Author's Note: Long winter nights for fun and profit.


Prolog

I'm not sure who I am writing this for, but up here, the nights are long and the entertainment is strictly whatever a person can come up with. Like most Sourdoughs, reading is popular to fill up the hours so I am not completely uneducated, although I have to say that my attention span in school was not the best in the class. Of course, the preferred entertainment to fill up leisure hours is to lay on top of the opposite sex, doing - well, whatever comes natural. Or, sometimes, in my case, unnatural. Of course, even for a young person - ok, I'm not quite yet in my 30's - that can't be the only entertainment. Eventually, the stream runs dry for the day.

I grew up here. Alaska, I mean. Unlike that Robinson Crusoe guy that I read about in high school, I do not crave companionship. Male companionship, that is. Being alone for months at a time is natural for me. However, if I were marooned on that island, I would like to have a couple of wahinies to keep me company. Female companionship is a necessity for me. Fortunately, that problem is well solved for now.

The day's run of color was about average for the month. It had gradually gotten better over the last couple of years, tempting me with that vision of the holy grail of all prospectors - the hope of breaking into the mother lode. Of course, if I did, I'm not sure what I would do with it. Right now, I wasn't rich, but just the normal run gave me all the income I needed and more. Other than several loads of summer supplies, I had nothing on which to spend the money that the gold brought.

Several years ago, sometime in 1973

It was the weekend and I was engaged my favorite sport. That is, I was inserted as deeply as my dong would go into my current girlfriend. Actually, girlfriend was a misnomer. I had no problem getting dates as long as I was flush from a payday and, as usual, the only reason that my tool was filling up her hole was because of the wad of cash in my jeans pocket. In other words, she didn't put out until I did. I had a menial, but lucrative job as a guide for an oil company. The Alaska oil boom had just started and advance companies for energy firms were filling up the hotels all over town. Heck, there was even a rumor of a massive pipeline planned to go way up into the sub-Arctic wilderness. I had to see that to believe it. I had a feeling that some Texas oil companies were going to be in for a surprise when they moved up here. I've seen a high quality drop forged wrench fall off a bench and break like a china dish hitting the kitchen floor. The cold up here in winter does strange and bad stuff to both men and equipment.

Speaking of equipment, Susi had some really good stuff. Just her set of knockers could produce a hard on a snowman. Her other end was pretty good, also, and fit really well around my rod. She wasn't a steady girlfriend, but any time I was holding, she was willing. And she was honest about it - after a good meal and night on the town, she never welched on holding up her end - no pun intended. And if she wasn't available, there were certain houses in town that would fill in.

Much later that night, I headed back to my little apartment, my craving for pussy now satisfied and replaced with a desire for some food - it had been hours since our steak dinner and I had worked it off with a couple of sessions of sweaty exercise. Fortunately, I had some fixin's in my little kitchen - that was good, since everything was closed for the night except the bars and the joy houses. I had no desire to enter any of those on a Saturday night. By this time, the drunken roustabouts and toolies would just be getting down to business - that is, busting each other's heads for any slightest reason. I was no sunflower - six foot two, two hundred pounds and I could survive in the wilderness as well as any and better than most. And, in my young life so far, I had been in my share of knock down drag outs. It was just that I considered head bashing to be a stupid occupation if it could be avoided.

As soon as I opened my door, I wished that I had joined them.

Sitting in front of my little TV, was a man. An old man - heck, as far as I knew, he was about ninety years older than God.

"Hello, Uncle."

"Shut the damned door." Yep, it was him, alright. "Where the hell you been? I've been sitting here since noon."

I hadn't seen him for a couple of years, at least. My mother's much older brother. He had a cabin and a little claim way up north. Way, way up north. Hell, even Santa Claus lived south of him.

He was even more qualified to be a hermit than I was. What the hell was he doing here? "What's up, Unk?"

"Call me Unk again, and you'll never find out. Sit down. We need to talk."

I didn't have to take any guff in my own quarters, but I decided that I would, just this once. I once saw him straight-arm a roustabout punk by the neck - feet off the ground completely - until the unfortunate began to turn blue. That was the day that I began to realize that the young don't necessarily rule. I pulled up a chair. "Sorry, Uncle. Just joking. Wot's on your mind?"

"I'm dying, Junior." I opened my eyes wide. Before I could form a question, he continued. "Spare me any platitudes. I've been around a long time, and the run has been good. But the Doc gives me a few months more. How about some coffee?"

Still trying to process his news, I jumped up and immediately began to crank out some brew. Up here, hot coffee is just short of warm clothing as a necessity. While I scooped out the mix, he continued, "I want to show you something. Stuff you need to know when I'm gone. Tomorrow we drive up to my claim."

Uh-oh. That was a problem. It wasn't like his place was just up the block. It was about two hundred miles north and the passage wasn't exactly like driving down an Interstate. "Uncle. I have a job. I can't just..."

"Tell them you'll be gone a week or so. If you're any good to them, they'll wait."

I poured the water in, then sat back down. "That isn't the problem. If I don't work, I don't get paid. And I have a truck payment and rent is next week."

He wasn't impressed. Reaching into his travel bag, he pulled out a wad of paper and threw it on the table. I looked with wide eyes. It was a bundle of 20's that would choke a polar bear. "This'll tide you over."

The next morning - 04:00

His duce and a half was idling in front of my door - a genuine U.S. Army ten wheeler. The bed was stacked with everything from boxes to barrels. Where he lived, you either brought it with you or did without. The closest store was barely within flying distance - not that one could land anywhere close to his cabin in the mountains.

"Let's go, Junior." I opened the passenger side door and climbed up as he jammed it in gear and off we rolled. For the first fifty miles or so there was a semblance of a road and we could make pretty good time, but eventually we left both the working and abandoned claims behind and the road became a trail. He pulled to a stop. "Your turn, Junior. You need to drive it so you can find it again." Why the hell would I be needing to find his claim again?

Further on, it became just two ruts made over the decades by his trucks. The many watercourses we came to, he had long since surveyed to have rocky bottoms and they could be forded at a slow speed and all wheel drive. During the spring melt, there wasn't a chance in hell of crossing, so any forays into town had to be planned around the spring season. Of course, in winter even this truck would have had a better chance in crossing the Bering Straights than this road with twenty foot snow drifts. I could have figured out most of the above, but he explained it anyway.

Somewhere along the trip, about halfway, he waved me to a stop, opened the door and stepped down. He pulled a flat shovel from a holder on the side of the truck bed. I assumed that this stop was a break for nature's call. It was, but...

We were stopped before a long rocky ridgeback. Not quite a cliff, but not something that I would want to climb. He pointed to a very large and prominent bolder sticking up on the top of the ridge. "That's called "Arrluk."

"By who?" I asked. I doubted that any other living person had passed this way since the original gold rush.

"Shut up and listen," he barked. "It means 'whale' in Eskimo. Notice the 'flipper' on this side." Ok, I saw that - a lump sticking out that might remind a person of that fish fin. "Now walk that way until it is pointing at you." I moved then stopped, looking up at the rock. "Look down." He jabbed the shovel at the ground. Instead of digging in, it made a metallic 'clunk.' Metal?. "Clean that off."

Shortly, I had uncovered a flat piece of metal, about four by four feet and with a handle at each end. He nodded at me. I lifted, the metal cover came off and exposed a container buried in the ground. Inside were six plastic red cans and a couple of large plastic containers. It was obvious that the cans probably had gasoline - interesting, since our truck used diesel. I looked at my Uncle for an explanation.

First came orders. "Two are empty. Take them out and replace them with full ones from the truck." I did that, then put the cover back over the buried box and he threw a few shovels of gravel over it.

Shortly, we were on the road again. In a mile or so, he pointed to a cliff face. "Look at the base of the rock, there." There was a small indention at the bottom. "That's a shallow cave that can shelter you if needed. This is about the halfway point in the trip. Remember where it is. The supply container back there has a gasoline stove, some blankets, a snow melter for drinking water, and some hard rations. You're not a sunflower, so I don't have to tell you what happens if someone gets caught in a blizzard this far north. Or to make sure that a bear isn't checked in for the winter."

"Why so much gasoline?" I asked.

"Up at my place, I have a snowmobile - not the usual sport version. This one is for far-north prospectors. You'll see it. It has a bubble canopy and an extra large fuel tank, but still, it can only make it about two thirds of the trip on a tank. So, this is the center fueling point. If you use it during the winter, you restock it on your next summer run with the truck." He pointed at a leaning tree. I swerved. "It's for emergencies only. If you need to get south during the winter, it's the only way."

Hours later

For a man who was "dying", he was in better shape than I was after the trip. Finally, hours and hours later, we drove up to the base of a mountain, then up a well maintained gravel trail to a shelf, probably a thousand feet above the valley floor. In the semi dark - this time of year, night never really fell - I could see for a hundred miles across the low rolling hills - sparsely tree covered and still plenty of snow blanketing much of the scene.

Behind me, against the mountain was his house, nestled right up against the vertical cliff face. Anyone who didn't know - including me at the moment - would think it to be just a well built but plain cabin for some reclusive sourdough. "Let's get some rest. We'll unload tomorrow."

Inside, the actual cabin was just a big one room structure, finished with a cookstove and a bed. And some shelves with canned food and junk. And a whole wall filled with large sacks. I could see labels of rice, flour, beans and so forth. Jeez, did he actually spend the winter months cooped up in this place? Even as much a hermit as I was, I would have gone bonkers inside of a month and put a bullet in my head. But, he was uninterested in my impressions and immediately walked to the rear wall and pulled on a set of shelves. Out it pivoted and exposed a door. A door? I had only had time for a casual inspection of the cabin, but I knew that behind that wall was a mountain.

Wrong. It was a dark tunnel. He motioned me to enter, shut the door behind us and started walking. Far in the distance, I could see the indirect glow of light. The temperature of the air got warmer as we walked. About sixty or seventy feet or so along the tunnel appeared to widen out, somewhat. Suddenly...

Paradise in the wilderness.

Holy shit! It was a huge cavern, with a twenty foot ceiling and a flat floor. Not natural - I could see the leftover remnants of powder holes that were used to blast out the rock. The lights were florescent, and hung from the overhead, although only a pair of fixtures were actually turned on at the moment. The floor was covered in spots with huge rugs, a full kitchen was against one wall and a kingsized bed was surrounded by the usual bedroom stuff, minus the walls. One long wall was almost fully faced with bookshelves, and loaded with books. Interesting - I had not been around my Uncle much in my life, but I never got the impression that he was a well read individual. Boy, was I wrong.

"You can close your mouth now, Junior. You''ll have plenty of time to explore." He pointed to another apparent tunnel leading from the cavern - one of several. "That's the bathroom. Take a shower while I order us some grub. Plenty of water - use all you want."

In a daze, I entered the 'bathroom' and found out that it really was. Not exactly like one that you would see in one of those women's magazines, but functional, all the same. Just a cube blasted out of the rock, and with no door, it was large, had a commode and a sink with a mirror and a shower head in a corner. No shower stall, just a pair of handles and a water jet. The floor slanted slightly away from the door, so any water or splashes just pooled in the corner and went down the drain. How the fuck did he put a drain in a rock floor?

Suddenly, it occurred to what he had just said. 'Order' us some grub? I knew very little about the topology of this area, but I would have wagered big money that there wasn't some plastic fronted fast food joint around here.

No matter. As he said, the water was as hot as I wanted and plenty of it. The question of where the hell hot water and electricity came from in the Arctic Circle would have to wait. It was wonderful. I kept turning up the hot until the steam began to fill the cube. My skin was turning pink as I began to rinse off. This was far better than my apartment. Depending on the time of day, you might get water anywhere from somewhat hot, to lukewarm, to ball freezingly cool. In a year, I...

I froze - my musings about water and temperature chopped off clean. Now I just stared. And stared.

"Georgie was right. You Are a big kid. And the rest of your body isn't bad, either."

I just stood there like the village idiot, gaping at the apparition that had appeared behind me while I was blathering to myself about hot water.

"And it works, too!"

What? I suddenly realized that my johnson was rising like a polar bear coming out of the water after a seal. I scrambled to turn off the water flow, then attempted to hide myself behind my hands - a classic female gesture when surprised while undressed. It didn't really work - I am fairly well gifted in the male parts. Anyway, I couldn't blame it as I stared at a female, standing there staring at me. But what a female. For one thing, she was a naked as I was - even more so. She wasn't a pageant beauty, being kind of plump, but pretty for all that, and her pair of hangers would fill up big hands. But, that wasn't the target of my vision. I couldn't help staring at something I had never seen before. She was nude all the way down. I mean, she had no hair at all other than her head. Up to now, in my life, I had never seen a fully shaved woman, and this one's little girl crack was in plain sight for any to see. It was ungodly erotic. It's a wonder that I didn't just shoot off all over her, just standing there lusting.

Suddenly, I managed to come to my senses, somewhat, grabbed a towel off a shelf and wrapped it around me. "Who the he... who are you?" My Uncle never mentioned a wife, although this woman was far, far younger than he. Not much older, it appeared, than me.

She was smiling and chuckling all at once. "Awww. He's shy." She finally raised her eyes from my crotch. "Really? He didn't tell you about his squeeze?" I shook my head. "Well, that's me. I cook and clean and keep him company. If I'm bad, he might string me up by my wrists and whip the shit out of me."

Ok. It was winter, not summer, and I had gotten lost on a fishing trip. I was obviously now laying out in the open, freezing to death. These were my final hallucinations as I kicked off. As I prepared to depart this world, my angel turned around and I watched her rear crack disappear into the main cavern.

I finally unfroze, toweled off, and pulled my clothes on. In my state of mind, my polo shirt went on inside out - a fact that I didn't discover until bedtime. Uncle was waiting for his turn, so I just sat down at the table and watched his 'squeeze' go about her business. While monitoring whatever was cooking, she also was arranging something on the floor, bent over away from me, her jugs dangling and wobbling under her. My nuts were aching. I wondered if I could relieve myself in the bathroom after we bedded down for the night.

Shortly, he came out wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. "Ok, Junior. Let's eat." In a daze, I walked over and sat down in front of some delicious soup. Suddenly realizing that I was famished, I gulped it down. Uncle had much less, and finished about the same time. The girl didn't eat with us.

He stood up. "I'm a little tired from the trip. We'll talk in the morning." He pointed to the area where I had been watching the naked girl. "That mat is your bed. See you in the morning." With that, he walked over to the wall, flipped a switch and the cavern became pitch dark. Well, for a few seconds, anyway. A slight glow from the bathroom, obviously from a night light, let a person get their bearings in the dark. My mat was just around the corner from the bathroom. His bed was way across the floor, opposite the kitchen and fairly close to the wall with the book shelves.

My night vision beginning to develop, I walked over to the bathroom, noticed with a wry smile that my shirt was on inside out, then shucked off all but my briefs. Outside the opening, the mat had a pillow, a sheet and a thin blanket - the last probably not needed since the mat was laying on a surprisingly warm floor.

With a last, Jeezus H. Kerist, I lay back and settled in. I was beat - my tired was tired, but I wondered if I could slow down my thoughts long enough to fall asleep. Even now, I was having problems believing everything that had happened since that old man had showed up at my digs. In a million years, I would never hav...

A sudden movement beside me stopped my musing. Before, I could even start another thought, the woman had squatted, then stretched herself beside me on the mat. Shit! "Hey! Hey!" I said in an emphatic whisper, sitting up and moving over a foot or so. "I have no interest in getting shot by my Uncle. Or worse. You need to..."

She put a hand up to my mouth. Pushing her fingers against my lips, she said, quietly, "Hush up, silly. This was his idea."

I looked around toward my Uncle's bed - uselessly, since he was far across the room in the pitch dark. Then back at her, dimly outlined in the glow from the bathroom. "Really?"

I sensed that she nodded as she replied, "Yes, of course. He's a wonderful man, but his pencil hasn't had lead in it for at least five years. You know what that means?"

I had no idea how to answer that question, so I just laid back down, still not believing - again! - what was happening. I was about to say something, when her hand went into my shorts and gently grabbed my stiff - now hard enough to put granite to shame.

"It means that I haven't had one of these in me in that long." Oh, god! About one more squeeze and my shorts were going to be a mess. "When is the last time you had a woman - or your hand," she asked.

What? "Uuhhh... Saturday."

She gave it a hard squeeze. Shitoshitoshit! "That doesn't mean anything to me, silly. How many days ago?"

"Uh... couple of days."

"Ok. That's a problem." Huh? She pulled my shorts down to my knees, then off completely, and moved down toward the foot of the bed... mat. I didn't know what she was... Suddenly, I felt her take the head of my dick into her mouth and my eyes probably rolled back in my head. Then she gently grabbed my ball sack and began to pull and massage. That did it! I blew - big time.

I lay there, muscles jerking and spasming, in the last stages of bliss, then eventually realized that she was still sucking and now pumping with a fist. Apparently, she had swallowed the entire load. Shortly, she stopped and lay back down beside me. Well, actually, kind of half on and half off me. One boob was on the mat and the other was laying in the middle of my chest.

"Good," she said quietly. "After you recharge for a little while, we can do it for real."

The next morning

"Ah, Junior. I see you've met my live-in cunt." Snap! I opened my eyes to Uncle standing beside my mat, looking down. Beside me was a woman, still sound asleep, one arm over my chest. Holy Shit! Last night wasn't a dream. Both of us were on top of the linen, and naked as jaybirds - not that I had ever seen such a fowl. I quickly moved her arm, located my shorts and pulled them on. He didn't even bother to watch, but turned around and headed for the kitchen. I eventually joined him.

"Ok, Uncle. I've been good little boy, haven't I? Done everything you wanted since you showed up in my joint." I sat down in a chair to put my socks on, although they weren't really needed. The rock floor - even where the rugs didn't cover - was warm. "Now it's your turn. Spill!"

He sat down too. He had been making coffee.

"Fair enough, Junior. He pushed a sheaf of paper toward me. I was surprised to see that it was his will. And stunned to see that he had left everything he owned to me. What the hell?

"First off, Junior," he began, "You and I are alike. I discount the fact of your constant chasing of skirts and cunt. Hell, I did the same thing at your age. Just don't let it take you over. Remember, pussy is easily found, highly replaceable, and nothing to get serious over once you unload into it."

Hmmm. How the hell did he know how many girls I was laying?

He continued. "We both like being in solitary - your Mom and Dad definitely do not. If I left this place to them it would be on the selling block in ten minutes. In fact, the only reason they both don't head down to the lower forty-eight is financial - they can't make as much money down there. Otherwise, they would have been gone years ago. Pay attention!"

He poured both of us a cup of coffee. His method of brewing was different than mine. If the spoon sank, he considered it to be too weak.

"Taken care of, and worked properly, this claim can give you both privacy and financial security. You might get married some day. I think you're a fool if you do, but young gonads always have their way. Just make sure that if you get married that the bitch doesn't get hold of this place. Do you know what a prenupt is?" I nodded. "Make sure you have a good shyster make an ironclad one. It's tough to do when your cohones are doing the thinking, but you have to do it right."

"By the way," he continued. "Millie has had that female operation to make her infertile, but any girl that you bring up here probably won't. Unless you're hankering for a bunch of screaming kids right off the bat, or to have a pregnant female coming to term in the dead of winter and you playing doctor, I suggest that you drop in on Doc and get your nuts cut."

We talked a while as he ran over more legal stuff. I tried to ask what was wrong with him but he told me in no uncertain terms that it was none of my business. "My preference would be to stay her until the last, then just go out the front door and walk in a straight line till the end came." He shook his head. "The problem with that plan is that I would have disappeared and it would be years before you inherited the place. That, and the fact that Millie would starve to death." So that was her name. With my dick in control half the night, I hadn't even asked. He stood up. "Come with me."

Through another tunnel leading out of the living area and shortly we were in a warehouse area. Nowhere near as big as the space we had just left, but not just a hole in the wall for all that. Wall attached and free standing shelves filled the entire area. And the shelves were filled with... with... well, you name it. Pipe, plates, paper, pencils, pottery and paperclips - it was a mini store. That made sense for a homestead where the local store was two hundred miles away, and infinitely far in winter. Again, the switch only turned on one hanging light, although there were many other switches on the wall and lights on the overhead. Where WAS the power coming from?

He motioned me to a shelf next far down at the end. He moved a piece of equipment and exposed the back of the shelf. Wow! On it was a stack of cash and a metal can about the size of a soft drink container. He pointed to it. "Pick it up." I reached for it and lifted. Or tried to. It stayed in place like it was nailed down. Then with both hands, I picked it up. Son of a bitch! It must have weighed twenty pounds or so. Instinctively I knew what had to be in it. I looked at him and he nodded. Setting it back down, I unscrewed the wide lid. Gold dust! Or rather, gold granules, like river run placer gold. Knowing the current price of gold, I did a fast calculation.

"Unk! There must be twenty or thirty thousand dollars worth, here." Remember - this was the middle 1970's, when the dollar was actually worth something. I asked. "Why haven't you sold it?" Stupid question that I would have known the answer to if I hadn't been in a state of semi shock.

He snorted. "Why trade it for some fifty cent dollars?" He waved at the stash. "This is money in the bank, safe from inflation, taxation, confiscation." He pointed to the cash. "I sell it as I need it, and the price is always higher every time."

He continued, while motioning me back toward the living area, and switching out the light. "You aren't a stupid kid, or you wouldn't be here, so you will figure this out eventually, but I will say it anyway. To the rest of the world, I - and now you will - have a producing gold claim - that can't really be hidden. But as far as anybody is concerned - including any live in cunts - it is just a subsistence mine. Enough to let one person get along, but nothing worth anyone bothering with - either legally or illegally. Later, I'll go though the process I use to turn gold into cash without anyone noticing."

He drew it finger over his throat. "Just remember, if anyone gets the slightest hint of that stash in there, you couldn't buy or shoot enough bullets to keep you alive overnight, despite the fact that we're two hundred miles from nowhere."

At the back of the cavern was another tunnel - and when I say tunnel, I am not describing a narrow, hunch over to move, crawl space. No, his tunnels were unbraced, in hard rock and about eight by eight feet. Of course, he had been working on them for a long life time and his father before him. And even before him. There was a fairly heavy metal door separating his living area from this shaft. Later, I would learn that it was to keep all the dust and dirt from the blasting from entering his living area.

He picked up a pair of flashlights and handed one to me. As we walked down the dark and curving passageway, he talked. "This follows the original vein that my grandfather discovered way back when." Grandfather! This place is three generations old? "It always got a little richer as it got longer. Who knows, maybe you'll hit the lode at the end some day."

This floor wasn't flat or straight. It went up and down in gentle slopes and curves, following the previous color trail. At least six hundred feet along, we came to the face of the shaft. Here were work lights - not on at the moment - his single jack drilling rig and miscellaneous tools. There were many two inch holes drilled in the rock. For explosives, I assumed correctly. He held his light up to the face of the rock. "Look here. Look close." I peered at the area that his light was illuminating and saw nothing but rock. There was nothing to be...

