10 Pound Bag Ch 81-85

Chapter Eighty-One -- Settling the Flock

Mouse moved in.

Banshee was less than pleased at first, but she kowtowed immediately to the tall, skinny, half-breed princess. Apparently Mouse was held in high esteem, even if nobody wanted to marry her. Well, here I was, married to her.

Part of me was furious. I didn't want women around me and I wasn't happy when Sonya and then Matilda invited themselves along on my trip. Michelle had turned out to be a very comfortable friend and I now counted her as a partner - a girlfriend or wife? Well, not so much. To top all of that off, now I suddenly had two misfits and a princess to deal with. I really had wanted to spend a year just hanging out by myself on the ranch, maybe finding a local friend with benefits at my new place, but nothing like this.

I watched the women bustle around with a strange detachment; this couldn't possibly be real. The connection to the Chief felt like an onerous situation. I knew he would remain powerful for a while but the Pawnee's days were numbered. The US would switch alliances over and over again. They'd betray, then crush, each tribe separately. The people in the lodges around me would end up in a dust pit in Oklahoma in little more than a decade and there was nothing I could do to save them. Well, I could save a few and that is what I intended to do.

I needed to get home, but I needed to recover for a few more days before that could happen. I planned to use those days to understand each of these women and build a healthy bond. Mary worried me the most. She was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, extreme trauma, and extended abuse. I needed to work on her first, and daily. Mouse, I just needed to talk to, talk to a lot, and form an understanding. Banshee, well, I had no clue. I could be stuck with that one unless I could figure something out. She was over there now, making a new buckskin shirt for me and humming a happy song as she did so. I could see that she had already sewn red bead coup hashes on each sleeve. There were a lot of them.

I missed Michelle. The centuries of culture that separated me from these women was giving me brain cramps. I needed to talk with someone who could relate, at least a little bit. I needed to take a walk.

I called Mouse over.

"I need a walking stick please," I requested. "Send Banshee to have a nice one made for me. Pay the maker well."

"I do not understand why you ask me to make her do this," was her startled reply.

"You are first wife. You speak English well. I need a good stick and it must be nice. Tell her now." My voice was more forceful now.

The girl paused and then quickly went to converse with Banshee. I could hear an escalation of voices, so I loudly and firmly called "Banshee!"

She froze in mid-babble and looked at me. I pointed at the blanket on my floor in front of the bench and I'll be damned if that woman wasn't on her knees there in front of me in almost a heartbeat. She had an insolent look on her face. I simply glared at her and then called to Mary.

"Mary, bring me my switch, please."

Mary looked scared out of her mind, but rushed over with that stupid switch in hand and dropped to her knees. I took the switch and shooed her away.

"Dress," I said.

She didn't move.

Thwack, Thwack on her calf.

The dress came off and the hands went up.

"Go with Mouse!"

Thwack, thwack, thwack on that cute little ass. Gentle strokes but that cheek was still red from yesterday.

She stuck her tongue out at me.

Thwack! A healthy stroke across her breasts. She shrieked, Mouse looked shocked and Mary sighed wistfully.

"Go!"

Banshee jumped up, kissed me on the cheek, and skipped out the door pulling her tunic on as she went.

* * * * *

Christ on a mother fucking crutch, what the hell was it with that woman? Perhaps the Marquis de Sade was looking for an assistant and I could pawn her off on him? Strappings were definitely NOT going to become part of my Daily Chore List. Damn. Besides, the ol' Marquis died a few years back, didn't he? Who else was into stuff like that?

And why was Mary on her knees in front of me? This could not be good.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Please love me, too", she pleaded and put her arms behind her head. God those breasts were nice!

I had to twist this quick so I gave her a very gentle Thwack on her ass, almost a tap really.

"Mary, this switch won't work for you anymore. You need your own now."

She looked at me in confusion.

"You need to make a special one just for you and it should be pretty because you like pretty things, don't you, Mary?" I said gently.

"Yes," she giggled, "I like pretty things."

"OK, Mary, I want you to go down to the willow grove...." And I proceeded to explain to her my sudden inspiration for a complicated but pretty punishment stick. My reality had definitely left the rails quite a ways back. I was designing custom, girly, S&M toys. One too many concussions, I think.

Mary was thrilled. She hopped up, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and turned for the door.

