Bus Crash

The hard plastic cap was no thicker than Vlajko's thumb but with his cock already inside her there was no room for anything more inside of her. Vlajko wedged and pushed impatiently and barked at her to stop resisting. Aamu cried out when he made a hard, careless shove with the bottle and the cap pushed inside her with force. Vlajko didn't let up the pressure and the sharp bits on the cap dragged inside her, scratching cuts and sores inside her to give her even more pain for every tiny nugde of the bottle. Now the bottle neck was pressing against her tight little ring. She relaxed her backside to make the insertion easier but Vlajko wasn't going for easy. He kept shoving the bottle hard, dragging her sphincter inwards before it. Aamu reached behind her and tried to stay his hand but he ignored her and only used more force. Finally the bottle tore her wide and lunged deep into her scratched and chafed rectum. Aamu shrieked; tears came to her eyes and she wriggled her hips to ease the cruel pain. Vlajko hushed her and fucked the bottle harshly in and out until it was lodged deep up inside her alongside his cock.

With the girl full and sobbing with shock, fear and pain Vlajko started fucking her again, rougher this time, fast and hard. The pressure of her cunt filling up on each thrust pushed the bottle outwards but he held his thumb on it, always pushing it roughly back in. He thought of squirting some of the rubbing alcohol from the bottle to burn inside her, too bad he hadn't come to think of it before he had jammed the bottle all the way in.

Aamu was screaming out shrilly with his every thrust. He didn't have a hand to spare to shut her mouth so he tugged at the sheet until a corner came loose and forced it in her mouth. The gurgles that came out after that were as helpless and pathetic as she and he listened to her sobs with elation as he used her stretched holes hard.

Her fists clutched the sheets but she only spat the gag out and started begging him to stop when he stuck his feet through the iron grill of the bedstead and used the wall as leverage to ram into her with unprecedented force. When begging turned to howling he stuffed the corner of the sheet back into her mouth and shushed the suffering, thrashing girl. He tightened his grip on her again, holding her in the vice of his body, crushing her until she could hardly breathe.

He had never taken a woman like he was taking her now; aggressive, brutal, violent. His fantasies had run wild since he lay her on his sofa to rest, but what she now let him do was unreal. He half believed he was dreaming and soon he'd wake up and find himself alone again. But the scorching heat glowing in her surely was too vivid to be a mere figment of his imagination. Each of her desperate squeaks made him want to push her further and further to see how much it would take to really break her.

He fucked her until she was quiet and still, almost passed out. Only then he allowed himself to finally cum. Her battered, oozing cunt was gaping and he played with the thought of waking her up by shoving his fist inside her, but decided to leave that surprise for another time. Better to let her sleep it off.

Vlajko washed himself quickly outside and sat down on the dark porch feeling more alive than he had in years. He'd always felt that he should have died in that damned gorge with the rest of them but the reaper had forgotten about him and left him to carry on only half alive. And what good did any of it do, the war?

Close to the fighting, Vlajko hadn't gone out of his way to hurt innocent people, but to be honest he hadn't gone out of his way to help them either. He'd seen women packed into trucks and he knew where they were taken to and what awaited them but there was nothing he could have done about it without getting himself shot as a traitor. All he knew was that he would never forget the things he saw then, and that he never wanted to see anything like it again. He had never been able to look at people the same way after that for knowing what they were capable of disgusted him. And when his brother got shot and his young widow hung herself in the kitchen of the family farmhouse downhill, he'd had enough. It was easier to permanently move up the mountain to the old cottage close to the summer pastures and rent out the farmhouse for what pittance anyone could afford to pay. He did not wish to live there with the ghosts. He did not wish to live in the village among people.

All these years since the war he'd been half a ghost himself, alone up the mountain. Until caring for Aamu had changed that. Her laughter kindled life. And when he had moved inside her just now he felt he was tapping into a delirium of light and sounds, rays of burning sun that coursed through her and into him, taking away death and ghosts.

He stretched, sensing every cell, every muscle. His hands were bursting with power. He was strong again. A man again. Breathing. Pulsing. Surging. The night air and night sounds invigorated him.

