Message-ID: <3828eli$9709062220@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Francis Dashwood Subject: Lauren Gisal Book 2 Chapter 40-42 of 59 (ff/mf/Ff/Mf/inc,cons,nc) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199709052328.RAA02507@shaman.lycaeum.org> Lauren Gisal Volume Two The following fiction portrays events that will be considered offensive to some people. Graphic scenes are described of sexual intercourse by teenagers, adults, with and without their consent. Later chapters deal with punishment. If you are offended by such material, or if you are considered a minor in your country, then delete this file. The author hereby permits the redistribution of the attached material on the understanding that it is not for financial gain and it is credited to the author, Francis Dashwood. Please do not request reposts of this material. Constructive criticism is welcomed. Chapter 40 She felt the blunt end of the vibrator running over the material of her bikini following the lips of her pussy. She still thought it was about the size of him but there was no elasticity at all. Her fear returned as he shuffled around between her legs, pulled the bikini bottom down her legs slightly and then pulled the material to one side. He placed the great tool at the entrance to her pussy before pushing slowly. It entered her with some difficulty, its width pushing her lips apart as it disappeared between her constrained legs. "Oh wow, that's so good" she said with relief, bringing her legs back once again towards her breasts. Felix manipulated it slowly, pushing it deep inside her, turning it and then pulling it almost all the way. "Want to try?" he asked, kneeling upright beside her. Lauren smiled, closed her eyes, reached down and gripped the rounded end tightly, ensuring she didn't twist the end and turn it on. Summoning a little courage, she pushed it in, inhaling sharply as it slid hard against the top of her vagina. Through her eyelids she could see him, his cock in his hand, stroking himself slowly in time with her own movements. She removed it from her pussy, anxious to get on with the real purpose of the afternoon, and handed it back to him. It glistened. Felix positioned himself once again between her legs while she pulled her knickers up again, covering her pussy and anus to some extent from his view and preserving the very last of her modesty. She felt the hardness of the vibrator against her anus and pushed her hand through the bikini to both guide it and be ready to stop him if the pain became too intense. "Push against it, open yourself." he said, pushing gently against her opening. Lauren gripped the plastic rod, ensuring that it rested against her tight brown hole as evenly as possible. The heat, from where she had no idea, began to build again as the muscles slowly resisted the intrusion. She threw her head back hard against the white pillow, inhaling loudly as the bulbous head pushed the muscles apart, opening her. She lunged out, grabbing his leg in protest as he withdrew it. Once again dripping in oil, the tool traced around her puckered opening, causing ripples of pleasure to resist its entry. Lauren felt it pass the previous point and longed for the sign that she had stretched enough to accommodate its width. But still it entered deeper and deeper inside her as she felt it slowly slip though her fingers. The density and resistance of the tool frightened her, unyielding, unforgiving in its journey. It pushed her apart, opening her to such an extent that she thought she might be bleeding from torn skin or muscles. "Oh, please. Slowly, really slowly" she said, trailing off in agony as he again withdrew and started again. Remembering his words, she pushed against him, her anus flowering, accommodating, trying desperately to reduce the searing pain. "That's it. It's going in. The head's almost all in!" Lauren didn't acknowledge him. She simply pulled back with all her strength on her legs, raising her bottom higher into the air. She whimpered, a look of fright on her face as she moved frantically against the tool, trying in any way possible to reduce the pain and risk of injury. Suddenly, it entered almost freely. She yelped, half from the agony and half from the triumphant knowledge that the searing pain would not get any worse. Lauren felt it go deeper, knowing for sure that he had entered her with all the width. She pushed, exercising her muscles as though she wanted to go to the toilet. "Yes, good girl, it's gone in easily. Just don't relax quite yet." Lauren locked her elbows behind her knees and let go of the vibrator, spreading her fingers around her anus and pulling at the taut globes of her buttocks, opening herself as far as possible to allow passage. Again, he withdrew the tool, making her squeal as it popped out the last inch. "Oh, yes!" she gasped as she felt the cold air against her anus. She gripped his hand, steadying him in case he had any thoughts of going somewhere else. "Did that feel good?" A dull pain emanated from her groin. Lauren simply nodded, readying herself, pushing her muscles to open her passagewayfor the next push. It came almost immediately, Felix pushing while using his other hand to spread her pussy lips apart, toying with her vagina. He pushed the vibrator deep into her, scaring Lauren until she felt down between her legs and found at least two inches still to go. "Bring your legs down" he said, lying alongside her as she stretched out. He bent her knees slightly and caressed her bottom, cupping the end of the vibrator to stop it coming out. She sniffed, pleasure bubbling through her, washing over the pain and embarrassment such that she laughed with the intensity of the feeling. She