The Country Girl - Part 5
by Jon
Sarah the enforcer


Part 1 of this story is here:-

http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/1misc17/sarah01.txt

I woke up in my narrow bed. It was dark. I had decided I was going to have to
leave tonight. The farmhouse was silent. I drew on my clothes and crept down
the stairs past the childrens and Sarah's rooms.

I went down the stairs to the hallway and back to the kitchen. I crept through
the back door, and out into the darkness of the farmyard.

Upstairs a light came on a window drew open. I heard the click of a gun, and
then Sarah's voice. "Whoever's out there. Stop or I shoot."

I froze. I knew how good a shot she was. If the tall twenty-eight year-old
could see as much as glimmer of a movement, she could take me out in a second
with that big rifle of hers. But it was pitch dark out in the yard that night.
I was thankful it was overcast. She couldn't see me out here in the blackness.

There was a silence as she vanished from the window. I had a choice, and I had
to make it quickly. I could either give myself up now, before she came outside
with that gun. However I knew she would be angry, and that she would be likely
to punish me with those steely fists - and my escape attempt would be over. Or
I could try and hide in one of the outbuildings, and hope she'd find nothing
and go back to bed.

I chose the second option, and ran into one of the older sheds adjoining the
large barn, pulling the big wooden door shut behind me. I peered out through a
tiny cracked window to see the house.

Sarah emerged onto the porch in loose shorts and a black sleeveless top. I
could see her long legs and arms in a glimmer of light from the house. She was
carrying her heavy rifle, the one with which she had single-handedly destroyed
an entire pack of wolves two days before. Sarah was very tall, with a narrow
waist, long body, wide shoulders and long, leanly muscular arms. She was
blonde, with mid-length tousled hair. Alone on this farm, with just her two
young kids, she had to do an awful lot of heavy work, moving equipment,
manhandling livestock, and throwing 100 pound sacks around. That had made her
long, rangy body steely strong - and she seemed very much to enjoy using her
strength. Her frame didn't carry an ounce of spare flesh. Her hard, hundred
and fifty pounds seemed to be entirely sinew, bone and muscle.

"If there's anyone out there," she said. "You'd better step out where I can
see you with your hands raised. Otherwise I'll shoot."

I was so nervous I could hardly breathe. I knew how well she could shoot. If I
made a mistake now, I could be dead in a splt second.

She walked round the outside of the yard, A flashlight came on and lanced
across the yard. I retreated into the darkness of the cluttered shed. I saw a
pair of narrow doors and crept through them into the small storeroom behind,
pulling the wooden doors shut behind me. Through the crack between the doors I
saw Sarah pull open the shed door and shine her torch round the main room. It
was full of sacks, tools and rusty equipment. I glanced at her long arms,
holding the gun. The muscles clearly defined in the sharp light, the biceps
taut and rounded against her black top.

There was a sound on the far side of the barn. She had the gun aimed and
pointed at the source of the sound inside a second. It was a fallen bag of
screws. She lowered the rifle. This was scary. I didn't dare move a muscle. If
I made a noise, she could blast a big hole right through me in an instant. I
just prayed she wouldn't spot me. This was so stupid!

After an age she seemed to relax, going out of my line of sight toward the
outside door. There was silence.

Suddenly there was a fierce eruption of noise, light and shattered timber as
the pair of double doors, a short way in front of me, came crashing in! Caving
at the center as a slippered foot crashed through, the wood tore into large,
painful shards an inch thick which flew right past me. Both doors were ripped
apart in a fraction of a second as they were slammed violently inward. I was
showered in splinters as a large chunk of wood flew inches past my face.
Shocked and startled, I cowered backward, trying to shield my face, as an
angry Sarah strode through the remains of the shattered doors. I had no time
to react.

CRACKK! A shocking explosion of pain hit the left side of my face as what felt
like a gnarled rock tore in to it, knocking me sideways into a pile of old
kerosine cans. I saw bright lights, and hit the wall. KROOM! A second
appallingly painful blow ripped in to the space beneath my ribs, and I was on
the ground, squirming in pain. I was bleeding.

