Chapter 7

We set out, following our, by now, familiar routine. We were walking along, making pretty good time, and Emily had fallen silent. I don’t know what it was, but something called me to see what she was up to. I was surprised to see two things in the moonlight: One, her blouse was hanging open, completely unbuttoned, and second that her breasts were uncovered, swaying with each step she took. I paused, and she came to me. Feigning innocence, she looked up at me.

“What? Can’t a girl let her sweater puppies out for some air?”

“Is that what you’re really doing?”

“Well, no. I’ve seen how you used to sneak peeks at my bust, at work. You were trying to be discreet, but I knew you were looking. Since I’m your slave, well, I figured slave owners, masters, would want to admire their property. I wondered how far we’d walk, before you noticed me!”

She had me there. “Of course, I want to admire you. You have plenty to admire, and I’m not simply saying that to be nice. On the other hand, since I own your ass for the duration, and I take pains to take good care of my property, I think that your nipples tell me that either you are really, really enjoying exposing yourself, or you are getting cold. I bet on the latter, and so, reluctantly, I want you to button up. Here, you take my sweatshirt. I want you to keep warm, so you will be up to fun and games, once we stop.”

She pretended to pout. “What if I WANT to leave my shirt open? Or take it off?”

“As much as I am a dog, and as much as I enjoy your undeniable feminine charms, in addition to thermo-regulation, there is the issue of distraction to consider.” I reached out, caressing one breast, ending with a nipple tweak. She shivered. “We need to pay attention, because things may not continue to be as boring as I might hope. If you are tempting me with your firm young body, then you can be assured that I am not paying as much attention, as I ought to. If you are enjoying your seduction and tantalization game, then neither are you. If we get surprised, we may have the rest of our lives, however brief that may be, to regret it. It’s entirely likely that bad things are afoot, and I’d rather see them from far off, and then maneuver to avoid them. Please, dress yourself. We can play, later.”

Again the play-pout. “I thought you liked my titties!”

“As if you had to wonder, or fish for compliments. Your breasts are works of art, proof that a Benevolent Creator wants men and women to enjoy each other. Sadly, I want to delay this opportunity to admire you, so that, later, I can admire you with my full attention, and in detail, and at our mutual leisure.”

“Oh, Ok. I’ll wrap myself up. Spoilsport!”, she teased.

We made our way toward White Star, stopping at the Old Schoolhouse park. There was a considerable woodlands north and west of the park, and it promised plenty of opportunity for us to be stealthy. Again, we paused several hundred meters north of our anticipated turnoff, waiting, watching, and listening for indications of activity. There were several small farms scattered about, and the one on the west side of the road, south of where we paused, appeared to have an orchard behind it. Once we had convinced ourselves that there was no activity, we crept along just inside the northern margin of the orchard, keeping low and moving slow.

Around two hundred meters west of the road, the western edge of the orchard appeared. We turned south, and allowed the woodland to swallow us as we kept to a southerly compass reading. At around 250 meters (or as precisely as my each-pace-is-a-meter navigation could determine), the woodland spread out to the west, and we took another two hundred or so paces into the woods.

We soon found a small clearing, and again nestled in at the base of a tree, setting up a leaf bed, covering it with our tarp, spreading sleeping bag and blankets over top of us, and, finishing a hastily alcohol fuel heated dinner, crawled into bed.

Again, I pretty much slept on a hair trigger. Emily, like an honest woman. I suppose I was around my 4th or 5th sleep/wake/sleep cycle, moving into the middle of the afternoon, when I heard something I could not readily identify.

I listened for a bit, and it seemed to be approaching us. I nudged Emily, whispering for her to hurry up, get dressed, and get ready for visitors. We both dressed hurriedly. I checked Emily’s revolver, and approved. It was loaded, and holstered, safety catch snapped over the hammer. I unlimbered my rifle, attached the bayonet, and checked that my pistol was ready: magazine topped off, round chambered, holstered.

I settled Emily behind a tree around 30 meters from our bivouac, and settled in, around 30 meters in the other direction. Before I left her, I whispered,”We don’t want to engage with anybody. If I start to shoot, do not fixate on whatever I’m shooting. Your job is to look around, and try to see if our attackers have people trying to creep up from our side, or from behind. If there is anybody, you stop them.”

She nodded, and squirmed deeper in behind her tree.

I went prone, and kicked some leaves over on top of me. We waited, and listened. The sound approached, and became clearer. There were several voices, making no attempt to be quiet. Once they stumbled into our clearing, they tossed whatever they were dragging into the center, and my blood chilled.

There was a young woman, bound, and naked. She had several bruises beginning to form, and her lip was crusted with dried blood. The three men, laughing, dropped their baggage, and set their weapons, an assortment of pistols and hunting type long guns, aside.