reached between her knees and took hold of his cock. A dribble of cum had made its way to the surface and she spread it around carefully. They kissed, Lauren stretching out noisily in celebration of the deep feeling inside her and the pleasure of accommodating the big tool. Felix took her breasts in his hands and kissed her nipples, sending tiny electrical signals through her body, waking her neglected breasts as he ventured up to kiss her neck. She giggled at the intensely sensuous flick of his tongue around her ears, pulling him close as her tongue explored his neck. He turned her onto her side, reducing the pressure from the bed on the tool, then held her tight, squeezing her, maximising the feeling that brewed in her soul. "Turn over, on your hands and knees. Here, I'll help you!" he said, gripping her around the stomach and twisting her over. She nestled into the warm depth of the pillow, allowing her bottom to push up towards the ceiling. She knew that she must look completely obscene, bikini at her knees and a greasy pole protruding from her bottom. She clutched her breasts, pawing them crudely as he pushed again, twisting it occasionally to maximise the intense pleasure that now started to build inside her. Sensing her encouragement, he slid it slowly in and out, pushing and pulling in time with her grunts and movement. "That's enough for today." he said, cupping her pussy. "No. Oh, for God's sake, Felix! Oh, please, let me come!" "I will, but push the vibrator out. Raise your bottom right up high." "What?" "Push, push it out!" Lauren tensed her muscles and did as instructed, shrieking with pleasure as the last two inches slipped out. She collapsed onto the bed, laying sideways, feeling the heat between her legs, the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks and the urge to go to the toilet building deep in her bowels. He lay beside her, almost consoling her like a young child, touching her breast carefully as though it might cause her pain. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, feeling his slippery fingers sliding up to her face. Her tongue slid gently into his mouth, exploring, twisting with his as they pulled each other deeper into the embrace. Her legs twisted round his, a knee pressing hard against his balls, pushing his cock up to meet her inquisitive hand. The skin had already peeled way back down his shaft and she tugged it, pulling with her finger and thumb until it almost covered the angry red knob. She pushed it down, hard against the angle it settled at naturally, and allowed the shiny end to rest against the entrance to her vagina. Felix moved over her, balancing on one hand as he parted her legs and prepared to enter her. He looked down, watching as part of him disappeared inside. Lauren strained to see, most of her view blocked by her breasts and his body. Realising her trouble he gripped her head and pulled her up, moving so that she could see each stroke and the length of his cock as it plunged steadily into her. She sighed contentedly as she flopped back onto the bed, bringing her legs up against his ribs, then locking her ankles behind his back. As he entered again, she pulled him tight into her, squirming under him, pulling him so that his groin rubbed against her clitoris. Felix copied her movements, moving inside her, in and out, round and round, his hands finding her buttocks and pulling her up tighter into him. He rested momentarily, giving Lauren time to push him over on his side, then straddle him. She stared down, pleased with the fluency of her movement and the new position. She smiled, noting that she was compensating for her presumed lack of experience by some rapid learning. Glancing down, she lifted herself slowly in the air, marveling as his cock emerged from her pussy. She lowered herself onto him, watching as his shaft entered her, matching the feeling from her vagina of total occupation against the walls and the nudge against the entrance to her womb. Once again, Lauren ground away on him, her clitoris sending warning shots of pleasure through her hot body. Her knees gripped his ribs as she increased her stroke, careful to ensure that he remained inside her but trying to judge just how far she could rise up before crashing down in another erotic stroke. The force of her approaching orgasm built again, the walls of her vagina rippling with pleasure and anticipation of even greater things to come. She felt Felix's cock pulsing inside her. "I'm coming. Oh Lori..." She pounded up and down on him, knowing full well that when he came, the sheer heat and extra width of his cock would send her over the edge. "Yes, come on. Inside me. I want all of it!" she moaned, uncaring whether anyone else in the house could hear. Then with a grunt, he pushed up into her as deeply as possible, raising his buttocks off the sheets as spurt after spurt of cum shot into her vagina. Lauren shuddered, climaxing silently as she buried her head in the pillow beside him. Felix shuddered continually as Lauren rose and fell, each heart-beat gripping his cock, squeezing spurt after spurt of cum from his balls. Without warning, she felt his fingers pulling her buttocks apart while still guiding and helping her to maintain her rhythm. His fingers slithered towards her hot hole, circling madly around the entrance before plunging straight into her. Deep, searing heat melted into another wave of pleasure as he continued to pump away, and she thought they would continue forever until she simply had to laugh at the sheer pleasure of the moment and the tell-tale noise coming from the bedsprings. She rested quietly, feeling him continue to pump into her, his buttocks rising and falling as further spurts