Snow Angel

Alaskan Territory, 1879

Tuwaluk smiled broadly as she took in a deep breath and felt the raw cold enter her lungs and swirl around in a little eddy. She had a lot to be thankful for lately. Since leaving Nome an hour ago, the wooden runners of her dog sled had not bounded over a single rock, but instead found the snow to be deep, slick and smooth. Zipping along the wilderness trail at a respectable clip, Tuwaluk heard the sitka spruce runners make a constant unwavering whoosh as they passed over the snow. None of the nine dogs ahead of her barked as they made their traverse through the snow, but she could see their breaths in the form of vapor clouds as they panted at the strain, but knew they were thrilled at the run they were making as well.

In front of her, and strapped tightly to her sled, were the equipment and supplies of the new miners, not nearly enough to provide all the new white men that were digging up the sandy beach and panning for shiny metal flakes. “Gold,” the strange men from far away called it, and while none of her Eskimo family cared about the useless dirt, using their dog sleds to move their freight would net them two new rifles, which would make her father and her brother’s daily hunts so much easier. Tuwaluk smiled at the trade as she peddled up a small incline on the frozen tundra as dog sledding was second nature to her. Just being able to take her dogs for a two-hour run would have been worth it, though trading a half dozen trips for two rifles almost seemed like stealing to her.

This was her third trip, and she had already gotten to know the trail pretty well. It wound its way from Nome and then inland a bit, and then across the tundra to a point of land on the coast that was forty miles north of anyone else’s claim. Two white men had made their claim there, as gold in the sandy beach in Nome was steadily becoming harder to find. Tuwaluk doubted that gold existed on their newly staked ground, but she was not about to inform the two strange men of her suspicions. Instead, she would complete three more runs, collect her two rifles and then please her father with her gift to the family.

Tuwaluk ran behind the dog sled pushing as hard as she could to crest the hill knowing that for the next mile, it was a gentle down hill grade. She jumped on the runners and hollered at her lead dog, Kimbundu, to break out into a run so the heavily laden sled would not run into the back of the last dogs.

Kimbundu instantly reacted to her calls, just as she knew she would, and began to pull at the gangline, in turn guiding the other eight dogs as their harnesses strained and the dogsled began to move faster and faster down the grade and closer towards the flat frozen muskeag land at the bottom of the grade. As she neared it, Tuwaluk saw a strange sight in this frozen wasteland of the frozen north. Two wooden poles stuck out of the snow on each side of the trail. As she neared it, the tan hemp rope stretched between them was nearly invisible to see until it passed just over the head of Kimbudu.

Tuwaluk ducked, but her reaction was far slower than the speed in which the dogsled was traveling and she knew she was in trouble when she heard the rope sing as it stretched across the branchbows of her dogsled just before it caught her square in the chest. She was instantly catapulted backwards and sent sprawling into a heap in the cold snow. Dazed by the sudden turn of events, Tuwaluk took a moment to collect herself, and then pawed her way up through the snow expecting to see her dogs and attached dogsled running off into the distance. She was not worried. She had confidence in her training, and in her lead dog to know that they would soon miss her commands and return to find her. When she pushed a patch of cold snow away from her face however, what she saw completely surprised her.

Two cheechekos, white men she had never laid eyes on before, had snubbed her dogsled up short not more than three hundred yards from her. Now the one farthest from her was trudging up through the snow towards Kimbundu. In his tightly gripped wool knitted hands was a long hunting knife, and he had it raised up high and about ready to lash out.

Tuwaluk screamed out loud, for the moment forgetting that they did not understand her native Eskimo language. It did not matter. Her scream caused them to look in her direction and notified them that she was alive. Still the knife in his hand plunged downward, and before Tuwaluk could scream again, the deed was done. Or at least the task the white man wanted to complete.

Tuwaluk expected the sharp knife to be slid across her dog’s throat to keep him from barking and gnashing with his teeth, but instead the knife only parted the gangline. The man gripped the harness tightly and began tugging the stately dog towards his own dogsled. Tuwaluk saw it now to her left as she scrambled to right herself in the deep snow and head towards her favorite dog. She knew in an instant that the two men had no inclination to kill her dog, but to steal it from her. Theft of dogs was growing more and more common as the more and more white men moved into the area.

