Author Topic: Revolutionary Rape  (Read 3827 times)

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March 24, 2018, 12:34:39 PM

Offline Alastor82

Jennifer crouched, the balls of her bare feet rigid against the wood-plank floor. And stifled a scream. “Please don’t let them come in here,” the slim 41-year-old whispered under her breath, her toned chest rising and falling with fast, anxious breaths underneath her blue one-piece bathing suit. “Please please please please please…”

“Heellp! Please! Somebody, help!” the poor young 30-year-old blonde outside screamed helplessly. Each frightened peal sending shivers down Jennifer’s spine. More sounds reached Jenn’s ears: hands smacking flesh, and a half-dozen cruel men’s voices hooting and hollering.

Jenn lay back against the tiled wall of the sauna where she was hiding. Clenching her eyelids shut tightly, not daring her brown eyes to look up through the sauna door’s window. She knew she wouldn’t like what she would see.

Such a nice gal, too, she thought to herself. An American. What was her name? Alena. That’s right. Soft-spoken art teacher who was here with her federal-government husband, John. For the same global-development conference that Canadian pharmaceutical marketing specialist Jenn was here for—a conference that was supposed to happen tonight, here in the lobby of the Hotel Kirikou in downtown Kinshasa, Congo.

Clearly, there would be no conference tonight. There had been a change of plans… in the form of a battalion of Revolutionary Justice Front militants storming the hotel lobby and taking the whole building hostage. Five of whom were busily groping and railing poor Alena at this very moment.

Yes, Congo had a history of rebel groups causing mayhem. But the government had given the conference planners a long list of assurances that the violence was under control. And that none of it was happening anywhere near big cities like Kinshasa. Promises that meant nothing now.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. Jenn was supposed to be getting dressed and gathering her notes for a keynote presentation tonight on communicable diseases. Not crouching in the dark, hoping against hope that bad men wouldn’t seize her and gang-rape her.

The sauna’s waves of heat rolled over the smooth skin of Jenn’s firm, tanned arms, legs, and back. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and dampened her primly cut shoulder-length brown hair. But she barely noticed it as she listened with growing nausea to Alena’s tortured sobs and whimpering intermingled with testosterone-driven shouts of the men who’d set upon her.

You’re okay. You’re in control. Jenn said to herself, over and over. You’re strong. You solve problems. You face challenges.

She was a strong woman, for sure. She’d navigated grad school, seen her way through a very demanding first three years on the job and risen up to the level of marketing director. All while finding the world’s best husband, Dave, and bringing two wonderful kids into this world. She was a capable, smart, tough woman who took care of herself and was used to stressful situations and high pressure.

But not stress and pressure like this. Nothing had prepared her for this.

Jenn breathed deliberate, slow breaths and tried to think of happier things. Imagined herself sipping a rum and Coke on a beach veranda with Dave.

“Oh, God, Dave,” she gasped. Dave was out there by the pool when the militants had burst in through the door. Was he okay? Did they hurt him? Did they kill—no, don’t even go there, she thought, flinching.
But she didn’t have long to find out.

The door flew open. “Heyyy. Lookey lookey,” said a fatigue-clad black man with a red bandana enwrapping his head and a rifle dangling from one arm as he peered inside, his hyper-alert eyes locking on Jenn.
Jenn’s breath caught in her throat. “No… no… no.”

“Somebody hiding,” the bandana-clad militant said, his lips parting in a wide grin. He stepped toward her.
Jenn shrank back. Her palms gripped the tiles behind her.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” said another male voice. Two more men, also carrying rifles, followed in behind him. Jenn looked up as Red-Bandana man and the two newcomers encircled her. His two compatriots were bandana-less but also clothed in green fatigues. One cracked his lips in a half-smile, exposing a chipped front tooth. The other dropped his rifle and peeled off his shirt, revealing a snarling monster’s face tattooed across his chest.

The two newcomers’ eyes fixed on her, bright and hazy, pupils dilated, some stimulant drug working its way through their veins. Jenn neither knew nor cared what. At this moment, she knew only one thing: Her goose was cooked.

“Heh heh. Is time to play,” said the tattooed guy. He pounced and grabbed one of Jenn’s ankles. He yanked, and she slid three feet from the wall toward him and his comrades.

“Noooo!” she screamed. She kicked with her free foot and smashed at his face. He batted it aside, unperturbed. Whatever he was on had clearly dulled his sensations of pain. Chipped-tooth reached and caught her swinging free foot. And the two men stretched and spread her legs in a wide V.

“Ugghh,” she groaned, and twisted her torso to and fro, flopping like a fish out of water. Her legs jerked and kicked, but the two men’s grasps of her ankles were rock-solid.

“Mmmmm. Hot lady. I like,” chuckled Red-Bandana. He took off his own shirt and crouched down behind her, scooping her writhing body up in his bare arms and clutching her to his chest. While his hands mashed into her breasts, fingertips gripping their soft, ample mounds; palms crushing them into the hardness of her ribs underneath. “Oww,” she yelped.
His tongue lapped at the tender, sweaty flesh at the base of her neck. She squealed with disgust.

“Aww. You no having fun?” Chipped-Tooth laughed. “We having fun.”

Chipped-tooth grabbed the bottom hem of her swimsuit and pulled. It rose a few inches up, giving his fingertips room to dive into the folds of her pussy. “Rrrrgh!” she howled, face reddening.

Red-bandana unsheathed a knife and flicked at her swimsuit’s shoulder straps. One sliced in two, then the other. The straps both dropped away, baring her shoulders to all three men’s eyes. Jenn writhed and fought on. All three men’s sets of arms held her fast, though. Her struggles only made her ripped swimsuit ride further down her torso. Her supple breasts plopped free, and the tattooed man released one of her legs just to throw himself into her and clasp her bared breasts in his hands. His fingers probed at their juicy, fleshy slopes. And his groin collided with hers—and as he did, Jenn felt the bulbous ridge of his erection through his pants. 

Chipped-tooth’s hand clutching the bottom hem of Jenn’s swimsuit flew up, and the fabric ripped wide open, unveiling her pussy fully to the two assailants whose arms now firmly enwrapped her legs. Tattooed Man took one free hand and undid his fly. A monstrously wide, veiny cock sprang from his pants. Jenn’s eyes gaped, and she wailed helplessly, knowing well what was about to happen next. Knowing that she had no power to stop it. But fighting and protesting all the same.
“Nooo, no, please, I don’t want this. I—ahhhh!”

In that split second, Tattooed Man’s groin crash-landed against hers. And his massive, vein-ridged rod swung and plunged balls-deep into her sex.

“Gahh!” she screamed, breath heaving in and out her chest as Tattooed Man dove to and fro, his cock thrashing forward and back within her. Jenn’s loins burned a fiery blaze. He was mauling her from inside. Each inward shove of his hips into hers pried her canal wide open to fit his intruding erection. Each dip of his hips back made her insides contract inward. Just to be shoved apart again. And again and again. “Gahhh….. ahhhh…. Owwww!” she grunted and groaned, eyes tightly shut and hands clenching so tight that her knuckles turned alabaster-white.
But her pain was only beginning.

As she writhed and flinched to Tattoed Man’s thrusts, Red-Bandana unfastened his own pants and unfurled his also-rising cock. It curled up and tapped at her tight, bared butt. His hands pushed her torso up, toward Tattooed Man’s chest. Tattoed Man wrapped his arms around her and fell backward, his backside smacking the floor under him. Jenn rolled forward, her face crashing into his. Tattooed Man clasped a hand over the back of her head and pressed her lips into his as his tongue invaded her mouth in a sloppy wet kiss. “Ngg!” she screeched and shook her head, wresting his tongue loose. Tattooed Man clenched her hair and roughly pulled, making her wince with pain and lower her head. His tongue and lips returned to hers. While he pressed her sweating, shaking body into his and arched his hips up and down, his cock buried inside her and his trunk raising and lowering her hers with deep, full-body lunges. 

The pain didn’t stop. He was so big. And Jenn so did not want him inside her. Her body resisted the intruder, but the intruder was here to stay. Its full-length hardness roving and diving at will within her beaten-down vaginal walls, his muscled flesh pressing into hers.

Then Jenn flinched. A new intrusion. Three fingertips, which had to be from Red-Bandana. They’d found her ass cheeks and wormed their way inside. Red-Bandana’s fingertips found the crater of her sphincter and slipped into its depths. “God! Stop!” she yelped. He didn’t listen. His fingers left her ass and crept down to her the lowermost tip of her throbbing pussy. They touched her slit, felt it quivering from Tattooed Man’s continuous thrusts, and began to rub and stretch at its folds.