filled her inside. He too slowed after almost a minute, gripping her lovingly, touching her breasts as they squashed against his chest. Lauren looked up, rising so that she sat on his still hard cock. Gently, she slid forward to sit on his chest, her knees resting against his head, her pussy inches from his face. She looked down between her legs. "Now see what you've done to me!" she said, laughing. Cum dribbled out of her vagina, the white translucent liquid smeared over her pubic hair, dripping over her clitoris and pooling where her anus met his chest. They rested quietly for many minutes, caressing each other, sharing unspoken intimacies with the touch of fingers and heat of their bodies. However, true to form, Felix made his excuses and dressed quickly, visiting the bathroom for almost ten minutes before returning to her room. He approached the bed. "Hey, have a little sleep!" he said, tucking her up and fluffing the pillow. "What about your 'thing'?" she said coyly. "Look after it for me" "Great, so where am I going to keep that?" He slid his hand under the sheets and patted around until he found the vibrator. To Lauren's astonishment, he rolled her very gently onto her side and lifted her left leg. Carefully, he pushed the weapon down between the soaking valley of her pussy and against her anus, pushing it inside her with little hesitation. Lauren almost flew back against the pillow, banging her head against the headboard. "Oh Jeeze, Felix" she said, her face screwed in pain. "Lori, you love it, don't you?" he said, turning her onto her back. She nodded, eyes still closed, reveling in the aftermath of the pain and the advent of the deep sense of pleasure that pervaded. "Sleep. When you're alone tonight, try it again. In fact, try turning it on!" "Mmm" she said, drifting contentedly as he quietly shut the door behind him. Lauren thought she did sleep, maybe for only five or ten minutes. But when she woke she knew the vibrator was still in place, deep inside her anus between her long tanned legs. Feeling the stickiness in her pubic hair and around the tops of her thighs, she moved against the sheets, back and forth, wiping herself. Concerned, rather belatedly, about messing up the sheets, she leaned out of her bed and grabbed her T-Shirt from the floor. Flat on her back again, she held one corner and pulled it between her legs, delighting in the feeling as the soft cotton caressed her thighs and pussy. She swung her legs off the bed slowly, wondering where and how to take out the implement to the maximum effect. Naked, she walked through to her lounge, knelt on the sofa with her back to the television and looked down between her legs. She couldn't see the plastic bulge but knew full well that it was there. Flexing her muscles, she rested her head on the sofa cushions and gripped the cheeks of her bottom. Relaxing her muscles, she pushed gently, slowly expelling the vibrator, laughing coarsely as it tumbled to the floor. "Dirty bitch" she said, louder than she had intended. She picked it up with one hand while the other gripped her buttocks as though trying hard to keep the pleasure confined within. A mental inventory of her feelings concluded that she felt randy, in need of orgasm and only partially satisfied with Felix's efforts that afternoon. In consideration of her education though, she felt it had been a very useful time, especially as she had surprised herself with her willingness to participate in his activities. However, she dearly needed experience in cock sucking, that was clear. She showered, hiding the vibrator - after confirming she knew how to turn it on and off - in her medicine cabinet. Her thoughts returned to her sexual education and recent progress. Lauren dropped the towel on the floor of her bedroom and stood naked in front of her drawers. She looked down, surveying objectively the sight below. Her breasts were still her best feature, she thought. She felt her stomach, the muscles dormant and uninterested in shaping her figure. But at least her stomach was flat, she thought. The beginning of her pubic hair showed where her stomach gave way to the softness of her mound, disappearing out of sight between her long brown legs. She leaned forward, admiring their colour to such an extent that she wandered back into her bathroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror behind the door. Her gaze fixed between her legs, the slightly puffy labia parted to reveal the delicacy of her inner lips. She placed her hands on her hips, dipping to one side, pouting in the mirror before smiling to herself at her reflection. She wondered briefly if she should trim her pubic hair. Shave it off for summer. Perhaps that was something she would have in store for Felix. Maybe even let him do it. Less than thirty minutes ago, she realised that a man had forced a sex aid inside her anus. Then he had made love to her, pumping her full yet again of his cum until her young pussy could accommodate no more. No traces of him remained after her shower, but the thought of their passion aroused her again. Her fingers gently traced her pussy lips, feeling both labia gently, simulating his touch. Her lips were dry, but the action of her fingers caused sexual adrenaline to suggest to her that help was on the way. Lauren placed her right foot on the side of the bath and watched herself in the mirror. She shook her head slightly, wondering why she had the almost constant need for gratification. It had concerned her recently. Nikki's words kept echoing in her mind, reminding her that she would get into trouble if she wasn't careful, especially with the two children, her position of responsibility and the fact that she was a foreigner. She