However desperate her situation seemed, Kriss kept struggling to get herself off the bike. But her attempts were getting less frantic, and more spaced. Heaving on the yoke was slowly exhausting her reserves of energy. Every now and then, she fought against her fate. Burst of fierce belle jingling echoed among the tall ruined walls and then she fell back, panting and hissing, forced by the yoke to look skywards at the faint stars.<br/><br/>It struck her that she had never seen the stars like that, so bright, so numerous. Back in the old time, pollution and lights had made them pale or even invisible. And since the city was dead, she had never had the time nor the inspiration to stare at the sky.<br/><br/>Suddenly she heard a noise coming from one of the nearby buildings. She froze, reducing her breathing to a shallow, regular stream of air as she waited and listened. She contorted her neck in the yoke, trying to look in the direction was coming from but it was out of her field of sight and she did not dare to move the yoke to reposition her head in a better position. Footsteps sounds, coming closer fast, and suddenly a male voice and the his owner came in sight, towering over her helpless, half-naked body.<br/><br/>She looked at the man. His face was hard to see against the sky, shadowed by his hat. But his words were not harsh, even helpful. It was unlikely that he belonged to the Patricks though. Rather one of those street rats who tried to survive alone.<br/><br/><strong>"Yes... Those bastards from St-Patrick,"</strong>she whispered, answering his question.<strong>"Could you help me?"</strong><br/><br/>They way he cut the leash connecting her nose to the bike, efficient and careful, reassured her. At least this one was not willing to hurt her. Maybe he did not know her, or he had not recognised her, or he just did not care... She felt his strong, calloused hands grab her under her armpits, lift her torso, and begin to pull her off the tube. The rusty piece of metal ground at her rectum as it was slowly moving out of it, causing her to clench her eyes and hiss through her teeth as she fought not to scream from the unbearable pain. As it finally came out of her butt, there was a noisy fart which she quickly shut off by clenching her buttocks tight.<br/><br/>Helped by the Samaritan, as she was calling her inwardly, she limped towards the building he had come from. He was not only helping her to carry the weight of the yoke but he was also holding the bells, preventing them from ringing and broadcasting their presence to everybody. He led her downstairs into the guts of the building.<br/><br/>The light was dim, which she was appreciating. This man did not seem to know her. This was quite possible, but he could not have missed to have heard of her, unless he never talked to anybody. But, now that she was only wearing a tank top, only her red mane might give her up. In the poor light, this might go unnoticed.<br/><br/>As he washed the cum that had dried all over her face, his touch was smooth and she was grateful for it. The dried streaks of sperm had been itching madly. Still, he could do little for the stench that was coming from her hair, but she felt far better. She welcomed the water and drank the whole cup. Her mouth was dry and parched as she had not be given anything to drink since her capture. The foul-tasted liquid restored some of her energy.<br/><br/><strong>"Thank you so much!"</strong>she said as she tried to relax on the comfortable chair.<strong>"You are really saving my life. I was scavenging for food when I stumbled on a patrol of those bastards from the cathedral. They said I was stealing what belonged to them and see how they arranged me. I'll kill them if I ever get my hands on them! Please, could you help me out of this yoke? It is grinding into the skin of my neck and wrists and I can hardly bear it any longer. I have collected quite a bit of useful stuff in my lair, down to the south. Help me out and I promise I won't be ungrateful." </strong>