Running Bear -- Part 2

Running Bear -- Part 2

Running Bear was laid out on his back, his legs tied securely to two stakes pounded deep in the ground. Under his buttocks was a large log, almost a foot in diameter. The log had been wrapped in the skins of many deer, and so the bark of the log was not touching his skin and might have even made a comfortable pad if he had been sitting. But he wasn’t sitting, and Running Bear was anything but comfortable...his hands had been stretched out and tied to two other stakes, stretching his body out wide and open, his midsection jutting up to the sky as he was splayed out over the Log of Punishment. His feet were spread apart on one side of the log, his hands wide apart on the other side. Nearby the great fire burned brightly, and the sparks flew into the night sky, as the drums pounded out their sound cutting the quite of the night. His feet felt the heat from the fire, warm and almost too hot to stand. He could do nothing...but listen and watch and wait. He struggled against the ropes, and as he did, because his hips were higher than his head, he felt his dick fall forward and up towards the top of the loincloth. The loincloth slid upward as well, almost flipping over. Luckily it didn’t, but the brave’s testicles were visible now to anyone seated near the fire, and he dared not move again for if the loincloth flipped up vertically and fell down across his belly he would be laying totally exposed to everyone.

It was a bad position to be in. And an embarrassing one too. True, Running Bear still wore his loincloth, but nothing more, and it wasn’t hiding his sex like it would have had he been allowed to stand. The other young braves were dancing around the fire, all dressed in rich ceremonial costumes representing the creatures of the forest. And when he raised up his head he could see the council of elders were seated on deerskins and were passing the smoke pipe from one to another. They too were dressed in the outfits of the ceremonial warrior, and their feathered headdresses made them look even more foreboding than they were. Running Bear had the look of absolute fear...a fear like no other fear he had ever had. He had always dreamed of the day of his mating ceremony, wondered what his wife would be like, who the council would choose for him to take to his bed. He had dreamed of Fleeting Dove, and White Feather and Soft Fur. He longed for them...any one of them would make a good life mate. It was all up to the council. He remembered all too well when his good friend White Hawk had been mated with Two Dogs Fucking. Oh how they had all laughed then. There was even a joke about her and how she was named. Now, here he was, in a far worse situation, and it was nothing like the way it was supposed to be. He had dreamed of the Lust Night and had anticipated it for as long as he had had his sex hair. But never, NEVER, had he dreamed it like the reality of what was happening....

This was a nightmare, a dead dream and an embarrassment that no brave should ever have to face. They were going to take his sex and give it to the white man! With the thought he struggled again against the ropes, a fruitless gesture that moved his loincloth another ¼ inch higher up his belly. His mind raced with worry, with the unknown of what was about to take place. A thousand questions ripped through his brain. Was he really going to be mated? How could they do that, if he was not allowed to stay a man? A mating ceremony followed by WHAT? No brave’s marriage was ever consummated in public, so how would that be done? In fact, to his knowledge, he could never remember a time when the Log of Punishment had been used on a warrior of the tribe. Normally, these punishment ceremonies were reserved for their enemies, and yet, here he was, and the council had spoken and without doubt he was definitely tied over the Log of Punishment. Oh it was soooo embarrassing! And the words of the elders were still ringing in his ears---his sex... ‘to be given back to the white man.’ The words had shocked him then, and they shocked him still. If the elders had spoke true, then as sure as the sun would rise in the east he knew his loins were lost. But who would take them, how would it be done? He had seen a prisoner castrated once, when he was young, and had listened to the man’s screams as he watched him bleed to death like some deer whose throat had been slit. And now, how would they do it to him? Would he too bleed to death, or would they still let him live? And afterwards.....afterwards if he lived, what then? He would be less than a brave, less than a boy....less than a woman even. He would be a NOTVAT, a nothing. They had said he was to be mated. He had asked for it, and now it was to happen? How? A mating was for life. What could he offer a woman if he had nothing between his legs?

His mind was racing with the questions. Normally, in a mating ceremony the woman accepted the man and indicated her acceptance by removing the man’s loincloth, reaching out and holding his manhood to show her approval. Then, if he grew hard from her touch, he was considered to have accepted her, and then as the tribe congratulated them the two would then enter the Lust Tent to spend the remainder of the night together. There, during the Lust Night the new husband would spend the evening planting his seed again and again and again and the drums would beat all night to cover any sounds the couple made. Then, in the morning, the two would emerge to the cheers of the village, and they would be together forevermore.

