Guerdons of WarbyNakod Apa©
She found it strangely soothing whitewashing the rough plaster walls. The old half-derelict cottage was slowing taking shape, contradicting the village wiseacres who had not only adjudged that nineteen was far too young for marriage, but also that they should have waited and saved until they had enough to build a new home.
However the last few months had shown they were right not to wait. They could not have foreseen the civil war, but its coming meant they needed to grasp happiness while they were able, for who could foretell the future.
An old lullaby on her lips she contentedly dipped her brush in the bucket. She had finished the two side walls and just started the far one when the ancient plank door rattled and Peter rushed in.
'Quick, Maria! Come out! Hide! Troops are in the village.'
Appalled, she looked at her husband, 'But hide where, Peter?'
'Up the hill.' He grabbed her arm and pulled her after him. 'We'll make for the woods and . . '
Too late. The thump of a boot dislodged the door from its rusting hinges.
Unable to halt their dash for the doorway Peter nearly collided with a figure in government issue uniform. The soldier swung aside, his raised rifle-butt striking Peter violently on the head. He collapsed half-conscious in a heap on the floor.
'Peter!' She fell to her knees beside him only to be roughly pushed away by the soldier.
'Right you,' he shouted at Peter, 'Let's be having you. Outside or I shoot.'
'He can't. You've nearly killed him.'
'I've got my orders, bitch.' He pointed the rifle at Peter, his finger on the trigger.
Desperately Maria grabbed his arm. 'No! Please no!'
He pushed her away.
'Anything but that. I'll do anything but don't shoot him.'
Slowly the soldier lowered his gun and looked at her. 'Stand up. Back against the wall.'
Suspiciously he inspected her. From her bare feet, on up the torn, calf length linen skirt covering her strong legs and ample hips to her narrow waist. He lingered suggestively on the full, high breasts hidden by an embroidered peasant blouse, then took in her oval face with its large brown eyes, short nose and curved lips.
'Anything, eh! . . . Right, strip off!'
Trembling, she slowly undid the top button of her blouse, then the second, then . . . One hand gripping the rifle he reached out with the other, grasped the material and impatiently ripped the blouse from her.
Her hands flew up to cover her bare bra-less chest. Then, recognizing that the lust on his face made it futile, she straightened her spine, dropped her hands to the waistband of her skirt and stared proudly back at him, her firm young breasts jutting titillatingly toward him.
'We have a deal? I'll play the whore for you, if you promise to leave him alone.'
The soldier backed to the doorway and quickly peered around outside. 'Yes.' He licked his lips.
Maria found the drawstring of her skirt, unfastened it and allowed it to fall to her ankles. Bending her legs she pushed her plain, cotton drawers down and stepped out of them. The soldier gazed at the thick chestnut bush atop her thighs and sighed. Leaning his rifle against the wall he began to undo his trousers.
'Turn round. Hands on the wall. Spread your feet,' he ordered.
She felt him move close. Pulling her a half pace toward him, he forced her to lean further forward in order to keep her hands on the wall. His coarse uniform jacket was rough against her back, his cock was nudging hard against her buttocks. Rough hands slid round to grasp her pendant breasts.
Closing her eyes she moaned as he mauled her boobs and stroked the head of his cock along her slit. Defiantly she waited for him to penetrate her, fearful of the hurt to come. Reaching between her soft parted thighs she fingered her clit to try and moisten her cunni, but he gave her no time and with one sharp thrust he rammed his full length into her tight, dry tunnel. She screamed.
One hand on her shoulder, one clenching a breast, he fucked her hard, with long, driving strokes. Nothing gentle, the full force of his heavy body hammering into her each time he thrust forward. He seemed to revel in his power and her cries of pain. She was sweating, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps in rhythm with the slamming of his cock.
Her groans grew deeper. Just when it seemed she could take no more he erupted deep inside her, his seed filling her depths. Both hands on her tits he dug his nails into them, bruising her firm flesh.
