Deadly Encounters #1

 Introduction:

I am called Red Knife, a young Cheyenne brave alone and isolated deep in Crow territory. I was part of a war party to retaliate for a Crow raid on my village and was thrown from my war pony after it was hit by an enemy arrow. I only have my trusty knife sheathed on my loincloth waistband, apart from that I am almost naked but for moccasins and a leather headband to hold back my black braided hair and fix my Eagle feather. I am still adorned with the yellow and red war paint worn by Cheyenne braves when they are to do battle. I am lithe and sinewy and need all my strength and agility to get me back to my people. As it is summer I can expect the Crow Indian braves I may encounter to be as scantily clad as myself and it is not uncommon for them to wear a waistband without a loincloth.



Deadly Encounters #1


As I make my way along the base of a ridge to avoid being seen a naked bronzed and war painted Crow, knife in hand, launches himself at me. I barely have time to draw my own knife before the well toned physique of the young brave knocks me to the ground with the momentum of his leap. In the process my own knife is knocked from my hand to fall into the grass as I land on my back with the snarling war painted face of the brave glaring down at me. His knife hovers over my abdominals but I counter its descent with my left hand as our other hands are locked in a wrestling grip. His dominant position gives him the advantage and the anticipation of knifing his enemy in the guts seems to excite him as his exposed manhood begins to respond. 


Looking at his naked stance on top of me makes him look more animal than human with his muscular abdominals curving down towards his semi rigid cock hanging down over me glistening in pre-cum. He suddenly pushes my right hand down and away so as to use both of his hands to force his knife into my belly. But, in so doing, my right hand suddenly finds my knife in the grass which I quickly use to stab up >Spffflllittt< directly into his navel as he yelps, “Eaaarrrggghhh!!” As I twist the blade deeper into his viscera his cock shakes as his body shudders flicking strings of pre-cum from side to side. His hot blood draining over my knife hand and onto my belly, running down under my loincloth and bathing my manhood in its warmth. His body then collapses down onto mine, belly to belly, shuddering and pulsing hot blood from his navel wound directly into my navel. He then becomes still and I roll his naked dead weight from me, now fully taking in the powerful physique of this young brave.

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Tales of the Wild West #1

MISSOURI summer 1850…. Jake a cocky 22 year old cowboy is riding the range looking for straying cattle with two other cowhands, Jesse, at 47 and Pete the 18 year old son of the ranch owner. Jake likes riding shirtless feeling the warm breeze on his lean body. Jesse hollers over to him,“If you get a burned hide I ain’t gonna be the one rubbing horse liniment on ya agin… you hear me boy?” Pete laughs at this and, taking off his own shirt, starts swirling it around his head calling out, “Yeehah! Yeehah!” Jesse shakes his head saying,“Dang fools, it ain’t my job to nursemaid ya. Just don’t expect Jesse to sooth yer red hides while ya whimpering away… I ain’t ya pa!”

Just then…. a whoosh and thud is followed by a yell from Jesse as he falls from his horse with an arrow buried deep between his ribs. Jake shouts over at Pete,“RIDE FOR YOUR LIFE BOY!” The two spur their mounts into a gallop away from the direction of the arrow and Jake looks behind to see if they’re being pursued by any indians. But just as he does he is aware that Pete’s mount has stumbled and thrown Pete to the ground where he rolls to a halt laying face down and still. Jake makes a sharp turn and halts his mount near to the fallen Pete. Dismounting he draws his pistol and, looking all about, starts shaking Pete’s shoulder saying, “Get up boy we need to move out fast!” Pete starts to groan and rolls over shaking his head saying,“Wha…what….being attacked… indians…. Jesse?!” As the boy comes around he looks up at Jake,“What you looking at Jake?”  Pete notices Jake peering over at the stumbled horse and then sees what Jake is looking at…Pete’s horse has an arrow buried deep in its hindquarter. Then they both hear the whooping of indians approaching and look to see a band of ten loincloth clad Shawnee on coloured ponies bearing down on them. Jake knows they couldn’t outrun them with two on his mount so he grabs his rifle and signals to Pete to run for the cover of nearby rocks.


