The Saddle Bride
by Teresa Ann Wood
Part 2
Chapter Nine
Petrified, Claude hid in his room, cowering beneath the covers. Not that he had any real choice; Paco made sure the door of his room was locked all the time and checked it after every visit by Feyela. His head laying on one of the thick pillows and his hands gripping the volume of poetry he so enjoyed, Claude remained huddled there for hours in pure terror. As darkness fell he heard the sound of the key in the door and dared peak out from under the covers. Perhaps it was Feyela, bringing him his evening meal. It was not. It was Mark.
The man remained filthy from his travels and moved as if he were very tired. He hadn't shaved in days his hair was matted with sweat. The outlaw moved reluctantly into the bedroom as if loathe to perform a task that he knew had to be done and after a long moment staring at the lump hidden beneath the pile of quilts, moved to pull a chair around so that he could sit facing the bed. Claude, still peeking, noticed that the chair was some distance away, as if Mark was afraid to get too close to him.
"I know you're not asleep, boy," Mark growled. "Pull your head up here and let's talk."
Fear and shame competed for the right to stop Claude's heart as the boy reluctantly pushed back the covers and sat up in the bed. He noticed a surprised look on Mark's face when the outlaw saw that he was wearing a dress. Realizing that hiding at this point was silly, Claude pushed the covers further back and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Still wearing dresses I see," Mark said, his voice cold and his eyes narrowed. Despite himself Claude managed to squeeze out a few words.
"It's all I have; Feyela wouldn't bring me anything else."
Nodding, the suspicion dimming slightly from his eyes, Mark seemed to accept that explanation.
"Well that's what I told her to do, before…" he paused. Claude knew what 'before' he was speaking of. Before the outlaw found out that he was a boy.
"If you'll bring me something else, I'll change," Claude said quietly, unable to look the man in the eyes at that moment. "I never wanted to dress this way anyway."
"Then why did you?" demanded Mark, leaping to his feet with his eyes blazing. "All those weeks of riding, me calling you 'missy', you could have said something!"
"I tried!" Claude wailed, tears bursting from his eyes. "I just couldn't say anything; I was so afraid of you!"
"You could have just said, 'I'm a boy'! How was I to know you were a boy? You were small, pretty, and you never once tried to say that you weren't a girl."
"I was scared," wailed Claude. Had Mark said that he was pretty? "And at first you said you were going to let me go once we had outrun the posse, so I let you think what you wanted to think until then. I thought that if you knew that I was a boy, you'd shoot me instead of releasing me. Then later, when you made me suck you…"
Mark was silent for a long moment, returning to his chair as he watched the boy in a dress weeping. What the boy had said was true; he would have killed him out of hand if he had realized it was a boy and not a potential saddle bride he had kidnapped.
"But how could you suck my dick, when you're a boy?" Mark asked lamely.
"It was that or die," Claude said between sobs. "Once I had done it a couple of times I decided that if I keep doing it you'd finally get tired of me and maybe let me go."
Again Mark was silent as he contemplated the boy's words. Perhaps it was his fault, at least partly, but the boy should have had the courage to say something before giving up his masculinity that way. Now what was he to do? Shooting the boy would be the obvious fix to the problem but Mark was concerned that Paco's squaw would poison his food one evening; the Mexican had said that the two were very close now and Sioux woman was not to be trifled with. So if he killed the boy, Mark knew that he would have to kill the woman too and then he and Paco would be trapped here in the valley all winter without a saddle bride and who knew whether Paco would accept the death of the squaw so easily? Might he have to kill all three of them?
Standing up again Mark contemplated the sobbing boy. There were plenty of supplies, so he didn't necessarily have to make a decision right now.
"Look boy, uh, what's your name?"
"Claude."
"Claude!" Mark stated, instantly his revulsion returned tenfold at the masculine name coming from such a feminine person. "Look, uh, Claude, I'm not going to kill you if that's what you're worried about. Hell I'm even sorry that I beat you up, but I was just so surprised. I'm not saying that I won't ever kill you, you never know about me, but for now at the least I'll leave you alone. You can stay here until spring and then I'll decide what to do with you. I can't just let you leave on your own; somebody might follow your back trail to find my hideout and it's just too good to lose."
Amazed at the outlaw's words Claude stopped crying, his ears perked to hear more.
"And I'm sorry about the dresses but for now that's all I have for you to wear. I'll have Feyela start making you something more… appropriate, but for at least the time being you'll have to make do with the dresses. Neither Paco nor I have any extra clothes and, let's face it, they wouldn't fit you anyway."
"That's fine, I can put up with it a little longer," snuffled Claude, smoothing a wrinkle from the dress he was wearing. They weren't all that bad, he thought. The silk felt really nice against his skin and the dresses were comfortable and warm so long as he stayed out of drafts.
"Alright, then we have a deal. You can have free run of the house until spring, and wear whatever you want until Feyela can come up with something else."
"Thank you," Claude whispered.
"Yeah well, I need to get downstairs," Mark said, moving towards the door. He obviously wasn't comfortable around the boy anymore.
"I guess you have to see to your new saddle bride," Claude said, somewhat depressed that someone else was going to have to suffer the same indignities that he had, even if they had been born the appropriate sex for what Mark had in mind.
"What?" Mark asked quizzically. "Oh, I guess Paco must have told you. No, I couldn't find me a new saddle bride; I didn't want to take someone from a nearby town, they could too easily find my hideout. I tried to hire a whore for the winter, but no one wanted to come." He laughed, "Well, no one I wanted to bring, anyway."
Thrilled that Mark's quest for a saddle bride to take his place had failed, Claude certainly didn't want anyone to suffer as he had, the first smile in some time edged slightly onto his face.
"Sorry about that," Claude offered, then before he thought blurted, "But you shouldn't be stealing women for your pleasure anyway."
Clamping his hand across his mouth, Claude waited in wide-eyed horror for Mark's response. Why had he said something so stupid? To his surprise, Mark just laughed.
"I take what I want, that's what being an outlaw is all about…" he paused as if about to say something else and the changed his mind. "Look, I can't call you Claude when you're dressed like that. If someone from my gang came around and saw you and then heard me call you 'Claude', well, you get the idea. Paco will keep my secret but some of the other men I deal with… well if one of them should happen to slip in here through the snow before Feyela can make you some new clothes we'll need a new name for you, temporary-like."
Grateful not to be punished for lecturing an outlaw on the immorality of kidnapping and rape, Claude quickly agreed. "That makes sense."
Mark looked at him expectantly but Claude didn't know why.
"Well? What is your name going to be?"
"Oh," Claude said, surprised that he would get to choose. So few things in his life had been under his control that it had never occurred to Claude that he would be allowed to pick his new, temporary, name. He had known so few women by their first names that it didn't take long for him to choose.
"Caroline," he said hesitantly, looking to see if his mother's name would please Mark.
The outlaw simply nodded once and left the room, saying over his shoulder, "Good night Caroline."
Despite himself, 'Caroline' smiled.
Chapter Ten
The next few days Caroline continued to be cautious around Mark and tried his best to avoid Paco entirely. Each day was spent with Feyela who finally allowed him to leave his room and move about the house. Mostly healed from the beating, only his knee remained sore, Caroline tried to help his friend with the cooking and cleaning but the Sioux woman always refused, forcing the boy into a nearby chair to watch while she worked. Caroline continued to wear dresses, trying to stay with the plainest of those available, but Feyela seemed to delight in dressing him up as much as he would allow. Of her medicinal treatments, only the Winkte was still served to him but since Caroline had already developed a taste for the tea; that became a routine that he enjoyed. When Caroline once offered to make some of the tea for everyone, Feyela would not allow it, pantomiming that the tea was only for Caroline.
Mark said little to Caroline at first but was always polite at meals. The snow was falling fast so the men were trapped inside most of the day though they did have to go outside each day to bring in firewood and continue to shovel clear the path to Paco's cabin and the barn. Little by little Caroline was allowed to help with Feyela's chores and found himself to be a quick study at cooking. He even enjoyed it and always shared a secret smile with Feyela when one of the men would compliment her for something that Caroline had cooked. By the end of December, the four had developed a routine and Mark had even begun to purposely spend some time with Caroline, explaining that they 'ought to at least get along'. Caroline could only agree.