'Something to remember me by,' he said as he slid his now flaccid cock from her.
Then, just as an unsteady Peter finally completed his laboured, un-noticed crawl to the rifle, a second figure in khaki appeared in the doorway. 'What's happening here? Report, corporal,' it said.
The soldier turned, saw Peter grab the rifle and point it at him. Rushing to deflect it his feet tangled in his trousers and he fell forward. Too late. The bullet caught him square in the chest, his body landing on top of Peter who didn't have the strength to twist away.
'A pretty scene.' The newcomer remarked.
Maria looked at him in dismay. An officer this time, his pips gleaming in a stray beam of sunlight.
He considered Peter, 'I could wish my men were like you instead of this rabble I have to pretend are soldiers. Or that I could have met you earlier. As it is . . .' With one smooth motion her drew his revolver, put it to Peter's head and pulled the trigger.
Maria screamed and slumped against the wall, shaking with grief.
Picking her torn blouse and skirt from the floor the officer pushed them at her. 'We've no time for that. It's the price of war. Put these on.'
She made no attempt to dress, just clutched the clothes to her.
'As you will,' he took her by the arm pulling her toward the door. 'Come. So far on this campaign the nights have been somewhat boring. Maybe you'll provide me with some decent entertainment for a week or two.'
'Oh, Daddy! Must I!'
'I'm afraid so my dear. How else can you finish your education?'
'But what about this war?'
'They say it'll be over by Christmas. Then it'll be safe to travel again. I'll book you a passage home for the New Year. Your Aunt Julia will look after you for your three years at college.'
Father had spoken, so in early January I reluctantly left my parents to manage their plantation alone and boarded the S.S. Minerva, a medium sized passenger ship, for the voyage back to our homeland.
The forecasts were wrong, the distant war had not finished. All the reports indicated it was becoming worse, there was even the suggestion of a surface raider in our vicinity seeking to disrupt the trade route.
Inevitably I received a great deal of attention, both from male passengers and the crew - not that I minded, I was well used to men being unable to keep their eyes off me. Men who obviously wanted me for something other than my mind. Of course they did. I was a nicely tanned, curvaceous bundle with great legs and humongous tits. As a guy, who had lured me to a secluded nook once remarked while exploring their proportions, "You can never have too much of a good thing."
It happened during the small hours of the second day. I was woken by an immense bang. As I rushed on deck there was another, and then a third. The radio cabin and part of the bridge had disappeared. A seaman rushed past shouting, "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"
My lifejacket. I turned to fetch it from my cabin when another blast lifted me from my feet. I bounced off something hard and suddenly was in the sea.
Treading water I looked back at the ship. It was ablaze and heeling toward me. My reaction was automatic - swim away. Fortunately my ample upper works give me plenty of buoyancy and I was soon a couple of hundred yards distant. And then the ship was gone. I was alone in a moonlit sea.
What's that over there? Something low and large. Swimming toward it I discovered a life raft. There's a trick to getting aboard these things - grip the edge and push yourself underwater, then suddenly relax and the sea will thrust you up. As you reach a peak push down on the edge and you're halfway inboard.
That's when I found the second mate. Lying toward the far side, only half conscious, his uniform shredded, one arm at an awkward angle and bleeding profusely.
I checked for emergency supplies. A couple of bottles of water and a small first-aid pack - nowhere near enough for his injuries. I needed bandages. The answer was that obvious cliché - rip up my skirt. Except that I didn't have one. All I was wearing was a thin cotton night robe.
I had a choice - panic or cope. I decided panicking would serve no useful purpose so slipping off my robe proceeded to tear part of it into wide bandages. He was obviously in great pain, but sufficiently conscious to thank me.
Then I settled down to wait. Dawn came, then a blazing day. With what was left of my night robe I fashioned a thin blanket to protect my skin from the worst of the sun. Periodically I gave the mate a few drops of water and had a mouthful myself. It was clear it would all be gone by the morrow.
That day we saw nothing but empty sea.
