For the Good of the Service Pt. 02

Pasha looked around with a start, Jacqui was beside her, but they weren't in the comfortable and familiar surroundings of their flat, there was considerably more mud and squalor for that. Both were dressed in full length skirts with starched aprons and hats with red crosses emblazoned across their chests. Something screamed overhead with a banshee howl to land half a mile away with a massive explosion, sending mud high into the grey sky. A salvo of a dozen more flew over to set up a steady drumbeat of noise.

A khaki clad arm grabbed each girl by their collars, and they found themselves thrust into a deep trench to land on a wooden walkway at the bottom, a squelch of muddy water squirting up to greet them.

"Stay down here if you don't want you pretty heads shot off ladies" their rescuer explained. "Stand up there and Jerry will send a packet to spoil your looks."

He went on, "Come on, I'll show you where you're headed" and turned to set off along the trench at a sharp pace.

With a confused look to each other the girls followed, flinching involuntarily with each explosion, the stench of badly washed bodies, cigarettes, gun smoke, and decay filled the air around them. To one side as they walked was a step up that allowed watchkeepers to look through periscopes over the edge of the trench, the other side were occasional dugouts with resting soldiers who sent a flurry of whistles and declarations of love as the girls hurried by.

The trench didn't run straight for more than ten yards at a time and as they rounded a sharp corner a voice called out to them. "Ladies, we've arrived." Their guide was standing just inside a dugout, beckoning them in. A tall man with gold braid on his hat and red tabs on his jacket sat at a desk in the middle of the room.

"Right, now you're here we can get going" he announced, the confused looks on the girls faces made him hesitate. "You do know why you're here? Do you? Hmmm?" he rolled his eyes. "Oh good lord, do you even speak english?" he addressed this to Pasha, speaking loudly and slowly. "I Said DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? Hm? YOU SPEAKEE ENGLISH?"

"Yes of course I speak English you muppet, I'm from fucking Leicester." She spat back at him.

"You'll keep a civil tongue in your head if you know what's good for you and remember how to speak to your betters. No, enough, " he held up a gloved hand as an angry retort came to Pasha's lips. "You two are here to escort an injured prisoner back to GHQ for trial and execution. Corporal Simmonds here will take you to him where you will assist Major Hardacre in declaring him fit for trial then with an armed escort you will take him away. Understand? Hm?"

Jacqui sarcastically asked, "Why bother with a trial, you've already scheduled the execution?" The tall officer seemed oblivious to sarcasm and responded, "Kings regulations, every guilty man is entitled to a fair trial. Now if you two nurses can be about your business we can be rid of this unpleasantness as soon as possible."

Jacqui bridled, "I'm not a nurse, I'm studying for my Doctorate" but he seemed not to comprehend the difference between "Doctor" and "Doctorate" and just waved her away, "Yes, yes, so you're a trainee doctor, you can still assist. Corporal Simmonds, take them away."

A shout of "Sir, yes Sir," followed by a stamped foot answered his call and they found themselves being hurried down the trench again until they reached a dugout with two heavily built soldiers standing outside, each had an armband with "REGT POL" embroidered on it and red peaks to their hats. Corporal Simmonds stood outside and indicated they should go in.

A harried looking Major was bent over a figure in the bed, Pasha gave a polite cough causing him to turn around and greet them. Ladies, glad you're here. Can you check the patient's heart rate and temperature then I can sign him over to GHQ"

Jacqui stood, transfixed. "Alan, what are you... How did... It's you isn't it?"

Major Hardacre looked at her in surprise, "How do you know my first name? Have we met?"

Jacqui gasped," Alan, it's me, it's Jacqui. What's going on?"

Hardacre gave her a stare, "It's true my wife is called Jacqueline, and at moments of intimacy I call her Jacqui, and you do bear a passing resemblance, but I'll not be party to your foolishness. Now check his pulse will you?"

Pasha stepped forward to take the man's wrist, he grabbed her with his other hand and gave a hiss, "So, you're here are you? Both of yer? Good, it's all working." She gave a little squeal and pulled her arm away, one of the burly Regimental Policemen ran in and gave the prisoner a sharp jab in the ribs, screaming "Stand down you piece of shite," then turned to Jacqui and apologised for letting him get familiar with her servant. Pasha gave a look that could freeze lava as Jacqui explained that she was in fact the higher qualified person, with an actual nursing degree whereas Jacqui had her first aid badge from when she was a Girl Guide, muttering "You racist prick" under her breath as she finished.

