Torturous Existence

by Candace Smith

  The Indians were on foot, so Sabra guessed they were camped somewhere nearby. Once again she had a collar tied around her throat and she was being led by a leash. Now, they would return to their tribe, triumphant with their procurement of the new women.

  Most of the native women had not survived the plague, and the new Chief who had taken over after the sickness was determined to bring back the old ways. It had been centuries since they had watched the lands being destroyed by the newcomers from across the seas. Their people had been corralled into reservations and their heritage was all but destroyed. The Chief was adamant that the white man would not be allowed to flourish again.

  The group left the roadway and followed a path around a hill. On the other side was a lush, green valley. Sabra felt a surreal numbness of stepping through time as she looked at the teepees scattered around a stream that opened to a small lake. There were a few… very few… women, kneeling beside the stronger Indians. Sabra felt like crying at the despondent stares of the broken women. Like them, they probably thought they would be safe in the Northern-most state, so close to the questionable freedom of Canada.

  They were led down the row of teepees to the largest structure, and once there they were pushed down and knelt in the grass. One of the Indians that had captured them remained outside the hut to watch them, while the others, including the fierce man that had led Sabra, went inside the teepee. Most of the tribe had gathered around them by the time a silver-haired Indian lifted the flap and exited with the other men. He stood before the tribe and said, “We have been brought new women seeking our protection. Like the others, they think they can still travel alone without the strength of a man.”

  The older Indian continued to look at the women, and he noted their anger. “We discovered this side effect soon after the sickness. You are fortunate we have decided to take care of those with the affliction.”

  Sabra’s jaw dropped in amazement and she stared at her friends and whispered, “They think something is wrong with us. They don’t know it’s the men who are affected.”

  The old man ignored her. “Where did you find them, Seth?”

  “Three miles outside of town walking down the middle of the highway. They set up camp ten feet from the asphalt,” he replied.

  The old man smiled and said patronizingly, “You don’t even know enough to hide yourselves.”

  Sabra narrowed her eyes and she studied the man. The intense lustful gaze so pronounced in all of the men was evident, as was a slight tick in the corner of his left eye. His eyes widened a little when he saw her focus on it, and Sabra said, “You know, don’t you? You feel something is wrong with you, and you know what you are doing to the women isn’t right.”

  Sabra anticipated a slap, or a strong hand choking her as she was lifted by her collar and dragged to a post to be whipped. She waited for the explosive rhetoric, berating her for her foolishness in the presence of such power. She waited for some kind of punishment, and what she got was a smile.

  The Indian, Seth, looked down at her with the intense sadistic gleam in his eyes. “I told my father you were strong and willful. We understand that some of your ideas may have been molded and changed while you struggled to survive until you could make it to safety, and that it would take time to help you understand you can relinquish those unnatural ways.”

  Sabra snapped. “Look you bastard, I’ve had enough of chest pounding, arrogant, sick assholes telling me what to do. There is nothing you are going to be able to do to me that will ever make me think of you as anything other than the damaged goods you are, and if you kill me, all of the women will turn on you. You would be better off letting me and my friends go and capturing someone else.” Sabra had tried pleading before and she had tried explaining. She was tired of it, and her fear was dulled by her anger.

  The man’s laugh was edged in cruelty. “A worthy challenge from my woman.”

  “I am not your fucking woman,” she said evenly.

  “My father sees the colors of nature in your brown and red hair and your green eyes. He agrees you will be worthy of me.” Now, he did reach down, and with a steady grip on her collar he raised her to her feet. His free hand traveled to reach inside the front of her loose jeans. A finger swiped through her humiliating wetness and stroked the crease of her folds, while he continued to stare at her with his black marble eyes. “Perhaps I will give into my desire and fuck you in front of your friends and the rest of the tribe… and then there will be no doubt that you are my ‘fucking’ woman.”

  Okay, she had not counted on that. Whipping or a beating, yes, but the thought of him taking her in front of everybody? No… because she knew at some point during the exchange, the angry scowl on her face would change to a look of passion. The Indians would never believe her aroused gasps were also part of the same plague that infected them, and her response would further their belief in their mastery. She tried to resist rubbing her pussy into his hand, and sealed her lips.

  Once more, her mind turned to the familiar task of devising a strategy to escape. She glanced at Emmy and Betsy whose outward appearance was stoic and accepting, but Sabra saw the anger and determination in their eyes. They would make it through this and escape again, and Sabra hoped they would find what they desperately longed for in Canada. None of them had made any plans beyond that dream.

  A big man approached from the middle of the crowd and stood in front of Betsy. He studied her for a moment, and then he turned towards the Chief. “I’ll take this one.”

  The Indian holding Betsy’s collar tightened his fist against the leather. “I captured her. She is mine. Go hunt your own.”

  All three girls noticed the fluttering twitch in the intruder’s eye, and Sabra looked up at the Chief. This new man was huge, and if he became irrational the way that Henry had when he tried to take Angie from Davy, it would be dangerous. The girls looked at each other in silent agreement: this was not the time to try to escape. The slowly shuffled back on their knees behind the men holding their leashes.

  When Betsy began to move, the big Indian turned his back to the Chief and reached out for her, screaming, “You do not cower away from me.”

  Betsy fell back in alarm and used her feet to propel herself backwards while the man holding her leash stepped in front of her. Sabra trembled behind Seth’s leg, and his hand moved to rest on her head and stroke her. She experienced a wash of comfort, something she had not felt from any of the other men that had stolen her before.