“Arrgh” she wailed, tears starting to blur her vision. The overwhelm of sensation between her legs was just too much. She dropped her body, going limp atop Tattooed Man as his hips rose up and down. The fingers at her pussy dove inside, and started to pull.

Jenn raised up her head with a start. “Wha-what are you doing?” she stammered.

Red-Bandana had no answer. Except to clutch his cock with the other hand, guide its pulsing head to her stuffed pussy, and poke at her slit. And with Tattooed Man’s big cock still deep inside it, Red-Bandana began to wriggle his own cock in through.

“Goddddammit!” she screamed.
 
Jenn was a mom. She’d given birth before, so she’d known the agony of a small body stretching her pussy to the breaking point. Here she was, feeling that agony anew. Except this was no baby being born. It two rapists’ cocks, penetrating and fucking her pussy together in one awful simultaneous onslaught.

--TO BE CONTINUED--

March 24, 2018, 04:33:47 PM
Reply #1

Offline Alastor82

Pt. 2

Alena was overwhelmed with cock. In the locker room on the other side of the sauna door, her dainty little 5-foot-3 body was shaking from the exertions of the hefty, hulking 6-foot-tall mass of militant muscle laying on his back underneath her, with her prim little legs wrapped tightly around his stocky hips and his eight-inch elephant trunk of a cock punching deep into her sex. He bucked his hips in a rhythmic but brusque up-and-down motion, making the lithe, fully nude blonde sway and toss her head up and down in tune to his humps.

“Ah… ahh.. ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah”—soft moans fluttered from her lips, first slow and drawn out and then rising in speed and pitch as he picked up his pace. Alena dug her fingers into his mat of chest hair and clutched onto it to keep balance, curling her pretty little feet in and around his muscly thighs as he flung her up and down with bronco-like ferocity.
“Ooohhh,” she gasped, sensation coursing up her spine. Jolts of pain, yes, but other, sweeter, softer feelings, too—her body was responding to her rapist’s body, and a warm, wet flood of arousal started began to trickle up her spine.

“Shit, brothas, she getting wet,” the bulky man beneath her guffawed. A ring of four or five other men closing in around him laughed and swung down their palms toward his in a round of high-fives.

Alena panted, exhaling heavily and closing her eyes, lowering her gaze. Knowing it was true. Her whole body tensed. A gushy, gooey orgasmic pleasure was welling up in her loins, and her mind was powerless to hold it back.

“Oh my Go—” she exclaimed, words cut short as a second thick cock from a bearded, shaggier-haired militant rammed in between her lips. Raw, salty taste of cock-flesh smothered her soft tongue, which involuntarily enwrapped the bearded man’s member, making him throw back his head and chuckle with pleasure as he held her head in place with his hands, savoring her mouth’s moist caress. There was no need for him to move his cock. Alena was doing all the moving for him—or rather, the militant fucking her was making her move, his continuous humps lifting her up and down and making her tongue and lips roll back and forth, back and forth, over the bearded man’s dick, coating it with her saliva and sending shivers of ecstasy through his haunches.

More hands clapped down on her flesh. Cupping the tender melons of her breasts. Stroking the curve of her spine. Taking her hands and winding her fingers around their cocks and making her stroke them as she was being throttled. “Mmmm!” she yelped through lips sealed around cock--another hand gripped one of her ass cheeks and gave it a rough squeeze. And then dipped a finger in through the crack of her ass. It entered her sphincter and wriggled its way in, bit by bit.
Alena’s body fell forward, burying her face in the bearded man’s right shoulder, and groaned. The sudden double penetration of her ass and pussy all at once a shock to her whole system. While the three other men’s fingertips traipsed all around her silky-smooth flesh, making all her limbs and trunk ripple with tickles, pinches, and deep rough rubs.

“Ooommmmm Gohhhhd,” she moaned frantically, mouth still stuffed with dick, rocking back and forth now, unwanted pleasure coursing all over her little body. Her pussy walls let loose a torrent of wet orgasm on the thrusting groin beneath her. She shuddered, hot involuntary passion racing through her. And a black, mounting terror: Where was John? Where were the police? The army? Would no one come to help her? Would no one rescue her from these bad men?

….

“Oh fucking God!” Jenn shrieked through sweaty lips. The two men’s cocks were damn near tearing her apart. She cringed, grinding her body desperately onto Tattooed Man’s sweaty torso while the hard weight of Red Bandana bore down on her from behind. Her labia burned with the strain, and miniscule tears seared bright-red flashes of sharp agony deep into her sex. Jenn felt small droplets of liquid drip between her legs and knew that it was blood.
Liquid was everywhere. All over her skin, from perspiration rolling down her back, her hair clinging in wet strands to her forehead while salty droplets dove into her eyes, stinging her and clouding her vision.

And more sweat and heat, from the two male bodies that were smothering hers, their hot breaths blowing across her skin and their sweaty limbs locking around her limbs as they fucked her. Then Chipped-Tooth rejoined the fray, stooping and giving her heaving bosom a full-tongued lick from the slope of her breasts to the base of her neck. His hands took hold of the remaining scraps of her torn swimsuit and tugged hard, rending it in half. The fabric fell away to the floor, and Jenn’s fully nude body, every square inch of its sweat-glistening skin, came into her three captors’ view.

Chipped-Tooth, quite pleased with what he saw, gripped her cushy bare breasts in both hands and smushed them around his steaming-hot cock. And began to hump, his dick a hard, long piston racing burning-hot between her squishy boobs. Its cockhead jabbed at her chin and lips, making her grimace and turn her face away with added disgust.

“Awwww, fuck yeah!” Red-Bandana wheezed as he drew back his hips and heave, hard, crashing into Jenn’s hips, making her go “Uhh!” with the blunt impact. He crashed into her again and again. And then one more time, leaving his cock buried balls-deep in her overstuffed slit as he let loose a flood of cum into her womb. He staggered back. His two buddies kept going, the drugs in their system denying them any quick ejaculation.

When all three of them and Jenn heard an outburst of male voices from outside. The sauna door flew open, and a young dredlocked militant ducked his head in and said, “Yo, dudes, bring the bitch out here! The general is here.”

Grudgingly, the two doped-up militants withdrew their cocks and shoved Jenn to the floor. Each one grabbed an arm or leg and lifted her up, dragging her through the threshold and tossing her onto the cooler tiles of the locker-room floor outside.

She collapsed, breathless, sweat and cum soaking her body, and curled up in a fetal position, wincing and sobbing.
Through teary eyes, she spotted five militants, one of whom held an exhausted and equally cum-soaked Alena in his lap.
Then she saw five more militants, all fully clothed. They’d obviously just arrived. Along with a sixth figure in their midst: A tall, lean black man sporting a red beret on his bald head and a silver chain lined with small metallic skulls around his neck.

“Where is the other prisoner?” the tall man asked.

“He here, General,” grunted a fifteenth male voice, coming up around the corner. Jenn heard pained hacking and coughing, and then a familiar voice yell, “Jenn!”

She looked, and her heart leaped to her throat. It was Dave, on his knees, being dragged over to the boot-clad feet of the man who was apparently their general. Blood ran down one side of Dave’s face, and bruises were welling up on his bare back. He’d had some rough treatment, too.

Dave took one look at his wife and jumped to his feet, his cheeks blazing red and his nostrils flaring. “What did you do to her? What did you do to my Jennifer!?” He took a running step toward Jenn—and the general swung a baton and cracked him on the back, bringing him back down to his knees.

“Did I say you could move?” the general sneered.

“Fuck you!” Dave spat. “Fuck you sick fucking bastar—” the baton swung again, this time nailing Dave in the face. Jenn heard bone crack and saw something tiny and white hit the floor, and knew Dave had just lost a tooth.

“No,” the general said. “We fuck her… we KILL you!”

The general hit him again, and Dave’s face slammed to the floor.

“Nooo! Please, leave him alone!” Jenn screeched, rising to her knees and holding out her hands in supplication.

The general waved a hand toward his men, and four of them closed ranks around Dave and started to punch and kick him with abandon. Dave curled up into a ball, but was helpless to fend off their blows. More blood splattered over the tiles, and more sounds of cracking bones reached Jenn’s ears.

