yet been made. In future years, this would become Southern Arizona, but for now, it was Mexico and the border with New Mexico Territory was around 30 miles to the North.
Rebecca lowered her head and closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing through her nose to stop her mouth drying out. They had a water bottle but it was three-quarters gone and their father would not be best pleased if she went down to the wagon to re-fill it. Her mind wandered back two weeks, to the day they left Santa Fe with twelve other wagons. She and Charlie, the name she always used for Charlotte, had shared a hot bath in a hotel the night before they left. God, that seemed so long ago. After the bath, they’d brushed each other’s long blonde hair. Hair which was now tangled and caked in dust. The journey had been uneventful until this morning when the wagon’s rear axle had begun to creak ominously. Although they were only twenty miles from the San Pedro river crossing, the traders on their laden wagons refused to help or wait. Money and trade was their priority. Their father was unconcerned; the axle just needed some grease. But it needed more than grease.
Their father had discovered a long crack in the axle, so had stopped where the track weaved through this rocky outcrop, where they could work on the wagon largely hidden from view. It had all seemed so easy when they left Independence Missouri three months earlier. Two months on the Santa Fe trail had been trouble free, even boring for the girls. Just day after day of relentless vibration, dust and heat. Their father’s original plan had been to stay in Missouri until August to reach Santa Fe in November enabling them to cross the deserts of the south-west during the mild winter. But things rarely go as planned. It quickly became obvious to their parents that their meagre savings would not last long in Missouri. They had to press on westwards. Arriving in Santa Fe in late May, there would be no immigrant wagon trains heading west until September or October, only traders carrying goods overland to California.
This was Apache land. Linda could sense that her father was worried. He’d unhitched the two horses and saddled them, then sent the girls into the rocks. “If the Apaches attack, stay in the rocks, don’t come down, you’ll be safe. Your mother and I will escape on the horses and return for you when the Apache have gone. Stay still in the rocks, pull down the sheet and you’ll be safe”.
The sweatband on Linda’s hat helped a little, but still, sweat ran into her eyes. Each breath she drew sent searing, drying hot air down her parched throat.
A movement to her left caught her attention, but she relaxed when she saw it was only an eighteen-inch Gila Monster, plodding about its business, probably looking for Quail eggs or chicks. She’d seen one two days earlier and had enquired of one of the traders. Now she knew that it was a venomous lizard, but it was slow and ponderous; you had to be pretty dumb to get bitten by one. She loved the a****ls and birds, becoming quite a pest, bombarding the traders with questions. One of them, Bo from Norway, had enjoyed teaching her. Behind, in the rocks, she could hear Cactus Wrens squabbling and calling, whilst others were busying themselves among the towering Saguaro, feeding on the tasty fruit near the top. Again, movement caught her eye, this time a dazzling, iridescent hummingbird, flitting from plant to plant looking for flowers or insects. How could something so beautiful live in such a godforsaken place? she thought.
Rebecca let out a long sigh, cleared some of the gravel and rocks from around Charlie and managed to squeeze onto the small patch of sand behind her sister, spooning her.
Her mind drifted back to their idyllic life in England. To the water mill on the banks of the River Dudwell in deepest Sussex where their father was a fifth-generation miller. To the sound of the water wheel, the smell of the honeysuckle, the flash of a kingfisher over the mill pond. The pond where she and Vicky would often swim, sometimes naked. To the soft lips of Tyler Harding, the blacksmith’s son, who she kissed last September on their sixteenth birthdays. Her first ever kiss.
But the idyll was shallow. All was not well. She would hear her parents arguing at night, her mother crying. Sometimes she would listen at the top of the creaky cottage stairs. She didn’t understand everything she heard, but it was obvious that the mill was in trouble. Due to industrialisation, people were leaving the countryside for the cities in their thousands. Men working ten hours a day in a factory could earn double the wages compared to twelve hours on a farm. In the big city ports; Liverpool, Bristol, Southampton, London, ships were arriving almost daily from America and Canada, their holds bursting with wheat. And at those ports, new steam-powered roller mills could produce vast quantities of flour almost on the quayside.
Every mill along the river was struggling. One or two mills could still make a profit but not five. However they were lucky, they had thirty acres of good quality farmland. A neighbouring farmer, a good friend, had offered a fair price for the mill and land. In fact a generous price. Mother wanted to stay and work the farm but Father said they would always be poor. He wanted to go to California where the sale of the thirty acres would buy hundreds of acres of fertile land. Father won. That money was sewn into mother’s undergarments in the form of gold sovereigns. Three months later, Rebecca and Charlie had sat on the dockside in Southampton, staring wide-eyed at the vast ships and fevered activity. She recalled the movement of the ship as they crossed the vast ocean…, and a kiss.
Charlie woke with a start, “What was that?”
“Huh?”, responded Rebecca, rubbing the dust from her eyes, irritated that her dream of Seamus, the wild Irish boy she’d befriended on the ship had been disturbed.
“I heard a shout.”
Rebecca sat up and looked towards the wagon. Their parents had stopped work on the wagon and were looking back along the trail. Suddenly their father dropped his tools. Both of them ran for the horses, mounted and rode frantically westwards along the trail, their mother glancing up into the rocks. “Quick, get down!”, said Rebecca.