Mark found it interesting that Caroline liked to read and asked the boy to read to him, and Caroline happily complied. Each evening after the others had returned to their own cabin they would sit by the fire, he lounging across a long settee and Caroline in an overstuffed chair nearer to the flames as they shared whatever book they chose for that evening. At first Caroline would read poetry to him but Mark would quickly lose track of the intricate language; he was far from stupid, Caroline discovered, but had no schooling at all. Eventually Caroline found books that appealed more to him and their nightly sessions became more enjoyable for them both. Sometimes as he read, Caroline would notice odd looks from the outlaw but he tried to put them out of his mind. They were more comfortable together than ever and the boy didn't want to imagine that the outlaw was thinking badly of him.
As for Caroline's male clothing, Mark explained to Feyela, through the translating Paco, what type of clothing that she needed to make for the boy. She promised to get right on it and even showed Mark the fabric's she had chosen for the project from her limited supply. With all the approvals in hand she said that she would work on them in the evenings and would allow Caroline to help. Unfortunately the Indian had a lot of sewing piled up as she had put all her darning and such aside to occupy her through the winter and said that some of that simply had to be done first. Since no other gang members showed up before the passes became blocked, Mark didn't argue the point and simply told Feyela to get the new clothes ready as soon as she could. Feyela seemed to have trouble finding the time but would occasionally get out a shirt or a pair of pants and perform some cutting or stitching but somehow just never seemed to complete anything that Caroline could wear. By mid-January Caroline had stopped asking about his boy clothes and since Mark had only asked once, the subject wasn't brought up any more. This gave Feyela the opportunity to simply stop working on them and by the first of February they had all silently agreed, though it had never been mentioned aloud, that Caroline would continue to wear dresses throughout the rest of the winter. It wasn't long after that that something new happened that changed Caroline's outlook on her captivity.
Caroline had always been a vivid dreamer, even from when he was a small boy, and these days were no exception. Often his dreams were frightening with bullies from the past beating and threatening him with hot pokers. One night he had a dream unlike any he had ever had and awoke the next morning with soiled panties; he had cum in them during the night. He remembered the dream completely and embarrassingly avoided Mark as much as possible that day and begged off reading to him that night claiming he was too tired. In the dream he had again been sucking Mark's cock, but this time it was because Caroline had wanted to. At some point in the weeks after that Caroline, though he still looked forward to being able to return to his life as a boy come spring, began to think of himself as a 'she'.
It was just simpler that way, she decided. Wearing dresses and makeup every day while being called 'Caroline' was difficult enough without having to constantly refer to herself as himself. If she had to spend one winter as a woman, why not just go with it? It would all be over soon enough and he could return to his normal life. Suddenly wearing pretty clothes mattered a great deal to Caroline, and she took great care with her makeup and wardrobe after that. Feyela noticed the difference right away, although Caroline never said anything to anyone else about her decision.
Things were fine throughout February and Caroline was quite content with her life. The dreams about she and Mark came more and more often but she rarely had 'wet dreams' any more, but they were quite arousing. She had stopped feeling guilty about them and figured they were simply a side-effect of being forced to live as a woman. So long as they were dreams it certainly wasn't her fault, so she stopped worrying about them. She and Feyela had slowly worked out a complex method of communicating that combined words from English, Spanish, and Sioux along with hand gestures that allowed them to understand one another. They still could communicate everything but with each passing day they came closer. They developed a deep and abiding friendship and truly enjoyed their time together. Caroline's evenings with Mark were wonderful; for the first time in her young life she was able to read on a daily basis and share her new knowledge with someone else. Mark seemed to enjoy it as well, and soon forgot his reluctance enough to actually sit beside her on the settee sometimes. At times Caroline felt guilty that she was enjoying herself so much.
Unfortunately cabin fever struck Mark badly towards the end of February and he began to drink heavily. Paco had a large supply of cheap whiskey on hand. "I need to get out of here so bad," he would grouse. "These walls are closing in on me."
Caroline tried to console him, but he stopped even listening while she read. She told Feyela about the problem the next morning over a cup of Winkte and her friend just smiled.
"He will be fine with the spring," she explained. "He is having the Spring Fever."
Caroline accepted her friend's opinion and tried to make things more interesting for Mark. She worked extra hard to make good meals for him, and went out of her way to choose only books that he enjoyed. By this time even Mark was referring to Caroline as 'she' and 'her' and so Caroline decided to work even harder on her appearance to enhance the illusion that she was a true woman.
"That way maybe he'll forget some of his embarrassment from before and it'll improve his mood," she explained to Feyela in their mixed language not realizing how silly her words would sound even if the Indian had a perfect grasp of what she was being told.
"Winkte," she said, smiling. Caroline didn't know what a cup of tea had to do with Mark but she accepted Feyela's invitation. How she enjoyed that tea!
Two nights later Caroline was surprised by a knock on her door. The hour was late and she was just about to get into bed, so she opened the door a little hesitantly. When she saw that it was Mark she stepped aside to allow him entry, and he quietly closed the door behind him.
"I want you to read to me," he grunted, the sour smell of whiskey reeking on his breath.
Caroline nodded and led him to a chair, then began thinking about what she could read.
"The only book I have here is poetry," she said, thinking of the slim volume that she still kept beneath her pillow.
"That's fine," Mark said. Normally he didn't like poetry so Caroline was secretly pleased.
Taking the book from its place she sat in a chair close by and opened to a favorite passage. It was called 'For the love of a woman' and spoke of a daring knight who risked all for his lady love. The man was enraptured with her and induced erotic pictures of the two of them together, though the poem itself kept the couple chaste throughout. Caroline hadn't read long before Mark abruptly stood up and left the room, a half-empty bottle she hadn't noticed before held in one hand. Sad that she had driven him away with her silly poetry, Caroline removed her robe and slide beneath the sheets with the book still in hand. Before she blew out the lantern she wanted to read that poem just once more; it always sparked some of her best dreams. It was then that she realized just how sexy and daring the nightgown she was wearing was; it was a good thing that she had been wearing her robe when she answered the door
Giggling to herself she opened the book and began to read, immediately feeling the familiar warmth that always spread through her groin when she read that poem. What would\Mark have thought to see her dressed like that? If she had been born a woman she'd have likely ended up a prostitute doing things like that.
With her arousal well under way she read the poem a second time, imagining herself in the place of the lady love as the handsome knight sought to earn her affection. Finishing it again she closed the book with a sigh and closed her eyes, forgetting for a moment that the lantern was still lit. Poetry was simply so beautiful…
Her reverie was broken by yet another knock on the door. With a bit of mischief in her heart Caroline ignored her dressing robe completely this time and simply moved to open the door dressed just as she was. Mark didn't wait for her to answer this time, and simply came straight in, catching her halfway across the floor. His eyes red from drinking he still had the bottle in his hand but the level of the liquid had been noticeably lowered. Slamming the bottle down on a table the outlaw stood and stared at the suddenly uncomfortable Caroline as she stood demurely there in the middle of the floor, her eyes downcast in embarrassment. Now that she was being seen in the nightgown, she really wished that she had the robe handy to cover herself with. Finally she turned to head for the robe but Mark's strong grip on her arm stopped her.
Turning her about Mark looked down at the beautiful woman standing before him. Her body looked female, her clothing was eminently feminine. There was nothing in the vision of beauty before him that even remotely hinted of a man. His dreams had been odd lately, and the whiskey had finally torn down most of his inhibitions. The sight of Caroline in her nightgown had finished off the last of them.
"Are you my saddle bride or not?" he demanded, dropping her arm and working at his belt. Even inebriated it took him but a moment to release it and his pants quickly fell to the floor. His cock was already rock hard and jutted upward in its need.
Caroline gasped at Mark's words and stood looking down at the erect cock in surprise. She was horrified by the outlaw's attention; there was no way that she wanted to resume her cock-sucking activities but she hesitated to say so; he was still a killer and this might be the time that he decided to finish her off once and for all. He had been drinking, hadn't he? Knowing that she had to go along with it just this once, likely Mark would be terribly embarrassed by this in the morning, she only nodded once before reaching out to hold his thick cock with one hand.
"I'm your saddle bride, Mad Mark Murphy, and I have to take care of your needs," she whispered, hoping her words would satisfy him in his drunken state.
Chapter Eleven
Growling with lust Mark scooped up his saddle bride and quickly deposited her onto the bed. Stripping off his pants and boots he crawled atop the beautiful woman who lay meekly awaiting him and knelt astride her chest. Leaning forward he plunged his hard cock into her open and inviting mouth and began to face-fuck the boy, no the woman, who had haunted his dreams for weeks now.