Wait a moment. As my eyes finally noticed what I was supposed to be seeing, the reason for all this jumped out at me. In the rock were a few, very thin threads of a golden material. It WAS gold. Suddenly, I felt the thrill that all prospectors feel at the sight of color. Color that many spent their entire lives to find - and many who gave their lives in the finding.

Months later

I had just taken leave of my parents - up from Anchorage for the funeral. I had been surprised to see my mother shed real tears for her brother. All my life she had always referred to him as "that old bastard." The more I thought about what he said, the more I realized he was right - neither were real Sourdoughs. Even though they had been born here, they were not much different than the transplants.

During the summer, Doc checked me into a clinic for that operation that Uncle had suggested. I wasn't really looking forward to someone taking a knife to my ball sac, but the idea of a woman giving birth in a place that was two hundred miles and could be eight months away from a doctor, gave me the willies. He said that there was a moderate chance it could be reversed, but don't call it a sure thing. I had a set of gigantic and massively sore nuts for a couple of weeks.

At any rate, summer was fast progressing and I needed to get the legal stuff done so I could get out of here. I needed to spend the winter learning the gold mining business and how his secret home worked. Before we left, he handed me a written journal that he indicated had notes about everything and every process in the place. My main concern was getting back with supplies for the winter. Millie had been up there alone for almost three months. Of course, she had spent almost ten years in the place and pretty well new how it ran. However, if a generator or the battery crapped out, I doubted that she could fix it.

During the week I had spent up there, I looked over the place pretty well, getting somewhat familiar with it and how it worked. One thing I noticed, was his bed and some curious attachments - and some odd attachments on the walls and floor. As to the bed, for one thing, it had ringbolts at the corners. When I asked, he laughed and said. "That's for Millie. If you keep her, you are going to find out all about B&D."

"What?" I asked.

He looked at me. "She's a dyed-in-the wool masochist. She came that way - I didn't make her into one." He paused, then continued. "I wasn't into it either, but as it turns out, it's quite a hard-on stimulating hobby."

I shook my head. I had never heard of the terms. Either of them.

He looked at me in disbelief. "God almighty, Junior. Did you go to school in a nunnery?" I just looked at him trying to get some kind of handle on what I thought was a conversation about sex. "She likes to be punished. Whipped. Tied up."

Finally, I began to see the light. "So the rings on the bed...?"

He laughed again. "She loves to be tied down for sex. Heck, sometimes I used to hogtie her after lunch. By evening, she would be hotter than a dynamite fuse."

That brought up another question. "Speaking of live-in girlfriends. How does that jibe with your idea of total secrecy about the gold?"

He poured himself another cup of coffee, then sat down. "Lissen and learn, junior. Millie is just the last one. I've had several. The first thing I did was tell them I had a gold mine. I had to. If a woman is spending a winter with you, there's no possible chance of her not noticing that you work in a mine shaft. So I tell her. In fact, I ask if she wants to help." I waited, still not understanding. "So... She is excited to actually find gold. Visions of mink coats and diamond rings play in her head. She mucks loads of rock into the cart, takes it into the crusher room and I stamp it to powder. In the placer trough it goes and she starts washing for color. And she finds some - always. But, only as much as I let her, since I am very careful which rock she loads. Sometimes I even just give her plain rock and salt it. Follow me so far?"

I nodded, still not quite seeing through the haze, but getting there.

"At the end of the day, her ass is dragging the ground and I tally up her pouch. She's made all of fourteen dollars and thirty nine cents. After a couple of days of that, she happily stays in the cavern and leaves the mining to me. When our relationship terminates, any tales she tells of my gold mine will be about a guy with a dirty, hard job that produces a trivial amount of gold and the guy is nuts to even fool with it. Needless to say, you don't let her see your stash of cash or cans of dust - not even Millie."

Days later

Finally! The legal stuff got done and the place was now mine. My truck was loaded with supplies - drums of diesel, crates of food, bags of staples. Plus, what few personal possessions I owned, including my record player and a fairly large stack of platters. I needed to get gone. The weather report wasn't looking good and I didn't know the trail anywhere near good enough yet to find my way in a snowstorm. I spent the last night at Madam Larues, mostly between the legs of a young black haired beauty. By morning I was well drained so I got in the six-by and started toward my new life.

I had no troubles at all - not even a downed tree to be chainsawed off the trail. But, by the time I arrived the snow flurries were already coming down thick. Millie heard the door opening and ran to me, crying and hugging and laughing through her tears. I didn't know if it was for the death of my Uncle, or my coming back, or maybe just seeing another person after three months. I was still getting used to the fact that I now had a woman of my own. Not a wife, but a female that I could do anything to that I wanted, anytime and however I wanted.

What I wanted right then was to take a hot shower and collapse for about ten hours, but one look at the approaching storm miles away to the west, I knew that my day wasn't over yet.

I backed up to the front door, and began to unload. It took hours to get the diesel drums out of the back, since I only had a hand powered drum hauler. The supplies I just threw into the entrance tunnel to be put away tomorrow. Finally, I backed the truck into its shed and removed the battery. Tomorrow, I would empty the electrolyte into a holding container and wash out the core. In the spring, I would reverse the process and have a still-good cell. Batteries don't do well in our winters, and the chance of one surviving in an unheated shed were just about zero.

By this time, I was staggering and stumbling with exhaustion. Millie, stripped me down, gave me unnecessary help in the shower, then joined me in the bed. No sex tonight - I zonked out the second my head hit the pillow.

Time passes

That winter was both educational and fun - and not just from sex. The complex was a marvel of study in how to live well completely outside of civilization. Most of the infrastructure - all of these words weren't in my high school vocabulary, but were learned from his voluminous library over the years. I had always thought that he was some uneducated Sourdough. It was a shock to find that he had attended engineering school after the military. Anyway, the infrastructure was fairly new so I assumed that it came from him, not his father or grandfather.

Millie was a piece of work. I never did completely understand exactly how she came to be in my Uncle's 'possession.' But, apparently she was one of those women that was born with a innate desire to be dominated. The story went that she would go from boyfriend to boyfriend, always trying to find one that would satisfy her longing for submission. Years later, after asking her how it happened, she just mentioned that he had rescued her from a bad guy. Once, on a trip to the big city, I sorted through newspaper archives from the time and place that she mentioned and found a back page article about a woman who was almost beaten to death by a man unknown. A day later, another article told about a man who had been found almost pounded into the pavement, bones in every limb broken, along with his jaw. The assumption that it was an ordinary brawl after a drinking bout.

Anyhow, however it happened, she latched onto my Uncle like rosin from a broken pine tree. And, now, since I was my Uncle's recommended replacement, she renewed her lease. I wasn't unhappy. She was a wonderful distraction in bed after a long day of hauling rock. She could cook, kept the place clean, and - all in all - fulfilled the function of a wife, although without all the bullshit.

My Uncle was correct in telling me, both that she loved to be restrained, and that the erotism of that kind of play would grow on me. That winter, I hog-tied her, tied her up in a big X against the wall, ropes from her wrists and ankles tied to bolts in the rock wall, fastened her on the bed spread eagled, or with her legs pulled above her head, or bent over with her arms pulled up behind her... You name it. B&D, I came to realize, meant Bondage and Discipline. I quickly became a major disciple of the sport.

I just thought it was fun, but it was an integral part of her makeup. (More big dictionary words that I didn't know at the time, but am using now, years later.) Before Uncle passed on, he told me about her quirks. "Junior. Every now and then, maybe once a month - hell, it could be connected to her monthly period, for all I know about it. Anyway, she will turn into a cast iron bitch. Nothing is right, she will pout, curse at you, refuse to cook or put out. The first few times it happened, I thought she was getting tired of me and wanted to leave. I almost put her out. If it hadn't been late fall, I might have."

"It isn't an act. She really becomes bitchy. But what she is wanting is for you to punish her. And fairly severely." At my look of disbelief, he nodded and continued. "I guarantee it. When it happens, tie her down or string her up and lash her till she has red zebra stripes." Now I was looking at him like he was a two headed snow elf. He nodded again. "Believe me. It's true. Only, when you are done, you had better be ready to put out, because she is going to be serviced or you are going to be raped."

All the above turned out to be true. But there was a lot to do and learn besides new sexual practices.

The amount of gold I produced probably wouldn't have come to a third of the value of the items I loaded the truck with. But, that was all right. I was learning the trade and enjoying it. My first session of rock breaking was a study in slow careful movement and exhilarating puckering. I definitely wasn't a powder monkey - not yet, anyway. But using his notes, made especially for me, I got it wired up and pushed the button.

Unlike the movies, the climax was somewhat disappointing. A proper charge spends its energy breaking whatever it is supposed to break, not producing a Hollywood sized bang. By the next day the little fan had exhausted the fumes and dust and I could see a considerable pile of broken rock on the floor.

I had all winter to examine my new home. The infinite supply of hot water came out of a pipe at the end of a much smaller shaft - really just a crawl hole. Someone long in the past had drilled sideways into some water bearing strata, then had cemented the pipe in the hole. According to Unk - he wasn't here now, and couldn't complain about the use of the word - this mountain was geologically active and over a magma hotspot. I had to look up those terms, but translated them to mean that this was a volcanic area, but they hadn't produced any surface activity. Yet.

Anyway, the water came out at considerable pressure and was plumbed to the bathroom, kitchen, and gold panning areas. The waste water went out another pipe and cascaded down the side of the mountain - something that I doubt would pass inspection in more civilized areas, but the state code inspector had never managed to get up this far.

The entire complex was warm. Too warm and again this had to do with the underlying... lava? magma? ...whatever. Call it hot rock. To cool the place down, two three foot shafts went straight up out of the cavern almost two hundred feet before it broke into the open. Cold air from outside would cascade down the shaft then through a series of ducts, just as if it were a building with air conditioning. Except that this AC didn't cost anything to run, or to power, except for the few minutes needed for a large fan to get the circulation going. The heated air would rise though the other duct.

Ah... Power. That was one of the first things I asked about on my first trip. In a nutshell, the place was battery powered. But, what a battery. In a small cavern at the edge of the mountain, a huge plastic tank sat on a concrete pad. It was two feet wide, two feet deep and almost twelve feet long. He called it a 'replaceable electrode' battery. The plastic top was hinged and when opened, would show a series of lead plates hanging sideways and vertical for the entire length of the box and covered with acid. Properly treated, he said, it would run for about five years before it degraded to a fifty percent capacity. When it needed to be renewed, the electrolyte would be drained, the plates removed and replaced and new acid poured in. Along one wall were stacks of spare plates and carboys of acid. Enough for decades.

On the other side of the cavern, three small and efficient diesels were mounted. One active and two spares. Did I mention that in the winter, you couldn't just run down to the auto parts store because the lights were off and you badly needed a fuel filter? When the battery discharged, the diesel genset would charge it back up. Of course, the exhaust was directly vented outside, although the intake just just used air from the complex. This constant inflow of fresh air kept diesel and lube oil fumes from backing up into the living space.

In just living mode, that is, no mining going on, the battery would last for weeks or months, since all it had to run was lights and a few miscellaneous items like a music system or a fan or microwave. The lights were all florescent - low wattage compared to incandescent - and all could be individually controlled. That way, only the lights over your current location were running at any given time.

If mining was going on, the power requirements were much higher due to the equipment needed. An air compressor for the drill, water pump and sump pump for the water spray. Then, later a small hydraulic pump to work the crusher. And so forth. During those times, the diesel bypassed the battery, and powered the equipment directly. Even so, the fuel requirements were only a few barrels a month, even if intensive, all day, every day mining was going on. And he/I had three dozen barrels in stock and he advised to always bring a couple of extra barrels on each trip. More money in the bank, he called it. Over and over, he would reiterate, money always goes down in value - items always go up, be they drums of fuel, battery plates, sugar or matches.

Time passes

Sure enough, just like Uncle had said, a time came when Millie began to whine and pester - then became downright obnoxious. I guess she was testing me for a first time to see if I had the stones that my Uncle had had. She would find out. I let her stew just to get an idea of what this was all about. Then, finally...

"You want to eat? Fix it yourself!"

I just sat there with my coffee. I idea of what I could do was still a powerful rod stiffener. Going over my Uncle's options in my mind gave me enough time to finish my drink. Then, as she paraded by again, obviously on purpose, I stood up, quickly stepped over to her and grabbed the bulk of her hair in a hand. That got an exclamation out of her, but nothing like the protests as I began to tow her over to the long blank rock wall. Squealing as we went, her hands were trying to remove mine from her hair, or failing that, trying to relieve some of the pain by pulling back on my hand. It didn't work. I had eight inches in height and at least eighty pounds on her. And most importantly, a Y chromosome that she didn't have.

On the wall, drilled into the rock were several strategically placed eye bolts - four to be exact - put there by my Uncle in one of his playful moods, I assumed. From each of the bolts, hung or lay a short chain with manacles attached. And - surprise! - the spread and lengths just happened to fit the person that was bent over beside me with my hand in her hair. I let go, took an arm and raised it up to one of the binders. I snapped it around her wrist, then moved over and did the other one. Then, stooping down, I pulled a leg sideways. Shortly, both ankles were decorated with manacles and she was secured - facing the wall, arms widely spread and over her head and legs spread to full width.

Now she had changed her tune. "Johnny, Honey. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get bitchy. I'll be good... OOOOHH!" That last was for my finger entering her spread behind. A girl in this position had nothing that wasn't accessible. Just to check on that theory, my other hand moved around in front and a finger went up her front hole. By now, I just wanted to sidle up behind her and run it up her rear chute, but I restrained myself. First a lesson.

Leaving her apologizing and pleading, I stauntered over to her hope chest. I had no idea at the time of why she called it that. It was just a large wooden cedar chest that kept all the B&D items that my Uncle had either bought or made. Many years later, I finally learned that it was a play on words of an actual chest that unmarried women - mostly years past - would put items in that they collected for their future marriage - hopefully.

In it was a collection of whips - among many other things. I selected a long flexible lash. This one had a flat leather strap, at least six feet long, tapering into a leather wrapped handle. Unk had told me that it made more noise than damage - in fact, the blade of the whip was to wide that it couldn't damage skin, no matter how vigorously it was swung. I pulled it out, then lashed out at the bed mattress a few times. It definitely made a satisfying 'thwack.' I was anxious to see how well it 'thwacked' on female skin.

Across the cavern, I could see my waiting victim looking over her shoulder trying to determine just what she was facing, but as I began to walk toward her, I kept the item coiled behind my back. Halfway there, I decided not to rush. It wouldn't hurt for her to think about what might be coming. And speaking of coming, I needed to get my mind on something else or I was going to before I even got over to her.

I poured myself some coffee, then sat down at the dining table and just looked across the vast floor to my wonderful squeeze. Finally, I got to my feet and slowly headed over to my vertically spread-eagled girl.

"Johnnie! Turn me loose and I'll work on you like you've never had. I'm sorry for my bitchyne... "EEEEEEEE!!!" That scream followed the whack of the strap. There was no way in hell that I would deliberately damage this female, and even though the lash was real, it was play on both our parts. Still, I couldn't believe the erotic feeling of power from that single stroke. My nuts were aching for release. Another pop on her butt brought another scream. And another. Now she was shrieking at the top of her lungs. This might be play, but it was torture for real.

Finally, after ten strokes, I stepped around to the side to look at her. Pulling her head back and around to look at me, I asked, "You plan to be a good girl now?" Sobbing, she nodded vigorously - or at least as much as my hand in her hair would allow. I nodded back. "Ok. Here's the deal. Get your ass over to the bed and get ready to do me. If you're really good, then you get to sleep in the bed tonight. If you aren't, then I chain you back up, give you ten more strokes, and leave you stretched out here for the night."

She was good. Really, really good.

Time passes

By winters end, I was still having fun, but I was looking forward to a trip into town and I needed to stock up on food items.

So, earlier than was wise, I did maintenance on the truck, installed the battery, and headed south. I wouldn't do it again. The streams were full of snow melt and, as big as it was, at a couple of crossings I could feel it being shifted sideways. Fortunately, I could gun it and the ten wheel drive managed to get me across. Nonetheless, I definitely wouldn't do it again.

Rolling into town, I could see that it had changed considerably. I hadn't been incommunicado in my hidden fortress, since I had a radio and I knew that what was now called the Alaska Pipeline had been approved and was in the initial stages of construction. At least, in the initial stages of planning. At any rate, the town was full of new faces from down south. New compounds of living quarters were up or being built. And of course, the bars and whorehouses had flourished. There were even a half dozen new banks.

I wasted little time in looking over the changes. First things first. I parked the truck at the fuel station, then walked the few blocks to Madam Larues. I was hoping that little Marie with the big headlights was still... What the hell? The old house was gone and in its place was a construction site. A hotel. As I retraced my steps back to the station, I wondered where they had moved.

Putting the condition of my johnson on hold, I filled up the empty drums with diesel, and as my mentor had advised, added an extra. After that, I shopped for various hardware items that I had wanted, but couldn't find in Uncle's massive stash. Finally, crates of food items - canned, mostly. Nothing perishable yet. I would pick that up just before I left. Joe let me park my truck in his fuel yard while I was in town. But, as I locked up the deuce and a half, I asked, "Joe. What happen to Larue's place?"

He shook his head with a wry smile. "She retired. Got good money for her property, but my opinion is that the competition didn't want her around."

"Competition?"

"Hell, yes. There are at least a dozen new cunt houses around, and more coming." I waited for him to flag a truck just starting to load. "I won't say that they're owned by the mob, but... just let me say that none of them seem to be stocked with a friendly madam and honest girls. I'd keep my hand on my wallet if you go in one. Money is the thing. In case you haven't noticed, the town has filled up with hard legs from every pipeline and oil field on the continent."

He wasn't kidding. As I started my initial shopping, I passed more men on the street than I would have seen in a week a year ago.

I had brought the gold I had mined during the winter. Not that I thought I needed any more money, but I needed to keep my lines of communication open with my 'banker.' So, renting a car, I drove down to the big city - Fairbanks - then following my Uncle's written instructions, pulled up to an office in the industrial side of town. It would have definitely been considered to be on the wrong side of the tracks - if there had been a railroad around anywhere. A pretty rough area. I was armed, of course, with both a hidden sidearm and a hunting knife, and knew how they were used, if necessary. Nonetheless, I had always had a policy, in that, if I thought I was going to need a weapon where I was going, I didn't go there.

This wasn't an office that you just walked in and spoke to a secretary. I knocked on the door and waited. Eventually, it opened and a head stuck out. Not a face that I would want young children to see.

'Yeah? Watcha want?"

"I need to see Mr. Malarka. Business."

"Who are you?"

I told him, and then a single word. "Gold." He motioned me to follow him and we proceeded down a long hall, lined with obviously abandoned offices. At the end, another door and he knocked. I heard a muffled word and the stiff opened the door. Inside was a well dressed middle aged man sitting at a desk. He motioned me to a chair in front of the desk. Looking up at his gorilla, the man replied with my name.

That changed the whole atmosphere. He waved for my escort to leave, waited for the door to shut, then stood up and offered his hand. "Son of a bitch! You're Ben Johnson's nephew."

Surprised, I took his hand, and nodded. "Ahh... Yep."

"Son of a bitch," he repeated, then just sat back and looked at me for a while. "He was a goddamned good man. Saved my ass in the Minto Creek fires. He was way older than me, but he could still walk my ass into the ground. Which he did, but he got us out of there before we became roasted pork, like all the other panners that screwed around not wanting to leave their claims." He lowered his voice. "I was really sorry to hear of his death." I nodded acceptance and he continued. "So, you're taking over the mine. Watcha got?"

I set the container on the desk. He hefted it and said, with a puzzled expression. "Not much in here. The color isn't running out, is it?"

I shook my head. "No, he said the vein was getting better. But it's a one man operation and I spent the winter learning. There'll be more, next run."

He nodded, set the the can on a scale, then poured the dust into something in a drawer, then weighed the empty can again. A few taps on a calculator and he pulled out a pile of cash and began to count out a bundle. I knew that the deal was that he discounted twenty percent from the current spot price of gold.

Finally, he pushed it over to me and said, "Twenty three hundred and forty."

My eyes opened wide and I looked at him in surprise. "Say what?"

It was his turn to be surprised, then he remembered. "You probably don't get the financial papers delivered to your door. Gold is way up this year. One twenty an ounce."

Holy shit. It had doubled in the last year.

I took the stash, we talked about Uncle for a few more minutes, then I took my leave of the 'bank.'

Later

Since I had several weeks before I needed to think about heading back home, I roamed the big city, engaged a hotel room, bought some stuff for me and some presents for Millie. I even took in a couple of movies.

In a couple of weeks, I headed back north to my hometown. I bummed around with some old school acquaintances - even I could enjoy a male bonding on occasion. To questions about my inheritance, I just gave out that Uncle had had a little placer claim - fun to work in the summer, but nothing that was going to make me into a millionaire playboy.

The problem was, I couldn't brag about this fabulous retreat that I now owned - all that would do would be to get unwanted guests ("...say, we were up here hunting and that storm is coming and...") or freeloaders ("Hey man, I need a place to crash till I get that job. You don't mind.") True, two hundred miles of backwoods trail was a good insulation, but my Uncle warned me never to underestimate the ability of food and money to draw scroungers.

Most nights, I would go to The Peacock. What a friggin' name for a house in a climate that a even penguin would probably freeze to death.

A week later

By now, the truck was full of supplies again ("Remember, Junior. Supplies are like money in the bank. What you buy now won't cost you more next time") and parked in Joe's fuel depot. Now the locals were beginning to realize that there was a newly made man in town. That was unfortunate.

My favorite in the Peacock was a young and somewhat plump sunflower with jet-black hair. Weekends were their busy times, but during the weekdays I could engage her all night for not much more than a one hour stand, otherwise. Obviously, we didn't screw for twelve hours, but relaxed and talked or slept. Or sort of talked. Tonight she was distracted for some reason. She was from Florida, of all places, and wasn't all that impressed with what we called summer.

I thought of a question. "When did you get here?"

She reached across me for her class of squeeze. On weekends she drank colored water like all the other girls, but on casual nights like now she could have what she wanted, since the house wasn't expecting her to service anyone else. He beautiful, young and full jugs dragged across my chest over and then back. After a gulp, she said, "In April. There was still snow on the ground. Heck, there's still snow piled up now, and it's July!"

Holy shit! Been here two months and in the sunny season and she thought it was cold! "Well, what you're seeing now is just the leftovers where the piles were bulldozed. You see these little doodads?" I reached out and pulled on her nipples.

"Hey... Those aren't doodads. That's me!"

"Well, in a couple of months these will be rock hard cold little marbles sticking out the front of your gown. Then you will see cold."

Pulling on these little love buttons reminded me that I hadn't had any tail for over an hour. She gulped down another swig. "Slow down or I'll be laying on a warm lump." She never drank much, but tonight she was really starting to tie one on. If I hadn't also been doing a pretty good job of bending my elbow, I might have noticed that both her attitude and the atmosphere of the place was... well, different.