On reaching the rocky outcrop they get down on their naked bellies and Jake takes careful aim with his Winchester rifle…he shoots and one of the pursuing braves is struck in the chest, the bullet’s impact flipping him backwards from his pony. This causes the others to split up and circle the outcrop, shooting arrows from horseback towards the cowhands’ position. Arrows ricochet off the rocks too close for comfort so Jake risks levelling his rifle again and fires…another brave is hit in his side and his back explodes in a red mist from the exit wound. The other eight braves then quickly dismount to take cover nearby and start up a continuing whooping. Pete says, “What we gonna do Jake, we’re surrounded by injuns and lost our horses?”Jake replies, “Stay calm boy…your pa will soon send a search party out for us. Now keep your pistol at the ready in case these savages rush us.” 


Nightfall approaches bringing with it a nearly full Moon while the remaining Shawnee continue to whoop from any and every direction causing the half naked cowpokes’ nerves to be on edge. Pete whispers, “Can you hear something else Jake?” He replies, “There’s something out there right enough… keep your eyes peeled and git your knife ready.” The two scan the surrounding rocks until…Pete squeezes Jake’s arm and gestures towards something. Jake starts to make out a form, slithering snake like over the boulders towards them…every now and then the moonlight glistens off tensing muscled skin revealing the sinewy form of an indian. Jake whispers, “Now!” as he launches himself at the crawling brave landing on his naked back. Grabbing at the brave’s knife hand Jake wrestles him into a choke hold and ends up lying on his back with the squirming indian laying belly up atop of him. Jake says, “Do it Pete…do it now!…What’s wrong with yer…You’ve gut a deer before ain’t yer boy…well this here buck is no different…now stick him!” Pete lunges forward with his hunting knife and helps Jake by also holding off the brave’s knife arm then, almost in a frenzy, stabs his blade deep into the lower belly and navel of the struggling indian…again and again and again. When Jake feels the brave go limp and hot blood pooling on his own belly he says, “Pete, that’s enough…PETE!…enough!” Just then, as if knowing what had become of their brother warrior, the whooping falls silent. Jake rolls the dead brave off him and they both try to remain alert but the chill of night time makes it difficult so Jake, crawling over to Pete, embraces the youth in a hug. They share each other’s body warmth until sun up when they again take up their defensive positions. In the light of day Pete tries hard not to look at the indian brave he butchered. The continuing silence prompts Pete to say, “Maybe they’ve skeddadled Jake?…maybe they’ve seen my pa and the search party coming?” Jake replies, “Listen Pete, ya pa won’t know we’re missing until later cos I told him we were gonna camp out overnight…I only told yer that to keep ya calm, so no, those savages are still out there.” Pete doesn’t react to this revelation.


Suddenly they hear the sound of a single pistol shot…Pete excitedly exclaims, “It is pa, he’s come for us…I told yer he would Jake.” Jake replies, “No yung un, I’ll wager that’s Jesse’s pistol those ornery varmints are playing with…don’t worry none cos these injuns ain’t used to guns so unless they’re right up close to ya they couldn’t hit a barn door.” Not long after Jake says this they hear the clattering of stones and spin around to see a mostly naked and war painted indian warrior appear atop a shallow scree slope aiming Jesse’s pistol in their direction. Almost simultaneously all three fire their pistols… the Shawnee is hit in his navel but before he can claw at his wound a second shot to his left breast sends him spinning to fall limp down the slope. Pete says, “We got another one Jake…JAKE!”…Pete, on turning to Jake, sees him clutching at his belly and in obvious pain. Jake whimpers, “I’m gut shot Pete…it hurts real bad!” Pete, now oblivious to the impending danger, tries to aid Jake but before he can do anything he is roughly grabbed from behind by a muscular forearm around his neck. Pete is disarmed and firmly held while forced to watch as a brave, believing that bullets can be reused like arrows, commences to cut the bullet out of the belly of a screaming Jake who eventually falls quiet and still as death takes him. Pete struggles, cursing at the Shawnee. One of the Shawnee band is Pete’s age and an older warrior summons him forward to stand face to face with Pete. The Shawnee youth is similar in physique to Pete but with better defined abdominals. His war painted face gives the aggressive snarl he is giving Pete a fearsome look. Then the older warrior starts chattering away in his native tongue which Pete can’t understand…but he soon comes to realise what they intend for him.


