The Nixon Girls Ch. 07

Both Ten and Fifteen simply held their places whilst the young woman vainly struggled and only when Camilla's resistance had waned to a sobbing, exhausted squirm, did Ten speak once again: "Don't fight it girl, just let yourself relax and the pain will go away, you might even find that you like it; OK?" Camilla was simply astounded by his words; she'd never heard of such a thing happening to a girl and couldn't believe that even the skankiest of the village scrubbers would willingly consent to such a violation, never mind enjoy it! Camilla understood that she didn't have a choice though and when Ten repeated his question and enquired if she'd understood, Camilla meekly proffered a tear-stained nod of assent.

Having managed to force an entry between Camilla's tight buttocks, Ten now progressed at a more gentle pace, circling his hips he pressed slowly back and forth, with each thrust penetrating slightly deeper into Camilla's bowel. The young girl tried to relax as advised and whilst Ten's incursion slowly progressed, she consoled herself with the thought that it wasn't Six's fat cock working it's way into her sweet arse; notwithstanding, Camilla remained fearful as she pictured the length that Ten intended forcing into her. As promised, the pain did slowly ease and when encouraged by the watching crowd, Fifteen began fucking her mouth once more, Camilla was offered some distraction from what was happening at her rear. The young girl reflected bitterly on how only minutes earlier, she'd naively believed, that that submitting to oral sex was the most degrading act that a woman might suffer.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, Ten succeeded in burying his full length within her resistant channel, his accomplishment was met by a rousing cheer from the spectators, but Camilla had already known; only moments earlier she'd felt the first brush of his balls against her inflamed pudenda and to her surprise, the touch had sent a quiver of excitement through her slight frame. The young girl speculated at her response to this new debasement; had she always, though unknowingly been a precipitate slut? Or did all women respond like this?

The question was unanswerable, but in either event, as the two men began using her from either end in a steady and seemingly harmonized cadence, Camilla felt the onset of another orgasm and when Ten's fingers joined the fray, exploring the soft damp cavern of her tingling pussy, what little dignity she still possessed was discarded. Camilla writhed upon their penetrating cocks and swearing like a Trooper, with no vestige of her renowned decorum and nobility remaining, she collapsed beneath the weight of a final earth-shattering orgasm; barely aware that her two antagonists where right there with her, one spewing over her face and hair, whilst the other injected her spasming bowel with his hot seed and their compatriots cheered and whistled noisy encouragement.

It was some while later that Camilla recovered her faculties; she half-remembered a noisy entreaty that Ten should 'stick it in her prissy mouth and make her clean it off' and realised with shame that the suggestion had far from filled her with revulsion that it ought. The idea had been quelled with a reminder that it was only 'one hole each'; the discussion now was about the likelihood of Camilla reporting her rape, with Ten quite correctly concluding that provided that they stuck to their pledge that this should be a one-off event, then in all probability, the young woman would be far too fearful of the afternoon's events becoming public to do anything about it.

Camilla gave an instinctive shudder when their conversation turned to the filming which the men had undertaken and was relieved to hear Ten say that there would be no copies passed around, but that he was keeping the original as an insurance policy against the slim possibility of Camilla considering taking any action; he again assumed quite correctly, that the thought of copies being posted on the websites of her University or the local Country Club, would provide adequate disincentive for the girl to blab. She was less enamoured to hear Ten promising to arrange a viewing of the edited footage by all participants at some future date, provided they stuck to their pact of not discussing events with any outsiders; despite being the prime participant, Camilla doubted that she would be receiving an invitation to the show!

As Camilla roused herself from the now befouled mattress, the laughing men had become serious, in response to Ten's terse instructions. 'We're behind schedule, so I need to get away from here now, but you all know what's to be done; dump the slut where we agreed, make sure this place is left clinically-clean and burn the bed along with the clothes you've been wearing, including those hoods, we don't keep any souvenirs: Just in case the bitch's dumb enough to grass us up." With that he turned and left the room. The activity became hurried but was clearly well organised; Camilla's skirt and ravaged blouse were tossed toward her, with a curt instruction that she get dressed, she noted that her bra and panties and one stocking weren't returned, so clearly a few souvenirs were being retained.

Camilla covered he modesty as best the torn blouse and short skirt would allow, before quickly being hustled outside and back into the rear of the grubby van in which she'd arrived; there was only the driver and one other accompanying her on this trip, though she surmised correctly, since they were delivering her back to freedom, they no longer expected her to offer resistance. The two men remained silent throughout the journey and even when the driver unexpectedly stopped after only perhaps ten minutes, his only words were, "get out" as his associate slid open the side door. Camilla stumbled out onto the grass verge wondering where the Hell she was and how in her state of immodest disarray she could possibly make her way home; as the van roared away the answer to her second question was revealed, as standing on the opposite verge was her own Mercedes. Camilla dashed across the country lane and was relieved to discover that the keys were in the ignition, a map showing the way back to Ashwell Hall was taped to the steering wheel -- it was less than three miles away -- whilst her handbag, shopping bags, and jacket that she'd dropped at the railway station were all neatly stowed on the passenger seat.

