Outlaw

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19th Century woman crosses paths with dangerous outlaw.
2.4k words
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Mary had always enjoyed the solitude of train booths. A simple space in which she had no responsibility. She enjoyed being able to slouch and behave as she liked, resist nothing and answer to no one while being carried to her destination.

That solitude was broken when a man entered her booth, and sat across from her. He set down his bag. He sat back to get his breath back, as he was clearly flustered as if he'd just exerted himself. His demeanor changed when he saw Mary. She was a consciously beautiful woman, and whenever in the company of men experienced the usual lustful stares. 19th century America could be a dangerous place for a lone woman. She wore a patticoat under her floor length dress to help conceal her legs to avoid further attraction to voyeurs. A tightly fitting corset top did her no favours in that department, as it pushed up her full breasts while clearly displaying the way her slender waist splayed out into wide, round hips.

Her current nuisance of a voyeur removed his coat to reveal a half undone shirt. He had the look of someone who generally received little resistance from females, and didn't pay much attention if there was. Mary tried to avoid his irritating stare, but eventually gave in glanced over, avoiding eye contact. He was gazing, blatantly at her chest. It struck her, that his face was familiar. She attempted to piece together what else she had seen that day to figure out where from, however found that she had looked at him for too long, and the man now felt confident.

"Pretty lips," he leered.

"Excuse me," she purred in a sultry southern drawl.

"You got pretty lips."

"Uh," she grunted, realising the extent to which her solitude had been broken.

Suddenly he was across the booth and had his right hand on her face, squeezing her cheeks. He put his left hand under her skirts and threw them up, revealing her stocking clad legs and silk underwear. His hand ran quickly up her thighs. They were smooth and shapely and appeared welcoming. The man didn't notice their girth and firmness. Her thighs were full and stretched her stockings as far as they would go. There was little fat for cushioning, as her thigh muscles tensed upon his touch.

"Let's see how nice they are," he growled and went to unbuckle his trousers. Mary audaciously slapped his hand away from her face and threw herself backwards, her skirts falling back over body, revealing everything below her waist, from her calves which popped out, straining against her stockings, up her luscious thighs and to her inviting crotch, all the joy in Texas concealed beneath a piece of silk.

"What's the matter," she pouted, "'fraid of what's down there?"

He grinned, seeing yet another woman didn't need forcing. He crawled atop her bench and over her body. His face inches away from her legs, her crotch, her corseted middle, her prominent breasts until their lips were facing. He had a wiry, hard frame, in contrast to her full bodied figure. Her legs moved up until her knees were just under his shoulders, then slowly embraced his torso. He gently kissed her pouty, painted lips and smelled her hair, his hand reached down to carry on unbuckling but her thighs were covering his waist and lower ribs, hugging him close to her. He tried to move the relaxed right leg with his hand but it did not move, so he went to reach around it to find his belt. The pair of legs that cradled him lovingly began to show maternal discipline. A slight tensing on each side giving a disregarded warning of their power. This was the man's first warning that as soon as he had allowed Mary's legs to embrace him, his fate was sealed. Mary crossed her feet and began closing her legs together, ever so slowly. The man felt his breath go, and he grunted as he searched for it. Mary was breathing heavily, her chest heaving right under his nose as she lay back and smiled, letting out a slight giggle at the look of discomfort taking over his face. He made a more concerted effort to pry her legs apart, intent on surviving while still maintaining an image of being in control, but her thighs continued to close around his torso, her calves popping out as the crossed feet locked him. Her legs were not yet straight, and she had more power to apply, but several seconds had gone by since the man last breathed, and it was enough time for panic to set in.

