Date: Fri, 7 Dec 2001 23:33:12 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Outcast of Lonely Rock, Chapter 1

		  THE OUTCAST OF LONELY ROCK, CHAPTER ONE
		 "On Taking the Stagecoach to Lonely Rock"
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     [This story is less an historical novel than it is a tribute to all
those movies that my mother watched afternoons and weekends for as long as
I can remember. I've seen so many of them while growing up, I could do this
story in my sleep! Thanks, Mom!] 

				 * * * * *

     The small stagecoach they used for the trip to Lonely Rock was even
worse than the larger coach I had ridden to get to the last
way-station. The station manager had taken one look at me, the sole
passenger who was continuing on west to Lonely Rock, and said to his
driver, "Take the Light-Mail Concord instead of the Full Concord." He
motioned to two black men, who obediently went out to load the smaller
stagecoach and hitch up the team.
     The driver protested. "Aw, hell, Frank, why don't we lay over another
day and see if we can get at least another passenger?"
     "You're just saying that because you know those saloon ladies are
coming through here pretty soon." the manager retorted.
     "Well, what if I am?" the driver fired back.
     "Hoping to get them all alone out on the plains?"
     "I hear tell they wouldn't mind." the driver said, smiling slyly.
     "They probably wouldn't." the manager admitted. "Especially if you was
to rescue them from some bloodthirsty Indians that aren't even out
there. But I do. There's a special delivery letter going to King Carson in
Lonely Rock, so hitch up the team and get going."
     "Don't I even get a shotgun?" the driver wasn't referring to the
weapon, but an armed rider along to help guard him on the trail. We'd had
two of them along on the ride to Dodge City.
     "You don't need one. Bandits come along, just give them everything
they ask you for. Help them carry it back to their hide-out, even." the
manager said. "Now move your lazy hide on out of here!"
     "All right, all right." the driver muttered. Then he glared at
me. "Come on, kid, grab your chuck and let's get hauling."
     "Yes, sir." I said, picking up my carpetbag and walking after him,
trying to act like I'd been on the plains as long as he had. I had bought
my clothes back in Kansas City, and felt like a real wrangler in my riding
boots, leather vest and bolo tie with a turquoise stone nearly covering the
silver clasp. I'd had to stop at these three items, and didn't have a hat
yet, but all of them were things I could wear every day, and maybe then
people wouldn't notice that the pants and shirt that went with them were
strictly Eastern city wear. But from the motley assortment of clothing I'd
seen so far, I wasn't much worried about that, either.
     I had already found out the reason they all wore a kerchief around
their neck (I didn't wear one because I didn't want to cover up the tie);
as soon as we had gotten out into the plains of western Kansas. The team of
horses hauling the stagecoach threw up a horrible amount of dust that all
seemed to come inside the coach and land on your face. Soon after we left
the way station, I dug my kerchief out of my pocket and tied it around my
nose and mouth, to help block the dust. It did help, some, and I thought
back to my reading of the dime novels and the bandits that would wear the
kerchief to hide their features when they robbed you. God, I was going
right out into the middle of them, now! I'd have to get me a gun and learn
how to use it!
     I was alone in the stagecoach; so I put my thumb and forefingers out,
pretending they were a pair of pistols and I amused myself playing bandit,
having a shoot-out with the invisible enemy out on the empty land; every
rock and rabbit came under my gun and died at a single shot in my mind's
eye. A child's game, foolish in a young man of eighteen years (my age), but
I had nothing better to do, this trip would go on for another four hours,
and now I was out in the very territory I'd been reading about for years, I
was looking at hills and plains that looked like they had come straight out
of those novels.
     I was heading West to make my fortune. I was in luck, in that my uncle
had a ranch not far from Lonely Rock, and he had written that he could use
some help, especially help he didn't have to pay; so I could live with him,
learn how to herd the longhorns they raised out on this dry land, and then
strike out and find some land of my own to stake a claim to. A few years of
hard work and I'd be sitting pretty on my own ranch, just like Uncle Edgar.
     But the scenery didn't change much and I was tired, I fell asleep as
much as anyone can while being heavily jostled, less a sleep than a sort of
stupor, and I was like that for I don't know how long, the monotony of the
ride and view leaving nothing else to do.
     "Ho, ho, ho-o-o-o-o-oh!" the driver called out and the stagecoach
slowed. I roused, leaned out of the window, and my eyes darned near popped
out of my head.