“No,” she screamed, remembering her English now as she prepared to fight for her dog. “He’s mine. I have trained her for many, many months. You cannot have her.”

“Shut up, you Eskimo bitch,” the second man said as he ran to intercept her. Tuwaluk faked a run to the right, and ducked quickly to the left, a move that outwitted the man, but her physical ability was what enabled her to skirt past him in the deep snow even though he lunged quite humorously at her. Ordinarily she would have laughed, but she was intent on keeping her dog team intact, and was not about to let any cheechakos take any of them from her.

Avoiding a big clumsy white man in the deep Alaskan snow was one thing, however, grasping her dog by the harness and wrenching it free from the second man was another. He was bigger than the first, but not necessarily fat. He held firmly onto the dogs harness as well and gripped her hand and squeezed it until the pain overcame her anger and she felt the bones begin to cave under the mans amazing grip. With a scream she let go, just as the second man scrambled through the snow to grab her from behind and throw her into the snow. She sprawled backwards and lay on her back as he knelt to deliver her a hard blow to cheek. Tuwaluk kicked, pummeled and clawed at the man in her defense, but he still managed to land two hard slaps to her face despite her revolving, defiant limbs.

“You snow bitch!” he growled when one of her fingernails connected just right into his forearm and cut him. Seeing the blood, he went to hit her again, but his punch glanced off her arm this time and landed harmlessly into her clothing. Or at least harmless in regards to pain, for when the punch landed, his balled up hand caught on the seam of her caribou clothing and tore the hide from her torso revealing her rather large fleshy breasts.

For a second, time ceased to exist. Tuwaluk was just as shocked at her disrobement as he was, and it took a second for her to recover from the shock to throw the caribou hide back over her bare chest. It was not from the Alaskan cold that made her cover herself back up, but from an ashamed feeling that she had never felt before. Even in her native Alaskan culture, to be showing a man her charms was forbidden and to be showing them for the first time to a white man was even worse.

“Take that back off,” he demanded now, though Tuwaluk noticed that his eyes and demeanor had changed. She only shook her head in defiance, and gripped her caribou hide even tighter out of fear.

The commotion had caused the second man to turn his attention to her plight and watched as her face was slapped again. It was a calculated move, and as Tuwaluk went to cover her face from the blows, he took her defenseless clothing and flung it open for his partner to see.

“It’s has been a long time my friend,” he said with an evil smile as he swooped down to grab her hands and pin them high above her head. Tuwaluk knew what the two men were referring too. She had never been wed and thus never had been taken by a man, but had caught her parents twice in the throes of passion and understood its meaning. She had also been warned by her father and brother to stay clear of the white man for that very reason and now looked up at them in fear.

The man holding her arms above her head tossed the very knife that he had used to cut her lead dog from the gangline to his friend. Helpless now, Tuwaluk felt powerless as he cut the remaining caribou hide that clung to the young Eskimo’s torso. It parted easily under the blade of such a sharp knife, though the caribou hide that made up her leggings took a lot more effort. Still, in a matter of minutes, Tuwaluk’s clothing was severed like a freshly field dressed caribou and she was laid out upon it to protect her fragile body from having to come in contact with the snow. Still, a cold chill began to overtake her.

The exposed Native Alaskan looked much different to the two men then the two dollar whores they had bought in San Francisco just before leaving for the gold rush to Alaska. She had short brown hair for starters, was perhaps twenty with a muscular build from years of the hard work and the nomadic lifestyle her people lived. Now nude except for her mukluks, she lay sprawled out on a carpet of caribou hides and let the men stare at the first naked Eskimo girl they had ever seen.

She was far from the ideal, slender whores they were used to, for she was stocky and bristling with muscles. Her cheek bones were also high, giving her face a pudgy look that was heightened by her short cropped hair. Her skin was lacked the pale, translucent look that the San Frisco woman displayed, since she spent every day outside exposed to the ungodly cold. Wind-burned and weathered, it looked more like leather than it did soft skin. Still she had what they so desperately needed, a receptacle for their passion.

