Old Barns

byjmanteau©

A haze crept across the valley floor as I crested a ridge on the northwest border of Tioga County. The morning began bright and cool. The summer was still clinging to the seasonal calendar despite the equinox passing but by lunch time, autumn awoke and pushed back with cold wind and a threatening sky. I watched the changing sky. The dark clouds were gathering in a conference but I calculated an hour or two before they agreed to a plan of attack. I leaned against an aging maple watching the sky while tugging a drink from my water bottle. The tree remained steadfast in supporting summer's grasp by showing leaves still glistening green with only a few spots of gold etchings. I surveyed the valley before me. To the east stood rows and rows of beautiful hardwoods. Trees holding the history of the area and the secrets for every traveler. To the west, I spotted some dairy farms and the county road. Pristine country visages painted against a canvas of green fields and rolling hillsides. A point to the south offered a small river or maybe more of a creek meandering through a grove of plantation trees. The area was probably private property but locals didn't fuss much over hikers. I kept to myself and didn't impact any planted fields or livestock so I was rarely stopped. I readjusted my pack and left the hillside behind me. The grove was a good mile or more from where I stood and its idyllic arrangement of trees and creek suggested a perfect lounge spot for lunch.

About halfway to my destination, I discovered my estimates on the growing storm were off. First, the low grumble of mischievous clouds forming together warned me of their rapid descent. I could smell the rain in the air. The stand of trees was still a half mile or so and while I originally was hoping for a lunch spot and some shade, I now needed shelter from the storm. I backtracked up the incline and surveyed the area. Before the storm clouds curtained the final sun rays, my eyes spied a glint streaming from a pile of metal. I headed towards it knowing that in these farm areas metal means the possibility of a shed, tractor trailer or hopefully a barn; any of those were enough to protect me from the rain. The merging clouds burst into an initial splattering of drops, just enough to cool me off and dampen my clothes. I picked up speed and headed in the direction of the metal, praying for a shelter. As luck would have it, an old barn appeared as I drew up. I moved too quickly to totally take it in but would definitely plan for pictures or sketches after the storm passed. Right now, my focus narrowed on the avoidance of getting soaked which is a serious threat to hikers in the fall as the weather changes rapidly and hypothermia results.

As I rapidly approached the barn, a side door offered an access. Half off its hinges, it hinted to me to push inward. I edged my way inside right as the sky exploded with lightening. Heavier raindrops pelted the metal roof creating a symphony within the barn. A shiver struck me. I needed to change my clothes before I got cold. I entered the barn to wander some and get to know my surroundings for my brief stay.

It was definitely in the centennial age range. A early 20th century row crop tractor sat in one corner. The metal seat still in position. A pot belly sat with it accompanying by a large circular saw blade resting against the outer wall. The flat metal was often used to reflect heat. The lower floorplan offered open stalls and bays for equipment rather than livestock. There wasn't much left on the main level so I climbed the ladder to explore the loft. At one time, it provided a great deal of hay storage but now only a few bales littered the worn floor boards. I spotted some old canvas tarps and dragged them over to the upper doors. I cracked one so I could watch the rain. It was coming down in torrents or at least the tin roof echoed it that way. The sound consumed the barn's interior like a rock concert.

I opened one side of the loft door and watched the rain. The old barn wood framed the landscape below. It reminded me of black and white photographs. I shivered again. My pack had an extra shirt which I hung on the door latch while I pulled my damp t-shirt over my head. The material fought against my efforts causing me a momentary entanglement. "Here," a male voice said, "let me help you with that." Startled, shocked, surprised, stunned, I couldn't move or see the owner of this voice. He helped me pull my shirt over my head but trapped my arms inside by twisting the shirt back over my shoulders and behind me. It was an impromptu straight jacket. I tried to turn but a strong hand firmly secured my head in a locked position facing out the window.

"Don't be scared," the voice whispered. His open palm held my head, his free had stroked through my hair.

