When Castro started his drive for power in Cuba, the war that started was a bitter one fought in back alleys and dungeons and the birth place of sadists who rivaled any that Hitler could scrape up in the name of national glory.
Batista's name ranks with the war criminals of the Nazi prison camps when it comes to the perversion of his private army. Degradation and brutality and sexual terror set the tone of this book, a reflection of the forces unleashed by petty tyrants who see in people merely instruments for their own gratification.
THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER ONE
At ten-thirty at night, the April air clinging around the broken-down hotel was as hot and muggy as it had been at sunset. Even the sea breeze off the Havana waterfront couldn't stir the swampy thickness of incipient mildew that clung around the three girls.
Linda Martin had never been more than thirty miles from Akron, and the tumblers of fierce white rum she sipped had barely taken the edge off her tourist excitement. Linda was tall, nearly five-eight, and her wavy red hair rippled like a live carpet from her head to the middle of her back. Her wide green eyes were separated by an upturned, slightly freckled nose. The eager, thirsty look of those un worried .eyes was the only thing that could possibly take attention from the luscious sensuality of her red-painted lips or the high, proud breasts that forced the front of her mint-green nightgown up and forward. "We better put Maxine to bed," she said to Judy Hawkins, indicating the sharp-faced blonde's slumped body with her chin. Linda missed the surly, rum-soaked glare Maxine shot back.
Judy was a brunette, with short-cut hair and an on-guard look to her features. The few times she let herself relax, Judy was very pretty in spite of the cutoff sweatshirts and baggy corduroy trousers she wore at Akron Junior College. "Yes, Maxie's through for the night," Judy agreed. The striped cotton pajamas she wore couldn't conceal the lithe, ballerina-like grace of her motions, or the self-assured way she tugged the small blonde off the blotched rug.
Linda blushed, adjusting the falling strap of her nightgown and felt her boob bounce. "I don't see how you stand those jammies in this heat," she said, flapping the hem of her nightie. "You can't get any air circulation!"
Judy had a wry smile on her thin lips when they dropped Maxine in the bed. Maxine's nightgown was up over her hips, her puffy crotch filling her panties. The icy chill of Maxine's last unfocused glare held Linda stock-still until she staggered back against the edge of the other bed. Linda's innate Ohio modesty made her want to cover the blonde's half-exposed body, but she was paralyzed by the anger she'd seen in Maxine's face. The sultry young redhead blinked two or three times, then sat on the other bed. "Wooo," she muttered. "Maybe I should have stopped drinking sooner!" Linda put on the giddy, goofy smile that had helped win the cheerleader election back home.
Judy didn't buy it. She grabbed the half-full glasses off the table and sat next to Linda. She waited for the redhead to take another sip of the rum, then dropped a bombshell that shattered what was left of Linda's half-drunk composure. "I'm not going back to Ohio, Linda. I'm staying in Cuba." She waited while the words sank in, then went on.
"I'm going to join the Revolution." Judy's voice lowered to a conspiratorial half-whisper. "I brought money with me ... thousands of dollars for food and guns and medicine for Castro's army. I'm meeting a contact tomorrow ... April ninth, at noon."
Everything from those words on was a blur to Linda. The girl remembered agreeing to distract Maxine while Judy disappeared, and the hurried, quiet way Judy had stripped off her pajamas to show Linda how her body had hardened for the hot, hidden marches through mountain and swamp where the guerillas ran. The words were lost, dissolved in rum, but a snapshot of Judy's dry-skinned, lean body stayed in her mind. It was etched there permanently, from the brown-tipped cones of Judy's breasts, across the firm, taut skin of her belly and down to the light padding of feminine fat over long, lissome dancer's legs. In response to Judy's urgency, Linda had rolled to the center of the mattress, her pulse racing. She knew she was old enough that Judy's nudity shouldn't shock her, but the quick display struck a disturbing chord in Linda's own body.
Then, Linda remembered, Judy had rolled onto the mattress beside her. They had stared at each other, swimming in the bittersweet murk of too much rum. Their hands touched, and strange tingles ran along Linda's arms, then down to the center of her belly.
The feelings weren't completely new ... Linda had stifled a similar tingle when a date had tried worming his hands under her skirt. There was no threat this time, though, and the smooth, soft touches of Judy's hands were in tune with Linda's own feelings, like a harpstring picking up the clear hum of a tuning fork. The stifling heat and the rum and the slow, measured rotation of the lazy fan above them made it all seem dreamy, like swimming underwater. Linda let Judy slide the long green nightgown up to her hips, her waist, then lifted her shoulders and stretched her arms out as the garment flowed over her head. She made a helpless, beckoning motion with her hands, inviting Judy to hold her, but the brown-haired Lesbian was fascinated by the curves and textures of Linda's body.
And Linda accepted it. The glistening look of erotic admiration in Judy's eyes made Linda feel truly proud of her body for the first time in her life. A vague hint of inhibition tried to surface in Linda's mind, but the rum and her awakening body silenced it.
Judy reached slowly with her fingertips, and the long pads of her fingers traced a curving line along the outer swell of Linda's pale breasts. The pink cast of the sheltered redhead's skin paled slightly under the feathery touch, then colored again. Judy's fingernail scratched at the rim of Linda's coral aureole, and the surface of the circle crinkled and darkened.
The points of Linda's breasts were over an inch long, blunt-tipped and rubbery. Blood pulsed to them until the lush nipples looked lipsticked against the translucent skin of her bosom. Even the random dusting of tiny freckles on the tops of the mounds stood out more against the translucent blue of the tiny veins that meandered toward Linda's delectable nipples. Linda felt a glow of pride when Judy's lips opened slightly and the brunette's tongue moved sideways against the lingual surface of her even white teeth. Linda blushed.
The hot pinkish tint spread from her ears and cheekbones to her long, lovely throat, then down as far as the upthrust tips of her forty-inch breasts. Judy touched the tips of Linda's nipples.
Linda's expression was asking for something. She felt the hunger all through her, but she wouldn't allow herself to know what it was. Her hips whispered, moving from side to side on the shabby bedspread. She watched Judy's eyes moving on her skin, and the center of her loins warmed. Tentatively, afraid of a word, or even a glance, she touched Judy's upper arm.
Judy didn't stop her lascivious survey of the tall redhead's luscious body. Her fingers trailed from the peaks of Linda's magnificent breasts and followed the high-arched line of her ribs. She ran a fingernail along the vulnerable hollow of Linda's solar plexus, then into the wide, shallow cup of her navel. Linda's stomach curved softly to a trim line just above the lovely indentation, then rose in an enticing curve. At the outsides of the fine downcurve, her hipbones were padded with a thin cushion of feminine flesh. The curve beside each horn of her pelvis was wide as a cradle. It tapered down into insanely long, full thighs. Judy knelt astride Linda's narrow waist and stared lovingly into the very center of Linda's exquisite femininity.
A light, musky odor, like expensive perfume, had begun to rise from the ripe swell of Linda's lovemound. The coppery hair was two shades darker than the curls on her head, and it grew thinly enough that the crevice between her virginal pussylips showed through. A maze of bluish veins ran just beneath the surface of the tender skin, veins that swelled the outer labia into puffy readiness as Judy watched. A glistening strip of moister, softer flesh began to peek through at the center.
The tight, virginal shape of Linda's pussy invited the cupping pressure of a hand or the slow, lascivious caress of a slithering tongue. Tiny beads of pussycream clung to the bases of the red hairs, gleaming like tiny diamonds. Judy's breath stirred the hairs, and Linda involuntarily rolled her hips upward.
The rising power of the sensations in her body disturbed Linda. She'd never had to cope with feelings like the ones that emanated from her loins right now. There was a hungry, hollow throbbing in Linda's belly, like a far-off bass drum beating in time to her heart. Her nipples hurt in a strangely pleasant way. The whole mound of each titty ached for some pressure, some new touch that she'd not needed before. Linda reached up like a drowning swimmer and touched Judy. The brunette turned around and each girl gathered the other close.
Even in the muggy heat of the hotel room, the touch of skin on her own sweating flesh was welcome. The strange heat in her loins flared higher. Judy kissed her, both sets of lips opening slowly and lasciviously.
Linda's tongue found its way into Judy's mouth. Linda's body reacted with a lewd urgency that surprised her. Linda hesitated for a moment, then threw herself into the shared contact.
She ran her hands along Judy's back, running her palms from Judy's shoulders to the hot, round firmness of the brunette's asscheeks. Linda heard a moan, but the clinging wetness of the two girls' mouths hid the source. She didn't know if it was her voice or Judy's.
Judy's hands began moving again, gliding silkily along the outer swell of Linda's bosom, pressing the aching mounds up against Judy's own tits. Linda's nipples bored into the dry warmth of Judy's skin. Judy's titty-points pressed lascivious sensation into Linda's large, lewdly aching breasts.
A warm, slightly scratchy sensation near the base of Linda's belly turned moist. It was as warm and soft and erogenous as the feelings in her own pussy. Linda rocked her hips upward and tautened her belly against the rubbing, sliding pressure of Judy's vulva. Linda opened her thighs and a long, slender leg pressed against her lovemound.
Linda was amazed at the erotic sensitivity of her flesh. Without the grabbing, hurried creep of a boy's fingers there, her labia seemed to blossom open. Judy's thigh didn't threaten to invade her secret channel, or grab and twist at the curly hairs. It merely pressed easily to and fro on her labia, spreading the slow-oozing cream from her vagina to the stiffening tension of her clitty. Linda tightened her hands on Judy's springy ass.
"Ummm-hmmm," Judy moaned, twisting her lips against Linda's mouth. She tugged at Linda's shoulders and the two women rolled onto their sides. Both pairs of legs opened, inviting the kneading pressure of a female thigh against the steamy warmth of exposed labia.
Linda moved her hand slowly up toward Judy's breast. She cupped the joyously hard mound. A forbidden excitement grew, like the rising flicker of flames in a fresh-lit fireplace. Mild as it was, it was Linda's first taste of active sexual participation. She felt her body flowing against Judy's like the taste of liqueurs coating her palate in some smoky club. She felt the need and urgency of another person's hungers, and she wasn't afraid. Linda melted against Judy, every nerve on the surface of her skin finding a fresh, delicious way to feel femaleness.
Linda lost track of the places her hands caressed and squeezed, molded and kneaded. The rising roar of her pulse in her ears orchestrated the chords of musical sensation four hands drew from two ecstatic bodies.
Linda looked at Judy's smiling face, at the lips that were glossy and wet with hunger, at the eyes that were closing with sheer pleasure, and nodded at the question that hung in the air between them.
Linda marveled at the firm, sweet-Burfaced sway of Judy's breasts in her hands. She caressed the whole luscious shape of each conical titty, and then ran her thumbs across the rubbery nipples. Linda felt a pure, child-like joy when the tips sprang back into place, all but begging for another touch.
Judy's lips began to creep down Linda's body. A thrill of shame flashed in Linda's mind, then disappeared under a flood of heat when Judy's gluey-soft lips touched her breast. Lips gripped the tip of Linda's nipple lightly, pulling out and away. The coral point slipped out of her mouth, setting concentric rings of rippling sensation in motion. The lusty feeling went all through the jelly-like mound of her titty and set waves running up and down her spine.
That feeling of sin, that half-remembered prohibition, grew stronger, but the luscious beauty of Judy's lips on her nipple overwhelmed it. Linda arched her back, offering her bosom to her friend. She felt the lasciviously erogenous slide of a tonguetip across the semicircle of aureole beneath each nipple. Linda moaned.
She gripped Judy's breasts harder, relishing the contrast of lean firm flesh under the satiny smoothness of Judy's skin. The nuggety brown points of Judy's nipples pressed against Linda's palms in the same lewd, hungry way Linda's nipples offered themselves to Judy's mouth.
Linda loved the way those enticing lips covered the whole sensuous ring of each aureole in turn, then glided back to tug at the tips again. Linda sighed, and her fingers pressed deeper into the lewd springiness of Judy's tits.
An oily warmth flowed from Linda's vagina, a bubbling stream of luscious juice that heated the whole trough of her loins. Linda pushed the mysteriously swampy center of her pussy up at Judy, and her thigh touched Judy's pussymound.
The lewd heat in her breast had a strange, erotic connection with the crinkly moistness of the other girl's cuntal zone. Linda rubbed her full, fair-skinned thigh against the puffy warmth of Judy's pussy, and a slick, oily fluid coated her skin. It was a magical liniment that oozed soft warmth into her muscles. Linda slid her hands down the wide curve of Judy's hips and marveled at the youthful firmness of her ass cheeks. Linda pulled Judy to her, revelling in the flow of cream on her thigh and the grinding, rolling motions of Judy's leg on her own pussy. "Ohhh, Judy," she moaned, pressing her breasts at the brunette's face and tugging at her hips. "Ohh, god!"
"Yes, Linda, yes!" Judy sighed. She gave the tip of each nipple a last flashing lap of her tongue, then -edged her thigh from between Linda's legs. She rolled Linda onto her back and turned around, straddling the red-haired girl's head.
Linda looked down and saw Judy's breast hanging enchantingly over her own belly. She opened her mouth unconsciously, licking toward the dark-brown tips of Judy's nipples. Linda raised her knees automatically when Judy's hands circled under her thighs. She opened her legs wider, responding to the light touch of Judy's fingertips at the tops of her thighs, then realized what Judy was about to do.
"Noooo! Judy...." Linda begged. Her knees moved together, trapping the brunette's head between her thighs. "It's ... I'm.... No, please!"
"It's all right, Linda," Judy whispered. "Ooooh, you're so lovely ... I have to!" She tugged free of Linda's loosening thighs and looked between their bellies at Linda's face. "Please, honey, you'll like it!" she begged.
Linda looked down through the high, wide canyon of her own cleavage, past the down-hanging delights of Judy's breasts. She couldn't stand to see the pleading look in Judy's eyes. Linda shifted her gaze, looking up.
There above her was a brown-furred nest that stuck in her mind like a photograph. The rich, wide, aromatic center of Judy's gaped-open pussy looked impossibly moist and inviting. The scent of Judy's arousal filtered into Linda's nostrils and stopped any protest she could still have made. Linda felt soft fingers work along the sides of her labia, and she let her thighs relax. A thin, soft stream of air caressed and cooled the center of her pussy, and Linda moaned.
Linda couldn't stop the silky slide of her hips on the bedspread. She stared up at the moist red center of Judy's pussy. That's what I look like, with the little fold at the top and those tiny inside lips right next to a little oval hole. My god, I can feel that same blush down there, the redder part that goes all the way to my back hole and out to my thighs!
The darkened edges of Judy's pussylips moved, opening and closing. The orchid-like mouth of her vagina slowly tensed and relaxed, showing the glowing pink of the inner folds. Red heat ran from the triangular hood of the brunette's clitty to the front edge of her rectum. The whole area was slick, glistening with the clear fluid of her arousal. Linda drooled as she looked up at the easy contractions and openings of the delicate pussymouth.
Like a hypnotized dreamer, Linda raised her hands. She slid her palms along Judy's trim waist and along the skin. Her hands reached the outside of Judy's supple buttocks. She stopped the slight, slow motions of Judy's hips long enough to study the enticing red of her pussy center and the surrounding nest of wet brown hair. Linda gulped.
A warm, wet touch on her own labia made Linda shut her eyes. The warmth, the texture, the incredible slipperiness told Linda that it had to be Judy's tongue. Her sphincters tightened with a chill that flashed the whole length of her spine. The lascivious slither went up the outer edge of one pussylip, then down the inside of her other thigh. The curly coarseness of her red pussyhairs pressed into the sensuous surface of her inner labia. Linda gripped Judy's asscheeks tighter.
The next gliding slither of tongueflesh went right down the tight crevice at the center of her lovemound. A ripple of tension traveled straight to Linda's brain. As the tongue passed, Linda felt her thighs opening wider, offering her secret center openly to lascivious motions of Judy's mouth. The sticky slices of her inner labia parted, and a second stream of exhaled air ran along the middle of the moist tissues. Linda moaned again, louder.
Judy kissed along the top of Linda's lovemound, and the redhead swiveled her hips. The sensation was like nothing she'd ever known. The easy, half-teasing motions of Judy's tongue tantalized her, making her anticipate the next touch. Judy waited just a fraction longer than Linda had thought she would, and the next slithering lick took her pussy by surprise.