"Mary!", I said.

She froze. "Yes?"

"Where are your ribbons, girl? How can you go out without your ribbons on, so that everyone will know you belong to me and you'll be safe?"

She raced over to her area - each of them had claimed a sleeping pallet - and came running back with a handful of cloth strips. I carefully tied a bow around each wrist, ankle, and her neck. They were clumsy bows, but they worked.

Mary looked at them, gave me a huge hug, and the actually did skip out the door.

She was insane and my life was so fucked.

* * * * *

So all of the women were out of the lodge. I could stop and think for a moment. My first thought was of escape. Could I possibly have downloaded the schematics for a massive linear super collider in my library frenzy? Odds were lower than nil. I'm fucked.

I could leave Mary at the fort. Then she would become the crazy whore whom only the drunkest and stupidest soldier would fuck and she'd die of syphilis in less than a decade. Nope, not something I could live with.

I could tie both Mary and Banshee to a large rock and throw them in the Missouri and then run a social media scam to make it look like they ran off together? Shit, wrong era.

I was left with trying to deal with it, at least until I got back to Rulo, where I always had Matilda and Michelle to fall back on.

I had a strong feeling I needed to have a long conversation with Mouse.

I knew for a fact that Pete and I were going to have some words and I think he was about to learn some of the more colorful English words in the process.

I was still fuming in my head when my Princess walked back into the room.

This was the one I was definitely stuck with.

She was headed towards me and had a crude walking stick in her hands; I bet she came in to size it.

I pointed at the floor in front of me and commanded, "Come here!"

She rushed over and started to kneel, but I stopped her, "Stand".

Damn, she was tall and elegant if she'd just stop slouching.

"Stand straight," I commanded and whacked the floor with my stupid whacking stick. Well, she reacted, and reacted quickly, suddenly looking tremendously more attractive. She was incredibly nervous and I didn't really blame her. I was allowed to beat her if I liked, as long as it was for a reason.

"Dress off!"

Wow. Major panic. So I whacked the floor again. She reacted at that; off came the dress, but she held it in front of her. She was going to drag this out.

"Hands in back and stand straight." And I whacked that poor floor again.

She did as I asked and I realized that she was a true beauty, possibly the most magnificent woman I'd ever met. She still needed to fill out a little more and most likely would, in short order. She was still way younger than I liked, but I didn't pick her out willingly.

I stood up, shakily on the up part, and drew myself to full height.

She tried to shrink back.

"Stand tall!" I ordered and she complied.

I stepped towards her until we were inches apart.

I asked her, "My wife?"

"Yes," and it was a strong reply.

I reached out slowly and put my right hand on top of her head and drew a line in the air, she watched my hand as it moved slowly towards the middle of my chin where it stopped.

"Short wife." I stated and laughed loudly. "Put your dress on, short wife, and show me what you bring to me."

I sat back down.

The confusion on her face was priceless. The girl who couldn't find a husband because she was too tall had just been laughed at and called short.

She got angry.

Now that was a surprise, she threw her dress at me and started rattling on in Pawnee and then German and finally screaming, "How Dare You!" in English.

Mission Accomplished.

Chapter Eighty-Two -- Something about Mary

I looked at my raging princess and smiled. Then I leaned to the side and looked past her at the lodge entrance, where Banshee stood with her mouth hanging open. When I smiled, Mouse glanced back and started to panic. She was caught flat out throwing a tantrum, while nude.

I casually tossed her dress back to her and asked Banshee, "Yes?"

Well, Banshee did her thing and started to babble, so I firmly said, "English," and she went to stammering, as she tried to think of the English words for whatever she had to say.

I simply pointed at the floor and said, "Sit."

Turning to Mouse I said, "Sit, please."

She started to sit on the floor and I said "No," and patted the bench next to me, "Wife sits here." With that, I had made clear my view of the pecking order. Everybody settled and I breathed for a moment, collecting my thoughts. How long had it been since I had a drink? It was obviously way past time, in my current life.

"Banshee, what is it you need?" I asked. Mouse helpfully translated and babbling woman began to babble again. Mouse eventually broke in and replied to her then turned to me and said "It is my fault. I was supposed to measure you for stick."

Well, her English was still a bit rough but it was improving by the hour. I think it was coming back to her with use. So we measured me for a walking stick and Banshee took off again. Mouse began to prepare evening supper and I dug into my pack looking for my bottle.