"Amazing view," he said in my ear. His hot breath hit my neck causing a shiver to erupt. Screaming would be pointless. I controled my breathing and forced my mind to remain calm. He slid the coated rubber band through my hair releasing my curly tresses. The breeze from the open doorway caught the loose curls and sent them scurrying across my face. I was helpless to push them back into place but his hand brushed my cheek and gathered the wild strands. I heard an low intake of breath. Did he just smell me?

Originally, to remove my shirt, I was sitting upright with my back straight. He took advantage of my position to sit directly behind me. I felt his strong thighs on either side of my hips. His pelvis pushed up against my lower back. I shivered at every touch of his hands which were now grazing my bare flesh. His fingers reached the edge of my spandex bra which was also wet from rain and barely held my breasts.

"You're cold. Let's get you free of this damp material." Not that I had much method of resistence, I relaxed and acquiesced to the strangers imposition. He pulled the bra upward and away from my breasts leaving them bare to the cold breeze blowing in. Raindrops periodically ricocheted from the edge of the barn so the splashes graced my exposed skin. My nipples were hard and exposed so he cupped them both with his warm hands. I closed my eyes to focus. In my head, I could hear my yoga coach telling me to lengthen my spine and push off with my hips. To do so, I needed a full breath. I begain to intake when he moved my hair away from one ear, "don't fight me," he half-whispered.

His voice was seductive and rather calming. He rubbed my breasts with the palms of his hands. Up and down across my chest. He touched my face and massaged my arms until he came back to my torso once more. A mental conflict prevented the relaxation intended by his movements but my body reacted to his ministrations. I let out a quiet breath then felt his lips agasint my neck. His thighs left my side but before I could shift or react, I heard the rusty squeak of a pulley long neglected.

"I'm going to take your shirt. Are you going to allow it?" The sound of the pulley was still in my ears causing me some panic and questions. I didn't say anything but did not resist as he pulled my shirt away and managed my wet bra off of my neck. He positioned his hand firmly atop my head and applied a slight pressure. Just enough to restrict me from turning around but not to cause any discomfort. The pulley squeaked again and I felt something brush my shoulder. It felt like leather but I didn't turn or look. I sat still and waited.

A milking stool appeared in front of me seemingly out of nowhere. He asked me to remove my boots. I hesitated. "I asked you to please remove your boots." He sounded less seductive and more stern with that statement. The item from earlier brushed my shoulder. It was definitely leather. Perhaps reins or a rawhide lasso. I pondered whether he would use it to hit me as I stood and leaned forward using the stool for balance. I took my time to unlace my boots removing one slowly, then the sock, then switching to the other and unlacing it. Why am I prolonging the inevitable? I stood barefoot on the canvas tarp glad for some protection from the splintering barnwood below it. The window view remained the same as I stared out watching the black overtaking the gray. An hour had passed since arriving at the barn and it was now dusk although the storm clouds caused some time confusion.

"Nice," he uttered with a reflective tone of someone studying a painting. He was right behind me. I tried to estimate his height but could only determine a larger build one that I could probably not overpower. He already out maneuvered me on every level plus he controled my clothing. His hands massaged my shoulders, then my arms and finally reached my hands. He held them momentarily then pulled them up above my head. The move was sudden and surprising. It caused me to lean back allowing him to fasten a wide leather belt around my lower torso. My hands were wrapped together in rawhide, the kind used to braid lariats. Neither restraint was tight or uncomfortable; just secure and prominent. I fully understand his message: I am not going anywhere. He moved away from me and at first, I felt the sensation of falling backward but the band around my torso caught me. I was leaning at an angle and it was oddly comfortable. My arms bent at the elbows creating a support for my head while the rawhide kept my hands close together. I was bound in some kind of swing ensemble.

The room went dark or the world did. I panicked. I thrashed against the bindings but the belt tightened against my midriff and the rawhide contracted to the point of pain.

