Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 06

Bennett's voice boomed suddenly commanding from the dark. "You touch her and I'll castrate you personally, understand." Accompanied by a meaningful tug on the chain encircling his throat. The woman next to him suddenly aware of his presence, backing hastily away, halted in her tracks by Bennett who was crouched somewhere behind her. "Lie down. Stay here, or my men will have you." Punctuated by a wicked laugh. "He won't touch you." Came the confident remark. Carlos inwardly squirmed, what manner of sadistic game was this? As Bennett departed leaving Carlos bewildered, and Frances afraid, feeling helpless in the dark.

Although Frances had the outward appearance of fragility, she knew the value of discipline, and maintaining her image as a lady of refinement. Possibly the only protection she could avail herself of, and in this moment of crisis she drew on all her parents had taught her. Her upbringing had been a sheltered one, mostly free from the violence and brutality that had laid waste the surrounding lands. Still she was not completely blind to the ghastly atrocities occurring beyond her father's borders.

Her dear long lost brother Renard had often related to her numerous stories of what he had seen and experienced during his travels in the wasteland. Pangs of sadness struck at her then, she missed her lost brother painfully. Renard had disappeared almost three years ago, an event that broke both her and her parent's hearts. Too long missing to still be alive, they had given up all hope of his return long ago. Frances felt the unseen, unknown man nestle down again into the bed. Never in her entire life had she been so close, and unchaperoned with a man, finding at once her whole situation both frightening and most bizarre. Desiring to cry like a frightened little girl, though not having the luxury of privacy, Frances held all her emotions inside.

Thus passed Frances' first night in captivity, a long and sleepless one at that. Thankfully the monstrous man did not return, though she got the inkling that as ferocious as he was, he would not harm her at least for now. Through the entire night she sat bolt upright, skin prickling with the desert cool, not keen to let the musty, unlaundered collection of bedclothes come into contact with her skin. So she shivered and sat, ears straining at every slightest sound. Acutely aware of the man now deeply asleep, only inches away. The longest night of her life, she had always imagined, that dubious honor would have been bestowed on her dreaded wedding night. All the foreboding of her impending betrothal, paled into insignificance beside this.

Finally, the first vestiges of feeble light penetrated the gloomy surroundings. If her situation had seemed bleak in the darkness, they seemed even more so now. As Frances surveyed the sorry collection of relics of a bygone age that littered the dusty, unkempt space about her that barely passed for a crude home. Realizing her parent's plain and simple world looked rich and sumptuous by comparison. Suddenly fearing what these desperate desert dwellers might be capable of, when they sighted her father's Valley of plenty.

That was not all she had to occupy her mind this dawn, finding it difficult, and feeling ashamed, but she could not bring herself to tear her sights away from the attractive young man who shared the bed. So peaceful in repose, slightly curled on his side with much of his nakedness exposed. Finding at once she was both fascinated, and repelled, as she studied him in his slumber. Like her he appeared to be a prisoner, the heavy length of chain circling his neck, his somewhat battered state, and bandaged chest making that all too clear. Frances not failing to take in his athletic, well muscled body, the handsome face, her curious eyes wandering lower to other less modest attractions barely covered by the furs. Curiosity overcoming her then, becoming bold in this new thirst for forbidden knowledge. Assuring herself, he would not know, if she could just take a peek? Ever so carefully, hardly daring to draw breath, slowly drawing back the covers...

A hand shot out with lightning speed, encircling her wrist, forcing the beginnings of a shrill scream. A scream stifled instantly by his other hand, hard over her mouth. "Don't." He pleaded. "He'll come, and it won't be pretty." High color flushed Frances' cheeks as she squirmed. Embarrassed at being sprung. "For god's sake, please don't scream, I won't hurt you. I'm going to let you go now, Okay?" Swiftly she scrambled away, attempting to recover some of her former dignity as she arranged herself in the old chair, as far away from him as possible. Not at all feeling as though she should trust him, he looked just as savage as the rest, in all probability, no better than them either. No, she decided, she would find no ally here. Carlos just stared, dumbstruck, the delicious smell of her still lingering on him. Never had a woman looked so good, and so inaccessible to him. Hardly believing that she had shared his bed, and wondering from where it was she came?

Hot, still days passed into clear, starry nights, the entire encampment a buzz with preparations for an expedition to Frances' fertile, farming valley, which promised easy pickings. The possibility also of a lucrative deal with her father, the price the return of his pretty, unharmed daughter. First they must sight this place Bennett had decreed, and depending on what he saw there would decide the appropriate course of action.