sat on the edge of the bath, legs together and folded her arms. Her mother would be horrified if she knew that the concerns that she had expressed on the phone and in letters were reality and her daughter had even exceeded her worst imagination on occasions. She looked again in the mirror, the dark triangle of curly hair just visible as she crossed her legs. Her hair fell over her shoulders, two inches longer and several shades lighter than when she had left Switzerland - the sun had done that for her. Perhaps she should get it cut, really short. Something dramatic now that she was away from home and there were only a few people to stare. With her hands on her hips, she twisted, contemplating her reflection. She didn't think she had put any weight on, a testament to the pasta and vegetable diet that had replaced her Swiss stodge. Her breasts were the same size, and the skin felt firm, taut and healthy to her touch. She still wasn't beautiful though. Yes, she thought, healthy was a good word to describe her appearance. 'Au naturel', developed, almost athletic. She was 'almost' all sorts of things, she concluded, as her train of thought meandered through her mind. Almost a lesbian, but not quite. Almost in love with Felix. Almost satisfied by her afternoon's sex. Almost brown all over. Almost ready for tea. She stood, the thin pubic hair of her labia covering her vagina, sealing any further notions of arousal for the present as hunger prevailed. Some form of evening dress was required, she felt, as she once again stood in front of her drawers. Notions of grandeur were replaced within seconds by a thigh length T- Shirt. Knickers were forsaken on the excuse that she was only going to make tea and have a glass or two of wine before bed. She was tired but the thought process continued. She again considered her involvement with Emma, concluding yet again that it was she who was forced to make love to her, tempted beyond endurance by the young girl. Lauren saw no harm in the activity. Girls of Emma's age often have crushes on older girls, become involved, experiment and then turn their attentions to boys. And if Emma hadn't done anything with her, it would have been someone else. Someone much less understanding, which would definitely have caused problems. Regardless of the reasoning in her mind, her past actions dwelt heavily on her conscience, worrying her to a such an extent that she argued out loud occasionally as she lay on her bed until base instincts took over and she headed for food and drink. Chapter 41 Less than forty-eight hours later, the whole country seemed to disintegrate. The government's regional commander in the north had rounded up a small number of reactionaries, and had intended, so the official line went, to bring them to trial. The suspects had been shackled and loaded into a truck for transportation south, and eventual questioning. News reports suggested that the truck had encountered problems on the journey, losing braking power as it descended into a valley. The driver and his mate had leaped from the truck just in time to watch it fly though a crash barrier and roll down the hillside. To add insult to injury, pictures showed that the truck only fell about thirty feet, but rescue workers had taken six hours to get to the vehicle, by which time many of the injured had bled to death. Only two survived out of the original twenty-eight. Rioting broke out before the end of the evening newscast. Rebels bombed several police stations in what appeared to be well-rehearsed set pieces. Reports circulated of government troops deserting to the Nationalists as a result of terror and lack of wages. Lauren conferred with Elizabeth and Gustav and it was decided that the children would leave, cross the border and fly to Switzerland from Venezuela. It was Emma who heard the vans first. Huge pre-war speakers bolted on top, megaphones of doom and destruction. Of course, Lauren would not have known if they were announcing the start of an uprising or the latest lottery winners. But the message was expected and simple. 'Leave now, go south. Move quickly, taking only what you can carry. The Nationalists are all murderers and won't spare you. If you're male and aged between twenty and forty then stay and defend.' Lauren looked at Emma glumly. It had really happened, just as everyone had warned. They grabbed two suitcases each and packed in silence. Lauren took as much food and drink as she could carry in one suitcase, and clothes in the other. She hid some of her personal treasures high up in her cupboards, half hoping that if the house was ransacked that people would give up before finding her things. Her plan, a slight diversion from that agreed with Gustav and Elizabeth, was to drive as far south as she could, then ditch the car. Given the war, it would be easy to say it had been stolen. However, even before they had gone a couple of miles, Lauren was shocked to find a steady stream of refugees already heading south through Boquette. Indeed, rather than completing her journey to the Post Office, she made a U-turn in the road and went back home, her mind muddled with disbelief that she could have become involved in something so exciting, so deadly, so un- Swiss. After their false start, they left once again at almost eleven o'clock. The sun loomed brilliantly overhead as Lauren turned for the last time to look at her home, the white ranch with the pool that she had come to regard her house, full of her children and her problems. They walked quickly for almost a mile, the countryside passing so slowly in comparison to their normal speed along the dusty roads. As they approached Boquette, people joined their march, heads down, looking at