Message-ID: <3829eli$9709062221@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Francis Dashwood Subject: Lauren Gisal Book 2 Chapter 43-44 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.RAA02536@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 43 "Euro-bitch!" hissed a soldier, tweaking her nipples. She writhed on the stool, her neck now painful and the pressure of the blood in her head frightening. Hands explored, invading private territory. Rough hands, greasy with labour, unrefined. "Leave me alone you bastards!" she moaned, eyes still closed. She opened her mouth to shout but froze. The cold, clinical edge of steel on her cheek sent shivers through her teenage body, disrupting her breathing and causing her heart to beat wildly. "No! Please no!" she shouted, her eyes wide open, transfixed on the bayonet inches from her face. The music played on in the background, the happy, upbeat disco beat now bouncing round the house. A soldier ran the tip of the cold steel slowly along her cheek, across her lips and over her chin. Her sphincter tightened. She gripped the stool to support her efforts to strain away from the bayonet but it continued its course downwards, finding her nipples, flicking them without effect before teasing her stomach. "Hey, Euro-bitch. You jiggy-jiggy?" asked the Officer. "Fuck you!" shouted Lauren. "Hey! Come on! Show us piss-flaps!" He flicked the buttons on his fly and shed his trousers and pants, revealing a semi- erect cock that was without doubt the least enticing view of a man that she had ever seen. His pot-belly extended over his length and the sparse, ragged pubic hair looked as though it had seen much action. He gripped himself and rubbed his tool, speaking quickly in Spanish to his staff. Lauren felt the bayonet on her knickers, tracing the gentle line of her pussy lips. Other hands gripped her free leg and pulled to expose her completely. Rapid Spanish conversation was followed by the sound of more clothes dropping on the floor. She opened her eyes to see two other soldiers now naked by her head, their cocks both rampant, proud in their hands. One of them knelt beside her, guiding his swollen bulb towards her lips. She turned her head, sickened by the thought, only to discover another on the other side. Strong hands held her head still, squeezing her cheeks and nose so that she had to open her mouth to breath. A cock slipped in, deep into her mouth, the smell instantly revolting her and reminding her stomach of the benefits of vomiting. Fighting the nausea, she tensed as the soldier slid in and out slowly, deeper and deeper into her mouth. Horror struck as the needle-sharp tip of the bayonet pushed at the knicker material covering her vagina. She groaned as loudly as she could, her pleas muffled by the slippery cock that punished her throat. The material gave way and the clinical cool of the sharp steel cut a gash as it glided slowly between her labia. Save her trembling, she remained motionless as the weapon tore at her knickers and the cock plunging back and forth into her mouth. Further commands were audible above the cacophony of the music. The bayonet withdrew to be replaced, she knew, by the Officer between her stretched legs. Hands grabbed her hair tightly now, holding her in position as his cock pushed against the small hole in the material, teasing and tearing as he rested at the entrance to her vagina. She shook her head within her restraints as hard as she could, only adding to the sensations of both soldiers who took their pleasure. She felt the cock bulge in her mouth as it pushed against her throat on the depth of its stroke. He quickened his thrusting, grabbing her breast as his groans became louder, squeezing her young mounds and kneading them into obscene shapes as he twirled the nipple between his fingers. Lauren screamed in a deadly mixture of agony and fear as he bulged again and the soldier between her legs plunged hard into her dry vagina. Her legs strained against the belt as she arched her back, the force of the torture causing every muscle in her body to contract at once. But the hands gripped her easily. Both cocks ploughed mercilessly into her until the first shot of cum hit the roof of her mouth. She exhaled loudly, feeling the liquid oozing towards her throat, warm, almost savory. The soldiers continued to pump into her without concern, one, two, three thrusts until her lips sensed another bulge and streams of cum filled her mouth. Nausea rose in her stomach, held back by the cock that partially blocked her throat. She coughed, feeling the cum spray from her mouth up through her nose. He withdrew, stroking his cock against her face as he came on her chin. Lauren screwed her eyes up as tightly as she could, bracing herself as the Officer rhythmically raped her, splitting her knickers with every noisy thrust, his balls banging against her buttocks and the force straining the belt around her leg and neck. The hands gripping her head twisted her roughly, presenting her with another cock to be satisfied. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and took him in, noting the increase in size over the last soldier and the smell of urine and excrement. He withdrew momentarily and Lauren opened her eyes, watching as he pulled back the foreskin to offer her the purple, shiny knob before slamming back into her, painfully pushing her upper lip against her teeth. A blur of pubic hair accompanied the foul smell of his groin as she fought to breath; globules of cum irritated her nasal passages, stinging the back of her throat. She shook uncontrollably now, muscles strained into aching, her stomach especially painful as she retched against the thick cock ploughing into her mouth. The Officer regained his stroke, signaling to his men to open her long tanned legs wider and pull her free leg up into the air. Her bottom rose off the stool and he took a few seconds to re- positioned himself before pushing hard into her once again, stroking deeper inside her vagina. Her own lubrication offered slight relief against the dreadful pain of his penis inside her dry vagina and she was convinced that the slipperiness she now experienced was the result of blood. With each merciless stroke his groin mashed against hers, pushing her backwards, straining the belt around her neck. She grunted involuntarily around the hard penis stuffed in her mouth, the sickness growing inside her from the putrid smell. Two thick trails of cum dribbled from her mouth, over her upper lip and down into her matted brown hair. Her inability to breath frightened her and the blood pounding inside her head disorientated. Lauren was convinced she would pass out from either lack of oxygen or pain, a fact for which she felt grateful. In the murky reality of the room, the officer gasped, knowing he