     Bandits, real ones! Two of them, kerchiefs over their faces, pistols
drawn, astride a pair of horses in the road ahead! I ducked back in,
waiting for the gunfire to start.
     But the driver just rode up slow to them and stopped the wagon. I
heard the clop of the two horses of the bandits, and then saw part of one
of them, just the flank of the horse and his leg and boot in stirrup. I
didn't dare poke my head out of the stagecoach to see any better, a man
could get shot that way. God, don't let them take my bag, I had hidden my
money in its bottom through a loose seam; it was all I had!
     The driver's spoken response startled me. "You've come up dry this
trip." he said, as casually as if he knew those men. "Payroll isn't for
another week, you know."
     "You got passengers?" came the laconic query.
     The driver cackled. "So that's what you were after! Well, the ladies
haven't arrived at Evanston station yet. I wanted to wait another day for
those fillies, myself."
     "Who's in the coach?"
     "Just some kid and the cargo's only goods for the general store. And
the mail, of course, I got a special delivery letter for King Carson if you
think you want that. It's the reason they put me on this old rattletrap and
sent me out today. But if it had money inside it, don't you think they'd've
given me a shotgun?"
     I looked and saw a pistol point down into the stagecoach with me, not
aiming at me or I would have pissed my pants. It waggled towards the
outside. "All right, you in there, come on out."
     I gulped and got to my feet. I heard the cargo on top of the wagon
being taken down. My bag was up there; I just had to hope that they
wouldn't want it.
     I stepped down, stumbling on the steps with the new boots, and the
bandit laughed. "Hey, we got a real city slicker here, all duded up to be a
cowboy!" he hooted to his companion on the other side.
     I looked up into that face, so far as I could see it behind the
mask. The man wasn't more than a handful of years older than me, but he
held that gun and rode that saddle like he was used to it.
     "Why you headed into Lonely Rock, kid?" he asked me.
     I thought about not answering, but a gun makes you willing to answer
personal questions, especially when the business end is pointed at
you. "Going to live with my uncle on his ranch."
     "So that's why you bought the boots. And that tie, you get that off a
redskin?"
     "I bought it in Kansas City." I said.
     "It's a right pretty tie, boy."
     "Yes, I guess it is." I gulped. "You want it?"
     He seemed to consider it, and then shook his head. "Well, our problem
is that we came here to rob this stagecoach, and there isn't anything worth
having inside it." he said. His eyes burned into me. "We had planned on
taking those three painted ladies King Carson is trucking in for his
saloon, and having a bit of fun with them before we let them go."
     The other bandit had finished with the cargo on top of the stagecoach,
he rode over. "Think he's got any money?" the second bandit said. He was
older behind the mask, perhaps into his thirties, somehow both calmer and
more dangerous than the first. The first bandit had nervous energy, he
waved that gun about like a kid with a candy stick, but the second one
seemed able to calmly put his gun to the side of your head and pull the
trigger.
     "Nah. This is a dry hole." the first one said.
     "So what do you want to do?" the second one said.
     The driver lifted his pistol up to his neck, used the sight on the
barrel's tip to scratch the itch. He did this for a time, while he
pondered, looking at me. "Driver, unhitch the team." he said after a time.
     "Huh? Whut fur?" the driver asked, puzzled.
     "Get on one of those horses and take them on into Lonely Rock. You can
take that letter of King Carson with you, tell him it's with our
compliments. You can come back out for the stagecoach tomorrow. We'll be
done searching it by then. We see you turn around, we'll fill you full of
lead, so just go on into Lonely Rock and come back for it tomorrow."
     I moved to join the driver, and the bandit said, "Hold it, kid."
     I stopped. "What is it?" I said. "Don't I go with the driver?"
     "Nope. Got other plans for you." he said.
     There was silence, while the driver unhitched the horses, didn't
bother unhitching them from each other, just got on the left lead horse and
rode them like that, the four horses still strung together, now in a line,
moving on down the road, still churning up a lot more than their fair share
of dirt.
     "What do you want with the kid?" the second bandit asked.
     "What do you think?" the first one said, throwing a broad wink at me
over his kerchief. "Got no painted ladies in this wagon, but we got this
here kid. Looks kind of pretty, too, don't you think?"
     The second bandit looked down at me, and I gulped. "Yep, I reckon he's
better than visiting Ms. Rosy Palm." he said.
