Chapter One
Elizabeth Seaton emerged from a dark and hideous nightmare in which she
was being carried off, unable to fight or scream, in the jaws of some hideous
beast, while flaming brands descended like fiery rain out of the darkness onto
her naked body. With a jerk she came
back to life and a reality no less nightmarish.
She was hanging head downwards, enveloped in stiff canvas, across the
back of a small donkey whose trotting hooves she could see in the dim light
below her. Naked under the canvas, her body ached and smarted with every jolt
and shift it made on the donkey’s back.
Her wrists and ankles were bound with rope and her jaws gagged with
several more loops of the same, rough and salty-tasting.
She had come out of the dark sea, swimming
desperately through tumbling surf. She
might have foundered still, had it not been for a fortuitous piece of timber to
which she had clung until the surf cast her up at last, gasping and nearly
naked, upon a sandy shore. Clad just as
she had tumbled out of her bunk on the yacht, she staggered over loose sand
among looming dunes, a red spark of firelight beckoning her like a fateful star
through the blackness. Cold from the sea, she stumbled towards the promise of
warmth. She had no idea what to expect
from the defenders of this hostile shore, but she had nowhere to hide.
She had lost her loose nightshirt to the sea
and the thin knickers, all she now wore, clung to her shapely figure, so that
as she emerged into the circle of light, she appeared naked to the dark eyes of
the half a dozen crop-headed men in camouflage clothing who were clustered
about the fire. Her ample flesh was
goose-pimpled, her pricking nipples dark roundels, the wet knickers clinging to
a plump mound that showed dark through the thin material and plastered coldly
to round bottomcheeks. She was soon to be warmed up. Lurking far from the fighting among the sand
hills of the desert shore, these men had been drawn to the margin like jackals
in the hope of finding useful flotsam among the surf. Fallen haplessly into their clutches,
Elizabeth was a find beyond their wildest dreams,
At the last minute she turned to flee but
dark bodies mobbed her. Aroused and
bellowing carelessly, they enjoyed her wriggles. They carried her back and held her before the
fire while they questioned her in a throaty-sounding language she didn’t
understand. The heat began to roast
her. She made out only a few words of
English. “Spy! You spy! You spy!” The
fire flared up, rosily lighting her near nakedness and suddenly she sensed that
the mood had changed. One threat had
evaporated and another took its place.
Twisting desperately in their hands, she tried to explain about her
family and the yacht, but they seemed neither to understand nor be interested.
“Beasts… Beasts…” she panted as she was
displayed in the firelight, turned this way and that. Then suddenly she was violently up-ended,
head down, hair spilled over the sand, legs in the air. She could feel the heat of the fire on her
belly and the newly exposed underside of her breasts. More laughter erupted,
lascivious now as her thighs were splayed wide and a blade ran up through the
flimsy material of her knickers. She
shrieked in protest as she felt a man’s fingers tweak her revealed pubic
bush. The voices were argumentative. Then suddenly, as if a decision had been
made, she was dumped onto her back on the warm sand.
She lay limply, weak from her long struggle
with the sea and then with their hands.
At least she was not going to be murdered outright. She lay spread-eagled among them like a pale
starfish washed up by the sea, surrounded by mottle patterned trouser-legs and
big feet that scuffled in the sand, trying apprehensively to make sense of the
deep masculine grunts and guffaws. A log
fell in the fire, sending up a column of sparks and a rush of flame that
revealed one man in particular closing in between her out-flung legs, the white
line of tumbling surf at his back. He
was tall and lean his shirt, hanging open, revealing a muscular body. His trouser flies were undone and the red
firelight gleamed on the naked head of his penis projecting well beyond the big
male fist in which it was fondly cradled.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight. She drew a panicky breath and a cry burst
from her. She drew her legs up instantly
and made to roll aside, but his quick stoop caught her. Seizing her by the knees, the man forced her
wide open and slid onto the sand between them.
Her resistance was feeble compared with his brutal determination. His big hand clapped hard between her legs,
the horny palm cupping her soft mount; thumb splaying the lips of her vagina
and then forefinger going deep.
“Ver’ tight daarling! Ver’ good cunt!” Elizabeth squirmed her hips this way and that
in the sand as she was poked and prodded.