An angry Sarah stared down at me, fists clenched.

"Get up!" she said.

"Please. No more!" I said, holding up my hands. The six-foot twenty-eight
year-old looked so angry, I was fearful of what she would do to me if I stood
up. I knew how appallingly hard those long, strong arms of hers could hit. It
was hard to believe that just her bare fists had caused all this pain. My
stomach hurt like hell. There were nasty bruises across my cheek and jaw, and
one of my back teeth had come loose.

"Get up NOW," she repeated, "or I will punch the living crap out of you."

"Please," I was frightened to get up, but even more frightened of disobeying
her. I struggled to my feet, my head still spinning. "I'm sorry." I tried to
back out of reach of her long arms - which was difficult. "I just wanted to
get home..."

There was a blur as her right arm moved. I tried to dodge the blow, hoping I
was out of range, but she was too fast, and her reach longer than I expected.
A second huge explosion of pain tore down the left side of my face, centering
on my cheekbone, and I felt myself hurled sideways into a stack of crates. I
hit hard, finding it hard to stay on my feet. I tasted blood on the inside of
my mouth, felt it spilling down my chin. I was disorientated. My head was
spinning. This girl could hit frighteningly hard! Where was she now? I
couldn't see her, and I was a sitting duck if she wanted to hit me again.

Then I heard Sarah's voice. "You broke your word to me when I let you sleep in
the house. Now you've betrayed my trust, and made me damage this building."

"I'm sorry!" I said, holding up a hand in case she hit me again. "I just
wanted to get home. I'll come back, but please don't hit me again."

"You're not coming back in the house." Sarah's lip curled. "You'll stay right
here tonight."

"Stand up against that beam." I winced as her long arm moved, fearing she was
about to hit me again, but she was just pointing to one of the thick, four by
four, timber supports that held up the roof. I did as she ordered. I was a 200
pound man, five feet ten tall and more than ten years older than the slim
twenty-eight year-old in front of me, but I didn't dare disobey her. The
punishment would be too swift and harsh.

She picked up a long iron rod that was propped in a corner. It was about three
feet long and three fourths of an inch thick. I wondered what she intended to
do with it.

"Stand still," she commanded, "..with your back to the post." She watched with
a look of satisfaction on her face as I obeyed her. We both knew now that I
was afraid of what she could do with those stone-hard fists of hers. She was
in absolute charge now.

She stood in front of me with her long hands gripping each end of the iron
rod. Suddenly the muscles flickered and hardened along her arms as they began
to put pressure onto the bar. I watched, fascinated, as the steel bar began to
bend visibly under the pressure. Within seconds her strong arms had bowed it
into a broad C-shape. There was a confident look on her face now, as the dense
muscles on her arms swelled and hardened. The iron bar began to creak, patches
of rust flaking off its surface, as it was bent remorselessly into a horseshoe
shape. Sarah was demonstrating that her arms were stronger than the steel! She
released one end of the twisted bar, and hooked it around the post behind my
neck.

"Stay perfectly still," her soft voice ordered. "Don't move a muscle. " Her
hands clamped on to both ends of the bar again - and then they began to twist,
forcing the two ends of the iron bar toward each other in front of me.
Switching hands, she gave a grimace as the long triceps flared along the back
of her arms - and with a metallic groan, the bar started to bend again, the
ends crossing a foot in front of my throat, forming a circle of iron around my
neck and the thick timber post.

Those long arms still weren't finished. They applied more pressure, forcing
the steel noose tighter and tighter, crossing under my chin so that I was held
firm. Another flare of her big arm muscles, and the noose tightened so I could
barely move . She gave a smirk of triumph as she inserted a finger between the
twisted bar and my neck, finding barely a half-inch of wiggle room.