“Pleease, please stop it, stop it. Daaaave!” Jenn wailed, but her three rapists gripped her limbs and held her in place.
The general walked over, stretched out a palm, and slapped her in the face. Then he snapped his fingers. And the men beating Dave stopped at once. Dave sucked in a raspy, pained lungful of air through bleeding lips and lay still. “Daaave,” Jenn sobbed.

The general returned to the battered Dave. Lifted up one leg and slammed it down on Dave’ skull. “Noooo!” Jenn wailed. The general brought his foot down on Dave three more times and then, once more, and they all heard a CRUNCH. The general paused. Jenn looked on, and saw dead eyes stare back, unblinking, from Dave’s motionless face. Her life partner, her best friend, her Dave, was dead. She covered her face with her hands and cried.

“You no back-fight us. You no back-talk us,” the general crowed. “This no your hotel no more. This our hotel. This Revolutionary Justice Front hotel!” He scanned the crowd of armed men and whimpering, weeping women and smiled. “Revolutionary Justice Front for the People.”

“RJF for the people!” the 15 militants in the room shouted back in unison, fists in the air, and broke into a chorus of “RJF! RJF! RJF! RJF!” Two or three of them raised their rifles and shot off rounds of bullets into the ceiling. Jenn and Alena covered their ears and looked at each other with tearful, pained eyes.


--TO BE CONTINUED--

March 24, 2018, 08:16:20 PM
Reply #2

Offline gscmar64

This has the making of one hell of a story!

March 25, 2018, 02:32:14 AM
Reply #3

Offline Alastor82

Pt. 3

Dead bodies can get erections, too. The phenomenon is known as “angel lust,” and it happens most often when the man suffers a violent death. A death like Dave’s. A few militants glanced down at his bloodied corpse and pointed, grinning and snickering: a tent-pole of a hard-on was poking straight up against the dead man’s swimming trunks at that very moment.

“Look at that shit!” said one militant.

The general looked down, nodded, and looked over to the crying Jenn. An evil smile flashed across his face. “I think your husband need some attention.”

Jenn stared, dumbfounded. “W-what?”

Two more militants slid Dave’s swimming trunks down his legs, unsheathing his dead erect cock to the open air. A wordless whimper sounded in Jenn’s throat. “N-n-no. You don’t mean… You… no!”

The men clutching her limbs dragged her over to Dave’s body. “Oh my God-NO!” she screamed. They slammed her face down into her dead husband’s groin. His erection jabbed at her lips, but she wrested her mouth free of it.

Then Chipped-Tooth ripped a hair dryer from a wall socket, curled its power cord in his palms, and looped it around Jenn’s neck. And pulled. Hard. “Eck-ck-ck-ck” she choked.

“Suck,” Chipped-Tooth hissed. “Or we make you a corpse, too.”

Jenn’s body shook with heavy sobs. “I.. cannn’t.”

Chipped-Tooth jerked the cord. Jenn’s head snapped back, her cheeks turning blue. Defeated, mewling, she opened her mouth and engulfed Dave’s cock in her lips. Her head bobbed up and down as she sobbed and whimpered into his lifeless groin, her lips rolling back and forth over his stiff cock-flesh.

“He he he. Look at the cocksucking slut,” the bearded man who’d raped Alena earlier called out.

The young dredlocked militant—the one who’d announced the general’s arrival earlier—crept over behind Jenn and plunged a finger in between her legs. He palmed her mound and slid his fingers into her throbbing pussy. “Ngggg!” she wailed into Dave’s groin, as the young male’s fingertips probed her sex.

The general watched the man saw his fingers back and forth, watched Jenn squirm against his teasing digits. He let a few minutes of this go by. Then he looked at his phone. “Okay, we regroup upstairs. And have more play with the bitch there. You wash her first. She smell like shit.”

Chipped-Tooth kicked Jenn in the side. She toppled over, still heaving with sobs. And four sets of hands picked her up by her arms and legs and carried her over to the swimming pool. She felt her body swing in the air once, twice, and then go flying. SPLASH! She plunged into the pool’s tepid depths.

She flung her head up out of the water, breathed in air, and looked around. The militants were lowering themselves into the water a few feet behind her. A few feet—she was free! Jenn threw her body forward and swam.

Jenn had been physically active her whole life. Her weekly regimens of alternately jogging, biking, or swimming throughout the year kept the 41-year-old in better tone than most of the 30-somethings she called coworkers. And in her high-school days, she’d swam competitively in the varsity league. Those swimming drills came back to her in that split-second and she worked her limbs, slicing through the water with every bit of strength left in her body. The pool water was a jet plane of coolness across her racing figure, as she cut through the pool, eyes dead-set on the ledge just 50, now 40, now 30 feet up ahead and…

“Fuck!” she screeched. A hand grabbed her ankle and swung her around. She fell headlong into the pool water, waves surging violently around her as more hands grabbed her arms and neck, pushing her into water, toward concrete below.
She slipped free, straining her neck toward the surface, then more hands grasped her hair and yanked her back down. Seconds were ticking by, and she was still submerged. “Blubbb” she yelped, water filling her mouth and nostrils, lungs contracting, throat constricting. Had to get air. Had to…

“Hnnnnh” she gasped. The hands clutching her hair lifted her out of the water just for a second, letting her breathe. Then dunked her again. Underwater again. Her chest felt weight amassing, suffocation setting in. She was lifted up again. Another gasp for air. Another dunk.

Her vision going dark. She felt her body dip forward as more hands lifted her legs and spread them wide. Through the building pressure in her lungs, she felt more hands grab and pinch between her legs, poking at her rectum, poking at her pussy lips, entering her anus and pussy all at once, stretching the folds of her flesh. She screeched, thrashing her legs in vain.

A few fingertips curled inside her and landed on her clit. Seizure-like twitching and writhing took over her lower body as electro-shocks of vaginal stimulation shot through her body from head to toe. And the weight on her lungs was crushing.
The corners of her vision went dark. Then everything went dark. As the relief of unconsciousness carried her away.



“Eeeeeeh! Stopppp! Fuck, stop!” Alena screamed. She wished she was unconscious. Instead, she was fully awake, feeling the locker room’s cold tiles pressing on her chest and thighs. Two militants had her pinned, face down on the floor, their strong hands clutching her arms and legs. While a third one jammed a dagger into her right calf. “Ahhhh!” the little woman cried.

The dagger cut a straight horizontal line across her calf. Then tapped one end of the line and curled around, making a semicircle. Then cut another adjoining line. Completing an “R.”

The dagger jammed into her again, two inches to the right. Cutting a new line that curved up at the bottom. Another cut. Two more inches to the right of that. This one was a straight line. The dagger made two more small vertical lines leading away from it.

“Whyyyy? Why are you doing this to me?” Alena mewled. The man holding the dagger ignored her and wiped the dagger down with a rag. Then wiped some of the spurting blood from her skin. He nodded, pleased with his handiwork. With the trio of fully-formed letters he’d just cut into her flesh:

R J F

Alena sniffled and whined, tears flowing down her cheeks. The man grasping her arms grinned down at her. “Yes, tha’s right. You RJF property now, bitch.”

--TO BE CONTINUED--

March 27, 2018, 08:05:47 PM
Reply #4

Offline Alastor82

Part 4

Jenn awoke to the feeling of blood rushing to her temples and tight bands constraining her ankles. “Nnnnh,” she groaned, opening her eyes. And everything was upside-down. She was upside down. Hoisted four or so feet in the air.

She looked around and saw a dimly lit room with chandeliers and tables where scattered groups of well-dressed men and women sat, cowering and whispering, some weeping while others just glanced about with wide, frightened eyes. This was an auditorium, she realized.

Her eyes flitted to the left, and a smashed TV camera came into view. Which made her look up. What she saw made her groan again. She was hanging by ropes from the smashed camera’s eight-foot-tall metallic crane, whose platform pointed to a stage with a podium. The very podium where she, at this moment, was supposed to be giving her presentation on global health. Instead, she wasn’t. She was hanging, naked, God-knows-how-many strangers’ eyes fixed upon her, awaiting more raping and abuse.

She turned her eyes back to the crowd. And there, at a table in the middle, sat a short, athletic young Asian man with close-cropped hair and haggard, red eyes. Not just any Asian man—it was John. Their eyes locked, and he mouthed a few silent words to her. She mouthed a few back. “Oh my God,” she muttered to herself. “How will we get out of this? Will we get out of this?”