So great was his desire that it took no more than a few moments of feeling her soft lips and active tongue gripping and sliding along his aching cock before he began to blast stream after stream of cum into her hot mouth. Gasping and swallowing Caroline did her best to see to Mark's obvious need and managed to contain most of his seed. Anything, she told herself, to keep him from becoming angry. Once he stopped moving she nursed gently on his softening dick, still hoping to appease him, until she had sucked out every drop of his cum. Satisfied at last the drunken outlaw finally pulled his drooping cock from Caroline's mouth and collapsed across the bed. Soon he was snoring; leaving the still-reeling girl to squirm out from under him and find a more comfortable position snuggled up to his side.
Caroline awoke to find Mark snoring beside her and a beaming Feyela standing over the bed. Giving the saddle bride a hand, the Indian helped her crawl from Mark's unconscious embrace. Once free of the tangled covers Caroline helped Feyela gather up the discarded clothing and, putting on her robe this time, carry them to the wash room. Every time the two women met one another's gaze they would begin giggling again, although Caroline wasn't exactly certain why she was so giddy this morning. Certainly she hadn't wanted to suck Mark's dick, but perhaps now he would be more friendly, or perhaps not if he felt more embarrassment from allowing a boy to suck his cock. In any event Caroline felt happier than she ever had and told Feyela what had happened that night.
"Winkte," Feyela said, and Caroline was happy to accept the offer. A good cup of strong tea might wash out the taste of Mark's sperm from her mouth. It didn't taste or smell so bad at the time he was cumming but by the next morning it gave her terrible breath. By the time Caroline had finished her tea she heard Mark stagger from her room to his own, so she felt that it was safe to return for a change of clothing.
She hoped that he wouldn't be mad at her. For some reason the outfit she chose that day was possibly the most feminine dress in all of the wardrobes, with ribbons and lace in abundance. Her false breasts were a must with that dress, which she had never worn before, but she was surprised to find that the bodice fit somewhat snugly. Most of the clothing had been a perfect fit, or been too large if anything. Shrugging she forgot the problem, it wasn't that tight, and went on about her day.
By noon Mark was up and groaning over an intense hangover. He said nothing about the previous night so Caroline decided that it was possible that he didn't even remember it. Shortly after the evening meal he began to drink and an hour after sunset he was again knocking on Caroline's door.
She had waited up for him, just in case, and had read her favorite poem and some others that she really liked a number of times to prepare herself. Her outfit was even more revealing this night and Mark forced her face onto his cock while he was still standing in the doorway. Once was apparently not enough this night as he came quickly and, still rock-hard with his need, gently carried her back to the bed for a second round. This time he lay on his back and allowed her to take charge and she did so with gusto. By the time he grunted yet another blast of sperm into her wet mouth, she had licked, sucked, and gnawed his cock for nearly an hour. Her jaws ached terribly but she was oddly satisfied that he had forced her to do it again; it was important that she keep him happy to avoid death, wasn't it? She didn't believe that anymore, not in her heart, but the last vestiges of Claude buried deep inside her demanded that excuses continue to be made. His cock at last soft and relaxed and held gently in her hand, she curled up against him and they were both soon asleep.
Caroline awoke slowly the next morning, aware of the chill on her face but more intensely aware of the pleasant heat beneath the layered quilts of the bed. Mark's muscular body lay beside her and the man's body heat was amazing. After checking to see if he was still asleep she took a quick peak beneath the covers and noticed that he was sporting a massive hard-on this morning. Giggling she pulled her head back out and looked at his face again; still sleeping. Peaking again she felt an odd sensation in her chest and a strange idea came to her mind; something that she immediately had to justify to the remnants of Claude.
"If he wakes up like that, he's going to make me suck it before he gets out of bed," she thought. "So if I'm going to have to do it, I might as well get it over with." Her conscience temporarily appeased, she slid back beneath the covers and took him into her mouth.
He was very hard this morning, perhaps harder than she had ever seen him. Gripping the base with her hand she slid her mouth over the rigid monster to give it a slick coating of saliva. Stroking him firmly with her fist she pulled the dick from her lips with a soft 'pop' and began to lick it, even sucking gently on his balls from time to time. His legs moved slightly as he gave a groan of appreciation and Caroline felt the covers pulled down to reveal her nibbling her way up his massive erection.
"Good morning," she said, releasing his cock from her lips for a moment and flashing Mark a tentative smile. Whatever he had been about to say fled his mind as he returned the smile before lying back with a relaxed sigh. Taking that as a sign of approval, Caroline returned her full attention to the thick wedge of meat before her and took it back into her mouth. This time she gave him a long, loving blowjob telling herself that that is what the outlaw would demand and swearing that she wasn't enjoying it in the slightest. It took a long time to satisfy him but she stayed at the task; licking the big dick thoroughly and sliding her lips up and down his thick rod until his cum flooded her mouth once again. Thanking her for the pleasant wake up, Mark picked up his discarded clothes and walked from the room naked. Despite herself the sight of his bare buttocks caused a slight stir of desire in Caroline's feminized breast.
Later that morning Mark suggested that Caroline move some of her things into his room, and so she did secretly thrilled to be doing so. The room with the feminine clothing became her room, but before long Caroline began thinking of the master bedroom with its huge bed as 'their' room. Claude's arguments were not to be heard.
Chapter Twelve
That spring was a wet one and Caroline loved every second of it. She and Mark were together every day and spent each and every night asleep in one another's arms. She didn't have to pleasure him every day, but she certainly offered every day, and her dreams came back vividly. They were always the same; with her a complete woman and Mark fucking her voraciously. Her panties were sometimes soiled by the next morning but not often. Sometimes she masturbated when alone, thinking of Mark always, but even when she could achieve an erection she rarely produced any cum and quickly found out that she could orgasm quite well without either. Despite its small size Caroline was careful to keep her penis from Mark's sight at all times.
And keeping it hidden was getting easier; because unless Caroline was mistaken it was getting smaller, and there was no doubt that her testicles were smaller than they once were. Caroline was easily able to push the little bits of flesh back between her legs, leaving not one semi-masculine bulge in even the skimpiest of panties. And that wasn't the only change Caroline had noticed; her chest had begun to swell. By the end of the spring there was no mistaking the small breasts growing from her chest. Mark had still not seen them as May ended, but completely amazed by their appearance (and secretly thrilled) Caroline measured them daily to see if they were getting any larger. She prayed that they would and hoped that by the end of the summer she wouldn't need her false breasts to make her dresses fit properly anymore. These daily observances started a routine of daily inspection of her entire body and Caroline finally decided that she was gaining weight as well as her behind was getting fuller, he hips swelling slightly. That was no surprise; any time she ate regularly she had always gained weight first in her behind. She would be careful not to get too fat.
The only thing that disturbed the idyllic life of the valley was Mark and Paco's arguments. There weren't many and always held in Spanish, but obviously the two did not agree on something. Caroline tried to find out what but Mark ignored her requests. Feyela eventually figured it out.
"Paco, he want you back here," she explained, patting Caroline's expanding rump.
"I don't understand," responded Caroline, although she had a few suspicions. She'd heard of men who liked sex in the rear, but none of the whores she'd known at the bordello would allow it.
"Paco and Mark, they often share saddle brides, as Paco as on occasion given me to Mark. Now Paco asks for a night with you and Mark has refused."
To Caroline the only words she heard were that Feyela and Mark had been together. Jealousy raged inside her and her response was not exactly lady-like. Feyela only laughed.
"Since you came, Mark not interested in me. He only has eyes for Caroline, now."
Somewhat mollified, Caroline returned to the original discussion. Shuddering at the thought of being with Paco at all, she commented about how sad it was that Feyela had to spend her nights beneath that filthy beast.
"He is a bad man," agreed Feyela. "And a poor lover but he feeds me and that is more than other men I have known. Some fuck better but do not hunt between. So long as he does not drink too much, Paco leaves me alone until he has… this…" she said, pantomiming a cock protruding from her crotch.
"An erection?" Caroline supplied.
"Yes, and then he finds me and puts it inside me, sometimes here," she continued, pointing first towards her own crotch and then to her behind. "And sometimes here, but he is small and causes me no discomfort."
"I'm so sorry, Feyela."
"It is nothing," Feyela said, waving away Caroline's sympathy. "He is very small so I do not hurt, and when he is in front I can close my eyes and pretend he is someone else. Mark, he is a man! You and he have not fucked in ass?"