In ten minutes Aamu straggled past him, walking slightly bowlegged to take her turn to wash, saying nothing, avoiding his eyes. He wondered if she had taken the bottle out or if it was still there inside her. Afterwards she went right back to bed and fell asleep.

Vlajko sat on the porch for an hour to see the sun come up. Then, ravenous, ate an early breakfast and put on the small TV. He sat down with a large carrot he'd pulled from his root cellar. He whittled a deep groove all around the thicker end. He tried to figure out how much of merciful training he'd allow the girl before fucking her tight, lovely ass. Not too much, he thought.

Aamu slept when he snuck back to her, his cock in semi erection despite the massive orgasm just a few hours ago. He turned her on her stomach and she woke up with a start. She thought he had come to rape her again and tried to escape him, useless as it was. He spread her legs roughly, revealing her pussy and her abused little asshole to his gaze. Pinning the terrified girl down with force he took the carrot from his pocket and placed the tip on her sore and swollen anus. Not waiting for her to calm down he started pushing the dry carrot in. It was thicker than the bottle had been and several inches longer. He'd left it unpeeled on purpose so the carrot juice couldn't work as a lubricant. He wanted the insertion to burn her.

Aamu hid her face in a pillow and mewed and kicked her feet pathetically. When the carrot thickened, her keening grew shrill but all her struggles couldn't make him stop. He was too heavy. Too strong. He pressed her down with all his weight, his hand between her shoulder blades, making it impossible for her to move.

Taking the carrot was agony. Hard and unyielding it poked her tender insides, dry and scratchy it chafed on the previous sores and opened up new ones as it dragged on her flesh. Beads of sweat appeared on her skin as she fought to endure the torture. Vlajko watched, mesmerized, as the beet slowly sank deeper and deeper and rejoiced in her suffering. Aamu begged him please but his mind was set. He didn't let up before he reached the groove and watched her sphincter retract to squeeze the carrot in snugly.

Aamu cramped hard, holding her belly, and with a sudden fondness Vlajko lay down beside her to spoon. He soothed her and shushed her, and massaged her tummy, knowing it would only serve to amp up the pain. He let his hand wander down her belly to her slit. His finger slipped easily into the slick groove of her cunt. His passion inflamed instantly as he mistook the still ample flow of his own semen from her for a primal sign of her readiness. And who knows, maybe it was her own wetness. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he saw her turn from dry to wet through the infliction of pain and abuse. It was a game to her, this teasing him and then fighting back, pretending to hate it, making him take her, force her, humiliate and hurt her. She struggled, screamed, panicked and fought and yet was wet as a spring stream each time he ran a finger down her crotch after it.

Ignoring the protestations and the hisses of pain from the girl Vlajko turned her roughly on her back and mounted her. Driving her butt into the mattress, forcing her to put all her -- and his -- weight on the alien object in her rectum, he fucked her savagely, ignoring her panicked screams, until he reached another orgasm. When he withdrew Aamu rolled on her side, shaking with sobs, and held her hands hovering protectively over her tormented butt. Vlajko shoved her hands aside and bent them behind her back. He took a length of thin rope and bound her wrists together. The string bit into her flesh and would chafe her painfully if she tried to wrench free. He pulled her to him until her buttocks were tightly cupped with his groin. He bent her leg up and pushed two fingers into her cunt. He spread his fingers, opening her up, making his semen leak out. He scooped some on his fingers and rubbed it on her lips. She turned her head away and spat but he fed her two more scoops and clamping her mouth shut made her keep it in. His other hand worked inside her and rubbed the slime on her hair, breasts and all over her crotch. "Nasty little mouse," he whispered. "You stink like a whole battalion just used you as their fuck toy." Every move radiated pain all over her backside when the carrot shifted but he kept pulling her closer and closer. "Good girl," were his last murmured words before the short night caught up with him and he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Aamu lay awake beside him until she needed to use the outhouse. She waited and waited for him to wake up but he just snored. When she couldn't wait any more she started squirming against the rope. Vlajko grabbed her by the throat and grunted. She knew that meant for her to be still, but she couldn't take it anymore. She begged to be allowed to use the outhouse but Vlajko took his time. Finally he reached for the carrot sticking out of her and Aamu sighed with relief that he was going to take it out, but he didn't. By bending the carrot this way and that and fucking her with it, he continued stretching her until her weeping was a constant ragged wail. Satisfied that she was learning her place he kissed her gently on the lips and let her go use the outhouse. He was waiting for her at the water tap on the porch, jerking his cock slowly, when she came to wash.

