("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Wolf - 4: Wolf With The Ten Little Indians
by Jack Rabbit (address withheld)
***
Visiting Raven Indian Maiden Bluebird tells Sara in
detail how years earlier she and nine other young
captives of the Ohapi tribe were given to Wolf as sex
slaves as a reward for saving the life of the Ohapi
chief’s son. (M/f, reluct, slave, voy, mast, 1st, ped,
oral, fan)
***
WOLF MEETS GRANDMA - PART 1
WOLF WITH HANSEL AND GRETEL - PART 2
WOLF AND JACK - PART 3
WOLF WITH THE TEN LITTLE INDIANS - PART 4
WOLF WITH THE THREE LITTLE PIGS - PART 5
WOLF MEETS LITTLE RED - PART 6
Author Note: This story is a work of fantasy fiction,
adapted from traditional fairy tales written as
creative entertainment, and should not be viewed as
more than a work of fiction. The Wolf stories tell of
his intimate adventures from a Grandma's point of view.
ARCHIVIST'S NOTE: The author did not supply a contact
address so we are unable to direct you to any other
parts unless they are supplied by the author.
***
When Wolf first arrived out of nowhere, offering to do
handyman work in exchange for a place to stay for a few
days, I got to know him as a hard working gentleman. He
told me then that he was a traveler, who had stayed
awhile with the Indians once upon a time, but little
more. As I got comfortable with him staying in what
used to be my kids room, I grew to like him a lot, but
puzzled at his secretive ways.
For a traveling mountain man he had a friendly
demeanor, and some talents you wouldn't expect. He was
an artist of sorts, keeping a few artist's tools in his
pack horse's saddlebags. He used those sketch pads to
draw up plans for making things I needed, like cooling
shelves. He surprised me with a few sketches of me.
I was curious to see more of his artwork, thinking it
would offer more detail about his interests, his past.
One morning, while he was in the barn working with the
animals and I was all caught up with making my pies,
having a dozen baking in the oven, I decided to do the
laundry. I grabbed the blankets and nightclothes from
my bed, putting them in the tub of water for washing.
In Wolf's room I gathered his blankets and dirty
clothes, and again found one of those moistened rags
under the bed. It finally dawned on me. He had been
silently masturbating, using the rags to capture his
ejaculations. That's why I heard the bed squeaking from
behind closed doors. Also beside the bed was one of his
mystery sketchbooks. A title hand printed on it read,
"Ten Little Indians" My curiosity peaked. After putting
his clothes in the tub to let them soak, I took the
book to the table to have a look-see.
The sketchbook was filled with attractive drawings of
young Indian girls, talented pen and ink line drawings,
filled in with water colors. The first drawing was of a
group of ten similarly thin, young girls wearing
buckskin dresses, all standing in bunches. They
appeared similar, with tan, high cheeked faces and
straight, long black hair. Yet, each had a distinctive
face. The next ten pictures were facial portraits of
each girl, apparently aged from about eighteen down to
about eight.
At first I though they were of the same girl showing
ten years of growing up, but then I saw the differences
in lips, noses, eyes. Each of the ten facial portraits
had a name printed at the bottom; Morning Flower, Grey
Coyote, and Running Deer were the names for the oldest
looking, with Buttercup, White Lily, Forest Rabbit,
Mountain Snow, and Shining Stone the names that
followed. The youngest girls were Bluebird and Water
Stone. Following the portraits were several artworks of
the girls, in clusters of two or three, but instead of
buckskin dresses, they wore only narrow, draping loin
cloths held low on their hips, tied with leather
straps.
The only other attire they wore were beaded necklaces
and head bands. They looked back at the artist with
twinkling eyes plus grins or expressions of
indifference. All of the young bodies were bare except
for those low riding loincloths. Each girl taunted with
a pair of erect brown nipples sticking up from tan
chests. The three smallest of the models were too young
for breasts. The next five, a little older, had budding
cones of early puberty. The two oldest offered women's
shapely hips and large full breasts. Sticking up from
their different sized breasts were raised round areoles
hills topped with puffy cherry pit like brown tips.
I flipped back looking for publishing detail. None. The
rest of artworks stunned my sensitivities. It was
filled with renditions of each of those same ten little
Indians in the nude. Like artists nudes of posed women,
there was no indication of anything overtly sexual,
except the full frontal nudity of ten young girls. They
had different poses. Some stood holding their hair or
carried food trays. Some squatted, or kneeled, or lay
on the ground on their backs. One looked back from a
being positioned on all fours. All displayed hairless
little pussies.
