The Gangbang Of 60441 Private Peterson

Extract

 

'What was that?'

'Stop it!' Julie begged. 'You're freaking me out!'

No one knows if Julie grabbed Paula first, or if it was Paula that held tightly to Julie, but each froze on the spot, as a soldier, his hands and face darkened with camouflage cream, emerged from the tree line. He didn't look at all friendly.

'Run!' Julie yelped.

The girls spun on their heels and instantly stopped in their tracks. In front of them was another soldier with a blue arm band, then another to their right and another to their left. Frozen to the spot in fear, one soldier after another emerged, first ten, then twenty, thirty almost forty surrounded the girls.

Julie, gulping hard, pushed her hands into the air.

'I surrender!'

'It's not your surrender I want!'

Paula and Julie spun around. They recognised that voice.

'I want her to surrender!' Dobson grinned, pointing at Paula, who instinctively pushed Julie behind her.

'Grab her!' Dobson demanded of the recruit standing to her right.

Immediately, he shouldered his rifle and stepped forward, hand out ready to grab her jacket, but Paula had other ideas.

As soon as he gripped Paula's jacket, she held his hand tightly, pushed her entire body over to the left, forcing him to release his grip, then swung his arm hard over to the right and just as his unbalanced body was falling, she pulled his arm up and twisted it behind his back. Pinned on the floor, the soldier howled in pain.

'I can break it if you want!' Paula grunted, yanking his arm still further, making the young boy plead, begging her to make the pain stop.

Dobson sighed. At least her resistance would make her capitulation more enjoyable. She nodded to two recruits on her left. They both dropped their rifles and cautiously approached Peterson, who had already thrown away her helmet and removed her jacket. There could be no mistake. Paula was up for a fight.

Clearly focussed on one, she charged at him, screaming holy murder, but as she approached him, she spun, changing directions and thrust an open hand, burying the tips of her fingers into his neck. He dropped like a stone, leaving the other one horrified, off guard and easy prey for a keen martial arts student. Paula's right leg lunged out, contacting at the recruits knee, bending it backwards and in an instant dislocating it from its socket.

'Who wants their nose broken?' Paula screamed, faking a lunge at anyone who dared to even appear that they might step forward.

No one volunteered.

'Close up! Dobson demanded. 'Make a firm circle!'

'Come on you bastards! Whose next!'

Paula spun on her heels, guided by Julie's scream. She had been nabbed, manhandled and shoved outside of the circle. Tears erupted at the sound of Julie's pitiful, begging screams.

She tried. Paula tried hard to break the circle, but the sharp rifle ends wouldn't allow her to make contact. In a frantic, wild and desperate attempt, she charged at them, but was beaten back, falling to the floor. Between legs, Paula could see Julie held down, a large, gleaming knife push inside the gap in her clothing at the neck and in a sawing motion cut clean through her clothes and bra, pulling the flapping material to the sides and exposing by comparison large, fleshy, incredibly soft, bouncing tits. Julie lost her belt. Turned on her front, the knife pushed between flesh and a waistband, sawing and cutting, the knife passed her ass, into the trouser leg and only finished when the entire one side of her trousers fell away. Julie's army supplied underwear was no match for the knife. Then she was lifted and thrown into the circle. Except for a helmet, a pair of boots and one trouser legging, Julie's soft, shapely body was naked.

 

Gripping tightly to the bed sheets, Paula's head tilted upward, her long back arched and toe's curled at the onslaught between her widely splayed legs, at the blitzkrieg on her pussy, surrendered and mercilessly pounded by Reg's energetic, never tiring tongue.

As soon as they had entered the room, much to Paula's delight, Reg had lit some candles. She thought that fifteen was a bit excessive and that it lit up the room just that little too much, but appreciated the romantic gesture. Then locked in a loving kiss, he slipped that white shirt from her shoulders, lay her gently on the bed and after a little shuffling, a little manoeuvring, so that she was really quite close to the wall with a fair amount of space on the other side, he had kissed and nibbled every inch of her body from her forehead to her toes.