The doors slammed. “People!” the general shouted out, arms stretched outward, glowering. He took to the stage, a dozen rifle-bearing fighters fanning out behind him.

“You know why we are here. The government know why we are here. We have made our demands. And we no leave and you no leave until the government grant them,” he said into the podium’s microphone. 

He descended the steps and neared Jenn. “Yoww!” she screeched, as he unsheathed his baton and slammed it into the small of her back.

“The government not hear us yet. So we now make more noise, and make them hear,” he yelled. He struck her again and again. She squealed and wailed, her pained cries reverberating across the room.

“Troops! You come. Time to make more pain,” he said less loudly, putting his baton away. The men sprinted down the stage and closed in around Jenn. She shut her eyes and crossed her arms over her bare breasts, all reflexively—more hands were reaching out to grab her, and there was no batting them away or shutting her eyes to them and what they were about to do to her.

….

“Who’s the Corgi? Who’s the cute widdle Corgi?” Melissa giggled, rubbing her nose with that of the little pup squirming in her outstretched lap. The 18-year-old human was over the moon with Dusty, the five-year-old Corgi that her mom picked up from the shelter. Her mom, who was now in Africa for some super-important world conference.

“Hmm. What’s Mom up to?” Melissa wondered. “What do you think, Dusty?”

Just then, her phone dinged. Dusty the Corgi just wagged his tail and licked Melissa’s nose. The girl giggled. “I wuv you,” she cooed, before putting the doggy down onto the linoleum floor and uncrossing her legs as she dropped her bare feet to the ground and rose up off the sofa. Her shoulder-length brown curls bounced, and her knee-length blue summer skirt swished, accentuating her pert, lean bottom and smooth young legs, as she skipped over to the table where her purse sat. She fished out her phone, and her eyes lit up.

“Facebook says Mom is ‘Live.’ Nice!” she said to Dusty. “Let’s go see!”

She opened the app…. And the blood drained from her face. She staggered back, mouth agape, a wordless gasp forming in her throat.

The screen showed a woman who was definitely her mom. But she wasn’t giving a speech. She was stark naked. Hanging, ropes around her ankles, from some metal thingamajig. And screaming. While a bunch of black men in military camouflage were reaching and pawing at her breasts, her legs, clamping and mashing her ass cheeks, or sticking their fingers into her pussy and ass.

“What—what—what is this?” Melissa stuttered, looking about the room in terror. Then looked back at the screen. One of the men had dropped his trousers. His bare ass was pointed at the camera, but Melissa could tell what he was doing: He was cramming his cock into Mom’s mouth and was rutting back and forth with all the fury an armed guerilla could muster.

Dusty whined, sensing that his human wasn’t happy. She wasn’t. She was curled up on the sofa, knees to her chest, mouth agape, desperately wanting to turn the phone off but knowing full well that she couldn’t. She could not will herself to look away.

Not even when another militant pushed the first one at her mouth away and stuck his own cock through her lips and took his place. Nor when a third guy raised up a rifle and stuck the barrel in between her legs. Its tip entered her pussy, and he jabbed it in and out. She twisted her body and wailed into the camera, spasming and flapping in vain against the ropes.

“Ahhhhh… ahhh… oh, God. Mommy!” Melissa mewled. Tears welling up. Heart pounding. Palms clutching her chest. Nausea surging in her tummy. And something else… maybe… curiosity? No, Melissa shook her head. She dared not go there. Where she was going right was now to the toilet. Sprinting, actually. Making ready to puke.



“Mmmmm!” Jenn cried out through lips pursed around another thick cock. The fourth that had smashed through her lips since she’d regained consciousness. Her hips bucked, a second or third rifle head ramming in through her lips and rummaging around inside her canal, battering at the walls of her flesh and making her insides singe and burn with its steely scraping and slashing.

The rifle left her pussy, its owners’ arms evidently tiring. Jenn sighed with relief, but just for a second—a hand clamped down on her pussy lips right after and dug its fingertips into her. Jenn felt the fingers wiggle inside her. Disgust made her quiver against his touches. But it was a welcome relief from sharp metal inside her. He twisted and dove, his flesh rubbing upon hers at various places, and Jenn cringed… her vaginal flesh was softening and warming to his rubs.

And within her, a trickle of fluids began to drip. As her abs tightened and her breaths quickened. Oh my God, Jenn
mewled, trembling more. She was starting to feel aroused. Here, before this whole crowd—a crowd who was supposed to hear her speak—she was getting wet and excited as a gang of rapists fingered her. Goddammit! She would have been crying hot tears of rage if she wasn’t shaking with fear for her life.

Just then… BLAM! A grenade exploded against the door, sending splinters of it flying in every direction. Rat-a-ta-tatts of assault-rifle fire sprayed umpteen directions. And a cloud of tear gas burst. Jenn’s eyes burned red and let loose enough tears to make the whole world go blurry. But through them she saw rows of camouflage-clad men rush in and open fire on the militants surrounding her. One by one, the men assaulting her fell down dead.

The captive civilians screamed and ducked under the tables as the surviving militants and these newcomers shot at each other. But the militants were clearly outnumbered.

“Attention! You are in the custody of the Armed Forces of the Congo! Lay down your weapons and put your hands in the air!” a voice bellowed into a megaphone.

A few of Jenn’s captives slunk back and dashed out of a rear doorway to the open air, disappearing from sight. Others fell to their knees and dropped their arms, accepting the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, thank God,” Jenn whispered to herself. She breathed a sigh of relief as three men in camouflage, emblems bearing the red-yellow-green flag of Congo pinned to their shirts, approached her through the wisps of smoke and proceeded to cut her down from the crane.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Jenn cried out, her heart rate returning to something normal. “You came for me. I’m safe.”

One of the three soldiers smirked. “Yeah… we came. We gonna do a whole lot of coming. Yes we are.”

Jenn blinked. What did he mean?

A second soldier whistled. “Sexy mama,” he said. “My kind of woman.” His compatriots chuckled.

A sudden unease struck Jenn. Something was not at all right.

“Boys?” the third one said. “To the closet. Now!”

The three men scooped her up in one swift, coordinated lunge and rushed her to a doorway at the back of the stage. The opened it, flung her to the floor inside, and threw her to the dark ground. She landed with an “oof” and a split-second later felt three sets of hands flip her onto her back and start clasping and mashing at the flesh of her thighs and breasts just as the militants had done. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God, she bawled. What kind of sick joke was this!?

“Get some,” one of the three said softly, chucking off his pants. He flung down to the floor and lined his erect dick up with her sex.

“Ohhhh, fucking God,” Jenn sobbed. Her arms fell passively to the ground, and she lay her head to the side and gave up fighting. Letting her breath go short for a second as his hot, hard cock dipped through her lips. Going numb as her lips
contracted around his rod as it plunged, hard and fast, into her canal and started to buck back and forth.

“Oh… God… oh God… Oh God… ohhhh fuck!” she cried out, as her legs involuntarily curled around his shirtless trunk. The hot fluids of unwanted arousal were coursing within her loins. She flung her head back as pained, excited gasps escaped her lips. “Ahhh…. Ahhhh…. Ahh ahhh ahhh ahhh ahh” she moaned, bucking and writhing as his hard body smacked and smacked into hers. And as his compatriots flung their own unclothed bodies against hers. One of them dipping his dick into her mouth. Her lips pursed around it as her tongue flicked and twirled on his member. The other straddled her body, between the other two men, and pressed her breasts around his own cock. Jenn felt him buck to and fro atop her, and she resigned herself to her second tit-fuck of the day.

Minutes passed. Jenn’s cries rose in volume and pitch as waves of unwanted orgasm burst within her. Splashes of male seed spewed out across her skin. And then….

The door flew open. “What in fuck is going on!?” a fourth voice bellowed.

A light switch flicked on, and Jenn and her three soldier rapists all shielded their eyes. They all looked, squinting, to the doorway and saw another camouflage-clad figure. This one with more medals pinned onto his shirt, a trimmed moustache etched into his dark black face, and a red beret adorning his head. No skulls or chains, though.

The three men rose to their feet, albeit naked, and saluted. This man was apparently their commander, the stunned Jenn realized.

“Sir!” “Sir! “Sir” all three shouted.

“What are you doing? What is she doing?” the commander yelled, frowning.

“We… er,” one of the men stuttered.