She pressed Charlie down into the dust, pulling the shade-giving sheet down with them. “Keep quiet,” she whispered.
“What is it?”, asked Charlie, fear in her voice.
“Apaches I think, riding in from the east, maybe a dozen from what I could see, we’ll be safe if we stay here and stay quiet.”
For the next hour or so, the girls huddled together out of sight, not daring to look up. They listened to the strange voices, the shouts, the sound of pots banging, wood breaking and men laughing. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they heard the horses galloping away eastwards again.
They waited ten minutes before peering over the rocks. “Oh Becky!”, cried Charlie, her hand over her mouth. Everything from the wagon was spread over the ground, clothes s**ttered, cases broken, cans of food, glass shards. “Why did they do that?”
“Probably looking for guns, whisky, gold, anything they could carry that was of use or of value,” said Becky, “Come on.”
“Father said to stay in the rocks until they come back.”
“That might be days,” said Becky, “They’ve probably gone to Tucson Presidio for help, that’s at least a days ride each way. We need water, Charlie, the Apache might have left some. We’ll go down, refill the water bottle, then go back up into the rocks to wait. There might be food and blankets as well.”
“Perhaps we should wait for sundown.”
Becky shook her head, “That’s nine hours, we’ve got about two mouthfuls of water left.”
“Okay,” said Charlie, “But if we move down through the rocks on the left, over there, we’ll be in cover for longer, just watch for rattlers.”
Carefully, keeping out of sight, the girls edged their way down. At the remains of the wagon, they stood and stared. The dusty ground was strewn with their smashed up lives – clothes, books, photographs, flour, beans, everything. “Well, so much for food, where are the water barrels?” asked Becky.
“Over there,” said Charlie pointing, “Both on their sides.” She walked over to them and looked. “Bring the water bottle over Becky, there’s a little bit left in each barrel, maybe a bottle full.”
Using a spoon they found in the dirt, they managed to salvage a bottle of water plus a few extra spoonfuls that they drank. Just as they were about to head back into the rocks, Charlie screamed. Becky spun around. Staring at them, no more than 20 feet away, were two Apache, one carrying a rifle, the other holding a cavalry sword. The girls turned to run for the rocks, but saw their route blocked by four more Apache, feathers in their hair and paint on their faces. Becky grabbed Charlie and held her tight. “W…, what do you want?” stammered Becky, her voice cracking.
The man with the sword said something they didn’t understand, then the one with the rifle stepped forwards, “You.”
“Our parents will be back soon with many men, they will kill you,” said Charlie defiantly.
The one with the rifle looked maybe s*******n or eighteen, the others not much older. “No. They go Tucson. No men come.” He pointed to the water bottle, “Here you die, you come.”
“Are they rescuing us, Becky?” asked Charlie.
“I don’t think so,” said Becky, “Why destroy the wagon? No, I think they are going to take us with them. They won’t kill us, we are valuable to them. He’s right though, we won’t last two days with just this bottle of water. We’d better do what they say, father will be back with help, he’ll find us, just stay close to me sis.”
“Do you have a name?” Becky asked the one with the rifle.
Becky thought for a moment. Perhaps they would be treated better if weren’t anonymous. If they had personalities. “I am Becky and this is my sister, Charlie.”
Itzachu looked from one to the other, “Look same”, he said.
Three more Apache rode up leading a group of horses. The girls watched as each man easily jumped on his horse. “Are we supposed to walk?” Charlie asked his sister quietly.
“I don’t think so”, said Becky, “We’d slow them down too much.”
“You”, said Itzachu pointing at Charlie, then at one of the other Apache. Looking at Becky, he held out his hand and nodded. In one movement, he lifted her onto the horse with ease so she was sitting behind him. Becky had ridden before, as had Charlie, but never bareback. “Hold”, said Itzachu, taking her hands and placing them around his waist.
Charlie walked over to the man she appeared to have been allocated to. Like Becky, she was lifted like a small c***d. The man was a bit older than Itzachu and much heavier built but not one ounce of it was fat. He pointed to his chest, “Biminak”.
“Charlie”, said Charlie feeling a little silly introducing herself to a savage. She copied her sister and put her arms around his waist. With a yelp, the horses and riders set off at a gallop across the desert towards a range of mountains barely visible in the distance.
The lack of saddles meant that the girls had to grip tight to avoid falling off. Becky, though scared, loved the speed and power of the horse and the rippling muscles of Itzachu’s brown muscular body. The rhythm of the horse forced her small breasts to rub against his back, hardening her nipples.
On the other horse, Charlie discovered that a hard part of the horse’s spine was rubbing on her cunny and little button, sending tingling sensations up through her young body. Her face was contorted in fear and pleasure.
Eventually, after half an hour, the men slowed to a canter and after another half hour, to a walk. The desert appeared to be flat and featureless but suddenly the depression of a dry creek appeared in front of them. Becky was amazed at how the lay of the land had hidden it from view. Steadily, the horses descended the loose dust and rock to the bottom. It was only about ten feet deep but Becky realised they were now hidden from the sight of any pursuers.
