The Pit

It was dark and stuffy. She had squeezed into the narrow space as soon as she had heard the soldiers breaking open the front door. Not for the first time that week she had given thanks to God that her husband had had the foresight to dig the pit beneath the cellar floor. Just enough space for her to lie down in, flat on her back, and with the opening hidden by the wooden frame covered in the same carpet material the rest of the cellar floor had been.

"As soon as you hear anything, anything you understand, get your arse down into the cellar and into the pit." He had said in that gruff, severe voice he used whenever he wanted his orders to be followed.

"Don't worry," she had replied, "I'll be alright. Nothing's going to keep me up here in the house if there's danger around."

"Good." And he had ruffled her short hair as if she were a boy and smiled that smile of affection that made him look so young.

They had made love. It was his last night at home before he went to join his group in the mountains and the intensity of his passion had shaken her physically and mentally. In the four years they had been together she had become familiar with his moods. And she knew just how loving and careful he could be in his desire to please her before he pleased himself. But that night, his last, there had been something in his lovemaking that was different. It wasn't lovemaking. It was unbridled lust. He had moved her into positions she had rarely been placed before and as his cock had split her vagina wide open with its girth and he had begun a frantic thrusting into her body, she had gone with him. All the way. Recognising his need.

She had felt him, hard and insistent, smashing into her loins and she had placed her hands on his buttocks to pull them apart. Her fingers had played up and down his crack, stroking his anus, scratching gently at the tender inner skin of his arse cheeks. He had placed her legs on both his shoulders, raising himself much higher than she was, and had plunged down like a roller coaster into her wet and willing cunt.

Her breath had been forced from her lungs in long, loud grunts with each downward plunge and she had felt her hips almost creak with the force of his thrusts. Then as she had felt his climax approaching she had corkscrewed one of her index fingers into his anus, sliding it as deep as she could into his dry rectum. Her husband had groaned, grabbed her by the back of the head and had pulled her roughly against his chest, squashing her nose against his soft hairs. She had accepted the discomfort and with her finger still embedded deep in his arse and making small thrusting motions of its own, she had licked and nibbled on his small hard nipples.

He had groaned once again and then had flooded her with spurt after spurt of his sperm. She thought it would never end, and it seemed to fill her to capacity. But end it finally did and he had withdrawn, lay by her side and had embraced her gently.

One more time before he left they had made love, but the second time it was she who had taken the initiative. Bent double on her side she had suckled his testicles. Sucking gently on one delicate ball, then the other in turn. Her fingers once again had played a light staccato against his anus, and once again his rectum had been invaded by her probing index. He had caught his breath as she eased the digit further into him then he had begun a short, sharp panting. His penis had grown longer and thicker and she had followed it with her tongue until it had risen to its full length and width. It was then she had raised her head slightly and had taken the rock hard end into her mouth. She had felt no passion, no lust. Instead her feelings had been of overwhelming tenderness and love for the man she had held in her arms as she had pulled his sexual organ deep into the back of her throat and then, with a series of rapid swallowing motions had allowed it to enter her gullet.

She had crooned around the head of the penis, the sound vibrating against the sensitive skin, causing it to grow even more rigid in its soft, moist sheath. Then she had raised her head allowing the cock to slide back out over her tongue, over her lips until it had stood in front of her face. A totem to be worshipped. She had once again engulfed it with her mouth but this time she had begun slow sliding motions up and down its length. Then as the minutes had passed and his urgency had became more pronounced she had guessed correctly that it was time to enlarge her gullet and once again had taken him deep within her body. Even as she had swallowed the last of him his spunk had begun shooting directly down into the depths of her belly. She had held her breath letting the sperm slide down with no obstacle to stay its path. She had been determined to let him finish before she withdrew from his body. It had felt sticky and warm as it had descended towards its journey's end, but eventually, the continuous stream had become single spurts, then nothing. Still gently, not wishing to spoil the moment for her man, she had eased her head back up until her gullet and airways had been clear. Then she had allowed herself to draw a long rasping breath. She had smothered his taut, trembling stomach with a multitude of kisses from her swollen, saliva covered, lips. And eventually both of them had quietened and become still.

As he had recovered he had pulled her upwards until they had been lying eye to eye and, for the last time, they had slept.

In the darkness of the pit Marina remembered. And in remembering she could blot out the sound of boots, and shouts and furniture breaking upstairs. Then the cellar door opened with its customary creek. Footsteps came down the wooden stairs and for the first time Marina felt fear. She held her breath, trying to still her rapidly beating heart, as the boots walked around the cellar keeping close to the wall.

A voice cried from above, "Anything down there?"

"No nothing just a lot of old junk."

"Well come on up then. We've got a lot to do before nightfall."

"OK"

The footsteps walked directly across the cellar floor directly onto the carpet-covered panel covering her hiding place. She screwed her eyes tightly shut as the boots made a different sound as they walked over the wooden panel. The soldier paused and then lightly stamped his heels against the entrance to her secret hideaway.