was fast approaching orgasm. Without faltering, he reached for her breasts and grabbed them unceremoniously, digging his fingers into the taught skin as his pumping became more and more furious. Lauren was dimly aware of the change in pace and braced herself as he exploded inside her, the hot liquid searing through her, following his cock and oozing around it, stinging her painfully as it battled its way out of her vagina and flowed ceaselessly down towards her anus. He finished a few strokes later, withdrawing with a final grunt before wiping his hand over her vagina and spreading his seed over her stomach and breasts, marking his conquest. As though acting on his officer's command, the soldier doubled the rate of punishment of her mouth, slamming into her, grabbing her hair in his fist and pulling and pushing her back and forth in time with the movement of his hips. She tasted his precum, a tiny spurt coating her tongue, a prelude to the sudden gush that issued from the cruel slit in his cock and again filled her mouth. She swallowed as quickly as she could but her throat was on strike, scared that the huge penis might somehow get lodged down it and make her violently sick. She gagged loudly, gasping for air, cum dribbling from between her lips, coating her teeth before gathering in the corner of her mouth and dripping onto the carpet below. He came continually although Lauren neither counted or cared. Her mind and body now numbed to their abuse, she lay there as he slowed and finally withdrew, wiping his stickiness with her hair as the soldiers laughed. They let go of her leg, allowing her to slowly gather the remnants of her modesty. Her tears returned in earnest, her sobbing punctuated by coughs and sniffs in an attempt to clear the cum from her nostrils. Lauren made no attempt though to move from the stool and hardly protested as she felt movement at her feet, the coarse trousers falling across her shins as the warmth of flesh met hers. She shook her head silently, slowly from side to side, crying loudly now as the soldier's cock touched her raw labia, the smears of cum hardly soothing and certainly unable to moderate her expectations of further pain, suffering and humiliation. He pushed slowly and Lauren wondered in her clouded consciousness whether his calm and caution could be interpreted as compassion, but her fears materialised once again as she felt a finger stabbing deep into her anus and the hard cock ramming halfway into her vagina. Again she raised her bottom off the stool and without waiting for the hands to grab her left leg, she pulled behind her knee and tried in vain to ease her abused passages. Encouraged by the sight of her apparent willingness to receive his cock inside her, he plunged in, deep inside, holding himself inside as though savouring the moment before withdrawing almost all the way. The head of his cock was just visible at the entrance to her vagina, ruddy, glistening, coated in cum already and held gently by the sore lips of her vagina. Her pubic hair stuck to her young flesh, flattened, streaked with grey trails, providing little cover for the hood of her clitoris. She retched loudly, feeling the movement of vomit in her stomach as it made an attempt to negotiate her throat. She wailed, desperate to avoid being sick with her head hanging down over the stool. Dimly aware that she was being raped again, she held the side of the stool with her free hand, trying to reduce the motion that resulted from each thrust, a motion that echoed through her body, jolting her stomach into involuntary activity. Her crying brought up the bitter taste of wine and bile into her mouth making her shudder as the soldier pounded into her as hard as he could, in part to impress his audience but also to extract enough sensation from her sopping vagina to ensure an orgasm. She coughed loudly, gagging and swallowing, fighting to keep the vomit under control. With each cough her vagina contracted and her anus gripped the unwelcome finger. He pumped harder, louder, bulging frequently inside her numbed sex until his orgasm burst within her, dribbling quickly along the length of his cock and gushing over the stool. He pulled out quickly then straddled her, masturbating furiously to the cheers of his colleagues as he came over her breasts and aimed at her navel, the finger in her anus straight, hard and in time with his other hand. He rolled off her, pulling his finger out of her roughly causing her to shriek and arch her back once again. Lauren let go of her leg, letting it dangle wide over the stool so that her red raw vagina was clear to see. Smeared over her body from her face down to her thighs and knees was the result of the soldiers' liberties. The invasion was complete. Someone undid the bonds around her neck, but she kept her eyes screwed shut, astonishing herself with a feeling of eternal gratitude, almost subservience to whoever had loosed the belt. Her foot came loose and her body flowed with the hands that pushed her off the stool and onto the floor. She felt the cold stickiness of cum against her face and the warm carpet that pushed against her aching joints. Through half opened eyes she saw dawn, cold yet rosy with promise, breaking over the pool and fruit trees. Laying on her stomach the nausea lessened until her fears were rekindled by the sounds of clinking glasses, drinking and laughter. "Euro-bitch. Up. On sofa!" shouted someone. Lauren knew it wasn't merely a polite request. She curled up, her throat aching from crying and shook her head. "No! Please. No more!" she pleaded, eyes still closed, her back presented to the voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself belatedly as best she could. "No.." "You get clean. Now!" The voice was louder. Lauren complied, although she didn't know why. She made no effort to try and weigh up what she should do. The crawl on her hands and knees as required was the easiest solution and was likely to be the least painful. The movement and change in position caused new waves of nausea and she vomited noisily as she straddled a plate of cigarette ends doused in wine. Strands of vomit trailed from her mouth and nose and she wiped herself with the back of her hand. She scraped great bunches of her hair away from her face with her nails, pushing them back behind her ear, away from her red eyes and trembling chin. Her stomach was agony, the retching providing little material but the involuntary activity continuing as tears now streamed from her eyes. She rounded the corner of the sofa, her slimy, tanned buttocks presented for all to see, and then clambered onto the cushions, curling once again, burying her head from sight as she again felt the sticky cum as her limbs settled. "Wait, bitch!" The music continued and Lauren was almost grateful for the comfort of