"Let me help you with that," he said and bent her over in front of him. He pushed the tip of his semi erect cock into her cunt and stood still, waiting. Her legs shook and he told her to stay still. In a minute Vlajko grunted in pleasure and started pissing inside her. Urine burned the sores and trears inside her and sploshed down her legs but Aamu said nothing. She clenched her jaws tight and grimaced, holding in the ragged moans of pain. She had accepted that she was his to do whatever he wanted to.

After pissing he pushed her on her knees and using his thumbs forced her mouth open as wide as it would go. Praising his good girl, he then shoved his cock in her mouth. Aamu wanted to vomit as she tasted urine on him and drops of piss oozed from him onto her tongue. It's just piss, she tried to think. It's just water and salt. It's not dirty. It won't make me sick. Don't anger him. Despite the ache in her stretched jaw she sucked and licked and fucked his cock with her mouth obediently until he left her alone. For a good ten minutes she just sat there on the floorboards of the porch, resting and recovering. Then she flushed her mouth again and again. Rubbing her teeth with toothpaste and rubbing her jaws to ease the pain. Her crotch was messy, slimy and smelly after she had stewed in his semen the whole night and she crouched in a big basin, scooping freezing water on herself, trying her best to get all of the piss and other mess out.

By all reason she should have hated him for abusing and degrading her, but it wasn't as simple as that. He made her wretched, dirty, small and disgusting -- he did all that and exulted in it. And yet he kept wanting her, touching her, caring for her, kept taking her into his arms, petting her hair and kissing it all better. If he could want her and care for her even after seeing her on the bed as a sweaty mess with shit-stained things sticking out of her asshole, if he could want her and care for her even after seeing her scouring her used and messy crotch while covered in his own piss and cum, if he could want her and care for her even after seeing her with her face streaked with puke from him fucking her face too hard, if he could see her when she was that disgusting and still wish to hold her, kiss her, teach her his language and the farm work and pet her, well, that only made her feel like he loved her that much stronger. All the pain and shame made his warm smiles and encouraging murmurs feel all the stronger. All the pain and shame made her cunt get that much wetter.

When she returned to the house from washing her pussy after being used as his urinal, Vlajko was ready with another carrot, even worse a monster than the one before but still a smaller plight than the huge man's cock.

He saw her cringe even before she had realized she was cringing and she knew she'd be punished for it. He walked her over to the bed and had her lie down on her stomach and spread her thighs. Aamu whimpered and shivered, begging with all but actual words to be spared.

"It's not this you should fear, mišiću," Vlajko murmured gently as he lined the carrot with her poor swollen asshole. Yet Aamu knew the gentle tone was a pretense, she could tell he was in a mood to hurt her again. He touched the tapered tip of the carrot to her asshole just enough to give her hope of a gentle insertion and then stabbed it in the first few inches with a firm and savage shove. Her scream made him shiver with pleasure and he made the second shove just as brutal. So he continued, trying to hurt her as much as possible, rejoicing when a trickle of blood appeared to reward his efforts.

"No, little mouse, what you should fear is the absence of these," he continued with glee as she screamed into the mattress. "In fact, if you ever give me a reason to punish you, I'm going to let your hole shrink back to its natural state and listen to you screech when I force my cock up your tiny, tight, bleeding hole and rip you open. Do you have any idea how much that would hurt? Do you have any idea what it would be like not to be able to hold your shit for the rest of your life?" He chuckled and emphasized his point by shoving the carrot forward with another sudden move so that Aamu shrieked out in pain yet again. "If you ever choose to disobey me, then trust me baby, I'll show you pain. This, mišiću, is me playing nice."