Many long hours had Bennett surrounded himself with his most trusted men, debating all manner of strategies since Gareth and Aran's lucky find. Renard of course among the inner circle, outwardly stoic and impassive, inwardly, frantically seeking some way for his family's salvation. So when the force was selected for the initial surveillance, he made sure he was included. Thus far he had evaded his sister's sights, and that of her female companions. Watching on from afar with sadness as the three once proud and happy girls, bowed to the cruel whims and lewd fancies of these battle hardened men.

Fortunately Frances had fared better, none daring to violate their leader's edict, though it was often apparent amongst some of the men that they were not happy with this arrangement. Especially so with Aran, since he had returned with these startling spoils he had become a changed man. Quick to anger, withdrawn and brooding, making it obvious to all he was angry that Frances would not be his.

Her presence was having a marked effect on all in the valley, but none more so than Carlos. Night and day, with no choice but to spend all his hours in her proximity, drove him to distraction. Not since some of his mother's friends had he lay eyes on such a desirous woman. Raissa paled into insignificance by comparison. Her daily visits he chose to greet with stony silence, glad in his heart that he had finally expressed his true feelings to her that day. Relieved to finally be freed of her stifling emotional bond, when really all he had wanted was just gratuitous release. His body healed as the hot days rolled by, though his heart was hardening, and his mind was a dark tormented place.

In spite of the frenzied activity, and disruption which seized nearly everyone in the camp since Frances' arrival. Warren had felt nothing but inner calm. Though he did feel some pangs of disappointment, painfully realizing that in all probability he would forever limp. The shocking injury requiring he would forever need a cane. Still despite this things weren't so bad, his promise to these fierce men seemed all but forgotten, as the sun filled days drifted on by.

Surprisingly Warren felt more acceptance here than in most of the places he had ever lived. Smiling to himself as he gazed at big Lucy. Watching her ample bosom heave with her every movement, as she expertly made corn bread. Knowing he was looking she shot him a warm smile, revealing her uneven teeth, and to him she was beauty incarnate. Yes, he was happy, in spite of his lowly status as a slave, he cared little. At least in this place he had shelter, food, water, and a woman, plus others for companionship. Very different from his time in the previous harsh settlement where he and his colleagues mostly fought and starved.

Indeed he was better off now than he had been a free man, hurriedly pushing the memories of those hellish days aside. Warren spent the majority of his time helping as best he could with the preparation of the food, a rather endless task. As he sat in the center of the camp he was privy to many human dramas large and small, trying to make sense of all he witnessed in this harsh little community forged by fear and strife.

The midday sun shone brightly and hotly, it was a typical end of summer's day, a prelude to the autumn and the last of the big heat. Not a breeze did stir, with the sounds of the camp carrying far. One of those many days when the occupants felt inclined to quiet, lest all overheard their business. So it was that a hush had descended over all the hardy souls who eked out a meager, uncertain existence in this squalid valley stronghold.

Despite the camp's seeming slumber, many were indeed employed at their various tasks. Raissa and Lucy along with Warren sat grinding the corn cobs to flour, a constant and tedious chore that seemed without end. Raissa's rapidly developing pregnancy had by now become obvious news to all. With Lucy fussing, ever excited by the prospect of impending new life. Having yet again miscarried some weeks previous, the motherly woman now focused all her energies on the new life that Raissa promised to deliver. Bringing new hope and cheer to the camp's slave population.

Raissa had felt surprisingly well during this her first pregnancy, but instinctively she knew she was beginning to slow down. Even the seemingly heartless Sven, along with his handsome brother Aran, allowed her more concessions than was usual. Though she thought bitterly, the presence of those new women had gone far to occupy their ever lustful minds, especially Aran's. Raissa begrudgingly had to admit they were beautiful, though useless when it came to completion of real work. However there were benefits, at least she had been left alone to her own devices, with space to mend her broken heart. It was difficult to even glance at Carlos in passing. Her few encounters with him caused Raissa great distress, finding that she could no longer meet his angry, smoldering gaze, so black she knew not what lie there. He refused to speak, his sullen silence made her feel uneasy and afraid. Knowing that it was her weakness in the face of fear that had condemned him to this new and bleak existence.