"That should do," she said, letting go of the bar and stepping behind me. Her
hands grasped the free ends of the bar, and there was another groan from the
metal as she bent both ends behind the post. She stepped back in front of me
in her loose night clothes. I was pinned to the pillar by a twisted iron bar
around my neck. Sarah admired her handiwork and flexed her arm, smiling at her
outsize bicep.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said. Picking up her rifle from a packing
case she walked out the main door, shutting and bolting it behind her, leaving
me in darkness. There was silence.

After a while I tried to move. But the twisted iron bar held my neck firmly to
the post, and the ends seemed a long way behind me. As long as it pinned me
here I had to stay standing exactly where I was. My arms were free, but I
couldn't move or sit. I reached behind me, managing to grasp the ends of the
bars, but however much I tried I couldn't budge them an inch. My arms were at
a poor angle for exerting much power, but there was no give in the bar at all.
Sarah had twisted the metal bars round each other so that I couldn't untwist
them! I was trapped.

I spent an awful night, pinned to the post as the blood from my lip and nose
dried on my face. It seemed about five or six hours before daylight and at
last Sarah came back. She opened the main door and observed me with
satisfaction. Her five and six year-old kids, Earl and Dorothy, followed her
in.

"I don't want to hear you make a sound," Sara glared at me, "not until I give
you permission to speak."

As a six foot tall, 200 pound man, I felt ashamed to be intimidated by this
tall good looking young woman, but I kept silent.

.

"What have you done to him, mommie?" the six year-old Dorothy asked..

"I had to make sure he couldn't move. He tried to run off last night."

She stepped behind me and there was a groan from the metal as her strong arms
untwisted the bar enough to free me.

As I rubbed my bruised neck and slumped onto a packing case, the two kids took
the bar and tried to straighten it between them, but it wouldn't move an inch.

"It's hard, mommy!" Earl said.

"I'll show you, honey," Sarah grasped the twisted bar at either end, and began
to straighten it out! The muscles on her long arms hardened and defined as she
concentrated her effort on completely unwrapping the iron bar. "Of course
mommy has real strong arms," she said as she forced the bar straight once
more. "When you get a lot older, if you've inherited your mommy's strength,
and if you work at it real hard, you may be able to do this. But there's not
many people who can straighten out a steel bar." She forced the bar is near as
was possible into a straight line. There were still a few kinks in the bar
where she had bent it, but it was as straight as she could make it. She was so
slim but her strength in her arms was amazing.

She held the straightened bar in one hand and made a muscle for the kids.

"You're real strong, mommy," Earl said, feeling the bicep. "It's so hard! I
can't crush it, however hard I squeeze."

Sarah tensed her arm a little bit more. "Owww!" the boy said, "It grew, and
forced my hand open!"

The twenty-eight year-old blonde grinned, letting her arm relax. "Mommy's
muscles are real solid. It's all the hard work she has to do. Now our visitor
has been very naughty, and mommy's going to show him he has to obey the
rules."

"Get up!" Sarah said to me. I obeyed, remembering I had still not been
permitted to speak. She stepped round behind me, stooping as her arm looped
around my waist and tightened. Then she straightened her legs, lifting me off
the ground from behind, draping my body backward over one shoulder while her
free arm held my legs down in front of her. I suddenly found myself splayed
back the wrong way across her bony shoulder, moaning in pain from my back.

"Are you hurting him, mommy?" Dorothy looked up at me with a little concern.

"Only a little," she said, striding out the door with me. "Just enough to make
him learn his lesson."

By the time we got half way to the house, however, the pain in my back, as my
whole weight bore down on it, was like a knife down my spine.

"Please. Please put me down!" I begged. Her iron-hard shoulder was ripping
into my back.

"He seems to be hurting a lot, mommy," Dorothy said. "Don't be too rough with
him."

"Okay," Sarah halted. "I'll let him down." She lowered me mercifully to my
feet. I could barely stand. My back still hurt like hell. "But you better
behave."

I was angry now, and wanted to turn and hit this six-foot young woman

"You want to take a shot?" She saw my look. Her long, lithely muscular arms
spread out startlingly wide, forming an arc nearly six feet across, as the
hands beckoned me inward.