The girls were lowered to the sandy creek bed and shoved into the shade of some Mesquite bushes. They both watched silent and blinking as the men secured the horses and posted two men higher up as lookouts. Biminak looked at the girls, pointed at the sun and drew his finger to the horizon in the West.
“What does he want?” whispered Charlie.
“I think he’s telling us that we’re staying here until sunset,” said Becky. “Here have some water, I managed to hang on to the flask.”
Charlie took a mouthful and said, “We’ve got to stick together sis. No matter what happens, we musn’t let them split us up.”
“Yes, and we’ve got to be nice to them, be friendly. They’re less likely to hurt us if they like us.
“What was it like holding on to Itzachu?” asked Charlie quietly.
Becky grinned at her, “I’ve never held a man like that before. It felt amazing. He’s just pure muscle. You looked to be enjoying yourself too though. When I looked across you had your head resting on Bimunak’s back with a dreamy look on your face.
Charlie giggled, “I started feeling all funny, sort of tingly. I was quite disappointed when we stopped.”
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” asked Becky.
“The mountains probably. Lots of places to hide there. There’s nothing down here on the desert floor, plus I guess there’s water and food in the mountains. Why do you think they took us? Ransom?”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
Becky hesitated before answering. She didn’t want to worry her sister but they’d always sworn not to keep secrets. “I…., I read some newspaper reports while we were in St Louis. They said that the Apaches were taking captured white women deep into Mexico.”
“Why?” asked Charlie, looking worried.
Again, Becky hesitated, before whispering, “To…, to sell as slaves.”
“What!” cried her sister.
“Shhh..,” said Becky, “They musn’t know that we know. For now, we’ll just go along with whatever they want – we’ll be model captives. Don’t give them any reason to be nasty to us. The newspaper reports are probably wrong anyway, you know how they make stuff up but we can’t be sure. We musn’t give them any reason to tie us up. Just smile and be obedient.”
“When do you think father will be back with help?”
Becky looked at her twin sister. She could feel tears welling up. How could she tell her?
“Becky?” said Charlie, “What’s the matter?”
Wiping her eyes, Becky said slowly, “I don’t think he’s coming.”
“What?” said Charlie, “Why not?”
Becky took a deep breath, “We’re in Mexico. The only people in Tucson will be Mexican or traders. Neither will be interested in rescuing us. There might be some Mexican Army there but are they really going to be bothered about a couple of Gringo girls? No, unless they take us far to the north through the mountains and across the border where the US Army might rescue us, I can’t see us being rescued. It’s going to be down to us Charlie. We’ve got to cooperate and stay alert.”
“Do you think we might get a chance to escape?”
“Probably, but there’s no point in escaping into the desert and dying. Escaping will be the easy part, staying alive will be the hard part. The more we cooperate, the more they’ll trust us, the less they’ll watch us. I don’t know what sort of chance we’ll get but we’ve got to be ready to take it if it arises.”
Charlie looked across at the Apaches, “Okay sis, we’ll do as they say, for now. Best we get some rest, we may be riding into the night.”
Becky was woken by someone kicking her leg. Blinking, she pushed herself up on one elbow. It was still hot, even though the sun had sunk behind the mountains. Itzachu was holding a handful of dried meat jerky and waving it at both of them. “Eat,” he said, “Soon ride.”
“Where are you taking us, what are you going to do to us,” asked Becky, sitting up and taking a piece of the jerky.
“To mountains, you will stay there.”
Itzachu appeared to be studying the girls closely. “For how long,” asked Becky, “Are you going to kill us?”
Itzachu laughed and shook his head. Becky was stunned at how beautiful his smile was. “We no kill, no hurt, you do as told, we trade. We not savages, just protect our land.”
“This jerky is very good,” said Charlie as she tore another piece off with her teeth.
“Biih,” said Itzachu. Seeing the girls looking puzzled he made two horns above his head with his fingers.
“Pronghorn,” the girls laughed together.
“How did you learn to speak English?” asked Charlie.
“Traders. I learn some words, talk for my father, learn more words.”
“We can teach you words too,” said Becky, “You could teach us some Apache.”
Itzachu shook his head, “Where you go, need Spanish not Apache.” Becky thought she detected a hint of sadness in his voice. “Eat fast, we move soon,” he added before striding away.
“Becky?” asked Charlie.
“Uh huh,” replied Becky watching Itzachu’s muscular ass.
“You know you said we should co-operate?”
“Well…, how far do we co-operate? I mean…, what if…, I mean…”
“What if they try to **** us?”
“Well…, yes…, I guess so”
Becky looked at her sister, “We do whatever is necessary to survive, however horrible. Normal, civilised, white-man’s standards no longer apply. Whatever is necessary Charlie.”
They both watched the men, considering the implications.
“I’ve watched someone do it.”
“Do what?” said Becky, still watching Itzachu and the other men.
“It, silly, you know…, it.”
“Intercourse, you mean?” said Becky now staring at her sister. When?”
“On the boat.”
“What? How? When?”
“The second night out from Southampton. I woke up and couldn’t breathe down below. I went up on deck for some air. You remember those big steam ploughs that were bolted to the deck for shipment? Well, I sat in the seat of one of those. A man and a woman came along. She was one of that group of six cockney women – I heard father tell mother that he thought they were prostitutes. I think the man was one of the crew, a big black man. The woman – well, a girl really, I guess she was about s*******n – had on her nightgown. They disappeared behind some crates. I didn’t think anything of it but then I heard noises.”