The sliding rhythm of Judy's tongue accelerated, but never quite enough. The brunette's mouth stayed a tempting step behind the pace of Linda's arousal. Soon, Linda felt long, loving, almost constant strokes running up and down the center of her pussy. The moves alternated at random, toying with the rise of lewd heat in the redhead's cunt zone. The coppery hairs parted, and the crevice was ready.
Judy stopped licking. Linda thought she would die. Her hips rose and fell, moving in a sensuous figure-eight. She whimpered.
"Kiss me ... kiss my pussy, too," Judy said. Her voice was a passionate growl. She lowered her hips, bringing the dripping center of her nest almost to the tip of Linda's nose, and moved lustily back and forth.
Linda closed her eyes. Delicately, half-afraid of what might happen, she extended her tongue. The redhead raised her face and felt the marvelous wet warmth of Judy's pussyfolds against her lips. A tentative dab at the spot where she remembered Judy's vagina was coated her mouth with a marvelous fluid that soaked into the tissues of her palate. She swallowed, then kissed the sleek wet center of Judy's pussy again.
The tongue and lips in her own pussy began to move once more. Linda's hands tightened on Judy's ass, dragging the brunette down against her face. In the space of a single heartbeat, Linda thrust her hips up, grinding her cunt against Judy's face, and began slurping hungrily at the brunette's pussy.
The slow, lascivious rise of feelings exploded like a thunderclap. One second, Linda was gently offering her body, shyly kissing at Judy's loins. The next instant, her tongue writhed like a squirming eel in and around the brunette's cunt. She gathered curly hairs into her mouth, swallowed spit and cuntcream, and ground her crotch against Judy's face.
Linda became a tiger. A fist-size knot of feelings in her belly hardened and grew. She moaned, the fleshy muff of cuntflesh on her lips stifling the sound. She twisted, rubbing her belly on Judy's tits. Linda bucked and bumped her pubic bone against Judy's chin.
The hot spike of her clitty shot sparks. Linda found the pearl-hard nubbin at the top of Judy's cuntslit and sucked it. She pulled it into her mouth. Her tongue flashed back and forth, whipping frenzy into both women's motions.
The flailing heat on her own clit grew. Linda felt flames in her nerves. Her hips churned. Her tongue whipped back and forth. She thrust into Judy's cunthole, then sucked at her clit. The slick juice flooded her face. Linda wanted to jam her head into Judy's pussy. She strained her legs wider, offering her cunt to Judy's face.
The creaking springs of the bed protested under the accelerating motions of the two drunken women. The fumes of booze and sweat and cuntjuice filled the room. The cream squishing from both cunts sloshed loud. Gasping breaths and groans of pleasure echoed off the peeling wallpaper.
That knot of feeling in Linda's belly tightened, then exploded. Something unknown, but incredibly erotic pounced from her clit to her brain. Linda sucked and licked and bucked under Judy. Judy ground down against Linda's cunt, Linda's face, Linda's tits. They rolled onto their sides.
Twisting, writhing, gasping for air, they started to come. Judy's slim fingers dug deep into Linda's ass. The ancient bedspread wrinkled, then ripped. Both bodies ground wetly together. The groans, the gasps, the sweaty slapping of tits on bellies sounded like a battle to the death. Linda's long red hair tangled around Judy's legs. Judy's short brown hair rumpled against the tensing surfaces of Linda's thighs.
Linda was lost, drowning in sensation. The musky taste of cunt juice filled her mouth. The awesome force of her cuntal contractions bludgeoned her nerves. Nothing mattered but the cunt in her mouth and the mouth on her cunt.
It went on and on, reaching higher peaks with each gnawing suck against her cuntlips. Judy's mouth assaulted Linda's snatch. Linda ground her cunt fiercely against Judy's face. Sweat greased them both. Their tits were as wet as their cunts. Their asses gleamed in the light from the dingy yellow bulb. The slippery sheen of their sweat emphasized every lusty motion of their bodies.
Linda lost herself. She was all cunt, sucking hungrily to drag the entire world into her hole. Like a snake swallowing its tail, she shoved against Judy's twat and felt Judy's face grind into her crotch. The clasp of cuntflesh on her tongue reinforced the shocking strength of her own orgasm. Linda fought harder to come, fought harder to force ecstasy into Judy's pussy. Every part of her gathered tight before one last pulse. It held, waiting like a boulder on the edge of a cliff. She felt the waiting in Judy, the holding off, the knowledge that they would both die in the next wave of orgasmic feeling. Muscles were tight. Everything froze, then....
Linda let herself go spinning away, riding huge crests of feeling. A part of her mind couldn't believe the power of her awakened pussy. Her limbs slacked, and Linda rolled away from Judy's spasming body into a pit of unconsciousness.
CHAPTER TWO
Linda tried to contain her turmoil all during the morning of the ninth. Those cascades of feeling that had overwhelmed her the night before couldn't possibly be anything but sin, could they? She was jumpy and jittery during breakfast, during the stroll she and Maxine and Judy took through the plazas, even during lunch.
She was a long way from Akron, and a long way from the way she'd been brought up. That curly-haired nest between her thighs was private, secret, not to be touched except by anyone besides the husband she would someday have.
But it had felt so good, and Judy obviously wasn't worried about the sin-if there'd been one. Maxine had become even surlier, but Linda couldn't tell if it was from the blonde's obvious hangover, or if, somehow, she'd dragged herself from rummy unconsciousness to see what Linda and Judy had done. Before Maxine had awakened, Judy and Linda were both dressed for breakfast, so it couldn't have been the way the two taller women slept, arms and legs wrapped around each other.
Judy smiled and winked secretively at Linda and tried to cheer Maxine while they meandered through downtown Havana. She made whispered remarks at the police who drove around in jeeps with machine-guns mounted on the back, and at the sweating shopkeepers. They finished an early lunch and wound back toward the hotel. The streets were clearing. Even the growling jeeps and armored carriers of the national police slowed down, then disappeared.
Right in front of the hotel was a square with three wide trees and half a dozen wrought-iron tables. Linda watched a shopkeeper roll down the wicker blinds over his windows. Across the plaza, a taxi-driver turned off his motor. It was two minutes of twelve.
Linda still didn't believe that Judy would go through with it. The leggy brunette smiled brightly, and said, a bit too loud, "Oh, Maxine, I just remembered! I have to re-register us at the hotel. Why don't you and Linda get us a couple of those straw handbags to take back next week?" She pointed to the shop that was closing for siesta. "Oh, and your mother wanted castanets!"
Linda's throat tightened as Judy waved. She tugged Maxine's arm, leading the blonde toward the little shop across the plaza. "Come on, Max," she said huskily. Her eyes stung.
She's going ... going now, Linda thought. She ignored the abrupt tug that snatched Maxine's wrist out of her hand. Judy's really, actually doing it! Linda turned away and hurried ahead of Maxine to the dark interior of the shop.
Behind her, a motor started. Something was wrong! Just as Maxine followed her into the shop, Linda realized what it was. It wasn't the taxi! The pebbly banging of a heavy diesel roared louder.
Linda spun around. The shopkeeper grabbed her arm and threw her to the floor. A flashing glimpse of the taxi-driver pulling a pistol from his shirt stopped Linda for an instant.
Judy ran across the square. A clattering, rust-smeared tank roared into the plaza. The taxidriver dodged behind his cab, and the tank's machine guns opened up.
Dust flew. Chips of stone from the cobbles and powdered plaster from the fronts of the buildings filled the air. The dreadful hammering of the heavy machine guns went silent as the turret cannon belched. With a huge "BAA-RUMMPHH!" the taxicab caved in. The machine guns rattled again, dimmer in the echoes of the gun.
Rifle shots mingled with the chaotic screams and shouts of dead and dying Cubans. Pieces of taxicab rained down, smashing wrought-iron tables, tearing limbs from trees.
Someone beat on Linda's head. She rolled over, kicking and yelling. The image of Judy, a third eyehole in the middle of her forehead, blinded her in the dark of the curio shop. Linda didn't recognize Maxine until the soldiers pulled them apart. The general strike against Batista's government had begun.
Linda Martin had no idea of where she was. The twists and turns the truck had taken had lost her completely. Barricades in the streets were on fire. Gunshots and ricochets rattled and whined around them, sometimes ringing the side of the closed truck like a huge, mismade bell.
The handcuffs cut into her wrists. Linda tried to think, tried to reason her way out of the nightmare, but all she could think of was Judy's twitching body on the cobblestones of the plaza. "Why, Maxie, why?" she sobbed.
The soldier in the back of the paddy wagon never answered. He sat with his rifle across his knees, watching the half-dozen prisoners as if he didn't care one way or the other about shooting them. All but one of the Cubans sat as stolidly as the guard, waiting for the journey to end at the prison barracks. The exception, an old, sweating mulatto man, lolled his head back against the steel side of the truck and chuckled every time he looked at Linda. "Ay, guapa," he half-whispered. "Ay, ay, pobrecita guapa!"
Linda didn't care that she was a poor little cutie, or even know what he was calling her. She only knew her friend was dead, and that Maxine had shouted hysterical Spanish at the police before they led her away. Oh, poor Judy, she thought, poor, pretty Judy!
Nightmares never end as easily as Linda would have liked. The thick stone walls of the Moncada barracks were clammy, dank inside, even though the afternoon was half over. It was no place to be stripped naked by leering guards, and no place to be stood against a wall while soldiers and their prisoners marched past. Linda, her hands cuffed behind her, her legs chained, tried to shrink through the massive stone blocks of the wall, but the slimy-cold touch of the clammy blocks made her flesh creep. The statuesque redhead didn't know which was worse, the moldy nastiness of the hewn boulders or the lewd sniggers of the soldiers.
It took her hours to decide that this couldn't be an ordinary day at Moncada. The fat, greasy-eyed corporal who'd ordered Linda's original captor to leave her in the entryway had scarcely had time to leer at her since she was brought in. Soldiers borught in blocks of prisoners, some bleeding from the wounds of bayonets, bullets, or cobblestones, some dragging unconscious comrades. It seemed as if half the population of Havana was rounding up the other half for instigating the battle that had started at noon.
And there Linda stood, her long red hair hanging loose. She'd tried to shake strands around to cover her breasts, but the rich pink of her nipples poked through. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to hide her cuntal vee with one tight-presseed thigh, but that only accented the tapering slimness of her legs and the outrageously lewd shape of her hips.
She couldn't even tell if the street fighting had subsided. The heavy steps of the soldiers' boots and the slamming of metal doors drowned out any sound that could have filtered through the stone walls. Moncada barracks is on the outskirts of Havana, and the strike was confined mostly to the middle of the city, where the Twenty-Sixth of July Movement and its allies were being crushed by Batista's army. Only the gunshots inside the prison walls were audible, the pistol shots that killed any sympathizer that an officer or non-com recognized or held a grudge against. There were more and more bullets fired within the prison as the day wore on. Unit commanders came in from the streets, swaggering, with boasts of routing the disorganized rabble outside. Linda stood naked, numbed, while prisoners came in and bodies went out. She at last slid down the wall and let her forehead rest on her knees, utterly despairing of ever seeing the outside of the prison again.
Decisive footsteps halted in front of her. Linda became aware of shiny black cavalry boots reflecting her forlorn image. Her eyes traveled up the long tops. The flare of well-worn beige jodphurs ballooned out, then a shining black holster at the left side of an equally shining military harness. A strange hope rose in Linda's heart. She recognized the passport cover her mother had bought. She looked up at the man's face.
"Miss Linda Martin," the officer said. "I am Lieutenant Guitierrez." His blue-black hair was slicked back in a helmet-like pompadour as glossy as his leather equipment. His eyes were off-black, set deep under his brow, glittering like the eyes of an animal in a cave. He gave Linda a thin-lipped smile. The wings of his large, hawkish nose flared.
Linda looked uncomfortably around. She pressed her knees tighter against her breasts. "My ... my clothes?" she asked hopefully. "When will the consul be here?"
The lieutenant carefully put Linda's passport in his tunic's breast pocket. "Ah, yes ... the consul." His eyes glittered like wet rocks. He made a sad pout with his lips. "The general strike has ... impeded, yes, impeded, communications. For now, we would like to ask you some questions." He whipped a small, thin baton from under his left arm and gestured sharply. "Mendoza! Villareal!"
The two soldiers could have been twins, save for the smashed-putty lump of the first one's nose. They grabbed Linda by the arms, their expressions' blank, and hauled her to her feet. "Hey!" she protested. Straight-nose dug his fingers painfully into her arm while Lump nose shook her other shoulder. "AHHH!" Linda gasped. One of them had found a cord of nerves in her bicep and pressed it into the bone. "Where are you taking me?"
The lieutenant's lips stretched bloodlessly in that knife-edge smirk again. "A norteamericana so lovely as yourself deserves more privacy." He turned sharply away from the sergeant's desk to lead Linda and the bookend soldiers down a corridor.
The heavy, clanking chains on her ankles hobbled Linda. She took two or three hurried steps for every long stride of the soldiers. She tripped. Mendoza and Villareal merely tightened their grip on her upper arms and dragged her, letting the smooth-worn stone of the ancient corridor scrape the ends of her toes. The lieutenant tapped his swagger stick on the seam of his pants, never looking back, until they reached a heavy iron door set deep in the wall. He stood aside while Lump-nose found a wrist-thick key and swung the ancient portal open.
The soldiers thrust her through the narrow door. Linda fell heavily on her right side, unable to catch herself. "I-I'm an American citizen! You can't keep me here!" she said, her voice rising hysterically. Linda rolled onto her back and stared wildly up at the lieutenant. The brief flag of hope that had waved when she'd seen her passport in his hands had fallen in the corridor outside.
The only light in the bare cell came from a tiny window ten feet off the floor. A square of brightness illuminated the officer's crotch, showing the distinct lump of his hidden prick. "You are suspected of treason against the people and government of Cuba," the lieutenant intoned heavily. He stoped tapping his baton and reversed it smartly into the crook of his elbow.
Linda couldn't believe her ears. "No! I ... I just came for a visit! My friends and I...." The image of Judy dying in the cobbled street hit her like a medicine ball.
"Find Maxine! She'll tell you! We ... we were shopping, and-" She crept away as best she could, pushing her shackled feet against the floor, spider-walking her fingers beneath the small of her back. She moved halfway up the wall behind her, trying to press through the stone into whatever sunlight showed outside.
"Shopping for heroin, perhaps?" the lieutenant sneered. He moved closer, and the square of light rose to his face. "Or was it guns, guns for those barbudos, those bearded swine in the mountains?"
The world caved in around Linda. The light on the officer's face locked her eyes to him as surely as the handcuffs locked her wrists. His hard, glittering eyes seemed to bore into her face, reading Judy's words of the night before like a string of tickertape running in her mind. His nostrils flared again, but this time his hawk-beak nose was like a bloodhound's on a hot scent.
"What was the name of your contact?" he snapped. Linda shook her head numbly.
"No ... no," she mumbled. There was no way the Cuban lieutenant could mistake it for anything but abject misery. She was limp all over, held up only by the light reflected from those burning black eyes. Linda was losing everything outside the band of light across his face. When he snapped a string of orders, she thought her mind was gone. Linda couldn't even recognize the sounds as Spanish.
Hands grabbed her. The cuffs on her wrists released for an instant, then snapped shut again, catching her hands in front of her. With a twist of her torso and a heavy, almost brutal shove between her shoulderblades, Linda was propelled to a side wall. A soldier yanked her hands over her head. Something snapped metalically. The cuffs held her wrists fully extended over her head.
"How were you to get to the mountains?" the officer rasped.
Linda stared dumbly at him.
"How were you to get to the mountains?" he repeated, a dangerous undertone in his voice.
Linda felt her moods swinging like a pendulum, moving from ox-like numbness to panic. "No, I'm going home next week! I never wanted to join Castro! It wasn't me! It wasn't!" Her voice rose to a shrill scream.
Quick and deadly as a viper, the baton whirled from the crook of the lieutenant's elbow to slash across the tips of her breasts. A knife of pain speared into her tits, then a hot throb replaced it. Linda stopped protesting, her eyes and mouth opening at the shock as much as the pain. She cringed against the wall, trying to pull herself up, out of the officer's reach. The chains rattled on her ankles.
"Who was the taxi-driver?"
Linda shook her head again. This time she was ready for the quick slash of the swagger stick, but it didn't come. "Who gave you the money?" the officer asked.
