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You lifted the basket to rest at your hip, turning away from the rickety old porch and stepped inside of the colonial home. You had just watched Charles and Sadie ride off in search of more food, probably towards the edge of this damned swamp for deer, anything but whatever slop Pearson would come up with. Sadie was hesitant to leave at first, offering you multiple times to come along, but you stayed back. You still had a lot to do, and you surely didn’t want Ms. Grimshaw to erupt when she saw everyone had left and that nothing was clean.
Everyone had left, going off into groups to their own places. Who went into town for medicines and quick bounty work, who went off for food, who went off for a ride to clear their heads. It was just you left at camp.
You wiped your forehead at the sweat that had gathered at your hairline. You hated being in the swamp, it was horrible. It was constantly hot and humid, you were constantly bitten by bugs and kept awake at night by croaking frogs and chirping crickets. You sneered at the thoughts of what laid out in the mud and murky pools in the swap, what reptiles and fish were just waiting for you to just cross by and drag you through to kill you.
You found your refuge in the Shady Belle from the balmy heat, padding through the house and climbed the stairs to start putting your clothing away in the old wooden dressers you and your husband used, folded the freshly dried clothes before putting them away in the drawers. You were halfway through the basket before you realized you had somehow grabbed the wrong laundry from the makeshift clothesline you had set up when you and the other women in camp had washed clothing earlier this morning. You cursed to yourself softly and hoisted the half-filled basket before turning around on the creaky flooring and started your way down the stairs. You had turned the corner, aiming to leave through the large wooden doors when you stopped out of shock and fear.
You had dropped the basket of clean laundry, the wicker and wood cracked against the hardwood floors that were just swept and the laundry piles spilled out.
There was a man, a stranger in Shady Belle, in your camp’s hideout. His back was turned to you, he was crouched down and was rummaging through a chest on the floor, its contents were pooled on the floor. You could tell even with him crouched down that he was big and broad.
His head shot up and he turned to look at you as soon as he heard the basket crackle on the ground. You froze in his gaze, you wanted to just shrink down and hide. You felt like prey, especially when he started to stand up and turn to face you fully, you felt the colors drain from your face. The sweaty balm on your body made your skin feel icy and made your hair want to stand up straight.
He was tall and very broad, definitely an imposing figure that could easily snuff you out if he wanted to. His cornflower blue shirt was rumpled, the sleeves had been bunched up at the elbow to show off his strong forearms. Dark pants hid tall and strong legs that he could catch up to you should you run. He wore a black cavalry hat, the lip nearly hiding his eyes in shadows, a black bandana was wrapped around his nose and mouth, obscuring his face from you. Your eyes fell to his waist where you saw a holster strapped to his hip, a customized cattleman revolver sat heavy in the holster. Alongside the gun was a heavy knife tucked into his belt, the blade looked freshly cleaned and sharpened. A lasso wound from thick rope and leather was fashioned to his other hip.
You shivered under his direct gaze, taking a small step backward. You nearly whimpered in fear when he took a step towards you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your breath was stuttering, you felt your eyes stinging with tears of fright.
He was going to kill you.
“Well look at you,” the intruder drawled. “I thought this place was empty, sure was a surprise to see yer still home.” He took another step closer to you, you took another step back. “And what a surprise you are, darlin’.”
The dress you were wearing suddenly felt like it weighed one hundred pounds. It was a gift from your husband, a light floral printed dress he had gotten it in Valentine as a surprise for you. You loved wearing it, but now, you felt disgusting in it.
“Please, take whatever and leave. I won’t stop you,” you pleaded. He stepped forward again, unimpressed by your little attempt to be brave. “Please, I-I won’t report you, I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
“Oh, I know what I want now,” he growled from behind the bandana.
You felt absolutely sullied being in his sight, your heart dropped right into your stomach.
You didn’t even have a chance to take off, you were able to turn around and take a run a few steps before he was upon you. You were slammed into a wall, his large meaty hands were pinning you against the wall by your shoulders, your front and face hit the wall. You sobbed, turning your head to the side as tears had started to fall down your cheeks as the man pressed himself up against your back. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey, his hot breath hit the back of your neck. He pressed fully up against you, one of his hands leaving your neck to grab at you, a big calloused hand running down your hips to your waist and soon to your-
You strike behind you, your elbow collided with his ribs and catching the intruder off guard and causing him to stumble back from you. Taking the opportunity, you managed to squirm out of his iron grasp and fumbled through the house. It didn’t take him long to come right after you, heavy footfalls were right behind you, his booming voice threatening you. You turned on a corner and tried for the stairs, slipping over the low hemline of your dress, your knees collided with the hard wood and you cried out.