One man knelt by her head, his heavy pack boots pinning her muscular arms to the makeshift caribou hide mattress as his partner grabbed her feet and forced open her legs. He smiled as he gripped her thighs, for unlike the whores in the United States, he legs were slender and well-muscled, with not an ounce of fat to be found. They were stretched out for what seemed like miles on the snow.

“Nice legs anyway,” the man said as Tuwaluk screamed out to the emptiness of the Alaskan wilderness.

“Scream, scream, my Eskimo whore. No one will hear you out here. No one,” he repeated and waited for her to see the futility of trying to pry an arm or a leg from out from under the two men’s grasp.

“Please don’t,” she spoke in plain English, as if using their own language would convince them to stop what they were about to do. “Please don’t,” she constantly spewed out of her mouth as if she thought that words would protect her any more than her tied up dogs would help her. Only the ever present north wind greeted her ears as she waited for a reply to her screams. None of the dogs bayed or even barked at her cries, and certainly there was no sound of wooden runners on snow either. No one knew she was here, for her freight hauling business was a secret in exchange for a present her father and brother would have to have in their hands to appreciate. Even the two men never spoke, to each other or to her, instead letting the solitude of the great north speak volumes for her helplessness.

She waited patiently for her rape, splayed out on top of the caribou hides, the cold creeping in from the snow below as she trembled, but remained silent as the hardy mountain man loomed over her, his torrid intentions ever so clear as he pulled off the layers of woolen clothing. Even here he was careful, tough enough to travel the many miles by steamship to Alaska, but not so tough that he would take his clothing all the way off. Just down to his knees, this was all that was required for his needs. She was not even allowed the modesty of having her feet covered. The man enjoyed the seductive curve of a woman’s foot, and pulled her mukluks off her feet and tossed them unceremoniously into the deep, frigid snow.

Posed as he was, that being nude from his waist to his knees, and being in close proximity to her legs, he took the liberty of forcing her feet far apart and maneuvered himself so that he was hovering over the defenseless virgin Alaskan Native. As the cold north wind whipped at his genitals, he quit all efforts at foreplay and positioned his cock as best he could. With no warning, he simply moved his arms out from under himself and dropped upon her, driving his shaft into her giving her no option but to submit. The sudden pressure of having all his weight upon her took the wind out of her lungs and she sucked in a deep breath just as she was impaled.

Her only savior was the snow that now crumpled and compressed below her caribou hides. It settled, but with it, so did the man on top of her and she felt this shaft begin to penetrate her and sink within her with no regard for her own admittance. It also burned, a stark contrast from the cold snow that was only separated by the thickness of the caribou hides. She cried and screamed beneath him, even bit into his shoulder to try and stem his hard thrusts into her, but the man was only spurred onward by her actions. He could feel her begin to open for him, if only for a bit, and then reached her virginity. At this he grinned, looking her in the eyes at the pleasure of knowing he would always be her first lover. Then he thrust, driving her back deeper into the snow so that she was pinned at an odd angle. He thrust again and felt the hymen being parted, then the ooze of warm blood and his shaft sank straight into the young snow whore even if he was taking her virginity.

From where he knelt above her, the second man could see the snow beneath her pelvis begin to turn pink with blood. He knew her virginity had been taken, but also knew his partners wrath and chose to remain quiet about the knowledge. As it was, he could see his friend become absorbed in the additional pleasure and watched as he looked into her pain riddled eyes and mocked her with indifference. When the woman tried to look away, he gripped her pudgy cheeks with his hands and snarled at her, forcing her to stare up at him as he prepared to plant his Caucasian seed in the young Eskimo’s womb.

“Fucking snow whore,” he snarled again, enjoying his degrading words as her body slowly began to accept her fate and began to go limp beneath him. “That’s it, bitch, accept it. Take it, hell you might just enjoy it,” he said and gave her another hard thrust that surprised her. She cringed at the ploy, but let it buck inside her and patiently waited for him to finish.