She threw her head to and fro, her wet hair in sandy tangles, the tears
mingling with the salty taste of the sea on her lips. Men’s voices bellowed and yelled to and fro
across her body in clamorous dispute.
Some were crouched alongside whilst some, who were still standing,
restrained her attempts to escape, pinning her limbs casually with their
planted feet while the finger between her legs pierced her like a struggling
butterfly. Her eyes flew frantically
from one face to another, but realised that they were all lean and cruel and
all regarded her as helpless prey. She
realised that she had no possible hope of escape. She was going to be passed from one to the
other, the dispute was merely as to which man would have her first. She let out a rising cry of protest, but it
only excited grunts and jeers in response.
It was a rare thing for these reluctant warriors to have the opportunity
to handle a woman and they didn’t intend to pass up this juicy piece of flotsam
thrown up for their benefit.
She was rolled over onto her face and made to
kneel up, or rather to thrust her rear end up, her cheek still pressed to the
cool sand, fingers and toes widely spread apart and seeking a grip in the
treacherous sand.
“Ver good ass, daarling!” She felt
hands upon her behind, prising the soft rounds apart. She tried to straighten upwards but her head
was hit hard, a dizzying slap. She was
thrust back into position and again her bottom was spread apart until she felt
the warmth of the fire all down her bottom cleft and heating her exposed pubis.
“You get good cock, daarling!” Elizabeth whimpered and trembled but dare not
put up a fight, remembering how she had been nearly roasted over the fire. She spread her knees in the sand as she was
bid and made no more than a groaning protest as a cruel finger tested the vent
of her anus. It thrust in hard, up to
the knuckle joint and her muscles reacted just too late to stop the
intrusion. She succeeded in only
enhancing the effect, squealing in fear and indignation. Clamping tight on the wriggling finger she
heard derisive male laughter. In
confusion she loosed her grip and the finger sank deep within her, the hard
male hand coming flat against her cheeks.
She wept in dismay, unable to find a way to deal with this wholly
unaccustomed treatment. Roughly clad
thighs slid beneath her as the owner of the finger used its leverage to lift
her rear end upwards. It was crooked
painfully in her rectum so as to keep her rigid and helpless. Hoist up onto his loins like that, she felt
the blunt knob of his penis thrust stiffly up beneath her. The heavy weight of
masculine feet trapped her arms; her head and shoulders were pressed into the
sand. The man’s hard muscled body curved
to enclose her softer one, his thrusting hips parting her thighs wider.
Elizabeth threw her head up, looking wildly
this way and that for any way of escape, opening her mouth to voice a protest
that died on her lips as she took in the encircling male legs and thighs,
mostly naked now, muscular and wiry. Rampant male cocks jutted and dangled left and
right of her from under loosely hanging shirts.
She closed her eyes tight to shut out the sight and her head sagged in
surrender. Unable to evade what was
happening to her, she was forced to face its reality. She recognised that she was the men’s prize
and would be used as they pleased. She must simply endeavour to endure until
they were finished with her.
So little as a couple of hours ago she had
been asleep in her bunk, in the familiar comfort of her family’s floating home,
repaired and restored, seeming safe at last from the chaos and danger of an
incomprehensible foreign war, the yacht headed for the peace and freedom of the
open sea. A deceptive peace! Suddenly she was alone and helpless on a
desolate and hostile shore, naked prize to a rabble of desperate, violent and
randy men.
Coming from up from beneath her a rearing
cock head nudged unmistakeably where her assailant’s finger had just been. Elizabeth reacted instinctively, trying to
wriggle herself away from it and there was a wave of mocking laughter.
“Ahhh! You want, daarling eh!” With a
stab of shame, she recognised that her ineffective motion had looked like an
invitation, as if she was opening herself wider to the brute. Forcing her to remain in that provocatively
rearing pose, he prodded at her, nudging his cock between her sex lips and then
slipping it out as if unable to decide where to put it in. She felt the great knotty length of it as it
slid along the curved underside of her belly one moment and then reared up the
soft furrow of her bottom the next.
It seemed to be the impatient urging of the
other men that impelled him to cut the game short. With sudden haste he got down to serious
business, shifting his grip so as to splay her wider across his thighs,
spreading her bottom with his thumbs and driving his bulbous cock-head into her
slit. Elizabeth mewled and groaned, her
fingers and toes raking at the loose sand as she strove to assimilate the
intrusion. The man rammed in without concern
for her reaction, going deep to the hilt.
