Sarah [A.U.] #WIP

[sandorr]

Sarah

1.

"Is there anywhere I can repair my car?" I asked as I approached the farm..

"Sure," the tall, rawboned blonde in jeans and denim shirt said. "When I ride into town tomorrow, I'll tell Abe, and he'll come out and give you a tow."

"What will I do till tomorrow?" I asked.

"I could use some help. You can say here the night, but you'll have to help me out until supper."

I agreed, following her into the large barn. She was a tall country girl in her late twenties, the same height as me at six feet, but thin and rangy where I was more heavily built at 200 pounds. Her face was long and good looking, burned brown by the wind and sun. "My name's Sarah," she said.

"I'm Henry," I responded.

"Well, Henry, You can help me shift this feed," she nodded to about forty sacks of meal that lay near the doorway. "I've just had a delivery. It needs to go up top." She pointed up a stairway to a platform fifteen feet above us. "You better take off your jacket."

I put the jacket in one corner, took off my tie, and began to work in my shirtsleeves, bending to pick up the first sack. It was hard to lift. 100 awkward pounds - which had to be hefted onto my shoulder. With some difficulty I managed to balance the heavy sack over my right shoulder and began to carry it up the steps. When I reached the top, I was surprised to see Sarah right behind me with a similar sack of meal over her shoulder. She looked quite comfortable beneath the heavy load as she stepped ahead of me and threw it down in one corner.

"Stack them up here," she said.

"Are you sure you can manage those?" I asked.

"We have to work hard in the country," she said, turning back down the steps.

I followed her, watching, impressed as she bent, briskly hefted one of the hundred pound sacks up across her shoulder and strode back toward the steps. She moved fast. This girl was getting ahead of me. I went to the pile an hefted another sack up to my shoulder. It took some effort. It wasn't getting any easier. I found myself gasping for breath as I straightened beneath the weight and turned. I was annoyed that I couldn't do it with the same smooth fluidness of the girl. By the time I got to the steps, Sarah was already on her way back down. I tried to speed up as she passed me, but I was feeling hot and short of breath. Already I was beginning to sweat.

I got to the top of the steps, unloaded my burden and turned to see the girl slam another heavy sack down beside mine. Already she'd done three full sacks to my two, and she was ahead of me again going back down the steps. What's more, she didn't look the least tired or even sweaty. Gasping for breath, I followed her back down.

Ten miniutes later I was carrying my ninth sack up that terrible stairway. I was pouring with sweat, my face burning, moving very slowly, every muscle in my body blazing with pain. I had really struggled hard to get this last sack up on my shoulder, dropping it twice, my arms burning with the effort. What was worse, I was nowhere near keeping pace with this girl barely two thirds my weight. I watched as she swung sack number twenty up onto her rangy shoulder as if it was full of feathers, not a hundred pounds of grain. Again she turned and strode up past me to the top.

I reached the upper level gasping for air, dropping my sack before I got to the pile. Sarah just grabbed it and tossed it up to the top of the pile in her long, rangy arms. And she hadn't even broken sweat. She'd carried twice as much as me, and she still looked fresh!

"How do you do that?" I gasped, feeling humiliated that I, a strong man, wasn't able to keep up with her.

"You're not used to heavy work like I am," she said. "I do it every day."

"I'm so hot," I gasped, wiping the streaming sweat from my face and neck. I've got to take a rest."

"You're right. It is hot work," Sarah said, taking off her blue denim shirt to reveal just a white brassiere underneath. I could see the muscles on her rangy frame now. They were spare and hard. There were squared  washboard abdominals, flaring deltoids at her shoulders, and long, rounded biceps that balled into small boulders as her arms flexed. I watched the muscles snake and ripple across her tanned upper body as she went back down the steps.

"Aren't you going to take a break?" I asked.

"I haven't time," she said bending to toss another big sack over her shoulder. There were only  seven left now. "I have to cook a meal after this."

She almost ran up the steps and dumped the sack on the stack. I tried to get back up, but was too exhausted to stand. "You've done okay," Sarah said. "I can manage the rest. This is how I normally do it."

I watched astonished as she bent, and this time took one sack over each shoulder, straightening under the 200 pound weight with only the softest grunt of effort, then she turned and carried both sacks back up the stairway to where I sat.

"Stop," I said, as she went back down and did the same again. I couldn't watch this, and staggering to my feet, I went down the steps and tried to do as she did. But there was no way I could get both heavy sacks up onto my shoulders. Both went only half way up before crashing heavily to the ground.

"Don't try it," Sarah said, behind me. "It takes practice."

Settling for one sack, I made my way back up the steps. It felt like I was carrying the world on my shoulders. I stumbled and nearly fell twice, but finally made it to the top with my sack, sweating and gasping for air. I slumped to the floor as the girl came up behind me with the last two sacks and lowered them onto the pile.

"There. Job done," she said, grinning. She still wasn't sweating, just glowing beneath her tan, her muscles flickering gently as she moved. Through her tight jeans I could see her hard, pumped, leg muscles pressing against the fabric. "Right let's get up to the farmhouse."

I tried to stand, but my legs were unsteady, my muscles still trying to recover from the effort they had put in. I had to prop myself up against a post.

"All right, city boy," Sarah said, "perhaps you need a bit of help from a plain old country girl." With that she seized my arm, bent, and sent her right arm between my knees. Then she straightened to lift me right up off the floor across her shoulders!

"Put me down!" I yelled, feeling her hard shoulders digging into my chest and stomach as she turned for the stairs.

"Now why should I do that?" she said playfully, her arms pinning me firmly across her shoulders so I couldn't escape. She spun me round, enjoying her power over me.

"We'll fall!"