Paula was in Reg heaven.

On the way back up, it seemed he became fascinated by all those silver rings and lingering, he pushed the tips of his fingers through each one and pulled, opening her pussy, separating already juiced and shiny lips, displaying a deep valley of pinkening flesh that led to a cavernous gorge at one end and a soft, fleshy, ring-adorned umbrella, covering a tiny semi-pink nub. That feeling of forced separateness, that tug on the most tender of all flesh caused her to grunt, move her hips and push that shaven clam even closer to his face.

Studying every line, every curve, Reg pulled harder, stretching skin, pulling flesh until so taught, Paula, biting her lower lip in pain was sure that something would not last. Something surely would snap or tear, but she met the pain with only a softly murmured groan. Paula liked pain.

He waited. He held those soft folds of flesh incredibly taught, so stretched. Second after second ticked by. For minute after minute, he held those rings apart as far as he could. He knew that it must surely hurt. He knew that Paula must have been in severe pain, but even when he asked if it was too much, she had gasped out a no, even though to most it would have been a clear yes.

Reg watched her face, enjoying his control, blowing gently on that open and exposed clam, taking note that every exhaled breath caused Paula to shudder and groan and every prolonged blow of air caused more and more clear, translucent juice to materialise, form and slowly cascade downward toward a tiny brown hole, not yet used, but definitely on tonight's to do list.

 

Obeying their orders, Wright and Fairweather put on their nightshirts and ventured into the dormitory section of the hut. As expected, all was quiet, maybe too quiet.

'All clear!' Wright whispered back into Dobson's quarters.

Hauling Anderson away from the wall was more difficult than she thought it would be. At first Anderson was reluctant to move and then, unable to withstand Dobson's strength, had trouble standing.

'Hold your hands together behind your back!'

Anderson's head spun. She felt dizzy, disoriented, but complied, barely aware of the rope tightening around her wrists.

'We're just going for a little walk!'

Fingers groped and prodded at Anderson's snatch, pulling at the dildo until it slipped out. 'You won't need that!'

Behind her mask, Anderson whimpered. She needed it and now felt so empty.

Outside, the night air and steady, slight drizzle smashed into Anderson's body, suddenly making her shiver, suddenly making her feel incredibly naked. Naked was okay. If there was one thing that Anderson enjoyed, it was the feeling of nakedness, of total exposure and getting off on watching other people wash their eyes over her taunting flesh, but Anderson couldn't see who was looking at her. Not seeing made her feel vulnerable. 'Where are they taking me?'

The wooden steps beneath her feet felt cold and a little slimy after a sudden, but brief downpour. The grass felt even colder, certainly more wet.

She had no idea that she was being led to the rear of the hut, where it was darker, out of sight from any other hut and had no idea that the five remaining new Army recruits had been instructed to remain quiet, to not make any sound whatsoever. Stealth and surprise were the prerequisites for any victory.

 

The carriage almost emptied as the train waited at the station, including the man who had witnessed her wet dream. A few got on, not many. There were so many empty seats that Paula was quite agitated when the seat to her side and both in front of her were filled with three of the biggest, most muscular men she had ever seen. Their presence was very unnerving. All of them wore boots - big boots. All of them looked as if they had at one time or another had their noses broken and all of them had almost no hair. Paula had seen skinheads before and these three fitted the bill, but they were at least ten-years older than her and seemed a bit old to be in a gang. Nonetheless, Paula felt dwarfed by their physical presence and very uneasy about their constant stares.

Paula stood up to find another seat.

Gulping hard, the tiny African-West Indian girl from Plymouth who was only one day passed her nineteenth birthday, froze on the spot. A long, extremely thick leg bared her way. She turned, responding to a small and surprisingly gentle tug on her right hand.

'He wants you to sit down!'

Summoning every ounce of strength and to date, much eluded courage, Paula squealed in response.