Before unloaded my balls again, I needed to empty my bladder. I got up, leaving her laying on her back, buck naked and spread. "Hold that position. Back in a minute." I opened the door, stepped out into the hallway toward the bathroom and almost ran into the Madam. She wasn't anything like Ms. Larue. That veteran girl herder always greeted clients by name, was all smiles, and her girls had better satisfy her visitors in total. This one was more like the warden in a women's prison. She was attractive enough, but in the way of a tiger, not a good lay.

Since she took up most of the space of the narrow corridor, I came to a stop and she asked, "Problems?"

I shook my head, realizing that I had a leetle too much to drink already. That should have told me something since all the drinks in this place were diluted almost to the point of being water. Unlike Ms Larue's place, where the drinks had been honest. "Nope. Just flushing the bilges before the next trip."

She pointed behind me. "Use that one at the end of the hall. This one is having problems."

I didn't care, as long as I could whip it out and get some relief from the pressure. I turned around and just barely got the impression of a person standing there, when I was hit with an excruciating pain in my chest. Before I could react, the world went away.

An unknown time later

White. Snowflakes going around in circles in my brain. Dark.

Later - I guess

A room. White. A man. White - that is, he was wearing white. Slowly things came into focus. I could almost recognize the man. He was... was...

"Welcome back to the living, John." Snap. Suddenly my brain shifted into gear and I recognized Doc Hooper. I tried to reply but nothing came out but an 'Urk.'

He came closer. "Wait. You're still intubated." His hands got too close to focus on, then I had a sudden urge to gag, then a mess of plastic pulled away from my face. "Try it now."

I managed to grunt out the words, "What? Where?"

He was checking something on me as he replied. "You're in my clinic, of course. You've been here for a week. Ever since you were found face down in a snow pile. No, don't talk. Just listen." He moved around to the other side and shined a light into each of my eyes. "Until a couple of days ago, my money was on Ole Nick dragging you down to the fires, but damned if you didn't kick him in the face and get loose." More pumping and prodding. "Right now you just rest and get some strength back. You're going to be here long enough to ask all the questions you want." With that, he stuck me with something and I drifted off.

More later

A few days later, I was sitting up and actually finishing my first real meal. It was pretty good, considering that the Doc's clinic consisted of just two rooms. I assume that someone went out and got it. The pain in the left part of my chest was down to a minimum roar, and I was almost feeling normal, aside from being weak as a kitten.

I looked up as Doc walked in the door. I swung a fish stick at him for a greeting. "Pull up a chair, Doc. Time for some chat."

He did, and replied, "You first. What was the last thing you remember?" I told him about the joy house, leaving the room to piss, then running into the madam, turning around and lights out.

He nodded. "That goddamned place and about three others like it. You're the fourth or fifth stiff that has turned up dead and we think it was after a visit to those places. Only in your case, you jumped ship off the Styx riverboat." He shook his head. "Hell, they're making money hand over fist with their conveyer belt girls and watered liquor, but that apparently isn't enough. How much money did you have on you?"

"How much did you find in my clothes," I countered. He shook his head. I admitted, "A lot. Three grand at least."

"You went to a whorehouse with that much cash in your pocket? Maybe I should have opened your scull for an inspection. What the hell were you thinking?"

I agreed with him, but answered, "I didn't flash it, Doc. I just didn't think about it at the time." I set the tray aside. "Now, tell me your side of the story."

He leaned back. "Short enough. I woke up with someone pounding on my door. It was Stuffer." Somebitch! Joe Stufferberg was the town... well, bum. He was plenty intelligent, but something in his makeup just wanted to be a free spirit. He ate and paid for his little room by collecting scrap, doing errands and so forth. "He dragged me outside and down to behind the old rendering plant - you know, where they pile the snow from Marple street and the square. There you were, face down in a pile, bleeding like a harpooned whale." He paused a moment, then went on. "Actually, that snow pile was the second best thing that happened to you that assault. Apparently they just threw you into the pile, face down, and the snow actually formed itself around your chest from the impact. It closed up the wound somewhat, and between that and the pseudo ice pack, prevented your system from pumping out blood like it would have if they had just dumped you on the ground. You would have desanguinated... bled to death in short order."

I thought about that for a moment. One thing for sure. Stuffer wasn't going to have trouble finding money to eat on for a long time. How much is your life worth to the town bum, and would any of the upright citizens have reacted as swiftly?

The Doc went on. "When I examined the other bodies, they all had like trauma. I mean, knife wounds, but in various fatal places. Bob and I assumed that they were the result of brawls after too much time in the bars." Bob was the local constable. "All of them were imports. You're the first sourdough to come up stuck. And from your story, they might not have been fights. We might be looking at murder. In fact, in your case, we are. Obviously, they wanted it to look like the result of a blade fight, otherwise they would have just cut throats to make sure."

Hmmmm. Now my mind was in gear and racing. "Does anybody else know I'm here?"

"No. Just Bob, Stuffer and myself."

Good, I thought. "Let's keep it that way"

The Doc got the wrong message. "Now wait a minute, John. I know you can probably take on most of these daffodils from down south with just a spoon, but going after whatever mob that runs these cesspools is a bad idea. Leave it to the Constable."

Ha. Bob was a nice guy, but handling domestic disputes and traffic fines was just about pushing him to his limits. "Sorry, Doc. You misunderstand. I just want to be able to get up and move fast if someone decides that I'm evidence that shouldn't be left laying around." I thought of something else. "You said that the snow pile was the Second best thing that happened. What was the first?"

He looked at me for a moment. "Have you ever had a physical? Any kind of checkup?" I shook my head. For one thing, other than minor damages requiring a bandaid or a bandage, I had never been sick or badly hurt in my life. "Ok. First. The person who stuck you was either an expert or was lucky. And I'm guessing expert. He delivered a wide blade knife thrust to your chest, moving upward because that is the way to miss the ribs. It was dead centered on your heart. An instant kill."

Hmmmm. I wasn't following. I should have been dead if it happened the way he described, and I knew him to be a good doctor so I had no reason to doubt him. "Ok, since you aren't Saint Peter and I don't have wings or a pitchfork..."

"John. You have a condition called situs inversus. Ever heard of that?" I shook my head. "It means that you are the one in about twenty two thousand individuals who have their organs reversed. Your heart is on the right side of your body. The knife wound was bad enough, but it only punctured a lung."

A week later

"This is a bad idea, John. You need at least two more weeks of rest. You're still recovering from a wound that would have killed most men."

"I can't help it, Doc. That weather front will be here in three days and this is the last chance to get home this year. And believe me, that is where I want to be more than anything. Besides, I don't have a nickel on me. What would I do?" I couldn't tell him that I had a woman who might not last the winter if I didn't get back.

The Doc didn't let go. "You can stay here. Dammit, I'm not worried about the money. But if you die on the way back, your Uncle is not going to like my explanation of why. And it won't be that many years before I see him again."

An hour later, with him still shouting instructions on changing dressings and not exerting myself, I waved to him from the window of my truck and headed north.

He was right. It was a stupid idea. If there had been a tree over the road that required my sawing it to move on - or a flat tire - I would have died on the trail. As it was, I passed out twice - fortunately in low gear on level ground - and by the time I got to the cabin, I was in full double vision and shaking like I had palsy. Millie ran up to me as she heard me enter. Then her cries of welcome changed to horrified exclamations when she saw the bloody shirt from the now soaked bandage.

Time passes

Just as the Doc wanted, I stayed in bed for two weeks with Millie hovering over me like a cloud. I didn't even have to get up to piss - she would stick a bowl between my legs and hold my dick till I was through. And she made no erotic moves while doing it. In fact, during my recovery, she wore the only piece of clothing she had - a kitchen apron - that would cover up her twat and tits so I wouldn't want to try anything too soon.

I just had to leave the truck and supplies in its shed, still loaded for now. There was no way I was going to manhandle so much as can of beans out of it, let alone six hundred pound fuel drums.

But, in three weeks I was up and around - not gold mining, for sure - and in another month I was still somewhat weak, twenty pounds lighter, but essentially well. I knew my strength would be back up to par in a month or so. Most of my time that month was spent in planning.

By the middle of winter, I was fine. My weight and strength were back to normal and I spent the time doing some mining. Now I knew what I was doing and it went much faster. I didn't need it - most of Uncle's stash of cash and all of his dust was still in the warehouse cavern. But, I like to work with my hands and the mining process fit me to a T. And of course, Millie became the main course again whenever we felt the need.

One storm after another came through. Not that it bothered me, deep in my warm mountain womb. In fact, if it wasn't for the radio, I would have no idea of what was happening, weather wise, beyond the viewing distance of my cabin windows. But, as I knew it would, eventually there came a pause in the weather.

Outside with snow coming down

I had trimmed my hair short, and totally shaved my beard - which I was starting to get tired of. It collected dust from the mining and was hot. But, the upshot was that I looked like a totally different person. The snowmobile was checked out with a test run, gassed up with two spare cans on the rear and emergency rations stowed. As the sun rose for its very short day, I cranked it up, pulled the canopy closed and headed south.

By the time I got to the emergency stash box, I had only used up one spare can, so I swapped it with a full one, topped off the tank and kept going. It was a much faster trip than in the truck and by evening, I was approaching the town. On the outskirts, I pulled into an abandoned and falling down building and parked. First things first. I topped off the tank again, then took the empty can and the partial and headed down the street. At the gas station, I filled them up and took them back. Now I was ready to haul ass if and when necessary.

I checked into one of the new hotels under a phony name and got some sleep. There was little chance of my meeting anyone I knew and if I did, I doubt that they would recognize me in my new look. Especially, bundled up in a parka and snow pants.

Later

When I woke up, I began to reconnoiter the new additions to my hometown, starting with the house that got me bladed. I wanted the son of a bitch who stabbed me without warning, but I had no idea who it was. My only memory was a tall enough shape that it had to be a man, but with no details. I needed a snitch.

Unlike a normal whorehouse, these were open 24 hours, since the workers beginning the preliminary work for the pipeline construction also worked around the clock and got off work at random times. For these young men, the houses would be a major draw anytime, but up here, in winter, with almost nothing else to do but stare at the walls of their quarters, they were the town's prime attraction. Actually, they weren't really bordellos - that was illegal - but were advertised as places for the working man to "relax and play cards, listen to music, have a drink or two over a good meal" - and so on. Wholesome entertainment for all the young boys from down south.

I went in and had a drink or two, staying at a corner table and acting like I wasn't looking around. There was no chance of my getting drunk - the overpriced drinks were mostly water with a dollop of crappy rotgut. Almost immediately, I saw that the original madam was still here. That was good. I had something to discuss with her. There were three or four goons doing bouncer work, but try as I might, I couldn't associate any of them with that night. I didn't see who I wanted and I didn't want to ask yet. That would come if I couldn't find her.

Later

Knock, knock. I heard a shuffling and shortly, the door of the little shack opened and a face peered out. "Yeah. Whatchawant?"

"Hell, Stuffer. Let me in. It's freezing out here."

His eyes widened as he finally recognized me - or, probably my voice. "John. Damn if it isn't you." He opened the door and pulled on my arm to enter. "Without the face fur, you look like a teenager again. Glad to see you're still stumping around, son."

If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't be and this was the first time that I had been able to thank him for my life. He pishawed and poo-poohed his actions, but I wasn't having it. I thanked him profusely for that night.

"Stuffer, I didn't wait around to thank you back then, because I didn't have anything left after they emptied my pants. And I wanted to get the hell out of Dodge before they tried to finish the job. Whoever 'they' are." I handed him a thick envelope. "This isn't payment for my life, because there isn't enough money in the world for that. It's a salary for your help, if you will." I didn't know if I should say what I was thinking. Stuffer was at least fifty years of age or more and I was barely in my twenties. He had probably forgotten more of the world than I had ever read about. I risked it. "Don't do what I did and carry it on you. Hide it and..."

He smiled and held up his hand. "It wasn't necessary, but thanks, John. Now I can stay around here." To my puzzled look, he continued. "The crowd of sunflower boots has pushed prices though the roof. I was thinking of moving down to the coast and get out of the inflation." He pushed some magazines off a chair and offered it to me. "Since you came all this way in the dead of winter, I assume it wasn't just because you needed another piece of ass." Stuffer might be what some considered to be a derelict has-been, but he was no fool and much more intelligent than most people suspected. I often wondered what happened in his life to make him give up an engineering career. Not my business and I didn't ask.

"Nope. I plan to find the bastard with the knife. Its all I've been thinking about all winter. By the way, nobody knows I'm here so help me keep it that way. My ride is parked out of town." He nodded and I went on. "I might stop in and tell Doc, but you know how he is - I doubt that he would encourage my trying to... What's the matter?"

Stuffer's face suddenly fell into a stricken look. He gulped, then grimaced. "That's right. You couldn't have known." My hair began to stand up on my neck. "Someone broke into his clinic and killed him a couple of days after you left." My jaw dropped and he went on. "Supposedly it was for drugs, but I have a feeling that the word probably got around about you surviving the attack and that he was beginning to think that all the other stiffs might not have died in a brawl."

Stunned, I just sat there thinking about old Doc. I hadn't even paid him yet for saving my life. He was a good man who would fix up anybody and not even ask for payment if they were short at the moment. Dead! And because of me. Then the sorrow began to turn into a raging desire for revenge - far beyond what I had wanted for my pain. Stuffer saw the emotions change and reached out to take my arm.

"Son! John! I can see what you're thinking. Hell, I can feel it radiating out of you. But don't do anything rash." I nodded. That wasn't a problem. I was seething inside, but not irrational. I had no intention of blowing out of here and storming the cunt house, shouting for the coward to show himself. All that would do would get me six foot under, like the others.

Grimly, I shook my head. "Don't worry. Whatever I do, it will only be after some ice cold planning. Will you help?"

A couple of days later.

We were sitting at his little card table that passed for furniture in his shack and eating some really good takeout. He was filling me in on what he had found out. "She's still around, but works for the Midnight Sun now." I nodded. I had seen that new house during my nightly walkabouts. "White 4x4, beat up. It has a tiger tail tied to the top of the radio antenna. She lives in a little condo with three other hookers. About two miles from the Sun. Here's the address."

"What's her schedule," I asked.

"Usually, eight to about three - at night - but I've only got a couple of days of data. Hell, it could be random, or always changing, depending on the roustabout crowd."

"I'll look over the ground tonight. Remember, if I disappear, it means that I'm either stiff or it worked. And, this time, there will be more than one blade in the game, so don't worry too much about who gets stuck."

Time passes

I woke up and put on a full set of white snow gear. It was really coming down - sideways - and the vicious wind made the chill factor brutal. I had a pocket full of chemical warmers - I had no idea how long I would be waiting. I knew that my target had gone to 'work' at sixteen hundred hours, so she would get off some time after oh three hundred. I sheltered on the downwind side of the building, looking into the distance down the street. I would make a decision whether to go through with it, or back off for another day or another plan. Actually, this wasn't really a plan. Just a spur of the moment decision because of the massive snowstorm that was in progress.

Sure enough, about oh three thirty, I saw a car turn into the parking lot. I moved up behind another pair of parked and snow covered cars to wait. It was her 4x4 but it was way too dark to see how many people she might have with her. The perfect setup would be for it to be just my quarry, but I knew that she almost always had one or two other girls also getting off work.

I spotted the slot that she was aiming for. Most people would try to park as close to the front door as possible, and these sunflower girls were no exception. I was crouched on the far side of the automobile that she would be parking next to. In the snowfall, and me in my white snowsuit, I was almost invisible. Did I mention that, by coincidence, the street light closest to their front door must have burned out? Eventually, the power company would come along and fix it, and discover a small hole in the lamp shield. Approximately .22 calibre sized.

The car stopped, the lights went out and both doors opened. I moved around the back of the car I was hiding behind and slipped up behind my quarry just as she slammed the door. Like her companion who was already on her way, she was preparing a sprint to the door of the building and the warmth inside. She didn't even begin to run.

I spun her around, and with a measured swing of an arm, put my fist into her breadbasket. She doubled over with just a squeak that was totally inaudible in the howling wind. She was now only concerned about trying to make her lungs move air in and out. I slung her over my shoulder and disappeared into the night, wind and snow, with her companion concerned with navigating the steps on the front of the building and none the wiser. I knew that my captive would probably take about thirty seconds to get her air back and start screaming, but before then, I had her on the ground behind a shed, on her stomach, and was wrapping duct tape around her pulled back wrists. While I waited for her to start breathing normally, I went ahead and taped her ankles together. Finally, she began gasping, and preparing to give out a blood curdling scream. She just started a shriek, when I slapped the end of the tape over her mouth, grabbed her hair with my left hand to pull her head up, then wrapped the tape round and round her head. Sloppy, but it would work.

Then it was back over my shoulder and up the road to my ride. I had purchased a rescue sack - nothing more than a large, well... sack, made of what was then known as space blanket material. Something that came out of NASA, I guess. Very tough and a good insulator. The sack was carried in some emergency kits so that a helpless person - like a child or young person, or someone injured or unconscious - could be transported from the site of the rescue without them freezing to death.

Into the sack went my captive, and onto the back of the snowmobile went the sack. Shortly I was roaring north.

Going up the road like hell

Her struggles were slowing down - from exhaustion, I presumed. Over the sound of the engine and gear train, there was no way to hear any sounds she was making. Not that I was concerned. Once I made the turnoff from the dwindling road, I stopped, opened the sack and shone my flashlight in the opening. She was quiet now, and averting her head and eyes from the blinding light. I reached down and gripped the edge of the duct tape over her mouth with the fingers of both hands, and ripped. As it came loose, she let out a low scream. Then immediately began babbling about please Mister don't hurt me please let me go...

I pulled the strings on the bag to close it and straightened up. A few minutes of stretching my legs, and we were off again.

A few hours later

I pulled up to the snowmobile shed, got out and opened the door, then drove in. It had been a much slower trip back than it had been going. For one thing, I was carrying much more weight, and secondly, the snow was coming down thick. I had no desire to whang into a tree in the dark and limited visibility. It would be a long, long walk carrying a girl in a bag if I had trashed my ride. I picked up the bag, slung it over my shoulder like Santa Clause making deliveries, and headed for the cabin.

Millie, of course, was waiting, and overjoyed to see that I was still walking, unstuck and unholed. She had been in on the plan - not the tactical stuff about how it might go down, but that the mission was to get a person connected to that night who could fill in some information.

I dumped the moaning woman out of the sack on to the previously prepared mat next to the bathroom. After hours of being doubled up in a sack, bound hand and foot, all that came out of her was a low moan. A chain long enough to allow her to move between her mat and the room was already laying out with one end attached to a ringbolt in the rock wall. With one of the manacles that Uncle had bought for his squeeze, I attached her ankle to the end of the chain. Then I cut the tape off of her wrists and feet. As her limbs flopped out to a normal position, shaking and quivering from the release, she just moaned.

I stood up and looked my captive over. Millie was standing there, also watching with interest. "So this is the bitch that tried to get you killed?" She looked back at the female and wrinkled her nose. "What about her clothes? She stinks of pee." That was obvious - no female in the world could travel that long without emptying her bladder.

I handed my hunting knife to Millie. "Be my guest. Just don't cut her."

With a cry of joy, she took the offered tool, knelt down beside the quivering woman and, cutting the belt, pulled the fur pants down and off her legs. Of course, one ankle had a manacle attached, so that pants leg just slid down the chain. I reached over, unlocked the binder for a second, pulled the end of the chain through, then locked it back. Shortly, Millie had her fur coat off and on the growing pile. The mini-dress was easy. She just pulled it off over the woman's head. No panties, but the bra was soon loose after a couple of cuts.

"See that," I said, pointed to the woman's fur patch between her legs. "I want her smooth and her crack showing, just like yours." Enough of this. I was about dead from the action of the last day or so.

I reached down and took her jaw in my hand and pointed her face at mine. "I'm beat," I said. "Sleep time." I pointed to the opening behind her. "Thats a bathroom if you need it." She did. Being a female, there was no way that she spent all that time in the sack without pissing on herself. "You can shower if you want. But you will keep very quiet so I can sleep. Or... I can tie you back up and gag you again. Understand?"

Even with my holding her jaw, she managed to shake her head vigorously. Obviously, the choice between being hogtied and keeping quiet was no choice at all. I stripped down, took a quick and steaming shower, and crashed.

I pointed to Millie. "While we're on the subject of cracks, get yours over to the bed and open for business."

Shortly, emptied and satisfied, I lay back and crashed.

The next morning.

I woke up refreshed and lay there staring at the rock overhead, then suddenly remembered the activities the night before. I quickly sat up and looked over at my new captive. She was still asleep. Not surprising, considering all the adrenaline pumping experiences she had had the night before. I got up, pulled on my shorts - the only clothing I usually wore in the warm caverns, unless I was working. I decided to let her sleep it out. She would need the rest - she had a whole lot of questions to answer.

I had thought all this over ever since I staggered back here from Doc's, at the end of summer. Now, I had essentially kidnapped a person. Even if she were an accessory to robbery and murder, the government likes to think it is the only entity with the ability to punish criminals properly. So, even if I were to file a complaint, how could I prove it? No way in hell. My word against theirs. But this was still essentially the frontier - at least as close to one as there is on the planet, now.

So, this woman would be my guest for a long time. She had no idea where she was. Actually, she probably had no idea who I was, so someday, maybe, I could dump her in a coastal city and let her complain to whomever she wanted. Her tale of being held captive in a huge underground complex would be hard to swallow. And who did it? John? You mean that John who lives clear up in the Arctic Circle in the little cabin and pans for a few grains of gold during the short time that the water isn't frozen. Give us a break!

Millie was already awake, just laying there snuggled next to me. I tweaked a nipple enough to make her give a happy yip, then ordered, "Three breakfasts." She hopped up, tits bobbing as usual and paddled over to the kitchen.

I noticed that my captive was awake, but still sitting warily on her mat. I ignored her until a meal for three was prepared, then took a tray over to her and set it down on the floor. Back in the kitchen area, I began to eat, sitting across from Millie, and thought about what was about to happen. Up to now, she was a target, a quarry, a point to begin my quest for reveng... justice. But, a stirring in my groin gave me a different feeling. It was beginning to dawn on me that I had a female under my power. A helpless and chained female.

I tried to sort out the feelings. I had always liked pussy. From the time, years ago, that Mary Jo took me into the abandoned sawmill to show me her hidden cave, I had pursued tail. She had broken in a lot of young men, and from that day on, my quest centered around females. Before my Uncle introduced me to his squeeze, I had no inkling the fetishes of bondage and torture and sub culture of sex. And if I had heard about it, I would probably have dismissed it as silly. What good is a tied up cunt? It should feel the same no matter what the status of the female. Little did I know. By now, I was still an amateur at the sport, but it had become a major part of my sexual drive now. Did the desire to dominate reside in all men, or did it just find fertile ground in me? And was the desire to be submissive a part of the female physic? Hell, I didn't know. Back then, I couldn't even spell the word psychology.

I walked over to her and stood looking down. She look back at me in fear, although I was positive that she hadn't yet connected me with that stiff that she had baited months ago. After all, since then she had seen and serviced hundreds of men. I was sure she would remember that night, but probably not the face of the poor bastard who was ambushed.

