Chapter One

 

Jane Tressilian could see the distant audience of her humiliation even with vision blurred by sweat, tears and strands of her own hair, despite the close-cropped skull of the soldier in front. Held helplessly between the two men in a double grip, she saw faces turned her way amongst the slowly shuffling column of refugees on the road, from whose ranks she had been so recently plucked. Too distant to determine what those faces registered, whether shock, alarm or dismay, but at any rate none of them dared do other than look, and shuffle fearfully past.

"Ahhh ... Please ... Ahhh ... You ... can't...!" She began a jerky protest which experience should have taught her would not be acceptable and was duly silenced with a slap that jarred her teeth. Sandwiched between two heaving muscular bodies, she endured yet another double thrust, with only a despairing gasp. Arching involuntarily upwards, straining against the foremost soldier's armoured chest and clutching at his shoulder straps, she was dragged back downwards again by his comrade behind her, hard fingers gripping the soft flesh of her hips, the stiff edge of his armoured jacket pressing in to make a hard line across her behind.

"Ahhh ... Uhhh ... Ahhh ... Uhhh...!" she gasped as two solid male shafts thrust in turn. Jane's captors were short if stalwart men and Jane was taller than either, but in the powerful double grip, intimately shared, penetrated simultaneously front and rear, she was thrust and tossed helplessly between the pair. Forward and back, up and down, teeth clenched on her reactions, clutching at their uniforms for an anchorage, her eyes sought vainly about her for some hope of rescue or release.

Behind her and on either hand the slender boles of rubber trees regularly planted, but now untended, stretched in unbroken ranks dwindling into the level distance. Before her an open grassy slope rose steeply to where the road ran slantwise along the valley side, marked by the raw red earth of its cutting. Above it was impenetrable jungle fronted by whitened tree boles with dark depths beyond. Down that slope from the road a scatter of white scraps, shreds of blue and a pair of white sandals, widely separated, marked both the course of her descent from the ranks of the refugees and her reduction to her present state of nakedness. Closer to hand, more tidily disposed, was the piled equipment of her captors: knapsacks, water bottles, helmets, weapons, even the odd little swords, so antique-seeming but by demonstration so fiendishly effective.

Jane rode half a head above those of the two soldiers but pinned quite helplessly between them, wide-legged on their inter-thrusting pairs of thighs as if straddled upon a bucking, precarious human saddle. The men's hands held her firmly in place and she clutched at them in return, only in an attempt to ease her penetration, for the double width of their brawny thighs splayed her own legs so wide that her straining toes barely skimmed the grass tips without finding solid purchase.

"Aiii ...eee..!" she squealed suddenly. The man to her front had ducked his dark bullet-head as she was thrust upwards and seized one of her jiggling nipples painfully between his teeth.

As if stimulated by the sound of her distress, the brute behind her pressed ruthless thumbs between her bottom cheeks, forcing them further apart as he rammed an enormous cock another painful inch or so further up into her. Jane squealed in despair as her own weight sank her inexorably deeper upon two alternately thrusting equally monstrous erections, her long legs extended wavering to either side, her arching torso going up and down and back and forth like a mechanical toy.

"Ahhh ... Uhhh ... Ahhh ... Uhhh...!" Penetrated front and rear, splayed to splitting point, she clutched first at one man then at the other, gasping as her frantic efforts to ease one thrust only impaled her more thoroughly upon the other. Under the canopy of the rubber trees and within full view of the road and the passing refugees, the conjoined trio surged and staggered like some fabulous six-legged, three-headed monster.

Its three components gave voice in rhythmic sequence. The two soldiers alternately grunted and hissed in counterpoint to Jane's high pitched steady squeals as she was thumped and squeezed between them like a living substitute for an inflatable rubber doll. Two pairs of strong male hands kept her unwillingly in place, two firm male bellies beneath the hard edges of the armour rammed her alternately front and rear, two massive cocks, tacitly synchronised by their grunting owners, reamed her up and down in alternating thrusts. One went in as the other slid out and then that one in again as the first withdrew, never quite leaving her, never quite meeting, yet convincing Jane that if they ever did, she would be split in two.