“What sort of noises?”
“Well…, grunting and moaning. I climbed across to the other plough for a better look. The girl was on her hands and knees, her nightgown up around her neck. I could see her bottom and breasts.”
“Where was the man?”
“I’m coming to that! He was knelt behind her. His prick thing was sticking out, long, hard and shining black and he was pushing it into her.”
“Into her what?”
“Into her cunny. He kept pushing it in and out, I could see it all, I could see her breasts swaying under her”
“What was she doing?”
“She seemed to be pushing back in time with the man. He was grunting and saying rude words.”
“Like what? You can tell me, Charlie.”
“Take it all you whore” and “Is this what you wanted, a big nigger cock?”
Becky felt herself getting wet down below. “Did the girl say anything?”
“She kept saying, “Harder” and “Fuck me like a two-shilling whore” stuff like that.”
“Wow! How long did it last?”
“About fifteen minutes. The man grunted a lot then sort of jerked and it was all over. I went up most nights. It wasn’t always the same girl.”
“Why didn’t you wake me, Charlie?”
“Really?” Charlie laughed. “You in the dark? You used to fall off our rocking horse. You’d have tripped over the ship’s cat and fallen into the hold!”
“Probably,” laughed Becky, “So were the girls always on their knees?”
“No, sometimes on their back, sometimes standing up, and sometimes they used their mouth instead of their cunny.”
“What?” cried Becky, “Their mouth?”
“Uh huh, I saw one man with his prick in a girls mouth. After a bit, he pulled it out and held it in front of the girl’s face. She opened her mouth and a load of white stuff spurted into her mouth.”
“Baby juice,” said Becky.
“Baby juice. A man puts his prick in a woman’s cunny until baby juice comes out of the end of his prick. It goes into the woman and a baby grows inside her.”
“Who told you that.”
“Polly White. Her mother told her about it when Polly’s sister, Emma got pregnant. So where did all the white stuff go?”
“Dunno, she must have swallowed it.”
“How do you know it’s yuck? It might taste of strawberries.”
“I doubt it,” laughed Becky.
“Well anyway, on the last night before we arrived in New York, the girl I’d see the first time came up on deck with two black men. This time they both…”
“Up! We ride,” shouted Itzachu, already on his horse and holding his arm out to Becky.
They rode fast across the desert which changed from cacti to scrubby creosote bushes. They seemed to be heading for a solid wall of rock which was silhouetted again the stars. A mountain range spread before them, maybe ten miles from left to right. Surely they must turn one way or the other? But no, they kept riding towards the rock no more than two hundred yards away. Becky was confused but then could just make out a gap to the right. From a distance, the rocks blended together making it impossible to spot the gap.
They climbed upwards through a canyon for maybe a mile until they emerged into a level area studded with stunted pines and scrub oak. Three campfires lit the area. It was obviously a camp, not a village. There were no women, c***dren or a****ls apart from a single scabby dog. Around a dozen men and teenage boys surrounded them as they entered.
The whooping and hands touching their legs frightened both girls at first but Itzachu and Biminak didn’t lower them to the ground until things had calmed down. An older man stepped up and said something in a normal voice which made everyone back away. With surprising care, they were lowered to the ground.
Itzachu spoke to the older man who listened, nodding occasionally. The girls heard their names but didn’t understand anything else. The man looked angry and appeared to tell the group off before slowly circling the girls, finally stopping in front. Itzachu said, “Uncle… Adacheis.”
The man pointed to his mouth and opened it. “I think we’re being inspected,” said Charlie, “I think he wants to check our teeth, we’d better do as he says.”
Satisfied, Adacheis pointed to Itzachu and spoke rapidly, then addressed the crowd which dissipated. Itzachu looked crestfallen but nodded. He pointed to a flat area under the trees and said, “We sleep.”
“We?” said Becky.
Itzachu nodded, said, “We,” and walked away. The girls sat where indicated until Itzachu returned with blankets, water, some sort of cornbread and more jerky.
“Well at least we’ll be warm,” said Charlie, “These are our blankets.”
“I need to pee,” said Becky to Itzachu. He looked puzzled until she squatted and made a pissing sound. With a sigh, he led them downhill to a sandy area. Picking up a stick he sc****d a hole and handed the stick over. Before walking off he pointed down towards the canyon they’d come up and said, “You run, you die.”
After scr****g another hole the girls squatted next to each other. “If the circumstances were different,” said Becky, “It would be quite beautiful here with the rocks, the stars and the moon.”
“I need a shit,” said Charlie, “There are no rags.”
“I’ll get you some dried grass,” said Becky.
Following the glow of the campfires, they found their way back to Itzachu who was sitting cross-legged where they were supposed to be sleeping. There were three blankets laid out. “You’re sleeping with us?” asked Becky as she knelt and ate some bread
He nodded, “I guard you. I resp…, respon…”
“Responsible?” asked Charlie.
“Yes, I responsible for you. I took you.”
“Why was Adacheis angry?” asked Becky.