     That's when I turned and ran, straight away from the coach, not
knowing if they'd pump lead into my back or just let me run out onto the
plains. But I heard a whoop from a male throat, and the pound of hooves,
and then a body tackled me from behind; the first bandit had ridden after
me and jumped me from off his horse, and now I was face-down in the dirt
and dust, struggling and flailing away with my hands, trying to fight, but
I was pinned and helpless. His partner came over and dismounted, and I gave
up when I felt the second pair of hands grab me.
     "Let me go!" I begged them. "Please, let me go!"
     "Yeah, he's a feisty one all right. The ones that struggle with you
make for the best fuck when you get it into them." the first bandit
laughed.
     "Been a while since I last had me a man's pussy." the second one said.
     I started struggling and squirming again, and the first bandit
cursed. "Damn it all, get over here and help me hold him."
     The second bandit snagged both of my arms and I felt my pants being
yanked bodily down my legs. It squeezed my hips, then a couple of buttons
burst loose from their holes and he had the pants down to my knees, almost.
     "Hey, looky here, no long-johns." the first bandit said. "Just a bare
ass ready for the fucking."
     I heard the hawk of spit and I began to squirm again. "No, please,
no!" I begged them. I got up as far as my knees, my head still pressed down
into the dirt for the second bandit had my arms by the biceps, and while I
hauled with my hips, trying to leverage myself free from this grip on my
arms, I felt a hot roundness press against my anus. Oh, my God! In trying
to get away, I had exposed myself to this other bandit, gotten up on my
knees, made it easy for him!
     He had rubbed some spit onto his cock, it was sticky wet I could feel,
but that didn't help much. He shoved with his hips and I yelled into the
ground, picked up a tongue-full of dust and choked and spit, spluttering in
pain all the while, choking. It felt like his cock was the size of his arm,
it was huge and wide and felt like it was splitting me like an ax splits
firewood.
     "O-o-oh!" I grunted, still spitting dust. "O-o-oh!" The dust muffled
me and made my cries ineffectual.
     Grabbing me by my waist with two rough-skinned, calloused palms and
holding me firmly in place, the first bandit shoved at me again! This time,
I felt a tearing, a hot wetness in my bowels and I realized he had ripped
me inside somehow. And if I had thought the pain was bad before, it was
nothing to what I had experienced now, I managed a real yowl of agony even
with a tongue still smeared with dirt.
     "Come on, shove it on in him!" the second bandit said. "Hurry up, I
get to use him next!"
     When I heard that, all the fight went out of me. I had to not only get
through this, but then have the whole thing happen all over again right
after! I sagged down and my face landed in the dust, but this time I didn't
care.
     The first bandit was making hunches in and out of my ass now, and I
felt hot slickness all along it, my blood, I was sure. It was a hot sting,
sort of bright and clean in the way it felt but not those words in a good
way, bright in the way it seared me constantly, clean in the way it had no
edges or areas of lesser pain, it was all pain, a desolate expanse of agony
with a single shining crystal up on top of it, not like the sun, but the
moon, a cooler, kinder light.
     "Oh, yeah, we got us a virgin butt here." the first bandit
crooned. "Going to take my time with this bit of ass."
     "Shit, Farley, hurry up, I'm horny, too, you know!" the second bandit
grumbled. "We saw that coach and I thought this is it, those women are on
board and I'll get me all the action I need, maybe keep one of them for a
few days."
     The first bandit continued his slower assault on my anus, and now the
last bits of my body had ripped aside for him, now he was fucking into me
without any resistance from my intestines, and that caused the pain to ease
some. And that crystal of light was shining brighter than ever, now. It
felt so good, that little spot of pleasure in this sea of anguish.
     "Damn, Farley, don't take all day!"
     "Don't say my name, you nitwit!" Farley snarled at him. I had a name
for one of my assailants.
     "Who's he going to tell?" the second said without concern.
     "You wouldn't be saying that if he knew your name...Nathan." Farley
said.
     The second bandit--Nathan--grunted. "Okay, we're square now. Just
don't tell him our last names, no reason to make it any easier on the law
than it'll already be."
     "We can kill him when we're done." Farley pointed out.
     "No!" I said. "I won't talk! Honest, I won't ever say a word to
anyone!"
     "Of course not." Farley said soothingly. "I believe you. Pretty boy
like you, you probably love the way my dick feels inside you, don't you?"
And now, from being slow in the way he fucked me, he began to move his hips
in almost a dance, the cock was rubbing inside of me in a way it hadn't
before, somehow. Almost...loving. And that crystal of pleasure...now it
burned.
     "Uh...yeah." I settled for saying.
     "Feels pretty nice, the way it slides in and out, doesn't it, kid?"