the sofa and the rest. She took a mental inventory of herself, recognising that her head ached abominably, her guts felt strained, bubbling within, groaning under the effect of the wine and battering. Her legs ached and her thighs reminded her of school games afternoons. Her mind raced, school, home, her parents. The explosion of the truth hit her; this wasn't a dream, this was her body, her present and her reality. She had been raped by soldiers who said they would protect her and the children. They had guns, cocks, authority and time on their side. She had nothing. Her dream evaporated, her consciousness gradually allowing the feeling of compassion, care and gentleness to be recognised. Fingers traced her hip, her back and over her shoulder. The horror of the kindness struck her. She turned, panic on her face. "Emma, go to bed!" she hissed, chin trembling. She felt tears trickle down her cheeks. "They want me to look after you." Lauren saw her eyes widen as her eyes slowly took in the extent of her abuse until at whimper escaped her lips at the sight of the cum dribbling between her legs. "Tell them I'm OK, and you're going back to bed again!" Even with the T-Shirt around her body and thighs, she could see her trembling, unsure of what had happened previously and confused by the sudden change of the soldier's attitude. "Bitch, this one clean you!" The Officer towered above her, imperious, wine in hand, cigar drooping from his mouth. "No!" shouted Lauren. "Still child! I OK!" she said, pointing and gesticulating. The Officer shouted at Emma in Spanish, pointing at the hallway and lurched towards her as if to strike out. Lauren squealed, leaning across the sofa in an attempt to catch Emma and pull her out the way, but he took her hand and led her out of the room towards the kitchen. "Lori, it's OK, I'll be back!" said Emma, almost cheerily. The radio crackled above the din of the music, static interspersed with words that she didn't recognise. One of the soldiers ambled across to the set, tripping badly on his way and cursing as he fell hard against the wall. Lauren looked around the room, trying desperately to get an idea of what they intended to do and how she should react. Emma did indeed return a few minutes later with the bowl from the sink and a few cloths. She set the bowl down on the carpet by the sofa and knelt in front of Lauren. Emma looked again at Lauren's skin, blackened with her rough handling despite her tan, sweat and cum mingling, matting the hairs of her arms. Her face looked ghastly and Lauren saw the child cower as she discovered signs of the where the belts had bitten into her leg, leaving a red raw mark. They looked into each other's eyes, silent words exchanged before Emma picked up a cloth and soaked it in the warm water. The officer shouted once again. Lauren looked at Emma for translation, and watched as she lowered her head slowly, eyes fixed directly on the sofa in front of her. She shook her head. With enormous strides, he crossed over to her. She screamed loudly in anticipation, cowering as he roughly took hold of the little girl's T- Shirt at the nape of her neck, pulling hard so that it ripped easily down the back. Emma held the cloth to her breasts while Lauren protested, shouting, wincing in pain as she sat up and cursed the officer. He spun round, slapping Lauren hard across the cheek before ripping the remainder of the T-Shirt and pulling it out of Emma's hands. "You clean! Now!" He nodded at his soldiers who positioned themselves behind the sofa and spread Lauren's legs, holding her right foot on the top of the sofa and the left on the floor, exposing her reddened vagina. A look of shock crossed Emma's face as she stared at Lauren's pussy, her mouth open, comprehension lacking as she tried to piece together what may have happened while she had been asleep. Movement returned slowly to her hands as the first fragments of understanding germinated in her mind. She dipped the cloth carefully again in the water and gingerly tested Lauren's reaction by squeezing out the cloth on her stomach and very carefully wiping the area above her pubic hair. Judging that the cloth was cool enough, she spread it out over her pussy and held it against her skin. Lauren groaned but on balance was pleased to feel the cleansing of the water and the heat radiating into her. Her tears returned. More Spanish was directed at Emma, and as commanded, she clambered onto the sofa, kneeling between Lauren's legs and continued to wash her. The soldiers however moved to the end of the sofa and laughed as they feasted their eyes on the sight of her cute bottom and her pussy lips that gave away her shape through the material of her knickers. "You clean. You lick clean! Now!" shouted the officer, amusing his soldiers as they crowded round for the show. Dispensing with the cloth, Emma proceeded without much concern for her actions, gently licking along the length of her swollen labia, looking up occasionally to see if Lauren found her ministrations painful. The radio crackled again and Lauren felt that she and Emma had become a side show. The officer strode crossly over to the radio set and shouted into the mouthpiece. Throwing the handset down, he rejoined his team, leaning over the back of the sofa and grabbing Emma's knickers. "Eat!" he shouted. "Eat Euro-food!" he laughed, giggling like a schoolboy, looking at each of his command for their approval. He pulled at her knickers, exposing most of her young bottom to his gaze. With a final jerk, her knickers slipped down, bunching around the top of her thighs as she continued to lick Lauren. The soldiers were silent, in awe at the sight of the young girl and her obvious affection for the elder. "Lie down on sofa!" he said to Emma, taking her arm and pushing her hard against the cushions. "Kiss! Lick!" he said, now animated, frantic in his arm waving as though conducting a symphony orchestra. But Emma was compliant, cuddling into Lauren, offering her lips as the two girls entwined. Lauren felt the little girl's hand descending down over her breasts and the flatness of her stomach, finding the sore labia but caressing her in such a delightful way that she was fully prepared to believe that she was healing more quickly with her touch. They kissed as the soldiers seemed to lose interest. Activity picked up as they talked quickly into the radio, spreading a map out over the piano and leaving just one soldier who still kept hold of Lauren's right leg, pinned hard against the top of the sofa. Lauren heart rate drifted higher, sincerely believing that she was on the path to orgasm. She opened her eyes, noting that Emma lay close, tucked against her shoulder, eyes closed, smiling to herself. Lauren touched her breasts, reveling in their warmth, their softness and youth. She opened her