The commander took a few steps into the room and closed the door. His frown deepened. “She not from here, no? What you do with her? You rape her?”

Not one of the men replied.

The commander crouched down. His eyes met Jenn’s. “Where are you from?” he asked her, more softly.

“C-C-Canada,” she stammered.

The commander rose. His eyes bulging, cheeks puffed up. He was fuming. “Shit! You did this!?” he hollered at his men. “This bad shit! You get in trouble! I get in trouble!”

He paused. Then looked at Jenn again. “This will not leave this hotel,” he said.

Jenn shivered, her own eyes bulging back at his. “Please… No. I won’t tell anyone.”

The commander’s eyes were cold and steely. “No,” he said. “You won’t.”

Just then, Jenn saw the assault rifle with a pointy bayonet that he had strapped across his back. She saw him pry it from its sheath.

She saw him raise it into the air and crash-land it straight into her chest. The bayonet cracked ribs and ripped flesh.

“GAAAAHHH!” she screamed. He slammed it into her again. She heard bones crack as another wellspring of pain flashed across her chest.

Jenn flipped over and started a fast crawl toward the door. “FUUUUCCK!” she screamed—another bayonet fell down and ripped through one of her thighs. Another landed into her side. She felt more hot flares of pain and felt fluid flow out that she knew in a second to be blood. More bayonet-stabs came down on her sides and shoulders, and more blood spurted from her body. Jenn felt her strength drain away as rifle-butts crashed into her skin. She hauled herself forward. A few more inches. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Two or three rifle-butts punctured her legs. Jenn heard bones crack and felt hot flares of pain sear through her legs—her assailants had just broken both her thigh bones!

Must… get… out… she hauled herself closer, closer, closer to the light streaming from the open doorway. BAM! Another rifle-butt slammed into the back of her head. Jenn felt her head go moist with gushing blood. BAM! BAM! BAM!

The doorway was just inches away. Jenn perceived it. And willed herself to move toward it. But her limbs would not budge. Nor would the rest of her. Everything around her went blurry, then started to go black. Jenn was dying. She was dimly aware of it and aware that she had no choice in the matter. She lay her head down on the ground. BAM! BAM! BAM! Her skull cracked wide open, and her vision went dark. Went dark forever.



“Company! Hustle!” the commandant shouted.

A dozen men sprinted toward the array of six concrete barriers and leaped at the first one, grunting and clawing their way across it and making fast dashes toward the next.

“Faster, boys! Faster! You know wha’s waiting for you,” the commandant crowed. “A pretty, juicy white-girl pussy waiting for you.”

A few hundred yards away, Alena moaned and opened her eyes. Sunlight flared through the open window. She squinted. And felt hot, jungle air make beads of sweat form on her lily-white skin. She tried to move. “Unnnhnh,” she groaned. But movement was denied her. Chained cuffs on her arms and legs bound her to a bed. She could do nothing except look around. Take in the clay-stucco walls and the open-air window that let the hot, humid air sift over her naked little body.

Hours passed. She had time enough to recollect how she ended up here. One instant, she was being fucked by a multitude of men in a hot, sweaty locker room. Then, she was being loaded onto a truck and driven along a bumpy road. And then, she found herself here, on this bed, chained by all four limbs while black men in camouflaged fatigues did exercises outside.

“Mikembe! Mutombo! Dikembe! Olumje! Watsungay! You outperformed your fellow soldiers! You have earned a nice night with the little girl,” she heard the commandant proclaim.

She groaned. Again. Another night. All over again. The militants outside would be out there, outside that window, all day. Doing their drills. And those who performed their best, the five who did their best, would get the sweet reward of “drilling” her at the day’s end.

“YO!” Alena heard a man’s voice shout as the door flew open. Alena frowned and whimpered. But her vaginal lips were already going moist. Prepping her for the assault that her lithe little body was about to undergo.

“Fuck, yeah! Le’s get this shit poppin’,” she heard another man’s voice proclaim.

Alena shrank back into the mattress. Heart thudding. Belly tightening. Pussy lips, to her dismay, surging and tightening. The night was coming. And another battalion “morale boost” exercise was about to begin.

“Oh, fuck,” Alena whimpered, eyes turning toward the ceiling. As the group of five militants filing in through the door ripped off their clothes and made ready for their next assault.

March 28, 2018, 04:35:07 PM
Reply #5

Offline gscmar64

Nice how you end one while starting another!

May 18, 2018, 02:34:17 PM
Reply #6

Offline Alastor82

Part 5

“Nnnggh!” groaned Alena through gritted teeth. Reams of tightness shooting through her pelvis as the two soldiers named Mikembe and Olumje unlocked her cuffed ankles from their chains and grasped her ankles in their hands. Her bare torso bucked and jerked, putting up whatever feeble resistance it could to the five muscly male behemoths who’d enclosed themselves over her. Mikembe and Olumje kneeled on the mattress, their knees pinning her arms in place. Their rising, bulging cockheads smacking and swiping at her pouting lips and smooth white cheeks.

The two men clutching her legs stretched them back. Her knees strained, burned, as they yanked her legs taut, stretching them up and out until her toes nearly grazed her ears. Alena grunted at the harsh dual pull on her limbs, feeling like a circus contortionist in training.

At the foot of the bed, Mutombo stood and stroked his cock. Its girth surged and swelled in his hands, as he looked at the grimacing, quivering Alena with bright, ravenous eyes. “You know wha’s coming, girl. I know wha’s coming. My cock in your pussy is wha’s coming!” And he lunged. And with perfectly timed precision only an elite combat soldier could pull off, landed belly-first onto Alena and plunged his erection balls-deep into her sex.

“Yaaaaaow!” Alena howled. Her howls turned into “mmmphs!” as Mikembe’s hand clasped over her mouth. Beneath her, the mattress springs creaked. Mutombo’s body chugged back and forth, his hard-on straining and cramming her vaginal flesh as he pummeled her hips with his in a rapid, throbbing assault. The two men gripping her legs at last let them go, and they folded weakly over and around his neck. Her silky-smooth soles on the back of his neck as he leaned into her, pressing his weight into hers and digging his cock as far into her inner canal as it would go.

Alena would have screamed in protest, but Mikembe had thrown his own haunches up over her neck and buried his cock in her mouth. His hands gripped her long, straight cascades of golden-blonde hair for leverage as he jackhammered his rod lustily to and fro between her lips.

Alena felt her dainty figure seesaw up and down into the mattress from the thrust action assailing her hips and mouth all at once. And that wasn’t all—she felt shivers of tension all along her skin, from the three other soldiers--Dikembe, Watsungay, and Olumje—who had scooted back to the sides of the bed but were rubbing their hands all along the slopes of her breasts, the taut grooves of her toned tummy, and the round arcs of her shoulders, clasping and unclasping her flesh and kneading their fingertips into the milky whiteness of her skin. “Oooh” she breathed, open-mouthed, around Mikembe’s cock, shivers of nervous anticipation within her body blossoming into more waves of unwanted but unstoppable arousal. The full-body stroking, pounding, and fucking was working her nerves from her head to her feet, and no lingering shreds of her tattered self-esteem would suffice to hold the swelling orgasm within her loins back.

Mutombo’s groin was now humping into hers with quick, rhythmic smack-smack-smacks. “Mmmm,” she moaned. As her body bucked involuntarily into his, and her legs curled back reflexively, giving him deeper and fuller access to her canal. Her canal, where fluids were again starting to flow. The smacks of his skin against hers turned moist, turned sloshy, as her back arched and her passage began to tighten around the cock that was snaking about inside her.

“Mmm!” Mutombo grunted, smiling. “Little bitch is excited. She love the cock.”

Alena grimaced. Even as more moans of excitation escaped her lips. Just as Mikembe’s cock sprang up out of them and released a spray of hot cum across her face. She batted her eyes and flinched. Just as Watsungay swooped in and grasped the lumps of her lily-white breasts with both hands. “Yes,” Watsungay said, as he stroked her tit flesh, his cock hardening at her ragged, spastic breaths that sped up in time to his motions. “She loves the cock. Loves the RJF cock.”

He kissed her soiled lips. Then crowed, “Say ‘I love RJF.’”

Alena shook her head angrily, despite herself. “Fuck you,” she hissed.

Watsungay pinched one of her nipples, hard, making Alena yelp. “Say it!” he barked. “Say ‘I love the RJF cock.’”