Camilla delved into the carrier bags and quickly availed herself of new underwear and a fresh blouse, it seemed almost sacrilegious to the young fashionista to be despoiling her brand new garments against her sweaty and semen stained skin. But, 'needs must' as gran was always saying and she cleaned herself up as best she could, using some wet-wipes from her bag and the shreds of her ravaged blouse; Camilla was quite appalled by the copious amount of fluid still dribbling down her inner thighs and as she finally climbed into the car, she jammed the remains of her soiled blouse firmly into her crotch to protect the upholstery. Five minutes later, Camilla roared up the gravel drive, grateful that she'd seen no-one enroute and stopping right outside the front entrance she positively sprinted up the colonnaded steps and into the safety of her ancestral home.

To Camilla's relief the place seemed deserted and she continued up the stairs to the sanctuary of her rooms, where she stripped off her clothing and plunged into a hot bath to quite literally scrub herself clean, whilst analysing the afternoon's events. It was almost two hours later that the young girl, clad only in her dressing gown descended the stairs one again and moving through the grand hall discerned the mumble of voices, Camilla followed the sound and eventually discovered her brother Charles in the small Drawing Room; what a surprise, he was watching some bloody sports match on TV!

Charles looked up as she stood in the doorway "How goes it Sis? Did you enjoy yourself up in Town? You must have done, because you're looking knackered, as rough as a badgers arse in fact!"

Typical Charles, Camilla thought, before enquiring: "Where is everyone?"

Mother and Pops aren't back until Tuesday evening, I thought you knew that already?"

"Of course I do, what I meant was, where are all the staff?"

"Oh them; well I got Cook to leave me some food plated-up in the pantry and told then them all to bugger-off home for a few days of extra holiday; once I was provisioned it seemed pretty pointless to keep four people mooching around here just to switch TV Channels for me."

That was also typical of Charles it was little wonder that the staff all loved him too. "So what's on your menu for dinner this evening little brother?"

"Oh there's nothing much left now, I had some of the chaps around after the pub closed last night and we ate all there was; no doubt there'll be some pizzas in the freezer, but I can't be fagged cook one. No, I was just about to head-off to the pub for a couple of pints and a bar-snack if you fancy joining me?"

Camilla sighed. "Not really, I was planning on staying in tonight and I'd hoped that you might join me? I'll cook the pizzas; I really don't want to be left on my own."

"Stay in, stay in! On a Sunday night! And do what pray? Watch Songs of Praise on the TV?"

"Well I thought we could perhaps watch a film and you know how to operate that big plasma-screen in Daddy's study."

"No way girl, I'd rather suffer Songs of bloody Praise than whatever Rom-Com you've got in mind!"

"It doesn't have to be a chick-flick; we'll watch something you'd like too."

Charles grinned. "You're saying I get to choose?"

"No I'm not! If you chose it'd be all blood and mayhem with Wesley Snipes or Vin Diesel; I'm choosing, but I will promise to pick something that you'll enjoy too."

"Will you do garlic bread too?"

"If you like."

"Then maybe: But it depends on what film you choose."

"Well, I thought that if you were to set up the plasma screen and dig out a nice bottle of red wine from the cellar, whilst I cooked up pizza for us both; then whilst we're eating those, we could watch one of those blue-movies that you've got tucked away on the top left-hand shelf of your wardrobe; pick a really dirty, hard-core one."

Charles was gob-smacked, not least by the fact that Camilla knew where his porn stash was hidden, so his replied was somewhat stuttered. "I.., well..., I'm not sure about this..., what if someone were to come in?"

"Oh Charles; who for God's sake? We're agreed that mummy and daddy are away until Tuesday and you're the one who told me that none of the house-staff are in residence."

Charles climbed out of the chair and mumbled "OK then," as he headed for the door.

Just as he slipped past his sister in the doorway, she spoke softly in his ear; it was little more than a whisper. "whilst you're up there, why don't you bring down the film you and your Rugger-Bugger friends made this afternoon too? When we've finished our pizzas, I could kneel on the floor and watch it whilst you fucked me in the bum again; you won't need the green-hood, or a bandage to hide the family birthmark this time, though you could hold on to the coarse Scottish accent, that was really quite arousing."

Charles turned white and his mouth dropped open in amazement. Camilla smiled and continued, "You surely didn't think I wouldn't recognise that pencil-dick of yours did you? God I saw it often enough when we were kids. Oh, and as there's just the two of us, we won't need to have a 'one hole only' rule either, so when you've come in my behind, if you wanted to grab me by the hair and make me suck your cock clean too, then I'd simply be forced to oblige you."