Helplessly she rode the surges, gasping and squealing, mouth agape and eyes brimming with tears of shame and confusion. Her body was being bounced like a beach ball in the rhythm of their impact. She was unable to stop her hips rotating like a belly dancer's, bottom cheeks bouncing in one pair of muscular male loins and rebounding from them only for her belly to thump into the other pair. Tears running down to mingle with sweat made her assailants' smooth armour slippery against her skin and, trickling lower between their two bodies, lubricated the naked parts where she and they inter-thrust.

Slowly Jane forgot her surroundings, forgot the audience. Her mind had become filled with the heat and hardness and the brutal thrusting of the two cocks. She had abandoned any hope of influencing her fate; she was a thing to be used as her captors pleased. For a seeming age the hard flat planes of the armour, the muscular male bodies slammed and bounced her yielding body breathlessly between them. Her fingers clutched spasmodically at parts of their uniforms. Her loose hair flew about her face and clung in wet strands and got into her open mouth. Split and pounded she rode the wild surging maleness like a cork tossed between two colliding breakers.

From time to time, one or other of the men grunted something at her that might have been either abuse or exhortation, but were alike incomprehensible to her. Suddenly the rate of thrusting redoubled and then the man in front yelled at her in unmistakable triumph, his comrade to the rear returning an obvious curse as their rhythm was broken. They all floundered. Jane wailed in despair as she felt the cock ramming deep and hard in her vagina spurt wetly inside her. Her wail promptly rose another notch as the man behind thrust too, almost simultaneously and with extra vigour into her rear entry.

Not quite split after all, she added her shrill cries to the deep grunting of the two men, willing them to finish quickly and end her ordeal!

Suddenly she found she had lost half her mount. The front man finished and satisfied, had pulled from her so abruptly that a thread of sticky white was left dangling between them from his retreating penis. Jane toppled forwards as he drew away, still being thrust into from behind by the remaining man and only held at the hips, she folded in the middle, hands reaching to save herself. Tipped upside down, heels kicking in the air, she landed on her hands and instinctively, to save herself falling, clamped her thighs tight about the man's hips.

Removal of one penetration only threw the other into greater prominence and the male member penetrating her narrower passage now seemed more painful than before. For only the briefest instant Jane remained precariously poised and then the soldier lunged hard from behind. She was driven forward, lurching a step and walking on her hands, squealing, at each thrust. The man was wheel-barrowing her round in aimless circles on the grass, each jerky step making Jane's clinging anus do such involuntarily astonishing things around his buried stem that he too, shot his bolt in short order, spurting wetly into her with a series of satisfied grunts.

At last Jane was set free, collapsing with a groan onto her hands and knees on the trodden grass before her captors. Head down and hair trailing on the ground, she was left with her thighs still widely parted. White cum dribbled from her reddened anus to meet that still clinging to the curly brown hairs of her pubic bush below, marking the success of her double violation. Its two perpetrators pulling up their pants and adjusting their clothing in leisurely fashion, laughed and joked over her cowering form in an evident spirit of mutual congratulation.

Sobbing and too shattered to care, she crouched on the grass, unheeding of their jabber. She felt as if two gaping holes had been driven between her legs, both of them wet and throbbing. Then the remembered wicker of steel being drawn cured her of exhaustion and made her look up in sharp anticipatory terror.

One of the men was taking an unhurried swig from his water bottle, but the other, with naked sword in hand, was wiping the gleaming blade on a scrap of lace-trimmed white cotton and eyeing Jane with clear purposefulness. They had not finished with her. Jane desperately extended her hands in a propitiatory gesture towards the man with the sword, trying to express submission by her posture. Her pleas so far had been useless; they understood no English and she knew what that blade could do! She already bore the proof of its razor-sharp precision and of the swordsman's skill expressed in thin red lines of dried-blood across her naked skin. She had thought herself lucky even to reach this point alive.