I had finally located both bottle and cup, only to have them both taken from my hands. Mouse said, "Wife do for you." Well, I could live with that, I think. So I dug out a cigarette, accepted the cup of bourbon and waited to see what could possibly go wrong next.

Meat was sizzling and something was boiling when Banshee and Mary showed back up. Supper was a simple affair of beans, corn, and meat. Most of it, I suspected, was the remains of the leftovers. That suited me just fine and my belly had absolutely no complaints.

I was basking in the glory of a warm meal with Mouse sitting next to me and Banshee sitting at my knee when Mary took center stage. She was blushing brightly and had something hidden behind her back. So much for my quiet evening, I had a sneaking suspicion this Mary thing was about to get a lot more complicated than I was interested in.

I held my cup out to Mouse and she refilled it for me. I then passed it to Mary, saying, "I think you will probably need this." Damn my gut instinct. Mary took the cup and drained it. Damn, that was two full shots.

"You have something to show me, Mary?" and so it started.

* * * * *

Mary was agitated, clearly nervous, ashamed and excited at the same time. I really expected her to break out in sobs or song at any moment, and that was the problem I needed to put a band-aid on. Tonight was as good as night as any. Besides, I had two women next to me I hoped would help me if things got too messy. I just needed Mary to be somewhat stable and predictable until I got her to Rulo.

I motioned Mary closer. She knelt in front of me and offered up her hand-made switch with both hands. She kept her eyes downcast and was shaking just a little, I reached out and took the offered creation.

It was actually an amazing thing, practically a work of art. She had woven multiple lengths of willow together intricately with thin strips of brightly colored cloth and what appeared to be a thin strip of white sapling skin. The handle felt like well-worked rabbit leather, attached with the same white sapling skin. The business end made me shudder. It had obviously received the most attention and was shaped like a flat whisk. It was in the shape of a flower and had bright colors woven into it as well. It also included a nasty looking ring of thorn vine.

I almost dropped it when I saw that last bit and it took me a moment to control my revulsion. This wasn't about me; this was about Mary.

"Mary, this is truly beautiful!" I exclaimed. I could see her eyes shine brightly with pride. I didn't have to fake that part; it was beautiful. If observed from a distance. In a glass case. In a museum somewhere far away from me. A picture on the Internet would have been just fine by me.

"Mary, are you a weaver?" I asked. She merely nodded in response. Banshee was staring at the switch from hell with obvious interest and a slight smile; that girl was twisted. Mouse had slid away from me and was now about two feet away, putting more bench between herself and me, with an obvious look of revulsion on her face.

Mary was still looking expectantly at me and I had to do something fast. So I hardened myself and asked, "Do you want me to punish you with this?"

Fuck me, she nodded. Mouse was furiously shaking her head and I didn't even want to see what Banshee was doing. I was frightened to know.

"Mary, you've been very good today. Why should I punish you?"

The dam inside her started to creak and crack, and she blurted out, "I need to be punished. I deserve to be punished. I need to atone!!" She pulled off her dress and bent, offering her buttocks. "Please punish me," she pleaded, "I can't sleep if you don't punish me." She was begging and crying. Fuck!

So I punished her.

It was truly horrible. I certainly hadn't practiced with that instrument of terror, so the first two swats were far harder than I would have liked. The head was heavier than the staff of the switch and whipped around to make impact. The thorns stuck for a moment when I pulled it away. Truly horrible.

Mary screamed with the first swat, whimpered with the second and simply moaned with the very light third and fourth. I managed to prevent the thorns from penetrating on the last two. Those thorns had to go. After each stroke Mary said "Thank you" and once, even, "Please more."

I handed the switch to Mouse and commanded, "Cut those thorns off now." I was harsher than I meant to be, but Mouse pulled out her paring knife and went to work immediately. She tossed each thorn in the fire as she removed it. Thank the Gods one of these women wasn't a freak.

Speaking of freaks, Banshee had her dress off and was smiling at me expectantly.

"No, this is Mary's. If you want one, you have to make your own." I immediately knew I was going to regret that last part after Mouse translated for her. "Put your dress back on."

I turned back to Mary, who was kneeling again, still crying furiously, but obviously sexually excited as well. Time to bring in that help.