'God, no please no…' she murmured to herself waiting for the inevitable. Then with a final small tap the boots moved on and the sound of them disappeared up the stairs.

Marina was fainting from a mixture of fear and relief and as the sounds outside in the village continued, she lay there in the dark and the heat, not daring to move, almost not daring to breathe. The noise went on for hours. Screams and pleas from terrified women, the sounds of gunfire from fusillades of shots, soldiers shouting, officers ordering and now and then the dull thud of mortar fire with its accompanying vibration reached Marina deep in her sanctuary.

She had forgotten the boots. At first she had lain there terrified that she had been discovered. But as time passed and nobody lifted the panel to expose her to the sunlight, she began to feel safer. She could only assume that the boots had paused by coincidence, and that the gently tap…tap on the cellar floor was made by a soldier deep in thought, and not testing the echo she, herself, had heard so loudly. Sometime later when she awoke from one of the many naps she had taken during those long hours she discovered that the sounds had vanished. She could hear nothing from outside but the faint crackling of flames as they consumed the last of the village buildings. She decided to take the risk and slowly, carefully, she pushed at the wooden panel until it lifted free and she could slide it over to one side.

It was night. And it was cold. Now that she was in the open she could smell the smoke and the burnt remains of whatever the fires had consumed. And the noise seemed almost deafening after so long listening to it through the sturdy floor of the room upstairs and the entrance to the pit. Unsteadily she rose to her feet and made her way to where the stairs were. Slowly, one by one she trod on the steps, until at last she was in the main body of her home. It seemed strange and at first, in the darkness, she couldn't quite see what the difference was. Then she realised that most of it had been destroyed and where once there had been four sturdy walls and a roof there was now only a ruined shell. She glanced upwards and saw the stars glistening far above her. Involuntarily she placed her knuckles against her lips and chewed them until the pain made her aware, and alert, once again.

There was no moon and she stumbled towards her front garden. Walking slowly to avoid the scattered bricks and masonry that threatened to bring her down, she edged her way forward until at last she felt grass beneath her feet.

"Stop there. Don't move." The voice was low; almost a whisper and the suddenness of it brought an involuntary shriek from her lips.

"And don't scream." The voice was insistent.

Automatically she did what was required and stood frozen in silent acquiescence.

"That's better."

In front of her a shadow, darker than the other shadows, detached itself from the large tree that stood in the garden and which had, miraculously, survived the carnage. The soldier came closer until he was standing close. He reached out an arm.

"Take my hand. Don't argue. You have no choice."

She did as he requested, realising that anything less would lead to her instant death, and as she stretched out her own arm towards him she felt his strong fingers grip her wrist. He led her out of the garden, away from the ruins of her house and down the road towards the outskirts of the village. He remained silent and she followed the same. She recognised what had been the priest's house as they passed and wondered, fleetingly, what had become of that kindly old man. But her thoughts did not linger long. They soon came to a track on the left that the soldier took and she found herself approaching the dark barn of her friend Anna's farm. The soldier paused in front of the wooden double door and knocked. Three…pause…two…pause then three more raps announced his presence and the door opened swiftly to allow them inside.

Blinking in the first light she had seen since that morning she looked around, examining her surroundings.

There were three of them, four counting the soldier who still gripped her wrist, and they looked at her with a mixture of lust and admiration.

"Well, well. This is better than I had hoped." The one who spoke had a three-day growth of beard and eyes red from lack of sleep. Marina knew what was about to happen and had already decided to do what these men wanted. There was no point in fighting them and if she could satisfy them in her own way then she may just get away with her life.

"Yes. I think you're right. We've got ourselves a nice little chicken here." The second man laughed as he spoke and took a swig from a bottle he had been holding.

"Right. You know why you're here. And we haven't time to try and be too friendly, but if you scratch our backs, so to speak, we'll scratch yours. Do you understand?"

Marina nodded. "I said do you understand. I want you to say it."

"Y…yes. I understand. I will please you in anyway I can. I just ask that afterwards you let me go."

"But of course. What's the point in keeping you around. You'll only be one more mouth to feed" and he laughed again.

"Right," said the soldier who had brought her to this place, "strip and go over to the straw."

There was no eroticism in the way she discarded her clothes. It was as if she was preparing for bed back in her warm home. She was soon naked and walked over to where the soft straw was scattered about the floor. She stood there waiting. Facing the men. She felt no shame or embarrassment. What was to be, was to be and nothing on earth or in heaven could stop it now.

She followed their commands as they spoke to her.

"Raise your arms above your head and turn around slowly."

"Grab your tits, squeeze them. Make them bounce. Pinch the nipples."

"Put your hands between your legs and rub yourself. Faster!"

"Put your fingers in your mouth and lick them clean."

On and on it went and she complied with each order. She bent forward and grabbing her buttocks in both hands pulled them apart to expose the small, wrinkled anus to their view. She stretched the lips of her labia apart showing the gaping cavern the movement had created. And she completed each act without a thought, without any emotion. She was just following a programme of events that would lead, eventually, to her release.