"I didn't have money ... just for shopping, a few dollars," Linda said.
The baton ripped up and in, across her left breast, then the backhand stroke slashed down and across her right nipple. Her nipples felt as if they'd been burnt with a branding iron. The points oozed pulses of throbbing fire outward until the whole round swell of each tit glowed from within. Tears of pain and shame at her nakedness welled up in Linda's eyes. "Please, I'd tell you if I knew," she whimpered, gnawing at her lower lip.
The whistle of the stick speeding through the dank air warned her-too late. The tip sliced across her left cheekbone. A strip of skin felt torn away. Linda turned her face to the side, leaving the stinging red brand showing full-on to the lieutenant. "I don't know," she whined.
The whole front of her body felt hot, as if the fiery pain of the lacerations was spreading. Linda sagged, dangling from the handcuffs. Her knees bent, and the strain on her arms lifted her blazing breasts higher, flattening the rich globes. The officer gestured with his baton and stepped closer.
The hard, heavy grab of his left hand on her cuntflesh straightened her like an electric shock. "Is this why you won't talk? You want me to fuck it out of you?" the lieutenant hissed. He twisted the fistful of flesh cruelly, tearing the hairs at the edges of her cunt.
Linda tried to close her legs, but the officer's fist was locked to her twat. "AHHH!" she grunted. "Oww, oh, please!" She tried to squirm away, but that only tortured her tight-gripped gash more brutally.
She could feel every one of his fingers gouging into the outer pad of her left cuntlip. The ragged nail of his thumb dug up and down the other side of her vee, bruising the inner folds against the stiffening pellet of her clit and ripping still more hairs from her pussy.
The kneading, twisting, tearing pressure around her pussy slowed, becoming gender. The new series of grasping touches was somehow more abusive, more an invasion than the officer's first violent grab at her twat. Linda felt moisture ooze from her vagina and grease his palm. He worked the cuntjuice against her labia with degrading voluptuousness, slimily coercing her body to respond.
A fingertip found the mouth of her pussy and wriggled in. The insidious violation of her body made Linda want to gag. "No-oooo," she moaned, twisting her arms, galling her wrists on the handcuffs. "Oh, God, please, Mister Guitierrez," Linda whimpered.
With a mixture of pain, disgust, and self-hatred, Linda felt her clitty erecting. The burning of her nipples telegraphed along her nerves, and the three hot spots grew hotter and harder together.
"Yesss, ah, yess," the lieutenant whispered. "A norteamericana slut, a whore for me to find answers from! Ay, si, puta colorada! Venga por me verga, pnta!"
The glossy diagonal strap of his harness pressed Linda's right nipple into the throbbing ache of her tit. Her asscheeks flexed and clenched against the stone wall. The tall redhead tried to stifle the part of her mind that was enjoying the arousal, the relief from the questions and slashes of the swagger stick.
The futile attempt only made her cuntmouth kiss against his fingertip. Linda felt the sensitive walls of her vagina milking at his straining digit. She turned her head away in shame, tossing her long red hair across the lieutenant's face.
A hand fumbled at her belly. Linda squeezed her eyes shut. His lips pressed against her ear, muttering Spanish words she'd never heard in an oily intonation that was too too familiar. She caught words like "carne" and verbs that sounded as gluey as a boot sucking out of thigh-deep mud. Her flesh crawled.
The two soldiers had left the cell. Linda felt the lieutenant's hand creeping on her skin, roaming degradingly from her hip to her breasts. The end of the swagger stick scraped her, stack between his thumb and the pad of his palm, reminding her of the whiplash blows he'd already given her. There was just enough slack in the chain between the handcuffs for Linda to sway from side to side as his hips forced her to the wall.
The heavy buckle of his belt flopped against her thigh. Linda felt a length of hard heat against her lower belly. An ancient, surpressed curiosity melded with her pain and fear. She knew it was his cock touching her, and a part of her wanted to grind her belly against it. Linda tried to move toward his prick and away from the finger stabbing into her cunthole. She moaned, torn between terror, revulsion, and the high, heady feelings of arousal.
A hand grabbed her asscheek, pawing and kneading the firm flesh. It was a cruel parody of Judy's gentle, unhurried touch, molding her flesh lasciviously. Linda sobbed huge defeated tears, drowning even the continual murmur of the lieutenant's voice.
The officer's fly was fully open now. His pants had fallen away from his cock and the wiry, sweaty clumps of his prickbush. He took his intrusive finger out of her cuntmouth and held her asscheeks away from the wall. His prick ground steadily up and down on her pussymound, tugging the hairs back and forth. Lieutenant Guitierrez took half a step backward, still reveling in the lush textures of her asscheeks.
Linda arched forward like a hood ornament, her legs dangling, her arms up and back, still imprisoned by the handcuffs. The stripes of the baton glowed on her skin, reddening as the officer pulled her further from the wall. She went higher, higher, until his cockhead slipped down the center of her muff and wedged between her cunt and her asshole. Her arms ached as if her shoulder sockets would break. Linda felt a huge gush of cunt juice flood from her vagina as the lieutenant rubbed his knob back and forth in her crotch. She wanted to die from the sheer debasing shame of her body's reaction, but a part of her mind made her watch his face as the moment of penetration came nearer.
Guitierrez' face was twisted into a look between a sneer and a lusty leer. His eyes ran over her body, taking in the coppery red of her cunthairs, the smooth flatness of her belly, and the amazing swell of her tits. "Ay! Que clara! Su cula es clara, y grande, y...." He stopped, then the curl of his upper lip exaggerated into a contemptuous snarl. "Your ass, Miss Martin! I'm talking about your ass, your bright, beautiful, big ass!" His fingers gouged deeper into the sensitive flesh every time he hissed, "ass".
"It's wide and soft and perfect for a man to slap his balls against! This ass, this pale white American ass of yours used to be my breakfast, my lunch, my dinner and my bed at night when I had to suck the bullshit from your fat mother and your stinking father! I'm going to fuck your beautiful American ass until you tell me about the barbudos, until you tell me about the money, until you tell me everything you know!" Flecks of foam spattered from his lips as he sprayed hatred at her. His fingers never stopped the ceaseless massage of her ass cheeks.
Linda was terrified. Only the middle link of the chain between her ankles touched the floor. She tried to writhe away, but his fingers had turned to claws. The head of his prick found the tiny oval of her virgin cunt and stabbed up at it. She squealed.
Guitierrez held her in his left hand and brought the baton around to the front of her body. He shook it at her, then, jabbing two stiff fingertips against the very top of her muff, said, "I'm going to start with your cunt, Miss Martin, this passionate red cunt! I'm not going to talk about your TITS-" he backhanded across her breasts, making both aching mounds vibrate with agony-"because your tits-" he slapped again, and the base of the swagger stick cut a groove in the underswell of her breast that immediately oozed blood-"won't hurt you as much as your ass and your cunt!" With the last word, he shoved savagely up into her vagina, tearing the membrane of her hymen.
Linda gasped. The assaulting lance of pain seared her vitals. Guitierrez slapped her face, knocking her head half off her shoulders. The knob of his prick was lodged in her cuntflesh now, and he pushed deeper.
"We Cubanos love fucking American cunts," he growled, working his prick further into her torn channel. "We love Americans, and we love them too fucking much! That's why culito Eisenhower won't help us with more guns! Your fat sugar daddies don't want American cunts to come close to Cubanos." He took her hips in his hands and pulled her down onto the base of his prick.
Linda felt the hard arch of his pubic bone grind her pussyflesh against her clitty, and a fuller, hotter excitement than ever Judy's tongue had given her filled her belly. The end of the lieutenant's prick circled around, levering deep in her belly, and she opened her mouth soundlessly, shocked at the variety of lusty feelings in her body. Her tits pulsed with an aching, throbbing fire. Her cuntlips burned from his fingernails. Her ass had the dull, tender feeling of bruised muscle everywhere his hand touched. The hottest, most sensuous part of her cuntchannel was on fire with the stretching pain of her ruptured cherry. Linda spread her knees wide and clasped her thighs around his hips.
"Yes, I know you whores," Guitierrez grunted. "You stole the blonde bitch's lover, and she told us about your plans." His fingers gouged into her asscheeks like the claws of a nursing cheetah, dragging her close, then letting her swing away on the chain that held her hands so high above her head. "You come here, here to my country, and perform your perverted actions on each other."
Linda felt a huge thrust of his cock ram her womb up and forward. "Unh!" she grunted, automatically tightening her long legs around his twisting hips. "No-I-" she began, shaking her head. Her downcast eyes caught the moving bulge of his prick-knob where it pressed her belly obscenely forward.
Lieutenant Guitierrez lifted her ass high, pulling his prick back and away. "YES!" he shouted, and jammed Linda's twat down the length of prick. "Bitch cunt whore! You think Castro will let you work your filth into his camps?" With every second word, as if he were reciting a violent chant, the officer rammed meat into her cuntchannel and stroked back out.
Linda gave up. She wept, not even trying to disagree with the officer. She wept for Judy, she wept for Maxine, but mostly she wept for herself. The brutal slam of his pubic bone against her pelvis made her legs and arms tighten in spasms. She jerked herself up and down, back and forth on the handcuffs until blood seeped down her wrists. She quit listening, trying only to let her body go slack against the battering-ram assaults of the lieutenant's prick.
It was worse than vile, worse than degrading. He still wore his tunic, his pistol, his boots. Linda felt the crumpled top of his pants brushing her chained ankles with every thrust of his cock. Linda tried to make her disgust rise again, tried to form a wall of hatred that would stop his throbbing cockstrokes, but it wouldn't work. She stopped resisting everything but the rising heat of the sensations in her cunt.
She couldn't help herself. The forcefucking compelled her body to respond to his prick. The slashed heat of her titties, the mauled mounds of her ass, the puffy, bruised slices of her cuntlips, all worked to arouse that secret center of tension in her belly. Linda let her head loll back. Her long hair brushed the wall whenever the officer loosened his grip on her ass. She split herself off from the feeling, staring at the ceiling until her cunt seemed miles away.
But each jabbing stroke of the rapecock brought that whirling hunger in her cunt closer. She felt the muscles of her thighs knotting. Her asscheeks flexed and relaxed in time to his grip. Her tits rolled on her chest-the twisting motions of her shoulders encouraged them. Her hips began moving in time to his strokes!
Linda knew the feeling was just like the magical excitement she'd felt with Judy. She laughed hysterically, and the officer snarled. His words were no longer distinct enough to hear. He redoubled the savage intensity of his fuckstrokes.
His prick jabbed and whirled, throbbing into every corner of her cuntflesh. Linda's rage and disgust and hysterical panic merged, and she threw her cunt at his rampaging prick.
Over and over, she corkscrewed her hips around the plunging piston of rigid meat. The sweaty slapping sounds of his belly against her crotch filled the dank air of the cell. She battled with the lieutenant, her cunt working furiously against his cock. Linda tried to rip the invasive prick away from his body. With her feet shackled in heavy chains and her hands cuffed high overhead, Linda could fight back only with her raped, ruined, bleeding cunt. She growled like a tigress.
Gripping, milking, rotating her hips, Linda discovered more about the frenzied skills of her pussy than she'd thought possible. She straightened her neck and glared back at the sweating officer. She saw the oily perspiration on his face, the swampy patches darkening the armpits of his tunic, the bulging cords in his neck. Knowing she looked at least as wild and abandoned as the furiously hunching lieutenant, she grinned savagely.
Linda looked carnivorous. She showed her teeth in a grimace of lust and revulsion. She churned her hips like the dasher in an overloaded washing machine. She squeezed the base of his prick with a vise-like cuntal grip. The redhead whipped her long hair back from her face with a flick of her neck. "Ahhhrghhh!" she snarled, and accelerated.
Even the brutal fury of the lieutenant's cockthrusts was nothing compared to the sloshing, churning, hipswinging speed of Linda's cunty contortions. The chain between her ankles flogged against the shins of his high boots. The sweatslick surfaces of her ass made his fingers skid. Her tits bounced and jiggled like Jell-o creatures trying to break free of her body. The coral-pink tips of her tits were only a widening blur. Linda whipped her ass up, down, sideways, like a dervish. She felt his cock tense. The slap-slap-slap of his balls against her ass stopped. His nuts drew up into a tight mass at the base of his prick.
Linda felt victory, a victory as cruel and painful as the first cherry-rupturing stab of his prick into her twat. She fought on, the glove-soft walls of her cunt stripping the nerves in his prick. The lieutenant's eyes went wide, then squeezed shut. He grunted like a feeding bear.
The assaulting stabs of his rape tool slowed. Linda speeded her hips. Two frothing rotations of her ass whirled cuntflesh around each shuddering stroke of his prick. Three ... four swampy motions to his one. Linda's chains clanked like a hundred maltuned bells.
Her shoulders were ripping. The skin at her wrists sliced to ribbons. Pain and hate and anger filled her, rising on the crest of tension in her cunt.
With a blast like a ton of dynamite, a fantastic explosion hit her cunt. The thrust of the lieutenant's cock blasted past the end of her womb. Linda knew his seed was spewing deep in her cunt.
The gutwrenching power of her orgasm numbed her. The hot trail of slime on her thigh couldn't be anything but his jizz. Linda didn't care. The fury in her mind fueled the incredible bursts of energy in her cunt, and shattering waves of orgasm flashed throughout her body.
Her vision blurred. Linda forgot the lieutenant, forgot the prison, forgot the cock that still pumped sperm into her cunthole. She felt the marvelous release of her cuntal tension, and that was all that mattered, at the end. She rode the pulses for long, long seconds, and everything was peaceful within her at last.
CHAPTER THREE
A horrible suction dragged at her guts. Linda moaned, then realized it was Lieutenant Guiterrez' prickhead sliding down the come-clenched walls of her cunt.
The meaty suction of her cuntwalls around his glans was pulling her inside out. "Oohhhaughhh!" she groaned, her mouth falling open. The wide flare of his knob popped sickeningly through the slick band of muscle at the mouth of her pussy. He released her hips. Linda dropped away from his groin, her bruised buttocks slapping wetly against the clammy stone wall. Warm semen spilled down her abused thighs. Linda was too weak to stand. She dangled, her long hair cascading across her face. Her green eyes were glazed, barely focussing on the lieutenant's face.
Lieutenant Guitierrez hitched his jodphurs up, stuffing his wilting prick away. "Now you will tell me," he said, drawing himself up into parade-rest. "You have seen only the smallest beginning of what can happen if you do not reveal your contact."
The handcuffs felt like razors digging into the outside edge of her palms. Linda tried to control her legs, pulling herself upright with her chained hands. Her knees felt like weak soup. She got just enough control of her body to stand, her feet six inches apart. The ache in her shoulders, the searing, slicing pain in her wrists eased. She stared mutely at the lieutenant.
His question couldn't sink into her numbed brain. Linda saw the cavalry boots, the sunbleached uniform, the relaxed stance of the man, and could not comprehend why he still stood before her. Semen was turning sticky on her thigh. She felt the raw, torn nerves and tissues at the mouth of her vagina and the red heat of blood all through her crotch. She took a long, shaky breath.
The motion made her shrinking clitty tingle. The single trickle of sensation was enough to remind her of the obscene fullness, the totally abasing violation of her body. She closed her eyes tightly and turned her head to the side, trying to wipe the lieutenant's image from her mind and body. "Aowww," she whimpered.
"You do not choose to answer?" Lieutenant Guitierrez said. "Very well, Miss Martin. I shall return shortly." He turned sharply as only a petty tyrant can and stomped out of the cell. The footsteps of Mendoza and Villareal joined him in the corridor, leaving Linda Martin alone with her shame.
Death and fear and self-disgust dominated her thoughts as surely as the Cuban chains dominated her body. Linda willed her heart to stop beating. She wept and screamed like a madwoman. The tall, lovely, despoiled teenager flung the back of her head against the stone wall, trying to dash her brains out. Her solid Ohio upbringing told Linda it had to be a fatal flaw in herself that had put her in the cell, locked her in the chains. She was worse than worthless ... she was depraved. Linda thought of her parents, her classmates, everyone who'd ever trusted or respected her. She could never face any of them again.
Linda tried to kill herself. It was the only way out. Sometime during the furious fucking Guitierrez had forced her into, she'd begun to enjoy it, and that made her unfit to live. Linda knew she was lower than any human could be and survive. She felt the drying slime on her thighs, and knew she was slimier than the semen that glued her cunthairs together. She held her breath until spots obscured her vision. Her limbs went slack. A t last, she thought, sinking into a buzzing haze of red-black.