"Stand up," I ordered. She shook her head, obviously experiencing major fear at her situation. Ok, so we'll do it the hard way. I walked over to a shelf, picked up a pair of wrist manacles that I had found in Millie's "hope chest." Uncle must have emptied a store, somewhere, of every piece of bondage item they had.

She saw them, then started to scramble to her feet, but fell back with a cry of fear when I pushed on her head. Straddling her chest, I sat down and pinned her to the mat. Then, one at a time I locked a wrist into a cuff. Now she was screaming - for help, for mercy, for stuff that I couldn't understand.

From the rock ceiling twenty feet above, a rope dangled from a pulley - another little item that I had put in during the winter, in hope that I would be able to use it. I stood up, took the end and pulled it down far enough to be able to tie it to the center chain of her manacles. Then, over at the wall, I untied the loose end, and pulled. She struggled but was dragged to her feet by the action of the rope through the overhead pulley. I pulled enough to lift her wrists above her head, with her elbows bent a little. Then I tied it off.

By now, satisfaction with my plan was in conflict with the erotic feeling of seeing a helpless woman in front of me. But, information first - playtime second. She had showered last night, so she was clean. I just walked around her, looking. She was the same woman that I had had several times last summer. Not skinny, by any means. Somewhat like Millie, slightly overweight but that just made her a good mattress. Her tits were large, like Millie's, but the girl being much younger, were considerably higher on her chest.

Suddenly, she noticed that I was carrying my knife. It was just for show, but it got a reaction.

"Nooooooooo!" she shrieked. "PLEASE MISTER! DON'T HURT ME. PLEASSEEEE!" And so on. She had pulled back as far as her bonds would allow, but it obviously did no good as I walked closer. I held the knife up to the bottom of her neck, then - with the blade backwards, of course - drew a line down between her tits to her cunt hair. Now the wailing turned into just unintelligible pleading.

I just stood there enjoying the scenery, my johnson fully reacting to the sights and sounds. Eventually she wound down and just stood there looking at me under her raised arms, her tits jiggling as her body shook. The reaction was for her fear of what was happening, not the embarrassment of being naked before a man. That emotion had to be long gone in a woman who bared it all several times a night in a bordello.

Finally, after letting her stew for a while, I asked, "Do you remember me?"

She violently shook her head. "NO, Mister! No. What did I do?"

I walked up to her, held my face six inches from her's. "Look closely. Are you sure."

"NO. NO. I DON'T. Pleasseee." Now she was almost weeping from fear. She was shaking like she had just come in from the cold.

I smiled grimly. "Think back to last summer. Remember one night, a guy with long hair and a beard. We screwed and drank half the night away, but you knew that he was being set up to be killed and robbed." I pointed to a definite scar just below my left nipple. "This is where the knife went in, but your man didn't quite finish the job."

That jogged her memory. Her face turned into a horrid mask of fear from the memory, and the sight of the corpse-to-be that had just reminded her of what she had participated in. She let out a squealing wail, and her bladder let go. As the yellow pee streamed down her legs, they gave way and she just dangled by her arms, alternately babbling and moaning. I left her and went into the bathroom.

Later

Refreshed, I looked out of the bathroom niche to the girl - now bare assed and buck naked. Obviously, she still had her arms over her head, but she had gotten her strength back and was standing up on her own. I was still being whipsawed by conflicting emotions. I wanted information above all, but by now I also wanted her. Even on nights when my nuts were aching from a failure to connect with a woman, I never considered rape. I still didn't know if I could do it. Of course, many was the time that I 'forcibly' took Millie with her bound, gagged or otherwise helpless, but that wasn't rape. That was play.

I shook my head, then walked back out to stand in front of the girl, not really knowing if I wanted her to cooperate or refuse.

She just stood there, wide eyed, looking at me under her raised arms. I assumed that she had decided that supplication wasn't going to work since she had stopped the incessant pleas.

Here we go. "I'm going to ask some questions and you're going to answer. If I decide you're lying to me - well, let's just hope you don't." I waited for a few seconds and continued. "Who's idea was it at the Peacock to rob and kill guys coming in for tail?" She shook her head, but gave no answer. "Who was the knife man?" Still no reaction besides some minor shaking. I had found out the name of the madam from Stuffer. "What did Arie have to do with the plan? Was it her idea or was she just a player." Now I just waited and stared at her. She looked back, then away, then back again, but still no speech. Obviously, her fear of them was greater than of me. It was time to adjust that attitude.

Millie, of course, was watching, both in excitement and also in fear. Her life in the complex had been, well, normal and steady, from day to day. Except for me showing up at the door with disturbed and bloody bandages, her diet of excitement had been very low. Right now she was holding a couple of items that she was well acquainted with, waiting for me to ask for one. She had been in the exact place and position of the new girl, and also waiting for punishment. But, in the case of Millie, she knew that her pain would never be pushed past the point of damage.

As I tried to walk behind the partially suspended girl, she continually turned to face me. Hmmmm. This wasn't going to work. As a cruel whip master, I was definitely an amateur. I pointed to Millie, then down at the girl's legs. She ran over to her chest of gear, pulled out a pair of ankle bracelets - each with a short chain - and came back to the scene of the action. Kneeling down, she clicked a bracelet around an ankle, then pulled it out and hooked the end of the chain into an eyebolt strategically set into the rock floor. Then around to the other side, and shortly, my victim was not only standing with her arms over her head, but her legs were widely spread and she was unable to turn around again.

Now when I walked behind her, she could turn her head and look, but only twist her body somewhat. When she saw me pick up a long flat whip from the floor, she knew what was coming. "PLEEEESEE MISTER. Don't hit me!"

I looked at her, flipping the blade of the whip over my shoulder. "Are you going to talk?"

She violently shook her head. "I can't. They'll kill me. Please!" Now she was sobbing.

I stepped up and grabbed her by her disheveled hair - not hard, just firmly. "And you think I won't?" She just stared back with wide open eyes. I wouldn't, of course. The knife man I would, in a second, but, without having any facts at all, I knew that this little girl was just the bait in the scheme. "So you won't tell me anything?" She shook her head. "Let's test that theory."

I had no experience in whipping anyone for real and I definitely didn't want to draw blood. But, while she was trying to figure out what I meant, I stepped back, aimed and let her have a stroke across her back, considerably harder than I usually did to Millie. The flat leather of the lash made a loud 'twack' as it hit. Her reaction was extraordinary. She threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs. Not words, just noise. She tried to pull her hands down, then her feet up - anything to relieve the pain radiating from her back. I just stood there for a second, watching a helpless female writhing under the - My lash. The feeling was like nothing I had ever experienced - not erotic, per se, even with her jugs dancing and bobbling up and down and side to side, but just... Hell, I don't know. Whipping Millie was erotic enough, but this was for real and the feeling was overpowering.

After a short inspection of the bright red welt across her skin, I satisfied myself that she was not damaged in any way, no matter what her nerve endings were saying. So, I let her have another one. More shrieks. God this was... exciting? ...I couldn't think of a word. Count to thirty, then another. Then...

Suddenly, I dropped to my knees as a haze of erotic bliss enveloped me. I reached for my dick as it erupted and began to empty my nuts onto the floor. Then, I dropped back on my butt, unbelieving. I hadn't had a wet dream since I was a pre Mary Jo adolescent. I had never suspected the eroticism of actual chastisement of a woman and its effect on someone who had never given it a thought before. Millie just stood there, wide eyed, as disbelieving as I was.

In a few minutes, I got to my feet, went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up. Looking at myself in the mirror, I was still having trouble believing what just happened.

Meanwhile, back in the cavern, I doubted that my captive had seen my detour into erotic bliss - she was still wiggling and moaning from the lashes. Pulling her head up by her hair again, I asked, "Ready to talk, or do you want more."

Very quietly, she said, "Nooo. Yesss. Please don't hit me."

"From the top, then. Who planned it and who was in on it."

Later

By now the reaction had set in - I was weak as a kitten. Not only the erotic effect of my punishment of the girl, but what she had babbled out under the threat of getting the leather on her back again. She had described a horrible situation in that goddamned cunt house. Doc had mentioned three or four stiffs that were found with alleged knife fight wounds. This little hooker - "What's your name?" "M...Mary." - had recited a knowledge of at least three times that many in addition to a couple of her fellow girls who just disappeared one day between dawn and daylight - probably for refusing to participate. The madam, Arie, was a major player in the scheme, as were most of other girls, but the heavy was a dude called Holmes. She thought that it was he who owned the joint.

I sat on the bed thinking the situation over. What to do about it? And what was I going to do with my captive. Just turning her loose wasn't an option. Besides the problem of the law, the worst threat would be what the principles of that mini mob would do if they learned that one of their cunts had squealed. I doubted that a set of sunflower toughs, for all their macho, would dare attempt to find my claim two hundred miles north, but if I ever showed up in town again - which I had to do every summer - well, that might be interesting.

More thought.

Later

"I'm feeling pretty good right now." I was standing before her, still roped to the ceiling but with her legs now loose except for the manacle hooked to her keeper chain. "I'll give you one of three choices." She just looked at me, frighten and wary. "First, since you tried to help kill me, my first idea was to cut your throat and dump you outside for the wolves. They'll get rid of the evidence in short order and as far as the world is concerned, this little cunt just disappeared forever."

She shook her head, body now shaking with fear again.

I continued. "Or, I can take you back to town, turn you loose and you can tell your mob just where you have been and what you told me. Of course, I will be on the radio and the cops will be waiting with the full story. You can take your pick on who to tell your tale to - the cops or your employers." Of course, I didn't have a two-way radio, and even if I did, that would be a pretty heavy story to try to get someone to believe over a long distance conversation.

That option didn't seem to cheer her up, either. She was as pasty white as the snow outside.

I tried again. "The third choice is to stay here with me. You will be my... my... well, slave, shall we say. Cook, clean, fuck - whatever I want done and when I want it done." Of course, the only real option that I was going to allow was the last one, but since the first two would result in her messy death, I pretty well knew which one she would choose. "Well...?"

I was right. "I'll work for you, Mister. Please. I will... just don't kill me."

"What's your full name?"

"M...Mary Hofford."

I pointed to Millie, just standing there being entertained. "You see that woman?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, Sir."

"She's your boss. Same as me. She says cook, you cook. Clean, you clean. She wants your tongue up her twat, then it better start licking." I waited to see if that sunk in, then, "I don't really need another woman up here to eat up my supplies. Your stay here depends entirely on your behaving. Otherwise, out you go. And it's a two hundred mile walk to the next warm place."

I reached up - she flinched, not knowing what I was doing - and unhooked her manacles and in seconds she was free. I turned my back and walked into the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her drop to her mat and collapse with the reaction of the last couple of hours. I came back out with a wet washrag and a towel and dropped them beside her. Pointing to the puddle of pee on the floor, I said. "Clean that up, then take a shower."

Back over at the bed, Millie and I talked over our new tenant. "You're going back, aren't you?" I nodded. "Why? Nobody can bother you here. We're safe, our lives are good. You even have a new cunt to play with."

"If I thought someone else would handle the problem, I would do just that." I pointed to the shower niche, from which sounds issued of the afore mentioned cunt running water. "She was just bait. But someone down there is a cold blooded murderer and as far as I know, I'm the only one who even has an idea that something is wrong." Plus, I need to see the guy that gave me this." I tapped the scar on my chest.

Time passes

This storm was a real howler. It had been blowing for three weeks - unusual, even for up here. I spent the time mining. The color run was really good and I was beginning to store up a real stash of my own.

Millie was breaking in her new servant. Mary helped cook, plus clean and do laundry. And anything else that was needed.

A day or so later, I came in from the mining tunnel, had just opened the door and heard a low "Ahhhhoowww." What the heck? I saw Millie on her knees on the bed, and Mary laying on it with her feet up. Getting closer, I saw that Mary's ankles were cuffed to the end posts, which made her not only fairly well spread, but with her legs raised, her entire bottom could be seen - from hole to hole. Her wrists were also fastened to the upper posts.

I stopped and watched Millie grab a hank of pussy hair between thumb and forefinger, then quickly yank. Again, there was a protest of "Ahhoooww."

"Having fun?" I asked.

Millie looked around with a grin. "Just following my master's orders. You wanted this new cunt as smooth as a new born baby. And pulling it out lasts far longer than shaving."

I could feel my rod rising, but I needed a shower badly. I shucked off my working clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Time passes

The storm blew itself out and I marked time. It was still the dead of winter and I knew that it would only be a sort time before another would come through. I saddled up and headed for town again. Now, of course, my new cunt was free of her chain, but as much a prisoner as if she had been behind bars. I assumed that she would eventually get up the courage to go down the exit tunnel and into the cabin, but one look over the frozen landscape, visible for miles, along with the biting cold and she would scuttle back into the warmth.

I had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to obey Millie in everything she ordered. And if I came back and found that she hadn't, then the lashing she had gotten that first time would seem like a gentle massage to what she would get.

Because of my tentative plans, I stopped at certain points in the trail and wrapped a tree or rock with yellow florescent marking tape. As it turned out, if I hadn't, then this tale would never have been written.

Once into town, I rented a car and headed for the big city and my 'banker.' He was surprised to see me this time of year, but I filled him in on some of the happenings over the last few months and asked his opinion on a few things. Shortly, I was headed back to my hometown with a few items in my pocket and some in a bag.

Time passes

Stuffer had given me some more bad news. Jake Wilson - not a close buddy - but a friend that I had grown up with, hunting and fishing - had been found face down in a snowdrift, but this time shot. Stuffer shook his head. "This isn't just an amateur mob trying to protect their business. Criminal enterprises only kill as a last resort." He poured us some more coffee. "Someone in that nest of vipers is a psycho. Just kills for any minor reason."

I nodded, still assimilating the information about Jake. One thing for sure, someone was going to pay in full, eventually. "What about Bob?" I asked.

"The constable?" I nodded. "Crap, he stays in his office. About the only reason he will leave is for a fight somewhere. I can't prove it, but I suspect that he got the word to keep out of stuff that isn't his business." He shook his head. "Worthless for something like this."

I nodded again. "I need more info. Mary was in on it - sort of unwillingly, but still acted as one of the bait girls, but she has no idea of who the big wigs are. I need to talk to that goddamn madam Arie."

"You figure out how?

"Working on it."

Days pass

Finally, another major storm was roaring in. This time I had a plan - a real plan, not just a loose idea about meeting someone I wanted to ask questions of. I had gone to the Peacock a few times, but always made sure that they knew that I was just holding enough to get a girl for an hour. In fact, I would pull rumpled bills out of my pocket and count them out, just barely meeting the price each time. I had no desire to get tagged as someone with money in their pocket. And, I never drank in the place unless I saw the bartender ladle it out of a bottle at the bar. I assumed that drinks on the counter couldn't be drugged without putting way too many of the wrong stiffs to sleep. But, what goes around, comes around, I hoped.

To keep from being tagged by the state police as a bordello, all the cunt houses had their girls sleep off the premises. So they were scattered in apartments all over town. I had long since followed my next quarry to see what she drove, which way she went, and where she lived. And I practiced my scheme over and over.

The snow was coming down sideways and the wind chill was brutal, even for me, dressed in high end snow gear and with strategically placed chemical warmers in my pockets. Still, even out of the wind, I was shaking with cold. My binoculars kept freezing up and continually had to be wiped with alcohol. I was about to blow off the night, assuming that she was going to bed down on the premises because of the storm, then, I saw the headlights of her jeep come on. I stood up, ran frantically in place for a few seconds to get the circulation going, then moved out to the intersection, picked up a previously placed chunk of lumber, and threw it across the road.

I could see her car fishtailing somewhat. Even with her studded tires, traction was iffie on a night like this. Fortunately, she was driving with some caution as she approached the intersection. In the nights that I had observed her, she usually just blew past the stop sign at the corner. At this time of night, the roads were empty, and besides, I doubted that she had any fear of the constabulary giving her a ticket. She saw the lumber across her half of the road, slowed down to take in the situation, the slowly moved into the intersection.

The lumber worked. She had slowed enough for me to sight in on her rear tire and pull the trigger. The .22 short in a long barrel gun, and on a night when the wind was howling, was totally inaudible. Now, I just hoped it worked fast enough.

As she drove, I loped along behind her, as before, my white snowsuit making me invisible to any but someone actually looking for a nut job out in this weather. She got several hundred feet up the road before I saw her taillights turn sideways and stop. I kept jogging until I got within visual range of the car, then I slowed down and just normally walked along, head down against the wind. In the vague glow of streetlights, I saw the woman get out of the car, walk around it and look at the tire. Over the wind, there was no way that I could hear the steady stream of cursing that I knew she was doing.

As I got closer, she stood back up, then turned around to reenter the car, I assumed, then saw me. Suddenly, she had a small pistol pointing in my direction. I stopped as she shouted, "Who the hell are you?"

I held my hands up and said, "Easy, Ma'am. I'm George..." a name made up on the spot. "I'm on my way to work."

She looked at me for a few seconds and the pistol disappeared. "Sorry. You just surprised me. Didn't expect anyone on foot in this shit."

"I don't own a car." I pretended to look at her problem. "A flat, huh." I looked around. "Do you have a spare?"



"I think so."

I looked up and down the road, the visibility was probably fifty feet. "Ma'am. We need to get your car off the road before we try to fix it. One of those pickup cowboys is liable to lead foot through here with a loaded pipe truck and take us all out." That was a worry, for sure, but mainly I didn't want anyone coming along and offering us a ride. "If you want, steer it over to that flat area and I'll try to push."

She got in, put it in gear and with the rear tire flapping, managed to get it off the road. I noticed another person in the car. That might be interesting, but a matter for later. I opened the back, located the jack and managed to get it under the axle by pushing the snow away with my foot. Shortly, the wheel was off the snow and I picked up the lug wrench. It was one of those stupid bent single socket models, rather than a real X-wrench. "I'll need some help with breaking the lug nuts loose, Ma'am - I have a bum arm."

I needed her to stay out in the cold with me - and her passenger, if I could arrange it. "Maybe your partner could help." She moved to the passenger side door, and barked a command to the girl inside. A fur wrapped form immediately got out of the car. I put the wrench on a nut, then said, "Help me turn this. With three sets of hands on the short handled wrench, we tugged and tugged - well, not exactly. I was pushing in the wrong direction for a few seconds. I didn't want the tire off too quickly - I needed both girls really soaked with the cold. But, eventually, we managed to get it popped loose. Four more of those later, and the tire was on the ground. By now, all of us were shivering badly - in my case, with real snow gear and pockets full of active chemical warmers, it was mostly show. Another car zoomed by, but didn't notice us.

"Let's get inside and warm up a minute." That was gratefully received advice. THey got back in the front seats and I sat in the back.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" the woman exclaimed. "Why people live up here in this goddamned hellish place is beyond me." She had pulled off her gloves and was blowing in her hands. So was her so far silent partner. Inside, it was still chilly. The jeep, while idling in the howling wind, wasn't producing much hot water for the heater.

Suddenly, I exclaimed. "Damn. I'm not thinking in this cold." I fumbled around in my knapsack. "I have some fresh hot coffee in here. Want some?" It was a perfect in. Actually, if I hadn't offered to share, they might have just shot me to get to my thermos. She scrabbled around in her center console and brought out a plastic cup. She held it out and I filled it, then poured the thermos lid full and handed to her partner.

"God, thank you sir" The first words the other woman had spoken since I wandered up. As they savored the hot liquid, I also pretend to drink straight from the thermos.

Shortly, I handed the container to the younger girl and said, "Let me see if I can get the tire on. Don't get out unless I call for help." That was fine with them. I opened the back, taking my time by fumbling around so as to let as much heat escape the cabin as possible to make the hot coffee even more desirable, and took out the spare. Now, with two good hands and out of their sight, I took my time mounting the tire, then spinning the nuts back on. Once they were tight, I walked up to the driver's door and opened it. Both women were collapsed against each other. My man in the big city said that the pills that he gave me, when dissolved in the coffee being brewed, would be enough to put a walrus to sleep. He was right.

An hour later

I had deposited both girls in the sack on the snowmobile, and had taken her car back and parked it in front of her apartment. Stuffer picked me up in his clunker and took me back to my machine. We shook hands, and I cranked up and took off up the road. As usual, even with the storm, the ride along the ersatz road was easy, although fairly slow because of the very limited visibility. The problems began when I turned of onto my rural trail. This part of the territory was fairly flat, with gentle sloping hills and forests. No real landmarks to go by, even if I could have seen them in the snow and dark. By now, I was thanking my lucky stars that I had marked certain points on the trail with the marking tape. The florescent yellow material would really shine in my headlights, even through the blowing snow. I inched from mark to mark.

Hours and hours later, I finally pulled up to my midpoint stash, then managed to shovel enough snow off the lid to be able to pull out three gas cans. By now I was beat and knew that there was no way I could keep this up without some rest. I didn't even bother to hide the stash and left the empty cans on the ground. I would handle that item in the spring when I came by with the truck, assuming that I was still alive then. Up the road at the little cave, I stopped out of visual site of the cliff, pulled the sack containing the girls across the snow and inside, then went back for the rations.

By now the girls were awake, but what their demeanor was, I had no idea. They could have been shouting for hours, but I would have heard nothing through the thick sack and over the storm. They still had their fur clothes on just as when I met them - frisked for weapons, of course - but if it hadn't been for the rescue sack, they would already have been frozen stiff. I opened the sack, and ordered. "Get out."

Madem Arie might have been a sunflower, but a wallflower, she wasn't. There was nothing in her makeup that tended to take shit off of anybody. However, as she crawled out of the sack, her arms and legs barely working, the sight of her environment was enough to dull the edges of the imperious woman. She was followed by her partner, also making a heavy time of moving.

Holding my flashlight on them, I kept my voice loud and commanding. "Don't talk, just listen. You will be spending a few hours here. I suggest that you pee, eat..." - I pointed to the hard rations - "...and then get back in the sack and huddle up." No reply. "If you're lucky, I'll be back for you. If you leave this cave, you will die by freezing to death. It's that simple. What is left of you by the wolves might be found some day." I handed the older woman the flashlight. Without it, they would be in pitch darkness. I doubted that they would know to keep it inside of their clothes when not in use, to keep it from freezing. But, it would last long enough to allow them to eat and settle back in.

With that, I walked back into the storm to the snowmobile. I settled into the seat, pulled a thick blanket from the stash over me, crossed my arms over my chest and closed my eyes. Under the canopy, the cold was still there, but I was totally out of the wind, and my snowsuit and the blanket would easily keep me warm. And I wasn't sleeping next to a pair of women who would love to cut my throat.

Later

I looked at my watch. Four hours. It wasn't nearly enough sleep, but nonetheless, I felt a thousand percent better than when I had crashed. I cracked two chemical warmers and set them in the holders inside of the battery compartment. Then, I pulled another flashlight out of my pants and headed for the cave. Apparently both girls were asleep inside of the sack. I saw no movement as I pulled on the draw ropes to close the opening. They probably woke up as I dragged them across the snow to the machine, but I didn't try to hear anything over the storm. A sack with two cunts was tough to lift onto the snowmobile bed, but I managed it and settled into the seat. By now the chemical packs should have the battery fairly warm - if it wouldn't start the machine, we were dead.