legs further, now uncaring about the solitary soldier who watched over them. Emma descended slowly, her head gliding over her shoulder so that she rested on her breasts, imitating the child that Lauren might one day have, suckling her erect nipples, breathing over her as her hand found her vagina and tested the sweet, sticky entrance. Two fingers slowly entered her vagina. Lauren gripped Emma tightly, squeezing her with concern as she raised her bottom slightly off the sofa, discouraging any deeper exploration. Gently, Emma withdrew and pushed in again, careful to avoid causing any pain. TO Lauren's astonishment, their limbs entwined and loved. On balance, Lauren considered it might be the best way forward. The soldiers certainly seemed to have lost interest. Lauren considered briefly about her pre-conceived ideas that all men were meant to find lesbian love a turn-on. With the pleasure of the arrival of an old friend, she felt her orgasm rising, growing within as Emma slipped lower, her tongue briefly circumnavigating her navel before passing through her pubic hair and nestling in the folds of skin around her clitoris. Lauren watched, craning her aching head to see the beautiful blond locks bobbing up and down. She gripped her tighter, both girls locked together in warmth, Lauren shivering with her bubbling pleasure, Emma's sweet breath caressing her pussy. Fingers darted in and out, straight fingers that pushed against the walls of her vagina, rippling, knuckles against muscles, gripped by cum and contractions, pushing her further towards release. White. Brilliant white. Warmer, floating. Now very hot, flying. Funny, slow motion, floating in air. Wall approaching. Emma. Soldier. Glass. Chapter 44 Lauren knew that her right arm wouldn't move even though she issued all the right commands. She had more luck with the other. The carpet was there, warm, silent, pushing against her knotted stomach. Her heart beat furiously and further inventory revealed a headache of mammoth proportions. She turned her head slowly, her neck screaming abuse as her nose rubbed into the carpet. Skin. Smoke. She coughed painfully, the sound inside registering but traveling nowhere. Her heart leapt, adrenaline pumping furiously with nowhere to go. She touched the skin, warm and smooth and a distant rumble came from the darkness. She moistened her dust- encrusted lips, her tongue dry and swollen, a bland, thick taste in her mouth that reminded her of summer fields. She felt dizzy, swirling, crushed, the pain in her head throbbing mercilessly. Her temples ached and as she brought her hand close to her face to determine what may have happened she lost consciousness for the third time in the past ten minutes. Jamie cowered behind his bed, parting the curtains less than an inch as he watched the two soldiers dragging the bodies across the driveway and hauling them into the back of the truck. Both soldiers laboured slowly, wincing in pain, stopping occasionally to re-tie tourniquets around each other's limbs. Their blood-spattered uniforms were tattered, hanging off their shoulders. Once the three bodies were loaded, he stared transfixed. Ceremoniously, almost reverently, they removed their comrades' shoes, measuring them against their own before exchanging them, grabbing ammunition and rifling through pockets. Pieces of the radio were thrown onto the truck, resting beside the bodies as though someone might need to contact them. He knew what had happened because of the eerily silent crescendo of the two jets as they shot over the house moments before the explosion. The windows had rattled as the noise built up, the air vibrating with it's announcement of impending doom. But he could not remember the tell-tale high-pitched whine that often occurred in films as bombs are dropped from aircraft. He did remember however, the warmth that had burst into his room as the deafening roar of the explosion threw him to the ground. The truck pulled away slowly, lumbering down the drive. The feet of the dead soldiers kicked comically up and down as the truck negotiated the new holes in the roadway. He let the curtain slip back to its usual position, silently hoping they all died a slow, painful death in the near future. His head hurt, especially around the cheek where he had been beaten with the rifle. The dried blood on the palm of his hand confirmed that he had been cut, although the flow seemed to have abated in the past hour. The dull pain in his legs and back reminded him of the kicks he had taken as he laid on the floor, naked, curled up like a baby, squirming to avoid their heavy boots. Gripping the window sill he pulled himself up to a standing position, legs trembling with the pain of the beating and lack of food, and slumped onto the bed. More blood covered his sheets, although he had no explanation of how it had got there. He surveyed the room, noting that his clothes were where he had taken them off and hung them over his chair at riflepoint. His room was largely intact but something told him that the remainder of the house was a mess. He jerked as he thought of Emma and Lauren. He twisted on the bed in an attempt to see if they were on the truck, but it had long gone. Several minutes later, he turned and struggled to sit upright, his belly aching from blows and his head still reeling from the beating it had taken. Disorientated, he stood and fell to the floor, crawling with deliberation across to his clothes and struggling to pull his pants up to his waist. A pair of sneakers lay by the door and, pleased with his foresight, he pulled them on, prepared to find the world collapsed outside his bedroom. The door creaked unusually as he crawled like a dog out onto the marble corridor. Nobody was in sight. He clawed against the wall and pulled himself to a standing position, resigned to the fact that if he encountered any more soldiers there was nothing he could do. Dust and debris littered the floor. Walls bulged and cracked with plaster peeling, pictures hung at any angle except the horizontal. He wondered if the haze was smoke or dust as he cautiously rounded the corner into the lounge. Smoke. Rising from the shrubbery around the pool and the garden furniture. The patio windows were gone, their frames twisted, one wrapped around the overturned piano. Glass crunched underfoot as he made his way into the room. The television stared blankly at the plasterboard that hung from the ceiling while a small chandelier hung dangerously from the joists and exposed electrical wiring. Remnants of ornaments littered the floor and he saw his own face staring happily out from underneath the brick and plaster that concealed the carpet. He kicked the photo, exposing Emma as well, her arm round her brother. Both halves of the sofa were overturned, thrown against the wall, material