nobody, acutely aware of each other's possessions and the troop lorries heading north. Old people sat on the side of the road, their wrinkled faces screwed up against the sun and the swirling dust. She felt pity for them to start with, but soon began to realise that this was what it has always been about. The survivors are those who can, and do, as the situation demands. They can get up and relocate. They can move out of danger. They can adapt. The heat was oppressive, and as they trudged along the thin lane that led into the square, Lauren realised that they had no chance of moving quickly if they carried two suitcases each. The square seemed to be in use as a rendezvous point, where several groups of twenty and thirty people gathered. Families perhaps, preparing to head out. Her clothes stuck to her body. Jeans had seemed a sensible idea when they left the house. The pockets were useful, and it covered her legs, giving a sense of modesty. But they soon became unbearably hot, and even though she stayed in the shade as much as possible, the lack of air conditioning proved troublesome. Many people cried, especially the children and the old. To them it seemed as though they were removed from reality, a dazed, bewildered expression on their faces, continually facing the unknown. For others, though, sheer hard work, pushing rickety old carts, some with passengers, all with possessions, forming a long line of torment stretching south. Lauren noticed much of the scenery for the first time, details of the local lifestyle that passed her by when she drove through the lanes. The broken furniture tucked down the side of houses, rubble never removed after houses had been completed. Huge billboards along the road advertising coffee, cigarettes, hotels. Within half an hour she had seen several old people, crouched or sitting beside the road, resigned to their fate, unwilling or unable to continue in the heat. And even in their hour of peril, some people stood and sold the strangest of things, turning their possessions into cash. Umbrellas, watches, a camera, pots and saucepans were all on offer, their owners imploring each passer-by. Lauren's throat was dry, but she dared not open her suitcase and pull out the bottled water for fear of starting a stampede. She simply trudged along with Emma and Jamie, silently, miserably as she became dirtier, hotter and more angry at herself for failing to leave when they could have taken the car. Chapter 42 By about four o'clock that afternoon, Lauren was exhausted. She shuffled off the side of the road and flopped down in the dirt. Jamie and Emma followed, glad to sit for a moment. Beads of sweat clung to their faces, ready to trace their features, clean paths through the dust and grime. Lauren hated the feeling of dirt, the heat compounding her distaste and causing her to wonder if staying in San Falino would have been the right decision. Switzerland would never have had such an exodus of people. Disagreements were always settled by a national referendum. She lashed out at a fly buzzing round her face, cursing at the tiny insect as it slipped from her fingers. They watched cars and trucks lumber by in both directions, loaded with cargo of arms and soldiers to the north and with refugees to the south. She reached into her grip and pulled out a can of lemonade, pulled the ring and drank, eyeing the line of people all the time, ready to protect the drink should anyone attempt to steal it from her. Sharing it with Emma and Jamie, she mentally took stock of their situation. To her relief, the children had obeyed her to the letter since they left home, and she was pleased that they had managed to get so far without injury or any problem. But the stifling heat, the dry dusty road and the smell of people, sweat and fear all took their toll, adding to her imagination and fueling her concern for their safety. "Lori, where can we stay tonight?" asked Emma, throwing the empty can away. Lauren frowned at her lack of thoughtfulness. "I don't know" she replied, more sternly than she had intended. Accommodation was indeed a problem, and the thought of camping by the roadside did not appeal. A convoy of army trucks roared past them, young soldiers watching silently from the rear. "We'll be warm out here. There'll be loads of people, don't worry!" said Jamie. He seemed stronger than Lauren would have thought, and certainly had made the mental adjustment to their fortunes. "Come on, we should keep going for a while!" he said, standing. Lauren followed, pulling Emma up. They rejoined the main crowd and settled into the slow column of refugees heading south. She turned slowly at the sound of shouting. "Hey!" A soldier had jumped from a truck parked at right angles to the road and was beckoning in their direction. Lauren turned away, trying to determine if it was she or someone else that the soldier summoned. "Hey!" he shouted again, advancing towards her. Her stomach heaved and she felt her sphincter tighten as blood rushed from her head. "M.. Me?" she asked, pointing to herself as he adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder. "You. You and you. You come. You foreigners. Come now!" He approached, the crowd parting and avoiding eye contact, pleased that it was someone else being stopped. "You special, not San Falino. Come" Lauren was dazed, panicked into making a decision of either accepting what could be a generous offer of protection for foreign nationals or continuing on the dusty road. She glanced at Jamie and Emma, reading their body language. She turned back to the soldier and smiled. "Thanks!" she said, indicating to the others that they should follow. The soldier helped them up into the truck with their meager