Blushing at the woman's words Caroline hastened to deny it. "No, I pleasure him with my mouth only. So far he's been content with that."
"He yes, of course, but what of you? Do you not want content?"
Caroline just laughed. "Don't worry about me, Feyela, I'm more than content."
As June began Mark and Paco left the valley; the outlaw on horseback for some type of meeting he wouldn't discuss and the Mexican in the buckboard to replenish their supplies. Caroline and Mark were passionate in their goodbyes and she wept every day that he was gone.
Feyela did what she could to cheer up the little saddle bride and began to introduce her to slightly different forms of the Winkte. Each time the flavor was subtly different and finally the Sioux woman took Caroline out to search for the plants and herbs she used to make the tea and many other things. Caroline discovered that Feyela knew a great deal about local plants and things and was amazed at what she knew. It was during this time that she realized that it was the Winkte tea that was causing her maleness to shrink and her breasts to grow. By this time they could communicate enough for Feyela to explain.
"There are some like you among my people; they are known as 'Two-Spirits' because they are born of one sex but think like the other. Females born with two spirits are allowed to hunt and war with the men while male Winkte, like you Caroline, are allowed to live as a woman. Sometimes, if the wise ones approve, the male Winkte are given certain herbs that will gradually make him more feminine. This is my gift to you."
Caroline had at first been upset that Feyela had been giving her the potion without explaining what it was doing to her, but soon enough she realized that the woman had known what was best all along and revealed to her the physical changes she had been experiencing. Feyela was delighted.
"Already you are seeing the changes? That is wonderful, you may be one of those who are chosen to complete the Winkte journey!" she had said, going on to describe Winkte who had progressed to the point of being almost completely indiscernible from natural women. Though her language wasn't completely up to the terms she needed, she managed to explain to Caroline that her testicles might eventually disappear completely and her penis shrink down to miniscule proportions and perhaps even draw back up into her body. Her breasts might grow to any size but once Feyela had examined them she declared that Caroline's would likely be larger than Feyela's own. The Indian woman taught her the precise roots and herbs to use in the tea, which was not called Winkte despite what Caroline had originally thought, and explained the proper way to harvest and prepare them. Certain ones had not been available during the winter and so Feyela predicted that the changes might occur more rapidly now that a supply of some of the more exotic herbs could be found. Excited and happy, Caroline began to plan a surprise for Mark upon his return that would involve the revelation of her budding new breasts.
Originally Mark was only supposed to be gone for a few weeks but July was very nearly over before he returned. Caroline was weeping with relief to see him and rushed to his side as soon as he rode up to the barn. Two other men were with him, however, and he did not return her enthusiasm.
"We'll talk later, Caroline," he had growled, and led the newcomers to the sitting room to talk. She had gone to her room, not their room, and cried the rest of the day.
The two strangers, a half-breed named Agunsuh and an older man with one ear that the others called 'pirate' were surly, mean fellows who ogled Caroline openly. They did their best to corner her so that could fondle her breasts and grope at her behind. Mark said little, intervening only when they attempted to take her upstairs, or take her there where they caught her, and the young saddle bride was beside herself with anguish over his lack of emotion. Feyela had it even worse, as Paco was more than willing to share his woman with the newcomers. Finally the two strangers finished conducting their business with Mark and left; soon there would be another robbery of some sort added to the record of Mad Mark Murphy.
Mark continued to be sullen with Caroline for another week and drank heavily. He had announced that his next caper would happen in late august, so he sat around the house and did little but drink. In all that time he barely touched Caroline, having come to her room only twice for middle of the night blowjobs. Showing little affection for the saddle bride, he had silently left as soon as his sperm was safely in her belly. Caroline decided that was worse than being ignored. Then one night he appeared at her door, drunk and raving at something Caroline couldn't understand.
"A man's gotta have more," he roared, kicking open the door once Caroline had released the latch. "You're my saddle bride ain't you?" he slurred, tossing aside an empty whiskey bottle and grabbing at her arm.
"You're hurting me, Mark," Caroline wailed, trying to pull away from the angry man. He was having nothing of that.
"Are you my saddle bride? Ain't you the little sissy that likes sucking dicks?" he roared, using her captive arm to sling her roughly towards the bed.
"I'm your saddle bride," she cried. "And your dick is the only one I love to suck," she said, not realizing that she had meant to say 'the only dick I've ever sucked'.
Her words had no effect on the enraged outlaw. He pushed the girl again, this time she fell against the bed. Lifting her by the waist he tossed her onto the mattress and climbed atop, pulling his cock from his pants and unceremoniously sticking it into her mouth. Gagging she tried to service him but he wouldn't let her, bucking his hips furiously as he fucked her face. Fortunately for her, he soon passed out and rolled from her before he was close to cumming and suffocating her. Lying on his side, hard cock thrusting obscenely from his jeans, he lay on her bed and began to snore. Pulling herself free, Caroline fled the room.
Unsure where to go, she couldn't go to Feyela because Paco would be there and to step foot outside unsupervised would earn her a beating she knew, Caroline found herself standing in the dining room trying to sob quietly. The last thing that she wanted to do was to wake him in that condition. Moving on into the sitting room she curled up in a chair before the unlit fire and sobbed herself to sleep, asking herself why did things have to change?
How Mark managed the stairs without alerting her Caroline had no idea, but suddenly the man was there, staggering through the door to the sitting room roaring that he was 'gonna kill her.' Shrieking in fear Caroline ran but didn't get far as Mark caught her from behind in a powerful bear hug before she could even reach the dining room table. Growling and mumbling something she couldn't understand, the drunken outlaw held her firmly against him as she struggled to get away. Her best efforts were to no avail; Mark was simply too strong and the best Caroline could do was to wiggle around within his embrace. After a moment or two of that Mark began to get quiet; the effects of Caroline's womanly bottom wiggling against his long-neglected cock simply too much to ignore even as inebriated as he was. With one last mumble he pushed the startled saddle bride so that she was bending over the dining room table. With as little delay as possible he pulled her nightgown up and her panties down and with no warning beyond that inserted his raging cock into her ass. Screaming in pain, Caroline suffered through a dozen hard strokes before passing out.
By the time she came too Mark was finished and was staggering away, mumbling 'a man's gotta have more,' before slumping down to sleep in the hallway floor. Working her way back upstairs, Caroline cleaned herself as best she could before crying herself to sleep in her own bed.
Chapter Thirteen
Caroline didn't speak with Mark for two weeks, time he spent drinking and she spent with Feyela. The Indian woman continued to act as her mentor; consoling the young saddle bride while simultaneously sharing certain secrets with her to make the next similar occurrence more endurable.
"The bacon grease will work well," she said, telling Caroline how to apply it before Mark entered her. Caroline barely listened, claiming that she would die before she let him do that to her again. Feyela continued to console her, explaining that such sex did not have to be all pain.
"I know that he hurt you, but it can be tolerable, even enjoyable if it is with the right man. Caroline rejected the woman's words and continued to sulk. The pain in her backside didn't truly stop for several days even if the worse was past far more quickly. She knew that she would never forgive Mark for what he had done.
Three days later a sober Mark came to her with tears in his eyes and a fistful of flowers he had picked for her. He apologized for what he had done and begged for her forgiveness. Not that night but the next Caroline was again sucking his cock, and by the end of the week had returned to his bed full time. They talked about his need for penetration one night.
"Why didn't you just ask? I might have tried it if you'd only asked," she said, pillowing her face in his hairy chest as she cried. His sperm was still warm and sticky on her tongue and immediately after the orgasm the subject of the rape had come up again.
Mark had tears in his eyes as well. "I never thought you'd go for it," he said. "I mean, no matter what else you are, you're still a boy despite the dresses and the makeup… I never dreamed that you'd be interested… and I didn't think I would be interested either… I've never done it before," he had said through his sobs. Caroline's heart had instantly melted.
"Let me show you just how much of a man I am," she had said quietly. Standing up on the bed, she had lifted her nightgown away, followed that by pulling down the cotton panties that was all else that she was wearing. He had gasped at the sight of budding breasts but was amazed at what little remained of her manhood.
"My breasts may be small," Caroline scolded, cupping them for him to see, "but these are the breasts of a woman, Mad Mark Murphy! This may not be a pussy," she continued, releasing her breasts and pointing to the empty bag and miniature cock between her legs, "but trust me, sir, that I am no longer a boy! I am a woman, Mark, your woman and I love you! If you have a need, ANY need, I will fulfill it. You don't have to get drunk first! I will keep my man happy but you have to tell me what you need!"