“Me, my brothers, my cousin’s, we hunting party not raiding party. He angry white men might follow. Tomorrow I take you to Chiricahua. Not job for warrior.”
“Chiricahua?” asked Becky.
“Our home. Water, grass, food. Two days.”
“My mother, Gouyen, she decide. Eat, sleep.”
The girls spent an uncomfortable night on the ground but slept nevertheless. Itzachu awoke before them and after his morning toilet sat watching them in the soft dawn light. He’d never seen identical twins before. Yesterday he hadn’t really had time to study them but now realised that under the dirt and dust they were quite beautiful. Smiling, he suddenly realised that he had no idea which was which.
Biminak squatted next to him. “When do we leave?” he asked in Apache.
“Very soon, brother,” said Itzachu, “We must cross the salt flats early. We will take extra water bottles and fill them at the spring. Has uncle calmed down?”
“I think so. I explained that we covered our tracks and observed from the creek bed but he still says we should not have done it.”
“But that won’t stop him taking the rifles, whisky and jewellery,” laughed Itzachu. “Come on, let’s get them up and get this over with.”
Riding behind them again, the girls sat on blankets to make the ride more comfortable. The worst part was the salt flats, though they appeared to cut a corner rather than go straight across. By noon the sun was too hot so they took shelter in some low foothills where they again slept. That evening, they rode until maybe midnight when they slept by a stream in a wooded area. The next day was much easier but the girls chose to forgo comfort and used the blankets to shield themselves from the sun. Late afternoon they reached craggy mountains and worked their way up a long valley with tall grass, huge cottonwood trees and a flowing river. There was very little water but debris in the trees showed that it had flooded fairly recently. After another hour they smelled wood smoke. They saw no guards but messages had obviously been sent ahead as they were met on the edge of the village by an excited group of maybe three hundred men, women and c***dren.
Becky watched as Itzachu seemed to report to a big man who she assumed was his father. Be listened carefully before nodding to the woman next to him. She stepped forward with three other women. Smiling and with gentle care, they helped the girls to the ground. “This my mother, Gouyen,” said Itzachu, “Go with her.”
The crowd parted, murmuring, as they were led through trees to a group of domed huts by the river. Gouyen spoke rapidly to the other women who ran into teepees, emerging with buckskin clothing and moccasins. Gouyen pointed to the girls ragged and dirty clothes, then to the river. Another woman handed Becky a brown lump. Looking at it, she said to Charlie, “I think it’s some sort of soap, it smells of sage. I think they want us to strip and wash.”
Charlie looked behind at the group of twenty or so men and boys who were watching. Gouyen screamed something and waved her arms making them reluctantly turn and walk away. Then she pointed at the river and nodded.
“We are pretty mucky and these clothes are going to fall off if we don’t take them off,” said Charlie.
“Okay,” said Becky, “But stay alert.”
Being high summer the river was only about two feet wide but the was enough to have a strip wash. This was nothing new to the girls, they’d not seen a bathroom since Santa Fe. “God, this feels good,” said Charlie as they washed, naked, “My bottom is really sore.”
“Do you want to know a secret?” said Becky.
“Of course,” laughed Charlie.
“Remember this afternoon, when we rode up through those trees and through the rocks?”
“Our horse stumbled.”
“I’d got used to riding behind Itzachu and hadn’t been holding on.”
“Neither had I.”
“Well, when the horse stumbled I had to grab on quickly. I grabbed his prick.”
“What?” said Charlie, “How do you know it was his prick?”
“It was warm and hard. What else do you think it was?”
“Oh god, Becky, what did he do?”
“It felt nice so I kept hold of it.”
“You’re awful,” laughed Charlie, “Do you think he enjoyed it?”
“Oh yeah, he put his hand on mine and started moving it up and down.”
“Up and down his prick?”
“Uh huh, but I didn’t really have to do anything, the movement of the horse did it.”
“So did you see it? His prick?”
“No, of course not, silly, I was behind him.”
“So what did it feel like?”
“Warm, hard but not solid. It was wider at the top. I don’t know how long, maybe eight inches? Something like that.”
“Quite fat, my fingertips didn’t touch.”
“Goodness, and that’s supposed to go in a woman’s cunny?”
“Well, it did with those prostitutes on the ship.”
“I guess so. Then what happened?”
“Itzachu kept moaning then after about a mile warm stuff went all over my hand. I wiped it on the horse.”
“His baby juice?”
“Must have been.”
“I wish I’d done that to Biminak,” said Charlie.
“You like him don’t you?” said Becky.
“Mmmm, he doesn’t say much but he made me feel safe. He knows some basic English words. Every few miles he’d squeeze my leg and say, “Charlie okay?” I taught him quite a few words as we went along – sun, trees, deer, horse, hand, leg, hair, sky and he taught me the Apache words. Kneel down and I’ll wash your hair.”
As Becky knelt in the water, Charlie said, “Want to do something daring, sis?”
“Kneel facing this way, that’s it, bend right down so your hair gets wet.”
“What difference does it make which way I face?” said Becky as Charlie swirled the cool water over her head and hair.
“Because Itzachu and Biminak are watching from the trees on the other bank.”
“What?!” squealed Becky, trying to get up, “They can see my cunny and my bottom!”