hanging off them just like the soldiers' uniforms. He thought he would have found the two girls in the lounge. He knew the screams had come from the room. The muffled sound of Lauren crying quietly as the soldiers cheered haunted him, the lack of knowledge of her ordeal compounding his own imagination and torture at the hands of the soldiers. He turned and made his way to the kitchen, suprised to see that the utility room now existed without a wall while the kitchen itself was almost unscathed. Shaking badly, he opened the fridge and pulled out a yoghurt. As he sat and ate he realised that the light wasn't working and determined that it had to be fixed. As the food digested, reality returned. Grabbing a carton of milk, he gulped quickly, his belly complaining at the sudden demand. The light was the least of his problems. "Emma!" he shouted. He shook his head, wondering why he hadn't thought of shouting before, why food been more important than finding his sister. "Emma! Lauren! Hey!" Silence made him wonder if they had been put into the truck before he started to watch, taken to some other place to be further abused. With the milk in hand, he wandered into the dining room, shocked to see the window frames hanging from the walls and the glass cabinet shattered into firewood. Back in the lounge he crossed to the patio doors and peered out, dismay turning to anxiety as he felt his sphincter tighten. He sniffed, trying to hold back his tears. The pool had been filled in as though a comic book illustrator had taken his pen to it. Mounds of concrete were capped by debris from the garden. The water had disappeared somewhere, probably seeping through the wrecked patio. Plants lay tangled and smoldering. He saw the remnants of the sleeve of a uniform where the steps used to be, blood smeared on it. He looked away, frightened that he might encounter the arm that used to inhabit it. A groan behind him brought him back to reality. He turned, fearful that it might be a soldier. Again, the noise, but no sign of its source. He walked slowly back towards the hallway, guessing that it came from outside the front door or near Lauren's bedroom. Just before the threshold he saw a finger, poking from underneath the sofa. It bled, cut from the glass that was strewn over the floor. Convinced that the owner of the finger and groan were one and the same he bent down, pain wracking his shoulders and head. "Hey, it's me, Jamie!" "Help! Get me out! Please!" said Emma, terror in her voice. The finger moved slightly as a wave of relief swept over him. Jamie kicked the shards of glass away from the hand and brushed the dust and filth off the sofa with a cushion before trying to lift. Luckily, it came up easily, pivoting on the edge so that he could hold it while his sister poked her head out into the daylight. "Ow! Shit!" she screamed, cutting herself. She looked around, searching for a way out. Jamie watched his sister lying on her stomach, naked except for the dirty knickers that stretched around the tops of her thighs. "Oh God Jamie, what happened?" she cried, peering out from under the sofa. "Wait! There's glass everywhere." he said, bending down to look into the confined space. He considered lifting her but knew that if he dropped her she would be cut to pieces. "I'm going to lower the sofa again and go and get you some shoes. Mind out!" he said, letting the sofa swing back down again. He entered her bedroom and found a pair of slippers but continued hunting until he found a stout pair of outdoor shoes. Raising the sofa again, he watched her swing round until she faced him. The darkness precluded much sight of her, and he was surprised to feel disappointed at not being able to see her naked body. She put the shoes on and gingerly crawled out of the confines of the sofa, eventually standing naked beside him, sobbing, her little breasts bloodied but still young and perfect. He felt her eyes as she looked down at his underpants. Suddenly, Emma turned to her brother and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight as though he would be sucked away by the wind at any moment. He felt her breathing stutter and was sure she was on the verge of tears. His own lips trembled with his love for his sister, a lump hard and unwelcome in his throat. Releasing him from her grip, she turned back to the sofa. "I think Lori's under there as well. We'll have to roll it over her and then pick her up" said Emma, crying. Within a couple of minutes they had maneuvered the sofa so that it was back towards the middle of the room rather than hard against the wall. Lauren lay quite still on the clean carpet, ringed by debris and dust. Face down, her breathing was discernible. Jamie looked at her filthy body. Dust and small pieces of plaster covered her, sticking especially around her buttocks and the top of the backs of her legs. Blood had clearly oozed from a wound either in her forehead or above the hairline, matting her brown hair and trickling down her cheek. She looked ghastly. "Pick her up. Come on, you get her feet!" shouted Jamie, lurching to her head. He grabbed her hands and lifted her, suprised that she wasn't as heavy as he had feared. Slowly, they carried her out of the lounge. Jamie glanced up occasionally, again concerned that in a moment of potential danger and terror he should be more concerned with looking at his sister's pussy as she struggled bow- legged along the hallway than with ensuring he didn't drop the girl. "Take her into her room and we'll leave her on the bed!" he commanded, the blood banging against his head almost blinding him with pain. He crashed through her door and just managed to lift her onto the bed before dropping to the floor. "OK?" asked Emma. "I feel like shit! What about you?" "Dirty, but I think I'm OK. Jesus, Jamie, I'm scared. What if they come back?" "Let's just get cleaned up and then we can worry about that." "Shouldn't we do something with Lori first?" asked Emma. "I've no idea what to do, but without getting dressed we can't do much at all. We should both have showers, get the muck off ourselves and then clean Lori up, I think." said Jamie, not waiting for a reply. They returned to Lauren's room less than ten minutes later, both with wet hair and in dressing gowns and sneakers. "There's no electricity, you know" said Jamie. "Yeah, my hairdryer wouldn't work" she replied, carrying the same bowl that she had used before. New cloths were laid on her bed next to her. Jamie helped to roll her over onto her back and then slipped across the bed to the opposite side. Emma dipped the cloth into the warm water and laid it against her forehead. She stirred slightly, moaning as Emma rinsed the cloth and repeated her cleansing. Jamie looked over her body. Although her face looked dreadful, it would be fine after she had been cleaned