But it did, and once again, we were moving at a snails pace up the road.

Much, much later

I knew we weren't going to make it. Between the crawling speed and the overload of weight, our gas milage was horrible. I had emptied the last can into the tank two hours ago and I knew that we were about to suck air in the fuel line. By now, in the mountains, I was able to travel faster without the fear of getting lost. With a cliff usually on one side and a drop off on the other, the trail was fairly evident. At least I knew exactly where I was.

Sure enough, shortly, the engine missed, caught, then sputtered to a stop. At least four miles from my cabin.

I had already planned what I would do, and sitting here waiting for spring wasn't an option. I immediately climbed out, kneaded a chemical warmer to activate it, opened the sack and dropped it in, then pulled on the ropes to close it. Then I put on my snowshoes and headed up the trail.

By the time I got to my cabin, my legs were about to drop off. I could walk five miles and consider it to be a casual stroll, but walking with tennis rackets attached to your feet causes muscles to come into play that are normally not exercised. Tomorrow, they would really be complaining. But, ignoring the siren call of the warm cavern, I opened the storage shed, located my backboard and a roped a five gallon can of gasoline to it. Then, having shucked off my snowshoes, I belted on my skis, grabbed the two poles and was cruising down the trail, far, far faster than I had climbed it.

In no time I was back at the snowmobile, had emptied the gas into the tank, and was roaring back to the welcome embrace of my home.

Inside of a wonderfully warm cavern

I wasn't about to try to drag a sack full of women up some steps, and down a long rock floored tunnel, so I opened the sack and ordered them out. They had no choice but to follow me in hopes of finding someplace warm. The snowfall up here was much less, but the wind was even colder and more brutal. If I didn't get them inside in short order, frostbite would be their next problem. So shortly, we were through the cabin and in the access tunnel. I could see a glow at the end of it from a light that was on in the living area.

Millie had apparently heard the far door close. As I exited the tunnel she was waiting, a happy grin on her face. I could see Mary laying on her mat across the floor, apparently asleep.

Suddenly, looking over my shoulder, she let out an exclamation, then asked. "TWO more?" I nodded. She looked closer. "Women?"

I nodded again, not surprised that the fact wasn't obvious as to the sex of my captives. In their bulky and rumpled parkas, they could have passed for almost anybody.

While they were still half frozen, muscles barely working, and stunned by their adventures since leaving the Peacock, I needed to get them secured so I could shower and rest. "Wake Mary up. She can sleep at the foot of our bed from now on. I'll bring another mat in here." I started getting out of my clothes - my two captives might have been half frozen, but I had been working my ass off for for the last couple of hours and I was plenty warm. In fact, I was sweating under my clothes - an absolute no-no up here. You can die from sweat soaked clothing in short order. Of course, I wouldn't have allowed the condition without knowing that I was in close range of a shelter.

Mary was awake by now, and shortly had moved out of the way. I wondered what she would think when she recognized her two new roommates. I towed my captives over to Mary's original mat and pushed them over on their butts so that they were sitting. At the moment I only had the one chain laying across the floor, still there from Mary's confinement, but that was ok for now. Before their tired minds could decipher what was happening, I wrapped the end of the chain around Arie's waist and closed it with a quick link. Then about ten feet further down, pulled it around the other girls waist and fastened it with another quick link. Unlike a connection to their ankles, this would allow them to take their clothes off - a necessity shortly, as they began to warm up. Connected together like this, they would have to pee and shower together, but that was a minor problem. Tomorrow - late tomorrow - I would make the arrangements more permanent.

Then I began my standard spiel. Pointing, I said, "In there is a shower. Lots of hot water. As soon as I get out it's all yours. After that, you sleep on this mat for tonight and you will keep quiet so I can sleep. If you want to make trouble, you get thrown outside. You remember what that's like?"

An empty threat, of course, but I didn't want their inevitable reaction to start tonight. Tomorrow was soon enough for fun and games.

I shucked off my clothes, threw them to Mary to handle, then headed to the shower. God, the stream of warm water was almost orgasmic in itself. I began to realize that I was lucky to be alive. If I did this again, the next time some more attention would have to be given to the severity of the weather report.

I walked out of the bathroom, glowing a healthy pink from the hot water that I had luxuriated in for fifteen minutes. Millie was waiting by the bed, knowing full well what I wanted. I turned off all but the night light and stretched out on the bed. The light in the bathroom was still on and I could hear chain dragging and assumed that both of my new captives were beginning to stir. No matter, Millie ooched up next to me, then bent over and swallowed my dong and began her oral workout. I held and massaged her dangling tits as the erotic feeling grew, but it had been too many days since I had any tail, and finesse wasn't what I was wanting tonight. Shortly, I pulled on her knockers and she gave one more slurp for lube, then straddled my waist. Holding my dick vertically, she slowly impaled herself and began the stroke. All too soon, I was shooting up into her, then just collapsed in place and fell asleep.

Morning

Sure enough, once the madam's body thawed, and she got her senses back, the threats started. Demands to have the chain removed, to be taken back to town, what was going to happen to me if I didn't - even Millie got her share of threats.

I ignored them for now. I needed to get the snowmobile pickled for the cold in case it was needed again. The complex's battery was low, so I started the genset to get it charging.

Mary was the cook now, so I had her make some breakfast and deliver it to my captives. Later, she informed me that her ex-madam had tried to make a deal with her. Then started up with the threats again when my girl didn't bite. It was going to be fun to teach her some manners. I had to remind myself that the reason she was here was for information, not entertainment. Mary informed me that the other girl - one Debra by name - had been in on the scheme also. That was a relief. I had been worried about what to do with an innocent girl. Problem solved.

Later

"Both of you. Take your clothes off - all of them." Both of them had shucked off their bulky cold wear, but were still wearing inside garments. A minidress in the case of Debra, and a pants suit for madam Arie. I was standing beside the mat with Mary behind me holding several items I was going to use. Millie was just watching. All three of us were buck naked - our usual attire in the complex. The madam wasn't cooperating - that was evident in about a quarter second.

"You can kiss my ass, you cocksucker," she hissed back through clenched teeth. I now had the bullwhip, but was hesitant to use it at the moment. At my level of expertise, I was afraid that I might put out an eye, or cause major damage - or just plain miss and come across as more of a joke than a dominate figure. So, I fell back on my usual routine when confronting a problem - violence. I stepped toward her and she bared her claws in preparation to scratching my eyes out.

I had grown up on the frontier. My younger life was filled with the usual melee of fistfights and brawls in a town where tussling among the young bucks was not only tolerated, but expected. In addition, I had had a few encounters with wildlife, including one with a grizzly that only fell down after the third point blank shot from a .44 magnum, but not before ripping the front of my coat to shreds along with some of my skin. I didn't consider a rabid human female to be that big of a problem.

"OOOOFFFFFFF," she whooshed as the air came out of her lungs when my fist entered her sternum. Then a rabbit chop to the back of her bent-over neck - pulled, of course. I certainly didn't want to break her neck - and she dropped onto the mat like a lump of bear skat. Her partner looked at me with frightened eyes and was trying to back up. The ten feet of chain between them halted her rear movement as fast as it began.

I pulled the whip off of my belt, and with a flick of my wrist, laid it across the floor like I had practiced. Fortunately, it worked like it was supposed to, with a satisfying crack. I then pointed to the standing girl and barked, "Clothes off. NOW!" This time, there was no hesitation. She began to struggle to pull the skirt part of her dress up her waist, under the chain that encircled the narrow part of her body. Shortly it was over her head and off,then the the panties and bra followed. Nice. Really nice, but that was a given. Obviously a whorehouse wasn't going to employ a skank to hustle hardlegs.

I pointed to her ex-boss, still gasping on the mat, trying desperately to get some air into her lungs. "Strip her!" Fearfully, but instantly the girl dropped to her knees and began to pull her madam's pants off. The cloth belt prevented much movement until I knelt down and cut it with my knife. Then they slid off. I then cut both sleeves of her blouse to the neck opening, then all the way down the back. Now all the girl had to do was pull the remnants of cloth from under her body. Three quick cuts later and the bra was ready to remove. Then the panties. Now I had two naked cunts ready for questioning. Almost.

I motioned to Millie to hand me a set of wrist manacles. I quickly put them on the madam, then waved for Debra to approach me. "Hold out your wrists." By now her legs would barely hold her up, but she did as ordered. Another set of binders went on. "Kneel here." This was in front of her boss. Now I connected the center link of both girl's binders together with another quick link, then stood up and pulled the ceiling rope down. This was quickly attached to the new link. I motioned to Mary and she moved over to the wall and pulled the slack out of the rope.

"Stand up, bitch!" Arie was finally coming back to the world, but was making a heavy time of it. She managed to lift herself to her hands and knees but that was as far as she could get at the moment. I was in no rush. Plenty of time to let her get her senses back before the fun... questioning began.

In a short while, I decided that Arie had rested long enough. I moved over to the bitter end of the rope and began to pull. Both women rose to their knees, then their feet as their wrists were pulled up. Finally they were standing up at full stretch, although they weren't suspended and their feet could still stand flat on the mat. One more thing. With another piece of rope, I made three loops around their waists and tied it snug. Then I removed the chain around their waists and dropped it on the floor. Now they were standing, tit to tit, stomach to stomach, and held together by the waist rope.

Now for me. To Mary, I said, "Over to the bed. See how fast you can empty my nuts." I wanted to make sure that my coming episode with the two conniving cunts wasn't whipsawed by the distraction of my newly formed appreciation of B&D. Yes, I was starting to learn the terms of this offshoot of sexual activity. Of course, the four magazines that I had also picked up in the big city were a great help in the matter.

She lightly ran to the big bed and pulled the thick blanket over the sheets. We used it during sex to keep from getting the bed all sweaty. And sticky. She stood beside it waiting for me to indicate how I wanted it. I doubled up the pillow for my head, then lay on my back, ready for action. She immediately straddled my knees and leaned over to swallow my throbbing hard. Her term for the action was 'deep throating.' I have no idea where she got the name, but it consisted of her swallowing my not insignificant dong all the way down her throat. Obviously, some time in her younger past, she had conquered the gag reflex. The first time I saw it, I had watched goggled eyed. I still watched with admiration - in fact, the sight made my erotic pressures rise as fast as the actual feeling of suction did.

Millie had come over to watch, as she usually did when I was screwing the newer girl. Sometimes she took part, feeling and pulling this and that.

Mary wasn't some teeny bobber with the idea that sex was just moving a rod in and out of her crack. She was an accomplished artist with techniques learned from several years as a hooker. Since I had indicated that I wanted a slam-bam session, she got right down to it. As her mouth concentrated on its task, the finger of one hand was riming my asshole, and a finger was probing my prostate. The other hand was constantly cupping and stretching my ball sac. In no time at all, I erupted into her mouth, she gripped my rod and jacked it up and down rapidly to finish the orgasm, then I put my hand on her head to stop and just splayed back into the bed.

No way was this little girl ever getting turned loose.

Interrogation

I walked around my strung up pair, their necks turning to try to follow my movements. Despite the fact that Mary had just unloaded me, I still had a hard on just looking. Remember, I told myself, the idea is to get info, not play B&D - time enough for that later. The older woman was holding her words in - apparently it finally dawned on her that she wasn't in charge - not even close.

Finally, I spoke up. "Here's the deal. I'm going to ask some questions. If you answer in full and correctly, I will turn you loose to go back to town. You have my word on it. But, just to set the mood, I want you to know what will happen if you decide not to cooperate." I wondered how well this was going to work. I had practiced it a few times back in the warehouse. I stepped back, measured my distance and jerked my arm back to lay the big whip on the floor behind me. I knew that I couldn't use a wrist stroke where the end of the leather cracked - that would definitely tear into the women's' skin. I twisted my body and quickly brought my arm around in a flat stroke, kind of like a sideways, straight arm baseball pitch.

The results were more than spectacular. The braided leather hit Arie's back about half way down the tail. The far end continued its journey, wrapping around her side under the arm, then around the back of the younger girl. It went under the other arms and was circling the girls again when it ran out of length and the tip impacted on the rib cage of Debra. The loud 'thwack' was immediately replaced by Debra's high pitched shriek. Her madam didn't scream, but gave out with a loud "SHIIIIIIT!"

I let that feeling sink in for a few seconds, the asked, "Get the idea? Want another one?"

Debra immediately howled, "NO NO NO WHAT DO YOU WANT I'LL DO IT PLEASE NOT AGAIN..."

I looked at Arie and she responded with a shout in Debra's face, "Shut up, bitch." Then to me, "What do you want? Why are you doing this? I haven't done anything to you."

That gave me an opening. "Remember last summer? I was in your cunt house enjoying a piece of that..." - I jerked my thumb over at Mary, watching the proceedings wide eyed. I continued, "I woke up in the emergency room after some one found me on a pile of snow." I put my forefinger under my very visible knife scar. "That's where the knife of your partner went in."

Now, her eyes were even wider than Mary's. It probably had just dawned on her that this wasn't a kidnapping for rape, but that she was probably in deep shit with a guy she had tried to help rob and kill. She started with a, "I didn't have..." She stopped when I whacked her back with the whip handle - hard.

"Don't start with the lies unless you want your skin peeled off! Remember, I was there and looking into your face just before your man stuck me. And even half drugged, I can recognize a cunt when she was standing two feet away." Something was trying to rise up in the back of my mind, but I pressed on. "You are now going to tell me about everything and everybody or you die standing up with your skin on fire." A bluff - I might knife the murderous bitch in a clean and quick kill, but I wouldn't whip a girl to death. I moved to the other side of the pair so that the end of the whip would hit the other girl. I wiggled the handle of the rawhide tool, then whipped it to lay ready on the floor behind me.

Another stroke and this time, two shrieks. I stepped up behind Debra and examined the bright red stripes across her back. They were definitely welts, but no blood had been drawn. That was good. I didn't need damaged goods up here. I wasn't a doctor.

Again, a stroke - harder this time. Both broke down and just started babbling for mercy, for the chance to talk, for me to stop so they could do anything I want...

Shit! The idea that was fermenting suddenly popped up in full glory. I had wondered what to do with the two bitches when I got their information. Now I knew. Holy shit, what an idea!

Another stroke just for good measure. "STOP OH GOD PLEASE STOP."

"Ok. Good." I made a presentation of setting the whip down, then pulled up a chair beside them and sat. "Now, lets start with when the Peacock opened and who opened it...

The next day

For most of the day, I asked more questions of the girls, mainly the same ones but in different formats and contexts. I was trying to detect any falsehoods that I might have been told. I definitely didn't want to lower the hammer on some innocent dude because of a lie. But, eventually, I was satisfied that I had most of the story. And a pretty sordid story it was.

"Ok. You've told me enough for me to find the sobs. I promised to turn you loose." I turned around and called to Millie. "Bring one of my shirts." The older woman's blouse had been cut off and was now just rags, so she could wear one of mine. I unlocked the chain from both of them and Mary handed my shirt to Arie. I then ordered, "Both of you, get dressed, but not in your parkas yet. You need to eat before you go."

Mary whomped up a pressure cooker of soup - delicious - and all of us ate our fill. Then I told the tow girls to put on their cold weather gear. I pulled mine out of the trunk and began to dress also.

Arie had gotten some of her spunk back. I could see the concern? disbelief? on her face. I asked, seemingly concerned, "You got a problem with leaving?"

She hesitated, not wanting to get a taste of the bull whip again, but finally said, "You're really going to let us go? You don't care if we go back to... to... our jobs."

"You mean, why would I turn you loose to let you squeal on me?" I snorted my derision. "Who are you going to tell? Your boss? Hey boss, the stiff that we failed to kill, kidnapped us and made us tell him all about you and your organization." I pulled on my boots. "The cops? This guy up north that we robbed and tried to murder, kidnapped us and made us confess."

I stood up. "If you want to live, or even stay out of a very cold prison, I suggest that you make up a story that both of you went to the big city for a good time. Or got stuck by the storm at some out of town party."

Shortly, bundled up for the cold, I led the girls down the entrance tunnel and into the cabin. It was still dark, of course. Daylight, this time of year was very short and never got much more than twilight. With the storm, it didn't even reach that level. At the moment, it was just fading back into night. The cabin was bitter cold - far below zero - but compared to the howling hell that was outside, it was practically tropical. They stood, waiting, looking at the window with the flurries bouncing off the glass. I guess they expected me to go out and get the snowmobile ready for the return trip. They were in for a shock.

I faced them and pointed south. "The town is that way, a couple of hundred miles. Goodbye." Before they could react, I turned, entered the tunnel and closed the door behind me. As I flipped the lock, and turned to walk back in the cavern, I could hear them screaming something - I couldn't quite make out the words, but I wasn't worried about it.

I settled into my favorite rocker, picked up the book I had been wanting to read all month, and accepted the beer that Millie brought to me. As I put on a record - with the volume turned up - I said, "I sure hope the wolves don't get them."

A couple of hours later

The stack of records had run out. I stood up and stretched, yawned and looked over at Millie and Mary, both already in my bed and waiting. Mary was still looking at me, still not believing that I had sent the girls to certain death in the weather outside. Millie knew better - I had let her in on the plan. I pretended listen for a second and asked, "Mary, do you hear something banging?"

She nodded rapidly. "Yes, sir. It's the girls. They want back in." In her face, I could see the plea to open the door.

Of course, now, with the music off, the tapping was unmistakable. There was no way that I was going up the tunnel into the cabin in my birthday suit, so I slipped on some pants, a sweater and some lined boots. They had been out in the cabin for two hours, close to the limit for the sunflower parkas that they were wearing. Of course, if they had actually gone outside, they would have already been dead.

Shortly, I was at the door. I could hear a voice, now very weak, pleading for something. The words didn't quite come through. I unlocked the door and opened it a few inches. "What do you want?" I demanded in a loud voice. It had to be loud - if anything, the wind outside was even stronger than it had been earlier. "I told you that you were free to go."

Both girls were shaking uncontrollably and Debra held out her hands and pleaded, "P...p...please l..let us i...in. You... you k...know we will fre... freeze to death out here." Surprisingly, Arie just shook like a palsy victim. She didn't even have the strength to plead.

"I don't need two more cunts in here. It would take too much to feed you." Now, she actually fell down on her knees and cried between more unintelligible pleas. Even Arie tried to get out the word, "Please..."

"Jeez. I'm freezing my balls off out here. Come in here a minute." I opened the door wider and both of them scrambled into the tunnel. The end next to the cabin was always cool, but compared to what they had just come out of, it was a sauna.

Finally, Arie found the strength to speak through chattering teeth. "Y...you know we will d...die out there."

All pretense aside now, I replied, "Of course. You are supposed to. But I kept my word and set you free." They were shaking so violently that it almost made me start shivering. "I don't need two guests. If you stay here you stay on my terms. Understand?" Both nodded violently. Of course, to be let in, they would have made a pact with the devil for anything he wanted. "If I want you to work in the mine, you will pick up a hammer and start banging. If I want to fuck you, the next thing you do is lay on your back and spread your legs. If I want to string you up and whip the shit out of you just for the pleasure of hearing you scream, you'll hold out your wrists to be tied." Keerist! Where the hell did that come from? Maybe I needed to lay off my new porno mags for a while. "Screw up and outside you go, permanently."

I waited. "Well?!"

Sobbing, Debra just repeated, "Yes. Yes. Yes." Arie just nodded, almost falling down. Damn, I may have left them outside too long. I hoped neither had frostbite.

"Ok. Come with me."

As we entered the cavern, Mary jumped off the bed with an exclamation of joy. I pointed to the pair of half dead females and said, "Get their clothes off and give them both a heavy blanket and put them on their mat. When they get warmed up, take them in and give them a hot shower." She nodded and ran to the linen closet.

Meanwhile, I procured another chain from the spool in the warehouse and attached it to the same eyebolt as the other. When they came out of the shower, pink and naked, I put a manacle around one ankle of each girl, then attached it to a chain. That would be their sleeping quarters for a while.

I lay down on the bed, with Millie beside me just toying with my body. I hadn't yet indicated whether or not I wanted tail. For now, I was just thinking about the future. And the the last year or so. Before my Uncle had showed up at my apartment, I was just a young stud in a go-nowhere job, with no prospects for more, the only girls I ever had needed to be stroked with money before putting out, and now... I had inherited a very unusual and practical "home" and a gold mine - not El Dorado, by any means, but unless it ran out, it would supply me with a living. I had money on the shelf, gold dust in a can, a young squeeze to keep my nuts company, and now... three more cunts to do with as I pleased. Of course, there was still a number of dudes a couple of hundred miles south that I needed to kill, but for now, I was a rich man in more ways than just money. Tomorrow, I would start training my new work force in the art of gold mining.

The Mine Shaft

As miners, the girls sucked a big one. At least so far. I doubt that any of them had ever used any machinery except for an automobile and kitchen appliances. At first, I thought they were faking when they couldn't get something to work, but eventually I realized that they actually had no skills with machinery. A girl would squeeze the trigger of of the hammer drill and nothing would happen. Any young boy tinkering with it would have instantly realized the problem, but my ersatz miner would stand there helplessly squeezing over and over and not realize that someone had turned the air valve off.

At the start, it would usually take several days for them to finish the blasting holes. Then a day or so of mucking the broken rock to the crusher. Then about two days to crush and pan. Then start all over. When they learned their jobs, I would split them up into the different areas, but for now, I had them work together.

They hated it. It was messy with the constant spray of water to keep the dust down and the resultant mud on the floor and walls would soon migrate to their hair and bodies, sometimes making them look like those jungle primitives that coat themselves with mud for whatever reason. However, they soon learned that they hated the work less than the whip - which I didn't hesitate to use.

They would take turns with the drill - it wasn't difficult work, since all they had to do was expand the braces against the wall, aim at the marks that I made on the rock face, then just turn a crank to feed the bit into the rock. It didn't take long for them to be able to tell the correct speed from the sound.

When enough drill holes were finished, I would do the explosives loading and preparing. That is what they looked forward to, since work would stop until after the blasting and sufficient time to allow for the fumes and dust to clear. Usually, it meant that work was over for the day.

It was after that clearing period that they really weren't looking forward to. They would have to muck the rock into the little railroad cart, then push it along the rails to the crusher room and dump it.

It was here that they were most afraid. The crusher itself was fairly primitive - a fact of the shortage of power in my homestead. Surprisingly, it wasn't built by my Uncle or his forbearers. The thing was actually used a century ago by miners in their small claims. It was fairly simple, but did the job with almost nothing to break. Every few years the seals in the hydraulics would have to be replaced, but other than that, it was fairly indestructible.

