Within seconds he was standing in front of her, and Sabra anticipated him pushing her back onto the bed and callously entering her core. Her channel tightened at the promise. But Taylor grasped her hips and turned her, and all too soon she realized his intent. Once again, he would claim satisfaction with her body and she would be left in aching denial.
The thought of the beast plunging into her virgin hole had her screaming and pleading again, and his hand slapped down on her ass, barely missing the new brand. He kicked her legs apart and walked into their spread while he reached for the back of her collar. He arched her back so she was clawing and fighting for air and ignoring the swollen rod coating itself with her juices, until he let go of her throat, grabbed her hips with his hands and plunged into her ass with one stroke.
Sabra shrieked at the ripping invasion. Her legs flailed, and she fought to pull herself across the bed with her hands digging into the bedspread while Taylor closed his eyes, relishing her painful screams and thrusting into her tight sheath. As he neared orgasm, as his seed stretched the seam in his flesh, he again thought of Sarah with her conservative upbringing, denying him this pleasure. More and more he recognized her shortcomings with the way she had him seduced into half satisfied complacency and the way she had tried to rule him. He screamed his rage when he climaxed.
Sabra curled into a ball, shuddering and sobbing and trying to keep the vacant, fearful stare from claiming her mind and her eyes. Betsy and Emmy would leave her if she gave in to this torment. Taylor merely climbed into bed beside her and was almost instantly snoring softly.
Sabra knew they had to leave soon. She would not be able to keep her sanity if the tortures continued. While working in the gardens the next day, she saw the same unspoken resolve in the other women’s faces. Angie had withdrawn into nothing but a terrified creature, jumping at the sound of the whip being applied to anyone’s body and cringing when the masters yelled.
That evening, Jos and her master were the last two to arrive at the dining hall again, and the doctor’s eyes were now twitching as she stared blankly. Taylor studied her for a long moment until the destroyed slave’s master spoke up. “This whore is weak. It don’t surprise me the stupid cunts would chose her to lead them. Her high and mighty mouthiness has been a bitch. I’m switchin’ with Davy for that little brunette.”
Angie’s terrified eyes opened wide and she grabbed her master’s leg and hid her face. Taylor replied calmly, “No, Henry. She’s the one you wanted, and she was in good shape when you got her. You said so yourself. Davy’s already got his mark on the other girl.”
Henry slammed his fists on the table. “Davy’s a snot nosed punk. He ain’t no kind of master, and look at the little bitch. She’s probably already got him begging to stick it into her.”
“Fuck you, Henry.” Davy had finally entered the conversation. “You know the rules, and I’m every bit a part of this camp as you are. You ain’t getting my slave just cause you ruined yours already.”
Sabra caught glances with Emmy and Betsy while the escalating exchange was going on. All the men and most of the slaves who were still coherent, were watching Henry’s challenge. Both Henry and Davy were standing now, and Henry’s eyes were filled with a rage that left no room for thought or any other emotion. He was clearly insane, and when Sabra chanced a look up at Taylor, the twitch was back and she knew he saw it too. The intensity in his blue eyes held almost a fear, and it occurred to Sabra that he was nervously wondering if this was the culminating effect of their new source of power.
When she looked back at Emmy, she nodded slightly. Betsy was watching the two of them. This was it. They would never have a better chaotic distraction than when this situation finally exploded to a point that the other cowboys would have to step in.
In the end, that was not what it took. When Henry reached for Angie’s hair, Jocelyn’s eyes focused and she ripped the long buck knife out of the sheath attached to Henry’s belt. She buried it to the hilt in his groin, and removed it so quickly he had not had a chance to even register the pain. She quickly rose to her feet. Her next victim was Davy, as Angie clutched his leg first in terror at the man who tried to grab her, and then at her former leader as she approached with wild eyes and spittle drooling from the ring gag.
By now, Henry’s rage was a bellowing howl as he held his injured organ. Davy saw the madwoman approach, and at the last moment, he shielded himself behind his slave. The insanely strong thrust of the knife went through Angie’s back and dug an inch into Davy’s stomach.
Jocelyn withdrew it and stabbed Davy in the neck. It all happened so incredibly fast that Taylor had not had a chance to rise until the knife was leaving Davy’s throat. Jocelyn gave another thrust into Henry’s chest while he was concentrating on his wounded cock.
All the men were circling and yelling in outrage, leaving their traumatized slaves kneeling and quivering until a light came on in first one vacant stare then another, and small hands reached for the knives on the table.
Too late, the men found themselves facing Jocelyn’s mad rage and the advancing armed throng of insane women. The slaves tore into their torturers with such hysteria that the men were constantly kept turning and fending them off. Jos was now focused on Taylor, the leader of the pack of beasts.
In all the confusion, Sabra, Emmy and Betsy sidled to the door, trembling and crying but determined to take advantage of the interference. With the women slashing and biting and jumping on the men, they went unnoticed. They knew they would only have minutes to run.