Chagrined and ashamed, Mark truly cried for the first time in his adult life then, begging for the forgiveness of his beautiful saddle bride. Caroline held him and forgave him; and soon the two were entwined in a passionate embrace that had them madly touching and stroking one another. Soon enough, but not soon enough for Caroline, Mark's thick cock was in her mouth and her heart was humming with happiness. She worked hard to get him well slick and ready, stopping once his orgasm was nearing, before saying the words she had secretly wanted to say for weeks.
"Will my husband please fuck his pretty little wife?"
Even with the help of the bacon grease it took a little time for Mark to work himself into Caroline's back door. Eventually, with enough care, grease, and a great deal of attention paid to Caroline's breasts, most of Mark's monster was firmly encased inside his saddle bride. Sighing in contentment when her husband was, finally, completely inside her, Caroline's heart sung with pure joy at how full she felt. They were joined so completely, so perfectly, that she cried tears of happiness as he began to move. His strokes were long and slow, each inward thrust met by the rising of her hips to meet him, and were topped off by the soft collision of his balls against the crack of her ass. There was some pain for the little woman, but that soon fled before the marvelous feelings that Mark's cock was generating somewhere deep inside of her. What was left of her soft little dick was leaking steadily after only a few strokes and Caroline's body was shaking with the best orgasm of her young life before a full minute had passed. Mark barely lasted much longer; the sight of his beautiful wife, her breasts bare to his gaze and her hot hole squeezing tightly on his cock was just too much, and only a few dozen strokes into their first fuck he was blasting his load deep inside of her.
The lovers wore out their bed over the coming weeks until Caroline's mouth and ass throbbed with a dull ache continually from her efforts. Mark's cock was red and raw from the constant friction but neither were the least bit reticent about falling into one another's arms at any time of the day or night. The sweet taste of his cum or the wonderful feeling of total penetration were both wonderful to Caroline, and she would often hunt her husband down if he dared get busy and not return to the house to see to her needs every few hours. Feyela worried that her friend was not eating or getting enough sleep.
"I'm eating plenty," Caroline assured her. "But you're right; I'm not getting much sleep!"
Everything was so wonderful that the couple lost track of what was going on around them, and failed to miss the growing tension between Paco and Feyela.
Chapter Fourteen
Paco was an evil man, not simply selfish or anything as simple as an outlaw. He murdered his own father as a boy and fled his home in Sonora to join a gang of bandito's. When many of his compatriots were killed by the Rurales, he turned to the Comanchero for a new career smuggling guns to sell to the Apache. When U.S. Marshals ended the career of most of his band, Paco began robbing trains and, after joining the gang of Mad Mark Murphy, banks. Not only had he murdered a number of people, he had raped his way from Mexico up into Oregon. He was hateful, spiteful, and despised women beyond serving him or satiating his physical needs. After he lost his arm from a gunshot wound that turned septic, Paco had gotten even meaner if that was possible, and despised being a handyman around Murphy's hideout. Of all the saddle brides Paco had ever taken, and over the years there had been many, it was only Feyela who had been kept around for more than a single winter. Usually he grew bored of them and found a creative way to kill them by the time spring wore around.
Feyela, however, had been different. The Sioux woman had been bought by Murphy and given to Paco. Usually the Mexican stole a woman when he wanted one or visited the nearest whore house. Wanting to keep Paco out of trouble locally, Murphy had made the necessary arrangements. Accepting of her fate as a commodity to be bought and sold, Feyela had not been necessarily willing to share her bed with Paco but did not expect anything less. The real differences between Feyela and the typical saddle bride became evident the first time that Paco had beaten her; as soon as she recovered, she had taken a plank to him while he slept. Paco had come to respect the Indian and so did not kill her that first spring. Then Murphy had brought home his latest saddle bride.
How beautiful she was! Paco had been stunned at the sight of her and had burned with lust for the girl even when he learned her true sex. Patiently he had waited for his chance to share in her charms, he did not mind backdoor sex at all, thinking that Murphy would likely tire of her by spring and be happy to share. They always had shared before; hadn't Murphy used Feyela at times in the past? Had Paco not shared what he had? But Murphy had refused and, unknown to anyone else, they had even come to blows over the problem.
Sex with Feyela now consisted of inserting his cock into the woman, usually in her behind, and imagining that the dark hair was blond and the stout thirty-year-old body of the Indian was instead the lithe teenage body of Caroline. The vision of the girl was too much for him, and he always came quickly and lately Feyela had begun to notice his lack of stamina and to laugh at him. Not openly, perhaps, but she was laughing; he could see it in her eyes. No one laughed at Paco. By the time Murphy left to meet up with six other men for his next bank job, Paco had become truly obsessed with the blond beauty living in the big house. So long as Murphy was around Paco would behave; he knew that he was no match for Murphy with a gun and couldn't hope to defeat him in a standup fight with only one arm. But as soon as the outlaw road away Paco was prepared to satisfy his lust for Caroline; he only needed to tie up a few loose ends first.
Even as Paco watched Mark and Caroline's tearful goodbye he was planning his story. 'The girl ran away right after you left and Feyela; I just got tired of her.' Not an imaginative lie but it was about as creative as Paco was capable of concocting. He would bury both women in the same grave, why dig two? Feyela would be left in the barn to ripen until Paco was finished with Caroline; then the blond would be buried at the bottom with Feyela on top. Even if Murphy chose not to believe Paco and dug up the grave, he certainly wouldn't go any deeper once he found the bloated corpse of the Indian. Paco would explain how he had trailed Caroline down the trail into Burkesburg and reported that she had taken passage on a stage. She had spoken with no one along the way. Would Murphy believe him? Maybe not; but Paco felt certain he could keep the outlaw from being sure enough to do anything about it. Then, when Murphy was asleep or had his back turned, Paco would shoot him and leave with whatever money the outlaw had taken on his last bank robbery. A simple plan and one that would work. It would serve Murphy right for becoming so struck on his little boy/girl.
Murphy rode away still blubbering after his little whore and Paco had to laugh. Murphy had always been a strong man but now he was weak; turned into a kitten by a soft tongue and willing lips. Well Paco would soon test that little mouth himself, and show the blond hussy how a man takes a woman from behind. Likely she'd be thankful for his attentions, just like she became with Murphy, the little slut. But Paco was in no hurry. He had things to prepare and so Caroline was safe that night but soon, very soon, Paco knew, it would be he fucking the blond saddle bride.
Chapter Fifteen
The second night after Mark left Caroline was awakened from a sweet dream about her lover by a single gunshot. Jumping from bed, her little heart pounding in fear, she quickly donned her dressing robe and ran downstairs. The house was quiet and a peek out the windows showed nothing amiss at Paco's cabin. Perhaps the Mexican had shot a coyote; they occasionally came near the house looking for a calf, a number of which still roamed the land. But the coyotes did not come near during the summer, only during the winter when game was scarce. Still frightened Caroline sat for hours looking out the window; expecting at any moment to see wild Indians or other strangers approaching the house. Finally dawn broke, and she allowed her fears to die.
But Feyela did not come to the house to cook breakfast. Nor did she come to prepare lunch. Paco came for both meals, eating what Caroline prepared without a word of thanks and ignoring her questions concerning Feyela.
"She is sick," he said, just before riding from the house around noon. Where was he going?
Frightened for her friend, Caroline waited until Paco was out of sight before running to the cabin and pounding on the door. When she received no answer she cautiously opened the door and realized her worst fears.
Feyela was dead.
Shrieking in horror Caroline ran from the cabin and back to the house, thinking only to hide and wait for her Mark to save her. She knew that Paco would be home soon, and she knew that the Mexican bandito would be coming for her. She'd seen the looks he sent her way, the way that he had stared at her ass and tried to look down her dress when she bent over. She thought of getting a rifle, she knew where Mark hid one, and shooting Paco if he came for her but the Mexican was ready for any such foolishness; he had left only to ride around the house and slip back inside through the front door. He was waiting for Caroline when she ran into her and Mark's room.