Now, tied up he didn’t see how he could do his part....and how could he, the Running Bear, mount a woman if he was tied down like a dog? He was laying over the log on his back--how could he be joined like that? And if they were joined, how would they get to the Lust Tent if they did not untie him? And no marriage was completed without it being consummated. There could be no other option! Surely they wouldn’t let her mount HIM, not here, with the rest of the men watching? To be mounted by a woman while he was underneath, while other men watched, that was not even comprehensible. No brave would be forced to endure that embarrassment! No...he let that thought leave his mind. But there was another even bigger problem that worried him as much as anything. All matings were for life. A woman assigned a man and a man assigned a woman were mated forever, and there was no way to end a marriage made by the council of elders. A wife was a man’s property, to be there when he came in from battle, to look after his wounds, to bear his children, to make his dinner. But if they took his sex, and he was mated, he would be less than her, and because of that, he would then be HER slave, and live the rest of his life in the fields scratching goatberries and mending skins and minding her bidding. NO! How could they do this to him, the son of Eagleclaw???

There was one hope, but he knew that it was not much of one. If he could keep his prick under control, to will it not to grow hard, then there would not be a mating. A brave that did not respond to a woman he was promised was freed from the bond. If a brave’s manhood stayed soft and relaxed when he saw his bride, then the council would not insist that the mating go forward. It was a chance, and he had known braves that found other wives by being able to control their erections. And if there was no mating, then perhaps they might even let him go free, whip him instead like a boy. Yes, a whipping....that’s what this should be!

But if he grew rigid then what? He was certainly tied up. He was their prisoner, and his fate was in the hands of the elders. If they decided to do what they had said, then he was lost, and so were his balls and his shaft and all that made him a man. He assumed he would bleed to death like the prisoner he had watched. No, he just could not allow himself to grow hard, he just could not. But then he remembered his best friend White Hawk, and how he had told him that was his plan when he had been set for mating. He remembered his friend’s plan well, as he so desperately fought to stay soft when he had been given Two Dogs Fucking for his wife. And yet, with only a single touch from the ugly woman the boy’s prick had risen straight and hard and true, and as the other braves had laughed, it had been his undoing and they had been joined for life by the council of elders. He always wondered about their first night in the Lust Tent, and was always curious if White Hawk’s prick had stayed hard and excited when it was free to make its entry.

Suddenly, the drums stopped! There was dead silence for over a minute, and then, slowly, very slowly, the great chief rose, and broke the silence with these words: “Before the sun rises again we have a debt to pay. I have thought this out, and my words and my thoughts are true. The warrior before us, the son of the Eagle Claw, a brave called Running Bear, has brought a great danger to our village. He has a heavy price to pay, but only his sacrifice tonight can save us from a terrible war. He has ask to be mated before he is punished, and I have granted his wish. In respect for those wishes, I give him my daughter, Pure Snow, to be his wife and life partner from this day forward and forevermore.”

There was a murmur in the tribe, that rippled throughout the fire circle. Pure Snow, the beautiful daughter of the sacred one, the one great best woman of all the unmarried women was the bride selected by the council! It was hard to believe. The great chief had given his only daughter to be mated with Running Bear, at least as long as he lived. Ah, perhaps that was the trick. Would the marriage last just minutes, until her new husband lost his life blood through a severed prick? Or, was she doomed to a life with a husband who had nothing between his legs? If that was the future, why would the great chief doom his daughter to it? Everyone stared; wondered--questioned. Not a sound came from any mouth, not a ripple of noise and even the falling of the leaves were louder than the voices of the fire ring. Maybe there was hope. Would the council really take away the sex from the husband of the great chief’s daughter?

Suddenly, a loan figure could be seen coming up from the village toward the council fire. She was dressed in a gown of Eagle feathers, and she almost radiated in the moonlight. All eyes watched her approach. She was beautiful, more than that, she was gorgeous. Pure Snow--a name that befitted her. She had seen 17 seasons, and was ready for mating. Her breasts swayed gently, large and filling and firm. She walked slowly, like the daughter of the Great One would walk....oh she was so fine. She was getting closer, and all eyes were upon her, watching her. She was smiling, her pure white teeth glistening. As she came into the circle of fire she walked directly up to her father, the Great One, and stared him in the eyes. He placed his right arm on her shoulder, and then, slowly, the great chief handed her the great knife from the gold scabbard that hung from his waist. No one dared to move. No one dared to speak. She took it, touched it, moved her delicate fingers along its razor edge, and then, slowly, very slowly, she took the hooked blade and reached down towards the loincloth that was covering Running Bear. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear.... In a quick, upward pull, she cut through the leather cord, and with a single pull she removed the boys loincloth and looked at his manhood, dropping his loincloth into the firepit. Her smile was enough; and as she smiled down on the trussed out teenage boy below her his dick started to grow rigid, even as he fought desperately to keep it soft. Soon, his manhood was jutting up toward the sky....its big purple head actually bobbing obscenely to his heartbeat and his big balls firm and hard and hot from the fire, almost like two plums ripe for the taking.