No. I realized at once. That would be a very bad mistake. I didn't want to
tangle with this strong, six foot young woman in my current state. My back
hurt bad, and I knew that the tall young woman's arms could administer a world
of hurt. I took a step backward and shook my head.

"Wise choice," Sarah nodded, relaxing her arms a little. "Try anything on me,
and I'll give you the thrashing of your life."

The humiliating thing was she wasn't boasting. She could do it, anytime she
felt like it. I felt completely helpless. I had to do what she said, whether I
lked it or not. It was an unnerving feeling to be in such a subservient
position.

"Okay," she said. "You're going to do a lot of work today." I saw that Joe,
her casual hand was here, loading a trailer with spades. He was about thirty
years of age, slightly chubby at five foot nine and around 160 pounds. I
climbed on the trailer with him as Sarah drove us out to dig out some ditches
along a track at the eastern edge of her property. She told us to clear out
all the obstructions, watched us get started, and drove back toward the farm.

The work was hard and muddy. After a while I stopped. "Why the hell am I doing
this?" I said. "I'm not even getting paid!"

"Ms Sarah says you still owe her for damaging her property. You have to work
until it's paid off."

"I have much more important things I need to be doing," I said, dropping my
spade. "I think I'm going to walk right out of here.."

"You better not," Joe said. "She knows this country a lot better than you do.
She'll catch you easy."

"You won't tell her which way I went?"

"I have to. She's my boss. If she fired me, me and my uncle wouldn't be able
to live here any more. Our holding won't support us on its own. And all the
water we have comes from Ms Sarah's land. We'd have to sell up and leave if
she stopped us using it."

"That's your problem. She can't force me to stay here and work against my
will!" I said.

"Ms Sarah can do pretty much anything she wants to out here," Joe said. "It
doesn't pay to try to go against her. Most of the other farms in this valley
depend on Ms Sarah's land for water or access. If she wanted, she could close
them down tomorrow. They aren't about to take anyone's part against her."

"I'll go to the police!" I said.

"The police in town are a lot more likely to believe what Ms Sarah says than
anything you tell them," Joe said. "If they have to take your word against
hers, I'm betting they'll take hers."

I had to think about this. It was clearly no use making another unplanned
break for it. Today, at least, I had to work. Over the next couple of hours we
worked our way along the ditch to where the track split, a hundred yards from
where we had started digging, A branch ran downhill to a small group of farm
buildings on the edge of some woods.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Old Mrs Hammond's farm," Joe said. "It's a small place that borders on Ms
Sarah's land."

"I need a drink of water," I said. "I'm going down there. Are you coming?"

"I don't think we ought. Ms Sarah hasn't said..."

"I'm going," I said, thinking that maybe I might find transport out of here.

Joe followed. He was far too used to obeying Sarah, I thought.

We'd got to the edge of the farm buildings when suddenly Sarah appeared with
the trailer. She stopped, turned off the motor, and got out. "Who said you
could come down here?" she demanded.

I tried to suppress a feeling of nervousness. Sarah looked irritated, and I
didn't want to give her any cause to hit me again. She was so tall, and she
looked real strong in her denim shirt and jeans. The jeans were tight, forced
to follow the shape of legs that were packed with muscle. "We just needed
something to drink.." I explained.

"Get back up to the track, both of you," she ordered. "I'm surprised at you,
Joe."

"Sorry, Ms Sarah," Joe began.

Just then a middle-aged woman emerged from one of the farm buildings, and
called out to Sarah. She was stocky, and barely came up to Sarah's shoulder.

"That's Mrs Hammond," Joe said.

"Sarah! I'm so glad to see you." The woman looked anxious.

"I've been having trouble with some squatters on my land," she explained.
"They moved a trailer into my woods. It was just for a couple of days, they
said, but now they won't leave. The two men are on the farm now. They said
they'd do some work for me, but all they do is get drunk."

"Where are they?" Sarah asked.

"They're in that barn," she pointed. "They found some whiskey, and barricaded
themselves up in the storage loft. "They piled stuff against the door so I
can't get in. They've both been up there for hours."