"No we won't, lover boy." She began to walk down the steps. "I'm good and strong."

So it proved as she carried my 200 pounds effortlessly down the steps, out of the barn and up toward the farm house. She moved fast, her long legs carrying us the hundred and fifty yards up to the house in moments. I felt totally humiliated. I was being carried across this girl's shoulders like a sack of grain, and I could do nothing to free myself. I gazed helplessly at the yard and the outbuildings as she took us up the steps, and then through the flyscreen into the house kitchen.

"Hi mom. Who's the guy?"

That was when I saw the two kids drawing at the table. I felt even more humiliated as I looked down at them from where I was pinned six feet up across Sarah's shoulders.

"Oh. He's a friend. He got tired helping me with the feed delivery so I gave him a lift up here. You know your mom's real strong. Oh." She said to me, turning me round so I could see them. "These are my two kids, Earl is five, and Dottie is six. Their dad went off four years ago."

"Hi mister," Earl said.

"Hi," I answered.

"What are you going to do with him, Mom?"

"Oh. I'll take him upstairs so he can get a bath."

"You can put me down now," I said.

"Not quite yet," She said. "Us country girls don't tire easy." She turned and carried me into the hall, then up a steep flight of steps to a small bedroom. Then she slipped me off her shoulders and lowered me back to my feet. She stood back. Her face was slightly flushed, but otherwise she didn't look affected by her effort in carrying me here.

"You're some woman," I said.

"Sure am," she smiled. "Now I'll just go down and start supper. You take your bath. Or do you want me to put you in?"

"Put me in?"

"Yes. Why not?" With that she scooped me up in her arms in a smooth cradle carry. She seemed to carry my two hundred pounds easily in her muscular arms. Walking across to the bathroom, she lowered me, clothes and all, into the empty bathtub. "You'll have to run your own water," she said as she left me to go downstairs.

I had my bath. As I was towelling down I realized that I was hearing voices outside. I went to the window to see that there was a truck in the yard. Sarah was talking to the driver. He could take me to town, I realized.  I threw on my clothes and rushed downstairs. When I got back to the kitchen Sarah was just coming in.

"That man," I said. "He could take me in to town now. I could get my car fixed tonight! Did you tell him about me?"

"No.," Sarah said. "It's best you go in the morning like I said."

"But I can save a whole day."

"I don't want him to know you're here," she said. "Talk will get around."

"That doesn't matter!" I pressed toward the kitchen door. "I'll explain everything to him. Hey!" I shouted. "Stop!"

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned round to see Sarah one step behind me. She was frowning. Then I saw this blur as her right arm sped up toward me.

There was a sudden huge blaze of pain in the left side of my jaw. I felt myself falling backward... The room spinning... Then nothing.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a couch with Sarah on the far side of the kitchen preparing a meal. I sat up slowly, my head throbbing, wondering where the truck and its driver were, and how I got on this couch. I felt my jaw, and winced with pain. It was badly bruised. My lip was cut.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice sounding slurred. It hurt to speak. "Where's the truck driver?"

"He left over an hour ago," Sarah said. "I sold him some seed, we had a coffee, and he left."

"An hour ago?" I repeated in disbelief, beginning to remember. "You.. hit me.."

"Yeah!" young Earl said. "Mom knocked you out cold! Whack! One good punch, and you went down."

"One punch?" I sat bewildered, feeling my injured jaw.

"Yeah," said the little girl, Dottie, "You just lay there and didn't move. Mom picked you up and carried you over to that couch. Then she went out to finish her business.  You've been lying there grunting for over an hour."

"I always could hit pretty hard." Sarah brought the potatoes to the table. "That was a pretty good punch, though I don't think I broke your jaw or anything. Now come and eat your supper. And don't give me any more trouble or I might just have to lay you out again."

I realized I'd have to watch out for Sarah.

[solitariodude]

Thanks for posting that. Interesting and enjoyable read!

[sandorr]

2. TALL AND VERY STRONG


"Time to get up," Sarah jogged my shoulder. "It's past five thirty."

I looked up and saw the tall, rawboned twenty-eight year-old who ran this isolated farm. She'd given me shelter last night when my car had broken down - in return I was to lend a hand with the chores..

"Whuh?" My eyes were bleary. I wasn't used to being awake at this hour. "You said you'd take me to town today."

"No I didn't," She shook her head. Tousled blonde hair came down to her shoulders. "I said that when I rode into town I'd get Abe to come out and tow your car in. Now get up. You can help with some more chores."

She wore jeans and a blue sleeveless top that left her rugged shoulders bare, and exposed her dense abdominals. She was  the same height as me, six feet tall, but thin and rangy where I was more heavily built at 210 pounds. Her long, good looking face was tanned by the sun and topped with a shock of tousled hair.

"It's too early!" I said, turning over in bed.

"No." she said."It's the right time," I suddenly felt two arms burrowing beneath my body, forcing their way between me and the mattress. Before I knew what was happening, I felt my whole body being lifted off the bed, complete with all my bedclothes, as her two steely arms scooped me up. I struggled to free myself, but found myself cradled with a mass of sheets and blankets five feet off the ground. I was being carried in the tall young woman's arms! I was shocked that her arms felt so solid beneath me. I didn't feel in any danger of falling. She was clearly extremely strong.

"This is the time we get up in this house!" she said firmly, her face looking across and down at me. "And you'll do as we do." Shocked, I just lay there, sprawled out in her arms as she turned from the bed, then carried me out of the room, down the corridor, then out onto the landing.

I had begun to wriggle and struggle a little by this time, but Sarah's arms were just so strong beneath me, it was as if I was lying on iron bars. And I was so tightly wrapped in my bedclothes that I could barely move.