A drawing of the youngest showed her leaning back from
a sitting position on the ground, knees elevated, arms
supporting her from behind, a laughing smile on her
lips, a twinkle in the eyes, and a beckoning pinkish
vagina prominently displayed. At the back there were a
dozen scenic views showing the girls inside teepees,
next to pine trees, splashing in lakes, flowering
bushes, then about ten blank sheets.
I was stunned. These images of naked little Indians
obviously aroused Wolf. He had been masturbating to the
artworks. Were those his artworks? Had he known those
little girls as nude models? I wondered where the book
came from. I was a little bothered, but I knew how this
was with men. I remembered my childhood sneaking a peek
of my brother getting excited after seeing a cousin
naked. Even Charlie surprised me with a hidden stash of
girlie magazines. I closed the book and put it away.
How should I react? How did I feel about what I now
understood about Wolf? For the rest of the morning I
thought about him and the "Ten Little Indians".
At the time I was a little confused, but I kept quiet.
Like when we had inadvertently watch the young shepherd
girls Mary and Bo Peep swimming nude in the lake, he
made no secret that he was easily aroused by little
girls. Then Hansel and Gretel stayed with us, sharing
their children's sexual adventurism with the two of us.
Not only did I watch Wolf's pedophilia as he had sex
with eleven year old Gretel, I experienced those
pleasures myself with Hansel. Sex with fourteen year
old Hansel had been so much more satisfying than
anything I could remember. Wolf and I missed those kids
when they moved on.
A few days after Hansel and Gretel left we got a
surprise visitor. Young Jack McCain was bringing a load
of supplies from town, and with him on the buckboard
was a bronze skinned Indian woman. Wearing a buckskin
dress, she was lithe shaped, with long black hair in
two braids, her age appeared to be late thirties.
"Miss Sara," Jack announced, "This woman got off the
westbound stage to lay over a day. At Kelly's Eatery
she overheard talk about a traveler named Wolf staying
with you. She thought she might know him from long ago,
so I offered to bring her out to see for herself."
"Lady Sara," the woman got down from the wagon to greet
me with a pleasing smile. "My name is Bluebird. I would
like to talk to Wolf if he is the friend I knew long
ago."
The name was familiar. She was one of the little girls
in his sketch book "Ten Little Indians". That image was
of a child of ten, and this woman was in her mid
thirties. Wolf must have known the Indian girls a
quarter century earlier. I quickly overcame the
surprise and greeted her. I told her Wolf was out in
the forest, that he would be back in a few hours for
dinner. I invited her to stay for dinner if she wished,
that I would see that she had a ride back to town.
She offered to help me prepare my pies, so we unloaded
her bags from Jack's wagon and sent him on his way. As
we settled in the kitchen to prepare more pies she
volunteered a little information about herself. We
talked about how she knew Wolf. She was married to a
blacksmith who died recently.
At the moment she was traveling on her own to visit the
tribe she came from. When her stage stopped in town,
she overheard a couple of people talking about a
handyman named Wolf, and their descriptions sounded a
lot like a traveling trader man she who had been a
friend and protector when she was a child. If he were
the same man, she hoped to see him again.
Curious about the girls in Wolf's sketch book, I
volunteered that I had seen Wolf's sketch book titled
"Ten Little Indians". Was she the 'Bluebird' in those
artworks?
She thought a little to recall, then grinned sheepishly
and momentarily blushed. "I remember him being an
artist," She then asked, "Did Wolf tell you about that
sketchbook?" She blushed. Bluebird then asked to see
the book.
"I never asked him, but I've been most curious" I
poured us each a glass of cider, went to Wolf's room
and retrieved the sketch book. She studied at the
artworks one at a time. She smiled and said, "You don't
want to know the details behind this. It's a bit
erotic."
"I've have my own erotic stories about Wolf," I sipped
my drink, "What you have to say couldn't be naughtier
than what I've done with him."
Bluebird looked up from a sketch of her naked as a
child. She pointed to the drawing, "That was me nearly
thirty years ago. I was a sex slave for Wolf then, and
I enjoyed it."
I adjusted my chair a little, "Tell me everything. I
would love to know the details."
"When I was a child, my tribe of Raven Indians was at
war with the Ohapi tribe. One morning, when most of our
braves were away hunting buffalo, the Ohapi attacked
our camp, killing the braves still there. Raven
children were taken as slaves for the Ohapi to use
tending crops. A month after we became servants to the
Ohapi," She put the sketchbook aside, and returned to
working the pie filling mix with experienced hands.
