Sioux Slave Page 4

  His furrowed brow told her he didn’t understand her words–at least not all of them.

  “Kill,” she repeated the word in English, and made the sign talk for killing. “My man. Did you kill him?”

  The realization of what she asked crossed his pale eyes and he shook his head. “No, I kill no one.”

  “You lie, wasicu soldier!” She shouted it at him as she stood up. Of course he would say that, now that he was at her mercy. He would plead innocence. “Tomorrow you die!”

  Kimi whirled and entered her tipi. It would serve him right that he die. She stood there a long moment, decided she couldn’t bear to sleep alone in this lodge she had planned to share with Mato. She went the few feet to her mother’s tipi. Her mother was already asleep at the far side of the big lodge. Now Wagnuka raised up on one elbow. “Daughter, what is wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Kimi settled down on her own blanket. “It does seem a shame to kill the wasicu when he is big and strong and the two of us have no man to hunt for us or do heavy work. We should keep him as a slave.”

  “It does seem a waste, but our people do not keep grown men captives. Yet, the soldier would suffer more if he were kept as a slave and worked with as little mercy as most show a horse,” Her mother grunted and dropped back off to sleep.

  The camp grew quiet as time passed and people left the fire to go to sleep. Kimi lay in her blankets, thinking what should be happening on her wedding night with Mato. She thought again of Hinzi, Yellow Hair, spread-eagled and staked down on the ground outside, wounded and in pain, awaiting his death on the morrow.

  He was a brave man, Kimi thought with grudging approval. When she had told the man of his coming death, he had not begged for mercy or showed terror or cowardice. No doubt he would die with the same courage. The Sioux respected a man who could die well.

  Tonight she should be losing her virginity. Instead she slept alone while a big, brawny, half-naked stallion of a man lay staked out on the ground, awaiting her whim. When she finally slept, she dreamed that she went outside and stood looking down at him, pulled the buffalo robe away from his magnificent body. The soldier lay naked and helpless, staked down. He was hers to do with as she chose.

  She studied his big manhood straining against the tight blue pants. Yellow Hair was built as big as a stallion. I was supposed to be given a man’s seed tonight, but because of you, he is dead.

  She felt an unaccustomed stirring where her thighs joined. On this spring night, in many lodges, young wives were sighing in passion as their virile brown men spread their thighs wide and mounted them. But with her blood running hot at the thought, she would be unsatisfied and sleeping alone. No son would take root in her womb tonight.

  Soldiers often used Indian girls for their pleasure, she thought, it was only just that he be used as her docile stud, to give her pleasure; to put seed in her womb.

  Of course. Why not? He was helpless and staked out. Hinzi was no danger to her. She could do anything she wanted with him and no one in the camp would object. It was her right as the dead warrior’s widow.

  The thought both shamed and excited her. Stirring restlessly, she knew she should be mourning for her dead warrior. Yet in her dream she couldn’t control this urge to reach out and run her hand across the soldier’s naked, hairy chest, down to his navel. His white skin was warm to the touch. She felt his pulse beating strongly in his hard belly.

  Or was that her own pulse pounding in her ears? Had she no shame? What was it that drew her to have erotic thoughts about this wasicu?

  She imagined taking out her small knife, cutting away his pants so he lay naked. She imagined that she put her hand on his manhood as it hardened and throbbed. He groaned aloud, writhing beneath her fingers. He was built big, Kimi thought, big as a buffalo bull or a mustang stallion. Surely a male like this one was virile enough to end all those troubled dreams she had had these past months.

  In her mind, she took off her doeskin shift with tantalizing slowness, knowing he watched her undress. She stood looking down at him, as naked in the spring moonlight as he was And he was helpless, staked out for her use and pleasure.

  You are my slave, my captive, she whispered to him as she arched her back so that her breasts jutted out with ripe promise. Ever so slowly, she ran her fingers up and down her own naked thighs, up to stroke her nipples. His gaze followed her hands as if he wished those hands on her flesh were his. His manhood seemed to throb as she went down on her knees beside him.

