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Custer's Little Big Horn

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You know I was thinking even if Custer losses and is wiped out girls should be alright. Even Injuns would appreciate three fine white women to be used at their discretion and their squaws would mind if the did on those times when they had 'a headache'. But then I realized I forgot the warriors Hungonelow (well endowed, those using translators) Bull and Archer (descendants known as Gunner) not to mention the squaw-bitch that seems to be on constant PMS, Joanus Oak.. There could be trouble...

Tree

...what??? What was not politically correct post, Ulrika???

:doh::doh::doh: He's feeling better -Ulrika
 
thehangingtree said:
You know I was thinking even if Custer losses and is wiped out girls should be alright. Even Injuns would appreciate three fine white women to be used at their discretion and their squaws would mind if the did on those times when they had 'a headache'. But then I realized I forgot the warriors Hungonelow (well endowed, those using translators) Bull and Archer (descendants known as Gunner) not to mention the squaw-bitch that seems to be on constant PMS, Joanus Oak.. There could be trouble...

Tree

...what??? What was not politically correct post, Ulrika???

:doh::doh::doh: He's feeling better -Ulrika
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225399592323fdb12b29a24e48ca015f78c53f67.jpg Giggle snort :D
 
I have no doubt that a battle hardened veteran and tactical genius like Custer, with the finest cavalry of the US Army, will fix the job, rescue the ladies and defeat the Indians. Then, his way to the White House will lie wide open. Custer has all the trumps to succeed!
 
Loxuru said:
I have no doubt that a battle hardened veteran and tactical genius like Custer, with the finest cavalry of the US Army, will fix the job, rescue the ladies and defeat the Indians. Then, his way to the White House will lie wide open. Custer has all the trumps to succeed!
Click to expand...

225399592323fdb12b29a24e48ca015f78c53f67.jpg Giggle snort, again! :p:D:rolleyes:
 
Barbaria1 said:
6. I hold my breath as the leader of the Sioux war party's razor-sharp knife blade slices through the lacy fabric of my bodice. The rent garment is pulled from my shoulders and down the length of my arms pinioned behind my back. My breasts fall free. I am topless.

He cups and moves my breasts around in his calloused hands, stopping every so often to pinch my nipples … all the while mugging for the others in his war party who crowd around to watch the show. With my arms restrained, I am helpless. Resisting is futile, so I decide to hold still and try not to react.

But out of the corner of my eye I catch a bit of movement some distance away, over by the buckboard. Trying not to be too obvious about it, I wait my chance and steal a quick second look. Excitement sweeps over me. It's Jolly! And he is stealthily engaged in unhitching the mare from the buckboard. He is still here but about to attempt his getaway!

I tamp down my excitement. I must not give anything away. All attention is on the leader's mauling of my bare breasts, but to ensure that it stays that way I decide to try to recruit the assistance of the others. I throw my head back in pain as he twists my right nipple, but I also use the moment to shoot a quick look at Messa, rolling my eyes toward Jolly and the mare.

She looks perplexed at first, but then catches my drift. Stepping forward, she loosens her bodice, and casts it away with a devil-may-care flourish worthy of a saloon showgirl on stage. Then she places her hands on her hips and slithers provocatively around the Sioux leader, rubbing up against him, breaking away, and then rubbing against him again.

Wragg too has caught on to the game and hums the tune to "Alouette" in accompaniment, as Messa dances gaily and flirtatiously in and out amongst our somewhat bemused … if not totally puzzled … band of savages.

A moment later Siss is into it as well, raising her skirt, kicking up her feet, teasingly shaking her booty and tossing back her long blonde tresses. I break free of the leader's two-handed grip to join Siss and Messa. Together the three of us join arms and circle round in a wild topless can-can dance performance that … as intended … succeeds in captivating the rapt attention of the entire war party.