The base was just a huge round cylinder of steel. A very heavy stamper cylinder was on top of the base, and rode two guide rails up and down. A lever made the stamper slowly rise under the impulse of a hydraulic pump. Then a shovel full of rock was piled onto the base and a foot pedal caused the stamper to release. With tons of force, it impacted and pulverized the rock and sand. A lip around the stamper cylinder kept the pieces from shooting out like shrapnel, but even so, the machine was terrifying to the girls for the first few days. Once the stamper slowly raised again, the power would be scooped into the waiting placer trough, or sluice box, the water would be turned on and the lighter gangue material would be washed away, hopefully leaving a color of gold. The water and waste material disappeared into a two inch pipe at a steep slant and eventually cascaded down the mountainside. Unless, it was the dead of winter, then it froze before it even began to fall, piling up far below.

For the first week or so, they barely produced enough color to make a wedding band, but I had hopes for better production as time went on. One result was that, when the girls got off a working shift, muck covered and looking like troglodytes, they had no energy left to complain. Millie would have a good meal ready when they got out of the shower, then, after eating, they would just collapse on their mats. Unless, of course, Millie and I needed one or more of them for entertainment.

A couple of weeks before

Millie, Mary and I were up long before the new girls. After the events of the previous day, the overriding exhaustion had laid them completely out. First, they had spent a couple of hours in the sub zero temperature of the outside cabin. Then they were "rescued" and brought into a fairly warm living space to thaw out, and then were allowed what had to be a heavenly period under a cascade of hot water in the shower. That didn't even take into account the kidnapping that they had been subjected to, followed by a ride inside of a heavy sack for hours on end.

Anyway, by the time they were towed out to their sleeping mat, they were limp rags that barely even noticed as the ankle manacles and chains were attached.

This morning, I let them sleep in until Mary had breakfast fixed, then walked over and pushed on the older woman, Arie, with a foot. Then her partner, Debra. "Hey! Lazy girls!" They woke, still groggy, and slowly remembered where they were. "This isn't your soft cunt house, where you can just decide to stay in bed after a hard day of growing hards. Get to your knees!"

Debra wasn't going to be a problem. She was an uneducated female - something I found out later - who would never question an authority figure, especially one holding a riding crop. But, her former boss, Arie, wasn't a wallflower. She was a woman with a steel will and had always been used to getting her way. Woe unto the female employee who riled her. Even a man would want to be careful about triggering her temper. I needed to shortstop that attitude immediately.

She put a hand down, rolled over and started to get to her feet. I let her have one high up on the back of the shoulder. She dropped back to the mat on her hands and knees with a "Shit! What's wrong with you?!"

"What part of 'get to your knees' did you not understand?" Her partner immediately got into the ordered position, fearfully looking at the weapon in my hand. Arie did also, but not willingly and not exactly quickly.

"Look, Mister." she started. "I know you think that something was done to you in my house, but you don't realize just who you have fucked with." Well, maybe I hadn't thought it though. I waited for her explanation of the trouble I was in. It came quickly. "When the boss learns how you've interfered with his operation, he'll destroy this place and everyone in it. Including us, probably, if I can't convince him that you are just a kid that didn't know what he was messing with." I just looked at her and waited for her to impart more information.

She was encouraged by my interest and continued, "You're a nice boy. I'll talk to the boss and tell him that you made a mistake. I have some pull with him and I can get you out of this."

I nodded. As an offer of reconciliation, it wasn't too bad. It was a pack of lies, but it was delivered fairly well. I waved to my other two girls to begin the prearranged plan. They both approached us as I smiled at my two kneeling future employees. "Stand up," I said, pleasantly as Millie and Mary stopped beside me. Arie had just gotten to her feet as I stepped to her side, took an arm and shoved it up behind her back, then pushed her over to the rock wall. As I had ordered, Mary grabbed her other arm and raised it over her head as Millie enclosed the wrist with the manacle hanging by the short chain from the bolt in the rock. Then both moved to the other side as I pulled the twisted arm up and in range of the other manacle.

Shortly, the stunned woman was stretched up against the wall in the X arrangement - arms widely spread and over her head and legs spread wide with ankle chains. I moved up to one side, grabbed a fist full of hair - not gently - and turned her face to look at mine. "I doubt that you will ever see your old boss again, but just in case you do, tell him that I intend to nail his balls to that headboard over there to remind me of the fun I had when I carved him up and left his carcass to the wolves."

I stepped back and took the offered lash from Millie. Taking a proper stance, I swung my arm in a vicious circle that ended when the flat leather cracked across her back. She jumped like she had been electrocuted, and screamed "SHIIITTT!" Apparently, that was her favorite word. Then, with about ten seconds between the blows, I put the leather to her for several minutes. She screamed at the top of her lungs - actually, curse words at the beginning which evolved into pleas to stop the punishment. Eventually, her voice gave out and she just babbled. This wasn't play, like Millie wanted every few weeks. The lash didn't cut into her skin, but the first bright red traces were already beginning to develop into small blood blisters under the skin. Eventually I stopped, the woman just hanging by her wrists with the muscles in her thighs and legs visible jumping from the reaction.

"Take her down," I ordered. I walked over to her associate, now trembling with fear so violently that she had to put her hands on her knees to keep from falling over on her face. Harshly as I could form the words, I demanded, "You got any problem following my orders from now on?"

She shook her head so violently that her cheeks slapped. "Nooo, Sir! No! I'll do anything you want. Please! Anything!" I just nodded and turned away and she almost collapsed from reaction.

Arie had been unhooked from the wall and was being held up by the two girls. "Stretch her out on the floor over here. Face down." They towed her over to an area near the mats, that had some more bolts sticking up out of the rock floor. Millie now knew what to do. She had been in the position several times, although, in her case, with a rug under her. She picked up some pieces of rope from a shelf, then tied one around each ankle and wrist. The other end of the ropes went to the eyebolts in the floor. Now, the woman was X'ed out again, but on her face on the hard rock floor. Well, she had plenty of fat for cushion.

"Tighter." Millie undid the ankle ropes at the eyebolts, then pulled as hard as she could and tied them back. Now the older woman was only X'ed out, but was tightly stretched as if she were in a medieval rack.

I walked around and squatted down in front of her, reached down and pulled her head up by the hair - again. She was still feeling the stripes on her back, and would for a day or so, but by now her eyes could focus. "Listen really good, bitch," I started. "Your days of herding cunt are over. As far as you are concerned, anybody who might help you out of here is the equivalent of a million miles away. Your only career now, is to please me and hope that I'm satisfied with your performance. Otherwise, you go right back up on the wall. And if I have to, I'll use a bull whip, not the little toy that you just got."

I dropped her head, stood up and walked over to Mary. "Lube it up. I'm going to try her from behind."

Mary slurped my hard rod more than necessary to get it slick, then I knelt on my knees between Arie's spread wide legs. Millie, suddenly realizing what I was up to, knelt also and took hold of my dick to guide it to the proper place. Letting my woman do the aiming, I just slowly settled onto the prone woman's butt, my rod easily going up her rear shaft without hindrance.

Naturally, there was no resistance. I had absolutely no idea about Arie's past, but I knew that she couldn't have been a Madam all her life. Sometime in her younger days, she had to have started like any other cunthouse boss - that is, laying on a bed with her legs spread like all the other whores. My dick would have been only the last of hundreds, or thousands, that trod this path. A woman of this type had her asshole trained to give automatically when something tried to enter.

It was good. Not only the rubbing in and out, but the feeling of power over a woman who had been instrumental in almost snuffing me for money. Taking my time, I gave her a really good creamy enema, then walked over to the sofa to relaxe while Mary cleaned me up with a hot rag. Sitting there thinking, not only of my future plans, but what had happened in the past. I now realized that bondage and disciple wasn't a game with me. It was becoming a really powerful addiction.

The mine shaft

Standing there looking at the three women lined up and facing me, I reminded myself, once again, to never turn back on them when they were free to move about. I didn't worry about Mary or Debra, but I could easily believe that Arie would cave my skull in with a drill bit if she had the chance. It would probably mean her slow death, since none of them knew where they were or how to get back to civilization, but the heat of the moment might override such future considerations.

They were totally naked, of course, except for wearing pseudo footware composed of leather wrapped around their feet and tied at their ankles. Even my hardened feet couldn't take walking on the shards of rock on the floor. Someday, I would buy a case of flip-flops for them, although that item isn't something that is normally found in a northern Alaskan trading post. They would have to be ordered from the lower 49.

"Ok, cunts. This is where I get the gold and you get the shaft." They didn't laugh at my joke. Possibly, being a naked woman prisoner, in some underground tunnel, at the far end of the world might suppress any tendency for mirth.

Joke over, I went on. "Today, we learn to drill." I waved at the - to them - mysterious gear at the end of the shaft. "Now, I like to motivate my employees, so..." I was really enjoying this. "...here's the deal. The girl who learns best, today, gets to sleep in my bed and get fucked by me and my squeeze tonight. The cunt who does second best, gets stretched out on the rock floor for the night. And the bitch who really disappoints me gets strung up on the wall and striped. And gets to hang there all night to sleep."

That motivational speech didn't seem to raise their morale any. Oh well... I pointed. "See the red paint spots on the face of the wall? Those are the places where you will aim the bit." I laid my hand on the single jack. "This is the drill." I spent the next hour going though the procedures of bracing the mechanism against the floor and walls, aiming it and locking it into place. I had them do it over and over and by lunch they could do it - not well, by any means, but at least good enough for it to work. By the time that Millie appeared, towing a little wagon with our food, we were ready to crank it up.

After the very good meal, I went through the steps to start the process. First the air valve to the rotary drill was turned on, then I had Debra turn the valve for the water. Immediately, a spray of warm water enveloped the end of the borer and several feet all around the aim point. This was for the very important reason of keeping the massive dust cloud that would otherwise develop, under control - a cloud that would immediately envelope the entire end of the shaft, and more damagingly, our lungs. Mining history going back thousands of years proved that Silicosis was a miner's disease that was always fatal. I knew that, but Uncle emphasized it with a, "Junior, if the water ain't working, then you ain't either."

I reached down and opened the louver further on the end of the foot wide flexible pipe that led off into the darkness behind us. Without the continual supply of freezing outside cold air, this shaft would be totally unworkable. When the air was shut off, the temperature rose to over a hundred and ten degrees - deadly.

All of them flinched from the water, although it was as warm as taking a shower. I ignored that, since I knew they would be soaked and muddy in short order, no matter what they tried to avoid. I pointed to Arie, and then to the drill handle and trigger. She hesitatingly stepped up and took the hand wheel in one hand and the pistol grip in the other. I nodded and she squeezed the trigger.

She jumped back, the drill immediately grinding to a stop without ever touching the wall. The drill wasn't deafening, but it made some noise, even spinning away from the rock. But, her natural woman reaction to moving equipment had taken over. I pointed again, and she started over. This time, she held on and then began to turn the hand wheel to feed the bit into the rock. Several turns later, the spinning bit touched the rock and the hammer action began, raising the noise level considerably. She continued to spin the wheel very slowly, and I spun a finger around to sign to her to increase the feed speed a little. I knew that it would take several days to get the feel of the proper speed - both by the sound of the bit hammering and the laboring of the air powered drill motor.

She did very well, except for forgetting to turn off the water when she had reached the limit of the drill depth. I pointed to the valve and made a slashing motion and she immediately turned it off. Shortly the drill was screwed back out, and was ready to move to the next hole. The setup began all over again. By now the sump was full and the sump pump was turned on to push the waste water and tailings out of the tunnel and down the mountainside.

End of shift.

The girls were exhausted. And looking like creatures from an old science fiction movie. They were covered - and I mean, head to foot - in light brown mud which was actually the watered down dust from the drilling process. Their hair was matted solid and their faces had a coat of makeup that would have put a woman's spa to shame. Only their eyes and mouths broke up the facial masks. Both Arie and Debra still had their pubic hair - that would come off the first time that a day came along that they weren't working. Right now it was just as mud packed and matted as their hair on their heads.

The amusing thought struck me that it was a good thing that womens' twats remained closed when they weren't being fucked. Otherwise, those holes would have been full of mud, also.

I motioned them over to stand in the tailing sump, now mostly drained, but still with a couple of inches of water in it. I picked up a hose and aimed a gentle spray of water over their bodies, motioning them to turn slowly around and raise their arms over their heads. I wasn't trying to get them bedtime clean - just hosing off most of the muck so that it wasn't tracked into my living cavern.

Without a doubt, Arie was the best mining student of the three, by far. In thirty minutes she had the techniques down and, while a long way from a professional rock biter, could probably have run the gear without my being there. She would eventually be my straw boss.

Debra, did ok, but still had a fear of unknown and scary machinery. But...

...Mary was a disaster. She would forget to turn on the water, forget which way to turn the hand wheel, look around in confusion when the drill wouldn't feed any more, without realizing that she had finished the hole and the machine had hit the stops. The first time, she didn't clamp the struts properly, so the drill just moved backwards into the shaft rather than into the hole. I wasn't sure that she would ever be to a point that she could be turned loose with it.

Shutting down the gear and turning off the lights, I led us by flashlight back to the big metal door that blocked off all the dirt and noise from my living space.

Millie had a man sized meal ready for three pseudo men and I sent them to the showers before we sat down to eat. Afterwards, I locked them back to their individual chains with the ankle bracelets and retired with Millie to my living area. My day had been easy, and I was relaxed. We turned on the radio and I told her to be sure and listen for the weather report. I didn't plan to go back to town till summer, but with five people in a place that was supplied for two, I would have to get on the road with the truck as soon as the spring melt slowed down. I blessed my Uncle's advice of stocking far more supplies than were actually needed. We would get along ok. Plenty of food, although the goodies might run low, like sugar and syrup and suchlike.

My uncle had subscribed to a plethora of magazines. They were held at the post office by old man MacKensie, the town postal clerk, and were hauled back to the cavern in huge bundles. I had renewed the subscriptions. Tonight, I relaxed with a copy of a popular science magazine. I was interested in this new system of playing movies from some kind of tape machine. This summer, when I went to town, I would look into buying such a device, along with a TV, and, hopefully, a supply of movies.

Millie loved to read and she had piles of those sickeningly sweet love novels. I would pick up another box full when I went to town.

I sat back with my magazine and some music. What a day.

Bedtime

Mary was terrified. She knew that she had fucked up all day and was dreading my threatened punishment. When I walked over to her and pulled her to her feet, she broke down and bawled for mercy. She was thinking of the terrific lashing that I gave her ex-Madam - one that didn't quite cut her skin, but raised blood blisters for days. What she didn't know, was that I had no intention of punishing her anywhere near that severely. But I couldn't let her off. My authority depended on the girls knowing that I would punish them when and if needed.

She was still wailing as I chained her up, then walked over to pick up the same lash that I used on Arie. Looking over her shoulder and seeing me coming, she screamed for mercy at the top of her lungs. I walked up to her and pulled her head around by her hair, gently this time. She cried, "Pleeeease! Don't hurt me! I'll try my best tomorrow. I really will!"

I nodded and replied. "I know you will, Mary. But you have to take the punishment coming to you. That's only fair."

I stepped back and she began to wail for mercy again. I stopped at the proper distance, aimed and put the lash across her back - with far less force that I had used with the older woman, and not even the strength that I used when punishing Millie. Nonetheless, she screamed as it thwacked across her skin. Actually, her fear was far more than the actual pain and if she hadn't been panicking, she would have realized that. I gave her a total of ten, then left her in the chains.

Millie had laid down a rug between the floor eyebolts. I pointed to Debra then to the rug. Eyes down, she scampered over to it and laid down on her stomach. "No," I said. "Turn over." She did and I watched as Millie put more bracelets on her other three limbs, then tied them off with ropes. Not stretched tight, but definitely spread in a horizontal X, just as Mary was X'ed out in a vertical stance.

For Arie, I put a pair of manacles on her wrists, wrapped a light chain around her waist, then attached her wrists together and then to the chain. Now she could lay comfortably on her back, but couldn't lift, lower or spread her arms more than a few inches. The reason for this, of course, was because she would be in our bed and I didn't want to wake up with her trying to twist my head off. I removed the ankle chain, then pointed across the floor to the king sized bed.

She was waiting when Millie and I got out of the bathroom and shut off the main lights.

In the dim night light coming from the bathroom, both girls were barely visible shadows. "Lay down," I said to Millie. To Arie, I said, "You're going to do her first and she likes lots of tongue. I knew that girl on girl action was old hat to these females. Whether they enjoyed it for the act, or just did it on occasion for the customers, they certainly knew how. And in the short time that Mary had been here, before the other girls where dragged in, I found that Millie had no objection to the act, either.

Arie knew what to do. She walked with her knees to the foot of the bed, then leaned over and dropped to her stomach between Millie's legs. I couldn't see anything, so I whiled away the time by playing with Millie's boobs. Arie was apparently doing a good job, from the panting and the groaning coming from my invisible woman. Eventually, there was a long "Auuuuuuuuggggggg" and I knew the action was over.

No way was I going to let the woman take my johnson into her mouth. She would have to become a lot more docile before that would happen, so I would have to do her normally. I didn't want to lay on manacled hands, so I pulled her up to lay beside me and on her side. Millie had recovered and was feeling around trying to decide how I was going to do the woman. I reached down and lifted Arie's leg so that her crack would be open enough for me to enter from behind. Once again, Millie was there to guide my dong into the proper channel, and in it went. Now I could drop her leg, then reach under and over to fill my hands with the Madam's chest handles. With Millie rimming my rear hole with one hand and pulling and cupping my nuts with the other, I casually enjoyed my duo performance.

The perfect ending to the perfect day.

--------------

Time passes

In the next couple of days, the girls had finally managed to punch all the holes in the rock wall and they got a day off so that I could charge, blast and clear the air. After the first session, I didn't play the game of grading punishment for the night based on performance of the day. Nevertheless, I made it plain that it was always optional if I decided that my workforce wasn't paying proper attention to their jobs.

The next morning, Debra was stiff, but otherwise all right. Of course, she had pissed on herself during the night, but laying on a warm rug on a warm floor alleviated any discomfort of laying in her own pee. Mary was in a different shape. Not only did she have a major case of museum legs from standing all night, but her body was so stiff she would have fallen down when I released her if I hadn't supported by the arm. In her case also, there was a puddle on the floor between her legs. She managed to recover somewhat in her inactive time before breakfast, but still had a hard time the next day. After the second workday, she just collapsed after dinner and apparently didn't stir all night.

Now it was time for them to learn to crush and pan. If they thought they were scared of the drill, they soon learned how foolish they had been. When I demonstrated the workings of the crusher, they were terrified of just being in the same rock room as the equipment. Once again, I ran them through the steps, slowly.

First, though, the broken rock had to be moved from the rock face to the crusher room. A small mine cart, running on rails like you would see under a toy train in an amusement park, was loaded with a flat shovel for the loose material and by hand in the case of the larger pieces. Rock is heavy, and the cart would hold almost a ton of material, but I knew that the girls would have trouble pushing that much at first, so I had them shovel in about a half load.

Over the decades, the crusher had been moved closer to the work site. There were three other empty rock cavities up and down the main shaft where it used to reside. The cart was easy to push on level rails, but impossible if there was any slope, so whenever there was a major rise or fall in the shaft following the gold vein, the equipment had to be moved. Making a big cavern in the rock for the equipment was easy - it just took a few days of blasting, but the problem lay in the fact that the water and tailings from the panning process had to be removed. To do this, a two or three inch hole had to be bored at a thirty degree angle from the room to the outside of the mountain. I hadn't had to do this yet, but had been told by my Uncle that it could take an entire winter to accomplish. "And Junior, when you have to drill it, go slow and easy. Remember, if you jam or break the bit a hundred feet down a rock hole, you can't exactly call a pipe retrieval fishing service."

Loading rock by hand and shoveling gravel was something that girl muscles and motions were unused to, so the first time it took about ten times as long as it would have taken me, but eventually they had a cart half full. It was ready to move.

"Ok, girls. Listen up." I pointed to the flanged front wheels of the cart. "Think of this as a train. See those wheels..." They looked, sort of apprehensively. "...well, they will cut an arm or a leg off just as fast as a real train will. NEVER, NEVER get in front of the moving cart. Always push from behind." I pointed to the horizontal bar that was the push handle on the rear end. There was one on the front for pushing it back, also.

"Start pushing."

The three got into position and together began to push. I think they were surprised that it moved so easily, but, of course, steel wheels on steel rails take a fraction of the effort of normal wheels on the ground. Slowly, it began to move down the shaft. I was just enjoying the sight. Three sets of tits dangling from three leaned over bodies. Tits that were jiggling and bobbing back and forth. And from behind, three sets of holes in plain sight. And, in fact, at the right angle for me to just step up and shove my dong in...

Whoa, I told myself. I was trying to emphasize the importance of working hard and correctly. It wasn't going to help my position for the boss to interrupt work because he wanted to pump one of the employees on the job. I would wait until the lunch lady came by, to relieve my pressures. So for now, I just walked beside or behind and occasionally squeezed a bobbling tit or explored a bent over crack with a finger.

Eventually, the cart rolled up to the stops in the crusher cavern. I showed them the dump lever and soon a pile of rock was sitting on the rock floor and I began the next phase of training. First, the lever was engaged that caused the hydraulic cylinders to raise the massive piston to its waiting position about eight feet above the anvil. Just about the time it finished its upward travel, the safety prop - just a very heavy three inch steel pipe - fell into place under the piston.

Then a pile of rock and dirt was shoveled onto the center of the anvil. Next a little spray of water to keep the dust down when broken. I pointed to the two floor pedals that had to be stepped on to release the piston and the lever that moved the safety prop out of the way. The reason for two pedals, was safety. Accidentally stepping on one wouldn't release the fall latch.

"Pull that lever," I ordered, pointing to the handle that moved the heavy steel pipe out of the way to allow the piston drop when triggered. She did that. Then, "Step on both of those." Hesitantly, she complied. The piston suddenly dropped like a bomb and hit the target eight feet below with a resounding smash of sound. All three girls jumped about a foot off the floor, looking wild eyed at the crusher. The violence had utterly surprised them. After they had settled down a bit, I had them raise the piston, then demonstrated how to push the crushed material off the side of the anvil and onto the chute that dropped it on the lead of the sluice trough.



Now, around on the far side of the trough, I turned the valve that let water cascade in to the wooden chute. This item dated from the early gold rush days in California - not the actual trough, but the design. All it consisted of was a long slanting piece of wood, a foot and a half wide - with sides - that had water pouring in at the top and overflowing at the bottom. At one foot intervals, crossways along the inside base were short pieces of wood that turned the chute into sort of a man made set of rapids. The gold bearing sand would be dumped in at the top and the stream of water would wash it down the chute and finally out at the bottom and into the waste drain. The gold flakes and specks, being much heavier than the rock particles, would be caught and settle against the top side of the cross pieces. This design hadn't been modified for a hundred years and fifty years or more. Very little gold escaped the chute to be lost.

After a significant amount of color was seen above one or other of the cross piece dams, it would be scooped out with a small form fitting spoon and the process would continue.

For the rest of the day, the girls would muck a load of rock, run it down to the crusher, then smash it and pan it for any color. The process was fairly simple, even for unmechanical girls, but the violence of the crusher still terrified them. I knew it would take a while to get over the fear. Heck, even I was nervous for the first week or so when I learned to use it.

