Flowing Blonde Scalp

Was this it, then, I wondered. I was too exhausted and glowing from the working of him inside me to fully care at that point. This, after all, was the finish that I had fantasized about. Excerpt that now that he had had me, I wanted him to have me again and at greater length.

I lay there, still panting, and watched him move, in graceful steps, over to where I had left my dress. He lifted it, turned it around, examining it, for a few moments, and then I heard more than saw the rip of the knife into it. He came back over to me with several strips of the material from the dress in his hand. Bending down beside me, me still unable to do anything but stare at him with glazed eyes, with the feeling that my eyeballs were floating in his seed, as prodigious as his explusion had been, he, first, gagged me with a length of the material, and then wrapped the end of another strip around one of my wrists.

I remember thinking, with a bit of relief, at that point that if he was gagging me, he wasn't going to kill me immediately. Even out in this wilderness, he was afraid who might hear my screams from what he still intended to do to me. That thought, though, had me hyperventilating.

He grabbed me by my long hair, then, and, painfully, pulled me out of the pool and over to a small tree bordered by a bed of moss, dragging my body through the wet foliage. He pulled the arm with the bound wrist up to side of the tree trunk, then pulled the other wrist up to the other side, and, wrapping the strip of material around the other side of the tree, bound that, so that I was bound to the base of the tree.

I was on my back, naked. He was still holding the knife in his left hand, and my eyes kept going to that in fear and anticipation. I also was taking looks at that blonde pelt hanging from his waist.

He walked around to below me and went down on his knees. I felt his hands grip my ankles and bend my legs up, spread them, and set my feet on the ground again. He was looking at something intensely. I knew exactly what it was, and I tensed up and arched my back, giving what groan the gag permitted me, when he buried his face between my thighs and began tonguing and sucking and nibbling at my most sensitive parts. He palmed my buttocks to pull me closer into his face and I found myself moving my pelvis against his searching mouth, as hungry for him as he was for me.

I was beside myself with need and want when he rose on his knees again between my legs and I saw the gleam of the knife. I tightened up, knowing for sure now that he was going to disembowel me. But the knife that then sliced into me was his own shaft. He leaned over my chest as he plowed me hard and fast, looking down into my eyes, looking for the fear and revulsion, I suppose.

But I did everything I could to show him the want and need in my eyes. When I lifted my knees and hugged his hips with them and started moving my own pelvis against his in the coupling, I could see the doubt entering his eyes—and the speculation. I was giving him something to consider.

When he lowered his face to nuzzle my breasts with his mouth, I began to hope.

This time he went on forever, pleasuring me to exhaustion before giving me his seed.

He left me there, gagged and bound to the tree; legs open and bent, numb to the point that I had no idea if I ever would be able to close them; panting lightly; nipples and labia swollen; vaginal walls shimmering still. He stood and sheathed the knife—to my relief—and undid his belt. He walked well away from me to lay the belt and loincloth behind a bush. When he stood up, I sucked breath. He was achingly beautiful, majestic in his savagery. I wanted him again.

He strode over to the side of the pool, his steps picking up speed, and executed a glorious dive into the center of the pool.

When he came out of the pool some half an hour later, he walked back over to where he had left his belt and loincloth and brought them back to where he stood below my still-parted legs. He moved one of his feet, and I felt his toe work its way between the swollen lips and find and rub on the clitoris, evoking deep groans from me as the toe, as big as John's bulb, if not the savage's, pressed into my vagina. He unsheathed the knife and let the belt fall to the ground.

He was, once again, in gigantic erection. I moaned my want for him.

* * * *

I awoke to the feel of Morning Dove's lips on mine, and I opened my mouth to the sweetness of the kiss. Morning Dove was crouched over me, pressing our breasts against each other and rubbing the nipples together. I sighed and opened my eyes. I must have dozed off, waiting for The Bull to join us in the lean-to backed into the side of the mountain under an overhanging rock ledge. The separate lean-tos of all of those in the small savage community followed this curve under the overhang on the side of the mountain looking down into the virgin forest of the valley to the west. So well camouflaged were the huts that one would need to enter the clearing in front of their entrances to even know the village was here.

I had known from the first day that none of my own people would come looking for me here.

Morning Dove's lips moved down to my breasts, nibbled at the nipples, and then moved farther down, making me moan, arch my back, and stretch my arms slowly above me and run my fingers over the legs of the sturdy, rustic shelf there that held the family's cooking pots and folded clothing, such as it was. I was laying on furred animal skins in the center of the small shed. The fur always had a sensual feel to it and contributed to the pleasure of the taking. I shuddered and closed my eyes again when Morning Dove's sensuous fingers opened my labia and searched for and found that special nub. Her fingers were followed by her tongue. I was sighing and moving my pelvis up and down languidly, now meeting the flicks of the young savage woman's tongue on my clitoris. She was teething on the nub and then sucking on it, and I experienced my first orgasm of the evening.

