"Ay! Eyut eyut! Rekekeke!" The merchant stirred awake, unsure if she was dreaming. However, the thin, rickety walls of her shelter did nothing to muffle the voices from the storm and Willa had heard many stories about the eerie laughing language that echoed through the dunes at night, occasionally claiming unwary travelers.
"We're gonna skin you cackling fucks for that!" This second voice was deep, rumbling, and woke Willa immediately from her grogginess. More eerie laughter bounced across the walls of the abandoned farm buildings. Hoofbeats pounded the sand and sent vibrations up through her spine. She saw the shadows of movement through the cracks and holes in her lonely shed. The merchant held her breath in the darkness, waiting for the rickety door to be flung open by the marauders.
When the hoofbeats passed her by and faded into the roaring storm, Willa settled slightly but held her guard.. It seemed she waited in the dark for an eternity before the wind carried the sound of two male voices across the dunes and through the walls of her crumbling shelter. Her breath hitched when she recognized the rumble of the voice from earlier. She strained to hear the conversation but she could only pick small parts out of the roaring wind.
"...others... chief told... with hyena blood..." It was nonsense to Willa. The voices grew closer and became clearer.
"No sign of em'!" The blood in Willa's veins chilled at the words. The marauders were searching the area. With the men scouring the abandoned farm buildings, Willa knew she had very little time to escape unnoticed.
The dust storm would cover her tracks but she had to make a swift exit if she wished to go undetected by the marauders. She hid her goods hurriedly beneath a pile of ruined burlap sacks and scraps of wood before silently exiting her sanctuary and slinking away from the approaching voices. Willa could hear the crashing of old wood and metal as they tore through the buildings in search of their prey. Without the burden of her possessions, she crept quickly over a dune toward safety.
She would move to a safe distance and come back for her things later, assuming the marauders didn't find and take them. She knew it was a very real possibility that she would lose all her goods, but Willa knew it wouldn't matter if they found her. Willa cocked her head against the wind and strained to hear the hunting party. She shifted, trying to decide whether to flee further into the storm. Her instincts began to scream and she finally managed to tear herself away from the farm and her only possessions. She stayed low, beneath the ridge of the dune. Willa paused before leaving the safety of the dune's shadow.
"You're no hyena."
The voice was directly behind her and left a tickle of warmth on the back of her neck. She whipped around and, with all her strength, rammed her knee into his crotch. He collapsed onto his knees and dry heaved, leaving Willa an opening to run past him. She sprinted into the dust storm without a second thought. Lost was better than caught. Her heart skipped at the sudden whirring sound approaching her and then she was face first in the dune. Dazed, she rolled onto her back and sat up. Her legs were tangled together by a crude bola. Desperately, the merchant woman tried to untangle herself from the weapon. Her panic swelled as the marauder stormed toward her through the dust. His face was covered with a scarf so that all she could see was his narrowed eyes.
Willa reached for her revolver but she did not move quickly enough and the fuming marauder was upon her within seconds. She let out a frustrated roar as he dropped down to straddle her waist and pin her against the dune. He easily beat her to the gun, ripping it away and hurling it into the sands. At half the size of the raider on top of her, the merchant knew her odds were dismal. Despite this, Willa struggled viciously against him; she would rather die fighting than suffer at the hands of these brutes.
"I'm gonna make you hurt for that." He was squeezing her throat just enough to make her gasp for air and she clawed lines down his arms in her panicked struggling. She gasped in relief when he released her neck. She was free just long enough for the bandit to flip her on her stomach and press her face into the dust again. She continued writhing as he secured her arms uncomfortably tight behind her back.
He stood up off of her and there was a moment of eerie quiet before his steel-toed boot slammed into her ribs. She groaned at the blooming pain, curling in on herself before he kicked her again. Willa squeezed her eyes shut before he delivered another blow, this time to her stomach. She could not prepare herself before he delivered a final blow to the same place, making her sob out a series of curses. Seemingly satiated, he huffed out a bark of laughter.
Willa laid still at his feet. She was very aware of his eyes as they raked over her crumpled form. "Any more bullshit and I'll whip you bloody, got it?"
Willa shuddered and nodded. The man bent to ensure the bola was secure around her ankles. He rolled Willa back onto her stomach. Satisfied, the marauder began to pat her down, taking the time to feel roughly between her legs and thoroughly grope her tits. Fury boiled over in her chest as his heavy hands freely roamed her curves and when his arm passed in front of her face she did not hesitate to bite down on his sinewy forearm.
She sank her teeth in until she tasted blood and he howled. The marauder used his free hand to squeeze her neck until her vision blurred and she released him to wheeze for breath. When his cruel hands left her body, she briefly became aware of another larger man, whose face was also covered with cloth. He stood and watched her quietly.