Charlie pushed her back down saying, “We want them to like us, don’t we? It’s just a bit of fun plus they can see my breasts and cunny too.”
“Father would take his belt to us if he knew,” said Becky.
“Yeah, well, he’s not fucking here, is he? He rode away and left us to the Apaches.”
“That’s not fair,” said Becky, “They’d have been killed and don’t blaspheme.”
“You really think that Itzachu and Biminak are murderers?” asked Charlie, pushing her back down.
“I guess not,” said Becky, resuming her washing, “But father didn’t know that. Anyway, what are they doing in the trees?”
“Rubbing their pricks.”
“What?” said Becky looking up.
“They’ve lifted their cloth things and are rubbing their pricks up and down like you rubbed Itzachu’s.”
“You can see their pricks?”
“Of course, they’re sticking out.”
“Let me see,” said Becky, standing up.
“No!” said Charlie but it was too late. Becky was standing, hands on hips staring into the trees. She spotted Itzachu first then Biminak. At thirty feet she could clearly see their swollen brown pricks with a bulge at the end. She expected them to run but they just grinned and waved with their free hand. The girls laughed and waved back, then to Becky’s surprise, Charlie waved them down.
“What on earth are you doing?” exclaimed Becky.
“They obviously like what they see, sis. We’re going to need all the friends we can get. They may not be much older than us but they are fit and strong and if it comes to a fight we want them on our side.”
“But they’ve got their pricks out,” hissed Becky.
“So?” said Charlie, “You’ve already played with Itzachu’s until he squirted his stuff out. It didn’t hurt or kill you, did it? We’ll do it for both of them which will make them happy and make them like us.”
“Oh god,” groaned Becky.
The boys crossed the largely dry riverbed, pricks in hand, and grinning broadly until they reached the girls. “You like?” said Itzachu.
“Not bad,” giggled Charlie as she sat on a large rock. Actually, she’d never been so excited in her life. She was going to touch her first prick. Biminak’s was a little bigger than Itzachu’s at maybe just over eight inches. She had no idea if that was big or small but didn’t really care. He had moved closer and was now standing in front of her. He undid something at his hip causing his cloth covering to drop to the ground. Charlie let out a gasp. His thighs were broad and solid muscle, his stomach flat. His cock was sticking up at a forty-five-degree angle from a mat of course black hair. Below, his heavy balls hung down.
Becky, sitting next to Charlie, was equally taken aback as Itzachu fully revealed himself. Although a little shorter, his prick was thicker than Biminak’s and the head was more flared. He had less hair and tighter balls. She remembered how it had felt in her hand on the horse. Now it looked harder than it had felt. Fascinated, she watched it twitch.
Tentatively, Charlie reached out and cupped Biminak’s balls which made him groan. “He seemed to like that,” giggled Becky as she did the same to Itzachu. They were heavier than she’d expected but felt lovely and warm.
Charlie slid her hands upwards and wrapped her fingers around the base of Biminak’s shaft. “It’s got thick veins on it,” she said to her sister.
“So has Itzachu’s,” said Becky, “But look at this thing, how can it possibly fit in a cunny?”
Grinning at each other they stroked the boy’s cocks until Becky said, “So you saw the prostitutes on the ship doing this?”
Charlie shook her head, “No I never saw them do this. They only used their mouths and cunnys and…”
Still stroking and looking serious Charlie said, “One night, the oldest prostitute, I think her name was Annie, came up on deck with that Scottish man, the one we didn’t like.”
“Mister Dalgliesh? The one that kept hitting his wife?”
“Yeah, she was leading him by the hand and was carrying a small clay pot. They had some sort of disagreement. He gave her some money but she said it wasn’t enough. He said she was ugly and wasn’t worth any more. She got angry and told him to go and find a pretty girl who would do what he wanted. Then she said, “Two guineas or you can fuck off mister.”
“Two guineas!” said Becky, “You could buy a good horse for that back home! What was it he wanted?”
“I wasn’t sure but he handed over more money. She bent over, leaning on the side of the ship, and pulled her skirt up. She didn’t have any knickers on. I could see her white bum in the moonlight. He put his prick in her cunny and started thrusting. After a bit, she put her fingers in the pot and reached behind her like she was wiping her bottom.”
“Why would she do that?” asked Becky, enjoying the feeling of her hand sliding up and down Itzachu’s prick.
“That’s what I couldn’t figure out. Anyway, he pulled his prick out and then there was lots of fumbling and cursing. Whatever he was trying to do wasn’t working. He got angry and said, “Help me you Whitechapel whore.” She reached behind and sort of pulled her bottom cheeks apart. That seemed to sort the problem because Mister Galgliesh groaned and Annie cried out as if it was hurting.”
Becky thought for a moment before staring at Charlie and blurting out, “Oh my god, he was in her bottom!”
“How could a prick fit in her bottom?” asked Charlie.
Becky shrugged, “I dunno, perhaps he had a very small prick? He had no trouble in her cunny so that only leaves her bottom.”
Charlie shook her head, “Well nobody is touching my bottom, no matter how much he pays.”
“So you never saw any of those women just use their hands?”
“Nope, not once, sis.”
“But these two seem to like it.”
“Yeah but I never saw anyone on the boat pay for just that, they all wanted the other stuff,” said Charlie.