The knife-edge pain in her wrists brought her back. It hadn't worked. When she fainted her breathing began again, foiling her plan. There had to be another way.
Linda pressed her back to the clammy stone blocks. The sunlit square had crept across the floor to the front of the cell.
The cell was bare, blank save for another hook in the opposite wall and the ancient steel plate of the door. Linda felt a curious calm, like the calm of total fatigue, come over her. Even though she knew it was useless, she searched the floor of the cell for anything that could help her die.
Yes, Linda thought, it happened when I started fighting back, whenlworked at tearing him apart. I let my body betray me. He forced me, but I wound up trying to force him. I acted like an animal, like I'm no better than Guitierrez. That's why I have to die. Linda nodded as if there were someone there to agree with her. The frantic struggle at the end of the fucking came back to her, and she involuntarily arched her hips forward. Her head lolled back again as it had when her passivity ended. She knew how to kill herself.
Linda grinned, gritting her teeth at the pain in her wrists. It was simple, really. She drew her knees uj and forward. She planted her feet solidly against the wall. She strained back until the vulnerable column of her throat was stretched to the fullest. Even the ache in her arms eased. She smiled, serene as some Buddha, and kicked off from the wall.
Her luscious breasts stretched further, flattening until the tips were like pink towers. Linda swung forward and up, her hair streaming behind her. She dragged her chained ankles up into a tight tuck and fell back toward the wall. She would end the shame, the abuse, the pain in one second. The satisfying rush as her body accelerated toward the stone blocks relaxed her completely. Her grin widened. Limp, her head fell forward onto her chest. The blocks slammed her shoulders. The back of Linda's head bounced off the wall. The bitter shame of frustration and failure overwhelmed her.
Metal scraped. Linda looked up. Light and the sound of Lieutenant Guitierrez' voice hit her simultaneously. "Miss Martin?" the lieutenant asked. "You are ready for more questioning?" He gestured to the soldiers behind him. They materialized in the cell and plucked her from the floor.
Linda wanted to buckle like wet cardboard, but she struggled to her feet. She let herself be frog marched through the corridor, watching the shifting shadows of herself and her captors grow and shrink on the ill-lit walls.
They stopped on another level, half a flight of stairs and several hundred yards from the cell she'd been left in. The door in front of her was so old that the hand-hewn timbers had blackened. Lieutenant Guitierrez stepped in front of her and unlocked the cuffs and leg irons before opening the door. Linda rubbed her hands together, trying to make her arms work at her command again. The two soldiers took positions on either side of the door. The lieutenant opened the door and ushered her in.
Linda was shamefully aware of her nakedness when she stepped onto the heavy Oriental rug. She tried to hang back, crossing her hands in front of her. Lieutenant Guitierrez pulled her into the room, bringing her face to face with a jowly, much-decorated officer behind a huge desk. The senior officer's lizard-like eyes blinked twice, lazily, before the lieutenant spoke. "Mi Coronel, esta es la rebelde Norteamericana."
"Bueno," the colonel said, raising his hand in a perfunctory fraction of a salute. His eyes followed Guitierrez out of the room before returning to Linda's disheveled, stillerotic form. His expression never changed as he took in the bruises, the cuts, the bloodstains on her fair skin. At least thirty seconds passed. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He finally looked away.
Linda hadn't realized she held her breath until she let a sigh of relief gust out. "I want to see the Amer-" she began.
The colonel slammed his hand on the desk top with a pistol-crack sharpness. "Silence!" He glared across the few feet separating him from Linda. "You are not entitled to speak!
Linda cringed back, raising her hands in protection. For the first time she saw the glass-fronted rack of guns on the wall behind the colonel. A snake-like coil of black leather on the desk caught her eye. She gulped. A five-foot length of slender darkness stood in the corner, a black cord trailing from its tip. Linda swiveled her head. The room was dark and bare behind her. Heavy manacles and iron devices that looked old enough to have been used by the conquistadors lay on a low table near the edge of the rug. She wanted to back away from the colonel, but whatever unseen horror might lurk behind kept her in place.
"Look at me." The colonel's voice was as flat and deadly as his dispassionate eyes. "I am considered skillful. You will tell me whatever I ask." His bulky shoulders and scarred, moon-like face filled Linda's vision. Goosepimples stood up all over Linda. She nodded.
"Who was your contact?" The colonel didn't look at Linda after he asked the question. He slowly stood up and hefted the coils of the black snake whip.
"I ... I came with my friends. I didn't know-" Linda stammered. The whip curled out in a long line and flicked her naked belly with aloud "CRACK!" The sound alone made her jump back. Only the tip had touched her skin, and a flash of fire on her belly blossomed in pain.
The colonel coiled the whip again. "Ten thousand American dollars is too much for tourists to carry. I have already checked with your compatriots in the ... exporting ... business. They know nothing of you." He stretched his lips in a travesty of a smile. "What can a poor simple Cuban think except that you were going to join the rebels?"
The colonel walked around the desk. He stared down at the tableful of torture implements and asked, "What do you know about the owner of the shop where you took cover?" He nearly made a choice, like a plump matron debating over a box of chocolates, then moved away from the table. "He turned for us less than a week ago. Los Castristos found out just this evening. He probably saved your life today, but your Communist friends murdered him. What is the point of protecting such ones?"
Linda's mind raced. She knew Judy was dead, but that was all she knew. Loyalty to her lover-friend made her resolve to tell Batista's officers nothing. She thought of the places they'd been that morning (was it only a morning ago?) and wondered if she could pinpoint one, any one, and bargain for her own freedom. She shook her head.
The colonel took the long, thin buggy whip from the corner. He watched the frayed end of the silk cord pop softly as he made fly,-casting motions with the long handle. "A strange coincidence that you should pick that particular hotel. Your own government has told us about the owner, about his long stay in Mexico. Why were you and your ... friends staying there?"
Linda shrugged, trying to keep the fear from her face. That little thing can't possibly hurt like the bullwhip, she told herself. "My ... my parents recommended it. They stayed there on their honeymoon," she lied.
The tip of the limber steel rod whistled. The silk popped against Linda's cheekbone. "UNHHH!" she grunted. The eye on that side filled with tears. It's not that bad, she thought, biting her lower lip.
"Please, Miss Martin," the colonel said softly. His voice was becoming breathy. "I am a lie detector. You mustn't try to fool me."
"They stayed there, they did," she protested. The limber little whip flicked again, the tip moving only a few inches. The end of the cord slashed from the edge of her labia to the outside of her thigh.
An angry welt was already rising. It felt like liquid fire painted carefully along her skin, touching her pussy. She looked up at the colonel again. The first sign of interest showed on his face. The pencil-thin butt of the whip rested between his thumb and two blunt fingertips. The silk cord trailed along the floor from where the shaft rested on the rug. "I'm not a rebel ... I don't know anything about Castro ... about anything in Cuba!" Linda whimpered. "Please, please, Colonel, just let me go!" Her face, her whole body, pleaded with him. Her hands rose in a half-prayer, and Linda took a step toward him.
So fast she hardly saw it, the whip slashed up from the rug. The end of the cord popped softly just at the top of her cuntal crease. "AIEE!" Linda screamed, throwing her shoulders back reflexively. Her hips snapped forward in an instantaneous pelvic thrust, offering her cunt to the searing touch of the whip. She held the position for a split-second, then covered her pussy with both hands and tried to shrink away. "Oh, God, please! No, Colonel, please!"
The heavyset colonel smiled for the first time, an oily, sinister smirk that promised more pain. Chills ran along Linda's skin even as heat in her loins followed the stinging pain in her pussy. "Tell me who, tell me when, tell me where," he hissed.
"I can't! I don't know!" Linda wailed. She shook with deep, gut-twisting terror. The rising heat in her pussy scared her almost as much as the slow, step-by-step advance of the colonel, and the colonel scared her witless.
Flick! Flick! Flick! Three short, sharp movements of the colonel's hand tweaked her nipples, her hands, her belly with the end of the whip. Linda's arms moved a fraction of a second behind each shocking slash, too slow to shield her from the bite of the innocent-looking silk cord. It was like a bombardment of flaming match-heads on her most sensitive spots.
"Who!" Flick! the corner of her mouth blazed with pain.
"When!" Flick! the left side of her pussy stung.
"Where!" Flick-flick! the top and bottom of her left breast were sliced open.
Linda turned and ran, but the room was only twenty feet long. The snake-tongue slashes of the whip crisscrossed her buttocks, her thighs, her back. The icy sweat of terror dripped onto her welts, fueling the fires that ate into her skin. She reached the wall and huddled into a fetal crouch.
It was useless. The strokes became deliberate, moving here and there with graduated intensity.
Linda jerked and quivered under the skinny braid. The back of her neck, her shoulders, her buttocks felt the white-hot caress of the whip again and again. Kinda knew without looking that the colonel stood over her, picking each spot before lazily laying a razor-thin line of pain along her body. She pulled herself tighter into her defensive ball, pressing her forehead and knees against the stone wall. Linda gasped and whimpered, squealing at each touch of the whip.
It had seemed haphazard at first, but Linda soon saw the gruesome method. Each fresh stripe on her skin was planned to surprise her. No two strokes landed on the same spot. Once the tip would pop a flower of red pain onto her ribs. Next, the whole braid would wrap cruelly around her ankle or thigh, leaving a line of bare-peeled blood and muscle and raw nerve ends. Her asscheeks were a latticework of blazing red lines. The tip of the narrow cord could insinuate itself around her arm and bite her titty, or pop numbing pain into the quivering ring of her asshole. Linda choked on tears.
The plan changed slowly. The strokes of the whip strayed less. The tip of that obscenely nimble silk cord kept finding new routes across her skin to the base of her pussy. Linda clenched her asscheeks. Was that blood flowing from the welts on her labia, or was it juice bubbling fresh from her abused cunt? Linda wished the colonel would go back to punishing her.
Her body was doing it again, preparing to betray her. Linda's sobs changed. More bitterness and self-disgust sounded in her voice than pain. She hated herself, cursed her body, loathed the erogenous warmth that the silk-tipped whip lewdly elicited from her cunt. She wept at the deadly realization that the whip's caresses aroused her as skillfully and surely as had Judy's tongue. By the time she realized the fact of her cunty heat, it had passed beyond titillation. Dread and excitement mingled in her mind. Linda realized the pain could make her come.
The colonel reveled in the sadistic power he held over Linda. His lips curled back from his teeth in a bizarre grimace of twisted lust. He lingered longer between strokes, watching the ripple of her flesh tightening in anticipation, then slashing the whip across her buttocks when the muscles relaxed. He was like a long-caged cat visiting years of stored torment on a single battered mouse. He stood ten feet away, letting the long handle and the skinny lash reach swiftly to raise welts on her ass or draw flecks of blood from her back and thighs.
Like an undermatched prizefighter trying to give a crowd its money's worth, he spun out the punishment as long as he could. The tip of the cord danced on Linda's skin. With a gesture as obscenely delicate as a painter putting a gleam in a portrait's eye, the colonel flicked the whipsilk to tear a half-dozen hairs from Linda's tangled red mane, then resumed inflaming her pussy. He selected the spots carefully, teasing more warmth into the base of her mons. The undercreases of her asscheeks glowed red with the repeated touch of the lash, and the tiny puckered dot of her rectum blushed to the same shade as her overheated cuntmouth.
Linda found the waiting between strokes worse than the cutting slashes themselves. Where would he strike, and when? Would the cord curl around her, or would it give that whispering "pop" that meant a starburst of agonizing pain? At the end of the whip, at the end of her rope, Linda knew it was useless to resist. Even hiding her face in her arms did no good ... the snaky tip of the cord could still flash to cut her lips or curl around to slice viciously at her forehead. Though she jerked with every measured blow, Linda slowly uncoiled from her huddled position.
The colonel loved the sight of the tall, naked redhead acceding to his expert torture. He struck at her arms, and they went slack. He curled the lash around her thigh, and Linda's legs uncoiled. She rolled slowly onto her back and stared at him. Her green eyes pleaded dully.
And pleaded for more. Linda let her legs fall apart, and the colonel devoured the open vulnerability of her loins with his eyes. He took nibbles of her cunthair with the delicate whip, then sampled the firm, fleshy delight of her full bosom with the fraying end of the silk cord. His thick neck bulged over the collar of his tunic. The colonel strode closer.
Linda looked up at an aroused figure of relentless power. She drew her knees up, offering the abused slot of her pussy to him. Her mouth opened in a gasp when the silk lash trailed across her thigh. Linda closed her eyes and rolled her hips forward when the feathery touch slid along the side of her cuntmound. She was aroused enough to want another whip slash across her pussy. The burning weals on her ass and thighs had heated her cunt until the whole copper-haired region around her pussy sopped with cream. As she lay waiting for the next stroke of the colonel's whip, she thought, I'd do anything, anything for-"N-n-nooo!" she moaned, frightened by the enormity of the thought.
A jolt like a welder's arc blazed in her cunt. Linda's hips snapped off the floor, thrusting toward the whip before she even heard the silky noise of the tip popping. The sharp spear of pain that arrowed into her cunt shocked her whole body into instant rigidity. Linda let her hips down again.
Another lash at her cunt made her buck again. The dreadfully sweet agony around her clit made a balloon of cunty heat swell in her belly. She knew that the release couldn't be long in coming. The pain was a hundred times sharper than the ripping of her cherry had been, a thousand times as arousing as the first cuntal kiss from Judy's sucking lips.
The next stroke was torture worse than any of the beating so far. The lash hit the outside of her cuntlips, popping so precisely, so sharply, that only a ripple of flesh caressed her clit. Again, down the other side of her red-furred pussy, then across the top of the vee. Linda moaned, feeling the near-climax heat in her pussy fading. She rotated her hips lewdly, inviting that harsh silk cord to slice her clit to orgiastic ribbons. She felt the edge of cunty frustration bringing its dull, ugly chill into her loins, and she wanted to cry. "I won't tell you ... I'll never tell you anything?' she screamed, frothing. She glared defiantly up at the colonel. Linda grabbed the back of each knee in her hands and dragged her thighs up against her tits. "Never!" she shouted.
The colonel grinned voraciously. He began whipping her cunt again. His flushed face and the ring of sweat at his collar showed his excited arousal as much as the rigid lump in his pants. He didn't bother with artistic strokes or fine touches. He slashed at the red-haired, red-meated center of her gash like a madman. He cursed vilely in Spanish.
Linda writhed under the whip like a woman possessed. She felt the fiery stimulation forcing her blood to rush faster in her loins. The whole wide cradle of her pelvis was congested, full of cuntcream and heat and the incredible steamy simmering of her cunt. She rocked back onto her shoulders, and the end of the flailing whip sliced ribbons of torchy heat along her ass. Even the ring of her rectum ripped with the lashing. She had to turn her head to the side as the colonel stepped closer. The cord sliced up between her thighs, branding her belly with vertical stripes.
The colonel tore at his pants with his left hand and flogged furiously at her cunt with his right. A bloated, purple-tipped length of cock appeared, jutting up like a howitzer. The whole knob was smeared with pre-come juice. It looked as brutal and evil as the colonel's snarling face. Spit flecked his lips, spraying onto Linda's ass and thighs as he spattered her with curses.
The metal rod itself beat against her cunt, and Linda started to come. The silk cord was tattered from slashing at her skin, frayed larger than a half-dollar at the tip. The handle was as limber as a fly casting rod, and it bent to deliver a stinging slash from her clit to her rectum with each frenzied motion of the colonel's arm.
Linda was coming harder with every second of the beating. Her hips rolled like a stormy ocean. Her cleavage was scarlet from the thrashing of the lash. Her cuntmouth winked open and shut with each shattering pulse of her orgasm. The merciless rise and fall of the whip slowed, then stopped, and Linda faced the colonel again.
The whip flew across the room as he ripped the buckle of his gunbelt open. The holster hit the floor like a lead weight. High boots, tunic, necktie and all, the colonel knelt on the floor between her legs.
Linda felt hot, sweating hands on her ass. She tried to control the pulsating convulsions of her cunt. He raised her ass higher. She rested on her shoulders and the back of her head. With a hammering, piledriver impact, his cockhead burst past her cuntmouth and plumbed her guts.