"FUCK! You're one stupid cunt." As her attacker rubbed at the bite on his arm, Willa's heart pounded. The next thing her tormentor did made her freeze like a frightened rabbit. The sound of worn leather slinking through belt loops preceded her captor roughly tugging her jeans down over her hips and ass, leaving her behind and upper thighs exposed to the sting of the dust storm. The first biting strike of the belt woke her from her stupor and she tried to roll away with a furious yell.
The marauder grunted and tugged her back into position, this time pinning her with a knee to the back. He delivered a long succession of sharp, fast blows with the leather belt, making his prey curse and shriek with each strike.
She writhed under his knee but her captor continued relentlessly until she ceased her struggles and merely whimpered beneath his onslaught. The merchant woman felt warm blood trickling from her bottom and the backs of her thighs, mixing with the dust beneath her and staining her expensive clothes. Willa surprised herself with the tears flowing over her cheeks. She hadn't cried since she was a small child. The marauder, sweating from the effort, finally rose and turned to his friend, who had looked on patiently as Willa was brutally punished. Finally, the larger raider spoke.
"No trace of the pack. They used the storm to disappear." The larger bandit turned his gaze to her and she flinched, casting her eyes down to the sand. Willa thought she saw sympathy in his eyes, which almost stung as much as the belt. "Did you check her back?"
Her aggressor, who still stood over her exhausted body, barked out a laugh.
"Relax, brother. What are the chances? Think of all the whores before her. Were they marked?" Despite his words, he knelt over her. Willa made a sound of protest when her captor tore her sweater and shirt up to her neck. She was now exposed from her shoulders to her calves, and Willa shivered against the chill of the wind. There was silence for a moment as the men looked down upon her bared back. She did not dare look up at them, weary of inspiring further punishment. Willa startled when rough fingers rubbed aggressively at the skin over her spine, directly between her shoulder blades.
"Is this a scar?" His voice was ice cold and something about the question frightened her.
"That isn't..." Willa hesitated, weighing the consequences of her words. The bandit curled his fist into her hair.
"Torin..." at the interjection of the larger man, the bandit softened his grip on her scalp.
"Answer me, girl. Is this a scar?" Torin repeated the question and Willa shuddered when his calloused fingers jabbed into her spine.
"It... it's a birthscar." Willa managed to stutter an answer. Torin did not release her hair. He was quiet, as was his larger friend. After a long silence, he rolled off her and gently nudged her on her back. Willa winced at the movement but chanced a glance at the marauder's expressions. The larger one looked vaguely amused. Torin's face frightened her. The rage billowing off him made Willa flush and squirm away.
It was becoming very clear to her that these men did not intend to kill her, leaving the young trader with a frightening alternative; they meant to keep her. As she tried to process the situation, she suddenly became aware of several other raiders looking on with some amusement.
"Barr, you pack her up. We can't return empty handed again." Her captor, Torin, spat the order. She noted that he seemed to be the leader of this little party. Barr stepped toward her. He was built larger than her captor and he flashed Willa a goofy, slightly apologetic grin when he scooped her up. She was disturbed by his playful expression as he cupped a hand over her painful, bloodied ass cheek.
Barr did not bother to replace her clothes before settling her belly-down, securing her on his horse like a hunter's quarry. He gracefully hopped up into the saddle in front of her and made soft sounds at the horse before urging it to join their brothers.
Willa's tears cleaned the leader's blood from her face and left a dotted trail in the dust until she could cry no more. They rode until her ribs were screaming and her bare hips had chafed against the riding blanket, though the bloody welts on her rump had scabbed and dulled from a scream to a rumble. Blood flowed into her head and left her with a dizzying headache, and the bola was still wrapped bruisingly around her ankles and calves but she did not dare make a sound as to avoid any unnecessary attention from her subduers. Finally, as the sun started its ascent, they reached their apparent destination.
Barr slid down, stretching leisurely and drinking from a cantine before approaching the woman slung over his horse.
"You still alive, pet?" He gently tapped her cheeks until she relented and opened her eyes. The marauder chuckled and ruffled her dark, wind-blown hair with a strange endearment that made her shiver. Barr untied her and slid Willa over his shoulder so her ass was high in the air and all she could see was the back of his leather jacket and dusty asphalt. He held her in place with an arm around her thighs that aggravated the worst of her welts. Willa hissed at the pain but Barr ignored her completely, carrying her quickly toward an unseen destination. She heard a door open before blacktop became tile and the dust stopped its ceaseless attack on her skin.
Although her body hurt so she could barely move, Willa couldn't help but slump to her side with relief when Barr took her into another room with nothing but a small carpet and set her down on the cool, hard ground. She did not bother resisting him when he locked a tight leather collar around her neck, secured to the cement floor by a chain and metal ring.