Shortly after dark the wind freshened. Soon the life-raft was pitching violently. It started to rain. I was cold, wet, hungry and miserable. Occasionally I tried to comfort the mate. Then, sometime in the middle of the night, he was no longer there. Had he deliberately drowned himself, or was he washed away? I shall never know.
I think I went a little mad for the rest of the night. Dawn found me curled in a ball, hands thrust between my naked thighs.
Around midday I saw a white patch on the horizon. As it gradually drew nearer I started dancing around my small square waving the remains of my robe, ignoring the sun scorching my tits and pussy.
Closer the patch grew into a medium sized, sea stained yacht. I feared it would pass by then, just as I had given up hope, it altered course.
The sole occupant was a large, tanned Viking type with long, dirty blond hair, wearing just a pair of spotty shorts. At first he just stared at me, then was consumed with a great laugh. 'Come aboard little siren. Which legend are you from?'
'I was on the Minerva,' I said.
'Aha! my guardian angel has come up trumps. Just when I needed a woman. The radio said there were no survivors which means you'll never be missed.' Admiringly he looked me up and down. 'Best watch you don't get those tits sunburnt.'
'Clothes would help.'
'Maybe, if we go ashore. But I reckon you can stay naked while we're at sea. Though wait, I've got some sun-oil somewhere.' He disappeared into the small cabin.
Some minutes later he returned triumphantly bearing a small bottle and a blanket, which he spread on the cabin roof. 'Lie down,' he ordered.
Slowly he began to spread the oil on my body. His hands caressed my breasts then roamed down to firmly cup my mound. Suddenly they were all over me, squeezing, fondling, exploring. He was fast and rough and I was afraid to resist. Anyway what was the point, I was weak with hunger and in his power. His mouth came down on my lips, unshaven bristles scrapping my cheek. I felt him wriggle from his shorts, then he was on top of me his stiff tool pressing into my belly. Resignedly I spread my legs.
He made no real effort to turn me on. I felt I was being manipulated like a Barbie doll, yet I was somewhat damp when he opened my cunni lips and thrust his cock into me. His hands slid under my butt to jerk my hips up as he began to furiously hump me, his weapon driving in and out hard and fast. He was grunting with the power of his effort. He gripped my boobs, his fingers digging in painfully, his mouth rubbing back and forth, his teeth nipping my buds.
He was brutal, he was hurting me, yet I wanted him. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him, hugging him to me and trying to force his plunging member deeper. I realized I was gasping and moaning. My head jerked from side to side as I climaxed just before he filled me with his hot seed.
Was it just my body's natural reaction in the aftermath of extreme danger, the irresistible urge to copulate? Time will tell. But for that moment I was his - to do with as he pleased.
He rolled off me. 'I'd nearly forgotten what I was missing.' He looked down at his flaccid cock, noting the streaks of my blood. 'So I was your first? Good. I was wondering whether to keep you, but that's decided me. You're going to be my woman.'
'Yes, yes,' I said, humouring him. 'Tell me how I may please you.'
'Signal from HQ, Sir.' My adjutant referred to the message flimsy in his hand. 'Refugee convoy of approximately seventy vehicles, containing three hundred civilians, sighted two klicks west of Lunaton heading down the valley. Speed estimated at twelve klicks an hour. We are to intercept and check for illegals.'
'Just what we expected,' I said.
We were well deployed, the route the refugees were following being just over the ridge from the farm I had commandeered as our base. So, after sending a half-track to block the route further up, I marched the men of Bravo Company the mile-and-a-half through the woods and spread them out alongside the road.
Two hours later the first of a motley collection of tractors, saloons and SUV's reached my ambush. Our show of force was overwhelming - exactly as I had planned. There could be no resistance and, having been assured that they would be allowed to proceed unhindered once we had searched their vehicles, the refugees bowed to the inevitable.