Hiding behind the door, Paco stepped up and wrapped his long arms around his prize; groping at her breasts and rubbing his erection into her soft ass. In Spanish he called her names as he raped her; whore, bitch, and worse. Thankfully she understood none of it. Paco was rough and brutal; ripping away her dress and tossing her face down onto the bed before pushing his cock into her from behind. She cried from the pain but most from the embarrassment. Paco's manhood was too small to cause much damage but the bandito did nothing to ease the passage of his cock. When he finished he tied up the little saddle bride and left her on the bed naked until he wanted her again, then he would return to rape her once more.
The day passed slowly for Caroline. Many women might have been broken by the abuse but she had suffered at the hands of everyone she'd ever known save Miss Vicky, so Paco's abuse was dealt with and put aside. It broke her heart that another man was tasting of her charms; she had wanted only Mark to ever make love to her. But Paco was going to do more, Caroline knew. At some point he would kill her if she didn't escape and so the saddle bride worked throughout the day to free her hands from the leather strings.
Paco drank heavily throughout the afternoon, returning once just before dark to take Caroline once more. Satiated for the moment he went back to drinking and by eight o'clock was passed out cold in the floor of the kitchen.
Caroline had made little progress on her binds but vowed to stay awake through the night to keep trying. She didn't know how long she had before Paco killed her but didn't want to give him any more chances than she had to. Unfortunately her efforts continued to be fruitless and at some point exhaustion claimed her. She awoke at the sound of the bedroom door opening and found daylight streaming in; and Paco standing naked in the doorway.
"Good morning bitch," he said in his heavily accented English. "This morning I am going to take your ass and then make you clean my cock off with your tongue," he said, laughing through the groan of a hangover induced headache. His cock was rampant and bounced comically before him as he waddled bow-legged across the room. Slapping Caroline with a backhand he forced her over onto her stomach and then pulled her ass closer to the edge of the bed. Lining up his cock with her hole he pushed it in; forcing hard against her resistance as he drove himself in to the hilt.
"Ahh, damn that feels good," he grunted. His eyes were closed as he reveled in the firm grip Caroline's body had on his cock. "No wonder Murphy keep you for himself, you one tight little bitch," he said, pulling halfway out and shoving himself back in again.
Caroline cried from the pain but otherwise tried to ignore the stinking man. He might hurt her but she fully intended not to give him the pleasure of reacting to his hurtful words and hatred. She could do nothing about the rape but she didn't have to make it any more pleasurable for Paco than she had to.
Three more strokes and Paco paused again. "You know what, bitch? Your ass is tighter than that Indian bitch's was. I'm gonna cum quick, and it's gonna be a heavy load!"
He did blow a large amount of sperm into Caroline's ass, but he never knew it. The bullet that blew apart his head saw to that.
Mark holstered his gun and with a cry of anger jerked the still twitching body of Paco off of Caroline's bare back. Cutting her free of her bindings he gathered up the sobbing girl to him and held her as she cried.
Chapter Sixteen
When his contacts had failed to meet him, Mark had returned home. Something must have happened to mess up his plans; two quick banks in Arizona and a ride back to the hideout before snow fell had been his idea. That the pirate wasn't waiting for him at the edge of his hidden valley had been a bad sign; likely the man was dead or in custody, and so Mark had quickly left. He had enough money to get him through another winter despite having pulled no jobs this whole summer and if the law were too close to his compatriots he could afford to wait until next spring. Thinking about that made him laugh; it was funny what the love of a woman could do to a man.
He had of course been surprised to find Paco fucking Caroline and for a moment the worst had been thought; that Caroline was a willing participant in the tryst. When he saw her bound hands, however, he recognized the rape for what it was. They had buried Feyela in the grave Paco had already dug but the Mexican bandito's body was dropped off near the mountains to feed the wolves and bears.
"He doesn't deserve any better," Mark told Caroline. She didn't argue one way or another. She was far more upset with the death of Feyela than she was the rape. Mark knew that she was innocent in that so she was content over that.
Mark had given his saddle bride a few days to get past the rape before he approached her and was surprised to find Caroline much more amorous than he would have expected. They again began to make love daily, sometimes more often, and spent more time in one another's arms than ever before. Some days they did not leave the bedroom until hunger drove them out and sometimes they would go days without putting on any clothes. Despite missing her friend, Caroline was happier than she had ever been.
Caroline continued to drink her herbs daily; she and Feyela had harvested more than enough to see her through the winter, and continued to keep her panties on during sex to conceal her shrinking male parts. Mark didn't mind pushing the panties aside to insert his cock and appreciated the illusion she continued to portray. By December the changes in her anatomy had become even more striking and Caroline began making plans to share something new and special with her husband.
The breasts that had begun to bud the previous spring were now full sized and rounded. These days Caroline needed the support of a bra and her nipples were large and plump. Her backside was fuller, softer, and the mere sight of her bare ass often drove Mark insane with lust. Caroline's hips had spread slightly as well, giving her a more feminine way of walking. Her voice even changed slightly, becoming a clear, sweet soprano. Not that she had sounded man-like before.
But the changes elsewhere in her body were even more dramatic; as her scrotum was completely gone now, having receded up into her body and forming the lips of her new vagina. Her cock, puny to begin with, had receded as well and was now little more than a small pink nub located inside her pussy lips. Naturally Caroline was thrilled and couldn't wait to show it to her husband, but unfortunately her new pussy had no depth to it; at least not yet. She could barely fit one finger inside it up to the first knuckle so far, but was hopeful that by the end of the year she might hold more. When she thought of Mark's massive cock she always giggled, hoping her pussy could hold a great deal more.
On New Year's Eve she asked Mark to pull off her panties and relished the look of delight that appeared on his face. They tried to fit his cock into her pussy that very night with no real success; he managed to fit the head in, barely, but that was all. Still they enjoyed the attempt and it became their routine to try it every night and by the end of February, much to their shared delight, something gave inside of her and at least half of his mammoth cock slid into her soft, wet depths.
Crying in absolute bliss Caroline locked her legs around her husband's slim waist as he fucked her pussy for the first time. The friction against her new clit was unbelievable as her body shook with orgasm after orgasm. Nothing she had ever experienced prepared her for the feelings that exploded from her vagina when Mark was inside her and when he later began experimenting with his tongue she knew that she would never be unhappy again. By the first of April he was able to work himself in to the root and the long, sweet strokes of his thick tool would keep her squirming about their silken sheets for hours. Legs spread, feet locked behind him, lifting her hips to meet his every powerful thrust; almost became Caroline's only reason for living. It was all that she thought about, sucking, kissing, and licking her husband's thick cock before he impaled her pussy upon it. Now that she could truly experience sex as a woman, having his cock in her mouth somehow meant even more to her; as if to have him in her mouth brought them closer, made them more intimate as she thanked his thick rod for the womanly pleasures it gave to her. More than once she nearly lost her voice from hours of shrieking her orgasms.
By June there was no trace of Claude left in Caroline. Not even she could find a flaw in her perfect little body. Her breasts were full and her twat perfect in ever way; she was even pleased with the way her butt looked in a mirror! She was deliriously happy as was her husband, so when he broke the news to her that morning of the fifth of June, it was almost as if he had told her that he was leaving her forever.
"I have to leave, just for a few weeks," he said, watching as his wife tearfully stroked his cock.
"You don't have to leave, you can stay here with me," she sobbed, sliding her fist up his long pole to force a small drop of precum from the tip.
"Mm," he groaned. "But I have to go; we need money."
"No we don't," she argued, licking the precum away with a firm lick. "You don't need to rob banks anymore; we can stay here! We'll be ranchers, we have everything we need right here!" she added, sliding her tongue down his aching member.
"I'm no rancher," he grunted, overcome with pleasure as Caroline took one testicle into her hot little mouth.
"You could be," she said, her voice muffled as she dropped one testicle and quickly claimed the other.
"You don't understand, Caroline, it takes a lot of money to be an outlaw… particularly a free one."
Thrilled as always when Mark said her name, Caroline responded by gently nibbling her way up his enormous length. "You don't need money for gambling, or whoring anymore," she complained, taking the head of his meat into her mouth for a soft suck before continuing. "You said so yourself."
Her lips were working their way down his dick as he tried to frame a reply, making it very difficult for Mark to think rationally as her soft tongue flickered against the underside of his cock. "And I have debts, Caroline. Debts to men who would kill us both in a heartbeat. I have to pull one more job, honey. It just has to be."