up. But what really struck Jamie was that although she would never be a beautiful girl, she had the most wonderful body. Her breasts (presently covered in dust and blood) had the most perfect shape and delicate nipples. Her flat stomach gave way to the dark brown pubic hair that tried in vain to hide the shape of her labia. And he knew just what her long brown legs looked like from the days by the pool. He felt himself moving inside his underpants and made no attempt to take his eyes of her pussy except to watch his sister's hands move slowly from Lauren's face down across her shoulders and over her breasts. Jamie looked up and his eyes met his sisters. "She's perfect" stated Jamie. Emma nodded and continued wiping her breasts, rinsing the cloth frequently as the grime and dust disappeared from Lauren's nipples. She paused at her navel, looked up and offered Jamie the cloth silently. With only the slightest hesitation, he took the it and moved between Lauren's legs, rinsing and cleaning lower and lower until he tenderly touched her labia with the cloth. He looked up at Lauren, wondering if it would bring her round. With no activity at all, he parted her legs slightly wider and wiped down below her vagina and out along her thighs, cutting through the dust before rinsing again. She had more pubic hair than his sister - a lot more. But nowhere near as much as the girls in the magazines he had under his bed. He liked the way he could see her lips and their wonderful smooth shape. His erection steadied, proud against his dressing gown and quite obvious to Emma. But the look of adoration and wonderment in her eyes as she looked at him gave all the licence he needed. As he wiped more carefully his fingers strayed from the cloth and felt their way along the soft lips of her pussy. He wondered if all girls' pussy's were so red until he recalled once again the dreadful cries that had awakened him, made him race to his door. He remembered standing with the door opened less than an inch, his heart beating furiously as he listened to her cries. While he knew he should help he had decided that there was little he could do against five soldiers and simply stood there as the rhythmic strokes of the men pummeled her body. He had fled from the door half an hour later when two soldiers tumbled from the lounge, laughing, wine in hand as they made their way to his sister's room, dragging her out, fondling her lewdly as they escorted her to the lounge. The memory of his inability to act made him hang his head slightly as his cock pointed down towards the bed and his actions faltered. "Let's put her to bed. Try putting some water on her forehead, that might bring her round" said Jamie, slipping off the bed. He helped Emma to pull the covers over her naked body, glancing briefly before her pussy disappeared from view. Emma bathed Lauren's head lightly, washing the final layers of grime from her cheeks and around her eyes. "She moved! Look!" whispered Emma, grinning widely. Indeed Lauren was alive - as they knew - but not yet kicking. Her eyelids fluttered in recognition and then stopped once again. "Come on, let her rest." suggested Jamie. "Why don't you stay with her for a few hours and then I'll take over. You do from now 'til ten o'clock, OK?" "Hmm. Can you get some water for her to drink?" Jamie left for the kitchen, grabbed some water and ice from the fridge and took another quick inventory of the house. He was surprised that nobody had come running over to see what had happened. Perhaps people were still hiding in their houses, unsure what to expect. His body ached even more now, the bruises colouring his face and arms, Lauren's blood over his dressing gown. He thought again of how she had looked. Serene, dirty yet so pure, perfectly formed, asleep and unaware that he had touched her pussy, had pushed a finger almost an inch inside her vagina. He thought of her breasts, so firm, shaped like a model's. His erection grew again. He reached inside his dressing gown and encouraged it, rubbing his thumb over the hardening purple head, pulling the skin back slightly. His imagination transported him back into the lounge and what she must have looked like as the soldiers had sex with her. The increased heart-rate bludgeoned his aching head. Still wondering how he could think about sex less than an hour after his house had been bombed, he wandered carefully down the hallway, glancing at the precarious state of the lounge ceiling. Large areas had fallen in, soaked by the water than ran through the roof. The smoke had died away, but the smell of burning wood and plastic hung heavily in the air all along the hallway. His sister had tucked Lauren into bed and curled up alongside her. The room was dark now with the curtains pulled together, but chinks of morning light still filtered across the bed. Leaving the water on the bedside table, he sat next to Lauren, looking once again at her face, scratched and blotchy from where she had hit the wall. Blood still matted one side of her head and would take a great deal of soaking to remove. But she looked sweet, peaceful. Jamie wondered what he would have done if his sister had not been there. Smiling at her, he knew he had a few hours to put a plan together. His cock again stretched beneath his underpants as he left the room, crossed the hallway and slipped into his own bed. He thought about the house, the gaping hole in the lounge, the possibility of the return of the soldiers. And where were all the local people? Surely they would have been over by now to see what was left of the house. While they never even spoke to the neighbours, he thought that a bomb might have qualified them to a visit. Lauren. God, what a body, he thought, rubbing his cock slowly in his right hand. He recalled the warmth of her pussy, the wonderful lips of her labia and the intense heat that seemed to emanate from between her legs. His alarm clock showed seven forty-eight as he rolled over and drifted off to sleep. Lauren knew she was alive. Inexplicably, she felt so tired, waking momentarily, opening her eyes for less than a few seconds before drifting back into a mixture of sleep and unconsciousness. Senses told her that the breathing next to her belonged to Emma and her presence was a good sign. But there was no explanation for the searing headache and the incessant drumming against her temples that prevented her from remaining awake. Nausea billowed in her stomach as her eyes bulged in their sockets. Pain shot a miserable course through her body, pain that had no reason to be there, especially round her head. She rarely had headaches. Her mouth felt dreadful, dried beyond belief as though someone had taken a cloth and soaked every last drop of saliva from her. A craving for water occupied her thoughts to the exclusion of everything