I screamed, "let me go, let me go, let me go!" My cries grew louder and louder until I was near screetching. I continued to thrash like a wild horse bucking against ropes but his hands gripped my shoulders and he nuzzled my hair.

"Looks like the blindfold was a bad idea," his voice was soothing and calm. He then removed the loose hood he used to cover my head. I was shaking violently and sobbing as my angry outburst reverted to tears. He caressed my body and kissed my cheeks, neck and shoulders. Then, he wiped my face with a soft cloth either a hankerchief or bandana. It smelled clean. "Shh. My apologies." He kissed my lips gently and pushed my hair back while looking into my eyes.

"Release me." I stated this firmly and forced myself to be rigid against the restraints.

"No. I want you and now I have you."

His response sent pulses through me like an electric charge. It wasn't the phrase itself but the way he said it. His tone was definitive. His face held a determined expression of power and lust.

I relaxed some but anger now flowed where arousal once trickled. He continued to touch me. The contact was somewhere between a soft caress and a tension relieving massage. I could feel my desire building like a flood quenching the angry fire. His massaging efforts traversed my torso downward to my hips and ass. He worked on each side rubbing and massaging the muscle occasionally slipping a hand around inside my thighs. I could feel the wetness forming between my legs as my body reacted to his sensual touch. His warm hands moved around my waist unbuttoning my pants. The zipper released at the same time causing my pants to drop from me. Cotton panties clung to my skin as the final barrier to nudity but he didn't remove them immediately. He pushed me back gently and my feet left the tarp. He picked up my pants and I caught a glimpse of him or at least his side. His arms were strong, defined but not from body building or weight lifting efforts. They were muscles formed from years of laboring. I could make out powerful shoulders.

After my legs swung limply, I analyzed my plight. I was a captured animal hung as prey. The predator was using seductive measures to secure my fate but I was prey nonetheless. He moved behind me then I watched the barn door closing in front of me. The barn darkened nearly as black as the blindfold. Before I could react or my eyes could readjust, his lips collided with mine. He tasted of fruit and peppermint and for a moment, I lost myself to him. His tongue explored the inside of my mouth. He pulled it out and kissed my mouth pulling at one lip and then the other. I opened my eyes but his face was gone from my field of vision. His mouth surrounded my left breast and suckled it deeply then pumped it within his strong jaw. The feeling combined pleasure and pain. He gripped at my skin then sucked my hard, cold nipple warming it with his tongue. An involuntary moan escaped my lips. He moved to my right breast and performed much the same act. His hands surrounded the breast and squeezed it like a melon while his mouth pulled and sucked. I went limp under him feeling the belt catch my weight and my head fell back.

He kissed down my middriff. I felt his hot breath against the damp cotton of my white panties. He toyed with the waist band and I froze in place. My mind raced in the darkening barn. Am I a victim? His captured prey? I channeled these thoughts through my mind trying to rationalize the events I am allowing. I felt his face close in on the thin material covering me. What am I doing? This is a stranger seducing me and I am allowing it. I should stop, I should say no and I tried. In fact, I moved my upper body slowly so as not to disrupt or alarm him. I picked my head up and as I did, my lungs inflated just as he pushed his mouth against the crotch of my panties. His teeth grazed my clit through the thin material. He grabbed hold of my panties and ripped them from me. I went rigid from the force and shock. His hands grabbed my hips with fingers splayed across the cheeks of my ass and crushed his face into my pussy. My body erupted in orgasm. I'm certain a reaction from shock, surprise, adrenaline or some other hopefully scientific explanation because I told my brain that this was not good. I managed to exercise my vocal chords but not to utter no regardless of what my moral impulses sent to those chords, I distinctly heard the word yes.

It radiated from my abdomen and echoed through the rafters of this barn. He vigorously lapped as I gushed from excitement. The grip on my pelvic region controled my movements through the involuntary muscle responses. I couldn't move against his mouth. I couldn't thrust my hips forward for different access. I was forced to endure the intensity of an orgasm as he continued licking.