I detailed one of my most reliable NCOs for the check since, while the chances were slim that we would find any illegals - they would have taken to the hills, - it gave an opportunity to acquire a nubile female or two to entertain my troops and keep their morale high. For I subscribe to the age old principle that the welfare of a commander's men comes first and, stuck as they were in the field, what mine were lacking most was women.
By the time the search of the convoy was complete a score or so girls and women in their late teens and early twenties had been revealed and where being led back over the ridge to our base. There I had left orders that they were to be cleaned and held in the small barn to await my inspection.
I didn't delay, knowing my men would be impatient to make use of the booty we had acquired so, having sent the refugees on their way, I returned to base. There I found the women had been hosed down and were now ranged some six feet apart along the walls of the barn. Each was stripped naked, her few clothes piled in a heap at her feet.
In reality there was no need for me to supervise the allotting of the women - my Adjutant or the CSM could have done it, however I felt it necessary to demonstrate my interest in the men's welfare.
Since I had no intention of sharing any of our haul with the men - it would be bad for discipline - my inspection was cursory. I merely looked each woman up and down, maybe weighed her boobs in my hand, occasionally stroked a bush, then with a nod moved on.
That is until I was about two thirds along the line. Then, as I came abreast of one of the younger girls, something gave me pause. To this day I cannot say what happened, or how I knew that she was special, that I wanted this one and, even more important, that I could not stand idly by while one of my men took her.
I concealed my interest, I think, and moved on. When I reached the end of the line I turned to the CSM, 'They all seem fine, S'arnt Major. I'll leave you to allocate their use. Except for that one there - the fifth from the left. Have her taken to my quarters.'
He was surprised, and there was a touch of resentment in his eyes that I should commandeer one just for my own use. Tough, I was the commanding officer and it was just one more case of RHIP - rank hath its privileges - and the other females should be sufficient to keep my men serviced.
Half-an-hour later I returned to the room in the farmhouse that I had reserved for myself to find her sitting on the bed quietly sobbing. Sitting next to her I delicately ran my hands over her soft curves, paying particular heed to her soft round breasts. Oh, her young flesh was sweet.
I put it to her straight, 'Don't cry. It may all be for the best. Please me and I'll keep you for myself; fail me and you can join your friends. You can work out what that will mean. You with the others - twenty to a hundred and fifty, that's seven or eight of my men using you each day.'
She gulped and with an effort stifled her tears. 'I'll do my best, but don't hurt me. Please.'
My desire was overwhelming me as I tore off my shirt and combat pants. Naked I lay alongside her, my arm around her, my lips softly pressing against her mouth. Gently I massaged her shoulders and on down her side to her hip, then across her belly to toy with her pussy hair and cup her mound. She took a deep breath but remained still as my fingers found her slit - how could she resist the inevitable?
Her breathing deepened as my lips slid down her throat and along her clavicle to her nipples - sucking, licking and nibbling each in turn. She gasped when I spread her legs and lowered my head to slowly work my tongue along the inside of her thighs and up and down her slit.
Her eyes closed and she lay still as my tongue found her clit and firmly toyed with it. She moaned with pleasure and humped toward me as my teeth gently scraped her tender labia. Slipping a finger into her wet cunni I moved it gently to and fro. She whimpered with delight so I added a second then a third. She arched into me pushing her mound against my palm.
Climbing up her body I sucked her boobs in passing then I was fully on top of her my, tool pressing hard into her belly. She put her hands on my hips and pushed me up slightly, creating space to wriggle her entrance under my tip. Raising her ankles to the small of my back she took me smoothly inside.
She groaned with desire as my thick weapon filled her depths. She gripped me with her legs, gave a mighty shake and climaxed. I plunged in and out of her and a minute or so later emptied my balls deep inside.
Collapsing onto her firm breasts I lay relaxed.
'You'll do,' I said. 'I'll look after you and see you're fed and protected for as long as we remain here.'
'And how long will that be?'
'I don't know. Depends what happens. Anyway you'll probably be with child by then so if I can I'll send you home. If that is what you want.'
'What other choice do I have.'