It was no secret either to any of the valley's inhabitants, that their fearsome leader was finding his homosexual bents more difficult to sate than in times past. Frequently during the still desert nights any who cared to listen, and those who found themselves sleepless in the early hours were privy to the battle of two wills that took place, nightly in the center of their camp. Raissa was quite sure that the hulking brute ultimately got what it was he sought, it would take a very great man indeed to deny him. Carlos' policy of new found courage for resistance obviously bothered Bennett. Raissa was so afraid that their hard leader would ultimately maim Carlos seriously for his refusals of his advances. Surprisingly enough in all this time he seemed to only suffer the occasional bruise or minor cut, nothing at all like the beating he had first received all those long weeks before.

She had been down as usual to see him this morning, early, as the sun's first lemon rays cleared the valley's rocky tops. He was already up, sitting, bare chested, and barefoot, despite the early chill. Knees drawn up under his stubbled chin, intense gaze searching the far away horizon, with his long raven hair spilling down over his broad tanned back, almost brushing the ground.

There he sat immobile, looking more magnificent and inaccessible to her than ever. Alongside his lithe and muscular form Raissa felt dowdy and unworthy. Standing in silence as close to him as she dared, finding nothing to say that seemed appropriate, yet unwilling to just, duly depart. So she placed breakfast down beside him, fervently hoping for some kind of response. Raissa could see that her healing work had gone well, noting Carlos was almost fully recovered. The only hint of that violent night, a few neat scars, on his back and upper arms. These he would carry always, she knew, sorrow welling in her heart.

Still the stoic figure chose to ignore her presence, staring out far beyond to some place distant that only he knew. The only sign of movement, his slow breathing accompanied by the grinding of his jaw, and the occasional chink of the confining length of chain. She had cried then as she turned and ran away, feeling hurt and discarded, vowing she would never give so openly of herself again. Yes, that was the pain of this morn, and each morning past. Though she felt compelled to persist, doggedly trying to break the unbearable silence, yet she did not succeed.

A few days back in desperation Raissa would do as she had done in some of their more intimate moments. Sit behind him gently teasing the tangles from his thick unkempt mane. Stony silence her only reward, locked away in his bitter world, unreachable even to her. In this uneasy quiet the days passed with surprising speed, and Raissa had by this time all but given up the cause of her tormented lover.

The brightness burned his eyes forcing him to squint through black lashes. The shadows small and sparse as the fiery orb reached its midday zenith. The metal wall at his back hot despite the shade, its rusty patches abrading his sweating skin. Carlos was hot and bothered, angrily brushing aside the multitudes of flies, that would land again almost the very minute he had done so. Life had deteriorated since that fateful challenge, little had he anticipated his failure to escape would have amounted to this penance.

Although he had for the most part made a good physical recovery from the savage beating, with the exception of his still sensitive ribs. His mental state was quite another matter. Never in all his long captivity had a sense of despair and despondency settled on him, as it did now. Retreating from all, even his only ally Raissa, feeling too downcast and melancholy to entertain conversation. Even his appetite had lost its usually keen edge, with his already lean frame becoming even more spare as the weeks passed. Imprisoned in this solitary hell he remained. Existence punctuated only by the cycles of day and night, Raissa's tender ministrations, and Bennett's forced advances. Resisting his nemesis as best he was able, often to the point of strangulation, as his massive abuser took his pleasures on Carlos' resisting, semi conscious form. The morning would arrive signaling an end to his evening's private hell, and again he would sit immobile outside. Dreaming of a freedom that now he was sure he would never taste.

In this manner he passed his days each melding with the next, lost in a sea of sameness, with only the progress of his recovery marking the passage of time in his now uneventful world. Well, an almost uneventful world, excepting the presence of Frances that was. Like every other man there besides Bennett. Carlos had not failed to notice her exquisite charms, and like all the others he was smitten by her beauty, a beauty that none dared touch. The golden woman had all but driven him mad with her constant proximity, a hungry longing burning inside as he watched her every move. Wanting to die of shame each night as he lay beneath Bennett's driving, sweating, bulk. Knowing that she lay curled, feigning sleep mere inches away, frightened in the dark.

During all this time he had not gained her favor or her trust, it was plain that she was scared of him despite his obvious status. Finding every time she was close his voice, long unused would fail him dismally, and he could think of nothing to say. She would look at him appalled and afraid, backing away, and he would retreat, fearing she would scream. With no more than his unrealized fantasies of freedom and Frances, did Carlos pass his days. Little realizing he still had worse to come.