"Hey. Mommy. What are you doing with Mr Landon?" I twisted my head round to see her two small kids staring up at me in amusement. "How come you're carrying him like that? Can't he walk?" This was really humiliating.

"I'm just getting him out of bed, kiddoes," the young woman said. "City folks like him don't usually get up till near noon."

"Noon?" said five year old  Dorothy.

"That's right. But we're going to show him different, aren't we?"

"Can you put me down?" I asked, struggling a bit more and trying to sound authoritative. It was difficult, however with this tall young blonde carrying me like a small child.

"Not yet." She tightened the grip of her long arms as I began to struggle, raising me even higher so that my waist was just beneath her chin. With her steely arms clamped tight around me, it was impossible to escape! My legs just wriggled impotently, my body held in the crook of her arms. It was hard to believe that this slim 27 year old was strong enough to do this to a large man 15 years older.

Turning, she carried me down a flight of stairs to a large kitchen.  Once there, she just let me go. With a cry I landed on a hard old sofa - still trussed up in the sheets and blankets from my bed.

I disentangled myself from the mass of blankets, finding my clothes folded nearby. I dressed hurriedly in a corner.

"Look." I said. "I need to be at company head office tomorrow. I can't afford to waste any more time here.."

"Then the sooner we get the animals fed, the sooner I can fetch you some help."

The two kids went to feed the chickens as Sarah led me across to a large barn with penned hogs and sheep. Running free inside was a single ram that had broken out of its pen. Sarah strode across to it, reached out one of her long arms, and grabbed it by a curved horn. Her arm went rigid, the dense muscles freezing and defining as she held the creature still. I could see the eighty pound  ram twisting and writhing as it struggled to free itself, but Sarah's arm was unbelievably strong. Nothing the ram could do could break the tall twenty-seven year-old's steely grip. It tried to tear its head and neck free, its whole body wrenching from side to side. But Sarah's arm didn't move an inch until its struggles eased. Then she dragged the imprisoned ram toward the pen, holding it still with the long arm that had subdued it as she used the other to refasten the gate.

"We better feed the hogs." She handed me a small penknife and pointed to some sacks of feed.  She bent,  picked up a 100 pound sack in her lanky arms as if it weighed next to nothing, and strode over to the hogpens. Long biceps swelled into chunky boulders as her arms flexed.  I could see the big, squared  abdominals ripple sexily as they emerged from the waistline of her faded jeans.

I bent to pick up a bag of feed. It really surprised me how heavy it was. The hundred pounds was bulky dead weight, and hard to hold. How did this girl carry it so easy? She was 160 pounds, and I was 210, but I found it a real struggle to keep up with her. She was aready at the far feed trough. Her long arms raised the big sack smoothly to shoulder height, swinging it out over the pen until it was directly above the trough. Gripping one corner of the 100 pound sack in her right hand, she let go with her left, holding the whole sack suspended from just her right hand. Her left then slit the sack open, letting feed spill into the trough.

I copied her, but raising the hundred pound sack to shoulder height took incredible effort. I got it to just about chest height, but my arms were burning and wanting to give up. It was a real struggle to force the heavy, bulky sack any higher. I had to use my legs to provide the final push. By then I was sweating all over. And when I tried to support the feed sack from just one hand, my arm gave way. The heavy sack tore itself out of my hands and crashed into the feed trough.

"What are you doing?" Sarah said, striding across to me, another hundred pound sack in her lanky arms.

"It slipped," I said.
 
Without a word,  she reached in with her left hand, and used it to haul out the damaged sack and balance it on top of the railing. "You don't have to do it like I do," she looked at me. "You can rest the sacks on top of  the barrier while you cut them open."

I managed like that for two more bags - as she managed four in the same period. "That'll do," Sarah said as she saw me dripping with sweat. Indicating that I should follow, she led the way to the next outbuilding where there were several horses in large stalls.

"Can we see the baby, mommy?" Earl, her six year old, said.

"Sure." Sarah walked to the large pen where a mare and her young colt were standing. She placed one hand on the five foot top rail, and vaulted smoothly into the pen, her long body sweeping over the fence in one fluid movement. Her booted feet crunched firmly on the sand and straw inside the stall as she landed. Then she went over to the almost four foot tall colt standing next to its mother. Bending, she just picked it up off the ground in her rangy arms. I watched her solid biceps swell and harden as she cradled it with apparent ease. The horse's long legs dangled free as she carried it over to where the kids were waiting. She held the foal steady to show to the two kids while they stroked it.

"Is it heavy?" Dorothy asked.

"Not for me," Sarah said with a grin. "But your mommy has very strong arms. I guess the little fella must weigh about 160, 170 pounds." She hefted the colt in her arms, raising it a few inches then letting it drop again, estimating its weight. "Yes. I'd say just over 165 - about fifteen pounds less than your uncle Pete. And I carry him all the time! Check its hooves for me, will you?" She raised her arms again, lifting the foal even higher until its body was nearly six feet up in the air, and out of reach of the two children. Only its legs now hung down to where they stood. "Do its hooves look okay?"

The children examined its feet one by one. "Yes," they nodded as Sarah's arms lowered the foal back to waist height again. "Okay,"she said, " that's enough." She carried it back to its mother. "Go in and get ready for your breakfast."

Sarah strode over to the far side of the barn, picked up one of the three foot wide bales of hay stacked there, and tossed it right across the barn toward me. It arced through the air. I stretched out my arms to catch it, but  it hit me so hard! My arm twisted backward, I gave a cry of pain, and fell heavily to the floor.

"You're not much good at this sort of work, are you?" Sarah looked down at me.

"I'm not used to it.." I explained weakly.