Linda screamed with shock, terror and ecstasy. She squirmed, milking hot, simmering cunflesh around his prick. The barreling momentum of his first fuck thrust carried his engorged knob past her womb like a bludgeon. The numb shock at the center of her loins stopped her for the space of one frantic heartbeat, then her hips rotated in a faster frenzy than she'd ever felt.
The colonel's belly battered her cuntmound. His prick sloshed back and forth like a stallion's, reaming her hole wider. The constant, mind-warping waves of Linda's orgasm kept her cunt clamped down around his meaty rod like a vise. She wailed and babbled, begging him in Egnlish. He cursed and foamed back at her in Spanish.
They rolled across the floor, battling with the fury of Linda's come and the colonel's inflamed balls. The sweaty, hairy mass of his sac flogged against the whipstripes on her ass, and the sweat burned. The scratchy bush at the base of his massive cock scraped her raw clit like sandpaper. Pain and gasping, grasping, groaning cuntal pleasure racked her. Linda knew her shoulders were bruising, knew her cunt was aching, but her ongoing come blotted the fear out. She wrestled with the colonel, daring him to stop and daring him to continue. The whole world was nothing but a huge cock wrapped in a boiling cunt.
The colonel grunted. He went stiff all over. Linda worked her cunt feverishly against him. She rolled and swiveled. She pounded her fists against his back. She dug her fingernails into his ass. That bulky belly against her cunt was hard as rock. She refused to let him slow down.
Bouncing, jiggling, straining with the blurring speed of a totally released woman, she stripped the nerves from his prick. Linda kept moving when his tension slacked, then milked his prick harder when a pulse went through him again. She worked three viciously hard spurts of come from his cock, then lost count. Linda slowed enough to match his remaining thrusts. She threw her cunt up at him, then ground her belly into his. With a superhuman effort, she pulled back until only that massive knob was still in her cunt. She hung there, dead to everything but the swelling flange of his cockhead, and waited. Every nerve in her body screamed.
"FFFUUUCKK!!!" she wailed, and slammed against the colonel again. The delayed waves of her orgasm came harder, harder, harder. She couldn't stop. The colonel was dead weight above her. He let her slide down. Her ass touched the floor again. Still Linda went on fucking back at his prick. She rolled and rippled, scratched and clawed, until the darkness at the bare end of the torture room swallowed her up. Even though she'd passed out from the sheer intensity of her orgasm, her body went on and on until the colonel's prick had faded to a limber ghost of its former size and slipped greasily out of her drooling pussy.
After a long while, Linda woke again in the corridor outside the office. "Back to the cell," Lieutenant Guitierrez smirked, snapping the cuffs on her wrists again. The soldiers picked her up, and Linda's heart sank.
I've got to get out of here ... but how? How!
CHAPTER FOUR
The numbness that hit as she was led back to the cell stopped every thought but the single idea of escape. Linda wanted to get away before her battered, abused body betrayed her again, but the combination of the colonel's interrogation and the post-fucking dullness of her mind scarcely left enough energy to plan. She didn't look at the walls, the side corridors, the soldiers ... she didn't look at anything but her feet and the floor in front of them.
A panicky, trapped-squirrel part of her mind tempted her to laugh. She knew she should be ashamed of her nakedness when they passed other groups in the hallways but she had a deeper, more shameful secret that made her exposed body seem positively modest.
Bitter as bile inside her was the knowledge that she'd enjoyed the whip and the furious, brutal fucking in the colonel's office. She shook her head quickly to clear her mind, but the tightened grip of hands on her arms made her stop. She walked passively behind the lieutenant until they reached her cell again.
The sun had gone down while she was in the colonel's chamber. The light from the corridor showed only the wrought-iron hook, nearly seven feet off the floor. Resigned for the moment, weary to her bones, Linda let the soldiers slip her handcuff-chain onto the hook and leave. Rest ... I just need to rest until I can think, she told herself. The heavy door closed with a doomed finality.
It was dark, but not any cooler in the dark cell then when she'd left. Linda wasn't sure if she was dozing or fainting. Once in a while she lost consciousness, which at least relieved her growing thirst and the gnawing hunger at the pit of her stomach.
The inages in her brief dreams were no relief. Tanks and jeeps and huge fireballs of explosions mingled with thoughts of Judy alive and Judy dead. Linda was water, lakes and oceans that would swallow her in cool blue-green and mountains of succulent fruits, but always the violence and pain surrounded everything. Then all would go dark, and the pain in her limbs told her that she was still alive, standing with eyes open.
How very strange, she thought. Is this what dying is like? I can only see with my eyes closed-it's pitch-dark with them open!
I have to get out of here. Maybe Maxine is s till in the city. Even if she isn't, I can wire home and....
What? No, not home! I ... no, not when they find out....
But I don't want to die! It's differentwhen it's a choice ... it's all right then. I won't let them kill me here!
Linda peered into the dark. She couldn't tell where the door was now. She tried to bend her hands toward each other, hoping to find the chain of the handcuffs. Her fingers were too numb to feel anything. Only the resistance in her wrists told her when her fingers hit one another. She went on tiptoe and threw her hands upward.
The chain rattled. Linda flicked her wrists up again. A metallic scraping came through the cuffs and grated down her arms. Was the chain about to slip off the top of the hook? She extended her arms to full height and flexed her knees. She was drawn tight as a fiddle string.
She snnalpdher knees straight. Her shoulders scraped on the wall. The cuffs were free! Linda was rejoicing, still off the ground at the peak of her jump. Pain! Pain nearly severed her right hand. The wristlet of the cuffs jerked at her arm again. The point of the wrought-iron hook had speared between her wrist and the handcuff. She dangled, caught higher than before. He left heel barely touched the floor, and the yank at her arm had drawn her right leg up in a spasm of reflexive defense.
It hurt terribly. Her whole weight had snapped onto he right shoulder. Her elbow felt as if a huge hammer had slammed against the bone. Linda tasted blood in her mouth. She stifled a grunt. She let her left arm dangle on the chain, swinging on a high diagonal arc as she went on tiptoe again.
She flopped her wrist experimentally. The heavy iron point went halfway up the back of her hand. She knew she couldn't jump far enough to free herself, not with the tiny slack in her arm when she stood on the toes of one foot.
Feeling returned to her left hand, first the pins-and-needles of restored circulation, then the dull ache of unused, swollen joints. She rested as best she could. Linda waited for her heart to stop pounding. She dredged throughts from deep in her mind, reaching for the solution. Even with stone walls and solid iron doors between her and the outside of the prison, the two inches of hook that had passed through the handcuff was the most important thing in her life. Her failure at suicide paled beside the joy and frustration that he first jump had caused. She pushed her right hand up, and the steel cuff slid further onto the hook. Her wrist was drapped higher. There was no slack in her body.
Linda rubbed the fingertips of her left hand together. She could feel them ... not well, but she could feel the pressure of skin against skin. The three inches of chain linking the cuffs allowed her to swing her left hand from slightly in front of the hook to the wall and back again. The cuff on her left wrist slipped around, recutting the raw line, but the right cuff was jammed solid. I'd better do it before I start passing out again, she decided. Linda took a deep breath.
The swelling flex of her ribs made the cuff tighten. The muscle in her calf ached. She exhaled, pushing all the air out of her lungs, and gained perhaps a quarter-inch. Linda turned her left hand around and grasped her right wrist. Her knees drew up as she pulled herself of the floor.
Every ounce of her strength went into the straining muscles of her arms. Linda trembled, weak as water. She wanted to stop, to gather energy for another try, but knew that her fatigued arms would never regain the strength that was ebbing so rapidly. The tremble in her arms became a shudder. She found the hook with her left hand. Both arms tightened. She turned sideways, dangling from her right hand like a Christmass-tree ornament. Reaching up and across her body with her left hand, she pushed her right arm higher.
The handcuff moved up the hook! Linda felt the wrought iron crumbling, showering scales of rust into the raw slash around her wrist. She pushed at the steel ring with her left thumb, urging it higher, higher. Her elbows were bent just less than forty degrees. Her strength faded. She felt it leaving like water pouring from a leaky bucket, but the leaverage of muscle against bone improved as she dragged herself higher. Circulation was already returning to her right hand. Agony returned with it. From the wrist to the middle of her palm was an enormous ache, a pain as heavy and dull and relentless as a hammer-smashed molar. Her left hand started slipping, scales of ancient rust tearing her soft palm. Her pulse roared in her ears. Linda didn't dare breathe. Dread of falling back onto the cruel hook hit her like the lightning lance of pain the hook had sent up her arm. A skin-chilling jolt of adrenalin helped herself upward another inch. Her arm was free. Linda exulted. She felt in a heap at the base of the wall and sobbed with exhausted joy.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Linda froze. She held her breath until the confident crunch of boots died away. When the cell was silent again, she rubbed her ankles, checking the shackles that held her legs, how can I run with these? How can I get away? she wondered. I don't even know how to get out of the building!
She wondered if she should try the door. Linda waited for her overstrained muscles to stop trembling, then stood slowly. Her skin crawled with every scrape of the leg irons on the stone floor. Linda put her cuffed hands in front of her and felt for the wall. The door was not far from the far end of the tiny cell. She slid her feet carefully along the floor. The cell seemed much larger in the dark. She moved forward further and further. A half-remembered thought nagged at her. Handcuffs, handcuffs....
She touched the wall. Linda began moving to her left, patting for the corner. It was at a carnival. The magician had handcuffs, and Daddy said ... Yes! Linda touched the corner just as she remembered. Without an instant's hesitation, the tall redhead balled her fists and swung the handcuffs against the stone wall. The steel cuff on her right hand snapped open.
The footsteps in the corridor returned. A keyring jangled. Linda swore under her breath and snapped the cuff on her wrist again. As the heavy iron door scraped open she stepped back and sat down. Lieutenant Guitierrez stepped in with a soldier and another prisoner, a middle-aged man, behind him. "Ay, estaes una bruja, una 'Oudini!"he laughed, pointing to Linda. The soldier smiled, but the prisoner's face stayed stonily immobile. The lieutenant gestured sharply. "Come, we take you to see coronet Almieda once again."
This time, with the lietuenant and the other two men watching her, Linda was more aware of her aches and pains. In her hurry, she'd tightened the right handcuff too far, and it hurt her wrist nearly as much as when she'd been left on the hook. Every bloody dot from the colonel's whip, every bruise from the lieutenant's hands, even the tight, scaly smears of semen on her thighs hurt when Linda clanked into the corridor. "Lieutenant...." Linda began.
"Silence! The colonel has asked for you. You will be interrogated until you have told us all you know," Lieutenant Guitierrez snapped. With a smirk, he added, "We find our resources sometimes meet more than one need."
Linda was scared half to death by the lieutenant's cruel smile. The glint of some obscene anticipation showed in his eyes as he led the little party along the corridors. They bypassed the door where Linda thought the office was, and went up another flight of stairs. The door they finally stopped at was centuries newer then the portal to the colonel's office. Linda hung back after the soldier and the middle-aged prisoner had stepped in. "What ... what are you going to do to me?"
Lieutenant Guitierrez took the naked redhead's arm and pushed her into the room. He shoved her at the soldier, who tripped her. The shackles on her feet loosened. "Walk to the table," Guitierrez comannded.
It looked like a doctor's examining table without upholstery. The top was a single slab of stained wood growing out of a heavy metal base. "Lie down."
Linda lay down, her head turning from side to side. The lieutenant prodded her with his swagger stick. "On your face, Miss Martin." She rolled over reluctantly. Her heart was already pounding like a triphammer. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to sink right through the stained wood and melt through the floor. Hands grasped her ankles and pulled. With the cuffs still on her wrists, Linda tried grabbing the top edge of the table, but it was useless. She bent over the edge of the table, her asscheeks presented lewdly. A metallic click at each side trapped her ankles in looser clamps than she'd worn before, but there was no chance of escape. Her feet were nearly a yard apart. The lieutenant barked an order. The soldier undid the left handcuff and pulled it under the table. He pulled Linda's right hand down and relocked the cuffs. Now she hugged the table like a huge life preserver. "Please, this isn't funny," Linda said. "I didn't do anything!"
Colonel Almieda strolled in from the next room. A huge mirror covered all but the doorway in that wall, and Linda saw how abject, yet somehow erotic, her position was. "Ahhh, but you did! You conspired to aid the Marxists who are trying to take over Cuba. You worked to enslave our people, Miss Martin!"
"Please, Colonel this isn't fair! The lieutenant won't listen to me! I don't know who told you what, but I ... I'm just a tourist! Please, plesse let me go! I'll go straight back to Key West and fly home if you just let me go!"
"Prepare the man," Almieda said. Linda folowed his image in the mirror as Guitierrez and the soldier stripped the other prisoner naked. The colonel drew a tube from the breast pocket of his tunic. Linda felt a vulgar revulsion crawl along her flesh as a thick, greasy finger smeared a jelly-like lubricant along her asscleft. The colonel slipped two fingers into her vagina and massaged the dry hole with obscene lasciviousness.
Linda gritted her teeth. She willed her body not to respond. That heavy, gluey slime on the colonel's finger felt much thicker, more revolting than cunt juice. Her pussy began to lubricate around the sliding fingers in spite of her wishes. Linda tried clenching her asscheeks together, but the colonel's thumb eased into the cleft with a slippery motion, then pressed against the ring of her anus.
Linda wanted to gag. At first when the lieutenant, then the colonel, had handled her pussy, she'd been afraid. Her virginity was gone now, along with most of her modesty, but having a thumb writhing so degradingly into her ass was the ultimate indignity. She felt defiled, filthy, as if there were no reason in the world to live now. The burden of her shame crushed her down onto the table until she involuntarily let her buttocks go slack. That obscene fullness in her rectum disapperared. Linda heayed a sigh of relief.
Guitierrez and the soldier led the prisoner to the head of the table. The colonel spoke for them, but the sadistic gleam in the lieutenant's eyes told Linda that he'd had a hand in planning whatever was about to happen. She looked at the tight thong of leather knotted at the base of the man's cock and her pussy hurt in sympathy.
"You see this man in front of you, Miss Martin?" Almieda asked. "He will not lose his erection for a long time, not with that cord around him. I want you to see him and realize how he is tied. You see how the cord disappears between his legs? It is attached to his handcuffs. He must bend backward to relieve the strangulation of his penis. If you answer us, we will let him go. If you do not ... well, his wife can prostitute herself to feed the children." Almieda smiled broadly. "She is not very attractive. Who knows what could happen to such a one?"
Linda closed her eyes tight, but the image f the naked frightened-looking man, and especially his swollen, blood-gorged cock, stayed in her vison. "What do you want to know?" she quavered.
"You already know the questions. Just answer them," the colonel said. "Tell us here you were to meet the rebel contact, and who he is."
Linda thought, I'll lie ... they won't know. I'll tell them something, and they'll let him go. She cast about in her memory, trying to remember a Cuban-sounding name. Her mind was blank!
Linda got panicky. "Uuhh ... His name ... I don't know his real name, but he said his name was ... Frank." Damn! That doesn't sound good!
With a whistling roar, heavy strap lashed across the backs of Linda's thighs. "Aiee!" she screamed. The bound man in front of her looked ready to pass out.
"Frank what?" Guitierrez asked. He popped the strap in the air.
Linda looked wildly toward the mirror and saw the lieutenant's arm already cocked for the next blow. "Pie .. pie something, Frank Pie-"
Slash! Another double-handed stroke of the strap set fire to the whole of her left asscheek. Linda jerked at her bonds in a spasm of pain. She got just far enough off the table to pinch her breasts cruelly when she fell forward again. Her nipples were trapped, and pointing up toward her shoulders.
"Don't lie, Miss Martin," Colonel Almieda said softly. "Frank Pais has been dead a long while."
Yes, and no one but a leftist would know his name," Guitierrez added He laid four harsh strokes of the strap across Linda's ass, covering half of one cheek with each slap. Even the soft indentation of her cuntmouth felt the heat and pain of the blows.
Linda gasped for air. Tears ran down her cheeks. The whole area from her thighs to the small of her back felt like it was on fire. The smaller cuts and welts of the buggy whip awakened and added their own clamoring pain to the heat of her skin. "He said it was his name," Linda wept. "That's what he told me!" She stared up at the colonel, then at the throbbing purple head of the other prisoner's trapped cock.
"At least she admits to having a contact," the soldier volunteered. "What about this one?"