The Shawnee youth is given Pete’s hunting knife which he starts running across Pete’s body…When he gets to Pete’s navel the brave gestures a cutting action feigning gutting him. Then the young Shawnee hands over the knife to Pete, walks back a few paces and, drawing his own knife, adopts a crouching classic knife fighting stance at Pete. Pete follows suit and looks for weaknesses in his adversary but all he can see is the hate the young Shawnee has for him and his desire to spill pale skin blood. Pete knows he is a dead man whatever the outcome of this fight…so, not caring they cannot understand him, he loudly says, “I AIN’T DYING WITHOUT TAKING YOU WITH ME SAVAGE!” With that they both start to circle one another but it is the Shawnee who more boldly thrusts forward with his blade. However, Pete was hoping the Shawnee’s arrogance would offer up this opportunity…As the Shawnee thrusts at Pete’s naked belly Pete sidesteps forward and, grabbing his opponent’s knife arm, uses his leg to unbalance the brave causing him to roll to the ground. “Don’t know them wrestling moves do you red!” Pete says as he follows through by straddling the brave who responds by violently bucking Pete off him. The two then set about a deadly wrestle in the dirt while defensively holding off each other’s knife hand. Pete feels the squirming power of the brave’s body tight against him as they roll this way and that. Soon however, the Shawnee gets the better of Pete by holding him down with his back to the ground and he slowly starts to overpower Pete’s defensive hold causing the brave’s knife to descend closer and closer to Pete’s belly. Pete can feel the brave is, like himself, in a state of arousal and Pete starts to think about accepting his fate in the deadly embrace of this handsome savage. Then, to the side, Pete sees Jake’s blood covered body and his resolve changes and he spits up at the brave. This action makes the brave to again hold his snarling face close to Pete’s but again this is what Pete hoped for…Pete rapidly head butts the brave causing him to lose some strength. Feeling the temporary lull in his enemy’s strength Pete forces his hunting knife directly into the Indian’s navel…as Pete feels the resistance of the brave’s tight abdominals he pushes harder causing the young brave to cry out and spasm against Pete. Pete, not content with this, viciously twists the blade in his enemy’s guts until he becomes limp atop of him.


Now, while the body of the dead brave is lifted from him, Pete awaits his own death… He is lifted to his feet to again stand before the older warrior. Accepting his fate Pete defiantly spits on the ground at the warrior’s feet but the warrior just starts chanting followed by reaching down to the young brave’s death wound to collect some still warm blood on his fingers. He then smears this blood on Pete’s cheekbones, like blood warpaint and chants again. Inexplicably the warrior then gives Pete the young braves knife, bow and arrows and tomahawk while another warrior brings over the coloured pony of the brave and hands Pete its halter rope. While Pete continues to just stand there the Shawnee band gather their ponies and dead and are soon gone out of view. Not knowing how much time elapses Pete becomes aware of a familiar voice, that of his father urgently calling out his name…


Pete is initially left with mixed feelings over surviving the encounter while his friends lay dead…In a weird sense he had developed a kind of respect for the Shawnee, in much the same way as he did for wild animals…Yet despite this, the overriding feeling for Pete would end up being one of hate…A hate that would soon see him lead a vigilante raid on the nearest, mostly peaceful, Shawnee village, regardless of where the war party had come from, as revenge for the loss of his two friends…but that’s another story…