"I have to do this every day," she frowned, stretching her lean-muscled arms above her head. "Anyhow. You're not much help here. Go indoors and make the kids some breakfast. I'll finish this."

I did as she said.

Afterward, she strolled out on to the porch. She had a heavy punchbag hanging from a chain at one end. I gave it a couple of playful punches that hardly moved it. Sarah walked up to it, and unloaded three heavy punches that set it rocking wildly. Then she stepped to one side and blasted in four more. All were impressively hard, denting the hundred-pound bag deeply and setting it jolting on its chain, "This burns off a little tension," she said, increasing the pace. "When I'm mad or frustrated, I normally just take it out on this." Another ten big blows went in, sending the heavy bag jerking and swinging across the porch. The noise of the blows slamming in drowned out everything else as her long arms tore into it, even the noise from the barns, and the kitchen radio. She stepped back and drew a breath, watching the bag swing and squeak on its heavy chain.

"You like to try?" she said.

I shook my head. I was afraid of not being able to land such an impressive set of punches. This girl could hit heavy.

"Hi, Ms Sarah," a voice came from behind me. I looked round to see a man of about thirty. He was slightly chubby at  five foot nine and around 160 pounds. "I've got the irons ready."

"Good." Sarah nodded. "This is Joe. He lives up the valley some. He helps out when I need it. We have the new colt to fix up before I go to town."

Joe led the way to the corral where he had a brazier burning. Sarah climbed the lowest rung of the six foot fence, then vaulted it cleanly to land inside. Running around the corral, was a slender colt nearly as tall as she was.  She picked up a looped rope, and threw it around its neck. Then, as Joe and I watched, she began to reel it in. The colt resisted and tried to draw away, but Sarah held firm, leaning away from the colt, her long, long legs braced firm as she fought against it. I watched the long muscles snake and ripple along her arms as she pulled. The colt tried to resist, tearing against the rope, bucking, and trying to pull its body away. But Sarah never gave it an inch of slack. Her tall slim body held firm as a rock.  When the young horse tried to pull away, she braced herself against it, then, when its struggles eased, she would reel it in some more.

I watched the long, tanned muscles of her arms flaring and rippling as the young horse was drawn irresistibly toward her. I was surprised how much in control she was. The colt was easily more than twice her bodyweight, but that didn't help it at all. It was loose-limbed and immature, where Sarah's hundred and sixty pounds was rangy, hard-packed muscle. The colt tried to resist, but her pulling force was amazing. The young horse staggered and stumbled toward its slim but powerful captor.

Once the colt  was within reach, Sarah dropped the rope and threw her arms around its head and neck, linking then firmly about its muzzle. "I've got him now," she called to the waiting Joe. Her sinewed arms hardened, tightening their grip around the colt's head, so that it couldn't move. Then she began to twist with her strong arms. I gasped as her strength began to prevail, forcing the colt's head up and around!

Again she braced her legs, throwing all of her bodyweight into the turning pressure that her linked arms were applying, wrenching the colt's nose upward and twisting its head around. The young horse staggered, struggling to break free, but to my surprise, the tall farm girl's arms were like steel. Once she'd set them rigid, the colt could not budge them a fraction of an inch. And Sarah continued to apply more pressure.

"You okay?" Joe asked.

"Yeah," Sarah grinned. "He's trying to fight me. He's quite strong, but not as strong as I am. I can feel he's starting to tire."

The colt's head was horizontal now. "I'm going to put on a little more pressure.."  At once the muscles on her arms defined even more starkly. I saw the colt stagger sideways.This girl was incredibly strong! The head of the over 400 pound animal had been forced upward now - at close to 45 degrees. The colt stumbled again as it sidestepped, trying to stay upright, its neck under severe pressure. The tall blonde gave a soft grunt, applying another surge of force, and suddenly the colt lost its balance completely,  falling heavily to the ground with Sarah on top of it!

"Wow!" I gasped, hardly able to believe that this tall but slim young woman had just wrestled a young horse, more than twice her own weight, to the ground. What was more incredible was that she had mainly used sheer brute strength!

The colt struggled to rise, but Sarah kept its head in a vice-tight grip, maintaining the pressure on its neck that kept it pinned down. Keeping her body away from its flailing legs, her corded arms continued to apply unrelenting pressure. She held the young horse flat on the ground as she moved her legs across its body, clamping them across its front legs.  Its back legs still thrashed helplessly.

"Shall I do it now?" Joe asked.

"No. Wait till it stops fighting." Her tanned arms tightened again, applying still more pressure. The colt's struggles weakened immediately. "Hush," she said, "calm down." But her arms maintained their fierce pressure. It was hard to believe how strong this young woman was. The young horse was breathing more and more harshly, its breaths coming in tortured gasps, its head immobile as she crushed and twisted its neck. At last, whether from weariess or lack of breath, its struggles weakened. there were a couple of rasping breaths and it lay still.

"Okay!" she yelled to to Joe. "I've got it subdued now."

He came forward with a long  iron from the brazier, and applied the brand. The colt struggled briefly as the hot iron burnt the mark into its skin, but the tall twenty seven year old held it in an iron grip. Sarah waited until it had calmed somewhat, releasing its forelegs, then its neck,  and stepped back.

The colt stumbled weakly back to its feet and then ran off round the far side of the corral.

"You shouldn't have done that," I said as she swung herself back over the fence. "You could have been injured."

"I wasn't in any danger," she shook out her blonde mass of hair. "I know what I'm doing. The colt may be bigger than me, but its neck's a lot weaker than my arms," She spread her long arms wide on either side of her, then she brought them up in a sharp flex. "If I'd needed to, I could have snapped its neck."

"You think you're that strong?" Joe had unstrapped a heavy leather pad from the side of the corral and came toward us.