Alena said nothing. Watsungay flicked out a knife and jabbed at her right breast, just quick and shallow enough to draw a dab of blood. “Ahh!” Alena yelled. “Okay! Okay! I love RJF! I love being FUCKED by RJF! Are you happy!?”

Watsungay picked up a key and unlocked her wrist shackles. “I thought you did,” he replied. Mutombo suddenly scooped her up off the bed, and rose to his feet, his cock still balls-deep inside her. Alena’s freed hands flung themselves around his shoulders and hung on tightly while he, standing, thrust his hips into her again and again, making her legs jump and twitch in mid-air against his back. Finally, he exhaled a loud breath and dove forward, downward, and just before he dropped Alena to the floor, he came hard and hosed her tummy with his white goo.

Watsungay’s hands clasped both her sides and flung her over onto her tummy, before pulling her hips up and into his. His cock dove in between her legs and slid into her sopping-wet, broken-in pussy. Alena groaned again as her pussy lips enclosed around the now-familiar feel of another invading soldier cock. Her hips dipped back, succumbing to the pull of Watsungay’s body, as her labia clamped around Watsungay’s rod and stroked it between its soggy, overwhelmed folds. Alena lowered her head, her blonde hair tumbling from her shoulders and sweeping the floor around her face. Then Dikembe grabbed her hair up and mashed her face into his groin. As his cock sprang in through her lips and he took an eager turn at fucking her mouth.

Minutes crawled by, Alena grunting, sweat trickling down her body, and Watsungay and Dikembe’s as the two soldiers ramrodded their cocks back and forth inside her. Then Watsungay roared and withdrew just in time for it to release another volley of semen splattering over her back. Dikembe plopped his cock from her mouth, shaking off the strands of her saliva that stretched from its skin to her gaping, gasping lips, and flipped her onto her back. He threw himself down on her chest and grabbed up her breasts, then mashed their pillowy melons around his throbbing cock as he proceeded to hump her tits. Olumje, meantime, raised up her right leg and plopped it against his shoulder, then curled her left around his buttocks as his cock rammed its way into her pussy.

All five men were hot with their exertions, and intoxicated with lust for the gasping, trembling blonde American in their grips. And worn out from a day of intense training maneuvers. So none noticed, in that split-second when Watsungay pulled out of Alena, that one of her hands, clawing at the floor around her, enclosed around a tiny metallic object. Nor did they see her deftly place that same small object underneath her tongue and keep it there until the five men had finished spilling their seed into her, placed her back in the bed, and re-fastened the metal cuffs over her ankles and wrists.

That object just happened to be a key.

May 18, 2018, 04:58:51 PM
Reply #7

Offline gscmar64

Oh yes let her escape only to be hunted down by a unit of rebels!

May 18, 2018, 05:17:05 PM
Reply #8

Offline Alastor82


@gscmar64: Oh, the Alena abuse is definitely gonna keep going.  :D

(And let me tell ya, if you could see the pics of the real Alena that inspired me to write this, I think you’d say she’s well worth it!)

May 18, 2018, 10:30:25 PM
Reply #9

Offline vile8r

One of the best gangrape scenes I've read in a LONG time! Loving this story, Alastor!

May 21, 2018, 01:46:35 PM
Reply #10

Offline Alastor82

Part 6

Alena lay still, muscles tense, the key resting under her head on the mattress. She watched through the window as the sun slowly set. Listening as the men’s voices faded and died down, the soldiers one by one retiring to their bunker for the night. At last, it was dusk, and the chirp of crickets was the only sound she could hear. Alena turned her head, and with the tip of her nose nudged the key toward her shackled right hand. She fingered it, turned the lock, and her hand rose up free. Alena uncuffed her left hand, her ankles, and sat herself up. She gingerly lowered her bare feet to the floor, stood up, and peeled away the bedsheet and enwrapped her nude, sore torso in its folds. Then she carefully tip-toed out of the room, out the miraculously unlocked door, and into the warm, humid night air outside.

“You can do this. You can do this,” she said to herself in her head. She spotted a lone soldier walking the grounds and ducked quickly behind a wall. He nonchalantly walked on by. Alena breathed a fast sigh of relief and kept moving. A bonfire glowed some hundred yards away, and two soldiers sat on a log, guffawing over who knows what. Maybe a woman. Maybe her. But their backs were turned, and they didn’t see her. Alena tiptoed faster. Up ahead, ferns clustered amid trees. And in the trees, all was darkness. Alena felt a lump in her throat and swallowed, hard. She was walking, nearly naked and utterly defenseless, into the dark of unknown African jungle at night.

What might be lying in wait for her in that jungle? Alena had no idea, and she knew it. But she knew too well what waited for her if she stayed in the camp. That was all the motivation she needed to stick one slender, exposed leg out and step one foot forward. Then another, and another. Then she ducked, closed her eyes, and skidded into the brush. Branches tugged at the sheets, prying it down her back. Thorns pricked at the smoothness of her back. She shuddered, cringed with each tiny prick, but kept moving onward. 
But one set of eyes was already on her. A few hundred feet back, behind a four-feet-high wall of rocks, Private Yakimbe sat, keeping guard over his side of the camp. He saw a figure creeping toward the ferns. His eyes narrowed. He knew it in an instant: It was her.
Alena heard a loud click and saw the bright orange light of a flare burst overhead. Then came the shouts, as two columns of soldiers charged into the trees around her. Alena bolted forward. Vines ripped at her sheet-wrap, and pebbles on the ground punctured her feet, but she was in a blind panic and barely felt any of it. Must run, must run, must get free; her whole reality collapsed into a singular, mad dash through the dark. Until—

“Gotcha!” a soldier hollered, wrapping his arms around her and tackling her to the ground.

“Noooo!” Alena hollered, kicking her legs in the air. “Get off me! Get off me!”

A rifle-butt swung down and clocked the side of her head. “Oww!” Alena yelped, doubling back. Three sets of hands clutched the remnants of the torn sheet around her body and yanked. The fabric fell away, leaving Alena utterly naked and again encircled by armed men.

“Ohh God,” she whimpered, laying on her side, trembling. She curled her bare legs to her chest and burying her head in her knees, as weak sobs erupted from her throat. The men would have none of it. One booted foot slammed into the small of her back, flipping Alena over onto her tummy. An open palm crashed down on her rump. SMACK! Then came another, and another. Alena twitched and yelped with each spank, but two more pairs of hands clasped her arms and held her in place, and she was helpless to ward off the spanking palms. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Ahhh! Please, please just stop!” she bawled.

“What in hell is this?” bellowed a voice behind them. All looked up. It was the commander.

“Sir!” one of the soldiers spanking Alena rose up and saluted. “The girl was trying to escape. We found her. We have her under control.”

“Good work, Private Olajuwon! Good work, all of you!” the commander replied, nodding. “Tonight, my men were a team. You will all get a reward.”

Alena sobbed harder, louder, as that brief glimmer of hope she’d nursed hours before left her for good. Olajuwon scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder, and carried her out of the woods and back to the camp.
But they didn’t take her back to her bed. Alena’s eyes widened as she looked, through the tangles of her blonde hair, as the hut that she’d been confined to came into view and faded from view as her captors walked on by. They kept walking until they stopped in an open field. Olajuwon flung Alena down into the grass. Alena hit the ground hard and slowly rose her head. A thick wooden column, at least a foot wide, stuck out of the ground and rose 10 feet up into the air. There was a similar column further down the field, and a horizontal ladder stretching from the one to the other. This was evidently where the troops did climbing exercises. Why did the commander have them bring her here?, Alena thought, puzzled.

“How the fuck did the girl escape?” another man with extra insignia on his shirt sleeves said to the commander. “And what do we do to keep her from escaping again? Nail her down?”

“Maybe so, lieutenant,” the commander replied, a cruel smile flickering on his lips. “Maybe so.”

Alena looked, her heart in her throat and thudding intensely, as the lieutenant whispered instructions to two of the regulars. The two saluted and jogged into camp. They returned minutes later, carrying hammers and an assortment of metallic spikes, each one six inches long or longer.

And more men. Dozens more. The entire camp—some 48 soldiers, plus the commander and his lieutenant—now surrounded the shivering, sobbing Alena.

“What—what are you going to—to do to me?” she stammered, looking up at the commander with wide, tear-filled eyes.
The commander reached back one hand and slapped her. Alena yelped. Then he grabbed her hair and jerked her face in toward his. His other hand gripped a pistol and rammed the barrel into her mouth.