Becky nodded, “So what we’re saying, is that men like mouth and cunny more than hands?”
“I think so,” said Charlie, considering the implications. She looked at Becky saying, “So that means…”
“To satisfy them, we’ve got to be prepared to do more than just this because satisfying them could keep us alive.”
Charlie looked back at Biminak’s prick, “Well I’m not losing my virginity today,” she said, “I wonder what it tastes like?”
“Nothing I should think,” said Becky, “It’s just skin. Does a thumb or arm taste of anything?”
“I suppose not but his wee wee comes out of it and what’s this clear stuff oozing out?”
“I don’t know,” said Becky, “But it’s slippery. Perhaps it’s to help it go into a cunny? It makes the head go all shiny if you spread it with your thumb.”
“Oh yeah, and they seem to like that. Do you think that the head is more sensitive than the rest?
“That would make sense,” said Becky, “That’s the bit that going to feel most friction in a cunny.”
“Or mouth,” said Charlie. She had to admit that Biminak’s prick was one of the most magnificent things she’d ever seen. It gave her strange feelings between her legs as she imagined her tongue licking it. Feelings she normally only experiences at night when she touches herself there, or when Becky touches her if they’re both feeling naughty. I can do this, she thought. Like Becky says, it’s just skin. But she had her doubts about Becky, she’d always been the less adventurous one. A moan from Itzachu made her look across. To her surprise, her sister was licking the underside of Itzachu’s hard prick!
Becky may have been less adventurous but was more pragmatic. Where Charlie was prone to acting without thinking, Becky tended to analyse and weigh up her options first before acting. To her, there was no choice to make – if putting Itzachu’s prick in her mouth resulted in an improvement in her chances of survival, then it needed no further thought. Pleasure or revulsion was irrelevant. She was satisfied that she’d made the right choice when her lick caused not only Itzachu to moan but also his cock to twitch and more slippery stuff to ooze out.
Itzachu couldn’t believe his luck and knew that the other boys in the village would call him a liar but he had Biminak as a witness and co-participant. His older cousin, Tarak, had told him that some squaws were willing to do this but he had doubted him. Yet here he now was, with a pretty white girl sat in front of him licking his shaft. A pretty girl with firm small breasts, fine blonde hair between her legs and a slim waist. With a little more muscle she’d be perfect, they both would. Then, to his amazement, her lips slipped over his head. It was the most exciting thing he’d ever seen and he could feel his cum stirring in his balls.
Becky was surprised at how much she was enjoying it. The skin on Itzachu’s prick was stretched tight and it’s head swollen and shiny. Even though it was just flesh and skin she felt that it housed great power – life creating power. In her mouth, the head felt even better. She found that if she swirled her tongue around it Itzachu moaned even louder. With her mouth stretched she took more of it, sliding her lips down its thick shaft. Glancing left she saw Charlie’s head bobbing up and down so copied her. Keeping his cock in her mouth, she looked up. Itzachu was grinning broadly, exactly the reaction she’d hoped for.
Itzachu had to steady himself against a tree to his left as he felt his sperm start its journey. Tarak hadn’t told him what squaws did at this point.
As Becky sucked she instinctively cupped his warm heavy balls. To her left, Charlie squealed. She didn’t look, she had her own problems to deal with. Itzachu was grunting and holding her head. His prick seemed to swell even more before spurts of warm cum filled her mouth. Her first thought was to spit it out but her head was held in a vice-like grip and more was coming out, making the situation worse. Fearing that she would choke, she swallowed. It was salty but not particularly unpleasant. With a final spurt, Itzachu released his grip allowing Becky some respite but to her own surprise, she grabbed his buttocks, pulled him closer and kept sucking. A mad craving for more of his cum overwhelmed her. Finally though, and to her sadness, he eased his prick out.
At last, she could look at Charlie. She burst out laughing. Charlie had a look of surprise on her face which was covered in Biminak’s cum. As Becky laughed at the state of her sister, a big globule of cum dripped off her chin. Charlie didn’t seem to mind though. Becky watched her suck Biminak’s prick clean.
Kneeling over the water washing her face a minute or so later Charlie chuckled, “Well that was interesting. Where did Itzachu’s stuff go?”
“In my tummy,” said Becky.
“You swallowed it?” said Charlie looking up.
“No choice,” said Becky, “He was holding my head. Tasted okay.”
Standing, Charlie said, “I know. Biminak gave a big grunt, pulled out and sprayed it over my face. Some went in my mouth.”
Itzachu said, “We go now. Thank you.”
The girls watched them melt back into the trees before they themselves strolled back to the huts where two girls about their age showed them how to put on the buckskins. There was some squabbling among the other women over their old clothes until Gouyen intervened and handed them out. “I guess that’s the last we’ve seen of them,” said Becky.
“Yeah, but these are so much more comfortable,” said Charlie, “And we look good in them.”
Gouyen pointed to a hut and said, “Wikiup.”
The girls shrugged and looked at her. Gouyen walked over, tapped the hut and said, “Wikiup,” again before pointing at the entrance.
“It’s called a wikiup and she wants us to go inside,” said Becky.