The Raiding Party



My older brother and I were on a pilgrimage to our sacred burial grounds about six miles from our village. The pilgrimage involved us living off the land for three days without any weapons or horses. We were both clad in buckskin shirts and breechclouts and on the second morning it was my turn to fetch water from a nearby river. On the way I checked our crudely made traps but there was nothing caught in them. While filling the water skins I heard the sound of horses coming my way so I backed into the cover of rocks to see who was riding them. To my horror they were a raiding party of fifteen braves from a tribe in the next valley who had started attacking villages close to ours for horses so it was just a matter of time before our village would be targeted and it looked like they were on their way now. The raiding party then stopped and dismounted by the river but what can I do to warn my village which was six miles away? I must fetch my brother, we must do something. Upon returning to our makeshift camp I saw the ground had been disturbed by the raiding party’s horses....it didn’t take long for me to find my brother....he was lying face down in the dirt with two arrows in his back, his spirit was now with our ancestors but I must choke back my emotions to take action to warn my people. 

On returning to the river I could see the horses but where were the warriors? I then saw the smoke from a camp fire which was visible above the trees where they must be holding up prior to the raid on my village. But there must be lookouts....ah yes....now visible between the horses I saw that a lone warrior was standing in the shallow waters of the flowing river allowing the horses to drink. The warrior was younger than me well toned and wore just a loincloth with a sheathed hunting knife hanging from it on his right hip. It was going to be hard to take on such a fit adversary unarmed as I was but I had to get one of those horses, and scatter the rest to take my chance to warn my village. I removed my buckskin clothing down to my loincloth to quietly enter the river and swam underwater as far as I could until I reached the shallows. I then made my way in between the horses stroking them softly as I went so they knew I was there and wouldn’t get spooked, all the time fixing my gaze on the enemy warrior in case he turned and saw me. Fortunately the sound of the flowing river water and horses allowed me to approach the brave from behind undetected.


I needed to grab his sheathed knife from behind before he could react with the intention of a quick kill. I was now so close I could feel the heat from his body, I put my left forearm across his throat squeezing tight and making him arch backwards and at the same time made a grab for his hunting knife.....but his reactions were too quick for me and he had hold of the knife’s handle while I had firm hold of his wrist. As I continued to choke him his left hand was clawing to free my forearm from his throat and we struggled for control of the knife as its blade came free of its sheath. I attempted to turn the blade into his side but while we were struggling he suddenly lunged backwards throwing us both off balance. I landed on my back in the shallow waters losing my choke hold on the brave who was now atop of me belly to belly with his snarling war painted face into mine as we fought for control of the knife. Now it was his left forearm that was across my throat pushing my head down into the shallow water. I could feel the squirming power of the young warrior’s body against me as he tensed trying to deliver the killer thrust under my ribs that would end my life. Using my left forearm hard against his neck I managed to force his body to turn off me just enough to expose his wet naked belly to the knife’s blade. With thoughts of my brother and village I found the strength I needed to turn his knife clutching hand so that the blade was now towards his torso and despite his resistance I managed to lunge the blade into his tensed belly. He bucked and tried to roll off me but I held him there while gaining full control of his knife and again stabbing deep into his bleeding belly feeling the resistance of his abs against the blade. He yelped and tried to lift himself off me, now fully exposing his abdomen I thrust the blade up into his navel and slowly twisted it....this time for my brother. The warrior gasped, writhed and then slumped back onto me, his hot blood turning the water red about us I rolled his limp body off me and into the flowing river.


Not knowing wether I had been detected by the other warriors I bareback mounted the nearest horse and while scattering the rest down river I was aware of arrows flying past me as I spurred the war pony towards my village.

Deadly Encounters #1

  Introduction: I am called Red Knife, a young Cheyenne brave alone and isolated deep in Crow territory. I was part of a war party to retal...