You were yanked back, his hand had snatched at your ankle and dragged you down, tearing the low hemline of your dress as you tried to dig your heels into the wood to stop him. Your nails dug into the wood, cracking when he dragged you down until you were beneath him.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin,” he growled as he grabbed onto your wrists. You thrashed in his grip, trying to kick at him, wriggle your way out again, something other than just letting him win. He snatched at the lasso from his hip, quickly weaving it around your wrists, binding them together so tight that any movement burned your skin. You desperately tried to push him away, your trembling fingers managed to snatch onto his bandana and jerk it down, revealing his rugged face. He was stunned for a split second before rage washed over his face. “You fucked up, little miss.”
He snatched at the torn hemline of your dress, completely ripping it off of your dress and stuffed the torn garment into your mouth to silence your cries and pleading. He hoisted you up the rest of the way, his heavy feet threatening the old wooden stairs below you as he threw you suddenly over his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch with your weight now on his broad shoulder as he stomped up the stairs and threw open the first door he could find.
Your room.
Without a care, the intruder hoisted you off of his shoulder and tossed you carelessly. You landed on the bedframe with a sob, the gag muffling your cries. You twisted around to see him kick closed the door, the wood slamming echoed through the house. You trembled as you stared at him with wide eyes.
He blocked the entire door with his broad body, he loomed over you, a horrible scowl on his face. He was furious, hands clenched into fists and he was breathing heavily.
“You really fucked up now, darlin’,” he sneered. You cried into the gag when he stomped over.
He grabbed at your ankle with a harsh grip and yanked you to the edge of the bed. Your scream was muffled, you were trembling worse than a branch in a storm. Your eyes were wide and full of tears as you stared up at him, dreading what his next move would be.
He grabbed at the shoulders of your dress and knotted his fingers in the collar, tearing the material with his bare strength. The fabric tore down your neck and past your breasts, revealing your brassiere to him. His rough hands went right to your breasts, calloused hands cupped your breasts and groped you through the thick material. His hands were dirty, covered in gunpowder and dirt and soiling the white material of your brassiere. He slid his hands beneath the hard wires and caressed the sensitive skin of your breasts. You whimpered into the gag, trying to push it out of your mouth with your tongue as tears started to stream down your cheeks.
“You feel so soft,” he purred. His touch was strangely soft now that he was violating your personal space after nearly killing you just moments ago. He eyed the wedding band on your finger and a spark really seemed to light in his eye. “How’d yer husband feel if he walked in here to see me touchin’ his wife?” You cursed him out behind the gag, barely managing to get words like ‘fuck and ‘kill’ and ‘bastard’ out through his howls of laughter. “Yer husband’s gon’ kill me? Think he’ll be stunned when he sees me fuckin’ his pretty little wife, don’t you?”
Your blood ran cold, your heart stopped for what felt like eternity. You shook your head, eyes dripping with salty tears, pleading with the man behind the gag as he grabbed onto your brasserie again and ripped it off of your body, the fabric tearing cut through the still and thick air. He looked at your naked breasts with a ravenous hunger in his evil green eyes, hands grabbing them and started to squeeze your chest with vigor. You whined and tried to kick him off, but the man’s strong stature denied you completely. Instead, he straddled you at the knees, hunching over you slightly to toy with your naked breasts. Dirty nails scratching your skin, calloused fingers squeezing your nipples, strong hands grabbing at your chest to try to get a noise out of you.
Seeing that you weren’t giving him what he wanted, he stopped violating your breasts and grabbed onto the remaining scraps of your dress and yanked again, completely tearing apart the rest of the dress and leaving you only in your white panties. He did away with them as he had done with your dress and brasserie, tearing it off of your body and now leaving you completely nude to his eyes.
One of his hands trailed down to your womanhood, hand caressing your sensitive flesh before parting you open with one finger. You winced, his calloused finger scratched at your skin uncomfortably as he plunged it deeper into your passageway. You cried when he started to finger-fuck you, his eyes trained on your body, ramping up the speed at which he tortured you. He soon added another finger, starting to open you up, enjoying what he was dragging out of you.
“Gettin’ wet from another man? Boy, I’d bet yer husband would be pissed,” he mocked as he fingered your slick walls.
You whined and tried to wriggle loose. The man laughed, taunting you, loving every second of the torture he put onto you.
He had stopped suddenly and sat back, large hands going right to his belt where he fumbled with it. You pleaded once more, eyes wide with terror as you shook your head. He had pulled out his large cock, fully erect now in his hand. He sat back up and dragged the head of his dick over your slick entrance, barely passing it through your walls to tease you before lining himself up.
You screamed when he roughly thrusted into you, your back lifting off of the bed to try and ease the pain he was causing you only for him to push you back down flat onto the bed.