Linda turned her head to the side. She closed her eyes. An exact stroke down the center of her asscleft stung, and she bolted upright as far as she could. "Watch the prisoner," the lieutenant said. "You're killing him by lying to us."
The pain in her pussy and her ass was incredible. The last blow of the strap had caught the rim of her asshole and pulled it downward, almost tearing the little ring away. The grease on her rectum and pussylips seemed to amplify the sting, smothering the skin that needed a bath of cool air. Linda felt her cuntlips swelling up after the impact. She begged silently for relief.
"Yes, this one might be of some help," the colonel mused. "Take him around behind her." , At least he's not watching my face, Linda thought. The resigned sadness of the man's eyes made her feel guilty, as if she truly were responsible for his arrest and his bondage. He looks like he expects to die here! Linda marveled. He's not even fighting back!
"Now, Miss Martin, would you like to tell us the real name of your contact?" the colonel asked. Almieda stared down at Linda for a moment, then grabbed a fistful of long red hair and pulled her head up.
Linda's scalp and neck crawled with agonizing pain. It felt like the colonel wanted to tear her head off. "He said Frank ... Frank Pais!" she whimpered. The colonel yanked her hair forward, chopping off Linda's next words. The impact of her chin against the table nearly knocked her out. Linda bit a shred of flesh out of her cheek, and the chewed portion swelled from the chin-blow, and when that faded, tears blurred everything in the room ... everything but Almieda's voice and the next slashing stroke of the lash.
"Where? Where were you to meet?" the colonel asked. His raspy voice was growing louder, with th same breathy overtones he'd showed when he began torturing her with the limber silk buggy whip. He gestured, and Guitierrez swung the strap.
The red heat of pain in her crotch merged with the heavy sound of a wounded moan. Linda didn't realize i hadn't been hers until she saw the reflection of the prisoner. The man hobbled back and forth. A raw welt along the side of his glossy-hard cock showed where the strap had hit. Every time he convulsively tried to grab for his prick, the cord around the base tightened Every tug on the cord made him bend backward, and his injured cock stood out further and straighter from his belly. A weepy line of blood oozed from the side of his shaft. The strap had barely broken the skin over one of the swollen veins, and the fresh blood was bright against the darkening reddish-purple of his cock.
Empathy for the other prisoner's pain made Linda's pussy ache. The heat from the blows of the strap made the ache heighten until she felt the unmistakable trickle of cuntcream moistening her labia. She felt shame and self-hatred Linda wished they would kill her. Even lying to the Cuban officers didn't help ... they went on punishing her and the terrified prisoner anyway.
"Well, Miss Martin?" the colonel asked. "Don't think we will grow tired enough to kill either of you. I have rested and eaten since we saw one another last. Where were you to join the rebels?"
Linda watched Guitierrez raise the strap high, ready to slash down across the rigid spear of the prisoner's cock. "The taxi! The taxidriver was going to take me to them!"
The colonel nodded and Guitierrez slashed two more strokes down the exact center of Linda's ass. She jerked and sobbed. "Please! Oh, God, please, Colonel! I told you! It was the taxi driver!"
Almieda jerked his head. Linda watched the mirror in fascinated revulsion. Guitierrez pushed the prisoner up against the table, shoving his shoulders with the heel of his hand. The man winced, then arched his back reflexively. Linda felt the hard heat of his strangling prick jab against her tailbone. She hugged the table closer.
The grease in her ass cleft made the touch loathsome. A chill went up her spine, and Linda felt her nipples begin to throb. No! Not with them looking on! My God, they will! They're going to watch! "Colonel! I can't! Please, for the love of Christ, Colonel!" she sobbed. Linda squeezed her eyelids together until her nose and forehead wrinkled with the effort. The trickle of juice in her pussy became a river. The degraded notion of having the prisoner fuck her while her captors looked on aroused her body incredibly. Linda shook her head.
Guitierrez was gesturing and whispering to the prisoner. Linda felt the colonel grab her hair again. She opened her eyes. Her head twisted painfully toward the mirror. They were going to do it, there was no doubt. She tried to move her ass from side to side, evading the approach of the prisoner's prick, but Guitierrez stopped her with a painful gouge of fingers into the soft glove of her left asscheek.
The knob of the prisoner's cock felt horribly hard, like a stone helmet at the end of his meat. Linda felt it stab against her pussy. Her vagina gushed warmth. The knob slid up to the narrow slot between her holes, then pushed against the whip-bruised oval of her rectum. Linda picked herself higher on the table. The cockhead moved up with her. The realization hit.
"NO-OOOO!" she wailed, squirming back and forth like a trapped animal. "GAWD, NOOOOO!" Linda jerked her hips until her belly slapped up and down on the tabletop. She broke free of the lieutenant's ass-grip. The soldier moved down, blocking her view in the mirror, and held her. Both of his elbows dug into the small of her back.
She was imprisoned, with the dull ache of arms gouging into the muscles next to her spine. Linda kicked against the fixed shackles on the floor. She tried to hammer her handcuffs against the bottom of the table. The colonel grabbed her head in both hands. She tried to bite him. He wrestled until her face was toward the mirror again.
Guitierrez stood behind the prisoner, one hand on the man's shoulders. The lieutenant's other hand was at the small of the man's back. Linda couldn't stop watching. Guitierrez pulled the slack out of the cock-tying cord and pushed the prisoner forward. The enlisted man braced Linda's hips.
With a sudden lance of pain that pierced to her guts, the head of the prisoner's cock found her asshole again and shoved against it. Linda screamed.
The laughter of Colonel Alieda and the muttered curses of the lieutenant assaulted her ears. Linda was on fire, a fire of agony that started in her asshole and tore clear up to her brain.
"Take it, Miss Martin! Maybe you will stop giving us your shitty lies when this peasant's cock rams your shit back in you!" Almieda laughed again and released her head.
Linda screamed louder. The whole tight ring of her rectum was being driven up into her guts. The tearing, ripping, utterly horrendous pain was all around her asshole, inside and out. It felt like a dull chisel was carving the band of muscle out. The pressure on her back added to the pain when the enlisted man bore down, leaning to watch the penetration.
The pressure against her asshole eased for a moment. Linda relaxed the agonized tightness of her sphincter. She pushed futilely outward, as if she could shove the prisoner's cock away by an act of will.
Guitierrez reached around the prisoner with one hand and put his fingers in her asscleft. Linda wept at the abusive touch. He spread the tissues of her rectum wider. She saw that his knee was braced against the prisoner's buttocks. She let her ass-forcing push against the cockhead slacken for an instant.
Rock-hard cockmeat shoved against her asshole. Before Linda could even think to loosen the automatic grip of her ass, half the blunt knob was already shoved into her ass. The top and bottom edges of her rectum were ripping wide open. Her cunt ached with frustration, drooling wetness while the prisoner's prick invaded the wrong hole. She almost cried out, "No, not there, please ... I need it in my pussy!"
The sensitive ring of her asshole felt an obscene slickness. It was the man's foreskin peeling back. The shoulders of the head felt slipperier when the hood retracted. Another fraction of cock slipped into her ass. Trying to ease the pain, Linda loosened her asshole. She pressed outward to let him enter more easily.
Guitierrez slipped his hand down until his forefinger was against one side of her asshole and his thumb against the other. He spread her further. Linda moaned.
The colonel wasn't content just to watch. He reached down the front of Linda's torso and captured the end of one of her tits. His sweaty hand found the bruised, beaten mound, then twisted the nipple. Linda gasped. She tried to squirm away from the throbbing ache of her tweaked nipple, and her ass moved back toward the prisoner.
The hard intrusion of prickmeat into her ass hurt terribly. Linda tried to move as sensuously, as erotically as she could. Maybe, she thought, maybe I can make him move gently ... maybe Guitierrez won't make him push quite so hard. Or maybe I could get my pussy up to him ... She wriggled, and another portion of cockhead slipped into her shitter.
It was splitting her ass wide open. Linda felt the pain of the insertion reaching higher in her ass, spreading clear to the outer edges of her buttocks. Even Almieda's brutal fucking had been easier on her than this. At least he used an orifice that Linda wanted filled ... even if he did have to whip them both into a frenzy first....
The widening head of the prisoner's cock seemed to go on forever. Linda wept, and the salty tears burned her cracked, parched lips. She couldn't even lever her ass around properly, not with the weight of the ogling enlisted man holding her belly to the table. She wondered if a faster piercing would hurt less ... if she could stop the pain by ramming her ass back against his cockhead.
It was hard to think, hard even to control her body with the lieutenant stretching her asshole with his fingertips and the colonel torturing her nipples. He'd managed to capture both of her titty-tips in one hand now, and he pulled them cruelly. He twisted and pinched. His fingernails traced furrows of fire on the sensitive rims. Linda wished they'd leave her alone, stop tormenting so many erotic nerves, at least until the prisoner's cock was lodged in her asshole. She moaned low in her confused overload of sensation. Linda was positive that her nipples gushed blood over the colonel's hands. The mauling in her tits hurt so badly that she almost forgot about her ass.
But Guitierrez and the prisoner hadn't forgotten. The lieutenant shifted his foot and shoved. With a sickening pop, the head of the prisoner's cock squirted the rest of the way into her ass. Linda felt the tearing agony of the penetration. She jerked spasmodically. Every muscle in her body went limp. The pressure eased at last. Now she was only stretched around the neck of his prick. It was at rest in her rectum.
Her arms and legs tightened as if she'd been blasted with a cattle prod. Linda felt a horrible suction, like a vacuum pulling at her guts. Guitierrez pulled the prisoner back, and the reversed pressure seemed to tug all the way to Linda's throat. The vulgar feeling sent flashes of repelled lewdness up her spine. Linda didn't know whether to revel in the relief or weep at the thought of losing that ass-filling knob. She bit her lip.
Linda couldn't even sob now, not with the insistent motions of the prisoner's cock up her asshole. She pushed her buttocks back toward him, seeking his prick again, knowing it could stop the wrenching vacuum in her bowels.
The prisoner paused, then shoved further in. Linda squeaked. The motion sent her pussy into tremors of lusty need. The folding, slippery ring of his foreskin massaged the sensuous nerves of her asshole like a tiny mouth. It felt like a lascivious kiss between the hard bar of prick and the stretching attack of the lieutenant's fingers.
Linda was torn, both in her mind and her assflesh. She twisted her shoulders against the colonel's marauding hand. The pain from the tortured buttons of her nipples added to the heat in her crotch. The firm, round globes of her ass flexed back toward the prisoner's string-wrapped prick, seeking more of that lewd fullness. Linda looked at the mirror again, wishing the enlisted soldier would move and give her a better view.
The sliding of the prisoner's prick sent shivery thrills up and down Linda's spine as it moved deeper into her guts. Linda felt her ass filling with the man's prick. It was like a load of lusty, iron-hard heat growing in her. She thought his prick surely had to stop ... there couldn't possibly be as much meat there as her asshole seemed to feel.
But after the head and the foreskin entered her ass, the prick slid further and further. Linda's rectal nerves were so sensitive that it felt like a freight train of cock coming into her ass. She imagined the angry-red bar of meat growing until she split around it like a ripe melon. She had flashing images of a tree trunk impaling her.
The steady slide of the prisoner's cock eased. Linda felt his belly on her asscheeks. That must be all of it. He has to be all the way into me now. Linda sighed gustily.
The prisoner's cock started withdrawing again. Linda thought at least a foot of prick emerged from her ass. The nerves of her asshole protested every inch.
He started forward again. Linda pressed back against him. Her hips rose. The strange, erogenous fullness in her bowels began to excite her. It wasn't like the heat that rose in her belly when her cunt was full of prick, but it was somehow connected to similar nerves. It was a sensation all its own, with the sheer ungodly evil of the perversion and the leers of the three spectators adding a lusty spice to the feelings.
The prisoner's cock went deeper. It passed the zone where the last stroke had stopped. Linda inhaled. Her breath filled her torso and pressed her insides down against the deep-diving cockhead. The knob went up and up, filling her until she felt rigid heat sliding clear to her breasts. The incredible distension of her asstube made her belly feel full for the first time since she'd been jailed.
It was like gorging at a feast, a perversely lusty feast of cockflesh. Linda thought her belly would swell to bursting. The heat in her asshole echoed against the stuffed-full feelings in her belly. Streamers of weird need filled her mind. In spite of the stretching pain, Linda wanted more of his cock in her ass. She wished it really were a tree trunk impaling her.
He pulled back again, with Linda's insides trying to follow his cockhead. Linda felt the lewd suction in her ass. It was about to drive her insane.
The speed of the ass-reaming strokes increased. Linda squeezed down onto the prisoner's cock. She wanted to feel it more, drag more lusty sensuality out of the contact. She didn't care about the pain now, the tearing sensation, the elbows in her back, the torturous mauling of her tits. All she wanted was that cock, that massively stiff bar of meat. Linda needed to feel it drive in, deeper, deeper. A spinning ball of heat in her assguts joined the prick-jammed fullness. She moaned.
The leather-tied prickmeat had unnatural stamina. The prisoner, aided by Guitierrez' shoves, thrust back and forth faster. Linda met his eyes in the mirror. Her mouth dropped open, pleading for him to flog more cock into her.
The lieutenant let go of the prisoner. He found the strap again. Linda felt awe and horror as the prisoner, unaided, kept his piledriver rhythm going in her asshole. The tissues of her asschute were on fire, ready to melt around his meat. The hot friction was like salt in an open wound. Linda writhed, letting the pain excite her more. The prisoner's balls began slapping against the fevered slash of her drooling pussy, and Linda knew she would come.
Her cuntlips dragged back and forth on her clit. Heat sliced into the whipwelts on her pussy. The cunty tension built rapidly. Her clit was as important now as the ramming piston of cock in her asshole.
The meaty slap of his sac on her cunt made Linda gargle with confused lust. Every nerve in her crotch was on fire. It was all she could do to keep up with his strokes. Linda tried timing the frantic spasms of her hips to the sound of the strap on the prisoner's ass, but it was no good. Her pussy and her asshole dominated her completely.
The mirror showed flashes of Guitierrez winding up with the strap, then lashing down across the prisoner's ass. Every blow of the heavy leather drove the man's cock forward into her asshole. Every jerk of his body made his cock harder. The leather thong was buried in the swollen flesh at the base of his prick. Guitierrez flogged mercilessly, and the prisoner fucked to save his life.
And Linda started to come. She felt the fiery scald of his ballsweat on her pussy, the flaming friction of his cock in her asshole. The ridges of bony stiffness along the sides of his shaft washboarded along her asshole. The whole hot, sloshing zone of her cunt and ass vibrated to the heavy thrumming of his meat.
Slap! Slap! The sound of the strap and the swing of the prisoner's balls against her cunt merged. Linda felt the orgasm in her asshole increase. Her cunt sucked air, winking open and closing again like a red-lined camera shutter. The peak approached, then threw waves of release along her nerves, but still the prisoner fucked at her asshole.
Linda wanted to scream, but she couldn't even breathe. The ramming fuckstrokes of the prisoner's cock bounced her pelvis against the edge of the table. The enlisted man's weight mashed her down onto the wood. The colonel was tearing her nipples off. Guitierrez whipped the prisoner faster and harder. The big empty room echoed with the constant slap, slap, slap of leather on the man's ass and the man's belly on Linda. His balls flogged cream out of her cunt, spattering the oily juice along her thighs, spraying dribbling fluid onto the floor.
Between sweat and assgrease and cuntal cream, Linda's whole body was slick as a seal's. She squirmed, and the tabletop was wet. She bucked, and the meaty sound of the prisoner's belly on her ass slapped like a fish on water. Linda panted, and she sounded like a chugging locomotive. She twisted like a worm on a hook, milking sensation from his cock and balls as if her life depended on it.
In spite of the slashing blows of the strap, the prisoner slowed. The meaty bar of captive prick in her asshole swelled even larger. The velvety walls of her asstube felt his glans flare wider. With another slap of his belly on her ass, Linda felt the knob hit something deep inside her bowels. The kink at the top of the tube felt like a dozen knives carved into it. The lining of her ass stretched obscenely toward her lungs. It pulled from the mouth of her asshole upward. It was lost in her middle. The tearing in her guts accelerated her second charge of orgasmic feeling. Linda wanted it all to crest at once, the pain in her tits, the juicy, ball-slapped sliding of her cuntlips on her clit, the piercing, reaming, ramming thrusts of the prick in her ass.