"You need another demonstration?" Sarah said. "Just 'cause you're hiding behind that big bolster, doesn't mean you're safe," Her long right hand closed into a surprisingly big bony fist.  "I can still wipe that smirk off your face."

"How?" Joe grinned, walking up to her,  holding the bolster in front of him. "I've got protection.."

"Yeah?" Sarah didn't draw her fist back more than six inches. She just moved it sharply forward into the thick leather bolster Joe was carrying. There was a dull crump as her long arm drove it in. ...

[sandorr]

..CONTINUED

"Ooooffff!" Joe groaned in surprise and pain as he was sent hurtling backward. Staggering beneath the unexpected weight of the tall young woman's blow, he let the bolster fall from his arms.

"Owww!" He gasped. "That hurts! - even through the bolster! Ouch!" He cried again as he felt his stomach. "There's a great big bruise coming up! That's not fair!"

"You can hit me back if you want," Sarah grinned, indicating her densely muscled stomach with both hands. "Hard as you like..."

"Okay." I could see that Joe was angry, his eyes watering. He stepped forward, drew back his fist, then drove it hard into her unprotected stomach.

There was a loud thwack as his fist stopped dead on impact, halted by the dense and well-defined wall of abdominal muscles. Sarah didn't wince. In fact she was still smiling, her arms spread wide.

"Is that the best you can do?" She mocked gently, rippling the dense muscles of her six-pack. She was clearly enjoying this. "Wanna try again, kid?" 

He tried again, drawing back his fist even farther this time, and hitting harder. But again, his fist just seemed to bounce off the brick wall of her abs. "Owwww!" He cried, holding his twisted wrist as he backed away.

"Yay!" Both of the kids had come out of the house to cheer Sarah's victory.

Irritated, Joe made a sudden lunge to grab her, but Sarah's right arm just bent round his waist, then her two arms simply hoisted the 160 pound man right off his feet like a baby. With a broad grin, Sarah lifted him way up past her shoulder height, before swinging round and dropping him over the corral fence. He landed heavily, flat on his back, on the dusty ground.

"Owwwwww!" he groaned, stumbling dizzily back to his feet. "That hurt!" Angrily he clambered back over the fence.

"Want to go again?" Sarah grinned, her long and rangy arms spread wide, hands beckoning him forward. "You'll regret it..."

He squinted, then ran at her. But Sarah just took a sidestep and swept him up into her long arms again like a doll.

Again I was surprised by how easily those arms lifted a full-grown man. And this time as her arms clamped around him, they twisted, turning his 160 pound body upside down, seeming with no effort at all. Sarah was just so strong! The ranch hand cried out, his legs kicking helplessly in the air as her arms held him vertically in front of her. Turning, she carried him back toward me, Dorothy and Earl.

"Put me down!" he gasped desperately, his head turning bright red as it hung beneath him level with her knees. "I can't breathe!"

"Not yet," she said. "You've got a lesson to learn first. Who's the boss here?"

"You are!" he said quickly in a strangled voice.

"And who knows exactly what she's doing?"

"You. You do!"

"Okay." she said as her arms twisted him back to the horizontal again. But then they raised him still higher. "Shall I slam you?" she asked.

"No. No. Please!" he said. "My back's already one big bruise!"

"Okay," she said again, as she placed him gently back on his feet. "Are you cooled off yet?" Sarah asked.

With a roar, the goaded Joe lunged for her.

"I guess not," she said as she twisted nimbly to one side. Her long right arm went round his neck, and tightened. The large hidden muscles of her arm swelled visibly as she used it  to pull him up on to his toes. He tried to struggle, but he couldn't do anything to free himself as Sarah used her free left arm to tie back her hair in a ponytail.

"Sometimes Joe gets a little over-excited," she said. "So I need to calm him down." As she spoke, her right arm continued to  tighten its fierce hold round his neck. His face went deep red.  His legs began to kick and flail helplessly.  He seemed to be gasping for air, but the arm that imprisoned him was like stone, and he couldn't move it a single millimeter. I watched as his flailing grew quickly weaker, his eyes rolled back in his head, and and he went still.

He was out cold! Even so, Sarah maintained the pressure for a few more moments. Then, at last, her arm relaxed, releasing him to slump to the ground.

I was amazed. This girl had put Joe out, easily, with just one arm!

"Will he be okay?" I asked.

"He's not hurt bad." She bent and picked him up in her arms, cradling him easily as his limp arms and legs hung loosely down. "Just a bit of play fighting."

"Mommy is very strong," the little girl, Dorothy, said. "She can make all sorts of people go night-night if she wants."

"Like she did to you yesterday!" Earl looked up, studying the large bruise that still marked my jaw.

The twenty-seven year old turned, carrying Joe across the broad yard to the house, where she laid him on a chair on the porch.

"What about me?" I asked. "I need to get back to the city."

"Just stay there," she ordered, walking to the stable. Moments later she led a large saddled horse out of the barn. "Joe should come round sometime in the next half hour," she said, swinging herself up into the saddle. "I'll ride into town now. You stay here and watch him and the kids until I get back." 

"Okay," I nodded.

"Be sure you don't let me down," she said, turning the horse, and riding off down the track.

[sandorr]

Rescued and Punished


"I'm riding into town," Sarah said, swinging her six foot frame up into the saddle of her black horse. She was in her late twenties, her face long and good looking, burned brown by the wind and sun. "Don't try to leave. These woods can be dangerous. You must promise to mind the kids until I get back." 

"Okay," I nodded.

My host was the same height as me at six feet, but thin and rangy where I was more heavily built at 200 pounds, but she had had no trouble lifting me. She was wearing tight working jeans that displayed the shape of her long, hard legs. "Be sure you don't let me down," she said, turning the horse, "and I'll find someone to tow in your broken-down car." With that she rode off down the track.