"Wolf rode into the village, trading blankets and pots
and pans and hunting knives for furs that he could sell
to white buyers. He was very friendly to all the women
and children, giving out mirrors and jewelry and candy.
To the surprise of the Ohapi he even gave little gifts
to us Raven slaves, something they thought was not
necessary."
"When he left we thought we would see him no more, but
he was beside a mountain stream fishing at the same
time a band of Ohapi braves rode by as part of a
hunting party. Suddenly a cougar dropped from a tree on
one of the braves, knocking him off his horse. Being
close, Wolf pulled a knife and charged the cat,
wrestling it away from the brave. That brave was the
chief's son, and Wolf saved his life.
"The chief's son was bruised, slashed, and bleeding,
but the injuries weren't too serious. However, the cat
had clawed Wolf's leg deeply. Standing up from killing
the cougar, he prepared to face the galloping horse-
mounted hunting party rushing to them. The chief
signaled his warriors that Wolf was a friend to whom he
owed much. As matters calmed, Wolf reacted to his
injuries and blood loss. He collapsed. Both Wolf and
the chief's son were brought back to their camp on
horse drawn litters"
The story got more to the point after that. Because he
had saved the chief's son, Wolf was owed a great debt.
They would take care of him until he got back to
health, and they would reward him. He would stay in a
teepee with several of the Raven slaves who were tasked
to nurse his wounds. Wolf tried to object, but soon
realized he was in bad shape.
He had lost a lot of blood, and the gouges got
infected. He got sick and went to sleep for several
days. Myself, ten year old Bluebird, along with Morning
Flower, Grey Coyote, and Running Deer were the Raven
girls who stayed in Wolf's teepee to care for him. We
had been forced to gather foods in the meadows or do
laundry or whatever the tribal women wanted.
They frequently whipped us if they were unhappy with
something we did. Twice young slaves tried to run away,
but when they were caught they were tied up and hung
upside down from a tree for two days to teach them.
Ohapi women beat them with sticks as they hung there.
Being given to Wolf as his servants was much better for
us.
For several days we treated his cuts with mosses and
medicines, feeding him soup when he woke enough to eat.
He slowly improved. Being cared for by so many barely
clothed young girls started to stimulate his sexual
appetite. His manhood stiffened like a post as the
girls cleaned the wounds. When the chief heard of his
arousal, he ordered Morning Flower to satisfy the
passions.
I watched with amazement when Morning Flower pulled
back the blanket that was concealing Wolf's big thing.
With the other maidens watching, she grasped it with
her hand and started going up and down. This was a
fascinating scene for my child's eyes. Seeing his look
of happiness was something I never forgot. I was
surprised when his manhood started squirting like a
fountain. Once he calmed down, Morning Flower cleaned
the mess with a damp cloth, covered him again with
blankets, and soon had him asleep once more.
I was excited by what I saw, and felt a tingling
between my legs. I kept watching him as he slept. When
he woke again I squatted on my haunches to tried to
feed him. With Running Dear and Buttercup watching, he
sat up, reached out to my face and ran his fingers
through my hair, blowing me a kiss. I smiled and tried
to feed him more soup, but he dropped his hand to
massage one my legs.
I said nothing, but I understood if Wolf's touching me
pleased him, it was what the chief wanted me to do. I
opened my legs a little. With his hands Wolf shifted
the material of my loin cloth to one side, and pushed
his fingers into the lips of my slit. Running Deer and
Buttercup were open mouth and wide eyed watching, but I
felt a pleasure I had not known before. He rubbed his
fingers up and down within my girlhood.
Not knowing what to say, I put the food aside, reached
under his blanket, and began rubbing his manhood the
way Morning Flower had done earlier. I felt a warm
wetness draining from inside me as my pleasure senses
intensified. We both soon erupted to make a mess, a
mess we left there as we lay down together, holding
each other's sex organ. I sort of expected for Wolf to
try to put his thing in me, but he was too badly
injured to try at that moment. He went to sleep again
Later he needed to empty his bladder, but he couldn't
even walk without help. Running Deer and Buttercup
helped him up, each with one of his arms around each of
their shoulders. They stepped out of the teepee toward
a bush outside of the camp. Careful not to bump his
claw scars, Buttercup reached out and held his unit as
he emptied a stream of yellow pee that had been
building up. Once it was empty, it was still erect in
the grip of her hand. He reached his hands down the two
girl's bare chest to fondle their nipples. His playful
fingers got them giggling as they stumbled back into
the tent.