  Sabra looked over towards Emmy. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was quivering while the man in front of her also stroked her head. He had dropped her leash and his other hand was resting on the hilt of the knife strapped to his thigh. Sabra saw that Seth was gripping his weapon as well.

  The two Indians continued to glare at each other in challenge. “You can get another one. This one is mine,” the big man repeated.

  The Chief spoke up. “She belongs to Luke. Those are the rules, Samuel. He found her and brought her back.”

  Samuel slowly turned his three hundred pound frame to face the Chief again, and Sabra shuddered at the look in his eyes. “You are an old man, with old ideas. This new world belongs to the strong and powerful.”

  “You dare to question my leadership? You will be shunned and turned away from the tribe,” the Chief answered.

  The big man’s expression turned to an insane smile. “No, Frank, I am the strongest and I will lead the tribe.” He charged at the Chief, and just before his massive body connected, three knives flew into his back, buried deep. Sabra screamed and tried to back away, but Seth’s hand fisted tightly into her hair. She reached up and clawed at him. “Be still,” his deep voice thundered. Sabra continued to fight and scream until he pulled her to a stand and his steady black gaze met hers. “Be still.”

  Betsy and Emmy were both sobbing too, and their men were keeping tight grips on them as they watched Samuel lying on the ground, shrieking outraged curses while he tried to reach back and remove the b
lades. They were reverse serrated in such a way that pulling them out would rip more flesh and be impossible to do without help.

  The Chief said, “Seth, take your women away from here before their minds go. George, get help and take care of Samuel.”

  Sabra struggled against the leash, sobbing hysterically while Seth led her across the campsite. He called back, “George, give my knife to my father.”

  Sabra wailed, “You’re crazy. You’re all going crazy. Please, just let us go.”

  Seth leaned down, opened the flap to his tent and pushed her inside. When he let go of the leash, she scrambled to the furs on the opposite side of the large circle and tore at the leash and the collar. Seth closed the flap of the tent and sat down across from her, waiting until her initial panic subsided to quiet sobs and her arms dropped in exhausted frustration.

  “Come here.”

  Sabra shook her head and swiped a muddy track of tears across her cheeks.

  “Come here, now.” His voice was even and his glassy dark eyes never left her as he began to move towards her. Sabra pushed back into the skin of the teepee, still shaking her head and beginning to whimper. She trembled violently when his hand slowly reached out for her leash. When he began to pull her towards him, she cried harder and tried to pry his fingers off it.

  The Indian continued to pull her away from the back wall of the tent and then quickly looped the tether around her, pinning her arms to her sides. He pulled her against his chest and began stroking her head again. Once more, the feeling of comfort filled her and she began to calm down.

  Seth spoke quietly. “You see that the plague had some delayed affect. It does not happen to all of us. Those that were going to be stricken got the tick in their eyes within six months of the illness. Some of them went crazy quickly. For others, like Samuel… and my father… it has been a slower process.”

  “Samuel began to become irrational a month ago. Father refused to let him go on the hunts because he could not control his urges when we found the women. His own woman almost died from his outbursts and was taken away from him, and the sickness claimed him quicker. Father has been able to control it. He thinks its because he’s aware of what can happen. The agreement in the tribe is once they have gone crazy, they must be killed.”

  Sabra was trembling, but no longer fighting, and Seth saw that she had closed her eyes and was listening to him as he continued to caress the side of her head and her shoulder. “Most of us that are left do not have the sickness. In the old world, Luke was a doctor. He has been studying the changes brought about by the plague. My guess is that you do not understand why I can calm you. Do you know there was a separate delayed impact from the epidemic for the women?”

  She remained still, other than her occasional trembles. “I think you know part of it. By now, all of the women respond to the men with arousal. It is what frightened you earlier. You knew that even if I had taken you in front of the tribe, you would have been wrapping yourself around me in heat. As much as the craziness took time to evolve in the men, so did the second symptom for the women.”

  “At first, all of them fought their desire. Last winter, we noticed the women we brought back could be subdued with stroking or brushes. They seemed comforted, even though they were still scared and angry. Whoever concocted the epidemic did a thorough job in their ingredients, but the timing for the effects was skewed.”

  “It’s natural the men should protect and provide, as much as it is for the women to be cared for. It takes a while for the mental capacities to catch up with the physiology.”

  What was he telling her? That in addition to becoming aroused by the arrogant men, she would also crave their comfort? No, that was not going to happen, Sabra decided. Her head rested against his chest and she yearned to hear more of his deep steady voice.

  “You will do as I ask, and fulfill my needs. I will feed my desire to watch your torment, and you will curl into me for comfort. It is the way it will be now.” Seth had released the leash a while ago, and he was pleased to see she remained leaning against him.

  She was one of the afflicted ones. She was one of the women who would be able to survive the men’s demands without losing her mind and retreating into the world of blank stares and private dreams. He wondered how upset she would be when she discovered her friends were not. The men who went crazy, got the nervous twitch in their eye. The women licked their lips.

  EPILOGUE

  Spring 2016 – Canada

  It is funny how volatile some drugs are to minor temperature changes. When the scientist had left his package in Calgary, he had not considered that the prolonged exposure to the cold could alter the additives to the ‘bug’.

  A few of the women from the south had made it to Canada, and the scientists and doctors studied their submissive behavior and discovered an antidote.

  The women were resilient and strong, and their anger forced a fierce determination to rescue the brutalized women still held captive below the southern border.

  The outraged females checked their weapons and prepared to march south, after making sure that their packs were secured on the backs of their frightened, docile men.

  THE END