Thrust downhill from the road at gunpoint by the two hard-faced soldiers wearing the black sunburst symbol of the New Shogunate, she had been convinced that she was to be executed out of hand. Everyone knew what happened wherever the armies of the Hidden Empire conquered. Her fellow refugees had presented no obstacle to her seizure. They were people who feared a similar fate for themselves; those who were unable to prove they were either cultivators or handicraft workers and so have a chance of being spared. They were those who might be seen as intellectuals or professionals, or merely as being too westernised. The best they could hope for was to become forced labour for the conqueror. Jane Tressilian, so obviously and inescapably Western amongst them, represented danger, a symbol of what the invaders intended to erase.

Earlier two slender dirigibles, shark-like airships, had passed overhead, producing hysterical terror among the refugees until it became evident they had other quarry, heading southward towards the capital, no doubt to carry fresh horrors there. Jane had still continued confident that the refugee column must be well ahead of the advancing enemy, right up until the two soldiers appeared from nowhere, coolly inspecting the shuffling dispirited column like herders surveying a cattle drive, masters of the scene.

They easily winkled Jane out from her concealment among the crowd, even though she tried to walk at a half crouch to conceal her height. No one had dared resist or protest as she was driven at gunpoint down the hillside; those uniquely effective dart-guns they carried were the essence of their superiority. Jane remembered her husband drilling with the local defence volunteers, armed with nothing better than home-made spears and jungle knives.

As she stumbled with wobbly knees and a pounding heart down towards the rubber trees, memories of old war movies kept her arms raised high in the air empty-handed, in a gesture of helpless surrender. No doubt her fellow refugees had been quick to appropriate the dropped bag that held her precious rice ration. On the way downhill she turned her head several times from one to the other of her captors in the hope of seeing some sign of mercy in the hard, flat yellow-brown faces beneath the steel helmets. They might have been twins either side of her. Rumour had it that the invaders were all clones grown in a laboratory. They were not tall but very broad-chested, powerfully muscular men. The only difference she could see between them was that one had a single black chevron on his collar, the other two. The helmets, armoured jackets, baggy pants, boots and especially the antique looking swords, gave them a resemblance to medieval Samurai, despite the all-conquering dart-guns.

Before they were half way to the trees Jane had been panting hard, fear leaving her short of breath, her blue linen dress soaked with sweat that ran in cold trickles between her breasts and down her back even to the crevice of her bottom cheeks. She came to an involuntary halt with a little frightened shriek as the two-chevron soldier, his gun slung back over one shoulder, drew his antique sword and its sudden gleam caught her eye. One-chevron drew his sword too and they grinned wordlessly at one another with Jane between them, the naked sword blades no longer seeming antique.

Before Jane could gather her breath to plead for mercy, the two-chevron soldier swept his sword down like a slice of light. Even as she tensed to leap back from it Jane felt a sudden shock of cool air on her heated skin as the skirts of her dress fell apart, severed in one clean sweep from waist to hem. Her hands, reaching belatedly, met only bare thighs and then flew at once to her rear as a slice from the other man's sword slit the whole dress into two loosened side panels. She stumbled forward a few paces, instinctively trying to get beyond the swords' reach, but they followed her inexorably, flickering in at her by turns, driving her before them, the impromptu panels floating loose.

Stumbling on in shock and terror, she lost the entire dress piece by piece, slashed by the swords and left fluttering behind her, acquiring in the process a series of bright red lines that ran here and there wherever the dress had clung and which oozed a slow bead or two of blood. Menaced by the two blades that could cut her flesh to pieces as readily as her garments Jane could only repeat her gesture of surrender, both hands in the air, coming trembling to a halt, wide eyed, not daring to move from the spot.

The two soldiers played sword games with her, slashing here and there, pretending to menace her half-naked body with their sword points, enjoying her humiliated wriggles with a noticeably lascivious pleasure. The first sword slash to wreck Jane's dress had caught the tight elastic connection of her white lace bra and now it burst of its own accord as she twisted and jinked between the flickering blades. The two parts slipped down her arms and tumbled her bare breasts free. The sword point caught and flicked away the remains, leaving her stripped to scanty cotton briefs and high-heeled sandals, exposed to two pairs of avidly devouring eyes.

Jane's hands shot nervously downwards attempting to cover her nakedness and as quickly up again when the sword threatened. She backed in panic and the flat of a blade smacked her hard across the behind, driving her with a yelp on downhill again, in among the first of the trees. She knew by then that she was not going to be executed, at any rate not until her captors had their use of her.