When he'd abused her ass the previous night despite all the pain he was sure she had enjoyed it from time to time. She really didn't look as if she was enjoying it now.

Chapter 7

Vlajko had decided early on that Aamu was going to take his cock up her ass, something his "lady" in town had flatly refused a man of his girth. Whores had to keep their tools tight to make a living but his little Aamu wouldn't be given the luxury of having a choice.

He kept a carrot inside her all the time, preparing and stretching her. Only when she was howling and cramping near uncontrollably on the bed did he remove the plug so she could dash into the outhouse and relieve herself. And the moment she returned to the house he ordered her in position and inserted a new carrot in her rectum, always thicker than the one before. Aamu cried out, bled and pleaded but Vlajko was adamant. He knew all this was necessary for it to be physically possible for him to enter her.

She'd learned the hard way not to touch her veggie butt plug herself. The brutality of his punishment cowed her so totally that she was too terrified of another round of getting his belt to her ass to even beg him anymore to have it taken out. Nursing the seeping, swollen welts after Vlajko was done with her, she swore to herself that if he ever dared beat her when it wasn't about sex she would make him pay. Or at least walk away. No matter that she still didn't know the way or how far she was from anywhere, she'd leave. She wouldn't let herself be treated like that. Not ever. Not when it wasn't about sex.

Yet when it was, his possessiveness and his passion to control and dominate her turned her on, dangerously much. He was strong and masculine and he wanted her. No one had taken her body to such lengths of agony and pleasure as he did -- not even in her fantasies. Consequently she didn't want to go back to her lonely life, buried in books, burning with desire and time and again facing a disappointment when a man she'd seduced failed to give her what she needed, failed to play the part she'd imagined. Vlajko never failed. His pain was such good pain, delirious, divine. His possessiveness so reassuring. His hands so rough and strong. His kisses violent and hungry. Again she burned for him. Coke, ecstasy, meth, heroin -- he was everything. And better.

He owned her pussy and her arse, her breasts and her mouth, her face and neck, her hands and arms and belly and legs and feet. Just not her. Her body was his but her will was still her own. To her it was perfectly logical but to anyone back home it would have looked merely abusive and sick. None of her loved ones would ever understand it. But it wasn't abuse. He saw her, he knew her. In a matter of weeks he had learned more about her than many back home had in a lifetime. It wasn't abuse, she kept telling herself. Wasn't. Wasn't. Wasn't. He was only doing what he'd found out turned her on. But the first time. That was a mystery. She had not consented to it and would never have consented. To this hour she hadn't verbally consented to anything he did to her. But he had seen that even though she had kept pushing them away her fantasies had been and still were screaming yes. But was that a coincidence or had he sensed it all along?

She had been scared and unwilling when he took her that first time but definitely, utterly and undeniably aroused. Or had she? The details of that first night were so blurry, so difficult to remember, mixing in with everything that came after. She had wanted him, that much was true. She remembered the days of shy glances and secret shivers, the days of trying to ignore the building needs and desires that stubbornly refused to go away. She couldn't claim it to be a rape, not when everything but her sense of propriety and reason had been screaming almost from day one to have him inside her. The question was, would he have raped her even if he hadn't found her body willing and responsive? If her body had screamed no as desperately as her mouth had, would he still have wrenched her thighs apart and stretched her insides until her dry cunt would have bled on his cock? Would such a no have stopped him, or was she in love with a rapist?

"Shit! She hissed out loud. The l-word. She'd used the fucking l-word. About a man she knew next to nothing about! For all she knew he'd been raping 20 scared, screaming and bleeding girls a day not 10 years ago.

She'd been in elementary school when the first refugee families had arrived to seek asylum but he, he would have been a prime candidate for people enlisting Serb men to go fight in Bosnia or Kosovo. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She didn't want to believe that of him, not the way he had been with her when she was sick. She hadn't forgotten his gentle hands and warm smiles when he'd been nursing her. Those weren't the actions of a vicious and cruel man. Those were the actions of a good man. That was what she had to trust. What ifs would drive her mad if she'd allow herself to start down that road. He could have raped her right then had he wanted to. But he hadn't. He had waited until she yearned for it. Yearned for him.