Laying him back down, Running Deer had Buttercup
release her grip on his post. Running Deer carefully
climbed on top of Wolf in a way to avoid hurting his
wounds. She guided herself onto his throbbing manhood.
She closed her legs together as he spread his, then she
started pumping up and down and around and around. With
his hands on her back, she did this repeatedly until he
came within her. I remained quiet, watching the
interaction from across the teepee, reliving in my mind
the ecstasy of his finger probing my pussy. They fell
asleep in that position. I felt envious that he had not
gotten inside me all the way like that. I fell asleep
myself.
With each passing day he grew stronger, and with it,
his appetite for love making escalated. Gray Coyote and
Forest Rabbit took him to the stream to bath him,
sitting him on an old log while they washed him. When
they tried to stand in front of him to wash his hair,
he reached out hands to take Forest Rabbit by the rump,
and pulled her to him so that her small conical breasts
pressed into his mouth.
She giggled when he began suckling her nipple, and
playfully slapped his head, telling him to calm down.
He smiled up at her, then pulled her hips down towards
his, sliding his rigid shaft under her vagina. Gray
Coyote poured a bowl of cold water on his head, but it
had no effect. He reached down, lifted one of Forest
Rabbit's legs enough to enable him to guide himself
into her anxiously awaiting love tunnel.
He sat on that log peacefully holding her rump as she
raised and lowered her hips on top of him. With Forest
Rabbit hugging and kissing his head, Wolf went back to
sucking on her titties. With his manhood deep inside
her love canal, Forest Rabbit squeezed and massaged it
with her uterus muscles until his eruption began
filling her with cum. Grey Coyote watched, waiting for
her turn.
When they finished, Wolf lay back on the grass beside
the stream to recover his composure. With a twinkle in
his eye, he invited Coyote to do the same thing. His
post had wilted as expected, but when Coyote started
washing away the sticky fluids, it rose to her touch. I
watched from upstream as he pulled her on to him, being
careful to not disturb the claw scars. After that bath
is when he started drawing in a sketchbook. He was
quite good, as you can see.
I, and the other slave maidens, followed him around and
saw to his desires to keep faith with the chief's
command. Other than being used the way young girls
should not be used, we had fun. Wolf was tender and
sharing and a friend to each and all of us. When tribal
women tried to whip us, Wolf protected us. Those women
grumbled, but went along with Wolf's wishes. The chief
granted ten slave maidens to Wolf in reward. If Wolf
did not mistreat his slaves, that was his business,
even if the tribal elders found it confusing.
The girls took turns escorting Wolf through the village
to meet with the chief, or to give him a bath, or to
dress his wounds. Knowing it made him happy to have fun
with their bodies, they played sexual games with him
whenever they had him alone, and his amorous appetite
was insatiable.
Often it was up to me and Water Stone, a girl a year
younger than myself, to feed him. We learned to
approach him wearing only skimpy loin clothes held up
with a leather strap. They were easy to get off when he
wanted to fondle our hairless, puffy vaginas, which he
did often, and those garments did not cover our chests,
leaving our bare nipples sticking out for him to suckle
on.
I was jealous of the older girls having intercourse
with him, so I tried getting up on him to lower myself
over his post. I was too tight, so the head of his
penis kept slipping out of the slit. That created a
problem, because my footing would slip and bring pain
to those wounds. However, after a few days his scars
healed enough for him to roll over on his stomach. I
lay down so he could position himself over me. With my
legs apart, he slid his manhood up and back sandwiched
within the lips of my vagina. That felt so good.
Then he reached between us to guide that big head into
the canal. Barely inside, I could sense him pressing
against my maiden head. That hurt. He started pushing
harder, creating a pain that made me whimper. He
retracted a little like he was going to get off me. I
didn't want him to stop, but then he pushed hard and
deep. The pain intensified as he burst through the
membrane.
Then the hurt ebbed and it started to feel good. I mean
he pushed in as far as he could go. He rested a moment
with his shaft deep inside me, and then he started
slowly pumping up and back. It felt real good. I felt
the ecstasy of my first climax coming in wave after
wave as his throbbing manhood quivered and filled me
with his sticky fluid.
Water Stone sat next to us watching in amazement during
the entire episode, reaching her hand between her legs
to manipulate her own pussy nub to the rhythm of my
experience. A half hour later, as he lay back from his
effort with me, she started rubbing him, reviving his
erection. She was successful. He was too tired to mount
her the way he had me, so he encouraged her to try to
kiss it. Having had observed the older girls doing
this, she tried, but her mouth was too small to engulf
the head of his penis, so she began licking the head.