The prisoner grunted. The load of heat in his prick forced him to slow. Not even the two-handed slashes of the lieutenant's strap could make him move faster. His prick pulled outward. Linda's guts sucked down behind the knob. Only the head of the prisoner's cock stayed in her asshole. The flaring wings of his glans pulled against the inside of her rectum, urging her innards out. Linda hunched her ass back and forth in hurried, fluttering strokes. Every tug against the mouth of her asshole made the tension in her belly increase.
With a bestial grunt, the prisoner shoved more cock deep into her ass. The lining tore deep inside Linda's belly. The prickhead hit the kink inside like a freight train smashing into the side of a mountain. Linda screamed with the cataclysmic force of the explosion in her ass.
Thick, spurting masses of come conquered the thong around the man's prick. They hit the tortured lining of Linda's asshole like jets of liquid fire. Linda's cunt spasmed shut, clenching down on aching emptiness. Her asshole wrung at the pounding mass of the prisoner's cock. Linda went into cunty convulsions, twisting and writhing like a madwoman under the weight of the enlisted soldier. The prisoner still rammed at her flailing ass.
And the colonel still tortured her tits. His fingers dug into the sides of the mounds, bruising the tender tissues. Linda beat her head against the table. She felt bruises rising, but they were nothing compared to the heat in her ass and the spasming hunger in her cunt.
The lightning jolts of heat in her cunt amplified the fury in her ass. Linda's mind centered in the three hot spots of her crotch. Her clit shot rockets of heat along her nerves. Her cunthole screamed for prick. Her ass wrenched around the hard, hot jerks of the prisoner's cock.
With a whistling underhand slash, the strap curled under her belly. The wide leather band mashed her cuntlips around her clit. Stars burst in Linda's brain. The shattering addition to her orgasm made her sure she was dead. No body could stand the excess of pained pleasure that her loins quivered against. She curled away from the table. The cuffs dug into her wrists. Her bruised tits showed, and the colonel slapped at the mounds. The prisoner's cock started to pull out.
"Nooooo!" Linda wailed. She needed that prick, needed the fullness in her ass, at least until the awesome waves of her come let her go. The whole unnatural process was wasted if she couldn't squeeze her asstube around the still-dribbling meat.
The outward motion stopped. Just for a moment, a last drop of sperm forced the prisoner to shove forward again. The ringing slap of the whip against her cunt and the prisoner's balls made him fall away.
Linda screamed and wailed. Rage and frustration filled her. She kept coming. The smashing rhythms of her orgasm were broken. The hot signals overloaded her system. Her brain rebelled.
The wide flare of the knob had tugged her asshole outward. She tried to keep the lascivious heat of that instant in her mind. Linda spat curses at the colonel, at the prisoner, at everyone and everything that came to mind. Her asshole still fluttered, as empty now as her cunt. She jerked uselessly. Guitierrez pulled the man away. Linda pounded her chained body against the table.
Slowly, her shackled legs relaxed. Her arms straightened, dangling in the handcuffs. Her whole body sagged, stretched by gravity into a puddle of sweaty, come-filled flesh. The angry red faded from her pussymouth and the sides of her rectum. When at last the colonel unhanded her tits, Linda was deserted. A bubble of air escaped from her cunt. Semen trickled to fill her clit-fold. Linda's sobs faded and she passed into the sleep of total exhaustion. She never felt the handcuffs loosen or the hands that carried her back to her cell.
CHAPTER FIVE
The sun shone in again through the tiny window when Linda heard the door open. Shame that made her want to vomit swept over her. How could I ... how could I have done that? she gagged.
Wait! I didn't have anything to do with it! They forced me! As the lieutenant strode in, Lump-nose behind him, a change came over Linda's thoughts. I've been forced into it all along! I never would have let even Judy touch me if I hadn't been so drunk!
Linda let them drag her off the floor like the puppet she felt herself to be. She was afraid to look at Guitierrez. If he saw the murderous hatred in her face!
And after Judy ... this one! This bastard, this petty tyrant! God, if I ever get a chance! A t least his boss, the colonel, seemed to get some pleasure out of it! Guitierrez only flicked me to punish me!"
Yes! Fucked me, badly, at that. That hand on my pussy, the way he dragged me out on the chain until I thought my arms would break! He doesn't hate me because I'm American ... he hates me because I'm a girl! It doesn't have anything to do with their rotten little war ... he saw a chance to hurt someone, and he picked me! Linda limped along the corridor between the two men, trying to conjure up a plan, any plan that involved the slow, painful death of Lieutenant Guitierrez. Images of knives and red-hot pokers made her smile. She dragged her feet, prolonging the walk to whatever new doom the Cubans had thought up for her. Lost in her reverie, Linda stubbed her toes on a stone step. "Oww!" she moaned. As if she didn't hurt badly enough, her own daydreams had nearly broken her toes.
"Silence! We must hurry," the lieutenant said. "You must bathe and have your wounds attended before your employer sees you." With a smirk that confused Linda even more than his words, he added, "We do not want the reputation of damaging the goods of our North American allies." Guitierrez led her and the putty-nosed solider down the hallway at a near-trot.
Even though it was the middle of the morning, the old stable Linda found herself led to was filled with lanterns. The few tacked-on electric lights on the wall of the building didn't shed enough light for the cooking and washing tha( a half-dozen peasant women worked stolidly at. The smell of simmering beans, spices, and salt port and the cutting scent of medicines filled the courtyard. A woman in her forties or fifties gave Linda a valvanized bucket of warm water, a sliver of soap, and a grey-white section of threadbare cloth. Linda stood slumped in her chains. Did they expect her to wash here, in the middle of the courtyard?
Lieutenant Guitierrez growled an order to the soldier, who rushed off busily. "There is not much time," he said, unlocking Linda's handcuffs. He bent to use a heavier key on the leg irons, then gave her a backhanded swat on the ass when he straightened.
That familiarity insulting familiarity restarted the slow rage burning in Linda's guts. It fueled on the hunger that the cooking smells had awakened. The redhead set her teeth grimly and began dabbing water on her breasts and belly. She ignored the glances of the barracks cooks and the comments of the soldiers lining up for messcall. Linda twisted this way and that, washing the blood flecks from her buttocks, scrubbing the comespots from her thighs. It would have been easier to reach between her thighs to wash the underleases of her asscheeks, but Linda felt strength and agility returning to her tortured muscles with every calisthenic twist of her torso. She tried to flex every limb and tendon, weighing her chances. She hefted the metal bucket surreptitiously. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it might do. She kept her head down, sneaking glances through the tangled strands of hair over her face. The open end of the courtyard was nearly fifty yards away, and the two dozen soldiers stood between her and whatever lay outside. Linda had started re-soaping her arms when Guitierrez snapped, "Enough!" and took the sliver of laundry soap away. He spun Linda around by the shoulder and marched her across the courtyard.
The other wing of the barracks was more open, with idling soldiers and civilians mingling in the corridors. Linda scarcely had time to know where she was going before she was thrust into a small, bare room and left alone.
Now that she knew how fragile the handcuffs were, Linda wished she were still shackled by the wrists. At least she would have a flimsy weapon, better than no weapon at all. All she needed after that was clothing and a chance to run. She paced back and forth, sweeping her hair away from her face with both hands. They're getting sloppy with me. I have to be ready!
The room was three paces deep and four paces across. The latch scraped. Linda forced herself to look cowed. She slumped her shoulders and tried to hide her breasts and pussy with her hands. Adrenalin pumped surges of blood to her muscles. She hoped that the blush of anger and tension on her face could be mistaken for embarrassment. She wiggled her bare toes against the stone floor, mentally rehearsing a leap for the door.
Guitierrez held the door open for a swarthy, sport-shirted American. The American grinned, then shook his head. "Nah, Paco, she ain't mine, but I will give ya, oh, fifteen hundred bucks for her." He stepped in and cupped Linda's chin in his palm. "Fine-lookin' piece, Paco. You been dippin' inta this'un?" He ran an appraising hand over Linda's breasts and down along the firm, supple curve of her waist.
The Lieutenant's face was simultaneously greedy and cold. "If she is not yours, she is not for sale, Mister Meyers. She is due for more interrogation."
Meyers turned Linda around with one strong hand on her shoulder. "Looks like Colonel Almieda already questioned her. I tell you what ... two grand for the colonel, and fifty grams of snow-white for you." He glanced at Lieutenant Guitierrez, then added, "Hey, Paco, she's no use to you. If Almieda didn't get her to talk yet, she don' know nothin'. At least I got a use for her."
Linda didn't know what to think. She looked from Guitierrez' wavering expression to Meyers' easy, toothy grin. Meyers seemed as friendly as a used-car salesman, but a hard edge underlay his smile and his drawl. She found herself hoping the lieutenant didn't want the "snow-white", whatever it was.
"No, I cannot do it," Guitierrez said regretfully. "She is a Castrista, and we must find her contacts. Besides, she would not be good for you. She is a ... como se dice? A woman-lover."
"A dyke? So? Our girls don' fuck for love, Paco. If she is a rebel, we'll have her out of the country before noon and solve that problem for you, too. Whaddya say seventy-five grams, and I'll tell Almieda it was fifty?" He raised his eyebrows hopefully, then shrugged. "Okay. Gimme a call when you're done with her." He started for the door.
Linda felt as if a sword had been removed from above her head. Guitierrez followed the American out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. The sudden letdown left her weak as a newborn kitten. Linda lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. What had she escaped from? Why did the Cubans think she was so important? She stretched out on her side, glad to be clean for even a little while. Linda put her arm under her head and drew her knees up. If the soldiers had already taken ten thousand dollars from Judy's body, why did they turn down two thousand more for Linda's ransom? The reasons were too obscure to reason out. Linda brooded and wondered. The stone floor was luxury itself as she nodded off.
The door slammed back against the wall with a splintering crash. Linda bolted upright. Guitierrez kicked a short, thickset Cuban into the cell, chopping the butt of his forty-five across the back of the man's neck. "Who is it?" the lieutenant snapped as the man fell face-down on the stones. Colonel Almieda materialized in the doorway.
Linda jumped back, away from the falling body of the new prisoner. Still naked, shaking the sleep from her eyes, she babbled, "I don't know! I can't even see his face!"
Guitierrez almost leapt the four feet to the man's side and kicked savagely at his ribs. With a retching groan, he turned over. His mouth and nose were covered with blood. The man squeezed his eyes shut in pain, then spit up at Guitierrez. He cursed mushily, spraying pink foam. Guitierrez kicked again, burying the toe of his heavy boot in the prisoner's armpit. The arm jerked spastically, and pain twisted the man into a knot.
"Who is he, Miss Martin?" Almeida asked calmly. "He was searching the condemned wing for una Norteamericana." The colonel pulled a cigar from his tunic and amputated the end with a shiny silver device. He rolled it obscenely around his mouth before lighting it, then dropped the still-lit wooden match onto the prisoner's face.
"I ... I've never seen him," Linda stammered. She tried to look away, but the agonized writhing of the prisoner drew her eye. She moved her feet back and forth, torn between gruesome fascination and the urge to get away from the wounded man. When the new prisoner looked up at her, his expression made Linda's heart pound. She knew she'd never seen him before, but his calm, concentrated gaze told Linda that she was indeed the North American he'd been looking for. Linda felt trapped and confused, and, because the stranger had been looking for her, responsible for him in a way that she couldn't figure out. More calmly, she said, "No, I don't know this man. He must have been looking for Meyers' other girl."
Footsteps outside announced another prisoner, hardly more than a boy. Linda did recognize the second captive ... he'd been the bellhop at the hotel. Her stomach sunk when the boy ignored her too obviously. She looked at the colonel, and his smirk made her shiver. He puffed his cigar slowly, rolling the smoke around in his mouth, then said, in English, "Strip him, Paco."
Guitierrez left the older prisoner on the floor and yanked the boy's pants down. He tore the rough shirt down the front and peeled it away. Only a few strands of dark hair curled around the boy's scrotum, and his egg-smooth prick stood out like a flagpole centered in a cement circle. Almieda swaggered over and stopped in front of the teenager. "Tell us who the other man is, Miss Martin," he said. "We do not like strangers running around in our barracks. It upsets the men, and that makes me angry." The colonel's voice was calm and light.
"You see, you have already proved that I can get no real information by beating you," Almieda singsonged. "These gentlemen present more interesting possibilities." The colonel puffed until the coal at the end of his cigar glowed orange. He brushed the ash off on the boy's nipple.
Linda watched in fascinated horror. "I told you, I don't know him," she said, gulping. The repulsive colonel had her hypnotized. She watched the cigar travel slowly down the boy's chest, his belly, then circle to a spot just beneath his balls. In the utter silence of the stone room, the crackle of singeing pubic hair was loud enough to turn Linda's stomach. The boy inhaled sharply, still refusing to look at her or the man on the floor. A line of red nearly an inch wide showed the slow, almost loving line Almieda had traced with the perfecto. A blister already swelled painfully on the boy's nipple. The nauseating smell of hair and flesh scorching filled Linda's nostrils. She wanted to gag.
She was about to speak, but the boy glanced stoically at her. She looked at the man on the floor. He glared at the colonel, swallowing the spit and blood that overflowed his mouth. "Almieda, let the child go," he said, slurring slightly.
"For what? A confession from you, and the real information about Miss Martin?" Guitierrez asked, watching the colonel's unwavering cigar and the frightened tension in the boy's stance. The little squares of the child's belly muscles stood up, and the cords at the top of his thighs looked hard as rock.
"Let him go. He is not a threat," the prisoner repeated. "I will talk to you."
Colonel Almieda turned away from the boy. He shoved the child into the corridor, and booted footsteps took him away. "Bueno. Digame, quien es Senora Martin? Porque ella es in Cuba?"
The prisoner closed his eyes, gathering strength to speak again. When the guards had taken the bellhop out of earshot, he began, "You can let the girl go. She is only a tourist. I was to keep her from following her dead friend, her and the rubia, the blonde one."
Lieutenant Guitierrez broke in. "You are lying! This Linda Martin was the leader! The blonde one told me personally ... she was the novia, the fiancee, of the dead one!" He glared down at the prisoner.
The captive had a faint smile on his face when he looked at Guitierrez. "Si, si, "he said wearily. "Coronel A Imieda, todos in Havana intienden Paco Guitierrez el culo mas grande de Cuba es. Por favor?"
Linda shrank back in fear at the tight-lipped rage on the lieutenant's face. "Teniente!" the colonel snapped. "Silencio!" He checked the lieutenant's anger before the biggest asshole in Cuba could explode. "Dame mas," he ordered the prisoner. "En Ingles."
"Gracias, Coronel. I did not think it mattered if they were amigas or novias, or disease-scarred whores like the mothers of the Corporals' Junta," the prisoner smiled. He slowly sat up, propping himself on his good arm. "I knew she had been arrested, and when she did not leave with the whoreseller Meyers, I thought I would come to find her. You know me, Coronel, and you know I do not act politically. I came here only to see justice done."
Guitierrez turned his back on the colonel and the prisoner, his jaw twitching with rage. The man rose to his feet, still favoring the side where the lieutenant had kicked him. He rubbed his ribs, and spoke again. "So, if you like, Coronel Almieda, we can go find this child's clothing and I will escort her to the docks. The American consular officers are urging their citizens to leave Cuba already."
The colonel's smile was like a fencing foil. His gaze never left the prisoner's face. Linda was so engrossed in the two dueling men that she barely noticed the fingers wiggling beneath the prisoner's arm. He seemed to be gesturing to her. She shifted her feet slightly. "Please, Colonel," she began hopefully.
"Ahh, Carlitos, you are a poetic man," Almieda said, his superior glance inviting Linda to watch his rhetoric slice the prisoner's argument to shreds. "And, like most poets, you are a liar. It is not simply the jealousy of La Rubia that led me to keep Miss Martin in custody. We have evidence, enough evidence to have half of Havana executed. If you would like to add to our knowledge, perhaps I might allow you and Miss Martin to leave, but I already have a very nice offer for her."
Carlitos let his hand fall to his side. He smiled with lazy satisfaction. "The offer certainly comes from someone besides el maricon marveloso, no?" He gestured toward Guitierrez' tense back. "Paco!"
Guitierrez turned. His face had paled, and the effort of self-restraint stripped his expression to a hawkish, skull-faced mask of contained fury. "Perdoname, boca grande?"