The man holding her arms noted his own grip could be relaxed and knew his friend could not hold back for long. It had been months since they had been with a woman, any woman, and being a tight, untouched woman would only spur him onward. His thought had hardly entered his head when he watched his friend close his eyes, bang into her pelvis with one more hard, impatient thrust, and then groaned wholeheartedly into her horrified face.

Tuwauk felt the last thrust and expected the worse. A second later she was greeted with the rush of hot semen being jettisoned inside of her for the first time. I was not the pleasure she had imagined, but hot and sticky, but thankfully coated her bruised and irritated vaginal walls. Her indignation was not quite done however. He brought his bearded face down close to hers and began to pepper her face with kisses, even slipping the tip of his tongue into her mouth to further mock her even as he went limp within her. Only then did he roll off her shivering body.

“Your first go-round is always painful my dear, but you will soon learn to enjoy it,” he scoffed and then turned to look at his partner. It was only a look, but already the man was tugging at his belt and pulling his woolen pants down to his knees.

As his shaft sprung free, Tuwaluk marveled at its size. The first man had managed to keep his genitals from being reviewed, but at this new sight, Tuwaluk realized why she was so sore. She had seen male babies in her village, but she never realized that it increased its size with age. Perhaps it was an attribute of their white skin color, she thought as she watched it protrude, twitch and curl ever so slightly to the right. She began to push backwards in the snow as he dropped down to her knees and approached her. It was futile she realized to cover herself up with the caribou hides, and in uncovered feet, even more futile to try and run for her dogsled, two hundred yards distant.

She felt the icy wind be stemmed as the second miner hovered closer to her, creating a wind block just as his rough woolen clothing landed upon her skin and began to crush her deeper into the snow pack. He was heavier than the first and more patient as he wiggled for what seemed like hours to position himself advantageously to enter her. She no longer cared as she felt his hardness slide steadily from off her stomach lower and lower until it began to slip between the curly hairs of her neither region. She just remained still, hoping that by doing so, she would survive, this attack being no different than enduring a Polar Bear mauling. Soon she hoped, the white men’s curiosity with her would be quenched and they would be on their way.

When the man finally thrust, his shaft aligned easily with her hole and slid deep into her depths from being pried open and lubricated by the first man. He heard her grunt loudly as he bottomed within her, pushing his pelvis hard into hers as he enjoyed the warm cavernous hole. Her breath escaped her mouth in a huff of visible vapor from the cold air surrounding them as her very breath was compressed out of her lungs. Then he plunged within her again, and again and again, in strong powerful strokes that mimicked that of the huge steam pump that ejected water from their old mine in Nevada. She huffed and wheezed with each forward stroke just as the pump did, a tiny puff of vapor being emitted each time as well, both in desperate need of lubrication for the operation to continue. For she was still hot from the friction of being forced open from his friend, tightness the man had never gained while engaged in the company of whores. Now he reveled in it and worked himself inside the virgin with vigor, feeling every vein and ripple of her inner walls as he sought his release.

It came quick, perhaps quicker than his friend and just as powerful. She watched him close his eyes just as a tiny droplet of pleasure began to overtake her allowing her the realization that pleasure could be derived from copulation with a man. That morsel of pleasure only intensified as she felt the hot sticky rush of his semen being pumped inside her. She counted the waves at four until it slowed to an ooze and then finally went limp within her. Only then did he withdraw from her, quickly rising from out of the cold wind to retreat to the warm confines of his clothing. Tuwaluk was not so fortunate, with the second man now removed from her body, she lay exposed to the cold wind blowing across the muskeag bog and shivered.

“Get dressed,” the first man barked at the culmination of her second rape. “We have many miles to travel before dark,” and tossed her discarded mukluks at her. Tuwaluk quickly put them on and draped herself in her caribou hides, more out of fear from the man’s course words than for her warmth from the cold. As she bent to tie the hide laces of her footwear, her split second inattention resulted in him clubbing her across her head sharply with a stout stick. Tuwaluk instantly began groggy and slumped forward into the snow, dazed.

“Why did you do that to her?” the secondary miner asked in shock.