"I'll get them out for you," Sarah glanced up at the loft, "though I may have
to do a little damage. Those doors up there.." She pointed to a pair of closed
wooden shutter doors, just beneath the arm of a timber hoist that stuck out
from the roof. "Do they lead into the loft?"

Mrs Hammond nodded.

Sarah walked to where a long rope hung down from a pulley on the hoist. She
took off her blue denim shirt to reveal a small white under-vest beneath, held
in place by a thin white spaghetti strap that was dwarfed by her rugged
bronzed shoulders. The tight top left her stomach, arms and shoulders bare .
Squared abdominals formed a dense wall of solid muscle across her stomach,
matching the rest of the muscles on her rangy frame. Her hands grasped the
rope high above her head. Then she flexed her long arms, drawing herself
smoothly off the ground.

She hung there for a second, and then began to hoist herself up the rope, hand
over hand. She climbed using just her arms, one arm gripping the rope above
her head, then flexing to pull her body smoothly upward until her shoulders
were level with her gripping hand. Her other arm then swept upward to grip the
rope three feet higher up, and repeated the process. Her long biceps balled
into dense, hard boulders as her arms flexed, her flaring deltoids bunching
and rippling. She pulled herself up the rope entirely by arm power, her legs
hanging free as a dead weight. She could have used them to grip the rope if
she'd chosen to, but I got the feeling it would only have slowed her down. Her
arms were easily powerful enough to pull her whole bodyweight up the swinging
rope with remarkable speed.

"Miss Sarah is real strong," Mrs Hammond noted with admiration. "Neither of my
sons could climb a rope like that. I guess that's one reason they went off to
work in the city. But how is she going to get in the attic?"

Once Sarah was close to the top of the rope, about twenty-five feet above our
heads, she began to swing herself back and forward on the rope toward the
locked storage loft doors, taking bigger and bigger swings. Gripping the rope
firmly with both hands, she piked her long legs, drawing her knees up into her
chest as she swung toward the locked doors then back out again.

When she got to the closest point of her next swing, her long legs suddenly
kicked explosively outward. Her feet crashed into the locked timber doors,
bursting them open with an eruption of noise and a shower of broken timbers.
She swung outward with the reaction to her kick, then back in again, letting
go of the rope to leap into the loft through the space she had blasted open.

"Whew!" the older woman gasped. "I never thought she could do anything like
that!"

The sound of blows and cries of alarm came from within the shattered doors. I
heard a series of solid blows landing along with some muffled groans of pain.
Then there was silence. Mrs Hammond and I ran into the barn in time to see
Sarah walk down the steps carrying an injured man over each shoulder. Both of
us gasped. Each man must weigh around 170 pounds. Yet Sarah looked poised as a
model as she came down the stairs with them draped over her broad shoulders.
She didn't look at all marked but the nearest guy was. His face was bloodied
and his nose broken. As she came toward the barn doors, she let both men slip
from her shoulders to fall on to the dry earth floor..

One of the two young men looked out for the count. He lay still, and didn't
move. However the other, a bearded man of about twenty five, immediately
stumbled back to his feet. He moaned, then tried to lash out at her. I say
"tried", because he got nowhere.She took a half step back. Her big right arm
came up and across, and the guy just hit the floor, a new trail of blood
running from his mouth. "Don't try that again," she warned, "..or I'll really
whale the tar out of you."

Just then the second man gave a moan and a shudder and began to stumble to his
feet. If anything, he looked in a worse state than the first. His face was
badly cut and bruised, his right eye closed, and blood was running freely from
a cut lip. He steadied himself, as if trying to clear his head, and then made
a running charge at Sarah.

The tall twenty-eight year old didn't flinch. She just delivered a single big
punch with each of her long, solidly-muscled arms. CRACCK! CRUNNNK! The first
huge impact stopped the guy dead in his tracks. The second seemed almost to
lift him off the floor as it sent him sprawling on his back. I could see that
he was out cold before he hit the ground. Sarah's arms were chillingly
effective.