belongings and the truck drove off, north. "Oh! Where are we going?" "Where you live?" "Just north of Boquette" replied Jamie in the soldiers language. "Ah, very good. Then we take you back. Guard house. No Nationalists there. We look after you at house." Lauren decided not to argue. Three or four other soldiers sat further down in the truck, occasionally leering at her and Emma. She leaned forward in the seat, weathering the potholed road and the wild swings of the vehicle as it lumbered back the way they had come. She glanced at Jamie who frowned back at her. "What?" "Just seems a bit weird, that's all. Better to get us non-immigrants out of the country rather than disperse us again." He stared back again at his feet. Lauren could offer no consolation or advice and watched helplessly as the familiar streets of Boquette passed them by. Within ten minutes the truck pulled up outside the house, and they lead the way through the front door. Lauren dumped her bag in the hallway and headed for the kitchen, pulling down the note from the fridge door. "Cold drink?" she asked as the officer followed her. She assumed he was the senior soldier there, given his two stripes. She remembered the lesson at school and the colorful book that he listed all the ranks of soldiers, sailors and airmen. Even so, she could only guess that he was a Sargeant or Corporal. His face was creased from either laughter or squinting, his black mop of hair untidily falling over his ears. Several days' beard growth gave him a black mask that she felt she disliked. He was perhaps three inches taller than her, but many pounds heavier. Forty would be a good guess of his age, she thought, younger than her father. "Yes, beer. My men search house. Just in case." Lauren nodded, pouring lemonade from the bottle into three glasses and then pulling a pack of beer from the fridge. Suddenly, a scream resounded down the hallway. Her initial terror subsided as she realised that the sound didn't belong to Jamie or Emma. "Ha!" he said delightedly. The scuffles grew louder until a soldier rounded the corner into the kitchen, pulling one of the cleaners with him. She was dressed in tatty blue knickers and a black bra only. The soldiers conversed in Spanish, amusement in their faces. The cleaner stared at the ground, obviously ashamed of being caught. To Lauren's horror, the officer reached out and felt her breast, squeezing the nipple until she screamed. The soldiers laughed as they dismissed her with a push out into the garden. "She asleep in bed. Common bitch!" He took the beer and made his way to the lounge. Lauren followed, anxious to both keep the soldiers away from Emma and Jamie and claim her bedroom. Emma and Jamie were in the lounge already, talking to two of the soldiers. "Come on, let's get washed!" said Lauren, encouraging them out of the room as quickly as possible. At seven o'clock, Lauren made a meal for everyone, raiding their store of canned food in the spare room. The soldiers continued to drink, finishing the beer at just after eight o'clock and then starting on the wine. They seemed to have no care whether it was red or white, sweet or dry and laughed like common criminals when Lauren tried to recommend a good after-dinner port. At nine, Lauren ushered Emma and Jamie off to bed, saying to the officer that it had been a long day. She watched as his eyes followed Emma's buttocks, his beer bottle poised between his lips as she disappeared off down the hallway. Shortly afterwards Lauren herself went to bed, anxious about the night and the five soldiers who now seemed to be living with them. She showered, dressed in bra and knickers, pulled a T-Shirt over her head and crept across the hallway into Emma's room. She slept, soundly, also dressed for perhaps only the second time in Lauren's knowledge in a T-Shirt. Jamie was also asleep, albeit fitful as he tossed and turned on the pillow. She returned, shuddered involuntarily and tucked herself into bed. Distant laughter filled the night, punctuated by the seemingly endless sounds of the toilet flushing and doors slamming. As her muscles relaxed and dull aches set in, she sobbed quietly, reflecting on her fortune, the scenes of poverty on the road and the dirty, ill-mannered guards that had become part of her life. She slept heavily, dreamlessly as the party continued. Lauren sat bolt upright as though someone had flicked a switch on. She surveyed her room, noting it was almost four in the morning. The curtains were drawn but she knew it was still dark. Then she heard the footsteps that she knew had woken her, coming down the hallway. They stopped outside her door. A knock. "Hey!" said a voice. The officer, she thought. Panic set in, her heart beating loudly as her breathing became shallow. "What?" she replied weakly. "Need wine. Where wine?" A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she swung out of bed and put the light on. She smoothed down her T-Shirt and gazed in the mirror. "Coming, just a minute!" She checked the clock again. Four o'clock and still drinking. She opened the door to see the officer making his way back down the hallway. The house stank of cigarette smoke and she could see a haze hovering halfway between the floor and ceiling of the lounge. The soldiers had made makeshift beds in the hallway, their backpacks arranged as pillows, blankets stretched out uninvitingly. Lauren followed a safe distance behind into the kitchen and through into the utility room. She reached down into a cupboard and pulled out a dusty bottle of Graves. It looked expensive and was quickly exchanged for a bottle of Neirsteiner that she knew was less than ten dollars. Grabbing a corkscrew, she returned to the lounge. The