Knowing that she couldn't talk him out of it, Caroline decided to take his mind off the issue, at least for a while. Releasing her liplock from his dick with a soft 'pop', she straddled his waist and dropped one full, round breast into his mouth. As he sucked on that she stroked his hair and used one hand to guide his engorged cock into the entrance of her pussy. Typically she preferred for her husband to be on top, she adored feeling his weight atop her as they fucked, but today she mounted him as if his cock were a saddle, and slid her hot pussy down onto him. Mark grunted in pleased surprise and arched his hips upward to penetrate her to the fullest. Thankful for his efforts, Caroline closed her eyes and squeezed her cunt around him.
"I want you here with me, Mark Murphy!" she said, sliding her tight pussy up and down on his thick cock. "I want you to stay here with me."
His eyes squeezed shut as he fought the urge to already blow his load, Mark tried to answer intelligently but it all just came out garbled. Moaning a steady "Oooooo", Caroline bounced up and down his stiff pole, glorifying in the way her new clit rubbed against its hardness. Unable to just lie there, Mark grabbed her hips and rolled his bride over. Now on top and still buried inside her, the outlaw took one nipple into his mouth as he began to pound into Caroline's soft snatch. Within seconds they were both lost in a mind-blowing orgasm.
Chapter Seventeen
True to his word Mark left a few days later, intent on finding the remnants of his gang and finding a new bank or two to rob. Caroline was adamant that he stay but her tears fell for nothing; Mark knew how little money was left to him. Promising that he would be back in two months, he left his bride in the care of a new caretaker; a smiling old Indian named Long Run. He claimed to be a Cherokee from North Carolina and spoke perfect English. He had known Mark for many years and was thought to be honest. Caroline wasn't so sure and stayed well away from the old man and his one-tooth smile for weeks before she became comfortable in his presence. Eventually they became good friends and spent hours each day talking. Long Run claimed that he was too old to be interested in anything more. In truth he was very interested in what Caroline had to offer, but she wasn't offering, and he would never push the issue. Soon she became almost as a granddaughter to him, and thoughts of her as a woman left him completely… except when he accidentally caught a few tantalizing glimpses of her on bath days.
She loved being called 'Mrs. Murphy' but eventually Caroline asked Long Run to call her by her first name instead. He treated her well and never let a day pass that he didn't spend at least some time with her; listening to her read aloud or talking while she sewed. Long Run kept a close eye on the area too; his first duty was to protect the lady and he took that very seriously. Caroline had never seen him without his massive buffalo gun was nearby.
Long Run moved slowly on foot but on horseback he was as nimble as the horse he rode. The old man spent several weeks searching the valley for cattle and turned up a sizeable number of livestock. Paco and Mark would occasionally hunt a deer or a wild steer in the valley, but they hadn't realized just how many cattle were around. Long Run gathered them up, branded them all with an M bar M for Mark Murphy and let them go again. There were enough to start a real herd, he claimed, before moving on to fixing the barn roof. Repairs to the corral went quickly as did cleaning out the well. In just two months he had improved the ranch more than Paco had in six years.
"I'm going to see to it that Mr. Murphy treats you very well for all this," beamed Caroline as she surveyed more of the old fellow's handiwork. Long Run would just smile and wave away her praise. "I earn my pay; can't no one say different."
The rest of the summer was lonely for Caroline, not that Long Run wasn't good company, but she missed having a woman around to talk to and she missed Mark in a much more physical way. However she kept herself busy by taking over Feyela's garden and with the harvest she began storing food for winter. Likely half of it would go to waste, she stored so much, but it was enjoyable and passed the time. Her worries over her missing husband increased as October waned, and with the signs indicating an early winter she truly began to agonize over his whereabouts. Her worry leapt up and tried to strangle her that morning when she heard the shots.
A lone rider came down the road from the western pass riding at a dead run. Mark was supposed to return from the east so Long Run almost took a long range shot, his Sharps wasn't accurate at long ranges but the bullets would travel for some distance, but something cautioned him into withholding his fire. As the rider neared Caroline squealed in delight at the sight of her returning husband. Had the shots been merely his way of alerting them to his return? She started to run out to meet Mark but Long Run held an arm out to stop her. Surprised she looked at the old man for an explanation but the grim look on his face told her all she needed to; Mark had not signaled; someone was shooting at him.
His horse staggered as it entered the yard behind the house and nearly fell when Mark slid from it. The sound of another distant shot was followed by the sharp whine of a bullet passing overhead. Squeaking in terror Caroline wheeled about, gathered up her long skirts, and sprinted for the back door. Mark passed her and threw open the door; shielding her tiny body with his own until she had reached the safety of the kitchen. Long Run retreated to the barn, leading Mark's horse and walking slowly across the yard despite the bullets kicking up dust near his feet. Caroline could hear him singing something.
"Oh Mark!" she wailed, seeing for the first time beyond his adored face and noticing the blood flowing freely down his shirt. He ignored her words, slumping into a chair and trying to reload his rifle with one hand. Tearing at his shirt, Caroline pulled it back enough to reveal a neat hole through his upper chest, about two inches above his left nipple. The blood was flowing freely but she saw no signs of bubbles or very dark blood; two things that Feyela had taught her were dangerous signs in wounds.
"Leave me be, Caroline," Mark rasped, his breath coming fast as he tried to focus on his rifle through the pain. "There's a posse on my trail."
Ignoring him Caroline pressed a towel she grabbed off the table against the hole and a second to the exit wound in his back. She tied them into place with strips torn from her petticoats. By the time that horses were heard nearing the house, both Caroline and Mark were finished with their tasks.
Her heart pounding in fear, Caroling found herself pushed down to lie on the floor, her now ample bosom holding her head higher than she would have liked when a pair of questing bullets burst through one of the kitchen windows.
"Mad Mark Murphy; this is Deputy U.S. Marshal Colton of Braham County. Come out with your hands up now and we promise you'll not be hurt."
"You go to hell," Mark shouted, firing blindly out of a window as he threw his body atop that of his wife. A moment after he fired a volley of a least a dozen bullets passed through the room to strike the far wall.
Petrified Caroline lay silently weeping; she had no idea what to do and fear for her husband had nearly petrified her. Suddenly his weight was gone from atop her and Mark was tugging on her shoulder with his good arm.
"Get up, honey, you have to get to shelter."
"We have to get to shelter," she sobbed. But where? The house was wood and glass, nothing to stop a bullet except the logs used to build the frame. Mark must have been thinking the same thing as he cautioned her to stay low and risked a quick peek from a shattered window.
"They're surrounding the house," he whispered. "The cellar would be the safest place for you but…" he didn't finish his sentence as he snapped a quick shot out the window. No one returned fire but someone began cursing. Caroline didn't need the sentence finished; she knew that the only entrance to the cellar was outside.
With sudden inspiration Mark stepped over to the large stove and felt the top. Finding that the cast iron was giving off no heat, he threw open the oven and then the fire box, finding both empty. It had simply been too hot to cook indoors, so Long Run and Caroline had been handling those duties out of doors. Throwing her a crooked smile Mark motioned for his saddle bride to crawl into the space, which seemed quite spacious when baking but turned out to be a narrow fit for the tiny woman.
"What about you?" she whispered, her concern greater for him than for herself. No one wanted to kill her.
"Don't worry about me, this is what I do," he returned, smiling at her with his crooked grin. Despite herself Caroline's heart melted at the sight; she truly loved her man. "Take this," he added, pushing his six-gun into her hands before shoving the oven door closed. Caroline didn't have to ask why; the posse might want to celebrate with a little celebratory rape if they found her alone and unarmed.
From the barn came the dull roar of Long Run's buffalo gun. Someone outside began to scream, but the sound was cut off.
"That's one of you," shouted Mark gleefully. "How many more of you have to die before you give up? I have a lot more men on the way!" he lied. The posse didn't bother answering, but distant voices drifted in to Mark as the Marshal shifted his men around to cover the barn as well.
Mark sent a few more rounds their way just to keep their heads down and then hurried to check the front of the house; to be sure that no one was trying to come in that way. The deputies had moved more quickly than he had expected; one was already there in the front hallway.
Throwing himself back into the kitchen Mark fired from the hip with his rifle just as the .45 in the deputy's hand roared. The fall backward saved Mark's life as the bullet missed the heart it had been aimed for and instead creased the outlaw's temple as it passed and then ricocheted off the oven door. Stepping forward the unharmed deputy kept his pistol on the outlaw, thinking that the man was surely dead. Then he noticed that Mark's chest was moving. Standing there in the kitchen door he took careful aim at the center of the outlaw's forehead and the room was filled with the roar of a single shot.