"I don't think he'll give any more trouble."

"Whew! Sarah!" Mrs Hammond gasped in admiration. "You sure can handle
yourself."

"I have to," Sarah said. "Running that big farm all by myself. I need to keep
strong."

Even as she spoke, the second man got up and made a run for the farmyard.
There was a horse loosely tethered near the stable. The bearded man clambered
up on to its back, attempting to ride off the farm. Sarah ran out to stand in
his way, stretching her long arms out wide, to stop and confuse the horse. The
horse panicked slightly, seeing this tall figure with a six feet six inch
wingspan, suddenly blocking its path. It veered to the left, slowing as the
rider urged it past.

There wasn't much space left for the horse to pass between Sarah and the barn.
As it cantered past her, Sarah's long left arm stretched out coiled round the
rider's waist, and simply swept him out of the saddle and right off the back
of the horse. he seemed to hang poised in the air for an instant, with Sarah's
arm curled round his waist, before falling heavily to the hard-packed ground.

"Ooooouuuugh!" his cry of pain echoed around the farm as he lay half-stunned
on the ground.

The horse that Sarah had taken him off had now trapped itself in a corner
between two outbuildings. It was confused and rearing. Sarah strode toward it.

"Don't!" Mrs Hammond said. "That horse can be dangerous. It's half-wild!"

"I can handle it." Sarah stretched her long arms wide once more, to hem the
creature in to its corner. She closed in on it, whispering to calm it as she
approached. The horse seemed to know instinctively that Sarah was boss,
retreating before her outstretched arms. It went quiet as she approached and
gently placed her arms round its neck. It started to flinch, but, using her
strong arms to hold its head still, she began to whisper to it once more.
After a few moments, she swung up on to its back.

The saddle had come free, but her strong thighs gripped the horse tightly,
holding her firmly on the bare back. Her slim body was straight as her long,
heavy arms held the reins. Within moments the horse seemed completely under
her control.

The bearded man had got up from where he had fallen after being swept off the
horse's back, and now he began to run toward the woods. Sarah, on horseback,
quickly caught up with him. She rode round in front of him, as if she was
rounding up a calf. He tried to dodge out of her way, but she kept
intercepting him, and cutting off his escape.

Moving alongside him, she leapt off her horse, bringing him heavily to the
ground. Rolling on top of him, her arms linked around his waist from behind.
Standing, she pulled him up with her to his feet. He looked winded and
semi-stunned. Then, with a quick bend of her knees, she swung him up much
higher - up, and back, over her right shoulder, his spine arching over her
shoulderblade, his legs hanging down in front of her. The upper half of his
body hung down her back. I looked at his upside-down face at the height of
Sarah's waist. He was struggling to free himself, howling with surprise and
pain. As I already knew, this was an extremely painful way to be lifted. I
didn't envy him. Sarah carrying the burden with no sign of effort, stretched
her body to its full height, raising him another four inches, her right arm
holding him in place. She turned to face me and Mrs Hammond, raised her free
left arm, and flexed it.

"Wooohoo!" Joe had appeared, and clapped Sarah's feat.

She grinned wider, hardening her flex, the bicep of her left arm swelling into
a starkly defined ball of surprising size. I could see that this was no
trouble at all for her. Although her victim must have weighed at least 170
pounds, Sarah simply overpowered him. It was no contest. She turned and walked
toward the woods. The guy was clearly in agony.

"Owww You're breaking my back!" he howled. He was wriggling, howling in pain
to be free. But Sarah was completely and totally in charge.

"Be quiet!" Sarah strode onward. "You'll only injure yourself struggling, and
you're not getting down till we're there. The long biceps swelled as her arms
tightened their grip. He moaned again. He was pinned helplessly across her
shoulders. I could see the big, squared abdominals ripple sexily as they
emerged from the waistline of her faded jeans.

It was a quarter mile to the clearing where the squatters' trailer was parked.
The man was still moaning softly, his body hanging limply now from the tall
young woman's shoulder - as if he were unconscious.