The great elder, with eyes that looker weary and old, looked down, and when the boy’s erection had arched up hard and stiff with his sign of acceptance, the drums began to beat, and the elder spoke these words: “As the Great Chief, I can see the acceptance of this man for this woman. Let the council not interfere, and let these two be now joined from this time forward, now, and forevermore. Under the power of the sun god, these two are now mated, one and the same, and only death can break this bond. What has been joined today let no man ever put asunder.”

Running Bear was as hard as he had ever been. Damn....he hadn’t had a chance. The daughter of the chief! Oh damn she looked so fucking beautiful! Why had he been given her? So, that was it. He was married, his wife, now...and forever. Would they untie him now and allow him the dignity to at least consummate the joining? He was supposed to be going to the Lust Tent.....but he didn’t see anyone moving to let that happen. Were they going to kill him before his marriage was completed? He struggled again with the bonds...his hard dick jutting up to the sky, all eyes watching its purple head bouncing and begging for the release that was every married man’s right.

Slowly, Pure Snow reached down and squatting above him, she took his sex hair in her fingers, and reaching up with the razor knife, she sliced off a tuft of his pubic hair in a single stroke of the knife! He gasped....and then she did it again! He called out, “Stop!” “Stop it now Pure Snow....I am Running Bear....” She ignored him, and took another tuft of hair and sliced it off. And then again! With each slice his man fur was being removed from his body, the sex hair that had taken him more than 4 years to grow was gone in only a few minutes. He protested throughout all of it, told his woman to leave him be, but she just kept at it, removing his hair in spite of his protests. The embarrassment was more than he could take---a woman was supposed to follow her man, yet she defiled him, as everyone looked on. And spread eagled as he was, there was nothing he could do about it. The other braves were in shock at what she was doing. No woman would every defile a man so. Yet, she did it without hesitation, preparing her new husband for a life without any of it. In only a few minutes, his sex hair was gone completely and the entire tribe was awed by what she had dared to do to him. Running Bear’s face was red with shame.

Then, she stood up, and turning around to face the fire circle, she started to straddled him, one leg on each side of his thighs. She slipped the string from around her waist, and as she removed the feather garments that covered the lower half of her body, her sex was visible, moist and wet. Running Bear saw the garments fall, and his prick bobbed with excitement. He screamed out “NOOOOOO!” I am a man....I demand to be taken to the Lust Tent---it is my RIGHT!!!!!” The Great Chief spoke “SILENCE. You are a prisoner, and you should be happy your request to be mated was granted by the council. Say no more words, or you will lose your tongue as well.” Running Bear stared at him....knowing he could not speak. It was so unfair...and the shame of what was about to happen was more than any man should ever have to endure. Slowly, very slowly, she lowered herself onto the tied up teen.... She took the knife, and dropped it into the edge of the fire ring, letting the blade rest on the coals. Then, Running Bear let out a moan, that was deep and primal as he felt his new wife lowering herself upon him. From the braves watching, there was a collective gasp. Even in his shame, Running Bear had never felt anything so good, and as the braves looked on, all were mesmerized by the sight of this most beautiful woman slowly swallowing the boys stiff prick until it was deep and buried inside of her. It appeared that there would be no Lust Tent...not for Running Bear. His marriage was being consummated in the open, and he had no control over any of it. It was here, public, primal, visible. Sex upon sex. Woman upon man. Running Bear closed his eyes in shame....his new wife mounting him like a man...riding him, as he lay on his back and his hips, forced up by the log beneath him, jutting his cock and balls towards the sky and into her. She rode him like a animal, up and down, up and down, almost the way he had ridden the settler girl that very morning. She smiled as she rode him, totally in control, deciding how high she would ride and how fast her thrusts took place. The drums beat loudly, and Running Bear could do nothing but lay on the ground like a woman, letting the girl work his flesh up and down, moving continuously along his rigid shaft. As the braves and the council elders watched the girl fuck her new husband, they could see the wetness of their sex as his prick glistened in the firelight. He was struggling against the ropes, and the other braves watched his struggle and felt his embarrassment.

Even with his eyes closed it was obvious that Running Bear was losing control. His nipples were becoming pointed and firm, his rippled muscles of his flat belly betrayed his lust and he began to thrust up to meet her. His ballsack looked huge in the firelight, the heat of the fire warming his great eggs that were hanging down like the balls of a huge bull. As she worked his shaft, they swung to the movement, boucing against the log as he grunted from the pleasure. Then, Pure Snow reached out to the edge of the fire ring and took the knife in her hand....

[Author’s note: I would appreciate any feedback on this storyline from anyone that reads it. Either post your feedback or write me direct if you prefer. If it’s something you like, I’ll finish it.--thanks! Nathan ([email protected]) ]