Pasha confirmed the pulse as sixty-two beats per minute, his temperature was spot on 98.6 and his blood pressure was a hundred and fifteen over seventy, so well within acceptable ranges.

"I knew it, you're malingering on top of everything else."

Major Hardacre shouted to the Regimental Policemen, "Corporal Lane, he's fit to be moved. Do your duty."

The two RPs came in and lifted the prisoner roughly out of the bed he was languishing in, he slipped on his unlaced boots and sauntered towards the door. Corporal Simmonds blocked his exit, his rifle held ready to use as a club rather than to shoot but it stopped him just the same. A squad of half a dozen armed soldiers were standing outside the dugout, the prisoner settled in the middle and the two Regimental Policemen took up positions at the front and rear of the group. The Doctor pointed out of the door, "Well go on girls. Follow them."

The mixed group made its way back along the wooden duck boards for what felt like a couple of miles, eventually reaching an area of relative peace from the incessant shelling. A set of steps led up and out onto a cratered field with a sunken road leading off towards a ruined village. A horse drawn wagon waited for them with four more armed soldiers standing alongside. Corporal Simmonds and his men handed the prisoner over, turned around and went back to the squalor of the frontline.

The girls and the prisoner were helped into the back, two of the soldiers joined them with the other two climbing up to the front. The Regimental Police jumped into the back as well, giving a call of "Move on" as they sat down.

The wagon had been moving for around twenty minutes, Jacqui and Pasha had their heads together and whispered desperately, "What the actual fuck is happening? Am I dreaming?"

The prisoner gave a sly laugh, "Oh no, girls. It's more than a dream." He reached over and pinched each of them, both squealed in discomfort, prompting one of the RPs to reach over and cuff him in the side of the head.

"You keep your stinking hands to yourself son." He admonished. The prisoner just laughed again, "Not long now mister. It's June nineteen fifteen, I've got ages yet. You however,"

The Policeman stood again and balled a fist, "Yeah, we'll see what you say with no bleedin' tee.."

They were sufficiently far from the front line that the sounds of artillery were a dull rumble so the rifle shot sounded loud enough to shock the girls and make most of the soldiers come to alert. Most but not all. The standing RP's head burst open like a ripe melon in a fountain of blood and brains before he could finish his threat.

The two girls screamed as the gore that used to be the soldier's head sprayed over them, staining their starched white aprons crimson. The Prisoner grabbed them both and threw them onto the floor of the wagon, joining them there and pulling the corpse on top as a rudimentary shield.

The four riflemen were staring outwards, searching for the sniper over the iron sights of their weapons, the second Regimental Policeman had his Webley revolver in his hand and jumped out of the rear of the cart.

A staccato burst from a machine gun cut him almost in two, falling shattered into the dusty track where his blood turned the ground black. Three more rifle shots rang out, seemingly from both sides of the road, taking one soldier in the throat, and another through the heart. The third bullet missed as the one shot in the throat collapsed into the footwell, gurgling wordlessly as his life seeped away.

One of the two remaining soldiers snapped off a shot back then a second and a third in quick succession, the empty cases bouncing off the seats, one landed on the back of Jacqui's hand, burning her and adding to her screams of panic and fear. He gave a shout of exultation, "Got one," but it was short lived.

The deep bark of the machine gun cut in again and the shooting soldier disintegrated as six.303 bullets sliced through his torso. Only one was left, cowering down trying to make himself as small as possible. The prisoner reached out to one of the dead soldiers and helped himself to the bayonet hanging from the dead man's belt. Standing over the whimpering boy who could not have been much beyond eighteen he smiled, but there was no kindness or humour in his face.

"Miss your mummy do yer, boy?" The soldier was almost catatonic with fear, the prisoner taunted him "I'll say hello when I fuck her up the arse." Then drove the bayonet through his neck, severing the spinal cord, leaving him wide eyed and terrified in death, as he had been in life.

A whistle split the now silent air. The prisoner gave a corresponding answer. Half a dozen scruffy, wild looking men appeared around the wagon, wearing a mixture of British, French and German uniforms. They looked up at the wagon, the prisoner reached down and dragged up the two terrified blood-stained girls and received a ragged cheer from the assembly.