I looked round. I was alone on this lonely farm. Sarah, the 28 year old owner of this land, lived here with her two kids, a six year old girl and five year old boy, Dorothy and Earl. I had a big sales meeting scheduled in the city, and was sure Sarah could have got me to town last night if she'd really wanted to. But she had made me stay.

I walked back to the house, where the kids were waiting.The thirty year old Joe was still unconscious although thirty minutes had passed since Sarah had released him from her powerful one-arm choke-hold. I shook him by the shoulder.

"You shouldn't ought to do that!" six year old Dorothy said, behind me. "Mom says its dangerous. Sometimes it takes him nearly two hours to wake up when mom puts him out."

There was an angry bruise around the 160 pound man's neck, where his employer's strong arm had crushed him into unconsciousness before she'd carried him up here from the stables. Sarah was certainly very strong. The tall slim blonde seemed only to have been toying with this guy, and he was gone.

I paced impatiently in and out of the house as the kids stayed out of my way. But it was another forty minutes before Joe at last began to grunt and splutter. He seemed to be coming round.

He stood stiffly, opening his shirt to reveal large bruises on his stomach, where Sarah's fist had jammed the leather bolster he had been carrying, hard into him. There were other bruises on his back, where she had lifted him and then slammed him nearly six feet to the hard ground. "My neck." he moaned. "She's so darn strong!"

"I've got to go," I said. "Look after the kids."

"If Sarah's told you to stay here, you should do what she says." said Joe.

"I couldn't give a crap what she says!" I walked.

I cut through the woods toward the highway. But the underbrush was thicker than I thought. It seemed to be taking a long time to find the road.

It was then that I saw a movement in the trees. A wolf! I looked to left and right - and there were five more! A pang of fear ran through me. There was no way I could run fast enough to get past them. One of the wolves began to move forward, it's eyes fixed on me. Two more followed.

I kept facing them, backing slowly away through the long grass, but the wolves were following. I shouted, hoping to scare them. It had no effect.

Then the nearest wolf began a run toward me! The two behind it followed. I looked for any sort of weapon, - but there was nothing! The first wolf was only ten feet away...

CRACK! A loud crash echoed through the woods as something whined past my ear. The wolf fell in mid-spring, its head blown apart by a single large caliber bullet. Two more loud cracks came from behind me, and two more of the grey wolves fell dead

"Back away slowly." I heard a familiar voice. I looked around to see a tall blonde figure on horseback about eighty yards behind me. It was Sarah, and she was holding a rifle. She'd just put clean shots through their heads of three of them from that distance! She must be a crack shot! She signaled me to remain motionless as she edged her horse toward me

"Slowly!" She warned, still holding the rifle. "I don't want the rest to attack." Without warning she levelled the rifle and her finger squeezed. KROOM! The noise of the large gun was surprisingly powerful. I looked back. Another wolf had begun its leap. The bullet tore into it, twisting the body in mid-air as it fell squirming on the ground. A second bullet crashed into it, stilling it completely.

But the rest of the pack had now decided to attack, coming in from left and right. They raced toward me through the long grass.  CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACCKKK! The big gun kept on speaking, deafeningly loud, as Sarah aimed with sharp efficiency. Wolf after wolf howled and fell.  I didn't see one bullet that missed. Some of the wolves were moving really fast through long grass, but it didn't save them. A charging wolf fell. Another, running in from the right, took a bullet behind the ears and fell like a sack.

That big rifle must have a lot of recoil, but Sarah held it firmly. It was already clear that the entire wolf pack had no chance at all against her. Two more skulls were blown apart. There was howling and yelping from a trio of pack members that hadn't been killed outright by Sarah's first bullet. There were three more loud bangs, and all were still. Then an eerie silence fell over the forest.

Sarah holstered the rifle and turned her eyes on me. I could see that she was really angry as she rode up.

"Come here!" she scowled.

"I'm walking into town!" I said.

"You're going nowhere near town." She slipped from the saddle right in front of me.

In a single move, she bent, hoisted me up over one steely shoulder and strode toward her horse. It happened so fast, I couldn't do anything to resist. Sarah just carried me to the horse, transferred me to a cradle carry, then placed me across the pommel of her saddle, hogtying my arms and legs before climbing up behind me.

"You can't do this!" I said.

Taking the reins, she rode up to the fallen bodies. There were eight of them. "Look!" she pointed " I had to kill the whole pack - Just to save your hide!"

She turned the horse and rode home

Untying me, she slipped me to my feet, facing away from her. At once, her rangy arms went round me from behind, pinning my arms. She straightened, lifting me up to shoulder height, then letting my body fall back so that it hung backward over her shoulder. Being carried like this really hurt! All the weight of my body was pivoted on the small of my back. I cried out in pain, humiliated,  watched by Joe and her kids as she set me down on the porch.

"Did you make him come back, mommy?"

"Yes. I rescued him from some wolves."

"Wolves?" Dottie looked fearful.

"They won't harm us. Mommie shot them." she unholstered her rifle.

"Every one?"

"Yes. Just like those two bears I had to shoot last winter when they came too close to the house." She pointed to two large rugs hanging from the wall of a storage room.

"Why did you bring him back like that?" Earl asked.

"He was naughty." Sarah turned away.

"So are you going to punish him?"

"Go and get ready for supper," she ordered. She picked up a telephone and dialled. "Is that Abe?" she said. "Has anyone set out yet? Good. Cancel the tow truck I ordered. My guest has managed to fix his car himself." She replaced the receiver.

"Okay." She led me down to the basement, shutting the door behind us. The room was the biggest in the house, but it was mostly empty, with virtually no furniture to clutter the open floor.

