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Description: A sequel to Blondie's Sacrifice

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Tags: rape mf bound duplicity 

Author Topic: Yukon Gold [Winner of July/August 2019]  (Read 490 times)

Offline Alec Durbervilles

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Yukon Gold [Winner of July/August 2019]
« on: July 31, 2019, 03:12:07 PM »
3104 words.

This is a sequel to Blondie's Sacrifice.

Summer days are endless in the Yukon. It messes with your sleep. Some people just follow the clock and go to bed when the time comes, even though it's light out at both ends of the slumber. Others can't do that so they mimic the night with dark curtains and other gimmicks. Henry didn't try to fight it. He slept when it was dark. As a consequence, his summer days were filled with activity, whether physical or mental, and these nineteen hour days allowed him to do a lot.

Henry had arrived in Whitehorse two days ago, after a series of short rides he hitched, mostly from truckers who were going to or from logging roads. He and Blondie had parted ways in Tok. She wanted to go to Fairbanks and she wanted Henry to accompany her there. Henry wanted to go to Canada and he didn't care whether she went with him or not. So he began hitching again, not a new experience. He slept rough most nights and he ate sparingly. So, his first priority upon arriving in Whitehorse was to find a job - any job would do, no matter how menial, as long as it could include some food and a place to lie down at night and maybe wash up a bit. He got a few meals and a barn to sleep in on day one by helping a grizzled old man repair his fence. That evening, he was able to clean up in a crystal clear brook that he assumed was a tributary of the Yukon River farther down.

On day two, he walked closer into town and helped out in a diner. Henry was only familiar with the customer side of diners but it didn't take much ingenuity to know how to empty trash, clean tables, organize the pantry, unclog a sink, and fix a loose door hinge. He was fed pretty well but Jake, the owner, couldn't help him with any kind of lodging.

Henry traveled as a way to find stories to write about. Even if he had the money, he wouldn't fly from place to place. For him, it was all about meeting people, talking to people, experiencing and witnessing life. While bussing tables at the diner, Henry was amused several times by hearing only the barest snippets of conversations. Surely they made sense in whatever context they were being held but it struck him as odd anyway.

At one point, he heard a woman's voice say, "...like a pound of butter." The man she was with answered, "Yeah, but the sand in his toes had to..."

Another time, he heard a guy trying to impress a girl. "I was real good in school and was gonna be a doctor but one day I woke up and said to myself, I just don't think I want to spend the rest of my..." The conversation faded into incomprehensibility to Henry and he preferred it that way.

At about 7:30 in the evening, still three or four hours of daylight left, Henry thanked Jake for the food, said goodbye, and walked toward the center of town. It didn't take long. The whole town could be traversed on foot in about 30 minutes.

When he reached the center, and then walked perpendicularly toward what looked like a promising direction, he came to a rundown bar called Gold Stake Saloon. The name was painted on the flat side of a split log that hung from the overhang of the roof just above the door. It wasn't lit up and Henry wondered if the establishment even had electricity. It was an old log cabin structure that had seen better days maybe 30 or 40 years ago. But Henry thought, "nothing ventured, nothing gained," and went in.

Inside, it was almost empty of people. There was a bearded, pot bellied guy behind the bar watching an old television mounted just above eye level - apparently there was electricity. He had a face that looked forty or more years old but Henry felt he was in his twenties. On a bar stool at the very end, farthest from the door, there was an old coot with both elbows on the bar, his hands cupped under his chin, holding his head to keep it from sagging all the way down. His hands kept his jaw clenched but his lips were parted and pursed outwards and he was breathing loudly in and out through his teeth. He had a red, knobby, bloated, drunk's nose that probably didn't allow the passage of much air and he appeared to be dozing. There were several empty shot glasses in front of him. "The regular," Henry thought.

He approached the barkeep, who surely knew he was there since the place was so empty, but he continued staring at the TV. Henry waited a polite few moments before saying, "Hey, any chance I can get some work here? I'm pretty handy. I know my way around a bar. And I don't need much, just maybe a bite to eat and a shed to sleep in tonight."

The guy rotated reluctantly toward Henry, at first keeping his eyes riveted on the TV, but then looking Henry up and down without saying a thing. Finally, after rubbing his dirty beard in one hand, he said, "No. Don't have much work to do. Can't help you."

"Do you know of any place I might have better luck? Anyone needing a hand? I'm not looking for anything long term. Just passing through."

Too quickly, the bartender answered, "No, I don't. If you have money and want a drink I can help you. Otherwise, beat it."

Henry encountered lots of rude people so he didn't take it personally. "Alright. Thanks anyway." He began to turn toward the door when two things happened. First, an old wall mounted princess rotary phone with a twisted cord that reached the floor, began to ring and second, the old drunk animatedly motioned Henry to come to him. The bartender answered the phone and, being curious, Henry walked toward the man on the barstool.