“Now,” Sabra hissed. “To the cliffs, the way we came in. There’s a path about a hundred feet ahead that leads up. I can’t see where it goes from there, but they will probably figure we’ll run straight and it will give us a few more minutes to figure out what to do.”
The naked women ran for all that was in them, ignoring the rocks cutting into their bare feet and following Sabra up when she found the path. It was some sort of animal trail, and the girls marveled that Sabra had noticed it at all. The horses would not be able to follow them, because there were roots and outcroppings the young women had trouble negotiating.
They were almost at the top when Sabra heard Taylor’s voice bellow, “Where are you, slave… I will rip your tits off if you do not return.”
Sabra shivered and kept scrambling over the top. They were gulping air and sobbing as they rested for just a moment to decide what they should do next. Emmy laughed shakily and held out her hand. She had managed to grab her master’s buck knife and three steak knives from the table.
Betsy laughed nervously, “I believe the sentries are otherwise preoccupied in the dining hall.”
The women hugged and cried for a few minutes, and tried to compose themselves. “We’re lucky there is no moon. It may be morning before they figure out what path we took,” Sabra said.
Emmy replied, “Maybe even longer. Two of the girls ran out right after us towards the stream. With all the footprints on the path, they might figure we all decided to try to hide our trail in the water.”
That was a stroke of luck, and exactly what had happened. Five of the slaves were dead… including Jocelyn and Angie. Dave and Henry were dead, and three more of the masters were wounded so badly they could not join the others on the hunt. It had to be delayed until morning because of the lack of light and tending to the business in the dining hall. Taylor was not worried. With the men’s superior skills, the slaves would be captured quickly. He rubbed his crotch as he imagined the punishment he would perpetrate on his slave.
In the morning, one of the cowboys said he had seen a slave head towards the stream, so they focused their seething anger on collecting their property. Of course the stupid women would think they could not be tracked in the water.
It took them until late afternoon to find one of them. She had somehow broken her leg, and the knife by her hand had scored lines down the veins in her arms. Her owner dismounted and kicked her in frustration to see if there was any life in her.
The next one was located an hour later. She stood in the stream facing them, her insane eyes rapidly blinking from one cowboy to another while she laughed and threatened them with her knife. Eddie climbed off his horse and tried to approach the woman he had abused for four months. He began talking to her like he was calming a frightened colt. “Come now. Calm down. Everything is all right. Just come to your master, my slave.”
She straightened and looked him in the eye. “My name is Debbie Brighten, you bastard.” She swiped the blade across her throat as he charged her.
Taylor paid little attention to the events occurring around him. He looked at the bottom of the stream and noticed no rocks were disturbed and there was no recent sign of passage. Three women would have left tracks in the shallow water, and why would they have left this one behind? It would be dark before they made it back to camp, and the other three slaves would now have a two day head start on them… if the men could find their trail.
One more stroke of luck was on the women’s side. The deer that had made the path up the cliff, had traveled over their footprints three more times to drink at the spring before the men had even considered looking in that direction.
CHAPTER V
Winter 2014
It was more than a week before the women relaxed enough to keep from jumping at every snapped twig or falling branch. They finally admitted to themselves that they had escaped, though they still slept in the trees of the thick woods on the foothills of the mountains.
They had been snacking on berries and nuts, their naked bodies filthy because they were afraid to go down to the open areas of the flatlands to bathe in a creek. The few streams they passed they drank from slowly, but took enough time to make sure they had sated the demands of their arduous journey. Their eyes were shadowed and the minimal diet was depleting their energy. They had to find shelter, clothes and food.
Sabra woke up on her branch and had a clear view to a valley below them. There was a log cabin. It was not very large, but more importantly it was morning and there was no smoke. Chances were pretty good that the structure was empty.
The girls crawled through the long summer grass towards the house, still warily looking around for any sign of life. There were no horses or livestock, and Betsy noted there were no power lines running to the house. It was someone’s vacation home, they deduced, and chances were, with its isolated location, if it were visited it would be during the summer… the time when the event took place.
They were still unsure if the owner had managed to escape to it, or if they had escaped the event entirely by already being there. With Betsy and Emmy either side of her and looking towards the field and the mountains, Sabra sidled up the side of the cabin and peeked into the window. She let out a relieved gasp, “It’s okay.”
It was ‘okay’ because a skeleton was still sprawled out on the living room floor. If anyone had been there since the epidemic, they would have surely cleared it out. The women walked through the cabin and made sure there were no signs of anybody else, just in case. They went to the kitchen and turned on the propane stove to cook canned goods.
After eating their fill, they took turns at the stream bathing with soap and towels from the bathroom, and they dressed in the rugged outdoor clothes of the average sized man, presumably the skeleton. With two pairs of socks, and in Emmy’s case handkerchiefs wadded into the toes, they were even able to cover their feet with boots and sneakers.