"Now we have something to settle," Sarah said, taking off her shirt to reveal the white brassiere underneath, contrasting strongly with her tanned skin. I could see the muscles on her rangy frame now. They were spare and hard. There were squared  washboard abdominals, flaring deltoids at her shoulders, and long, rounded biceps that balled into small boulders as her arms flexed. I watched the muscles snake and ripple across her tanned upper body as she turned slightly away from me.

CRACK! The blow came so fast! Her stony fist sped round to crunch into my side. "Oooowwww!" I howled in pain gasping suddenly for air.

Her face was stern. "You broke your word to me when I left you here with my kids. You just walked off. You lied to me..."

Whack! Her next punch was immense. I could see her muscles harden, the way they covered her whole body, but I couldn't believe she could hit so hard. It sent pain blazing through my face. I saw lights, felt blood running down my chin.

I still heard her voice, penetrating the pain. "You  abandoned my kids for your own selfish reasons." Before I could recover or protect myself, Whack. Whack. Whack! She delivered three painful punches to my face, body and stomach. They really hurt. I tried to fight back, but I was already giddy, stumbling, trying to keep my balance, and I was hurting like hell.

It was no sort of fight, no contest, it was just a beating. I doubled over in a blaze of agony as her left fist drove into my stomach. Then her right crashed into my face real hard. I spun into the wall. Before I could move, two blows tore into my back, below the ribs. I cried out in agony. It hurt so bad I could hardly breathe. I turned around only for three more painful blows to tear into my body. There was so much pain in every part of my body, I was disorientated. Then her arms, so strong, just swept me up off the floor, lifting me five, nearly six feet up, holding me up there, horizontal. Then they just let me go.  I crashed to the floor, hitting shockingly hard, moaning in pain.

"Get up," she said.

"I can't! " I was shaking. I could taste my blood in my mouth, feel it running down my face onto my jacket.. "No more please!"

Sarah looked stern and unrelenting. "Get up," she ordered.

"No. Please. I'm sorry!"

She stared down at me for a moment as if to judge how genuine my apology was. Eventually her face softened a little.

"From now on you do exactly what I say, understand?"

"Yes." I nodded. I didn't dare risk displeasing her further. I was hurting so bad. My whole body was one big source of pain. I'd known she was strong, but this beating was incredible. She really knew how to apply her strength and hand out some shocking punishment. I'd never hurt like this before in my life. I was terrified she would hit me with those stone-hard fists of hers again.

"I'm going to suspend the rest of your whipping for the moment," she said. "In order to avoid it, you'll have to prove yourself to me." She stretched her lanky arms and linked them thoughtfully behind her head. The movement made her long biceps swell into chunky brick shapes that looked almost as dense as marble. "You are going to stay here. You will do exactly as I order, and work real hard. When I think you've learned your lesson, however long that takes, that's when I'll give you permission to leave. Only then will you cease being subject to my authority. Do you accept that?"

 "Yes." I whimpered.

"During that time, any bad attitude and I  will punish you again. Do you understand?"

Yes," I nodded weakly. I was beginning to believe she meant business.  I was sure I'd hit her at least once, but there wasn't a mark on her. She didn't even look mussed-up.

"Yes, ma'am," Sarah corrected me.

"Yes ma'am," I repeated

"Good," she said with satisfaction. "Now go up to your room and get cleaned up. I don't want my kids seeing you like that."

Are you done yet, Mom?" Dorothy called down from upstairs.

"Yes, honey." Sarah stretched the long arms that had just beaten me to a pulp. Then she climbed the stairs.

......................................................................................CONTINUED

[sandorr]

CONTINUED

I found it hard to get back up. I was hurting everywhere. At first I thought there had to be broken bones, I hurt so much. There were certainly dozens of bruises, but I couldn't find anything broken.

I crept upstairs to my room. I couldn't do anything else. Sarah was so strong. I dared not disobey her.  I had agreed to her terms just to prevent her hitting me again. I'd agreed to be her unpaid farmhand for as long as she chose to keep me here. But I'd done it under duress. It was not an agreement I needed to honor. Painfully, I washed and slumped onto the narrow bed.

I was still covered in bruises when Sarah opened the bedroom door the next morning. I was stiff, my whole body hurt, and I could barely move. My face was bruised and swollen.

"I did a half-way good job, didn't I?" the tall young woman said, studying my injuries, "I don't like it when people lie to me."

I tried to rise, but it hurt too much. "You hit so hard!" I moaned.

"Last night was only a taste of what I can do if I get really pissed off," she said. "I may not look it, but I'm as strong as a horse. I once put a guy in hospital for eighteen weeks, just with these." She clenched her fists. "Now you better stay in bed today. You're not fit for work. You should feel better tomorrow. Meanwhile, I put your car in one of the barns so nobody will see it."

I didn't move at all that day. The next day when Sarah came in, a lot of the bruising had subsided. Even so, my body still hurt a lot.

"You'll live," she said. "You'll just have light duties today."

"I need more rest," I said.

"You heard me." Sarah frowned. Suddenly she bent and gripped the edge of the bed. Her biceps swelled as she moved her arms upward, upending the bed, and tipping me out on the floor, the mattress on top of me. "Oooooww!" I hurt all over. 

"Don't rile me." Sarah said. "I want to see you downstairs, dressed, in ten minutes."

"Okay," said Sarah, when she saw me, "fix yourself some breakfast, then clean the kitchen, sweep the place out, then do all that ironing," She pointed.

"Yes ma'am," I nodded.

I saw the two kids looking at me curiously. My new demeanor, and the bruises still visible on my face must have told them what had happened to me.