     "Ye-ahh!" I said, not intending the languid response he got, but just
at the time I said the word, his cock somehow contacted that crystal of
pleasure and it blazed inside me.
     "Oh, you like that, huh?" Farley moved his body and now his cock was
right upon that little spot of joy, stroking it alive with every movement.
     "Ooh, uh, uh, huhhhhh!" I groaned.
     "See, Nate, he's not going to tell on us. Haven't met a young lad yet
who wouldn't croon with pleasure after a bit of riding. You can turn loose
of him now, Nate, he ain't going anywhere."
     "Fine." grunted Nate. "Since you plan to fuck him a while, I'll let
him get to work on greasing me up for when it's my turn."
     He let go of me and I rose up, feeling the way that this movement sent
Farley's prong deeper into me, accenting the touch of his cock on that one
spot of pleasure in this humiliating experience. I hawked and spit the last
of the dust out, and looked up at brown trousers and sunbrowned hands that
fumbled at the buttons on it.
     Nate's cock jumped out as he got the buttons free, and with it was a
burst of heavy, almost rancid male odor. His cock was like him, a heavy
dark-skinned mass of maleness, almost gray-colored, with a disgusting bulb
of foreskin at the base of the cock, where it turned inside out showing the
veins inside.
     "Come on, kid, slick it up good and it won't hurt as bad going in."
Nate growled at me and again I was struck at how little concern he had for
my life, my rights.
     "Damn it, kid, get to sucking it!" Nate snarled and he shoved that
huge, pungent blob of his cock at me.
     I had to; I took it in my mouth, gagging at the strength of its taste,
how that odor of his cock translated into a foul pool on my tongue, seeping
into me, and then Nate hunched with his hips and his cock rolled on its
foreskin which clung to my tongue, and that cockhead rammed against the
back of my throat and stayed there, a heavy malodorous monster inside me.
     I clutched his cock with my lips, knowing what he needed and only
wanting to get this over with, and his foreskin balled up against my teeth
as he pulled his cock back out, skinning the foreskin back over the glans
and then his hands clasped the back of my head and he began to fuck at my
face.
     I was being compressed between these two horny studs, Farley
continuing to ram his cock into my ass with an increasing intensity, and
now Nate was pushing into my mouth at the same time. I was buffeted between
them, which they settled by falling into a mutual rhythm, both plunging
into me at the same time, and then withdrawing, so that my body perforce
remained still, and so they were able to quench their animal lusts upon my
helpless body.
     It was like my soul, driven to this new and alien domain, strove for a
new balance here, and suddenly it was as if I had been transported to a new
world. Not one better than the old, nor even one filled with evil, but
rather one where the rules were different and the requirements of my life
were changed, as if, transported to an Indian camp and turned into an
Indian, it would be necessary to dance wearing a loincloth and feather in
my hair, around a blazing fire with a bow in my hand, chanting.
     In this new world of mine, the lusts of the body were supreme and my
spirit, to live in this new land, accepted this requirement. The cool, kind
light within my nether regions flamed now with desire, and the heavy,
rancid cock in my mouth became less an intruder and now a guest, not friend
but as the hotel admits strangers and makes them comfortable, so did my
mouth strive to please this fleshy visitor.
     I clutched at his cock and found my saliva pouring over it, and this
turned my mouth into a moist moor in which this bandit's pud could now
tread with soft steps in the yielding terrain.
     "Ah, damn, kid, you're a good cocksucker." growled Nate. "Come on,
milk it for me."
     And I was rewarded for my effort by his holding still, permitting me
to service him rather than have him force me, and that made it better for
me, believe me, at least now I wasn't pummeled with this cockhead, I could
pleasure it on my terms. So I did, I gripped his foreskin with my lips
tight and I pulled heartily at it until the cockhead was almost leaving my
mouth, then I would plunge back down onto his shaft, sending it thrilling
into my warm interior.
     I also began to hump back against Farley, and that gave the spot of my
innards even more stimulation, so that it was now pleasing to me to have
this young rough stud's cock inside of me, pumping in and out of me, and I
felt my own body stir and heat from the shared lust.
     "See, this young fuck's getting into it." panted Farley. "They all
love it when I shove it into him."
     "He's good at this end, too." Nate agreed.
     "Not going to kill this one." Farley said. "Going to pay him visits in
Lonely Rock."
     "Sounds good to me, long as he don't blab."
     "How's he going to talk with your cock in his mouth?" chuckled Farley.
     "Damn, I'm about to blow my nuts." Nate groaned.