As the darkness engulfed her, Tuwaluk heard him answer, “Because my friend, I believe she will be of equal worth to us as her dogs.”

Tuwaluk saw the glint of a knife blade out of the corner of her groggy eyes and twitched, sending the razor clattering to the floor. As it did so, the keen edge slipped across her thigh, slicing her ever so finely, but enough to draw blood as the woman that wielded it smiled and stooped own to retrieve it.

“You are awake now my dear,” she said as she returned with the sharp instrument. “Now just relax my pretty and we will get you looking like a civilized woman instead of a savage.”

Tuwaluk did not reply even in her own ethnic language, but instead began to look down at herself as her sight began to come into sharper focus. She was helplessly bound, both arms and legs and stretched tightly across the fresh laundered linens of a bed. She deduced she was in Nome, only by the board and plastered walls that only white men would construct and tried to relax as the woman began to use the strange looking knife to scoop with lather from her nether region. She tensed up as the woman skillfully plied the sharp instrument near her slit and skillfully retreated with a clump of her pubic hair.

“A prerequisite for men,” the woman said quietly and in a soft subdued tone as she continued to work. “You will now be working for me now young lady. No more moving loads of cargo in the Tundra by dog sled, but by courting men. And unfortunately they prefer their woman prepped in such a way. See much more ladylike,” she said as she ran her hand along her nakedness and shaved a wisp of resistant hair from off her softly curved mound. Tuwaluk looked down her body towards her feet and saw that the woman had been working upon her for quite some time. Only small remnants of lather remained and these she buffed off with a soft green colored towel. Tuwaluk began to relax as the soft cotton fibers rubbed her skin and the woman smiled at her.

“I suppose you have never felt cotton on you before.”

“Only caribou hides and seal-skins,” Tuwaluk said.

“Oh my dear you do speak, and English too. What a surprise. You will learn quicker then. Here, put these on,” she said handing Tuwaluk a strange set of clothing.

Tuwaluk was too mystified by her surroundings to be defiant. The woman with the razor noted this, and began to undo the bonds that held her to the bed as Tuwauk ran her hands over the thin white silk of the negligee.

“Soft and smooth isn’t it? Most men like that, along with a little lace to add a touch of roughness to the act.,” she said as she balled the simple slip over the Inuit’s head, then let it drop and watched her form slowly fill it out in all the right spots.

“Now for the stockings; the most important article of your new profession,” she continued, dropping the white silk stockings at the foot of the bed and positioned Tuwaluk’s legs so that one was crossed over the other as she tried to help Tuwaluk slowly pull them up her legs without ripping. Once, when Tuwaluk tugged a bit too hard, the woman slapped her hard across the chin.

“Easy. These are expensive, so put them on once and never take them off, even for a man. They like how they feel against their skin anyway so let them have their fun.”

Tuwaluk nodded as she rubbed her jaw and stood up to allow the woman to tug on her stockings for her. It felt strange to her, the constricting stockings so thin and fragile against her legs, having no purpose she knew but to excite a man. It was the only thing they could do, she figured. They were far too thin to fend off the cold, and too fragile to provide protection from brush along the trails. Even as the madam of the house clipped on the stocking tops to her garter belt, Tuwaluk knew this strange set of clothes was designed to excite, just as her nakedness had excited her abductor when their tussle in the snow had ripped apart her caribou hides. Now as she pushed her feet inside a pair of high heeled black leather boots, Tuwaluk shivered at the thought of standing so provocatively in front of men so they could position themselves inside her again as the two cheechekos had done in the snow.

“Just in time,” the madam said as she looked at the small clock on the mantle, then gripped her wrist only to whisk her away from the small room and down the stairs to the parlor of the house.

“Now stand up straight, smile and look at the floor as these fine young men make their choices,” she urged Tuwaluk as three miners carefully choose their weekly distraction from a week of hard shoveling.

Tuwaluk did as she said, in part fearing another slap across her face, and because she feared the three miners that no doubt had strength in their arms to make her submit as the other two miners had.