A shove in their backs sent the two girls out of the back to land in a heap next to the leaking corpse of the RP, clinging to each other for support they tried to back away but found their way blocked by the wagon.

The newcomers loaded the dead bodies onto the wooden boards, including one of their own, poured a gallon of petrol over it and threw in a match. A 'Whoomph" sounded as the pyre went up, then the motley group headed away, towards the ruined village.

The former prisoner was in good spirits, "I knew you'd come for me, once I got word I'd have these two ter play with. We should make some good money out o' them once we've had our fun."

Pasha and Jacqui's hearts sank when they heard what lay in store, he walked alongside and explained. "See, when I get blown up and my picture gets saved I swore my revenge on Brigadier the Honourable bastard Lord Aubrey Fuckin' Hinshelwood and his descendants. You my girl," he poked Jacqui in the left breast, "Your great great grandmother was a kitchen maid at Hinshelwood Manor in eighteen ninety two, when Lord Aubrey-Hinshelwood was having his way with all the girls that worked there, when she fell pregnant he sent her away, she ended up in Exeter, about as far away from him as possible, and you," he poked Pasha's right breast, "Your great grandmother was his personal bedroom servant in Rawalpindi in twenty two, she never told her husband it was his Lordship's baby but I knew. It took me a lot of effort, pushing here and nudging there to get you two together and now here we all are."

With that they arrived at a bombed-out house, the roof was completely gone, none of the windows had any glass and the doors were all blasted off their hinges, but the ground floor was semi serviceable, the empty windows had thick blankets covering them, there was furniture of sorts and oil lamps around to give some light in the dingy interior.

The gang of misfits flopped down, a large and sweaty man appeared in the main room to announce food would be ready in thirty minutes and he was fucked if he was cooking next time, some other bastard could do it tomorrow.

One of the crew pointed at Jacqui and Pasha, "They can cook, when they aren't on their backs" which brought a chorus of agreement and laughter. One of them stood, saying "I'm going to try one of them. Which one though?" He made a show of looking at both girls, reached down and grabbed them both by the breasts then with a laugh he made his choice. "You're bigger, come with me."

Pasha found herself dragged into a side room, a metal bedframe with a stained mattress stood against the far wall, a shove had her bouncing on the squeaking springs. Holding her torso up on her elbows she lay back and watched as the unkempt man pointed at her.

"All that, off." It was not phrased as a request. Pasha felt her heart begin to beat faster, anticipation thrilled through her as she scrabbled at the unfamiliar fixings of her dress, hooks and eyes rather than zippers and buttons. He dropped his trousers, revealing a substantial penis surrounded by a wild patch of frizzy hair.

Without even a pretence at foreplay he mounted the bed and took up a position between Pasha's open legs. He took a moment to look at the smoothly waxed mound of her pussy, calling out through the open doorway, "You sure she's clean? Where's all her hair?"

Receiving assurances that disease was not a worry for him he lined the rigid head of his swollen cock up on her labia, drops of moisture showing along the length as she felt a wave of excitement at being taken so wantonly. He jerked his hips and sank full length into her warm interior. Pasha instinctively pushed her hips forward to meet him, giving a squeak of shock as he ground against her clit.

He shouted over his shoulder to his colleagues in the main room, "She' lovin' it, we're gonna make a fackin' fortune," a scramble of feet filled the air with thumping steps as four or five bodies rushed in to see what he meant. Rather than be shocked Pasha found the audience added to her arousal, she pushed up against her lover, squeezed hard on her own tits and panted hard with pleasure.

The last member of the audience turned back and pointed at Jacqui. "You, come on. You know what to do."

She did, or thought she did, and reached to her neck to start unbuttoning her blood-spattered uniform, dropping her blouse, skirt and underwear on a table then walked into the bedroom. She was correct in her assessment, "Good girl, now get on the bed next to 'er an' we'll all 've a try."

She slumped down beside her friend, "Hey Pasha, it's just a dream, right?" Her friend gasped "yes" as the first soldier started pounding harder, a grimace across his scarred and filthy features. "But who's dream is this?" she asked as he arched his back.

A fist flew in and smacked the soldier in the side. "Oi, pull out you dirty fucker, no one want's to have to stick their dick in your sloppy seconds." The force of the blow pushed him backwards, just as he erupted, spraying his seed across both sets of naked legs. A flurry of punches followed up as he was forced to wipe up his mess.