other wish except for the removal of the pain in her head. The pain was noisy, drumming, crashing around her mind, unwanted and uninvited. Red stars flashed before her eyes in time with her heartbeat, mesmerizing her and encouraging her stomach to divest its contents. She tried to turn her head towards the little girl but her muscles gave up. Determined to get some attention, she tried to groan, or make any sound, but it was as if she had lost all knowledge of how to communicate, even how to function. Scared, she tested her fingers and found them to be frozen but more responsive than any other part of her body. Unable to arouse Emma, she mentally slumped back into a state of misery, listening again to the silence of the house, the cacophony in her head and the breath of her little friend. She again passed out, unaware five minutes later of the changing of the guard. Jamie wore his dressing gown in bed but was determined to shed it once he knew Lauren was still out cold. He pulled the belt and loosened the sides of his gown, running the palm of his hand over his cock as if to confirm that showtime was just round the corner. Without underpants, it sprung up against the sheets, bobbing up and down harder and harder as his imagination took hold. Lauren lay next to him on her back, eyes closed, dormant. Deciding he would be forgiven for turning her onto her side, he gripped her arm and pulled her towards him in one clean motion. The sheet covered her shoulder, but her breasts were exposed. He looked at her face, still serene, blotchy, comatose, confirmation enough for him to also turn onto his side, facing her. Adrenaline shot through his stomach as he pulled his robe off his hip and exposed his cock, pointing directly towards her. He reached out and gently touched her nipple, withdrawing his hand instantly as he watched and waited for a reaction. Growing bolder by the minute, he caressed her breasts, inhaling sharply as he began to understand their firmness, shape and wonder. His hand slipped down over her stomach, finding the beginning of her pubic hair. His middle finger pushed down along the valley of her labia as far as her thighs would allow. His heart beat furiously, thumping in his chest as the danger of his actions grew. Emboldened and delighted with his exploration so far, he pulled her right foot up towards her left knee, opening her a little more without rolling her over. He took her right hand and guided her to his cock, pleased again that this now balanced her, preventing her from rolling around. Her hand was warm, loving, and wrapped around his cock without much assistance from him. Moving his hips back and forth, he managed to masturbate slowly, all the while keeping Lauren's hand in place with his own. His cock swelled beyond belief, thicker than anything he had ever experienced. Cautiously, he looked at her face, trying to detect any tell-tale signs of animation that might signal her return to the living. He had decided that if she came round he would quickly slip out of bed before she could identify him - and then swear blind that a soldier had returned. His original intentions of simply exploring her body a little further fell by the wayside as he bucked back and forth. A dribble of cum covered the end of his cock and he paused to rub it over the thick head and Lauren's fingers. Deciding that Lauren was out of this world completely, he rose to his knees and nestled behind her, resting for almost a minute as he watched her motionless body and listened for sounds of activity in the house. Satisfied that he wasn't going to be disturbed, he pushed her right leg way up towards her breasts, exposing her pussy. He stared down, transfixed by the sight of her labia squeezed between her tight buttocks and the glimmer of her anus. His fingers traced across the cheeks of her bottom, down along the valley and over her little brown hole, his eyes darting between Lauren's face and the course of his finger. He flinched, surprised at his courage and revolted at having touched her anus. Carefully skirting it a second time he ran his middle finger between her pussy lips, feeling the softest skin imaginable as he parted her slightly. His left hand found his cock, lightly pulling the skin back with two fingers as he stared at her sex. The surge of pleasure coursed through him, emboldening him as he towered over her. Shuffling closer, and convinced she was still comatose, he held her breasts with his left hand as he guided his cock towards her pussy lips. He trembled visibly as he rested at the entrance, pressing very gently to confirm that he had indeed found the place where her vagina would open and accommodate his desires. He rested again, partly to watch her but also to prevent his orgasm from gushing over her buttocks. Lauren knew that the pain had subsided a little because the drumming sound in her head was quieter. The sickness and dryness still persisted although her aches had mellowed as far as she could remember. Her recovery reminded her of one of the parties she had attended after her final exams at school. She had experimented the week before at school with a pack of French cigarettes, trying desperately to inhale the strong, roasted smoke of the Gauloise without spluttering feebly in front of her classmates. During the party, someone had offered her a cigarette in the darkness that had more than tobacco in it. Thankfully she had stayed overnight, because she had been very sick with the mixture of drink and drugs during the night and thought she might never see the morning light again. That feeling had slipped away as the small hours of the new day had passed, and so she grew in confidence now that she might be able to turn her head in the next few hours. Nothing focused in front of her, and she had no idea of how long she had laid motionless, staring through half-parted eye-lashes six inches in front of her at the stitched edge of the pillow, thinking of how the machine must have looped over and over to give it a pattern, how soft it should be but how hard and unyielding it felt against her face. Panic flashed through her mind, the ache returning with a vengeance. Something had changed in her universe. Nothing moved. Her eyes were still, unblinking. She thought she was moving again, nausea returning in response to her vertigo and loss of balance. Nothing added up, made sense or registered correctly. Perhaps the wind had man-handled her body, pushed her almost onto her back; perhaps her bed had moved. Her head reeled as though on a big dipper at the fair. If only she could get her muscles to listen to her. She managed to open her eyes slightly but still saw nothing. Muffled breathing behind her. She cried out but no sound came, no mouth action, only increased heart rate. Hands on her buttocks, pulling her cheeks