Despite all the madam’s effort however at making the young Eskimo fodder for the young miners desires, they passed over her with hardly a glance, paused at three other prostitutes, made their choices and then slipped off to the upstairs rooms with their choices in tow.

For a week the scene continued to unfold itself. Miners would come in, some sober, many drunk, to choose their companions for the evening. Each time Tuwaluk was passed over, even when there were groups of inebriated miners. This caused the other girls of the bordello to mock Tuwaluk’s Northwest Indian features and heritage. She loathed the other girls, their degrading demeanor towards her and especially their ignorance at her Eskimo traditions. So she kept to herself mostly, only being within their company at dinner time and when show-girling for clients.

Tuwaluk was planning her escape from the dismal bordello one day when all the unoccupied ladies of the house were called down to show-girl for a client. Fear began to grip her as rounded the second landing and recognized the two miners that had stolen her team of dogs and sold her to Miss Patterson. The second miner quickly chose a blonde woman, long legged and posed properly with a heart-shaped face, she was popular among the businessmen of Nome and arm in arm, quickly ascended the stairs with the man that had once forced himself on Tuwaluk.

Tuwaluk quickly looked at the wide sitka spruce floorboards as the more authoritative miner began to make his choice. He circled around the room, toying whether as he pretended to be attracted to the other women but finally stepped in front of her and put his finger to her chin. Slowly he raised it until she was staring at him in his blue eyes, so dark with evil that they seemed to radiate as gray steel.

“Lift,” he demanded with a single word. With animosity, Tuwaluk placed her hands onto the hemline of her already short dress and hefted it up to her waist so the man could inspect her sex.

“I see she has cleaned up nicely Miss Patterson,” the man said as he spun around to face his former business partner.

“Perhaps, but for a week now I have been giving her three square meals a day without the least bit of interest in her. At this rate she will never pay for her room and board to say nothing about making me money.”

“She is an Eskimo; you’ll have to lower her rate.”

“I have already. Half of what the other girls get, and still there is no interest. Perhaps if you had left her a virgin, I could have recouped my costs, Andrew?” The man only turned to smile mischievously at her, then turned back to face Tuwaluk though he spoke to Miss Patterson, to everyone really.

“I’ll take her…again”, he added after what seemed like a long moment in time.

Tuwaluk grimaced and spun from the man’s grip on her shoulder, but when she did, the man reacted with a hard slap that echoed across the large expansive room at the same time it landed on her right cheek.

“Don’t you dare treat my girls in such a way Andrew.”

“She’s my little Eskimo. I’ll treat her anyway I please,” he said and landed another across her cheek.

“Perhaps you found her, but I paid for her fair and square, and I will not allow my girls, any of my girls, to be mistreated. Now take her upstairs and enjoy her proper or get out of my house.”

“Move,” he said, whirling from the evil stare of the madam to roughly shove Tuwaluk up the stairs. Tears began to stream down at her eyes at knowing what she was going to have to endure again, but still she knew she had no recourse but to step into her room and allow the man the pleasure of her body once again. This time however, for a meager amount of money.

The wooden door in the small room echoed loudly as it shut, causing Tuwaluk to jump at its report.

“Nervous are we?” he sneered; as he tossed his hat onto the corner chair ushering in an air of confidence just as he had been a week ago out in the Tundra. He had already begun to strip, and yet kept his eyes fixed steadily on her as he watched her gaze dance constantly from that of his growing erection back up to his cold eyes, and then back down again. He could see her visibly shake, no doubt remembering her first encounter with him on top of the snow, and reveled in how her fear was beginning to rise again.

With one pointer finger, he ushered her towards him, never touching her until she was standing just in front of him. Even then it was a light touch, both hands dropping to her shoulders and then pressing them down rather lightly.

Tuwaluk was naïve, but knew what the man wanted. Once she had the courage to peek through the keyhole of the blonde, popular girl, and had seen her kneeling before her latest customer, her mouth slowly sliding back and forth along his shaft. With the man moaning loudly, and with his eyes rolled into the back of his head, Tuwaluk knew it was a pleasure the man relished.