They never discussed a prolonged stay at the cabin. It was too exposed, and it bothered them that there was no sign of a vehicle or horse that could have delivered the man to his refuge. Someone might return.
They slept in the trees that night, and returned to the cabin in the morning to pack up food, grab a bow gun and arrows, additional large knives and some rope. They packed them in the sweaters and coats they found in a back closet and left to travel further up the mountain.
All of them practiced with the bow gun and became proficient at their speed and aim. Then, the damn spring broke, rendering it useless. They stared in disbelief at the ruined weapon, and then looked at each other and said in unison, “Deal with it.” The girls had a nostalgic laugh of the many times they had used that phrase on the trek to Wyoming with Jocelyn and Angie, and as the tears of mourning for their friends began to fill their eyes, they brushed them away with determination. They had acknowledged many times that it was their friends’ unwitting sacrifice that had allowed them to escape.
The first snows fell at the end of October, and the girls reluctantly dropped closer to the foothills to try to find a place to spend the winter. They still needed to gather supplies.
They were lucky enough to find a log home, nestled far enough into the trees to be hidden, and obviously empty since the epidemic. It had belonged to Carlton Richardson and his wife and three children, according to the pictures and documents they had come across. All the pictures were of the family snowmobiling, skiing or hunting, so the women decided it had been a winter refuge for them.
They delighted in the new clothing, and apparently Mrs. Richardson was a homemaker supreme, judging by the amount of stored vegetables and canned meat. Senator Richardson was even kind enough to leave a full wood bin stacked neatly by the door.
It was the first time the women could remember relaxing since the change. They played cards and board games at night or read one of the many books in the extensive library. They even indulged in libation from the liquor cabinet. Life was good again, Sabra thought, as her hand ran absently over her cashmere sweater, brushing the silver ring still piercing her nipple.
As the warm weather began to return, the women discussed whether or not to just stay at the lodging. The arguments in the evenings switched sides and supporters, as they longed to find other people… normal people, or feared getting captured again.
They finally decided they would go in search of other people. They did not have to look far.
CHAPTER VI
SPRING 2015
The girls enjoyed the warmer weather while they traveled, keeping to the shadow of the trees and staying at the base of the mountain, but high enough up so they could see the flatlands below them. Other than the skeleton last fall, they had not seen any indication of people since they had escaped from the cowboys.
At night, they usually managed to find a cave, or at least a rocky alcove to camp in. They were still nervous about lighting campfires and did what they could to try to hide the flame and the smoke. For more than a week, they continued to travel steadily north.
Back at the cabin when the warm weather had returned, the women had decided to investigate… for a multitude of reasons… whether or not the epidemic had reached Canada. Nobody had any gripes with Canada, so there was no reason to target it with a bomb. Plus, if the epidemic was biological in nature, which they universally agreed had to be the case, the germ might not be able to survive in the colder climates. Really, what the hell else did they have to hold on to? Sabra thought.
They had located a map in one of the desk drawers and were trying to plot their location when they stopped for the night. All they had to go on were different lakes or streams marked on the map. They wanted to make sure they steered clear of Yellowstone Park because, with the sickness spreading in the spring, it would have been the popular tourist destination’s busiest time of year. They damn sure did not want to run into any survivors that had been camping up there.
The women were pretty confident they were staying to the west edge of the park, until one day at mid-morning they heard a loud roar. They turned towards the sound and looked up. On the other side of the trees they saw the last sputtering shooting sprays of Old Faithful. “Oh, shit,” they said in unison.
“Pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
The girls spun around drawing their knives, and found they were facing three men. The men’s eyes fixed on the weapons and their eyes filled with intensity as they looked back up at the girls. “It’s not safe wandering through the woods.”
> “We’re doing just fine,” Emmy said, managing to keep most of the nervous tremble out of her voice.
The man in the middle was quiet for a moment, studying her. Then he said, “No, I don’t think so.” All three men lifted pistols and shot them.
The men walked over to the women’s prone forms and checked their pulses before removing the darts. One thing about park rangers, they always carried tranquilizer guns in case an animal became dangerous. It took the deaths of the first two women well over a year ago, before they figured out how to adjust the level of the serum correctly.
“These are prime,” one of the men noted. They lifted the unconscious women over their shoulders and walked towards the lodge.
“Colonel got time for us?” the man with Betsy hanging over his back asked the guard at the door.
The young man walked behind him, lifted Betsy’s head, and then let it drop back against the ranger’s shoulder blades. His cock had been inflating since he had seen them crossing the hot springs with their captives. “Yes, sir. I told him you were coming when I saw you leave the tree line. He’s waiting in the library.” The youth held the heavy lodge door open, and the rangers walked by him with their boots echoing off the polished wood floor as they made their way past the area that used to be for reservations, the large open room with the fireplace and plush sofas with stuffed animal heads decorating the log walls, and the restaurant that was now their community dining hall.
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