Sarah lowered him to the ground as a huge 5 foot 10 inch tall woman opened the
door of the trailer and stepped out.

"Hey. Aunt Emma.." The young man called out as he tried to stand. But he
couldn't stay on his feet, he was clearly in too much pain from his tortured
back. Sarah didn't look surprised as the tall man fell to his knees, holding
his back in his hands. "Owwww!" He fell sideways to the ground.

Now that she had emerged from her trailer I could see that "Aunt Emma" was a
very big woman. She as huge and solid, wearing a vast, tentlike dress, and had
to weigh at least 300 pounds.

And she wasn't alone. Straining on a leash was a Great Dane dog that looked
about five feet high.

"I've come to tell you to get your trailer out of here," Sarah said. "You and
your relatives aren't wanted here." She looked at her watch. "You have forty
minutes to leave!"

"Forty minutes, you skinny little bitch?" the huge woman exploded. "I'll give
you forty minutes!" She released the barking hound, which hurled itself toward
Sarah.

The six-foot blonde took a single step back as the creature lunged forward to
attack. Without warning, her long right arm lanced upward in a raking uppercut
that was timed exactly to meet the advancing mastiff's head. There was a
horrible hollow crack as her blocky fist connected unerringly with the big
dog's jaw. I heard its teeth crack together as it's head was hurled violently
backward and to the left by the huge blow. The blow was so harsh that it
seemed to drag the whole heavy body up and backward along with the head. The
dog's body twisted to one side, then dropped like a stone. It didn't move.

"What did you do?" the big woman came thundering forward, appalled to see her
150 pound dog laid out with one blow from this slender young woman.

"Stop NOW!" Sarah's powerful voice echoed across the clearing as her long arms
stretched out, caught the 300 pound woman by both shoulders, and slammed her
back into the wall of the trailer. The impact was shocking. The whole trailer
rocked as Emma slammed back into it.

"You better not fool with me." Sarah said as her arms drew back, her fists
clenched alongside her. From behind, her arms and shoulders formed the shape
of a "W", her arms folding to resemble big wings that dominated her body. They
were much longer than Emma's, with blocky, businesslike fists on the end of
each one.

An enraged Emma charged forward. She was big and heavy, and looked very
strong, but Sarah's long arms looked ominously powerful.

CRACK! A punishing punch, fast and harsh, lashed into the side of the woman's
heavy head from Sarah's right arm. The blow was so fast, I saw it as little
more than a blur. The twenty-eight year-old's reach was deceptive, as she
could twist her body into a punch, gaining her another eighteen inches more
reach than her three foot long arm already provided.

To my surprise, the huge woman stopped dead, clearly shocked by the force of
the tall young woman's punch. A fierce second punch sent her staggering
drunkenly backward, a huge bruise rising across the left side of her face. The
larger woman hadn't touched her yet, and she was still out of range. Sarah had
so much strength in those long arms of hers! Even looking at her rangy, six
foot, sleekly muscular frame it was hard to appreciate how hard she could hit.
The big woman shook her head, trying to clear it, clearly disconcerted by the
power with which this slim young woman could strike.

Again Emma came forward. It still looked like she could snap Sarah in two. But
it was a mistake. Sarah had the advantage of at least a foot more reach than
the big woman, and she continued to use it. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Sarah's long
arms moved unbelievably fast, and with punishing power. Each of the new blows
was at least as hard as her first shattering blow.

Sarah's long arms struck calmly, expertly, yet with bludgeoning power.

"Ouuuughh! Ooouuugghhhh! Ooooowwwww!" The big woman was emitting cries of pain
and surprise as she was again beaten back by Sarah's stony fists. She was
visibly shocked by the pain and the sheer power of Sarah's punches.