It would not be my last.

I sensed as much as heard the movement in the shed and smelled the musky, yet clean, odor of The Bull. I opened my eyes and looked over the flowing, black, straight hair of Morning Dove and saw him standing there, looking down at us. He was naked and had his manhood, already erect, cupped in his hand. There was lust in his eyes, a lust that, thankfully had not diminished over the weeks.

I had been accepted in the village as a worthy trophy of The Bull, but I had participated little in the village life yet, spending most of my time on my back on these furs with The Bull inside me. I had no desire to have it any other way.

At a grunt from The Bull, Morning Dove pulled her face out of my triangle, covered with blonde, curly hair, turned to my side, and moved up to resume taking my nipples in her mouth. I felt the grip of The Bull's calloused hands on my knees as he knelt between my thighs and pushed my bent legs wider. His tongue was searching where Morning Doves had just been, and I was well on my way to a second orgasm. I arched my back again and moaned my pleasure as I felt the bulbous staff head move between the swollen lips. I grabbed the legs of the shelf overhead, knowing from experience that I would need something to help me hold steady.

He didn't enter me immediately. He had learned much in preparing a woman in the last few weeks. The bulb searched for, and found, the clitoris, and he rubbed me there, listening for the deepening timbre of my moans. I exploded a second time. I loved this, but knew that his own needs couldn't tolerate much of it. I reached out for him with my hands, and he leaned over me enough for me to grab his chest on either side, the heel of my hands rubbing on his hard nipples.

His groans were matching mine now and his grip on my knees was painful—but a pleasurable, intimate pain. He lifted my legs up to where my ankles were hooked on his shoulder, and just leaned into me, his staff sliding almost effortless inside me I was so open to him, my little cry elicited more by Morning Dove's putting the pressure of her teeth more firmly on one nipple and pinching the other between her thumb and a finger at the first entry of the bulb into my channel. After weeks of coupling, we were almost a perfect fit, and such was the trained memory of the vagina for his member that it blossomed open at the touch of his bulb at the entrance. He entered me before he was fully engorged and gave me the pleasure of feeling him grow inside me. I reached over my head again to grasp the legs of the shelf, having seen his face, and knowing this was going to be no gentle taking.

He began to work me immediately, increasing in speed and frenzy as Morning Dove kissed and licked my chest and face. I strained to take as much of him as possible for as long as I could hold him inside me, both of us bucking like the primordial beast he was and that I was becoming. At the point of climax, both The Bull and I spurting again and again, our fluids intermingling and flowing down the hardness of his shaft and dribbling down my thighs—a climax shared by all three of us, as one of my hands had moved between Morning Dove's thighs. At the climax, Morning Dove fully possessed my mouth with hers. She was running one of her hands through my long, golden hair, tugging at it, even then reminding me of the danger of the flowing, blonde scalp on The Bull's belt—the promise of what might come if I didn't continue to please him. I had no intention of ceasing to please him, though.

Soon thereafter I was lying there on my back, my legs still open, and my fingers rubbing my clitoris as I turned my head and watched The Bull mounted on Morning Dove, she on her hands and knees, and pumping her anal canal.

Soon he would be doing that to me too, and now I would enjoy it as I never knew I could. The magnificent savage beast was virile and insatiable. He would move between Morning Dove and me throughout the dark hours and still be strong and energetic enough the next day to bring home our meal.

I had returned to the primitive world. All of the centuries of making me civilized had gone for naught. But I didn't care. All I needed was a strong man between my legs, deep inside me. And The Bull was all that and more.

At one time I had thought I would leave, walk back up to the ridgeline and then down the eastern slope to civilization as I had known it. And back to Samuel, perhaps, if he had not forgotten me already and acquired another housekeeper and nursemaid.

I did wonder what he and the others in the community made of my disappearance. Did they just see me as an ingrate who walked away from their kindness after John's death left me bereft and alone in a wilderness? Did any of them suspect how much I needed a man between my thighs? Had they found the torn dress at the side of the brook and the blonde scalp The Bull had left there? If so, what did they make—beyond the inevitable conclusion of the ravishing of my maidenhood—of finding a scalp but no body? The scalp certainly could be taken as mine. The hair was quite similar. But would they even have wondered why the body was taken but not the scalp? Or would they just shrug and add it to all of the rest that they did not understand—and did not want to know—about the noble savage?

The Bull was finished with Morning Dove and was already reaching for me. I wondered how he would take me now—not that I cared as long as he took me. The lengthening and thickening of him inside me was a new aspect to our lovemaking. Both of us—no, all three of us—were learning new ways each day to pleasure ourselves and each other.

I loved the feeling of The Bull growing inside me—not least because it wasn't the only thing that was growing inside me. I knew what quickening felt like. I had been here once before.

And now I knew that I never willingly would leave the close embrace of the noble savage nor the raw savagery of the beast that gave me so much pleasure.