When he got to the man, Henry heard the bartender say, "Huh. Funny you should ask..."

But the bartender's voice was drowned out by the old man, who said, "I got me a piece of a crik that's full o' gold. I could use some help."

Henry knew the history of the Yukon and its gold rush. Those days were long gone. They were long gone before the old drunk was even born. Still, Henry was curious. The view into the old man's life might add to Henry's bank of stories and experiences. "When's the last time you worked your claim?" asked Henry.

And just that quickly, the delusions and the "crazy" started to pour out. "Standing in the White Horse rapids, I can pan a ounce o' gold ever hour. A man your size and youth can easily get twice that. It's just a short walk from here. Why just last week, I..."

The White Horse rapids were covered by Schwatka Lake, created by a dam built in the middle of the last century. The old man must have been a young boy the last time the rapids existed.

"...Yeah, I understand. You're right. I can see that. I'll get Donna on it." The bartender's voice, though quiet and guarded, came into focus in Henry's brain as the drunk's ramblings faded off. More out of context snippets.

Henry patted the old man on the back and turned toward the door to leave. "Maybe next time, old timer. Good luck to you."

As Henry walked the fifteen or twenty steps to the door, he felt the eyes of the bartender on him and he sensed a change in the bartender's voice - lower tones, longer spaces between words; a common thing to do when holding a conversation that you know other people can hear.

Henry slept under a flatbed truck that night. Four or five hours on his back, at the tail end of a large truck, the bed high enough above him he couldn't reach up to touch it. Not all that comfortable but he had slept in worse places.

He wandered a bit. It was still early and the tourist bustle had not yet begun. Traffic was very sparse. Most businesses were still closed. He went to the long lake that stretched alongside the town and that covered the rocks that made the original rapids and cleaned himself up a bit. He drank a few handfuls of the water, not worrying that it might be polluted. Everything was almost pristine here.

Later that day, Henry found a little work helping unload a truck at a hardware store. He earned ten dollars - four Loonies and three Toonies - and a few granola bars. Not bad for less than an hour's work.

He wandered around town, looking in store windows and up and down the main street, over to another diner and asked the employees if there might be anything he can do for work. Nothing. He sat at the long bar and ordered a coffee. As he was slowly drinking his coffee, he noticed a young woman at the other end of the bar. She had been looking at him but as soon as his eyes steered her direction, she looked down at her cell phone. She had long, chestnut colored hair and a slender face with a gently rounded chin. He couldn't tell what color her eyes were but he could tell she was quite beautiful.

She was wearing a black tank top and well fitting jeans and the waitress was just setting a plate in front of her. She held her phone up to her ear and began talking too quietly for Henry to make out what she was saying. Henry sipped his coffee. Over the course of the next half hour, she looked at him and he looked at her. Their eyes met a few times, but neither one smiled or nodded or acknowledged the other.

Henry chatted up the waitress to see if she had any ideas for his work prospects. But she didn't. Martha - her nametag said Martha -  didn't know anyone, having only just arrived herself for the summer tourist season. The pretty girl at the other end continued talking on her phone, a different call, a different conversation, and she was becoming a little agitated. However, Henry couldn't hear what she was saying.

Martha brought the check to the pretty girl and Henry could see them talking longer than you might expect for a simple breakfast transaction. Then, they both looked toward Henry while continuing to speak. The pretty girl passed Martha some cash and got up from her stool. She walked toward Henry and maintained eye contact while she approached.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but that waitress said you were looking for work."

"Yes, Martha told you the truth."

"Well, I don't know if this interests you but I'm in a bit of a bind. I manage several cabins for Airbnb and my cleaning crew ditched on me this morning. I have to get four cabins cleaned up and ready for new guests by three this afternoon."

"I'd be happy to help. And very grateful for the work."

"But you don't know what I'm paying."

"It doesn't matter. I'm sure you're a decent and fair woman. Whatever you're offering will be great. But what's Air B and B?"

"Uh, bed and breakfast. Airbnb is an online booking company. It's like a way to connect people who have lodging with people who need lodging. Um, anyway, I can show you what to do in the first one and then I'll give you a list of the others and you can find them and do the same. I usually pay my crew - a woman and her daughter - $25 per cabin and each cabin takes maybe an hour to do. What do you say?"

"Yes and thank you."

"I'll drop you off at the first, show you what to do, and then come back to bring you to the second."

"Sounds great. My name is Henry." Henry held out his hand.

She shook his hand. "I'm Bella. Thanks so much for helping out."

Bella brought Henry to the first Cabin, which had been vacated only a short while before, and showed him where things were and what to do. While he was cleaning, changing linens and towels, and straightening up the kitchen, Bella ran through a checklist to make sure everything was accounted for and undamaged. For the second cabin, she dropped him off and left, coming back an hour later. They worked their way through all four cabins and when they got into Bella's car to go back to town, she gave him $100.