She tried to gather herself and swing at Sarah with her meaty arms. But she
didn't get close to hitting the rangy six-footer. Sarah just scowled, kept her
head and upper body well out of range, then responded with three more
devastating blows. I flinched as the fierce sound of the impacts rang across
the clearing. Far from weakening, the noise seemed to be getting louder as
Sarah had more time to prepare each punch. The 300 pound woman staggered
backward under the onslaught, barely able to stay on her feet. She looked
terrible, her face bruised and bloody. Her body shaken.

Sarah had now landed eight hard punches and taken none in return. Already her
opponent looked half way to collapse. Her movements had slowed, and were
becoming more and more unco-ordinated. She was starting to stagger and
stumble.

As if to demonstrate her dominance, Sarah stepped in close for the first time.
She bent, swept an arm around the huge woman's legs, then lifted her
physically up off the ground! I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen her
do it. The tall, slim young farmer just lifted the five ten, 300 pound woman
right up to shoulder height in her arms.

Sarah held her there for a moment, before suddenly letting her drop from
nearly six feet up, back down to the stony ground. KRUMMP! The impact was so
heavy that the ground seemed to shake. There was a huge groan from the larger
woman as a cloud of dust came up from where she hit the ground.

Emma was tough. I'll give her that. She tried to get up, managing at last to
stagger to her feet. But I could see that she was no longer any match at all
for the tall twenty-eight year old. The big woman's capacity to resist was
almost entirely degraded, while Sarah was unhurt, and still looked fresh.

"Are you going to leave now?" Sarah asked.

"No. You supercilious bitch!" The older woman roared, lurching forward once
more.

I watched Sarah take a half step forward, knowing that this was just
punishment now. The 300 pound woman had as much chance against her now as a
small kid against a professional boxer. Sarah's muscular arms slammed two more
shattering punches into Emma's face and body. The larger woman groaned and
staggered backward, bleeding. She was an open target now. Sarah could have
slammed in as many more of those powerful blows as she wanted. Instead, Sarah
stepped forward to gather the huge woman up in her arms again. I didn't
believe she could repeat her earlier feat. But she did. She raised the huge
body nearly six feet up, and then slammed her down once more onto the stony
ground. The three hundred pound woman, just lay there, still, as Sarah looked
down at her.

"Had enough?" the tall, rangy figure asked.

"Yes. Yes, ma'am! I'll leave. I can't take any more of that! You are just so
strong!"

"I'm glad you realize it," Sarah pointed to the trailer. "I want you and those
two boys out of the county by sundown."

Emma staggered back to her feet. She looked so bad, I found it hard to look at
her. her face was cut, bruised and distorted. There was a huge black bruise
about four inches across beneath her reddened eye. Her lip was cut deeply
above a missing tooth, spreading a trail of spattered blood down her plaid
shirt. Her nose was badly deformed and also left a trail of blood. There was a
large cut along her left cheek where Sarah's fist had struck with such force
it had cracked the cheekbone as her knuckles cut deep into the skin. The
damage to her body was less apparent, but I could guess from the stiff way
that she moved that it was covered with darkening bruises.

"What about my dog?" The woman looked round.

"You shouldn't have sent him at me. I had to defend myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I had to hit him real hard to be certain to stop him." Sarah looked away.

She rushed to where the big dog lay. It was completely still, and I noticed a
trickle of blood running from its mouth. "He's not breathing," the big woman
said in panic. "He's dead! You killed him!"

Sarah looked at the nails of her fist. "There was always a danger a blow that
hard might kill it. He was unlucky. Now you better take the body and move
out."

The big woman looked like she could kill Sarah. But she was frightened of the
slim young woman now. One look at Sarah's face and she looked nervous again.

"No No I won't do anything. Just let me and my boys leave quietly."

Sarah nodded, watching as the three packed up, attached the trailer to an old
battered truck and pulled away.

"She thought she was too big for me to hurt her," Sarah said, shaking out her
long arms. "She learned different."

.

.

Part 1 of this story sequence is here:-

http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/1misc17/sarah01.txt

Parts 2, 3 and 4 are here:-

http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/1misc17/sarah2.txt

http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/1misc17/sarah03.txt

http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/1misc17/sarah04.txt