In a few days or weeks, when they got familiar with the process, I would have one girl drilling, one mucking and hauling, and one crushing and panning, swapping positions every day.

The weeks pass

The girls had learned the process, and the three could just about produce the amount per day that I could have without help. But, since they worked almost every day, rather than my irregular schedule, much more color was produced.

Tt was much more pleasant waiting in the living cavern with my squeeze while my unpaid employees worked to increase my wealth. I would quietly walk down on occasion, without using a flashlight and observe them as they worked. It only took a couple of times for me to catch them goofing off for then to not ever again make that mistake.

Like all low paid employees the world over, these tried everything in the book to take a break from work. They made the assumption that once I had inspected them, I wouldn't be back for a hour or two. That turned out to be a mistake. My leaving, then turning out the flashlight and returning in a couple of minutes later caught them all relaxing on the floor. The workday stopped at that point, and shortly each was strung up side by side and taught the lesson of honest work. It was a loud set of lessons, with lots of screaming and loud thwacks from the whip. I had mounted two more sets of eyebolts in the wall so that all could be X'ed up at a time. It was planned for my entertainment, but as it turned out, was used for real just a few days after I finished.

I finally fixed the problem by going from an hourly wage - ok, not a very funny joke - to piece work. At the end of the day, one of them would give me the can of dust that had been produced, and if the weight didn't measure up, they had the choice of the wall, or to keep working until it did.

By now, of course, all of the girls were in far better physical condition than when they started, and by the end of the day they were fatigued, but not on the verge of exhaustive collapse as in the week they began the work. Once the idea settled in that they had no choice, and even if they managed to run out of the cavern, there was no way in hell they would ever escape. Or even survive for longer than a few hours. Even in summer.

Now, in the evenings they could actually relax and enjoy themselves with a book, or just talking. Even Arie became less of a prickly female as she got used to the routine. Not that I would trust her for a second with my back turned. She was still not accepting the fact that she was effectively a slave. So, I arranged for a couple of tests to check out my theory.

They got one day a week off, at least. And, of course, when I was loading the holes and blasting, they were back in the cavern, as they also were for at least half a day as the fan cleared out the fumes and dust.

As planned, I made Arie the straw boss of the operation with the authority to move the girls around to maximize production. If the crushing and panning were getting behind the mucking, she could bring the other girl into the crusher room to help unjam the process. Of course, she worked also. Her position didn't give her the privilege of standing around and watching.

They got really efficient in drilling. I was wondering why that part of the operation seem to go faster and more smoothly than the other. Then I saw that the mucking girl would help in resetting the drill when it was time to change to a new hole. I realized that they wanted the wall to be finished, since once I started the explosive loading, they got the day off.

That was ok with me and gave them a reason to be efficient.

Time passes

The girls were showering after a workday and I was sitting at the table and measuring out the day's run of color. By now I had filled my original can to the top with dust and was starting on another. In a few years of this, I would be a rich man. Millie had cleaned up after supper and was waiting to go over the latest inventory of supplies. I knew that the diesel consumption was up considerably from all the mining, but I had plenty of full drums of fuel stashed in the power cavern. I could go a couple of more years like this without running short.

Food was another problem. Of course, I had put in a surplus last summer, but it was an excess intended for two people, not five. The staples would last until mid summer but stuff like sugar, canned goods and suchlike were going to get thin. Already we were rationing the shortages and our meals were long on flour and cornmeal based foods and short on deserts like pies and cakes and cookies. Not a problem - we might get bored with eating, but we certainly weren't going to starve. The first load in the summer would be just foodstuffs.

I reached up and tweaked a nipple on the end of a bobbing tittie. "Sit down, sweetie. What cha got?" She crinkeled her nose at me and laid her clipboard on the table and flopped into the chair opposite me. Flopped, was a good term. I never got tired of watching braless knockers bobble, swing and sway. I assumed that the sight might get old someday, but I hoped it was a long time off.

We went over the counts and I gave her some suggestions for the next couple of months. She wrote some notes, then said, "They're out of the shower. Time to hook them up." We always hooked the three to their chains for the night. No way would I ever go to sleep with loose slaves in the complex - not even the two docile ones, Debra and Mary. That fact was about to be demonstrated in spades.

Millie had just started across the floor when she screamed. I looked up to see Arie almost running towards us. Normally, a naked girl hurrying somewhere would be erotic as hell, with girl parts swaying too and fro, but I only had eyes for the gun in her hand. A big gun. My .44 magnum, in fact - the only gun that wasn't locked up tight in the gun safe.

Millie just backed up as Arie stopped ten feet away, holding the barrel on me. I never realized just how big a large calibre pistol looked from the wrong end. I gave her credit. Somehow she had gone all the way across the floor to the shelves beside my bed to get the gun, and then back without either of us noticing. Nothing wrong with my alertness.

"Just what..." That was as far as I got.

"Shut up and listen." It was a heavy piece, and she had to hold it up with both hands. But they were steady. "You can follow orders in one piece or you can follow them with a bullet in your leg."

Hmmmm. That showed me how much she know about firearms. She obviously knew how to use one, but wasn't really knowledgable about calibers. If she shot me in the leg, I wouldn't follow any orders. This wasn't Hollywood where the good guy took a shot, stepped back into the shadows for a second to make sure he wasn't hurt badly, then shot the perpetrator between the eyes. A bullet from that gun would take a person's leg clean off, and leave them dying from massive blood loss and shock in just seconds.

"You and I are leaving. You!" This was to Millie. "Find the clothes I wore coming up here. And bring his."

I tried to talk some sense into her. "You know, of course, that it's forty below outside?"

"So what. I've seen plenty of trucks work in colder temperatures."

Now she was being wacko. "Truck? You remember that we came up here on a snowmobile, don't you? A truck wouldn't get five feet in that snow."

She remembered. "Ok, then we'll go on it. As soon as your bitch brings our clothes, we go. Sit down."

She wasn't a fool. She stayed far out of any jumping distance for me, rather than walk up to me and stick the gun in my ribs, a la Hollywood.

I did. Then tried to reason with her. "I don't think you know what it's like out there. If you thought it was chilly in the cabin that week you got here, you're going to be in for an unpleasant surprise when you go out in a real cold. Especially with those department store clothes they try to pass off as snow gear."

"Ok. Then I'll wear some of yours." Her arms were getting tired of holding up a three pound hand cannon. She kept dropping it to her waist then back up again. "I can stand a few hours of being cold to get out of here."

A few hours! She obviously thought that she was twenty or thirty miles north of town. Her trip up here was confusing, and she obviously didn't remember the two hundred miles. Well, she HAD been unconscious for part of the trip. I looked over to see Millie hurrying over with our cold weather gear.

"Put it down and back up." Millie, was scared, but did as she was told. Then she pointed the gun at me again. "Lay down on the floor till I get dressed."

I was getting horny. There were two naked ladies in front of me, both with bare cracks showing, and jugs just waiting for my hands. I didn't want to go outside - I wanted some ass.

I stood up. "Tomorrow is a busy day. You need to get some sleep or you're going to hate yourself in the morning."

"Back up, Buster. Last chance." She pulled the hammer back.

I didn't stop, and just walked around the table toward her. She moved the barrel sideways and pulled the trigger in a warning shot. Instead of a deafening bang, there was just a click. Panicked, she looked in the end of the cylinder - it had bullets. Once again, point and click. I noticed that she was trying for warning shots - both times she moved the point of aim away from me before she squeezed. Interesting.

As I got up to her, she suddenly knew that she had been... well, had. I took the gun from her limp hands, set it on the table, then spun her around and pushed an arm up behind her shoulder. With that arm in on hand and her hair in another, I frog marched her over to the punishment wall. She didn't even struggle as I trussed her up in the X.

By now Millie had unfrozen, and had run over and wrapped her arms around me like an octopus. In a few seconds, I unwound her and told her to go get the flat whip from her hope chest. In a short while, the cavern rang with the screams of the foiled escapee.

Later

Arie had been stretched out on the floor again, and I had enjoyed using her rear hole - again. Millie and I were in bed but not sleeping. She kept hugging me over and over, as if I had come back from the precipice, or a dangerous mission. "I knew she was going to shoot you. I knew it!"

I just traced a finger around and around her boobs - I was satisfied for the night and not in need of any more tail. "Actually, I don't think she really would have. You didn't notice, but both times that she pulled the trigger, she had aimed to the side of me. She's a conniving bitch that had no problem setting someone else up for the axe, but I don't think she has it in her to do the deed herself."

And of course, I had never had any intention of allowing her to even try. I had deliberately left the big revolver on the open shelf as a test. And, of course, all real ammunition was out of her reach. The six rounds that were in the gun when she grabbed it were empty of powder. I had pulled the bullets, emptied the cases, killed the primers with oil, and then put the cartridges back together.

But, for the escape attempt, the judge tacked on many more years of servitude.

Time passes

Arie was now wearing new jewelry. Both ankles had manacles, and a foot and a half chain connected them, just as if she were a inmate of a southern chain gang. She couldn't walk now at full stride - and certainly couldn't run - but had to shuffle along in a short step lope. It was a movement that really made her jugs bobble up and down, side ways and round and round. She was no longer the straw boss - that position I gave to Mary for now.

In the weeks that followed her ridiculous attempt at escape, she was never let to forget her infraction. Besides the permanent ankle hardware, she showered last, waited on the other two girls at meals, and serviced me in unique ways.

Sometimes I would enter her work area and just order her to bend over and spread 'em, Of course, her legs would only spread so far with the ankle chain, but she could bend her legs out somewhat to widen access to her crack. I would pump the muddy woman's twat from behind, unload, then tell her to go back to work.

Or, I would just sprawl her out, face down in the mud of the sump pit, and shove my dick up her rear chute. She would get up, hair, face, and body dripping with mud and water, and her rear crack dripping with goo.

Millie enjoyed getting revenge on her for trying to kill her man. Hours and hours would go by with Arie kneeling at the foot of the chair that Millie loved to sit in and read, the bitch's tongue almost numb from the fatigue of licking my squeeze for so long.

Since I had really gotten into B&D, I began to put Arie into some of the positions that I got out of my porno mags. On occasion, one of the other girls would be used, but usually just my rebellious bitch. I would manacle her hands behind her, then draw them up to the ceiling. Strappado, it was called. That made it easy to use her from behind.

Or, tie her ankles to her wrists, then her knees to her elbows. In that position, legs bent and held widely open by her straining arms, a woman has nothing that can't be used, abused, or fondled.

Or, just tie the overhead rope to her wrist manacles and draw her up a foot off the floor. That was real punishment after a few minutes, especially if I lightly wrapped the bull whip around her a few times.

But, as the months went by, I slowly let up on her punishment. I still had fun with her, but slowly changed from punishment to just bondage for my enjoyment. Because I knew that she had really tried to shoot the revolver, but had deliberately aimed to miss, she could redeem herself an become just one of the girls again. Had she actually tried to lower the hammer on me for real, she would be going through hell right now and forever on.

The months pass

I was standing behind Millie, who was bent over the back of the sofa with her hands on the cushions supporting her. My rod was pumping in and out and my hands were pulling and massaging her tits and nipples. Mary was behind me with her finger stuck up my asshole and massaging my prostate and her mouth was engaged in both swallowing and licking my balls. All too soon, I grabbed Millie's hips, and pumped will full force. I spewed her full of cream, then shuddered as the post orgasmic spasms set in, pulled out, backed up and sat down to wait for one of the girls to clean me up.

It was spring and I was about to leave to my hometown. It was a little earlier than might have been wise, although way past the time of high water. I wasn't going to pull that boner again, like I had done after my first winter up here. I had made one change. There was now a chain on the outside of the door leading into the cabin from the tunnel that would prevent any of the girls from leaving. I didn't think that any of the three would try to escape again and would only give them a five percent chance of making it to town even if they tried it even in the height of summer, but I wanted to shortstop even the try.

However, there was always chance that I would never come back - for many reasons, all of them violent. In that case, the girls would slowly starve in the dark. So, in private, I showed Millie how to remove the grate from the little tunnel that used to have a conveyer to move rock out of the cavern to fall down the side of the mountain. I told her that if I didn't make it back by winter, then I was probably dead and she would need to ration the food for the winter, then leave the next spring. In the diesel/battery cavern was hidden a map and directions on how to walk back to town and where to lay up safely for the night. Of course, she had long known about basic maintenance of the complex, such as fueling, battery use, and so forth.

One last good shmuck on Millie, along with a pussy fingering and titty bob, and I was in the truck heading south.

--------------

Town

It didn't look all that different than when I left it last fall. A few new buildings but, all in all, the same. On the way down, I had stopped at the supplies cache, gathered up the empty cans that I had left, then made an inventory of what I needed to put it back in order. Parking at Joe's fuel depot, I unloaded the empty drums of diesel, ordered them filled, along with the gas cans, then headed for Stuffer's hooch.

"Goddamn, John. Good to see you again," he said as we shook hands. At least he was still all right, but I had never known him to go to a joy house, so I wasn't expecting him to wind up in a snowdrift with a shiv in his back.

I sat at the chair he waved me to. "What's the bad news for the winter, this time?"

He waved his hand. "We'll talk about that later. I've been waiting for you to show up again. You aren't the only one who wants our town back."

I yawned, then crinkeled my forehead. "What are you getting at?"

"You're tired. I want you to sack out over there until later. That will give me some time to get the word out."

I was about to protest, but I WAS beat from the trip. Even in summer, it was a long, slow, bouncy ride. I nodded, then relaxed on the ratty sofa as he turned off the lights and left.

--------------

Later

Dave, Bob - different Bob, not the constable - William, Stuffer and myself were sitting around the table. The first three were old acquaintances from my school days and pre-gold mining inheritance. "Kat was killed?" I asked. I knew about Jake, but little Kat? Our resident comic book nut. He had thousands of them - some valuable.

"Why? Unless something changed while I was gone, he didn't have money."

Bob shook his head. "Unknown. All we're sure of is that he left from the sawmill one evening, went to the Peacock, and was never seen again."

"It isn't hard to put two and two together," added Dave. "He might have left town, but there is no way in hell he would have left his collection behind. And damn sure, he wouldn't have left without his sister."

I nodded. "So, we have several sunflower boots that wound up as stiffs, myself stuck and left for dead, Jake and Doc murdered, and now another local missing."

William was nervously opening and closing his huge pocketknife. "Stuffer says you have... uh, already handled some of the bastards."

"Bitches," I said. "Not the main man and his hired guns." I wondered how much to say. "My tipster said that the kingpin was a guy named Reed. I never did see..." I looked over at Stuffer shaking his head.

"No, John. While you were gone over the winter, I did some snooping. The real owner of the Peacock and two others is this guy." He laid a picture on the table. A guy standing by a car talking to someone. "Reed is is name. Larson Reed. Keeps a low profile and lives in the top floor of the Heston." A upscale hotel, downtown." Likes to mingle with the customers at night, but never brags about his position. Most people think he is just the house accountant. Buys drinks for regulars. Even loans them a bill or two when they aren't holding."

I looked at the picture. A big man, not bad looking. About thirtyish.

He continued. "Carries a shiv in one boot and another under his left armpit."

I looked at Stuffer with wide eyes. "How the fuck did you get that information? No, don't tell me. You have an insider at the place."

He just looked back at us blankly.

Bob spoke up. "Stuffer said that you probably already have a plan."

William stabbed the knife into the block of wood on the table. "We're with you. Jake was my sisters fiancé. And a friend."

"So was Kat," Dave added. "That kid never hurt anybody. Hell, he would lend you his last dollar if you weren't holding."

I nodded, the replied. "Sort of a plan. I've been thinking about it nonstop all winter. But it's incomplete. I need some more info. And a few items..."

Fairbanks

I drove down to the big city to visit my "banker." He was happy to see the large container of dust that I brought. In fact, it was more than he had cash on hand to buy, so I went shopping for the day to give him time to round up more greenbacks. Once again, the price of gold was up. The next day he paid me and I began to look for that magical device that I had read about during the winter - the TV Tape player. Unfortunately, it wasn't available yet, at least up here. What the heck. I stopped by a record shop and stocked up on some more platters. And girl stuff. Flip flops, combs, twat plugs for their periods, and so forth. And lots of miscellaneous general supplies - small ones, of course. I only had a car to haul the stuff back to my hometown and the truck. But now I had plenty of money.

The truck was loaded with supplies. With five of us up state, buying food by the can wasn't practical. At least for the staples. I loaded fifty pound bags of flour, rice, cornmeal and so forth. And bags of salt and sugar. For canned stuff, I got the restaurant size, in huge tins. The cabin made a great cold storage during most of the year - no weevil was going to survive forty below. And it was varmint proof. No problem with wolves and bears.

Loaded full to the top, I started back home. It was late spring and the weather was beautiful and I took my time. Along the way, I replenished my emergency stash, just in case. Soon, I was home and unloading. I wanted to make two more trips before winter so I could have several years worth of supplies on hand. If my plan went south, it would be unwise for me to return to my hometown the next summer.

By late summer, I had done just that. The complex was brimming with fuel and food and supplies. And I had a plan. How good it was would depend on luck, timing and mother nature. And greed.

As it turned out, Stuffer had a couple of local girls working on the inside and willing to supply him with information. He was careful to make sure that they were never found out, otherwise there would be a couple of more bodies laying in the woods with slits in places where girls weren't supposed to be slit. But, now we knew who and how.

Bob was the inside man. He spent all summer going to the Peacock to establish his bonefides. He dropped a casual hint here, and asked an innocent question there. Talking about me.

During the summer, I made some additions to my obscure trail leading to the mine.

Fall rolled around and we were waiting for the proper weather.

Time passes

"This might be it." Stuffer was reading the weather report that Dave brought over from the airport. We had been waiting for an interminable time for the proper front to come through, but so far every one had petered out. "Forty eight hours will tell."

"I hope it doesn't come too fast. Last time I tried something like this, I..." My eyes widened as the door opened and a woman entered - a girl, actually. Since she hadn't knocked, the obviously she was either expected or had the right to be here. I looked at her for a moment. I didn't think she could be Stuffers squeeze - she was thirty years young than him. Heck, she was even several years younger than me. I looked at Stuffer, but he looked back calmly. So... She was part of the deal.

"John, this is Cristy White." Son of a bitch! This had to be Kat's kid sister. Damn, the last time I saw her she was flat as a board and had braces on her teeth.

"Christy. This is..."

"I know who it is. Hello, John." She walked over and gave me a hug. So this was his inside source. Goddamn. If mild little Kat found out that his sister was working in a cunt house, he would come riding out of hell on the Devil's own horse.

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "Promise me one thing, John." I nodded. What else could I do? "When you cut his balls off, tell him who was your source of information." I nodded again, then looked at Stuffer. He just looked back, blankly. She turned around and looked at him. "Remember, Joe. Peggy is innocent. Some of the other girls are in on it, or at least help with setting up the killings, but she doesn't."

He nodded. "Yes. We know." He turned her toward the back door. Now get out of here - the others will be here soon.

I watched as she left, emotions in a... well, I didn't know. But I hoped that I could cut his balls off while he was still alive and bring them back to Kat's sister.

In about fifteen minutes, my other three conspirators came in and we ran over the plan one more time.

Finally, I looked at my friends. "Ok, we need to get the tale started. Remember, if it starts to go wrong up to the truck leaving, we back off and try again with another plan. If the truck goes, we're committed.

--------------

Later

I was looking over the truck that I had "bought." Actually, Dave had leased it for me and had taken my truck out of town to an out of the way location. I needed to make sure that I was familiar with it, since it was somewhat bigger than mine, which made it a damned good size for sure. This one also had a few special modifications that didn't come from the factory. The main reason I had it now, was that it had a crew cab. We made a dry run and it seemed to work.

Dave ran a truck mechanic shop so we parked it in his garage where it would be "worked" on for some obscure problem. Actually, it was a way to stall my leaving town in case our weather front died off again, as the last two had done. The truck wouldn't be "fixed" until the proper weather began to blow through.

Later that afternoon, Bob came by looking for me. "Ok, you're on. I think he took the hook. Now you have to set it." He took my hand. "Be careful, John. This bastard is a snake."

Almost instinctively I moved my right hand and felt for my hunting knife, hidden under my clothes on my left rear side. What the heck. I might get it, but unless I was ambushed from behind, there was some uncertainty about just who would wind up stuck.

We moved out into the increasing wind. I looked to the northwest. Nothing yet. At the entrance to the Peacock the bouncer nodded to Bob and we entered the warm joy house. Inside the door was a huge room, taking up most of the bottom floor. This early in the day, very few stiffs were in the joint and only two girls were visible, sitting at a table drinking colored water and talking to each other. Bob walked over to the barkeep, said something and was nodded toward a door. He knocked and we entered.

For the first time, up close I saw the bastard that I intended to feed to the wolves. The man in Stuffer's picture. Tall, well built, clean shaven. He looked like a prosperous pipeline engineer, with polished leather boots, new jeans and a plaid shirt.

He got up and took my hand. Just another regular guy. "Hello, John. If Bob hasn't told you, my name is Reed. Larson Reed. Sit down. Drink?"

I shook my head. God no. I needed all my senses and reactions working if I was to survive this day. "No thanks, Mr. Reed. Too early for me." I sat down in the offered chair.

He nodded at Bob in obvious dismissal. When the door closed, he leaned over the desk and said, "Bob tells me you have a claim and need a grubstake." That told me that he was a sunflower trying to talk like a Sourdough. Grubstake. He had been watching too many movies.

I nodded. "I have a good vein and it's getting better, but with a hammer and hand drill I can't produce much." I reached into my pocket and took out a metal can with a screw top. This is the month's run of color. I set it on his desk and he picked it up with an effort. Unscrewing the lid, he looked in and just stared. I could almost feel the greed radiating from him as he looked at the product of an entire winter's worth of work, and a little extra from my stash. I knew that when I talked about my minimal production, he was probably expecting a little tobacco pouch with a few ounces. He was looking at about twenty thousand dollars worth of gold. Not a small amount in the nineteen seventies.

"Not bad," he said. "What do you need?"

I started listing a long phony set of needs for turning this putative mine into a big production. "A lot more than this will buy. Drills, explosives and someone who knows how to use them, dump trucks, crushers, separators. I have a full list made up, but I left it in my cabin. I wasn't expecting to find someone interested in investing in the mine. I just came down for more supplies.

He screwed the lid back on and pushed it back over to me. I had no fear of him taking the gold and disposing of me. No way would he kill the farmer before he revealed the location of the goose with the golden eggs. I put it back in my pocket - a heavy load for my jacket. He leaned back and steepled his hands, looking at me and pretending to think.

Finally, he started, "I might be able to find the money. If the claim is as good as you say it is. How far is it?"

"A few hours," I lied. "My truck should be ready in a little while if you want to run up there and look. Maybe with a mining engineer, if you want."

He shook his head. "No. Lets not get anyone else involved yet. We can take my truck and go now."