As two more soldiers lined up Pasha turned her head to face her companion, "I think it's yours, you dirty cow." Then shook as a second cock buried itself in her pussy. Jacqui laughed, then shuddered as she was swiftly taken in turn. "You wish. Aaaah, God." She shouted out as she shook under the pumping of a cock desperate for release.

The two girls lay on the ramshackle squeaking bed as each soldier took his turn, grinding away the fear and desperation of life in the trenches. When each one was satisfied the nameless prisoner they'd been escorting strode in. "Right, now you've all had yer fun get these two tarts cleaned up an' ready ter move aht. We eat in ten minutes an' get goin' in twenty."

Pasha and Jacqui were sore, aching and exhausted after servicing at least four horny soldiers each, but stumbled to their feet and dressed back in their blood splattered clothes before being handed an enamel plate of a sloppy stew. Shortly afterwards they were back out on the dusty road.

It was during the three-hour trek that Pasha and Jacqui started to wonder again if they were actually dreaming, the aches in their limbs, the pain in their pussies and the vivid stench of death, smoke and unwashed bodies was more real than any dream either girl had ever experienced.

Exhausted and sweaty they finally arrived at a large country house, too small to be a chateau but more than a simple farmhouse. The windows and shutters on the upper floor were shattered and had been replaced with sheets of rusty corrugated iron, the ground floor had a few shutters in pace but the repair product of choice seemed to be wooden planks nailed into position on the lower level.

A gentle golden glow came from inside the half open front door but that was as welcoming as things got. A rough hand shoved the two girls through the hallway into the kitchen where a wood fired range dominated the room.

A pile of cans and some vegetables filled one of the tables.

"First off, get food cooked fer a dozen of us, then we'll show yer where yer can work."

Jacqui gave Pasha a worried look, she didn't like the sound of working based on what had happened so far. The look she got back told her Pasha felt the same way.

They set to with the cans, most of which seemed to be corned beef and potatoes, which combined with some onions to produce a serviceable hash. Pasha didn't think it worth insisting on her vegetarian status, she wasn't convinced it was adream but equally it clearly wasn't reality. Confused she tried a small plate of the fried concoction.

One of the soldiers that had escorted them in came across.

"That was alright girls. If you c'n fuck as good as you cook we're gonna make a fortune. Nah. Come with me."

With a feeling of impending dread they rose and followed him up the wide staircase, on the first floor were a series of doors, two of which were open and showed sumptuous bedrooms inside.

"In there. Theres soap, water and towels. Clean up and get ready. There's clean women's clothes in the cupboard. Yer've got around half an hour."

Their feelings of dread were deepening but with no obvious escape they set to with the rudimentary bathing facilities, wiping away the sweat, blood and grime of the past day.

The walk in dressing room gave up a selection of elegant ball gowns and shoes, surprisingly both girls found something to fit that made them feel a bit better.

Almost on the dot of the promised half hour the door opened and their earlier escort called them out.

"Right. Stand there an' let 'm see yer."

In a daze of fear and confusion they stood at the door where a group of a dozen soldiers stood, gawping. A buzz of excitement went around the assembled troops, snaps of exclamation found the girl's ears.

"Blimey"

"You weren't lyin'"

"Fuck me, I'll 'ave sum o' that"

"Fuckin' worf evry penny."

A short, stockily built man with two stripes on his arm stepped forward.

"Right you fuckers, yer'll all get yer turn but young Billy gets first go. And no fucker goes tellin' him ter hurry up. Oright?"

A reluctant muttering of "Yes Corporal" registered sullen acceptance and a young boy was pushed forward.

"Err Evenin' ladies. I'm Billy, Billy Preston, 17th Battalion London Regiment."

The heavy-set Corporal turned to the two girls.

"Nah, listen, Billy 'ere ain't never been wiv a woman so treat 'im proper an' it'll be worth yer while."

Then he leaned in closer to whisper " Termorrer 'es due back ter the front line an there's evry chance 'e won't be goin' 'ome. This could be 'is only time so make it a good 'un."

Pasha and Jacqui looked at each other in horror, the combination of being whored out, the all-pervading feeling of doom and the intense feelings of personal peril pushing them to an almost catatonic state of fear. In the end it was Pasha who nodded her head decisively, reached out and took the young man's hand.