     "Fill the little fucker full, make him swallow all of it." Farley
urged him. "I'll pump his ass full and then we'll own this little
fuck-hole; he'll be branded for life." And Farley leaned over, I felt his
clothed shirt and vest upon my back, and he grunted in my ear as his hand
found my cock, began to jack it up and down in time to his strokes. "Yeah,
you're getting hot for us, aren't you? Going to want us every night, won't
you?" he breathed in my ear, his heavy sobs of breath like the whufs of a
rutting boar. And this, too, was a part of my new world.
     "Uh-huh." I grunted my assent.
     "Want Nate at the same time, don't you?" Nate's cock was a fiery
branding iron in my mouth, he was beginning to hunch at me again, caught up
in his need and increasing pleasure.
     "Uh-huh."
     "Oh, yeah!" that turned Farley on, he was suddenly wild with his
desire, he began to hunch at me with the ferocity of a rabbit atop the doe,
his breaths were heavy explosions of sound in my ear, and his hand pumped
my cock. "Ah-ah, uh-uh-u-u-u-u-uh!" he blasted his noise of lust into my
ear.
     "Come on, shoot him full." Nate groaned. "Got to let go now!"
     "Yeah, good, uh-uh-GUH-KKKUKKKKHHH!" Farley roared and I felt it then,
the very first time, the slashing sting of salty sperm as it plunged into
my ravaged anus, impacting and scorching the tortured, torn flesh, searing
me like a brand.
     And Nate found incitement in his partner's climax, he, too gave a
muted grunt and then I felt his prong pouring a thick flood of scalding
seed onto my tongue, and their words of branding me took on their meaning
to me, for I felt thoroughly and irrevocably marked by this violation.
     In this despair of the spirit, my body seized control and declared its
anarchistic lusts, my cock without my volition or desire, suddenly rose up
into the moment of ejaculation, and I was mauled thereby, I could only
grunt, choking on sperm that slid down my throat whether I willed it or no,
feeling the jism in my ass insert itself into me through the tears in my
bowels, and now my own cock burst out and splattered the dusty plains earth
below me and marked the ultimate in my humiliation. The bandits were right,
I couldn't tell of this, not with my own sperm declaring my willing
body. How could I claim rape now, I had been betrayed by my own self! I
panted around Nate's spent and deflating cock (he would not yet permit me
to relinquish it), and only when I was thoroughly drained and exhausted,
weak from the ordeal with my body wanting only to sink down, was I released
by these men.
     "Damn good fuck." Farley said as he got up, and I saw his cock as he
tucked it back into his pants, marveling at its cleanliness, for I expected
to see it splattered with my blood. "Just keep your lip locked up about
this back in Lonely Rock, and we'll do the same."
     "If you don't, we'll plug you." Nate said.
     Farley laughed a hard, mean laugh. "And it won't be with this." and he
grabbed his crotch lewdly. "It'll be a .45 slug between your eyes."
     "So keep quiet." Nate warned me.
     "I will. I promise." I said, my fears renewed. Dead men tell no tales,
and not here in this wilderness with none to see their actions. I had no
hopes that the coach driver would do anything but as he had been advised,
to return the next day for the coach. No doubt, if I stayed with the coach,
I would be allowed to finish my ride.
     I lay there as they walked away, back to the coach, not moving,
feeling more violated than if I had felt nothing but pain. They had taken
more than my money, more than my body, they had taken...they had taken
everything. I had been changed beyond redemption by their rough hands, I
could now only live this new life as best I could.
     The bandits were now going through the boxes of the coach, hoping I
guess to find something more than the dried beans, bolts of cloth, nails
and horse-tonics that were in them. They found my carpetbag, and took out
my clothes, dumping them on the dust, and then shook my bag out while
upside-down, but then they dropped it and went on to the next.
     I thought about that bag, but to get it, I would have had to go up to
those men, those hard men, and I couldn't, I just couldn't. Instead, I got
to my feet, hitched my pants up with difficulty (it was like they didn't
want to return to covering my soiled body) and got them buttoned, and began
to walk away. Not up the road toward Lonely Rock, not back towards
Evanston, just out into the plains, away from these men and that coach. I
kept on walking, not looking back, until a long time later. I could just
see the coach in the distance and the men still at it. I turned and walked
on, and the sun began to beat heavily on my brow. I knew I was walking out
into a wilderness, out into danger.
     And I just didn't care.

			    END OF CHAPTER ONE

[This story has eight chapters in all and I will post one chapter each
weekend.]

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