His fingers gripped her thighs like iron claws, thrusting her deeper
into the loose sand until she felt its grit upon her lips. A little mound of it had been driven up by
her chin and, shrouded by the damp tendrils of her own hair, she could see
little than those few inches of sand illuminated by flickering firelight. She struggled to lift her head instead in the
hope that she could get at least a breath clear of sand but the feet of the men
nearest her shuffled impatiently, kicking up even more of it. The fire flared up suddenly as some bystander
roused its embers to give more light.
She was conscious of being watched from all directions by avid male
eyes.
The man behind her, hard up within, paused
briefly and then withdrew. Elizabeth
gasped for breath in the brief respite.
A series of quick short thrusts followed, accompanied by appreciative
grunts when Elizabeth was forced to react with renewed vigour, squirming
desperately to keep clear of the sand in front, with her feet kicking up little
spurts of it behind the man’s back. He
kept this speed up for a few more strokes before he settled down again, fucking
her solidly and steadily, grunting rhythmically all the while.
Elizabeth told herself frantically that this
must surely be a nightmare she would presently wake up from. But the gritty sand under her body was real,
the trickling sweat and the fire scorching her flank were real, the shuffling
men about her were real. The cock
thrusting within her was all too undeniably real. She tried to ease her position only to find
that her wriggles excited her abuser all the more. He jerked out harsh words through gritted
teeth and was echoed or answered by other voices. Elizabeth felt as if she had become a mere
appendage to his cock, a sex doll with no will of her own. Her hips and thighs flopped and jerked upon
his, penetrated by the wild thrusts. She found herself uttering little gasping
cries at the effect, clawing and kicking at the sand with legs and arms
outstretched.
The brute behind her bellowed deeply and
immediately she felt the effect of his release spurt within her. She wailed in response, her limbs threshing
ineffectively as he collapsed on top of her, wallowing heavily and crushing her
flat on the sand. She felt only relief that it was over, feeling him shrink,
his lust discharged. But when he vacated
her at last, it was only to give way to others.
The men crowded round her, bellowing and
snarling, at once lewd and savage. They were all disputing for turns over the
buxom female figure sprawled naked at their feet, glimmering white in the
moonlight but rosily flushed wherever the firelight touched its curves. Looking large-eyed from one disputant to
another, Elizabeth quivered with confused reactions to their desire. Wild thoughts revolved around the inescapable
reality of her position. She was
stranded like flotsam on the shore, naked and helpless, a sought-after prize,
with a crowd of brutal men competing for possession of her.
Alarm and shame drew her to begin a defensive
curl before the reaching male hands but they would have none of it. She was made to kneel up again and present
herself openly once more, knees apart, wide spread, so the men could better
appreciate all that they had taken possession of. She told herself that there was no point in
protest or resistance. She was alone and
beyond rescue in a world collapsed into savagery. She posed submissively at their feet, all
that she had to offer on display, as if the only way to preserve her life was
to emphasise what was of value to them.
Five or perhaps six took her then, one after
another, each invading the same gummy orifice that his comrades had pumped full
before him. It became an almost
mechanical process for Elizabeth, hard hands gripping and kneading her flanks,
stiff male cock probing then penetrating, pounding her hard, discharging wetly
and quickly abandoning her. Though well
lubricated, she felt every inch of the cocks as they reamed her, co-operating
in their reception as she felt she must.
She squirmed slowly forward in the sand, pushing up loose grains in a
ridge before her chin and shoulders, her scrabbling fingers creating long
grooves.
What seemed - eventually - to be the last of
her captors duly came to his surging conclusion and moved away from her. They
began arguing again, all in a group about the fire, violently gesturing at one
another. Sprawling limply where she had
been abandoned, Elizabeth saw with terror that several of them had knives or
bayonets out. One of the disputants
emerged from the group. He came over to
her again, stooped and lifted her by a fistful of hair, yanking her painfully
onto her knees before him on the trampled sand.
She was sure that she was to have her throat
cut, but he gestured downwards. The
man was stripped to his undervest and from a black
bush in his naked loins his penis hung thick before her face, still half
erected though a bead of white on the tip showed clearly that he had used her
once already. His words, harsh and
throaty sounding, made no sense at first, but his gestures made clear what she
was expected to do and then she recognised that his words were English of a
sort.