“Stupid blonde bitch!” he yelled, his mouth just inches from her face. The gun barrel drifted right and left, in her mouth. Alena sobbed, cried wordless sounds of pain and fear, as she felt the cold steel move and scape along her palate. “I could kill you right now. Pull the fucking trigger and BOOM!”

Alena screamed.

“No, I will no kill you. I have better things I do to you,” he said.

He flung her down onto her back. The gun barrel left her lips. He jammed it in between her legs. Alena screamed again—the barrel’s round steel end now crashed through her pussy lips and lodged inside her sex! “Nggg…ngggh” Alena mewled. The steel now moved, slowly up, slowly down, pushing through the pink folds of her pussy, stuffing her passage within her. Alena’s toes clenched, and she gritted her teeth, as her vaginal canal flared and ached from this sudden intrusion of steel.

“You like that?” the commander crowed. “You like being raped by a gun? More fun than rape by a cock?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want,” Alena whimpered.

The gun pushed inside her deeper. Deeper. She felt small rips within her loins from its tip. Felt a trickle of thick fluid and knew that it was blood. Searing ripples of pain shot through her abdomen. “You hope my hand no slip,” the commander sneered. “You hope you lucky, hope I no make a mistake, pull the trigger, and…”

BLAM!

Alena screamed loud enough to break glass.

The scream died in her throat as she glanced at the dirt, where the bullet had landed. The commander laughed. The men around him laughed. Alena looked about her, expecting to see blood, but saw none. No, the commander hadn’t shot her. He was just fucking with her. Had pulled the gun out of her just in time to shoot a bullet into the dirt beside her and give her a damn near heart attack.

“Okay. We done. You no play with my gun no more. Men, nail her. Now.”

Alena’s eyes popped wide open. A mewl of terror crept from her lips. As the men who’d brought the hammers and spikes grabbed her arms and dragged her to the nearest of the two wooden columns.

“What’s going on? What are you do—oh, God, please, noooooo!” Alena screamed, in higher and higher pitches, as the men shoved her backside straight against the post, her butt at its base and her legs sprawled out in the dirt. They raised both her arms and stretched them over her head. They pressed both arms tight flat against the wood. Placed her palms flat, facing out, against the wood. Then two more men stepped in, picked up spikes, and picked up hammers.

“FUUUUUCKING GOD!” Alena howled. As two spikes sank through the middle of each of her palms. “GAAAH! AAHHHHH!” The hammers thudded, one by one, pushing the spikes in bit by bit, tearing through her palms’ flesh, fracturing bones, slicing blood vessels in two. Blood spurted like waterfalls from her palms and coursed down the wood. “UUUUUUUNGH!”

The spikes penetrated all the way through her palms and into the wood. The men hammered again and again, rattling her fractured hand bones and making more blood spill. At last, the spikes lodged as deep into the wood as they would go, the men lowered the hammers and awaited further orders.

“Very good,” the commander said. Then he eyed the whole 48-strong gathering. “Soldiers. Brothers. I am proud of all of you. You train to be a team. And tonight you were a team. And tonight, I reward you as a team.”

He pointed to the drained, worn-out Alena. “I do no know, but I am told that this woman sucks dick very nice, very sweet. We will all find out.”

The commander unzipped his fly and stepped toward Alena. “Noo, please, no more,” she whimpered. The commander ignored her as he grabbed both side of her head and heaved his hips into her face. His dick shot through her lips and crash-landed into the warm wetness of her tongue. The commander moved his hips side to side, grunting with pleasure as Alena’s mouth enclosed around his cock, as the roof of her mouth squeezed as his cock-head, as her quivering tongue lolled about at his cock’s underside, massaging its firm rod. “Hot damn, soldiers. A treat awaits you all,” he called out. He jerked faster and faster in her mouth. Alena groaned, her bare legs squirming in the dirt, as the commander’s hands forced her head to dip up and down on his rod. Minutes crawled by, and Alena gave up fighting and began to bob her head up and down his cock on her own. Then, suddenly, the commander lunged forward, punched his cock head into her throat, and hosed a gush of semen down her windpipe. He withdrew, she coughed and retched, spit and semen trickling from her lips.

She raised her eyes just in time to see the lieutenant unzip his trousers. And behind him, with a deepening pit of horror sinking through her chest, she watched as all 48 soldiers made a line behind the lieutenant. Some of them dipping their hands into their pants and stroking their members, the anticipation already making them cum.

“You remember this,” the commander whispered into her ear from behind her. “You remember this, the next time you think to run away.”

Alena mewled helplessly as the lieutenant clasped her hair in his hands and slammed her face into his groin. His hands gripping her hair held her in place as he humped her lips, his cock jabbing hard against her cheeks, her throat, and coursing all over her tongue. At length, he also came in her mouth and dropped his load down her throat.

Alena hacked, coughed again, and moved her jaw a bit. She groaned. Her mouth was getting sore. But she had no time to think on it before the next man in line stuck his cock in between her lips and began to face-fuck an orgasm from his cock. Then the next man. And the next.

And so it went on, for the next four hours. Men came in her throat, on her face, on her body. Cum splattered her face and her breasts, dripped down her belly. And still, more men stuck their cocks in her mouth and made her suck. Alena bobbed her head up and down one shaft, then another, and on an on. Her mouth burned with fatigue, her jaw muscles grew too tired to chew food, and by the 50th cock, she winced from a searing crick in her neck. But she had to keep working through the pains, keep pleasing and caressing the cock lodged in her mouth, until it spurted out its orgasm and she closed her lips around it to suck at it and pull its escaping fluids down her throat.

But they weren’t done. The commander was feeling generous and invited his men to second helpings. Of course, every one of them took it. Alena groaned, and winced with pain, as yet another set of hands grabbed her hair and another swelling rod forced its way into her mouth. And minutes later, another splash of cum erupted in her throat.

Alena passively dipped her head up and down and let her tongue rove and curl around one shaft after another. Time crawled by, but Alena was so weakened and beaten-down that she was no longer even aware of it. Until finally, men started to leave the gathering and return to their beds. The sun was just starting to rise. And in the field, her hands still nailed to the post, Alena felt its warmth on her face as she closed her eyes and also drifted off to sleep, utterly spent.

May 21, 2018, 02:56:17 PM
Reply #11

Online archon


May 21, 2018, 04:20:48 PM
Reply #12

Offline gscmar64

Well partial what i hope for. You forget to have everyone flood her pussy with at least a load each!
Still A great continuation!

May 21, 2018, 10:47:47 PM
Reply #13

Offline vile8r

Wow! Violent and intense! Very well-done!

June 03, 2018, 08:14:25 PM
Reply #14

Offline Alastor82

@gscmar64: I've definitely not forgotten about her sweet pussy. That'll get its due attention in the next chapter. Stay tuned. ;-)

June 09, 2018, 11:58:47 AM
Reply #15

Offline Alastor82

Part 7

Time passed, but Alena had no idea by how much. Only that she stayed there, chained to the bed, alone with her thoughts. Maybe two days, maybe more. Now and then some man would come to hand her some bread and a little whiskey. But no more men came in to rape her. Seemed like they were letting her heal.

Then she woke up to the sound of a running engine. And the clink of metal on metal—three soldiers were standing by the bed, and one of them was unlocking her chains. “Wake up. We go now.”

“Wh-where are we—”

“You no talk. You just go.”

She stepped out the hut, toward a grey pickup truck. The truck bed was open, and she shrugged and headed toward its open back. No sooner had she placed one bandaged hand on the surface, though, when a soldier swung a rifle butt and knocked her to the ground.
“Did we say climb in the truck!? No, I dinna think so.”

He and two compatriots tied a rope around the hitch at the back of the truck and noosed up the free end. Then the looped it over her neck and tightened it. “You walk. Don’t worry. Is not far,” one of them said.

He and eight other men climbed into the truck. Then the commander marched to the truck’s cabin and took the passenger seat. Another dozen jeeps and trucks of various sizes rolled up in a line behind them, and more men strode into them, while the rest of the troops assembled into lines around them and made ready to march. All 13 engines roared to life, and they, the men on foot, and the naked, leashed Alena all made their way out onto the open road.

Alena huffed, puffed, fast-walking over the dusty terrain. The entourage was driving slowly enough for her to walk, but just barely. And the rocky, hot road was murder on her poor little feet. She squinted at the overhead sun. “Where are we going?” she said to one of the men marching on her right.