Her little fingers grasped the shaft as best she could,
rubbing it up and down. Wolf had her give up what they
were doing to change positions. Both adjusted their
positions to lay on their sides with her hips in front
of his face, her head parallel with his stomach. As she
hugged his waist, he used his hand to lift one her legs
enough for him to nuzzle his lips against her crotch.
He stuck out his tongue, pushing it within the slit.
He began tasting her juices. Moaning and giggling, she
held herself snuggly to his mid section as he continued
to lick her vagina, shifting to poking his tongue
against the maidenhead membrane waiting for his
attention. As the action continued, she leaned back a
little, reached for his manhood, and started rubbing
it, quivering her own hips at the same time. His
continued oral stimulation brought her to a series of
multiple climaxes.
He wasn't finished yet. He sat up, rolled her over on
her back, then positioned himself over her like he had
done with me. With a silly smiled on her lips, her
hands balancing herself, and her legs spread, he
lowered himself. Mindful of his pain-sensitive scars,
he slowly impaled her, penetrating her membrane far
more quickly than he had mine. Grimacing at the
stretching caused by mating her small child's love
tunnel with his thick shaft, she yelped a little, but
the oral stimulation had lubricated and loosened her
pussy muscles enough.
She relaxed, closed her eyes, then lay back with an
open mouth smile. Once they were fully joined, he
slowly rotated his hips, and one again began doing
pushups with his hips. A few minutes later his hose
blew, filling her tight opening with juices that oozed
back out around their union. Once again he was
exhausted. He rolled over to lay down. Not bothering to
clean our messes, Water Stone and I snuggled up next to
each of his arms, where we all passed out for a needed
nap.
A month after that recovery, Wolf was well enough to
move on. He considered staying with the tribe to enjoy
the benefits of his harem, but we all knew that wasn't
workable. He would never be an Indian, and with a
family of ten Raven slave girls as wives, he wouldn't
fit comfortably with the Ohapi's for long. He traded
most of what he had left in exchange for a teepee and a
couple of additional horses. Wolf led us away from
Ohapi lands. All ten of us were glad to be free from
the harsh Ohapi treatment, and we had learned to enjoy
having sex with Wolf as a large sisterhood. When we
were moving camp or finding food, he kept us busy with
an unending appetite for sex.
He couldn't take us to his white world, because they
did not like Indians, and would especially despise his
arranged harem. He chose to lead us back to Raven
lands. Although we were considered damaged maidens
because we had been his sex servants, we were welcomed
back by what remained of our families. He was welcome
to stay because he had rescued us and returned us home.
Wolf stayed another month in the Raven camp, hunting
and fishing and having sex every day with the ten of
us. But, he was a traveler, and he wanted to move on.
Bluebird's story was captivating, but left me with many
questions. "Did he just desert you? Did he ever come
back? What became of all the girls?"
She explained "Wolf couldn't take us with him. Raven
maidens would not be accepted by other Indian tribes.
He went back east for a time to restock what he needed
for trading with the Indians. He came back in the
winter with gifts for all of us. Things had changed.
Three of the girls were pregnant from Wolf. The Raven
tribal council commanded that those babies be raised as
Raven culture, not as a part of the white man's world.
Many of girls had mated with other braves and could no
longer serve Wolf. We were all happy to see him again,
but we were no longer Ohapi slaves serving him, and our
Raven tribe had absolved us of our marriage to Wolf.
Four of the girls continued to share his teepee while
he was there, and he thought about changing from a
traveling trader to a homesteader, but that didn't
happen. He moved on and all of the girls eventually
found other husbands and settled down without him. I
had married a blacksmith who recently died. But while I
was married I bore him three sons. They're grown and
off to California to look for gold."
She concluded her story with, "I've been on my own for
awhile, and am traveling back to visit the Raven tribe.
I had a good life, and a good family, but I never
forgot my childhood sexual friend, Wolf. I miss the
sisterhood I had with the other girls trying to keep up
with his sexual drives. I miss him, and often get
urges dreaming of the way it used to be."
"Miss Sara," Bluebird asked, "You said you had your own
naughty stories about Wolf. Is he still as amorous as
he was back then?"
We had finished making the pies while she told her
story. I was about to answer her question, when Wolf
walked in. Her spur of the moment afternoon visit to my
house to see and old friend lasted two memorable weeks.
Bluebird stayed in a second bed in the spare room with
Wolf, and every night for two weeks those squeaky
springs would keep me awake late.
To be continued...
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Kristen's collection - Directory 52