"Nekkid!" one of the men said with relish, the first indication she had been given that the brutes could speak, let alone that they knew any English. His sword suddenly occupied the V of her thighs, the point poised, out of sight. Jane did not dare move, forward or back, a slight recoil on her part had told her where the blade behind her was resting.

"We make!" The sword-tips unzipped her simultaneously, ripping upwards! One through the slight bulge made by her pubic hair, the other up between the cheeks of her behind. Half exposed before and behind, Jane had no doubt about what she risked from a further slash. The ruined briefs clung too snugly to her curves for even such skilful sword-work to remove them scathe-less. The threat of an attempt was so vivid that as the swords drew back an instant, she thrust the remnants down her thighs with frantic haste.

Burning with chagrin, she heard her captors' lewd appreciation of her alacrity in hastening to get them down. Another smack across the bottom with the flat of the sword brought her erect with another yelp, the white cotton tangled about her knees. A quick slice of its razor-sharp partner relieved her of the need to do more, parting their remains in two fluttering pieces.

Stark naked except for her sandals, she stood red faced and trembling before the two men, hastily returning her arms to the raised position at the gesture of a sword. She was conscious of their scrutiny of her nakedness and in no doubt as to its nature. She was a prize of war and these were the conquerors. She was theirs to do with as they pleased. But despite that, her eyes still went for one last desperate time to the road above in hope of some prospect of rescue

"Hairy woman!" Two-Stripe sniggered and instinctively Jane pressed her thighs closer.

"Monkey woman!" His sword forced her to reopen them and both men guffawed as she revealed a luxuriance of pubic bush rarely seen in their own race.

Jane had given up hope. Up on the road the procession of refugees had still been straggling past but there was no sign of rescue. All were preoccupied with their own terrors. She had not been surprised when the two soldiers began to shed equipment and then to unbutton their pants, only by its duality of action.

Now, on her hands and knees on the grass, having survived the simultaneous rape and buggery, she faced once more the threat of razor sharp steel with tales in her mind of women mutilated, people dismembered and beheaded.

"Go-to!" The soldier flourished the sword blade before her point down, gleaming blue steel.

"Go-to!" his colleague echoed. Having come silently up behind Jane, water bottle in hand, he gave her an unexpected kick that pitched her forwards almost at the feet of the sword wielder.

"Go-to!" A further boot toe thumping between her legs first lifted her rump until her thighs were vertical and then kicked her knees wide. From behind the tip of the sword pricked the back of her neck, forcing her to bow her head until she had her nose pressed to the grass with the other swordsman's boot toes filling all her view.

"Ahhh! Go-to!" Suddenly it came to her. She was being given a lesson in what was expected of her, learning the commands and how to obey. Above her she heard the soft slither of the sword going back into its sheath. The man nudged her with his boot. He pointed behind her to where his comrade was exhibiting his own sword in the same way. "Go-to!"

So she had to turn and adopt the same posture before the second man. A gesture of submission she guessed, or perhaps more hopefully, she was meant to be thanking them for sparing her? At least it didn't look now as if she was going to be executed.

When they set about loading her with their packs and water bottles she thought she understood why she had been preserved. As a beast of burden! A rope around her neck for a halter completed the image. She knew these invaders used prisoners for slave labour; perhaps she was destined to join one of their labour gangs.

In her exhausted and battered state she could hardly manage the weight they put upon her and sank under the unwelcome burden, her knees giving way after a few steps. The packs overbalanced her and she went down sprawling, feeling like a foundered mule, her legs going all ways while one of the packs gave her a dizzying clout on the side of the head. She was treated like a recalcitrant mule too. The brute holding her halter nearly strangled her as he yanked her to her knees. The other gave her burden a heave and simultaneously used the doubled-up strap of his water bottle across her rear.

Thwackkk! Thwackkk! Jane found a sudden reserve of energy. She sprang forward with a double yelp, struggling to right her burden at the same time as she tried to escape further punishment. The soldier made sounds indicative of satisfaction, sparing her the strap while he set her load straight and waved her forward. Jane found that she could manage after all. Another sort of lesson taught her, perhaps.