"Thank you so much for helping me today. Will you be around tomorrow for more of the same? I don't know yet if my normal crew will be back. If not, I may need you again."

"Yeah, I'll be here. If you'll take me back to town, I'll find a place for the night and then tomorrow morning, if you need me, I'll be in the diner again."

"Henry, why don't you crash on my couch? It isn't much but why spend your money on a hotel? I don't mind. Besides, I think you're harmless," she said jokingly.

At first, he declined, not really sure he wanted to stay much longer. But she insisted and pressed him (a little too hard he thought) until he accepted her offer and by way of thanks, said he would cook dinner for them both. She drove them to her place, a semi-remote cabin, similar in many ways to the cabins he had spent the day cleaning. She allowed him to take a shower and wash his clothes as the afternoon progressed. They chatted and got to know each other better. By early evening, he settled into the kitchen and began seasoning a couple of steaks while Bella wandered around outside the cabin talking on her phone.

A short while later, after dinner was done, they sat on the comfortable easy chairs in her big room across from each other. Henry had started a fire in the stone hearth. It almost seemed romantic and inevitable that one thing would lead to another and they would end up fucking. But romantic it was not.

After a pause in their conversation, Henry said, "Bella, stand here in front of me and strip naked."

Bella's eyes flew open and she stiffened in her chair. "What??? You have a lot of nerve."

"I'm going to fuck you and either you'll cooperate and spare your clothes and save yourself some bruising or you won't and I'll fuck you anyway. I'll have to tear your clothes off and I can't guarantee you won't be hurt."

Bella tried to quickly dash toward the door but Henry was on her instantly. He stopped talking and got down to business, throwing her onto her back on the rug in front of the fireplace. He straddled her with one hand on her neck while his other hand began ripping her tank top off her body. The fabric was thin so it came off cleanly. At first she bucked and hit at him and grabbed at his arm around her neck. Then, she clawed at him. A short, quick slap on the face jarred her senseless for a few moments, just long enough for Henry to use the shreds of her tank top to tie one of her wrists to the other.

She was strangely quiet. Henry expected screaming and panic and he did see panic in her eyes and face. She just didn't express her fear or rage or disbelief vocally. Perhaps the shock of what was happening to her focused all of her energy into a physical struggle that left little room for reason or conversation or even expressions of outrage.

Bella was strong for a woman. She was young and fit. But her 110 pounds was simply no match for Henry's 240 pounds of lean muscle. He manhandled her easily. Her bra came off next - he had been curious about her breasts since he saw them seductively dance and bounce underneath her top. Her skin had an even color all over - either she spent a great deal of time naked or she was blessed with a natural skin tone that didn't need sun to look so smoothly tanned.

He quickly peeled her jeans off her ass and legs and tossed them aside. The thin, feminine wisp of fabric in the form of her panties that protected her pussy from his gaze came off in a swipe of his big paw and she lay on the rug naked, breathing hard, knees together and bent slightly, turned so that Henry couldn't see between her legs; her hands bound at the wrists, elbows bent, one fist clutching the other in front of her breasts.

Henry stood over her and pulled his shirt over his head. He unbuckled and dropped his freshly laundered pants to the ground and stepped out of them. His cock was already hard from his exertions and from seeing her naked flesh and flawless skin.

When her voice finally returned, it was in the form of a weak, crying, disbelieving whimper. He dropped to his knees before her and roughly spread her legs, exposing her nearly bare pussy to his eyes. He roughly fingered her to spread some wetness, not caring too much for her pending discomfort. He unceremoniously plunged into her and fucked her steadily and roughly until he found himself building to an orgasm. His first thrusts were dry and he felt resistance. But very soon, he was sliding in and out, bathed in her sweet lubricating wetness. She just lay there, her face a beautiful, teary mess while he held her arms up over her head and methodically plunged into her defeated body. He came powerfully, adding his wetness to hers until he was satisfied.

He left her there on the floor and got dressed and set about waiting for the men who were coming from Anchorage; the men she helped steer his direction; the men Gary Donovan tasked to bring him back for vengeance and punishment. Her part was to keep Henry in town, unsuspecting of the danger heading his way. He wondered what was in it for her and if she even knew what her actions potentially meant for him. Did it matter?
« Last Edit: September 04, 2019, 10:43:26 AM by Red Right Hand »

Offline LD2020

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Re: Yukon Gold
« Reply #1 on: August 01, 2019, 12:24:44 AM »
You set a nice stage. Really appreciate the details of the setting.

Offline Alec Durbervilles

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Re: Yukon Gold
« Reply #2 on: August 01, 2019, 02:24:25 PM »
Thank you @LD2020. Not all of my stories are like this but the story that this is a sequel to is very much about plot and setting and characters. Accordingly, 3000 words gets eaten up quickly. I actually had to skimp on the rape scene and you can probably tell there is more story to follow.

 

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