floor was strewn with the tools of their trade. Small arms, rags, boxes of ammunition. She thought she recognised an automatic rifle of the type she had seen in the newspaper. The smell of oil, smoke, drink and urine sickened her. The soldiers were sprawled across the sofa, one on the floor, and one gazing out of the window. The officer beckoned her across to his armchair, stubbing out a fat cigar on the Wedgwood dining plate that served as an ashtray. "Open. You open" Lauren sighed, determining that it was best to get them their wine then get out as soon as possible. With the amount of drink they must have consumed she wondered if there would be an opportunity in the morning to decide whether to stay or make a run for it when they eventually slept. She turned the corkscrew slowly into the neck of the bottle, taking care, as her father had always said, to make sure that the screw went all the way through the cork. She tugged, but it wouldn't come free. Her arms ached and turning away from them, she gripped the bottle between her legs and pulled hard. The cork flew out, bringing the soldiers on the floor out of the doze. The officer stood, bringing six glasses to her. "You fill." As she finished the third glass she realised that the sixth one was spare and moved it to one side. "No, this you!" "No, no. I go sleep!" said Lauren, imitating his word power as she waved her hands in the shape of a cradle. "No, you stay. Drink." She shook her head, dismissing him with finality, and turned to go. Her body sensitised, expecting a touch, a hand to grab her. As she rounded the corner of the room she breathed a sigh of relief once again, stared at the floor and thanked her lucky stars that the incident hadn't got out of hand. "Where you go?" Lauren shrieked as she bumped into the soldier. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle further sounds as her knees weakened. "Leave me alone" she said defiantly, trying to squeeze between him and the wall. "You come" he said, taking her by the arm and back into the lounge. He smiled as he pushed her down in front of the officer. Without any hurry at all, the officer leaned forward in his chair until he was less than a foot from her face. "You enjoy. You dance for us." Lauren shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as sorrow, anger and fear played with her heart rate. "No, I sleep now!" "Senorita, you play. Or we take little girl." he said, pointing in the direction of Emma's room. He leaned back, turned to one of his soldiers and nodded. Familiar disco music filled the room, loud enough for dancing but probably not enough to wake the children. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and looked up at him, her eyes pleading for mercy, for decency. Her chin trembled as she felt her stomach churning with fear. "Dance!" he shouted. She jerked at the command, standing with difficulty, checking in his eyes that he was serious before moving to the biggest space in the room. Her hips refused to move with the music and her arms and feet seemed to be dead weights. He handed her his glass of wine. "Drink. Easy then!" She reached out and accepted the glass almost gratefully, praying that it would dull her senses long enough to get her through the ordeal. Relieved that she had bothered to dress in knickers and bra that evening, she swayed slowly to the beat, finding areas of the room where she could avoid looking at the soldiers, even though she still felt their eyes on her. The officer refilled her glass, stood and swayed over to her. She accepted the drink, feeling the sweet wine coating her throat, her stomach complaining at the hour of the day. She shuddered as she drained the glass, the alcohol lifting her feet and arms into action. She dropped the glass and glanced up, horrified to see him flicking his tongue towards her, coaxing her into lewd positions as he imitated how she should dance. He rubbed his trousers, licking his lips, laughing as the other soldiers cheered and encouraged him. "Hey. You dance sexy. Now!" She sobbed gently, knowing that with the amount they had already drunk and the lack of control over their desires that a sexy dance was never going to stop there. She thought about Emma and what they might do to her. She prayed that if she woke up she stayed in her room - if she wandered out to see what was happening then there was no telling what might happen. She danced miserably, swaying her hips in time with the music, dipping occasionally as they clapped and encouraged her. The officer stood and Lauren feared he had read her mind, but he turned right and trudged out to the kitchen. Several minutes later, she heard the toilet flush and he returned with another three bottles of wine, one of which was the Graves. "You. T-Shirt." he commanded, raising his hands up and down. Lauren knew what he wanted and started to cry steadily. She shook her head. "No, please. Please!" "Up! Now! You obey!" "Look, I'm a foreign national. I want to speak to the Embassy!" "No understand. Up. Now!" But Lauren knew he understood. She could see quite clearly as he looked at his soldiers, checking to see if they knew what she had demanded. But they were either dozing or too drunk to comprehend. She doubted as well if they would have even cared if they were awake and sober. Reaching for the hem of her T-Shirt, she pulled it slowly over her head and brought it quickly to her chest, covering her bra. The officer reached out, asking for the T-Shirt. Slowly, she gave it to him, fearful of getting too close in case he made a grab for her. Dropping the T-Shirt, he picked up a bottle of wine and summoned her to stand in front of him. She obeyed and he handed her the bottle, pushing it between