But as she sank to her knees, it was not the mans distinctive musky smell that caught her attention, or his pulsating shaft, thickening and beating in time to his heart beat, but the sound of a dogs bark, yelping in a tone that Tuwaluk knew instantly was that of Kimbundu. She fought the urge to get up and stare out the single window to see if it indeed was Kimbundu. There was also no need; she sensed it, just as any mother would have known their babies cry.

Her mind raced, just as fast as any mother would do in order to protect her off-spring. She remembered her icy rape and thought hard about how both men reacted. She remembered their savagery, but also their lethargic reactions just after receiving their pleasure, and quickly formulated a plan.

Her plan coincided with his somewhat, as he brought his hands forward upon her chin and leveled it with that of his shaft. He was surprised when he did not have to bark another order as Tuwaluk opened her mouth wide, and took his cock into her mouth with vigor.

“I see you have learned a lot while you’ve been here my little Snow Angel,” he said moving his hand from her chin to the back of her head so he could control her movements by gripping her black hair. It was far from subtle.

He used her black hair to force her mouth in and out along his shaft, making Tuwaluk gag a little with each thrust as his cock rode over her tongue and sank its head back far enough to touch the back of her throat. She struggled for breath, and struggled to withdraw it a bit more, and even struggled to please the man in a way she had never dreamed possible. All Tuwaluk could see was the man’s hairy genitals pressing against, and retreating from her own oval and high-cheeked face.

All she could think about was how his cock had been inside of her out on the Tundra. How his abduction, and sale to Miss Patterson had reduced her whole world now to that of just pleasing men, from shaving hair from every part of her body, to kneeling in front of men who had stolen her dogs. She fought off the urge to bite him, to make him feel the same intense pain she felt within, but just then Kimbundu’s bark reached her ears and she began to focus again on her plan.

Tuwaluk moved her tongue, using it to caress the sensitive underside of the man’s shaft. She might have been new to giving a man this sort of pleasure, but understood all too well what his moans of pleasure, and harder thrusts signified. She was trying to speed the climax actually, firmly focused on her plan to escape the rape of her mouth even at the cost of pleasing the man that had stolen her most prized possession.

Tuwaluk’s mind lost track of the time as she struggled to breathe in the onslaught of the male genitals she was receiving. She was thinking of her dogs when suddenly the miner stopped his rampage, and pulled his shaft quickly out of her mouth. For a moment she thought he had pleasured himself within her, but upon having the bravery to look up into his eyes, she saw a display of hatred within, as his shaft settled into his hand. There it pumped a few times, until his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Tuwaluk instantly knew what was about to happen, and had just enough time to close her eyes as it began spewing his hot, sticky, baby spunk all over her wind-beaten face.

“Take that…take that you snow whore,” he cried upon his degrading release.

Tuwaluk knew now was her time, and turned under the pretense of wiping off her spoiled face. Instead she bolted, surprising the miner completely as the sound of shattering glass reached his ears.

Tuwaluk had leaped through the brittle window, shattering the glass and the thin wooden muttons with ease, knowing that trying to make an escape through the main lobby would have been futile. Her only fear was that the snow shoveled from the street would not be sufficient to soften her landing.

Landing in a heap, she felt no pain to her limbs as she struggled for a few precious moments trying to untangle herself from the frilly outfit she had been required to wear inside the bordello. She also fought for breath, the cold snow stinging her freshly shaved and thinly covered silk legs, as she ran towards the sound of her barking dogs.

Behind the bordello, she found her dog. Not necessarily her team, but she had enough confidence in her dog sledding ability to jump on the runners of the dog sled, pull the anchor from the snow and mush the team into their highest gear. Not surprising, Kimbundu was leading, and pulled the sled and his rightful owner onto Nome’s main street and began to pull with all his might. The other dogs seemed to react instinctively as well, and soon the team was sliding through the icy covered streets in a ghostly display of billowing white lace and speed. Looking down into the cargo hold of the sled, Tuwaluk spotted the polished walnut stocks of two rifles and smiled, just as Kimbundu did with a huff of white breath as he pointed his muzzle towards home.

March 17th, 2017 by