Suddenly with a thunder of pounding hoof beats, Jolly races off, clinging to the back of the buckboard mare. One of the Sioux warriors lets out a cry of surprise and begins shouting and pointing. There is a collective look of consternation among the war party. After a moment's hesitation, several tear themselves away, sprinting for their ponies.

At this point Wragg springs into action and does something very brave (or incredibly stupid). He puts fingers to his mouth and lets out a shrill whistle that startles the Indian ponies, causing them to bolt. For his act of bravery, the poor Englishmen gets a quick knock on the head that sends him sprawling to the ground.

The warriors who headed for their ponies, intending to catch Jolly, return throwing their hands in the air in frustration ... Taking advantage of the confusion, I rush to the aid of our fallen hero. Kneeling beside him, I draw his head ... which has a nasty-looking bloody gash across the forehead ... to my bare breasts, and cradle it there.

The war party mills around in a muddle, waving their arms and jawing at one another. I imagine they are arguing about who to blame for the sudden turn of events. They appear to have totally forgotten about us, at least for the moment. Siss and Messa sneak off under their noses, giggling to one another as they arrive at my side to fuss over poor Wragg … who seems to have come around and is looking up at me dreamily.

Finally the Sioux leader collects himself and takes charge, shouting orders and probably threats. Some of his men depart on foot in pursuit of the runaway ponies. In the meantime, he sets the others to flipping the buckboard over. They gather on one side and bending their backs to it, heave it over. It flips and settles with a crash, its wooden frame splintering and its wheels spinning crazily.

Then he turns and, pointing at us, issues a string of guttural-sounding commands, which I surmise are anything but friendly. The savages swoop down on us, and whooping and hollering they drag us over to the overturned buckboard, where we three girls are quickly stripped of our remaining clothing and each bound along with Wragg, who is allowed to keep his clothing, to one of the four wheels.

Being spread-eagled naked on a wagon wheel is not a pleasant experience. I cry out as a wheel hub presses painfully into the small of my back, and as the binding lengths of leather cord are pulled tight, securing my arms and wrists and ... after spreading my legs apart ... my knees and ankles to the rim of the wheel. Under my weight, my wheel begins to rotate slowly on its axle until I find myself upside down, blood rushing to my head … staring at the moccasined feet of the Sioux leader.

I hear Messa cursing a blue streak in French from the other side of the overturned buckboard.

Siss, who is also on the far side, calls out, "you don't think they will scalp us, do you?"

"Not alive," I call back, reassuringly, but with a lump in my throat as I imagine my long brown hair being held out from my head while the sharp blade of a knife hovers over my scalp.

Wragg, who is tied to the wheel nearest me moans as s couple of the Sioux warriors take delight in spinning his wheel round and round at dizzying speed. Although, they lose interest when he begins to retch and deposits his half-digested lunch on the ground at their feet.

Time passes. The sun is setting and it is getting dusky. The war party has settled in to await the return of the ponies. For the moment we are left alone as they find other things to occupy their attentions. We hang on our wheels in silence, fearful of what may happen next.

The Indians move about around us. They manage to locate and liberate the rest of Messa's stock of imported French wine. Broken pieces of the buckboard are gathered, tossed into two piles ... one on each side of the buckboard ... and set ablaze. As the flames rise, a surreal flickering glow is cast over the darkening scene.

Soon the smell of roasting buffalo meat and the loud drunken chatter of the band of savages fills the air. I shiver. It's only a matter of time, I think to myself … and sure enough, first one, then another and then several more are on their feet and staggering in our direction.

TO BE CONTINUED
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Oh Oh, maybe time for some Indian 'horn'.........
Pic showing Barb's future? ....will she join the fight against Custer???

the-white-squaw-affiche_225268_29799.jpg
 
xso said:
Oh Oh, maybe time for some Indian 'horn'.........
Pic showing Barb's future? ....will she join the fight against Custer???

View attachment 351135
Click to expand...

Well xso...reading ahead? .... Squaws will definitely play a role in the next episode ... Coming soon ;)
 
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