“Mumfasa,” he said, his eyes fixed ahead. “A village. They’re with us.”

Alena frowned and looked ahead. An hour or so of this ordeal passed, and then a cluster of small houses and some cornfields rose up into view. “You see that?” the soldier said, pointing ahead. “Tha’s Mumfasa.”

The men surrounding her fanned out, and the entourage rolled into the village square. Throngs of locals amassed. Mostly men. Alena looked and saw a hundred sets of male eyes land on her. Saw smiles flicker on some of their lips. She tensed, ever so conscious of her nakedness.

The commander strode out, waved, and said a few words to the crowd as his men started unloading the trucks. Alena spotted two lanky teenage boys run up to the commander and shake his hand. Maybe 15 or 16 years old, Alena surmised. Her thoughts returned to her classrooms back home. They’re just as old as the kids I teach, she mused. She fought a sudden welling-up of tears.
The two boys pointed left, and a few more boys came toward them, pushing wheelbarrows full of medicines, clothes, and hygienic items—soap, even some razors and shaving cream.

Alena couldn’t make out their words. The soldier who’d spoken to her earlier could. “He say UN was here. Left supplies. We can take.”

The commander suddenly pointed to Alena. Then to the middle of the town square. Toward a well.

“You,” the commander said to Alena. “You are dirty. Kweisi and Nkunda”—he was pointing to the two teenage boys now—“going to wash you.”

Before Alena could mouth a word of protest, the two boys fetched a wide wooden trough, planted it next to the well, and filled it to the brim with water. Then they threw off their shirts and pants, and strode over, clad only in their boxers, and clutched Alena’s harms.
“She is all yours,” the commander said, smirking.

Kweisi and Nkunda flung Alena into the trough. “Hnnnh,” she gasped, flinging her head up out of the water. Just as Nkunda, looming behind her, reached and clasped his arms around her chest, clutching her to him. His hands scooped up the pert masses of her breasts, his fingertips burying themselves in their pillows of soft girl-flesh. He chuckled and kissed her neck.

Kweisi, meantime, clutched her right leg and raised it into the air with one hand. While his other, clutching a soapy rag, meandered up and down the curves of her thigh and calf. He did the same for the other leg. Alena shut her eyes, trying to shut out the waves of added humiliation washing over her. But damn, a bath was so, so needed. And really did feel good. She squirmed. As the washing rag glided past her thigh and worked between her legs.

Nkunda took up another rag and ran it up and down her back. Her shoulders. Alena flexed and unflexed her taut, slender trunk. The two boys’ rubbing hands was quite nice, she had to admit. She sighed softly.

Then she felt all four hands grasp her wrists and ankles. With one motion, they raised her up out of the water and dropped her onto a stretched-out beach towel next to the trough. Nkunda held her body in place, while Kweisi rummaged through a pile of UN goodies and found a razor and some shaving cream. He sprayed some cream in his hand and lathered up her left leg. Then grinning, he clutched her ankle and held her foot flat on the ground while working the razor up and down her creamed leg.

He moved onto her other leg. Clapping a hand over the knee, while he slid the razor along the contours of her calf. Thoroughly enjoying himself—Alena could tell.

Then his fingers slid down, brushing her inner thigh. Found the rim of her pussy. “What else we shave?” he said to Nkunda. Both boys snickered. As Kweisi rubbed some water over her pussy lips and sprayed on a lathering of cream.

“Nnngh,” Alena groaned. The razor was now combing her sex, clearing it, making it as smooth and bare as her silky-smooth calves and feet. But Kweisi wasn’t content to just shave it. No. Soon as he was finished, he chucked the razor aside and dipped a finger into her slit, pushed it in. “Noo, no,” Alena whimpered. Her legs curling up, toes clenching and unclenching. As the boy pulled the finger out, then added a finger and pushed both fingers in through her snatch. The fingertips rutted up and down, exploring and stretching at the folds of her sex. Rolled around, rubbing at the top and bottom of her vaginal walls, then back out, and in, and out, and in. Alena breathed in and out, faster, more loudly.

“Mmm, yeah,” Nkunda said into her ear. His fingertips began to pluck at her nipples. Twist and press them between his thumbs and pointer fingers. Alena’s body moved up and down atop the towel. The four-hand ministration making her restless. Making her body respond. Even if she didn’t at all want it to.

Nkunda ducked his head down between her legs. His tongue darted out. “Oh, God!” she whimpered. 

“Damn. I never tasted girl pussy before. Tastes good,” he said. He licked at her sex some more. His tongue pushed at the entrance and sank into its folds. The tip of his tongue flitted about, feeling the warmth inside her. Feeling a knob of firm flesh somewhere at the top of her inside passage, just under the lips. He didn’t know it, but he’d just found her clit.

“Ohhh,” she mewled. Her thighs starting to squirm. Her whole body tensing up. His tongue probed deeper, curled up and nudged at her clit some more. Alena’s butt lifted up off the towel, pushing her inner sex hard and deep into her assailant’s mouth.

“Shit, you like that, don’t you?” Kweisi said, looking up, laughing.

Nkunda got up and peeled off his boxers. “Shit, I don’t wanna play with that pussy. I wanna fuck it.”
He pushed Kweisi aside, lifted up Alena’s legs and spread them away from her, and lunged his hips forward. His cockhead landed on a wet, worked-up pussy. And with a little wriggling of his groin against hers and some guiding with one of his hands, he slipped it inside her.

His hips slammed into hers. “Oof,” she grunted. Then he withdrew, almost leaving her, and lunged fast and hard back in. Back and forth, with long, vigorous strokes, he fucked her pussy under the bright sun. His right arm cradling her right leg, his left leg cradling her left. He stretched his spine up straight and puffed out his chest while he worked his hips to and fro, swaying on his ankles and smashing his cock back and forth within her sex. Alena’s feet dipped, and her legs kicked and quivered in tune to his exertions.

“Nnnng, God,” she mewled. Her tummy tensing up. More unwanted arousal welling up within her loins.

Kweisi’s boxers fell off, and he stood there naked, stroking his own dick. Watching his friend hump and groan, while the tight little blonde bucked her hips and moaned sweet sounds of arousal underneath him. Her mouth lay open, unprotected. And he flung himself down and shoved his cock inside it. “Fuck, yeah,” he grunted, her tongue clapping at his cock and her lips sliding up and down its length while he moved it to and fro in her mouth’s warm wetness.

Nkunda lunged harder, grunting louder. Robust, full-body heaves into the breathless blonde. Her legs slid up to his shoulders, her toes curling firmly enough to make her soles go lily-white. Nkunda’s young cock wouldn’t last much longer, though. “Damn!” he yelled, and he spurted inside her.

“I gotta get me some,” Kweisi said, throwing himself down onto Alena. His tongue snaked over the side of her face, as he shimmied his groin against hers and worked his rod down into her pussy. Her labia reflexively clamped his shaft. And her legs, as if with a mind of their own, lifted up, giving him more room to move within her. He pounded her with fast, jerky motions of his hips. “Mmmmmm!” she exclaimed, wetness coursing from her depths. Within a minute, she came, and a wave of her orgasm surged and splashed over his dick.

But they weren’t done. No sooner had Kweisi picked himself up and dusted himself off when his eyes met 13 other young boys’ eyes. Their outdoor sex show had gotten itself an audience. Some of them had already whipped out their cocks, and they were as firm as flagpoles.

“You boys want to play?” Nkunda said, scanning the lot of them. “Do it. Play.”

Alena winced. Closed her eyes tight. Feeling, but not seeing, the pair of hands that reached out and clenched her breasts. Feeling the other hands that gripped her wrists and pulled her up onto her back, while other hands stroked her body. Another pair of hands wormed their fingers into her ass crack, spread her supple as cheeks wide and bandied them about with little slaps. While four or five cocks all at once jabbed at her flesh. One of them, inevitably, finding its way into her pussy. Several boys grasped her shoulders and held her in place, on her hands and knees, while this lucky assailant plowed her pussy from behind. He came, other boys jerked off and came all over her body. And more cocks dove into her pussy lips, one by one, taking their turns getting themselves off, getting her off. The blonde American schoolteacher could do nothing, all the while, but wait there obediently on her hands and knees, while the youths of this village amused themselves at her expense.

June 10, 2018, 04:04:57 PM
Reply #16

Offline gscmar64

Got to love Rebels, they teach the young males what they really need to learn about life!