  You will please me as I order you to do. If you pleasure me enough, perhaps I will give you a trinket as the soldiers do Indian girls they use.

  In her troubled dream, she saw him studying her breasts and he ran his tongue over his lower lip. Kimi took a deep breath, threw back her shoulders so that her full breasts stood out. Do you like them? No man’s hands have ever cupped them, caressed them. Would you like to put your mouth on them?

  Please ... He struggled against his bonds but he was tied securely, as a stallion might be cross-tied to permit his safe use by a mare. Kimi ran her thumbs around the circle of her nipples with deliberate motions and his blue eyes seemed to follow every move.

  Kimi bent over him, reached out and ran her thumb across his nipples and he arched his back and moaned aloud. Please ... oh, please . . .

  She clasped his iron rod of maleness in her hand and wondered if her small body could sheath that hard sword.

  Then, leaning forward, she put one hand on each side of his blond head. That made her breasts hang just above his reaching, eager mouth.

  Kimi smiled at his efforts to reach her breasts. I’m going to use you now, slave. You look like prime breeding stock. This is my first time to couple with a man. I order you to make this pleasurable for me. If you do, perhaps I’ll give you a trinket or an extra coin. If not, I may geld you or take a quirt to you.

  Oh, please, don’t, mistress. I’ll pleasure you; I promise to do just as you ask.

  See that you do, yellow-haired stud. Feeling almost heady with her power over this big male animal, Kimi straddled him and leaned over so his mouth could reach her breasts. She almost cried out in her pleasure at the sensation of his hot, wet mouth sucking her nipples. Yes. Yes. Oh, Yes!

  And now to make use of the soldier’s big sword. For only a moment, Kimi hesitated, looking down at the size of it. He was built to give a woman pleasure. Her body felt wet and eager to be bred. With delectable slowness, so as to make it last, she slid down on him, sheathing his big sword in her velvet place. She felt it hit against the silk of her virginity. She would have to take him deep in her depths.

  Only for a moment, she hesitated. Then she gritted her teeth and came down on him hard, taking him all the way up under her ribs as she straddled him. Kimi felt her maidenhood tear away, felt the sudden flash of pain and the warmth of her own blood running down his rod. He felt so good throbbing deep within her body as she began to ride him, her breasts brushing tantalizingly against his lips.

  Arch your back and go deep; pleasure me, white soldier.

  But now he was arrogant again, laughing at her desperate need. No, bitch, you pleasure me, beg me for it; beg me; say please ... please . . . .

  Kimi came awake with a sudden start, sat up, breathing hard, felt the perspiration on her face. She looked around in the darkness and heard her mother snoring. It had only been a dream, but so real. It almost seemed she could hear him begging for her favors.

  What had awakened her? Kimi strained to hear. Old Wagnuka snored loudly from her side of the tipi. No, that hadn’t been it. The camp lay very still in the middle of the night. The remembrance of everything that had happened yesterday rushed back to her. Instead of losing her virginity to her husband, she dreamed of mating with his enemy. What kind of shameless woman was she? One who had a great capacity for passion, she thought, and now she might never experience that mystery.

  A sound: a very soft moaning. “Please . . . please . . .”

  Yes, that had been what awakened her from h
er troubled dreams. The soldier. No doubt he was in pain from his wound and being tied spread-eagled for hours. For a moment, she almost weakened at the thought of his suffering. No, she would ignore him. He deserved no better. He moaned again. Kimi frowned and sighed. If he didn’t stop, he would wake her mother or maybe some of the others. She lay back down and tried to sleep. Hinzi moaned again, a little louder this time.

  How could she sleep if the captive kept that up? She would go out there and stuff a rag between his lips to mute him. Yes, that was a good reason to go outside and check on him. Of course she didn’t care if he were in pain; she wouldn’t let herself even think about that. It was only important that she make him be quiet so he wouldn’t wake the camp. She crept quietly from the lodge. It was still dark outside but the air had turned cooler. She looked down at the captive.