“I gathered that,” said Charlie, lifting the flap and going inside. There were a dozen or so young women who pointed at a long log. Every female that the girls had seen had long black hair so as they sat, there was much chatter and stroking of their long blonde hair. An older one spoke sharply before handing out what looked like bone combs. Quietly, the girls sat as their hair was carefully combed. After a while, the women seemed satisfied and began to disperse leaving them with the two girls who had dressed them.
The shorter one pointed at herself and said, “Cocheta,” then to the taller one, “Jacali.” The girls introduced themselves and shook hands which seemed to puzzle the other girls. They all enjoyed exchanging words for hair, eyes, breasts, nipples, ears and cunny.
Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Raised voices led to shouts. Cocheta and Jacali pushed the girls deeper into the wikiup and stood between them and the entrance. The girls had no idea what was happening and held each other. There was some sort of major argument going on. Another girl came in, this one older. She had a knife on her belt and paint on her face. She looked at the two cowering girls before sending Cocheta and Jacali out. “I am Dahteste,” she said, “You will stay here with me until it is safe.”
“Safe?” said Becky, “What’s happening?”
“They argue, about you, the men and the boys. Demands are being made. The curse of whisky. Gouyen will decide.”
“She’s the chief?” asked Charlie.
“No,” said Dahteste, “But she makes decisions over females. Your future is in her hands. We will stay here until dawn when she will make her decision after listening to the arguments.”
The girls were fed and given water but Dahteste did not speak to them again. At least they had soft skins to sleep on. Barking dogs woke them. Charlie opened the flap to find Dahteste sitting outside. She looked up and gestured for Charlie to sit next to her on the ground. Soon they were joined by Becky. In the east, there was a glow of orange. Still, Dahteste didn’t speak.
“We could make a run for it,” whispered Charlie.
Becky shook her head. “Where to? We don’t know where we are and have no food or water. They’d catch us in minutes and it would only make things worse.”
“Silence,” said Dahteste, “They are coming, stand up, do not show defiance.”
The girls watched as hundreds of men and women filed into the open area in front of the wikiup. Itzachu and Biminak stood to one side, their bodies covered in some sort of paint. Gouyen stood in front of the crowd, facing the girls.
As Gouyen spoke, Dahteste translated. “These girls do not belong here. They come from far away. I have considered what threat they pose. There have been many well-spoken arguments but I am satisfied that neither the white men or the Mexicans will come for them. Normally, there would be no decision to make – they would be sold in Sonora but this is not normal. These girls have skills. I believe that one day, the white man will take over these lands. There are more of them than buffalo on the great northern plains. We must not let them swallow us up. We must be able to speak their language and learn their ways. These white girls can teach us. But we are not savages, we are a proud nation. We do not keep slaves.”
Gouyen stepped towards the girls. “I will give you two choices. One – we will take you to Sonora where you will fetch a good price as whores. Two – you may stay here with us.”
“We’ll stay here,” said Charlie straight away.
“Silence!” said Dahteste, “She has not finished.”
Gouyen continued, “You were seen with Itzachu and Biminak, doing things that only wives may do. Therefore, if you choose to stay here you will become their wives and bear their c***dren. You will teach English and white man’s ways, you will be given Apache names, you will become Apache. You will never see your parents again. You have until sunrise to decide.”
Stunned, the girls were led back into the wikiup by Cocheta and Jacali. “I don’t think we need to think it over do we, Becky?” said Charlie.
“No, god knows what our fate would be in Sonora. We’d probably never be seen again and die of the pox. Here, there would always be the chance of escape and if we couldn’t – well, these people look happy and healthy and we like Itzachu and Biminak. There are far worse fates.”
The flap opened and Dahteste strode in saying, “Do you have questions?”
“Do Itzachu and Biminak have any say in this?” asked Becky.
“They have already said, “Yes.””
“But what if Gouyen is wrong,” said Charlie, “What if the Army came for us? Your people could be wiped out.”
Dahteste laughed, “The Army? Any Army? Come into these mountains? It would not be us who would be wiped out.”
“In that case, we’ve made our decision. We don’t need to wait for sunrise,” said Becky.
Dahteste smiled for the first time, “Wait here, I will gather the village.”
The girls hugged as Charlie said, “Like you said, sis, there are far worst fates. At least we’ve got each other. I’m sure we’ll see mother and father again one day.”
A few minutes later, Dahteste called them outside. Everyone was in the same positions as before. Through Dahteste, Gouyen said, “You have made your decision?”
“We will stay here and become the wives of Itzachu and Biminak,” said Becky.
“Then embrace the fathers of your future c***dren,” said Gouyen.
Becky took Charlie’s hand and together they walked over to Itzachu and Biminak who were beaming. As they embraced their partners the village erupted in whoops and shrill calls. From behind them, Dahteste said, “Come, my sisters, there are preparations which must be done before you can marry my brothers.”
“They’re your brothers?” asked Becky.
“Of course,” said Dahteste, “Why do you think I called you my sisters?”
Back in the wikiup, Charlie said, “When will the weddings be?”
Dahteste laughed, “Well tonight of course. Before this day is out, you will no longer be virgins, if my stupid brothers are up to it.”
End of Part 1. Part 2 is not yet completed but is being written. Please subscribe if you would like to be notified of its upload.
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