"Right, that's enough," the man with the exhausted eyes said, "lie down flat on your back and spread those lovely legs of yours."

Marina did as she was told and waited.

The first man approached and lay on top of her naked body, and with no preliminaries fed his hardening cock into her vagina. She was already wet from the acts the men had made her perform and so the stranger's penis slid easily into her body. She curled her long legs over his back and placed her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He began rutting in earnest and as his long strokes turned into short stabbing ones, Marina felt her own passion rise within her body. She felt no shame, knowing it was a physical thing. That love and tenderness had no part in it. She ground her hips against his and soon his beer-laden breath expelled directly into her face as his sperm flooded her womb. He lay there for a second, then rose to stand upright, studying her perspiring body, a look of puzzlement on his face.

The second man took his turn almost invisibly. The sex act was over in minutes and Marina felt nothing. No entrance, no ejaculation and no withdrawal. After it was over, if in fact it had actually begun, the man scrambled to his feet and went back to the other side of the barn.

It was the third man who gave Marina the climax that had been building up in her. And it was the fourth who gave her the second.

Afterwards for a while they left her alone and she took the opportunity to use some of the straw to wipe away the perspiration running down her naked flesh. She didn't mop the sperm running out of her vagina, preferring to let it expel itself completely from her body. But soon they called her across to where they were sitting on bales of hay and one by one she took their cocks into her mouth and sucked them to ejaculation. Her mouth and throat became coated with the white slime as it shot from their bodies into hers. One, she thought it was the one with the red eyes, whom she now thought of as their leader, wanted to deep throat her. But unlike the time a week before, (was it only a week?) when she had performed the act on her husband, on this man she found it impossible. Her gag reflex relentlessly pushed him out of her throat until he had to be satisfied with fucking her mouth like he would her cunt.

After the oral gangbang they gave her a bottle of beer which she guzzled down gratefully, clearing the stickiness from her mouth.

Then they made her get onto her hands and knees.

Her husband had buggered her on many an occasion and although she didn't mind the feeling of intrusion into her rectum she preferred not to do it. But this time she had no choice and the men sensing her reluctance began acting more boisterously. She rocked backwards and forwards as each cock widened her anus and thrust deep into her bowels. She was forced to work harder at their pleasure and her flesh once again became wet, not with gently perspiration, but with running streams of sweat that invaded every part of her body. Her short hair turned darker from the liquid and her eyes stung as it ran beneath her lids. The sounds in the barn became a mixture of moans, groans, gasps and the slapping of wet skin against wet skin. The men seemed to be able to keep going longer and she was buggered by all four of them for a very long time.

But eventually it was over and she was left gasping for air as the sperm oozed from her enlarged anus to run down the insides of her sore and bruised thighs. She drank another bottle of beer that was offered and gave a lop-sided smile at the four soldiers. They smiled back and raised their own bottles in salute. Whether it was a tribute to her sexual prowess or just a drunken salute in return she didn't know. And she didn't care. She knew what she had to do.

Over the next two hours one or another of them called upon her to carry out a specific sexual act. Two she hadn't tried before and she had to use all of her inner strength not to vomit as she was complying with the demand. But she kept her control. And she kept awake.

Soon she was the only one who wasn't snoring gently from an excess of alcohol and exhaustion, although she herself wanted nothing more than to rest her head on the straw and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. Instead she rose and dressed swiftly in the gathering light. She dared not delay as she had learned from the men's talk that they were to be relieved at dawn and she definitely did not want to be around when that happened.

Finally, ready to go, she went over to their equipment and unclipped four hand grenades. Walking swiftly to the barn door she placed them on the ground and extracted the pins. She had no knowledge of how to handle them and she had no time to carry out the customary count and so she just took out each pin as swiftly as she could and rolled each grenade towards the four sleeping soldiers. She was scared by the time she rolled the third one and so the fourth she threw wildly, trusting the first would explode before the men awoke from the noise of the fourth as it dropped onto the barn floor. Then she turned her back on the building and fled as fast as she could. She stumbled and tripped but kept her feet until, behind her, the first grenade exploded with a heavy warrump! She fell then, clasping her hands to her ears, shocked at the noise and the vibration of an explosion so near. Then the second grenade exploded forcing her into action. She staggered to her feet once again and ran and stumbled as fast as she could back to her house. Behind her, as she ran, she heard the other two grenades explode. Soon she reached her own front garden scrambled over the ruined wall of what had once been her kitchen and stumbled down the stairs to the cellar.

It only took a few seconds to lay on her back in the pit and cover herself over with the wooden panel and there, in the darkness and the heat once again, she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

She slept through the search made by the soldiers hunting the killers of the four dead men and she slept through the small retaliatory skirmish that took place later in the afternoon that drove the invaders away. The first thing she became aware of was the panel being lifted and placed on one side as her husband, his weapon still held tightly in his hand, looked anxiously down at his wife as she lay flat on her back in the pit.