'I want to go somewhere else!'

'I don't think you quite understand!' The man, with a boxer's nose, no hair and the deepest, sexiest eyes Paula had ever seen, whispered. 'The Duke has decided that he wants you to stay and that means you will stay because refusal is not an option! You will absolutely do as you are told!'

Paula glared at the man who had sat in front of her. There was malice in his face. His steely eyes were almost black and she couldn't read them. There was no hint of a smile or that this was a joke. He raised a single finger at her.

'The Duke says that if you do not obey then he will personally throw you off the train!'

Full African lips separated in disbelief as both knees buckled at the same time. Paula found herself sat on the very edge of her seat, petrified and unable to look at any of them in the face.

'Don't hurt me!' She begged.

In the corner of her eye, she saw the man referred to as 'The Duke' wave a dismissive finger. It felt stupid. Paula decided that he was mute and instantly turned to the man with blue eyes for translation.

'He wants you to sit back in the seat and relax! As long as you obey then no one will be hurt!'

Daddy's words of invaluable advice this morning came flooding back.

'If someone looks as if they are going to attack you - scream your head off!'

Paula lowered her head in defeat. She was just too afraid to scream.

In a public place, with others around her, Paula felt captured, snared in a net of threats, some subtle, some blatant. She thought her heart would explode as the train pulled out of the station. Now there was no escape, only large boots, large hands and semi-snarling stares that commanded obedience.

Another finger waved.

The man with blue eyes leaned toward her and whispered.

'He wants you to lift up your skirt and open your legs!'

Horrified, Paula spun in her seat to face the whisperer, but when she made eye contact, she could see that there was no compassion there, that if there was anyone in this world that could save her, it wasn't him. She glanced at the third man who had remained quiet. His grin said that he was in total control.

The Duke leaned forward, making Paula jump.

'He is losing his patience! And! He is a man of his word! If I were you, I would do as he says!'

Paula wanted to choke. 'A man of his word? Do as he says? He hasn't said anything!'

Looking behind, the carriage was mostly empty. She did notice a young girl, white, very petite and about her age. The girl stared at her. Compassion, concern covered her face, but clearly, she was too afraid to do or say anything.

With nowhere to go, no one to help and incapable of resistance, a lonely tear fell down Paula's cheek. It made no difference to the three skinheads resolve. The Dukes stare looked menacing. If the man who didn't speak was Reg, he would have merely suggested that it would be a good idea if she flashed at him and she would, happily parting her legs for him to see her pussy on a train, but this?

'This is your last chance!'

A sharp intake of breath reminded Paula that she had stopped breathing. She heard a slight whimpering sound and realised it came from herself. Trembling knees began to separate.

Another wave of a finger and she was invited to lower herself down the seat and lift the skirt up higher. Paula found herself with her backside hanging over the edge of the seat, legs having to work hard to keep herself up, a skirt hitched up to her belly button and that satin yellow G-string that fully displayed every line and every contour of her pussy on unhindered show. Rarely could there have been a better camel-toe on display. She knew that the very centre of cover had turned golden-brown from her juices.

Knees shook from absolute humiliation as three skinheads ogled at the space between long and naked legs.

The Duke leaned back in his seat and nodded.

'The Duke likes you!'

Obviously, Paula had saved herself from being thrown off the train and as a result thought that her torture would now end. She had no idea that it had only just begun.

'He wants you to remove your knickers!'

An eruption of butterflies made her feel two inches tall.

'Please!' Paula spurted in a hushed and desperate whimper.

'No one refuses the Duke! No is not an option!'

Two thumbs hooked into the side of the G-string and slowly, the only piece of flimsy cover was peeled away from her pussy and pushed toward her knees. Paula watched the Duke feast his eyes on folds of flesh, still puffy and still sore from this morning and the previous night.

The man with blue eyes bent toward her and whispered.

'Pull up your shirt so we can see your tits!'