  “Be silent!” she snapped in a mixture of Lakota and a few English words. “You will awake everyone and so be killed sooner.”

  “Water,” he whispered, and cursed softly in that soft drawl, “Some water . . .”

  “Be still, I said.”

  Hinzi looked unaccustomed to begging for anything. She wondered suddenly if he had been a high officer or a wealthy man, used to ordering people about, expecting others to obey his every command? She had a feeling women begged for his caresses as he had begged her in her troubled dreams. She leaned over him, as she reached for the water skin. “Beg me for it and perhaps I will give you a little water.”

  “Go to hell!” He glared up at her. “If I were free,” he snapped, “you would be the one begging.”

  “Ha!” She threw her head back disdainfully and laid the water skin to one side. “Big talk for one tied up like a bull waiting to be slaughtered!”

  Before she realized what was happening, his right hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat. He had worked that one hand loose from its bounds, she thought in that split second as she struggled with him. If she could only scream and bring people running to her aid.

  The same thought must have flashed through his mind, for he dragged her down to him by sheer brute strength, blocking her cry with his lips.

  In fear and fury, Kimi tried to break his grip, pull away from his mouth so she could scream, but in their struggle, his mouth was on hers, his teeth cutting her lip. No longer was she worried about screaming; now she only wanted enough air to breathe as his iron hand tightened on her throat.

  “Please ...” she managed to gasp against his mouth, choking slowly.

  “Beg,” he demanded against her mouth. “Untie me!”

  He was as proud as she was, Kimi realized as she struggled. She tasted blood from her cut lip even as he forced his tongue deep into her mouth, muffling her cry.

  In silence, they struggled. As hurt as he was and with only one hand free, he was still a powerful, virile stallion of a man. She had underestimated his strength and desperation, thinking him too wounded, too bound to be dangerous.

  Mouth to mouth, they struggled. Kimi gasped for air as she fought, beating him about the face with her small fists. His hands were big and powerful enough to break her neck, she realized that. To save her life, she would have to submit, or his powerful hand would choke her breath off. If she untied him, he would be a danger to the whole camp. She would let him kill her before she endangered her people. If she only had a weapon–a skinning knife, anything. Her blows about his head and brawny chest seemed useless. His only chance was to ignore the blows of her fists and force her to free him, and he seemed to realize that as much as she did.

  “Untie me and you’ll live!” His breath was hot against her mouth as she fought to get away from his strong hand.

  She couldn’t even get enough air to refuse. All she could do was fight and shake her head. He was going to kill her, Kimi thought. He had nothing to lose in this desperate gamble. Yet to save her own life, she couldn’t endanger the sleeping camp.

  Kimi did the only thing she could think to do. She brought her fist down with all her small strength, striking the wound in his thigh.

  He gasped in agony and passed out.

  Three

  With a sigh of relief, Kimi pulled free of the unconscious man and rubbed her bruised throat. That had been a dangerous trap, caused by her own soft heart. Her mother was right; the wasicu were not to be trusted. They were as cunning and full of tricks as a badger. No wonder Wagnuka had made her stay out of sight every time a trader or trapper had come to their camp. She said they hungered for pretty Sioux girls.

  But what of her own hungers? Without thinking, she ran her fingertips across her lips, remembering the hot, sweet taste of the soldier’s mouth, the warmth of his hand, the feel of his naked, hairy chest against her when he held her close.

  She must stop thinking of that, Kimi admonished herself sternly. Perhaps the sooner this bluecoat was dead, the better.

  She studied him. Could she blame him for doing whatever it took to try to save his life, knowing what lay ahead of him at dawn?

  It would soon be light and the warriors would be coming for the captive. Kimi took his big hand in hers, more than a little aware of the power of that hand as she tied his wrist down to the stake again. He must have unbelievable strength, to have been able to break that thong. Maybe it had been strength born of desperation. She was fortunate he hadn’t snapped her neck.

  Absently Kimi brushed her left hand across his lips, wondering if he had put his mouth on many girls’ mouths. No man had ever kissed her before. Immediately, she felt angry and guilty because of the emotion that raced through her at the memory. What kind of woman was she anyway, that the taste of a man’s mouth could excite her and set her blood pounding like a mare in heat, while her own husband lay newly dead? Her face burned as she remembered her torrid, troubled fantasy. Had she no shame? This might be Mato’s killer staked out here.

  Dawn came slowly from the east, with all the pale, soft colors of prairie flowers. Around her the camp began to stir, dogs barked, babies cried. Women called to each other as they stoked up their camp fires and began to prepare food.

  The soldier stirred slightly and moaned. Kimi wished the warriors would come for him and get this over with. Yet she dreaded the ordeal. Since he had first looked into her eyes and tried to talk to her, since his lips had brushed hers, he was no longer just a hated enemy; now he was a living, breathing human being.

  Kimi stood up even as she heard the warriors approaching, led by One Eye. The battle-hardened warrior smiled without mirth. “So, Kimi, are you so eager for your revenge that you are out here waiting for us?”

  What should she say? What could she say? “Of course. He—he deserves to die.”

  With mixed feelings, she watched the braves cut the soldier’s bonds and dragged him to his feet. The Yellow Hair was conscious now and only moaned once when they hauled him upright. He could not stand alone and would have fallen, had not Kimi rushed forward, let him lean on her. He stared down into her eyes and she felt so guilty that she looked away and did not meet his gaze.

  A frown crossed One Eye’s handsome face. “You should have let him fall and be dragged like a dog through the camp for all to sneer at.” He gestured to two of the biggest braves to shoulder the weight of the tall soldier. Hinzi tried to fight them, but in his weakened condition he was no match for the warriors. They half dragged, half carried him to the big camp circle. Kimi followed along behind, unsure what she was supposed to do, although she had already decided she didn’t want to take part in his execution.

  Most people had eaten, and they gathered curiously in the circle to watch what would be done with the captive. His thigh was bleeding again, Kimi winced as she noticed. What difference did that make to the brawny, half-naked man? In a few more minutes, he would have many other agonies to worry about. Even injured, he was still strong enough to strike several blows, scattering his enemies. Though he struggled, the braves raised his arms above his head and lashed them to a framework. He wore only the ragged blue pants, and someone had taken
his boots. His feet barely touched the earth, and now they tied his ankles to two stakes driven wide apart in the ground.

  Kimi hesitated. Should she leave so she wouldn’t have to watch? What would everyone say if she left? They expected her to relish this vengeance because of her husband’s death, and didn’t this enemy of her people deserve this pain and humiliation? Wi the sun rose above the horizon. Light gleamed on hair as golden as the sun itself. Hinzi. Yellow Hair. Tonight that fine scalp would hang on a lodge pole for a victory celebration and dancing.

  The soldier tried to stand, but his injured leg wouldn’t support him. He hung helpless and suspended from his wrists. With his ankles tied to stakes, he couldn’t move anyway. Kimi stared at the rippling muscles of his broad back and wide shoulders. Her own skin where it was protected from the constant sun was much paler than the other Sioux, she realized that, but the yellow-haired soldier had the fairest skin she had ever seen. It was tanned only where it had been exposed to the sun.

  Gopher stepped forward with a knife. “The wasicu wears clothes like a man, but a soldier is no better than an animal–a dog, a horse. He should not be allowed the dignity of covering himself.”

  With a quick motion, the stout brave cut the blue trousers from the soldier, threw them away, leaving him naked while the women laughed behind their hands. “Look at the Hinzi. He’s big as a stallion. Kimi, it is only right that you make the knife stroke.”

  They expected her to geld him. Often when a warrior killed an enemy, he cut off his man parts. Sometimes as an insult, they left them stuffed in the dead enemy’s mouth. It added insult to injury because any man valued his manhood more than he did his life. Gelding was what was done to horses, even among the whites to keep inferior stock from reproducing or make them tractable, docile work animals. Did whites geld men? Maybe some of their black slaves she’d heard the warriors talk about.