Chapter Eighteen
"Ma'am" the shopkeeper said, tipping his hat as he paused his sweeping of the walkway and nodded to the beautiful woman walking by. She was well known to him, and to every one in town as she was something of a celebrity. Imagine, Mad Mark Murphy's wife right here in Brockston!
"She ought to be in jail," sniffed the shopkeeper's wife, stepping from the store to stare after Caroline.
"Naw Bette, you know they already had her hearing. No one in this country is going to blame a woman for defending her husband; particularly when he's out cold and a man's a fixin' to shoot him dead!"
"The deputy was just doing his duty," the woman spat, glaring at her husband. "Bringing down a criminal, a murderer, like Mad Mark Murphy was justice, pure and simple."
"A trial and a hangin' is proper justice, Bette, not shooting the man in cold blood. There were two witnesses who saw it happen; they had warned Hubert not to do it if Murphy could be taken alive but he had other ideas. Mrs. Murphy was completely cleared."
"Tramp!" the wife sniffed, stalking back into the store and slamming the door.
Caroline had of course heard the whole exchange; just as the woman had intended. Some of the people in the town were sympathetic to her plight but not all. She had indeed shot the deputy, and could not regret her actions. Mark was alive today, even if he was in jail, because of what she had done.
Trials moved along quickly in Brockston Nevada. Within days of the posse's return with their two prisoners, Long Run had escaped into the hills and a new posse was chasing him, Caroline had been tried and acquitted while her husband had been found guilty of a variety of crimes including the murder of two men from Brockston in Mark's latest bank robbery. Now, barely three weeks after their capture, the date of Mark's hanging had arrived; in the morning Caroline would be a widow.
Darkness was falling now as she neared the jail. The judge and the Sheriff had been kind enough to allow her to spend the last night with Mark but had refused to bring her husband to the boarding house where she had been 'incarcerated' since her arrival in Brockston. She had been surprised at the decision, particularly after her failed attempt at stealing the keys and passing them through the window to her husband. It was amazing what these men would forgive when it came to a pretty face. Her heart throbbed with fear for her husband but she had taken Mark's advice and found the inner strength to conceal her concern; she was aloof but polite to the townsfolk but found it difficult to feel friendship for them. For all the terrible crimes Mark had committed, he was still her husband and she loved him dearly, and these people were about to take him from her.
Walking sedately, she was dressed in her absolute best dress complete with bustle and multiple petticoats, Caroline finally arrived at the jail. She had insisted that the deputies bring all of her clothing, partly because she didn't know what she might need and partly because she wanted to give Long Run more time to flee, and in the end the posse had been forced to bring back two full wagons just to carry the wounded Mark and all of Caroline's clothes. She had been concerned about money but a week after arriving in Brockston she had found a small roll of bills beneath her pillow, wrapped around a single eagle feather. Long Run had been there. When the old Indian had escaped he had taken the money from Mark's last robbery with him, having recovered the cash from the outlaw's saddlebags while holed up in the barn. He must have been worried about Caroline.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to live on for some time. For now the county was paying for her room and meals, so if she was careful she would be fine for a few months at least. Her first few months as a widow.
She was already sobbing, a lacy handkerchief held to her face as she entered the Sheriff's office. He was waiting there for her, as was Deputy Marshal Colton and the Sheriff's wife Abigail. As usual Abigail was there to search Caroline, to ensure that she was smuggling nothing in to her husband. Abigail was friendly towards Caroline, she was sympathetic to any woman about to lose her husband, but was very careful with her duties. If nothing else Abigail's searches had finally convinced Caroline that her transformation into a woman was perfect. The men obediently left during the search, and were called back by Abigail to escort Caroline in to see Mark.
Mark's cell was located at the end of the small jail. Blankets had been hung over the bars to give them some privacy but Caroline knew how easy it would be for someone in an adjacent cell to reach through and move the blanket aside for a view of making love to her husband. She didn't care; she had one last night with Mark and that was all that was important now. She didn't even notice that the other cells had been emptied; all she had eyes for was Mark.
The outlaw looked haggard, as well he should. His wounded shoulder was far from healed and he kept his left arm pressed tightly to his side most of the time. The scratch on his temple was not deep but the thin line was still very visible and Mark complained of frequent headaches. He had lost weight while in the jail; partly from his wounds and partly from a loss of appetite over his impending hanging. After Caroline's attempted passing of the keys had failed, Mark had tried to talk her out of trying as he didn't want his beautiful wife to end up in prison; his only hope had been if one of his friends had decided to attempt a breakout. No one had tried. He was simply too weak to attempt anything on his own. Of all his associates only Long Run might have tried to save him, and the old Cherokee was still trying to elude the posse after him from all Mark had overheard there in the jail. It seemed as if Mad Mark Murphy's legendary luck had finally run out.
They embraced at the door of the cell and were passionately kissing before the embarrassed Sheriff could even lock the door back. With the blankets back in place the couple began making love with a ferocious intensity. Mark blasted load after load of cum into his willing wife's mouth and pussy, moaning and groaning as they each shuddered through orgasm after orgasm. By dawn they were exhausted but had stopped long enough to get dressed again, finishing only moments before the men came for Mark. Sobbing, Caroline had to be pulled from her husband's arms and while being comforted by a group of townswomen, watched in near hysterics as Mark was hung.
Chapter Nineteen
The Widow Murphy could not bear to remain in Brockston and so after seeing her husband properly buried had taken a stage from town. Several stages, actually, disembarking from one and boarding the next in a dim confusion of grief that left her only barely able to function. Returning to the hideout had never entered her mind; there were simply too many memories of Mark there now. Besides; the family of the original owners would certainly show up at some point to take possession. Eventually she found herself in a small town named Whitesburg California and with much of her money now spent, began to think about taking a job.
In what direction to take her life, Caroline had no real idea. She had more than enough offers from men wanting to set her aside for themselves, and every madam in town tried to hire her for their whorehouse before she began working as competition but she patiently refused all such offers. In Whitesburg she found an advertisement in the small local paper concerning a job teaching at the school. The school board, all men, needed only a few minutes to offer her the job at slightly more than they had originally agreed to pay whoever they hired. Each secretly hoped to find the lovely Miss Murphy, despite never actually being lawfully married she chose to keep Mark's name, very physically appreciative of their part in hiring her but they were each pleasantly rebuffed; Caroline was still grieving the loss of her husband.
Teaching school was a wonderful new experience for the former saddle bride and her first year there passed by quickly. The children loved their beautiful teacher and even the older boys behaved just so they could remain in the class and enjoy the sight of her. Behind the scenes Caroline continued to harvest the special herbs and prepared them as Feyela had taught her; she enjoyed her life as a woman and had no intentions of ever going back.
By that next summer the requests by the young men of the town to accompany them on picnics and to church became more interesting than tiresome and finally she began to accept. By the next fall one particular young man had singled himself out as her favorite and they soon became inseparable. James Walton was an engineer who worked for the railroad owned by his father. Wealthy, James did not flaunt it and worked hard laying track and digging tunnels. He was sweet, handsome, and to Caroline's surprise and delight, even more eminently endowed than Mark had been. By the following spring they were married.
Epilogue
The stage stopped in the center of the street and the handsome young passenger quickly stepped down to help his beautiful bride negotiate the narrow steps. All about the little town the men paused to gaze in awe upon the single most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen. Every inch a lady, the tiny woman glided down the walkway on the arm of her attentive husband, smiling at his jests and oozing sex appeal with every dainty step. The other women of the town, normally so grand and regal in their small way, were awed by this vision of loveliness and suddenly felt small and ugly in comparison. Expecting to be treated as the newcomer's equals, they were politely rebuffed and basically ignored by this princess.
She avoided the grand ladies but spoke to the prostitutes she passed, nodding politely and speaking a greeting to the surprised whores. She even entered one particular establishment to the surprise of everyone in the town; stepping into Lady Victoria's bordello with her handsome husband in tow. That generated no end of tongue-wagging. Barely an hour later the couple returned to the stage and left Salt Flats forever; only one person, Miss Victoria, in all the town having recognized Mrs. Caroline Walton as the former Claude.
"She patted me on the cheek and called me by name," stated a pleased Whiskey Jim. "She must know a real man when she sees one." It wouldn't occur to the old man for several weeks to wonder just how this beautiful stranger had known his name.
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