He groaned lowly as he tried to get adjusted to how tight you were, fighting you back down when you tried to move and squirm with both hands now on your shoulders. He sank into you until he was fully hilted before he started to move. He started slow, trying to ease you open more, hissing at how tight you were still even after he finger fucked you open. His hips soon started to piston like a well-oiled machine, dragging his cock nearly out of you before plunging back in. The moans and words that left his mouth were vile, surely to haunt you for the rest of you life. He was quick to ramp up the speed, the bed creaking with every thrust, the mattress moving and the floors beneath squeaking.
You cried into the gag, eyes wincing and your hands balled into fists as the rope around them burned. He smirked, moaned, and laughed at you.
You moaned when he thrusted against a bundle of sensitive nerves inside of you, earning a howling laugh front him as he relentlessly pounded into you.
“Look at you,” he sneered as he pounded into you from above, “moanin’ as another man fucks you. What would that husband of yers think?”
You had somehow loosened the rope around your wrists just enough to squeeze out of them, opting to grab at the sheets rather than grab onto him. The gag was still in your mouth covered in your spit, still muffling your whimpers and now unfortunately your moans too.
You felt pressure build up inside of you, like hot metal in a forge right inside of your core. Your arousal was coming fast, and you couldn’t do anything about it. All you could do was just lay there as this man violated you.
You came with a cry, sobbing as your body was wracked with both arousal and shame. The man laughed at you, taunting you as he continued to fuck you.
“Cummin’ ‘round another man’s cock, now that’s somethin’ else, sweetheart.” You felt his cock twitch inside of you not too long after, your mind hazy from your climax and your body wanting to go limp. His groans were getting heavier and his thrusts were more sloppy. “Wonder how yer husband’ll feel knowin’ you got fucked by another man? Knowin’ that yer leakin’ my seed?”
He kept thrusting into you, his grip on your shoulders was bruising. He was getting sloppy, slowly losing control of his hips, he faltered and hunching over you, spilling his seed right into you, cumming with a heavy groan. He stayed that way, cock still inside of you until it had grown flaccid and leaned over you, riding out his high inside of your throbbing womanhood until he had finally got off.
He stood from the bed and stalked out of your sight and you rolled to your side, starting to sob to yourself quietly, afraid of the man that still lurked in your bedroom until he came into view once more.
“You say anythin’ to anyone, and I’ll come back, ya hear?” he threatened down at you as he fumbled with his belt.
You heaved, your legs trembled as you clenched them together. Your entire naked body was drenched in a cold sweat, your inner thighs sticky your horrid arousal and his sticky cum that was still dripping onto the sheets still warm. He pushed himself off of the bed, you could barely see him through the strands of hair clinging to your tear-streaked face. You saw him for a brief moment, and the next he was gone without a sound, leaving you alone to curl up into a ball and sob to yourself quietly.
He was quick, rushing out to his horse behind the house and rummaged through her satchel bag for a small leather satchel before turning on his heel and rushing back into the house. He had made sure to grab a tin cup from a nearby table and dunked it into the bucket of fresh water nearby before disappearing into the house.
He was quiet when he entered the house, slowly taking the stairs one at a time as to not spill the water, wincing as the wood creaked eerily under his weight. He came up to the tall door that was partially open from when he slammed it at his exit, nudging his foot into the doorway and poking his head in.
His heart was pounding in his ears, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you still on the bed. You were sobbing softly, you had rolled over onto your side and faced away from the door, the gag had been spit out and had fallen to the floor. You were trembling still, trying to breathe calmly between sobs. His eyes rolled over the bruises and marks he had left on your body from thrashing you around and his eyes stayed on the ruined scraps of your dress on the floor. He would have to buy you a new dress soon.
He licked his lips and looked back at you.
“(Y/n)?” he called softly. He stepped into the room and carefully approached you. You stirred, your trembling had nearly stopped and your sobs had been cut short. “(Y/n), sweetheart, are ya alright?”
“Arthur?” you whimpered.
You wiped your face with the back of your hands before turning to look at him.
Arthur moved to set the cup and satchel down and sat next to you on the rickety bed. His large hands rubbed calming circles into your back.
“Darlin’, I didn’ hurt ya, did I?” he worried, combing his fingers through your hair.
“N-no,” you had finally caught your breath and your sniffles had quieted down some. “I-I liked it, I just need a minute.”
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and sat up.
“I love ya, sweetheart. I got ya somethin’.”
Arthur grabbed at the satchel and put it in front of you for you to open. You fumbled with the latch and slipped open the leather to find three bars of chocolate as well as some other sweets stuffed inside of the leather.
He reached across and wiped away the stray tear that had started to roll down your cheek.
“I should head on down, clean up the mess I made,” Arthur hummed.
Before he could stand up, you stopped him, wrapping your hand around his wrist. His brilliant green eyes met yours. God, he loved looking into your eyes even when they were rimmed red from crying.
“Stay with me? Please?” you pleaded softly.
“Always.”