I needed to cut this off at the knees right now. "Is that your green 4x4 outside?" He nodded. "I'm sorry, but nothing gets up that road and over the water but a ten wheel drive with a fording kit. In a pickup, we'd be swimming in really cold water at the first river." I shook my head. "No. We need to take my truck. But... do you have a couple of men that can come along? Maybe one with a rifle? Grizzlies can be a problem this time of year." Nobody who was planning something not exactly kosher would deliberately ask for his mark to bring along reinforcements.

Dave's garage

The truck was outside and idling. It was also loaded to the gills, although most of the cargo was phony. Empty boxes and empty fuel drums. Reed and his two goons were standing beside the passenger door, waiting for me to "pay" Dave for the service. I was wearing my light plaid shirt on purpose. The three men were too ignorant of their environment to know that you NEVER went into the boonies, even in summer, without a full set of snow gear.

I nodded to Reed, went around to the driver's side and climbed up into the seat. Reed got in the front with me and his two men in the crew cab seats behind us. I shoved it into gear and off we went.

It was just getting dark and the wind was picking up. I could tell that the norther was only a few hours away. If I looked really hard, I could see an occasional flake of snow crossing my line of sight. As we drove, the boss man asked a few questions about the claim. I lied and just threw out answers. I knew I was perfectly safe until we got there, but once they saw the place and knew were it was, my lifespan would be measured in seconds. Eventually, we hit the trail at the end of the road and kept going. Now it was pitch black, the wind was really blowing. Not that it bothered the huge truck, but I could see the branches in the headlight beams whipping in the wind. I kept the cab nice and warm, but feeling of the side glass, I could tell that the temperature was close to freezing by now and dropping rapidly. With the wind like it was, the chill factor had to have been well in the minuses.

Reed was starting to get restless. The few hours away were getting to be a little longer than he was expecting. Finally, I reached the part of the trail that I had modified in the summer and they didn't notice that we turned left at the fork in the trail. Actually, I think they were dozing and noticed nothing. I reached down under the dash and flipped a hidden switch - one that wasn't standard equipment on this truck. The new trail led on though the woods then began to curve back toward the real trail in a great circle. Finally, it intersected the original trail, I drove on for a half mile or so, then braked to a stop.

Reed and his men popped out of their highway trance. "What's the deal?" he asked, not exactly in a friendly voice. He had gone lot further than he had been led to believe the distance would be.

I pointed to the temperature gauge. It was almost pegged on the H. A phony reading to be sure - it was the direct result of the switch I had flipped a short time before. "We're overheating. We got ice in the radiator on that last creek fording. I just need to put a piece of cardboard over the grill for a short time and it'll melt." Not giving him a chance to reply, I opened the door and climbed down, quickly closing it behind me. I would prefer them not to know yet just how cold it was. As I hit the ground, I immediately stooped, reached under the climber, and twisted a valve. Diesel began to pour out onto the ground. Then, not hurrying, because my suspicious passengers might be watching in the side mirror, I walked down the side to the truck to the back and disappeared from view.

I reached up for my propositioned seabag, began to pull it out... and just about had a coronary. A figure suddenly rose up, totally fur covered, and began to crouch in preparation to jump. I backed up, whipped out my hunting knife was was just about to meet the lunge with a blade, when a voice shouted over the wind, "No! John. It's me, Christy."

God almighty damned! I spent the next few seconds trying to get my heart restarted, then reached up and pulled her down. Now wasn't the time for stupid questions, especially with a truck cab full of armed bastards who were about to be in even more of a killing mood than normal.

I grabbed the seabag, slung it over my shoulder, grabbed her hand and hauled ass up the road.

Waiting

Goddamn, the wind was fierce! It must have been blowing at forty or fifty miles an hour. I liked to have froze before I got my snow gear out of the bag and put on. We were well off the trail, but in a pre-surveyed spot with a view of the truck, about a hundred yards away. Of course, all we could see was the taillights.

Once I was properly clothed, I pulled out the rescue bag, held it open and said, "Get inside." She climbed in and I was right behind her. I pulled the sides up to our necks, then pulled on the draw ropes to lightly close the opening. Then I kneaded a chemical warmer and sat back to wait. The irony of being on a major revenge trip, and then winding up sitting in a bag in a major storm and with a pretty woman was... well, it wasn't anything I would ever tell anybody. I didn't want a reputation as the biggest blowhard south of the Arctic Circle.

The bag was totally wind proof, and we began to warm up quickly, especially with a warmer between us. I had been dressed for warm weather and had been riding in a heated cab. My exposure to the elements without proper clothing was only a couple of minutes. She had been riding in the back of the truck for hours. If she hadn't been a genuine Sourdough female who new how to dress, she would have been dead and stiff long before.

"Now. While we're waiting. Just what the fuck was this little stunt for?"

Obviously, we couldn't see each other faces. In fact, we could see nothing but taillights and headlight glare in the distance. But, I doubted that she currently had a little girl smile on her face. "That bastard murdered my bother. I want to help kill him. Or, at least watch him die."

Shortly, I heard the engine stop as the tank ran dry from the valve spewing all the fuel onto the ground. That diesel was now air locked and nobody was going to start it, even with fuel, that didn't know how to purge the fuel lines and injectors.

"You've got a part in the next phase. You're supposed to be with Bob, not me. What the hell were you thinking, you dumb bi... broad? This isn't a game or a movie. What did you think you were going to do that I couldn't?"

"Please, John." A little girl voice. "I just needed to see it happen."

I wondered how long they would stay in the cab. It would start cooling off fast, but with no clothes except what they were wearing, they had nowhere to go. If they stayed in the truck they froze. If they left and started walking, they froze faster.

They got out. I could see shadows between the headlight beams, shining the other way down the trail. I saw the taillights blink as they moved around behind the truck, no doubt looking for me. That only lasted for a few seconds and I heard two doors slam as they desperately climbed back into the cab.

"Are you warm enough to walk a few miles?"

I could detect the disbelief in her voice. "Walk where? Back to town? What about the truck?"

"Nope, we're going back down the road a little."

Now she was getting disturbed. "And just leave them? What if they get the truck started and find their way back?"

"That truck ain't going anywhere till the storm stops and a mechanic comes by with a can of fuel and a wrench."

I got out of the sack, waited for her to climb out, then put it back into the seabag. I slung it over my shoulder again, and began to walk back toward the truck, but well off the trail. As we passed it, I looked as hard as I could, but I could see nothing through the windows. We stayed well into the woods until we were ahead of the headlight reach, then moved back to the trail. I could still see the truck, now about a quarter mile away. "You'll thaw out as soon as you get to the gates of hell," I said quietly, then we turned around and kept walking.

About three miles down the trail, we came to a tree that had been marked with the florescent tape, entered the woods again and pulled the tarp off of Bob's jeep. Opening the hood, I kneaded two warmers and set them in the battery compartment. In a few minutes, I tried the starter and it kicked right off. I slowly steered the jeep onto the road and waited for the engine to warm up.

"We're going to your claim?" she asked. "I thought we had to..."

"Nope. Back to town. More stuff to do."

She was confused, as I knew she would be, along with the unfortunates in the truck. "But town is in the other direction."

I had a little time to brag about how smart I had been. "That's what they're supposed to think, also. In the summer, I cut a long loop through the woods that allowed me to double back without my passengers noticing it. So the truck is facing south, now. The plan was, for our stranded bastards to leave the truck, once they realized they had been had, then start walking in the direction they would think was back to town - except, the rear of the truck is facing north, now. They would have headed for the north pole. Of course, the cold or the wolves would probably have gotten them before they came to Santa's place."

In the low light from the dash, she was looking at me with a different expression. I suddenly realized that it was admiration.

I quickly went on. "We were planning on doing this when an ordinary end of summer cold front came through. They would have lasted quite a while, but still nowhere long enough to walk a hundred miles back to town, even if they knew the right direction. What we didn't plan on was a ten year storm and a wind chill that would freeze your bal... ass off in five minutes."

She put her hand on my arm. "John. I've been a hooker for a year. I know all about the references to male parts." Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

Shortly, we were flying down the trail toward town. In far less time than it took the truck to get to it's final stopping place, I pulled up to Stuffers house, got out, and walked up the steps. The door opened before I could knock and we scrambled in.

Later that night

Congratulations had to wait for later, but everybody got the news that the operation went ok. The satisfaction level in the room could have been cut with a knife. The guys were wondering what in the heck I was towing Kat's sister around for, but I didn't have an answer for that yet and no time to make one up.

Holding a steaming cup of coffee in my hands, I started going through the checklist. "Truck?"

Dave spoke up. "Idling new to the field. Along with the van."

The van had been bought the week before by a straw buyer so as to have no connection to the conspirators - i.e us.

"Any customers in the place?"

Stuffer shook his head. "We don't think so, unless some stiff is laying over from last night. Bob is bouncing the front door, keeping everybody out." I knew that on a night like this, there was no way that one of the inside goons would be standing on that porch. He would be a permanent totem pole in five minutes. Even with cold weather gear, Bob was probably having a tough time as it was. Especially since the wind was face on to the front of the building. "They're probably wondering why at least a few customers haven't showed up tonight. And where their boss and his goons are."

"Phones?"

"Dead since sundown." William held up a pair of dikes.

I looked at the clock. "Ok. Let's do it!"

The Peacock, and thereabouts

The fucking wind was howling even more than it had been in the woods. It was far too cold to snow, but still, little flakes of ice were blowing sideways. The wind was going to make this a touchy operation. Fortunately, the two story Peacock was sitting alone on the outside of town, with no other buildings near. Especially downwind. Behind it was just an empty field that was sometimes used to park snow from the streets. I watched as Dave backed my truck up to about fifty feet of the back of the building. I could see a light in the back of the truck, under the flapping canvas. I also knew that there was a roaring propane heater at the front of the bed, also. A draw for anybody caught outside on a hellish night like this. The entry flap was down, and the entire canvas covering over the bed was trying to blow up like a balloon. I hoped it didn't just rip off. Yet.

I saw the brake lights come on, and the truck stop. The rear loading light came on. Then the van zoomed onto the field and parked in front of the truck.

I waved to William. He upended a can and a liquid began to pour out. He didn't soak the porch, but laid a good stream on both sides of the entry door, but not closer than about ten feet. Then under the porch. I made sure he was plenty far enough away, then lit a soaked rag and tossed it.

The porch went up with a whoosh, although it was barely audible tonight. In seconds, the wind had made the gasoline into a blowtorch and the wooden porch began to burn. We gave it about twenty seconds, then I ran up the steps with Bob, and threw the door open.

"FIRE! FIRE! Everybody out the back door!" We stopped just inside the front door to warn anyone who tried to exit that way, to go out the back. Suddenly, flames began to lick around the door facings and we were suddenly in the position of having to go out the back also. And fairly soon. There were panicky screams from the seven or eight of girls in the barroom, and the bartender suddenly woke from his trance, took one look and headed down the hall.

I ran up the steps and yelled at the top of my lungs. It worked - the hall flooded with more girls.

We knew that besides the bartender, there should be three other goons in the building and about twenty women, including the new madam, whom I had never seen. There was now full scale panic in the building, so counting noses was out of the question. Bob and I stopped shouting and ran down the hall and out the back door. Several people had already exited and were being helped into the truck by Dave and William. And a much shorter individual. Bob jumped into the truck bed and William handed him a long object - a shotgun.

Son of a Bitch! In this wind, the old frame house was going up like a Hindu funeral pyre. In a few minutes, we would have to move the truck to keep it out of the horizontal flames. Dave gave me a five and one sign with his left hand, and a four with the other. Ok, we had all the men and five of the women. More girls came running out of the house, screaming. All ran to the truck as we frantically waved them on.

By now, Bob had lowered the rear canvas flap to keep out some of the wind, but it was a matter of degree only. The four men were wearing loafers, jeans and short sleeved shirts, but the women were wearing standard cunt house harem garments. They would get chilled if somebody turned down the air conditioner - in this wind, they would have frostbite in sixty seconds.

As each woman ran up, I would shine a flashlight into their face, the shorter figure would wave at either the truck or van, and the girl would be shunted to the indicated vehicle.

Now we had to leave. The building was becoming fully engulfed and the flames were being blown along the ground by the wind almost to the truck. Dave and William piled in the passenger's side, and I climbed to the drive's seat, shoved it into first, and hauled ass out of the field and down the road.

I saw the massively overloaded van start moving and knew that Christy would be taking the innocent hookers to the fire station across town to get out of the elements.

In the dark, I could see nothing behind us except the fire and the disappearing lights of the town, but I doubted that anyone would jump out of the truck at fifty miles an hour, no matter how many misgivings they had. The propane heater would be far more attractive than the hellish wind. Besides, Bob was standing beside the rear tailgate holding an automatic shotgun.

Twenty miles up the road - the same one leading to my claim - we turned off on another trail. This was a minor gravel road leading mostly up. In fact, it led to the top of a ridgeback, quite an altitude above the surrounding terrain. In twelve miles or so we pulled up to a small log cabin, on the top of the ridge and in the open. This had been here for decades. Originally built for the use of hunters, I guess, it had been a place for teen beer parties, a lookout for the fire service, more hunters, and once a college sent some students here with a telescope for some kind of observation.

A four star lodging, it wasn't. The glass in the windows had been gone since before I was born, the roof had holes, and, for now, most importantly, it was sitting in the full force of the wind. I backed the truck up, stopped and immediately heard Bob yelling for everybody to get out and get inside the shelter. In the dark, lit only by the single work light on the back of the truck, and in their utter confusion, they did.

Bob gave me the double five high sign - ten people left the doomed whorehouse with us, ten went inside the cabin. He jumped on the running board and I was already in gear and heading down the trail.

Three days later.

The storm had blown out. It was still cold, but outside was almost tropical compared to the last three days. My truck was loaded with supplies. I didn't particularly need any at the claim, but I wasn't going to waste the trip by driving an empty truck back. Down the road, I could see the small pile of ashes and left over metal of appliances where the Peacock used to be. Nobody was the wiser, as far as we knew. By the time our little fire department got on scene, there was nothing they could do. With our town in a continual state of population churn from the oil company personnel coming and going, they had no idea who might have perished in the fire.

The crew met one last time at Stuffer's and we drank to the memory of Doc and Jake and Kat - and all the unknown stiffs that had just wanted some tail, but lost their lives in the pursuit. And the young girls who either wouldn't cooperate with the murderous scheme, or wanted to get out from under it. There was little conversation about what we did. It was done - they deserved it, and besides, we had now saved no telling how many lives in the future from that sadistic bastard and his crew. I knew the other whorehouses in town weren't primarily in business to spread friendship and cheer, and any stiff who went to them to get a piece of ass needed to keep his hand on his wallet. But, while those houses would be concentrating on separating the men from their money, they would do it in the normal way and not by murder and robbery.

I shook hands all around, got in my truck with Dave and started north for the winter. We were quiet, wondering what we would see when we came to the big truck that I had abandoned. As I came around the corner, there it was. I stopped, looked for a minute, then let out the clutch and slowly drove up to it. We were both armed to the teeth, but I knew that there was no miracle in heaven that could have allowed the three lightly clothed men to last out the storm. Or an hour, for that matter.

I stopped, and with every sense on full alert, walked up beside the truck on the drivers side. With my .44 magnum in my hand, I climbed the running board and looked in the window. There was nobody. That is, there was no body.

I motioned Dave up, he looked in and swore. "What the fuck?" We looked around, then got down and explored the surroundings of the truck for a while without finding anything.

"Did they get out and wander off?" I wondered. "Instinct would have been to huddle down in the cab."

Dave was still looking around. "Maybe at the end, they were delirious, and just took off toward some illusion. Hell, you know as well as I do when someone is freezing to death, they see all kinds of things."

I was a mystery that was never solved. To this day, I have never heard of any reports of any remains of a man or men found near these parts. The next summer, though, I did hear that a dozen or so people were found in a hunter's cabin northeast of the town. By the time they were found, the bodies were eaten and scattered by wildlife, but still, after the remains were sent somewhere down the coast, the coroner there had no idea how they died. There wasn't a bone in the lot with bullet damage or knife scrapes or indication of poison or brute force trauma. Another mystery that made headlines for a day or so, then was forgotten.

While I swapped the dead battery out for a fresh one, Dave closed the temporary fuel dump valve, then siphoned diesel from a barrel in my bed to the other's tank. Then as I cranked, he began the purge of the fuel lines and injectors. In a short while, it caught, sputtered, then roared to life. We shook hands, nodded to each other trying to find words, then got in our trucks and started off - me going north and him heading south.

A few miles down the road, I suddenly jumped as someone banged on the back of the cab. Startled, I stomped on the brake, skidded to a stop with my heavy revolver already in my hand, and jumped out of the cab. About halfway to the back of the truck, I suddenly knew who it had to be. Shit! I don't godammned believe this.

Sure enough, climbing over the top of the boxes was Christy. She got to the the back of the truck and climbed down. I just looked at her for a moment, and then said, "This better be good, little girl."

Meekly, she replied. "I don't have anywhere else to go, John. I know that I'm just a hooker, but I also know that you like women. I'm fairly pretty, aren't I? I could keep you warm at nights."

Shit. What did I do now? She was the little sister of a friend. A dead friend. I didn't want to turn her into a kept woman. On the other hand, dumping her back in town to work in another joy house wasn't exactly something that Kat would have wanted, either.

"Bullshit. You're not a hooker. You're a very brave woman who was instrumental in revenging your brother." It was true, I wasn't BS'ing her. "Leave the place. Go south. Find a college and make yourself a career. Your whole life is ahead of you."

"With what? I've got ten bucks to my name." I started to speak but she cut me off. "Kat was a good brother. He took care of me when our parents died in the crash, but he wasn't educated. All he could get was manual labor jobs. We didn't even have a car. College? I didn't even finish high school." Again, I tried to butt in, and again, she desperately kept going.

"John, think about it. Nobody know the fire was set. Yet. And even if they find out, none of you are going to be connected with it. All the girls are going to be able to say is that some men with parkas rescued them. But they KNOW I was there and helping. And the girls are going to blab. Hell, it's the biggest event in their lives. Of course they are. While there're laying on their backs afterward, it's all they will talk about for months."

"And, if somebody decides it was arson, then they are going to want to take that little girl that helped into a back room and ask questions. With a rubber hose, if she doesn't seem to be in a cooperating mood."

I motioned her to the front of the truck and to get in. I followed her and got back in the driver's seat, but didn't drive off. I needed to think.

She wasn't trying to snow me. If she went back to town, then she would almost automatically wind up back in a whorehouse. Or prison as somehow connected to an arson. The joy house might not be the best of the two. It was the only place an uneducated woman could make anything besides minimum wage. Eventually, she would marry some guy with a junker pickup truck, have a passel of kids, and live the life of a minimum wage wife, beaten up every Saturday night after he got in from the bar. Not a pleasant prospect.

I didn't need another girl. The thought had hit me before the operation that all those bitches in the Peacock that had lured the holding customers to their deaths, would make fine gold miners and deserve it. But, I didn't consider it seriously. For one thing, logistics would become a nightmare trying to feed that many mouths on the other end of a two hundred mile supply line. For another, I wouldn't have known what story to tell my friends about where I was taking all these women.

Christy knew to keep quiet as I decided her future. She was old enough that she wasn't jailbait, although that was almost never an issue between consenting couples. Very few kids up here waited for the approval of the law to learn about the birds and bees. What was it to be? We couldn't sit here forever.

Finally...

I looked over at her. "Here's the deal." I could see her in suspense, waiting for my decision. "I already have women at my place. One is a mistress, so to speak, and the others are three girls that were in on the house's scheme. They're serving time for their crimes, so to speak." Her eyes definitely got larger at this point. "You do what I say, when I say and how I say. This bargain is totally one sided, but it's up to you. I can take you back to town, if you want. And give, or loan, you enough money to get the hell out of there and someplace that you can try to reestablish yourself." I waited.

She smiled, trying to keep from breaking down and crying. In a small voice, she said, "Let's go. It's getting late."

The cache

We stopped a couple of hours away for lunch - and a pee break. I only had one sandwich, but I shared it with her. By now, I was in a better mood and so was she. It was too cold to get out and stroll around, but the cab was nice and toasty so we just sat and ate after our break for nature's call. As we finished the little meal, I noticed her looking at me with a... quizzical? smile.

"What?" I asked.

She began to unbutton her blouse - we had removed out cold weather clothes after our break outside - and said, "Would you like to try me now? You need to know what you're getting." She lowered her head and looked at me under her eyebrows. "If I'm no good, you can just chuck me out afterward to the wolves. Nobody will ever know."

Holy shit! Another submissive woman! No, I decided. She was just being catty. What the heck. The girl was going to be another squeeze in a household full of women on demand. There was no reason for me not to sample the new candy.

The truck had a full bench seat, but I wasn't exactly dressed for a quick bang. It took a while for the boots and socks to come off, then the jeans and shirt, but finally, we were naked and prone on the seat. She WAS pretty. Not nearly as full breasted as Millie, but nice for all of that. And she might have been working in the joy house for revenge, but she HAD learned a thing or two. She definitely wasn't the normal young girl whose total ability was to wet down her partners tool, then lay back and let him do the work.

In a while, I was laying on her in a contented sweat, enjoying the aftermath, but when I tried to rise and pull out, she just held on tight and said, "Not yet. Please." I think she was just overwhelmed to suddenly realize that she wasn't still out in the world on her own - no small thing for a very young, penniless girl with an incomplete education and with her entire family dead and gone.

So, I laid there a while more while my dong slowly retracted on its own. Finally, I said, "We have to go. It's only a couple more hours to my home."

She let go, we got up, dressed and started on our way.

Home

It had happened before, so Millie wasn't totally surprised to have me show up with another woman. She was startled at the new occupant's youth, though. On the way I had explained the workings of my home and enterprise, so Christy wasn't taken aback by the nudity in the cavern. In fact, she easily slipped out of her clothes and thought no more about it. After a shower, and a meal, I sat down on the sofa with my pair of squeezes - Christy had become my squeeze, no other term for it - and told the story. The other three girls were sitting on their mats, one reading, the other two playing a card game. Of course, while I was gone, no mining took place, since I wasn't there to do any blasting. They had had a long vacation - one that would end tomorrow morning.

I was winding down. It had been a long trip as usual, following an even and more exciting experience in town. Tonight I would sample my new young addition to the fold again, and tomorrow, start back in the ordinary routines. That is, relax and watch while my three female criminals served out their time down the mine shaft. Maybe I would make Christy the straw boss.

A lot had happened that I needed to think over. I was still young, and suddenly, the idea so spending my life in a hole in the ground, however nice and comfortable, didn't seem to be quite as desirable as before. I knew now, that since gold had become legal for ordinary Americans to own, it would probably increase in price for the long future. I would start mining in earnest. Even if I didn't come to the putative mother load, I could still pull out enough to become a very wealthy man in a few years. I could cash it in, hire a professional money manger and live the good life around the world.

In the dim light, I lay back on the pillow and watched one set of young tits climb onto the bed on one side, and another and older set climb up on the other. It was a good plan to start with. A few years of work, then a lifetime of... of... well, doing whatever I wanted.

But for now, I had four dangling titties to have to deal with.