apart. Yes, she recognised that. Warm hands. She was going to be sick, that was for certain. Groaning now, a man's voice. Tears would have rolled if she could have cried as she thought about the hard flesh pushing against her buttocks. Soldiers. Again. The cause of the pain. A finger slid inside her, and on balance she thought it had entered her pussy, poking around as though looking for something lost. Then a warm, stiff wedge. Then blackness, sleep and delivery from evil. Later that morning, Jamie and Emma both had baths, their combined gallons using up the remainder of the hot water. They talked about Lauren and were concerned that without electricity and phone all they could do was hope that she recovered. Emma pored over Elizabeth's "Family Medicine" and determined that given the symptoms, Lauren either had concussion or had suffered a stroke or maybe some exotic diseases that were hard to pronounce. Following instructions for all three remedies, she bathed Lauren's head regularly, tipping teaspoonfuls of water into her mouth every half hour. Now and again she would wash her body with a warm flannel. It was during the first of her washes that Emma discovered cum around her pussy. It stuck to her fingers, thick and slippery and had dribbled down onto the sheets. She concluded that it was a result of the soldiers and would check each time for any more - out of curiosity as much as anything else. It wasn't until just after nine in the evening, as Emma prepared to spend the night with Lauren, that they both heard a groan from Lauren's room. Dashing down the hallway, Emma burst through the door first to witness Lauren, eyes open, coughing and groaning, moving in bed. Each time she coughed her eyes screwed up in agony. "Hey, you're back with us" shouted Emma with glee. "Oh!" groaned Lauren, barely moving on the bed. Over the next few minutes Jamie and Emma discovered that all Lauren wanted was a warm drink of tea with sugar and sleep. In fact, when Jamie returned with the tea Lauren was asleep again and they woke her up, braving her groans to help her to drink. Less than an hour later she was sick. From that point on, Lauren vomited almost regularly, paradoxically growing stronger each time, moving more and groaning louder. By the following morning, Lauren was able to get out of bed with the aid of Emma and make it, shivering, to her bathroom. Her head hurt mightily, pounding with some built-in disturbance that modulated between a purr and the crash of a bass drum. Emma ran a bath as she sat on the toilet, urinating loudly and retching at the smell. She shifted herself slowly like an old woman, pain from her bruised limbs searing through her as she stumbled from the toilet to the side of the bath. Emma slipped her dressing gown from her shoulders and helped her gently into the warm water. A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she sank down, then leaned back and closed her eyes as the exertion caused her head to pound once again. She reached out for Emma, careful to maintain a point of reference with reality. Emma carefully washed her hair and did her best to remove the heavy clots of blood, soaking and rinsing her bruised body, watching the bath water as it slowly turned a reddish-brown. Occasionally, she caressed her skin, commenting on her lucky escape and how she would mend quickly. The vast majority of the commentary was wasted, passing over Lauren like her mother's warnings. She screwed up her eyes in preparation for the unknown. "Must call my parents" she whispered, exhaling with relief that she hadn't feinted from an unexpected pain. "Phones are out. The electricity came back last night we think, but it's off again." Lauren slumped back against the end of the bath, her face registering the pain, not the disappointment "You OK?" "Yep. I'm fine. You broke my fall, I think" "What happened? Remember floating" said Lauren, shifting her weight, nursing her bruises. Even with the bath she still felt dirty. Her stomach heaved, preparing to give up the very last of it's contents. "Jamie thinks a plane dropped a bomb. He thinks he heard another going off just after our one, down the road. Pool's gone!" giggled Emma, her glee turning into a frown. "So have some of the walls and the roof in the lounge." "What's funny?" "I don't know. It just makes me laugh that we could be dead, but we're not." She shrugged with little-girl shoulders. Lauren shook her head, slowly and carefully, each shake making her feel that the whole room was moving. :"Soldiers left just after it hit" informed Emma. "Oh! Soldiers! Are you OK? Did they.." Lauren's cheeks billowed as she fought the nausea. "No. I mean, yeah, I'm OK." Lauren sank lower. The water was getting cool but she didn't have the energy to get out. The memory of the events dribbled back. Repeated rape, aching limbs tied to something, their smelly cocks everywhere, the feeling of cum in her nose and their dirty fingers hard up her anus. The relentless fucking that she had been subjected to as they drunkenly cavorted round her. Her chin dropped and she cried, big tears couched in the corners of her eyes, teetering above her lashes before spilling over her cheeks. "They're gone." said Emma, caressing her hair. "Let's get you out and back to bed" "Felix?" "Haven't seen him yet. Phone's out, like I said." Lauren grimaced. "I can't move, I feel like ten tons" complained Lauren, shifting and straining. Emma tried in vain to move her but she was simply not strong enough to offer much assistance. "I'll get Jamie, he'll help" "No!" hissed Lauren, straining again with her arms on the side of the bath. "No!" Emma rested her hand on Lauren's arm. "Lori, he's seen you naked many times in the past two days. He pulled you out from under the sofa. And me. He washed you while you were unconscious and stayed with you while I slept." Emma looked down. Lauren felt her gaze resting between her legs. Both girls were silent. "OK, ask him, please." Jamie and Emma managed to guide her back to sit on the edge of the bed; Jamie held her still with his arms around her shoulders while Emma dried her gently with a new towel, dabbing her skin carefully to mop up the drops. Lauren complained briefly as Emma knelt in front of her, parting her legs as she pushed the towel carefully between her thighs. Jamie had the courtesy to avert his eyes from her legs, settling for a view of her bruised breasts, still stoic after their battering. As Emma finished her shins, he lowered her onto the bed and brought the sheets up to her chin, brushing the back of his hand against her nipple before tucking her up. Resting her wet hair on a towel, they watched her eyes close as she drifted once again off to sleep, gentle tears welling again in her eyes. -- +--------------' 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> /