He began openly struggling to move these two tightening pillars from around his body. He could see how relaxed his victim-come-tormentor was, and how helpless she was beginning to make him feel. His increasingly desperate efforts to free himself bore clear contrast to her effortless, almost sleepy state. This damzel with ringlet blonde hair was illustrating his inferiority to him through the ease with which she had him imprisoned. Her hands began sensually, patronisingly stroking his face. He wanted to strike her. Her beautiful face was mocking him with its lack of distress, with its smirk and confidence. Those half closed eyes and smirking mouth were making him feel like a chastised child. He knew he was too weakened at this point to do a thing. Her legs stretched out above her fully, long and strong he was locked between her thighs and his body was being held aloft while the air was banished from his body, and his ribs bending inwards. Internal organs were beings abused and pushed into the wrong places. His pain grew and grew as Mary got increasingly excited. She wanted to deliver all her force and crush this wiry man in an instant but relented from her desires to draw out his torture.

He turned his head back and tried to yell for someone to see what was happening and help. What came out was a high pitched, desperate, choked bark of a yell in a voice he didn't recognise. She giggled and he felt his ribs pushed in once more. Along with his oxygen, his bravado that defined him was forced out. Upon seeing his desire to cry out Mary pulled his face into her ample bust, holding his now helpless face tightly between her large breasts. Muffled cries for mercy flails of limbs became infrequent and then were gone, as his body rested limply. Mary cautiously released all power over him and allowed his unconscious body to flop onto the floor of the booth. She stroked her stocking clad legs with pride and smiled.

When the man came around from his induced sleep the first things he sensed were the gentle rumble of the train, and Mary's gorgeous scent. Sweet and feminine. His throat was pressed against the back of Mary's knee, whose left leg was curled, threateningly around his neck, with her right leg hooked over her left foot to provide leverage. She was relaxed, but her thick left leg still engulfed his neck and head. His body laid out ahead of him, weak and beaten. He felt pain course through his whole body. His neck and head felt vulnerable, held by her leg. He could feel her stocking rub against his neck and face, the silk of her underwear against the back of his neck. he grunted upon waking.

"Morning," her sultry voice mocking his helpless situation. "I thought I recognised you when I saw you. You're sorta famous. I've seen you on posters. You're not a movie star. You're wanted. You wanted to leave at the last stop but we're going to town, I'm collecting a reward for you."

At this point he began to try and move his now uncoordinated limbs in some attempt release himself. Mary casually drew back her right leg and her left instantly closed his throat. He stopped moving and she relented.

"Relax," she said. Mary put her hand on his forehead, without force and lay back. She opened her legs and he saw his torturers unfurl and stretch out above them. They seemed to carry on almost to the cieling from his perspective, head resting on her crotch while her hand toyed with her hair. Those smooth, attractive legs suddenly looked particularly powerful, and with notable muscle tone beneath the cushioning. Mary unclipped her stockings and removed them. He saw her skirts dumped in the corner of the booth. He felt the texture of her stocking over his face as she tied one of them over his eyes.

"I like squeezin'. Do you like squeezin'?" teased Mary. He shook his head a few milimeters from side to side, her thighs allowing no more movement than that.

"Ok then, you do exactly as I say and you don't get squeezed."

The man felt out of body as he weakly nodded. This beautiful victim rendering him nothing more than a plaything.

He stayed laid on his back as she got up and stood over him. She slipped off her silk undergarment and let it land next to his head. Now wearing only her corset top. She stood with a foot on each side of his head then squatted down, her powerful legs balancing her effortlessly over him. Her legs framed his view, above which were her breasts, over which peered her face. Her bare crotch lower towards his face. The end of his nose was tickled by her blonde pubic curls and his tongue protruded towards the pink folds of her pussy.

"Not yet."

Mary stood up and turned around, before squatting down again, filling the man's vision with her large, full behind. He saw something he was so used to taking, grabbing, slapping and punishing bear down on his face. At first she maintained her weight on her feet, allowing his nose to tickle between her round cheeks. She pulled them apart with her hands and lowered her rectum over his mouth.

"What's the matter, don't know how to French kiss?" she purred.

"P-please," he spluttered pathetically.

"You must want another big hug..."

The pain of the last hug she gave him still filling his body, his tongue obediently reached for her anus. Mary responded by taking the weight off her feet and sinking her posterior on to his face. His tongue intruded and she gave a moan of approval. Her hands helped him go deeper by prizing her work-honed cheeks apart and deepening the penetration. The weight of her sitting on his mouth pushed his jaw open uncomfortably. As his tongue moved up and down and she gradually rode his mouth, grinding against him. As her moans grew in intensity she stopped grinding and sat right down on him, smothering him mercilessly. She released her buttocks to close around the cheeks of his face and tensed them together.

"Feel good, having someone grab you by the face? Like you did to me? Like the way it feels?"

A pained groan from the man.

"I know what you're wanted for. What you do to women. Don't go expecting mercy. I'm enjoying myself. Tell me why I should stop."

Mary raised herself from his face.

"The bag," he spluttered in desperation.

Mary, completely in control stood up and left him on the floor to peer into his bag. From his place on the floor he heard her unbuttoning his bag and walking over him back to her bench with much its contents - money - and placed it in her hand bag.

"Please, it's all I got.."

She just giggled, "Not anymore. Get on all fours."

Broken, he did as he was told. Headbowed, he awaited his next ordeal on his hands and knees. Mary knelt down with his bowed head between her thighs and facing his back.

"Drop 'em," she ordered.

His shaky hand blindly fumbled at his waist and unbuckled his trousers, letting them drop to the ground. Her thighs on each side of his head were not gripping, just existing on each side of him, provided an intimidatingly secure presence all around him. In Mary's right hand was a tool she found in his bag.

"I heard about what you do with this," she said. It was close to ten inches long with a handle and Mary leant over and placed it between his buttocks.

"Tell me if I'm not doing it right, honey!" she mocked.

The man, at this point, could only weep. Mary pushed the tool into his anus and he grunted. She penetrated all the way then slid it back out and continued doing so, increasing speed. With the increased speed came an increase in his grunts, which became cries.

"Not so loud," warned Mary. He could not help himself and continued to border on wailing as she pumped his rear mercilessly.

"I warned you," she said, and closed her thighs together, immediately silencing him.

She continued to pump his rear as his body began failing him. As he began to lose consciousness, his humiliation was completed as he involuntarily ejaculated onto the floor.

"Poor baby."

Their clothes back on, saving for Mary's silk underwear, most of the rest of the journey was spent with the man under Mary's skirts, servicing her vagina. He could feel the train slowing down and moved to leave his current place of worship. Just as he felt as if the ordeal was over those always sadistic, soft, smooth legs turned to iron once again and gripped his head. He heard Mary's voice call out and someone entered the booth. He heard explaining that he was a wanted man, and to get the nearest official at the station, and that she had him under control. The presumably shocked ticket inspector left hastily and the man began writhing and wriggling desperately, his freedom in the balance he fought against these cursed limbs. They were just legs, nothing more, not even straining, they held him so tightly he may as well be in jail already. Suddenly they loosened and she pulled him up so the two of them were almost face to face. Her legs rewrapped themselves around his body and she stroked his hair with her hand and pushed his face into his chest.

"Please, ma'am, please! You have my money, you done all that to me, please just lemme go," tearfully he begged. "Please, I'll get the gallows, you gotta let me go!"

He wriggled desperately with all his strength and she casually held him steady, holding his face to her her bosom like a hurt infant.

"Shhh baby, soon enough."

And the bad wolf wriggled pointlessly between the legs of the damzel in distress as she awaited her reward.

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8 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago
Bravo!

Nice work. Yes, there were a few errors, but I sincerely enjoyed the concept as well as the story. Write a few more similar to this and I'll read them happily.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 9 years ago
my all time favorite

Wow. Loved it. You've created a dark hero in an ordinary everyday character. It has the surprise of a pleasant twist. She is a Django of her own struggle, effortlessly able to turn an oppressor into a notch on her belt and i applaud you, author. I like your writing style and this entire work you have submitted.

dokeydarlindokeydarlinover 9 years ago
love this!

Great twist!

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
"Movie star"?

There were no movie stars in the 1800s. I don't know if English is your first language, but if so, your spelling and punctuation are very poor. Please get an editor.

chytownchytownover 9 years ago
Thanks***

For the read.

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