His grip changed and moved under my thighs forcing my legs apart and upward. He replaced his tongue with a hard surging cock that he plunged into my dripping pussy. I screamed again and again. The sounds pushed from my throat after each thrust of his pulsing cock. His hands pulled my skin apart by pushing open my inner thighs giving him deeper access. I was free floating. I couldn't feel the tarp beneath my feet. My back was up and stretched by the rawhide restraint holding my hands above my head. The leather swing supported me as he pushed into my pussy. Thrust after thrust filled me with his cock. The sting of pleasure subtracted any moral confusion from my thoughts and I came again as his skin raked against my nerve endings. There was an explosion as intense as the storm outside. He came. He flooded me with hot liquid. The adrenaline rush, the fear, the assualt, the fantasy-like episode brought me to a pinnacle and I fainted.

The sound of crackling wood and the smell of smoke pulled me from the blackness. When I opened my eyes, I saw the old tractor. The pot belly held a cozy fire. I was still naked but within a wrapping. It was a sleeping bag. I tried to sit up by a familiar hand stroked through my hair and held me still.

"Wait, you may be sore." His hand caressed my cheek and turned my head. Blue eyes twinkled in the firelight before lids hid them from my view. His lips drew down on mine and the kiss was soft, delicate and sensitive. I opened my eyes again and looked at his face. Youthful but somewhat weathered. His eyes were friendly. I couldn't take my eyes away from his. He guided me upright and the sleeping bag fell off my chest. As if he could read my mind, he covered my back with a denin workshirt.

"Are you hungry?" he asked but before I could answer he offered me a tin plate with slices of meat. As soon as the smell penetrated my nostrils, I knew nothing else but a sudden starvation. I eagerly ate what was offered. I looked up at him and he pushed the hair out of my face. He possessed simple good looks and rugged appeal. Yet there was something more, a glimpse of refinement. I needed a drink and started to clear my throat. He was one step ahead offering a tin cup filled with red wine. It was some kind of surreal, romantic picnic.

My mind began to process but he spoke first, "It's my barn. You are on my property."

Again, I was rendered speechless. He took a sip from his own tin cup and smirked at me then offered me more food. I ate and my analytical mind shut down. I couldn't remember any of the questions that were forming. I shivered and he kissed me in a familiar way much like any boyfriend kisses after a long series of dates. His head turned into me and his mouth set perfectly upon mine as if he had done it fifty or more times before now. My plate was empty along with my cup and he took them both away. I wanted to say something but I had no words. He stood and held out his hand. I took it in mine and he pulled me to my feet. He was dressed but I only had a shirt draped across my shoulders. The cold damp air gathered around me to see my naked body flinch and shiver.

I hardly noticed the dirt beneath my bare feet and felt as if I were floating as he guided me across the barn's lower level. We only went a few feet from the tractor and pot belly stove when we came upon an ancient porcelain clawfoot bath. Steam was rising from the bubbles and it looked enticing but I stopped and went to resist.

He laughed at me softly and motioned me towards a nearby crate covered with a towel. As I sat, he took away the shirt and wrapped me with an extremely warm wet towel meant to reduce the sting from heated water on cold skin. I could feel my temperature rising so I entered the tub myself. I forgot everything. My surroundings, the situation. I forgot that I was a captive in some Pennsylvania barn and no one knew that I was here. I forgot that I had no idea who I was with. I just escaped into a warm tunnel of scented hot water closing my eyes and letting the soothing heat penetrate my aching muscles. I'm not sure how much time had passed but I realized that he was gone. I sat up and looked around me. He wasnt in the barn. I saw my backpack hanging from the frame not far from the tub. Then, I saw my clothes. They were stacked on an old kitchen chair with the boots sitting below waiting for me to get dressed and leave.

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