"Don't leave the house," Sarah ordered. "No-one else is to come inside either." She left me to my work and went across to the outbuildings.

An hour later I saw the tall blonde come back toward the house. She was wearing a thin tee shirt, her jeans tucked into tall riding boots.

"You can take a rest," she said, after inspecting my cleaning. "I'll let you sit out on the porch for a few minutes. Bring some lemonade."

Sarah sat on a tall chair on the porch while I slumped into the old rocking chair. Finishing her lemonade before me, she walked to the end of the porch and began to slam some more heavy punches into the leather punchbag that hung there. Again I was impressed by how hard she could hit. The hundred pound punchbag bent, rocked and jerked beneath a sequence of powerful blows.

"You hit SO hard!" i said.

"Remember that. I can knock you cold with just one punch" she said, "-anytime I want. Just like I did the first day."

Suddenly Earl called out. "There's a truck on the way here,"

Sarah stopped punching and turned to look toward the road.

"Yes. It's coming this way," she said, turning to me. "I don't know who it is, so I'm going to have to put you somewhere safe." 

"What..." I began, but had no time to say anything more as she bent, slipped her arms beneath the rocking chair, then picked it right up off the ground, with me in it!

"No," I cried out, as I felt myself rising with the wooden chair beneath me. I hadn't imagined she could do this.  Her strength was dominating. I tried to get out of the seat, frightened she would drop the chair and me, but I was already too high as Sarah stood tall. She was cradling the chair's rockers at shoulder height. Seated on the chair, I was much higher, almost dizzyingly high, my head nine feet above the floor as she turned with me, the chair cradled in her arms.

"Mom, you're so strong!" Even the kids were surprised. "I didn't know you could do that!"

"I can do a lot of things, honey," Sarah negotiated the two steps down off the porch. "And I get a little bit stronger every day." She was still holding me and the rocking chair in that high cradle so that she could see where she was going through the struts.

She carried me seventy yards across the farmyard, toward one of the big barns. I was too surprised and afraid of falling to struggle so I had a good view from this height. I could see a small truck coming up the track from the highway. It was still about a quarter mile away, but it would be here soon. We were approaching some steps leading up to an open hatchway with double doors.

Sarah's hold on the chair was still firm as I felt her carry me up the steps toward the open hatchway. I rose higher and higher as the hatchway yawned wide in front of me. It was then that I realised what was going to happen - but  I couldn't do anything to stop it. Sarah halted at the top of the steps, then tilted the far side of the rocker, to tip me out of the seat I toppled in through the open hatchway.

I gave a cry as I fell into the darkness, plummeting ten feet to crash on to a deep pile of grain. I was shocked. Looking round I could see that I was in an enclosed silo with the hatchway opening eight feet above me.

"You'll be safe there," Sarah was looking down at me, the wooden rocker still in her arms.  "I'll let you out later." She turned away and closed the hatch doors, sealing me in  my thick-walled prison. There was no way out,  the eight feet climb up a sheer wall to the hatchway was too high.

I swore. It was dark, but for a few thin chinks between the thick wooden planks that formed the grain store. I managed to squint through one of the chinks as I heard the  truck draw up. I heard the doors slam and something heavy unloaded. I tried to bang on the wall, but the wood was so old and thick it made hardly any sound. Ten minutes later I heard the truck start again and drive off. She had stymied me .

Nine feet above me the wooden hatchway doors swung open. I saw Sarah looking down at me. "Okay. You can come out now."

"How do I get out?"

"The same way you came in," Sarah said. She planted her hands on the edge of the hatchway and vaulted  through, landing on her feet beside me. "The grain comes out a chute lower down," she said. "We'll have to climb out." She bent, gripped me round the knees, then straightened lifting me high enough for me to see out of the hatchway. I grabbed the edge, and struggled to pull myself out. Sarah let go of my legs and jumped, her hands clamping on to the hatchway beside me.

Then, flexing her long arms, she drew her body smoothly up level with mine, then higher. I saw her chunky arm muscles thicken as she continued to press herself up and out of the hatchway. She turned to face me, grabbing me under the arms and hauling me up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I got a delivery," she pointed.

I saw a large crate, about eight feet long by four high, out on to the ground. She walked toward it.

"Whats in it mommy?" Earl ran up.

"Let's take a look." the crate was made of heavy planks nailed to a strong wooden frame.

Sarah levered her fingers beneath one of the inch-thick  planks. Bracing her other hand against the crate, she pulled. There was a deep creaking as the muscles of her arm swelled and hardened,  then a loud tearing and cracking of the wood, as her big bicep contracted. She simply ripped the crate open. The plank split apart as she put it aside, tearing off the next and the next .

I watched her  rip the crate apart with her bare hands. It was more convenient than using crowbars. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying the exercise, tearing the big planks apart with her strong arms, telling me to pile the wood against the barn wall. Wihin a few minutes the heavy crate was reduced to a pile of timbers.

Inside was a piece of heavy machinery.

"It's my new generator." she said.

A metal plate said, Gross weight 188 pounds, but she just swept up the 190 pound generator in her arms and carried it in to the barn as I tidied up the remains of the crate.

As I finished, she scooped me up once more in her strong arms. I began to struggle.

"Don't do that," she said softly.
 
"Or what?" I said

She put me down Her fist clenched and there was a explosion in my head. I came to on the porch.

"That was two hours this time, mommy. Did you hit him harder than the first day?"

"I told you I can put you out anytime," Sarah said. "Don't get me irritated in any way, understand?"

I nodded. Even two days after the last beating, my bruises still hurt. She carried me back to the house and put me down in the kitchen. "Okay. Get back to work. I want to see the rest of this house so clean, it sparkles," she said. "Don't come out until you're done."

"Yes, ma'am," I said.