her legs and up to her pussy. It was cool, but Lauren was more concerned with his attempt to push the corkscrew into the bottle. She held the bottle tight behind her and looked down. The end of the bottle was just visible between her legs, nestling up against her knickers. One slip of the corkscrew would injure her for life. Lauren shut her eyes and prayed, whimpering, shaking as he slowly turned the wooden handle. The wicked tool squeaked, disappearing inside the cork. She felt the back of his hand brush her pussy and shuddered, gripping the bottle tighter as he finished turning and started to pull. He pulled upwards deliberately, pushing the neck of the bottle between her pussy lips as her whole lower body quivered in shame and terror. The pop of the cork did nothing to lessen her fears. He took the bottle from her as a tear fell onto the label. Half rising from his chair, he pushed her back into the center of the room, jiggling his hips to indicate that the show should continue. One of the soldiers on the sofa had woken up and now watched intently as she moved slowly to the music. She avoided his eyes and stared at the carpet, watching her feet with disbelief that anything so terrifying could be happening. The officer thrust another drink at her and she accepted, draining the glass thirstily as the wine did its job and blocked out some of the intense humiliation. He watched her closely, then nodded again, his eyes on her bra. "No, no way!" said Lauren, storming off towards the hallway. Two steps later, she heard a double click that needed no explanation. She was only surprised that it sounded just like it did in the films. She turned to see his revolver resting on his knee. Her chin dropped, tears flowing again as her legs carried her back onto her private dance floor. He nodded. She reached behind and flicked the catch to her bra, holding the thin material against her breasts for as long as she could. She surveyed the room, counting the pairs of eyes that were now fixed on her chest. All but one - who appeared to be out for the rest of the day as he slept with his mouth wide open - sat staring at her. Waiting, smiling, reveling in her utter discomfort and fear. She dropped the bra on the ground and covered her breasts with her hands. "Dance!" he said, indicating she should drop her hands. Lauren complied, sobbing as she slowly let go, her hips barely moving to the ridiculously upbeat music. The soldiers, almost in unison, gave the appreciative grunts and made sounds like wolves baying at night. She shook her head in disgust, knowing that within minutes she would be told to take off her knickers and dance naked for their entertainment. She could think of no way out of the situation, except bolt for the door and run off into the night. She glanced at her nipples, relieved to see that they were asleep, flat. She knew full well that she found the episode cold, sexless and the overriding feeling that registered was one of sickness from drinking so many glasses of wine at such an early hour. Her limbs ached as her rhythm faltered. With eyes fixed to the floor but peripheral vision acute, she waited for the final command. She tensed as one of the soldiers rose unsteadily to his feet and lumbered in her direction. He grinned stupidly as the drink caused him to sway past the officer towards the piano. She turned away, hoping that he would collapse onto the carpet and fall asleep. She resumed jigging again, her movements bland, expressionless, her stomach complaining, sending bubbles of gas through her insides. Her gut contorted as the officer also rose. She backed away, sniffing, shaking her head as though begging for mercy. He reached out for her breasts with his hairy hands and Lauren shrieked, lurching backwards into the hands of the other soldier. He held her tight, pulling her off her feet as she struggled to free herself from his bear-hug. "No, let me go!" she shouted, now not caring if she woke the children. The coarse fabric of his uniform rubbed against her back while his rough hands held her breasts painfully. He pulled her backwards while the officer laughed in her face, dragging her against her will until she felt the piano stool against her calves. He sat her down roughly, then sat across her lap as he pushed her head over one end. The officer steadied her flailing feet, holding them both in one hand as though she was a baby about to be changed. His free hand loosened his belt, threaded it around her right ankle and the piano stool and pulled it tight. "No! No, please!" she sobbed, her head aching slightly with the rush of blood. Her body arched over the stool. She beat her hands on the chest of the soldier as he sat on her, but with no effect. Laughing at her efforts, he too slipped his belt from his trousers and tied it round her neck. He secured the other end to stool legs so she couldn't sit up. When he was satisfied he rose and knelt beside her, holding the stool for support. Lauren shifted, testing her bonds. She could move quite easily, but would never get away. With her head below the level of the stool, it was hard to breath and think, let alone move quickly and slip out of the noose. She felt hands over her stomach and felt nausea building inside. Fingers traced lines along her thighs, rough, inept, uncaring fingers that had no concept of foreplay, only gratification. She whimpered quietly, shaking as the blood rushed to her head, her stomach and neck muscles tensed as she tried to support her head. Dull vibrations through the stool told her of the approach of more soldiers. She closed her eyes tightly as the tears rolled back over her forehead and into her hair. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /