Unknown - Sex in the wild wild west

Eventually, she collapsed again and I rolled off. But Agnes was all over me, kissing and sucking, my balls and my dick. She even stuck her tongue up my asshole. Then she sat up and smiled.

"Nate, that was the best ever. I thought I'd been fucked before, but I've never had it like that. I don't know what's going to happen to us, but… but if it works out and they let us live, please let me stay with you. I know I'm fat and you'll want someone else for a wife, but please keep me. I'll be good to you, Nate. Just keep me around as a concubine or something." Rolling over on her stomach, she stuck her ass up in the air. "Now please, shove that wonderful prick up my butt. You can stick it anywhere, anytime you want, but right now your concubine wants it in her ass."

This was a new twist. I'd never had a woman at my beck and call before, but a willing one like this didn't seem like too bad an idea. But I thought I'd check out her sincerity before I went any further. I'd noticed a mark on some of the squaw's rumps and I knew a little of this tribes customs. And if they let us live, I thought I knew a way to keep her.

"Agnes, do you understand what you're saying? You know a concubine is really no more than a slave, except she's a sex slave. Do you really want me to enslave you?"

"I never really thought about it before, but I guess you're right. They really are no more than sex slaves, are they? Oh yes Nate, that's what I want! Oh, please fuck me hard. I'm getting horny just thinking about it."

"I grew up in the south. Before the war, my father and Joshua both kept a couple of girls around to use and abuse whenever and however they felt like it. And I know, use and abuse meant sharing the girls with all of their friends and whipping them, sometimes just because they wanted to. Sometimes they used to invite their friends over and the girls would be there, with nothing on but their undies. I can just imagine, you having a big party back east. And me serving the food and drinks, with nothing on but my bloomers and bodice. Or maybe with nothing on at all, just like I am now. Yes Nate, that's what I want. Use me all you want, share me and humiliate me all you want, even whip me all you want. Just please fuck me once in a while. Now please, stick your prick in my ass. Butt fuck me, Nate! Show me you want me!"

Now came the test. As I slipped my dick up her chocolate channel I told her my idea. "If I'm going to enslave you, Agnes, we're going to have to do it with the Chief's blessings. Otherwise, he'll probably take you with him when he goes and leave me here alone." Agnes grunted her agreement with this, so I went on. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but this tribe does keep slaves. And their slaves are branded. If the Chief were to agree to this, I'm sure he would insist on your being branded as well."

Agnes' head snapped up at this. "Branded!" she exclaimed.

"Yes Agnes. Right here!" I slapped her on the ass cheek to mark the spot. I could see the thought playing around in her head as she ground her ass back harder on my rod. I don't know what I had expected, but she didn't seem to be nearly as repelled by the idea as I had anticipated.

At length Agnes spoke again. "If-if I'm branded, I'll be marked forever as your slave. You could still sell me or give me away, but I could never deny what I was. If someone took me, or even if I just ran away, as soon as I took my pants off, whoever saw me would know. And as passionate as I am, I know I couldn't keep my pants on for long. Oh Nate, then I'd really be yours. Can we ask him now, Nate?"

I was still sawing in and out of her asshole. I know that if she was my slave, I could do this anytime I wanted, but for now I was only concerned with the short time. "Certainly not now, and not until after Susan does her dance. Let's make sure he's in a good mood. For now, you can be my temporary slave. Now show me what you can do with this asshole. I want to know what I'm getting."

"Yes Nate, whatever you say. I already feel like your slave. The Chief will just make it official. But, but even if he doesn't brand me, will you mark me later?" With that, she really started to grind her ass. Agnes was a natural fuck, and she gave fantastic blowjobs, but her asshole was where her talent really was. In no time at all, I was shooting my load deep into her bowels, but her sphincter kept gripping my prick, as if it were trying to milk it of every drop of come.

Bob had overheard our conversation, and seemed to be very interested in its outcome. As soon as I was finished, I passed my new slave on to him. "Do whatever you want with her, but give her back when you're done."

He returned the favor by handing Mabel to me. As she sat in my lap, she leaned up and whispered in my ear: "Are you really going to make her your slave, Nate? That sounds so, so decadent."

"Why not? She seems to be taking well to it. Besides, if the Chief allows it, it might be the only way any of us get out of here. From the way he's been acting, I think he'll let the men go. I'm hoping he'll let us keep our slaves. Only thing is, you women are going to have to declare yourselves. What Agnes doesn't realize, is that slaves don't belong to one person. She'd be my slave first, but she'd really belong to my whole tribe. And if we stay together, then you're my tribe."

"You mean… You mean she'd belong to all of us? But what if I declared…? Ohhh Nate, that ideas not decadent, it's positively scandalous. But deliciously scandalous. Think you could get this thing hard again? I can't believe how wet I'm getting, just thinking about it."

"Well Mabel. I might be able to, but you'll probably have to talk me into it."

Rachel had been listening intently to this conversation. "You mean, if we don't declare ourselves to be your slaves, they might take us with them to their camp?"

"Well, there's no telling what they might do, but that's a pretty good bet. Indians have a healthy respect for property, particularly if they feel like they've given it to you. They might let everyone go, but then again, they might decide to enslave, or even kill all of us. There's just no telling." I knew I had put some thoughts in both their heads. It was too soon to tell where they might go with them, but life just might prove to be very interesting.

Mabel had just slipped off my lap and taken me in her mouth when Susan made her appearance. She was stunning. That's really all that needs to be said, but I'll try to describe her anyway. The Indian women had given her some of their clothes – a pair of moccasins, aprons (similar to a breech cloth, but without a covering through the crotch), and a vest. The vest was too small and kept falling open so that we could see that her nipples had been heavily rouged. And they'd given her a bath and makeup – dark eye shadow and lipstick. Her hair had been cleaned, brushed and tied in a long pigtail. She'd been beautiful all along. Cleaned up and made up, she was gorgeous.

When the drum started, she started to dance. The squaws had taught her a few Indian steps and she was doing a pretty fair imitation of a Sioux war dance. Or more likely, a mating dance. She really wasn't very good, but she was exquisite; and she tried hard. And the braves were appreciative. She was doing her best and they knew it. She didn't even need to take anything off. With every step, the vest flashed open, showing off her tits, and every time she turned, the aprons would expose her ass or cunt or both. Speaking of which, Maggie and Priscilla had taken care of that too. Her cunt hair had been trimmed up, just like Agnes' and the little bit that was left had been darkened to show it off better. Then they had accented her pussy lips with rouge. She was a virgin when she started, but I didn't think she'd still be able to claim that by the time today was over.

One of the braves jumped into the circle and started dancing with her. Then he threw her to one of his friends. She was passed around the circle like this, each one grabbing a feel before he passed her on. By the time she landed in front of the Chief, she had lost the vest and the aprons. The only thing she had left were the moccasins and her collar.