“Make good fuck! Not kill for spy! Keep live!”
She looked at the shadowy figures of the
other soldiers, settling back by the fire.
Fiercely red-lit faces turned to regard her expectantly across the
flames. She understood. She would have to please her captors in new
ways now, merely for her own preservation. Cheeks aflame, she reached up and
took the great root in a cautious grip, right hand curling at its hairy base,
the fingertips of the other running up and down the column, feeling it lift and
stiffen. She clung to it, on her knees
before it, as if in obeisance to its burgeoning vitality. Above her the man grunted in complacent
approval, gripping her by the shoulders.
Suddenly she had a hope that her manipulation might suffice, abandoning
reserve in an attempt to carry him away completely.
Before she could achieve as much, she was
thrust from him with an oath and roughly turned away, back onto all fours on
the sand. A bare foot kicked her into
position with thighs spread wide and a horny big toe hooked into her wet and
stinging sex from behind, lifting her rear high up. Knowing she had no choice, Elizabeth bit her
lip and did her best to present herself the way he seemed to require. Hands slapped her bare flanks, setting her up
as the target. His cock head, now the
precursor of a stiffened stem, nudged in and rammed hard. Elizabeth groaned and whimpered. Once more she was face down in the trampled
sand, splayed apart, being thrust to and fro, sliding over hard male thighs as
a solid male shaft did the thrusting.
Suddenly she changed the whimper into
something she hoped would convey an impression of acquiescence, remembering
that this time she was expected to show willing. She was very wet and he slid easily into her,
taking his time as if enjoying her efforts.
With some dismay she found that trying to please the brute was having an
effect upon her own body, but she was beyond making fine adjustments to the
nature of her response. She gasped and
panted desperately, sand tangled hair over her face concealing her expression,
doing her best to speed him into orgasm before she lost control herself. At last the brute spurted into her for his
second time, groaning and grunting in delight. Allowed to sag into shuddering
immobility on the sand, she felt an absurd sense of gratitude for such virile
speed.
But the remission did not last and in a
matter of minutes another man had taken his place. Elizabeth reluctantly struggled up again as
he slid to his knees in the sand behind her.
No doubt this one would expect as much of her as his precursor! As he entered her, she gasped and then
squealed in protest. The thrust this
time was to her anus, not the entry she had been expecting! His big hands held her firmly though, despite
her panicky wriggles, strong thumbs splaying her bottom cheeks apart. She thrust hillocks of sand back behind her
with scrabbling toes and spreading knees, fingers reaching similarly in vain,
for a grip in sifting sand. The
intrusion within her rectum felt like a column of fire, surging back and forth,
its knobbed head seeming as big as a boulder.
She felt the flesh of her distorted anus clung to the solid intrusion
and trying to follow it in and out with rubbery adhesion.
Remembering that her reaction to this abuse
might be a matter of life and death, Elizabeth desperately tried to pull
herself together. She endeavoured to
ignore her own pain and to smooth her reactions to coincide with his ramming
shaft. She tried to make her squeals
sound like a compliment to his size. She
felt herself hoist bodily by the hips, backside in the air, toes just grazing
the sand and thereafter was helpless to affect events. Flopping loosely, she was pulled onto his
shaft like a tight boot and then thrust off again. Verbal contribution finally failed her
too. She tried to keep up the pretence
but she was too hoarse even to squeal.
In a panic, her mind centred upon the
progress of her abuser’s deepening lunges, desperately assessing every nuance
of his grunting and thrusting. Feeling
her whole rear to be one huge ruined red-hot hole, she could do nothing to
shorten her ordeal and was forced to long instead for his speedy gratification.
Suddenly it was there, bursting wetly in her
bowels, greeted by the pair of them simultaneously, one bellowing in triumph,
the other wailing her relief. As he
pulled back out of her, Elizabeth sagged in his hands as limp as a deflated
doll. She was dumped face down on the
damp sand, legs apart, gasping and groaning while the man brushed himself off,
his throaty exclamations evidently expressive of satisfaction and walked away
to join the group by the fire. When at last she raised her head, she saw with
numb despair that they were arguing once more.