The Women of the Trail Take Revenge (erotica)

The Women of the Trail Take Revenge

– a re-imagined view of a Louis L’Amour classic.

There are only so many times we women tolerate someone targeting us before we take action. All the menfolk do is shoot em up. And that seems to make things worse, if anything.

So the ladies did what we do, which is put our heads together and show the raiders what they were doing in more practical terms.

We borrowed our husbands’ rifles and snuck into the village under cover of the night, after all the cooking fires were put out. There was one fire left at the village center. Just enough light left to be sure we didn’t bump into each other.

We went to the teepee of the Chief and listened to see if anything or anyone was stirring. Very careful to stay down wind of the dogs.

Little Missy (short for Melissa) led us into the teepee and covered the Chief’s face with a thick towel. A few of us sat on him till his hands and feet were tied. Then we wrapped him in a blanket and put another under that as a travois, so we could drag him out of the village more readily. Hopefully in a quieter way.

We managed to get the Chief to a field about a mile away from the village. And uncovered his face so he knew who had him now. He relaxed, foolishly thinking that a bunch of womenfolk would hardly be a risk to him. He should know better, considering he had a neighbouring chief who was a famous female warrior. But he thought of us settler women as weak. And we had to convince him otherwise. So he stopped sending his warriors out to capture us.

We removed his breechclout and teased him to hardness. And watched as his eyes lit up. He thought he was going to have a fun evening. But that would hardly be revenge, would it? It would hardly motivate him to leave us alone.

So no. He had another sort of attention coming to him.
Something none of his maidens would dare do to him…

Little Missy had a knife, and she kept nicking his balls and threatening to castrate him if he sent his warriors after us again. Then she used the knife, covered with a cloth remnant to anally rape him. He was no longer thinking this was all fun and games. He looked like he was afraid of actually leaving here without his manhood attached. And Little Missy was a farmer’s daughter, so she had had practice on the geldings on papa’s farm. He had too few sons, and too little money or his daughter wouldn’t have been let in the shed at such an indelicate time.

Chief was trying to stop himself from shaking so he couldn’t get cut by mistake. And tensing and cringing, to try and avoid the knife. But Little Missy was a determined wench when her mind was set on a task. Which none of the men in our wagon circle knew.

Except her father. He was quite sure his daughter could protect herself against unwanted attention. But little Missy’s best protection was acting like an idiot. She cooed till most men’s teeth were set and all they wanted was to get away from her. She cooed and held a knife under her skirts in case they decided to press the issue. But somehow they never did.

A few of us women were taking cues from her. The men were enjoying the time we spent in town, so they could be with the saloon women, more than they did trying things on with us. Good thing, because we weren’t big fans of their red neck, tough bristle ways. And who could possibly enjoy the stink of unwashed teeth and chewing tobacco and bootleg moonshine? They didn’t have a chance, unless the women had joined them in a glass or two of moonshine.

When we were done with the Chief. we intended to leave him with a memory, but nothing that would shame him before the braves. Or they’d replace him. The Chief had to be the best of the best. We’d be losing ground if that was taken way. So we just showed him what real sexual fear was like. Then we let him go. And ran for the wagons, before he could gather help.

The rest of the night, we took turns watching the horizon for raiders. But they seemed to bypass us for the rest of our time there. The Chief was redirecting them to other wagon groups than ours.

Our lesson had worked. And we could breathe a sigh of collective relief. And made note of the fact that even chiefs didn’t like being tortured and raped by women.

Good to know!

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