I turned to Mouse who gave me the switch back. "Mouse, please ask her why she needs to be punished." She just gave me a confused look, and I repeated, "Please."

Mouse knelt down next to Mary and asked gently, "Why must you be punished?"

The flood gates gave way to the unspeakable force of misplaced guilt and Mary wailed loudly.

"It's my fault Baby Ruth is dead!"

She collapsed into Mouse's arms shaking, sobbing and keening loudly.

Holy Shit on Toast, this was bad.

Chapter Eighty-Three -- The Dam Breaks

Survivor's guilt, Stockholm Syndrome, suppressed rage, and literally a host of other diagnosable conditions. I'm no psychoanalyst, but I'd been sent to enough of them after the war to have a basic understanding. I knew I hadn't heard the worst of it yet and I delved into the bourbon a little bit more.

"Mary?"

No response; just crying.

"Mary!" I commanded and she looked at me, earning me scowls from both Mouse and Banshee.

"It's time to talk, Mary, and I want the truth." I wanted to finish this part tonight if I could, though I knew this woman really need a hospital and extended counseling. The problem was, we still had days of travel ahead of us before we could begin the slow healing process.

Mary slowly nodded, sobbing all the while.

I handed her my cup and she took another sip of bourbon, the burn seemed to help her stabilize a little.

"Where did you learn to weave, Mary?" Let's tease the door open and see if we can pull the story out.

"My mother taught all of us to weave. It's how we made money to help the family."

A start. Good. Let's get her talking freely.

"Your mother?"

"Momma was a good weaver and I learned. I can make you a basket tomorrow!"

"I'd really like that, Mary. Will you come home and make baskets for me? We need help and we need you."

"Home?", she asked.

"Of course," I answered, "I have a nice home down south a little bit with lots of nice people. We want you to come stay with us."

"I'd like to have a home again," she said. Then she started crying hard again.

Fucked that up a little, didn't I? Mouse scowled at me to confirm my thoughts. Push on.

"Please, Mary, come stay with us and that will be your new home. Mouse will be there and so will Banshee."

She smiled up at Mouse and said, "I think I'd like that." Mouse continued to comfort her and hum softly.

"Mary, why did you have to leave home?" Now I was probing.

More intense sobbing, with a scowl from Mouse and a poke in the back from Banshee, right in the sore wound spot. Thin ice ahead.

"Mary, I asked you a question."

"Because of the lake", she wailed, "I hate that damn lake."

Fuck me.

"What happened at the lake, Mary?"

"I....I got with child....preacher man....papa angry....married....had to leave." Came out in a jumbled sobbing mess. What a fucking mess.

"You had sex with the preacher?" I asked. I really couldn't afford to mince words if we were going to get through this. "Mary, let's just talk about it all, one time. You have to tell me because you belong to me."

Yeah, I've always been an asshole.

"Papa was going to kill him, but the Deacons wouldn't let him." Hmm, a moment of fierce pride.

"Kill him?"

"I didn't want to do it. He held me down and made me. My sisters found me cuz I couldn't go home.

"Mama found out cuz my mean sister, Sarah, started telling everyone. Then Papa got mad.

"Sarah got an awful whipping from Mama. Daddy wanted to beat her.

"After what Sarah had said, nobody believed that the preacher had made me. They said it was my fault for being too friendly. But he was the preacher. Why wouldn't I be nice to him?"

She was rolling now and I just let her go on.

"We had to be married and we had to leave town cuz mama and papa where kicking up such a fuss. Papa had friends and they were fixin' to hang the preacher, but everyone else thought it was my fault.

"It must have been my fault. He read to me from the bible every night after we left, and the bible always said it was me that was evil. He was right, of course. It was my fault and now he was forced to take care of me for my wicked ways. He punished me every night for my wicked ways and did that with me again because I tempted him again.

"But then Baby Ruth Ann came and I was happy. She was so beautiful. But he started drinking more and nobody wanted to hear his preaching. So me and Ruth Ann had to beg people for money. He would punish me more if I didn't get enough."

She stopped there. Hell, I'd heard enough already to want to castrate the fucker and force him to eat his own balls. Mouse had quietly kept up a running translation for Banshee and both of the women had scary Matilda-like looks on their faces. I gave Mary another sip of bourbon.r"

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