Slowly and distinctly the prisoner, Carlos said, Quien es su padre, Paco? El es un gallo, o una cabra? Lo intiendo la corazon de su madre pompa las mierdas de ciente-sesenta perros, pero-"
With a snarl of distilled rage, the lieutenant leapt at Carlos, brushing the colonel aside. Guitierrez' right hand clutched for the butt of his automatic, but he was too slow. The finger-waving signals had alerted Linda. She jumped across Guitierrez' legs while the colonel was still off-balance, slamming her shoulder into his bemedalled chest. Carlos had sidestepped the lieutenant, raising one knee into the pit of his stomach as Guitierrez charged.
A hot rush of blood to her head and the memory of the merciless whipping Almieda had given her helped Linda crush her heel down on the colonel's hand. The smirk on his face was gone now, replaced by a look of anger as hot and vicious as Guitierrez' anger had been cold. His mouth opened to shout, and Linda swept the sole of her bare foot up in a smooth, swift arc. Her heel connected with his chin. Teeth snapped together. The colonel's eyes went blank.
Linda spun around. With a grunt of exertion, Carlos pulled the lieutenant's torso off the floor. He set both hands in the diagonal strap of the gunbelt and slung the taller man's head into the wall. A thud like a melon hitting a sidewalk merged with the sound of Guitierrez' boots sliding on the stone floor. Carlos grabbed the pistol from the dead lieutenant's belt and snapped, "Come!"
Linda unsnapped the heavy leather flap of the colonel's holster. The ivory-handled grip of a huge revolver jumped into her hand. "How do we get out?" Linda asked, waving the pistol frantically.
Carlos jammed the automatic into his belt. He ripped his shirt open and flung it around Linda's shoulders. "Hide the pistol," he said, swiftly arranging her arms to hold the shirt over her breasts. The redhead obeyed. She held the shirt over her shoulders like a shawl. The barrel of the revolver stuck down the left sleeve. "Can you pretend to cry?" he asked.
Linda nodded. She hunched over, conscious of the nakedness of her loins and asscheeks. She watched Carlos shove the automatic deeper into his belt, then let him put his arm around her shoulders. The butt of Guitierrez' pistol touched the outside of her left thigh. Linda thought of Judy and the torture she'd undergone in the prison, and the tears came.
"Good, very good," Carlos muttered. He had to reach up to pat her shoulders, nudging the gun barrel down until it was better hidden. "Don't look at any of the soldiers. Walk like you're really weeping." He tugged Linda into the hallway, muttering soothing Spanish phrases at her whenever anyone approached.
Linda was crying from fear now. Every pair of booted feet she saw might belong to the man who would find the colonel and the lieutenant. She'd never shot so much as an air pistol before, and now she had a heavy revolver hidden under the only garment slit wore. She listened to the whistles and comments of the soldiers and the sounds of doors opening, too scared to see where she was. If Carlos hadn't urged her along, she would have sat in the middle of the corridor and waited for Batista's soldiers to take her back to the dank security of her black cell.
"Not much further," Carlos cautioned. "Keep your head down." Linda smelled fresh air, then squinted. The daylight at the doorway was bright enough to blind her like a mole. "A patrol is coming. Lean your head down onto me," Carlos whispered.
Linda bent further, sobbing until she thought she'd piss all over herself. The soldiers stopped talking as she and Carlos walked through the middle of the squad. Linda sniffled, her knees weak with terror. Any second she knew she would feel a bullet in her back, or hear the alarm raised behind them. Carlos guided her around a corner, and Linda heard a motor start. "Don't look up," Carlos cautioned again. She heard the squeal of worn breakes. It had to be another patrol, absolutely had to be! She saw the big wheels from the corner of her eye. The motor almost drowned Carlos' voice. "Come around. Okay, get in!" With a shove and a leap, they scrambled into the back of the truck. A canvas flap brushed her face. Linda crawled under it.
"Here-trousers. Give me your pistol," Carlos hissed. The truck lurched and an empty crate slid into Linda's back. Linda let the shirt fall away from her shoulders. She was out of Batista's prison, for a while. But where was she going? With whom? Linda wanted to scream.
I'm going to die in Cuba, she thought. I want to go home!
The fourth day after their escape from Moncada Linda woke in panic. She was used to hunger now, and used to Carlos' constant vigilant presence. In three days, they'd shared one raw rabbit, killed by a stone slung from Carlos' hand. Linda had seen people in the distance, but Carlos always led her away from buildings, roads and clearings. She was utterly lost in the tropical forest, and now she was alone.
But Carlos' bed of branches was still intact. He'd taught her to scatter the signs when they broke their cold camp each morning. Linda pulled on her ill-fitting boots and followed his footprints down the hill to the stream below. She approached silently. Carlos dived from the center of the small pool toward the two pistols when she spoke. Linda was so relieved to see him again that she laughed when he lectured her about stealing up behind him. "It's a good thing I'm on your side," she smiled. "I'm getting better at this forest skulking."
Carlos' frown dissolved. He waded out of the pool. "I think we are safe enough now," he said. "You can bathe if you like. I will stand guard." He pulled on his pants and turned his back pointedly.
The prospect of rinsing the sweat of three days' forced march off her skin was too inviting to resist. Linda stripped in seconds and waded into the water. The pool was only eight feet across, but it was deep enough for her to bend down until the water rose to her throat. Linda ran her hands luxusiously over her body. The few remaining cuts from the colonel's whip and the dead lieutenant's swagger stick were nearly healed. Her wrists were still raw from the handcuffs, but her welts had disappeared. She swept her long red hair up over her head with one hand and rubbed the cool water over her face and the nape of her neck. She looked at Carlos' muscular back, still shirtless under the warming sun, and a tingle in her pussy made her blood flow faster. Linda cleared her throat, then stood up.
The water came just to mid-thigh. Linda made a luscious picture in the middle of the pool, with the sunlight making diamonds of the water droplets on her fair skin. The healthy pink glow of her flesh made the wet red of her pussyhair look like the embers of a log fire, smoldering with rich warmth, ready to blaze up instantly. The water had forced her long nipples into coral points. The maze of excited little wrinkles around the tips looked deliciously inviting, ready for a touch or a tongue. She swayed seductively and murmured, "Carlos?"
He turned around. His face flicked into an immobile mask. "We are not that safe," he said, the thick lump of an erection bulging down his thigh.
Linda let her hair fall over her shoulders. She ran her tongue over her teeth. "I would have died without your help," she said simply. She raised her hands pleadingly and waded toward the sandy bank. With every step her firm breasts lolled invitingly and her lush hips rocked in a dreamy, sensuous motion. "Am I so unattractive that I cannot thank you with what I have?" she asked, adopting Carlos' formal, careful phrasing. She stood less than three feet from him.
Linda's expression changed from warm expectancy to disappointment, then hurt. What's wrong? she thought, blinking back tears. Did they ruin me that badly in the prison? I can see he's ready, but he won't touch me!
"It's not safe!" Carlos exploded. His hands moved toward her, then stopped. He looked as agonized as Linda felt. "Even Batista's army does not come into this zone. The bandits have all been driven toward-" The double click of a weapon being cocked interrupted him. Linda's blood froze.
"Banditos are no longer in fashion," a thick-accented male voice said. "You are in the territory of the Army to Preserve Liberty!"
Linda covered her breasts and pussy and looked around. The dozen armed men at the edges of the clearing looked like bandits. They grinned like bandits. When the wind shifted, they even smelled like bandits. The scar-faced man at the front of the group smiled evilly. "General Arturo Covarrubias at your service. You have been liberated."
He gestured with his pistol and three men surrounded Carlos. They took the pistols away and tied his hands. Three more men wrestled with each other to tie Linda and carry her across the stream while the "general" spoke.
"You must be the ones Almieda has posted the reward for. If only I knew how to get the money from Meyers and Alieda both ... the trouble is, you see, Meyers wants you alive, and el Coronel would not give you to him while you could still breathe." He paused, nodding his head at the weighty problem. "Ahh, bueno! We will see where your talents lie and then decide who will pay." His leer was as nasty as the hands roving over her body.
Linda stumbled in front of two bandits until they reached a trail. Carlos was already tied hand and foot, draped across the back of a bony mule like a sack of cement. The bandit leader gave a series of rapid-fire orders and mounted a tall horse. The two men behind Linda handed her up to him. She automatically straddled the horse, facing the chieftain. She wanted to pass out. His erect prick was already out, hard and eager for her gaping pussy.
Hard, scarred hands grabbed her hip. "Vamonos!" the leader shouted, and the bandits mounted up. He spurred the horse viciously, and Linda's cunt rammed against the head of his prick.
Fright had dried her pussymouth. Only the red curls on her labia were still wet. Linda winced in pain as the bandit hauled her closer. The head of his cock wedged halfway into her dry cunt. The pressure dragged her clit toward his shaft.
The flare of his knob assaulted the tender strips of her inner labia. Linda screamed, from fear as much as pain, and he let go of her hip long enough to slap her. Her head whipped to the side, and Linda stared in horror.
The rocking motion of the horse's back moved her hips in a copulating roll that moved her further onto the impaling prickhead. The bandit grimaced at the pain of her dry cuntsleeve gripping his knob. He slapped her again.
Linda was too scared to shout again. She looked wildly from side to side. The other bandits rode alongside, jostling and shoving their horses against each other to watch the chieftain rape her. The "general" laughed cruelly and gouged at her pussy with his free hand.
The pain of fingers tearing at her cunthair made Linda squirm. The head of the leader's cock nearly wrenched out of her pussy. She felt herself falling. A blow from his fist made her see stars, and she straightened her back was against the horse's neck. Her thighs crossed the tops of the bandit's legs. Linda grabbed the horse's mane in her fingers, trying to keep from sliding off. Another stab of the man's cockhead against her dry pussy made her arch upward in a spasm of pain. "Please, slower," she begged. "Mas despacio, por favor!"
An outrider laughed, mimicking her in a hign voice. "Mas despacio, mi general!" The bandits snickered, ogling her lewdly.
The leader laughed with them. He slapped the horse with the reins and the animal broke into a canter. The rapid joggling movement banged her box against his prick over and over. The bony tip stabbed everywhere from her rectum to her pubic bone. Linda winced with every jolt and her pussycream began flowing in self-defense.
The bandit reached to her pussy again, spreading her cuntlips wide with his first two fingers. He let the horse pick the trail while he stared into the blushing, meaty-red slot of her pussy. His knob prodded against the rim of her cuntmouth, jabbing into her half-wet vagina with each bump of the horse's pace.
A lance of agony shot through her, followed by the hottest surge of pure lust Linda had ever felt. The leader ground his thumb into her clit, mashing the little pellet from side to side. Linda wailed with heat. The jiggling ride bounced her cunt harder against his cock and his thumb. She felt those dirty fingers spread her inner folds until she was wide open, and the head of his prick entered.
The ring of sensuous muscle around the mouth of her pussy immediately clamped around the neck of his cock. Linda felt cream gushing from her cuntwalls in a flood of heat. Only the broad, cunt-corking head of his prick kept the juice from greasing her thighs. She moaned, and the bandit let go of her cuntlips.
The relief disappeared in an instant. He rolled the pink bullet of her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Electric shocks of shattering lewdness shot through her like rockets. Linda felt her whole pussy blazing with heat and pain. Every second put more of his prick into her cunt, and every inch of his cock made her pussy respond faster.
Maybe it was the three days without sex or maybe it was the cruelty she thought she'd escaped. Linda was amazed at the speed of her excitement. She felt her womb touching his cockhead, bouncing up and down with each step of the cantering horse. The dull thudding of his knob against her deep-hidden womb made the feelings in her pinched clit, the sensuous heat in her cuntmouth, even the sliding of the horse's neck on her back seem more intense.
Almost before she knew it, Linda felt his cockbush scratching at the inside of her cuntlips. He pulled his hand out of the way and jabbed forward farther. His pelvis mashed her clitty into a tiny fireball of need, and Linda started to come.
The trotting horse bounced her on the bandit's prick like a lust machine. The bruising force of the fuckstrokes matched the pulses of her come perfectly. Linda wailed with sheer horny excitement. Her legs went up and clamped around the bandit's back.
The trees along the trail thinned out, but Linda didn't see them. She lay against the horse's neck, her asscheeks flexing with the beat of her orgiastic excitement. She rolled her hips in time to the thrusts of the bandit's cock, and her tits jiggled heat all through her torso. Every inch of her skin soaked up sensuality, from the touch of the bandit's hands to the slick, slightly sweaty touch of the horse against her back. Her legs tightened around the bandit's waist. Linda started levering against him.
The bandit shouted happily. The others had all dismounted in the clearing where they camped. The leader spurred his horse faster, and the fucking pair on the horse galloped around the edge of the clearing.
The incessant bounding of the horse, the sound of hooves on dirt, the continuous thrusts of the leader's prick all combined. Linda couldn't separate the sounds from the cock, or the cock from the hands on her ass. The bandit dragged her upright. She was suspended on his prick. Her tits scraped against his shirt. She felt scratchy whiskers seeking her tits, and Linda leaned back.
Around and around the clearing, the horse panting, the bandit nuzzling and biting her nipples, whiskers scraping her deep cleavage, she rode. Linda rode the man's prick for dear life, feeling another orgasm building up inside her. She held off as long as she could, then let it go. She couldn't stop coming!
The bandit growled and cursed, throwing his hips up at her. His belly battered her pussy. He bit half-through one nipple. Linda felt his prick swell larger, harder. She whipped her ass back and forth in a frenzy, cuntally begging him to shoot his seed into her.
The horse was tiring, but the bandit's flailing spurs kept him galloping around the clearing. Linda puffed as hard as the horse. She was soaked with sweat and spattering cuntcream. She whipped her hips sideways, circling voraciously around the bandit's cock. The knob levered around in her cunt, stretching the walls wider, heating the tissues to furious red. She felt the bandit strain to keep from shooting. She worked harder on his prick. Linda clasped her cuntring like a fist. The bar of meat in her cunt was hard as iron. Linda grunted. She felt the tremble in his hips, the sudden hitch in mid-stroke. She dragged a huge breath in.
The ripping power of his come blasted into her cunt like a hundred firehoses. Linda screamed. The bandit leader yanked the reins back and the horse reared high, pawing the air.
Linda spasmed around his prick. Her cunt sucked at him like a vacuum cleaner. The rearing horse suspended her over his prick. She was straight up on his spurting cock, driving down onto it with every muscle in her body. Her legs constricted around him like a vise. Linda bent backwards. Her tits pointed up like searchlights. Her hair rippled like a flag in a hurricane. She shuddered all over with the power of her orgasm.
The horse thudded down again, and the bandit's pubes banged against her clit. Linda saw sheets of fantastic color. Her whole world collapsed around her. She felt nothing but the immense waves of her orgasm and the jabbing, stabbing, reaming strokes of his spurting prick. She felt him withdraw a fraction, and she fucked toward the bandit leader again.
Her pussy drained his balls. The rigid shaft was already wilting in her tight cuntal clasp. She heard shouts and cheers, and hands dragged her away from his cock. Linda tried to hold on with her legs, but a slap on the soles of her feet made her let go.
The other bandits weren't about to stop when the "general" had finished. Before Linda's suddenly empty cunt had stopped clamping down on emptiness, she was on her back in the dirt of the clearing. Another bandit jammed his prick into her cunt and stroked away.
Linda's pussy was dripping with semen and cuntcream. She wrapped her legs around the second bandit and thrust up at him. His prick slipped in like a lit candle. It heated the come drenched walls of her cuntsleeve instantly.
Linda writhed and rolled under him, grinding her hips mercilessly up at his prick. She felt him stiffen and start shooting almost instantly. She worked her ass frantically back and forth. She needed to grab another quick orgasm before his prick wilted and slipped out of her cunt.
And she did, but only barely. As soon as the man's rapidly fast hunching slowed, his compadres dragged him off. They yanked her to her feet and took her to the edge of the clearing. Shouts and cheers filled the air as she was tied, spreadeagled, between two trees. The ropes on her wrists and ankles were hardly snug before a third bandito started assaulting her cunt.
Tall and lovely, Linda was the perfect size to stand up and fuck. Her tits and the firm globes of her luscious ass made her irresistible. The next man wasted no time dropping his pants and having at her pussy. His hands roamed from her tits, pinching and squeezing, along her ribs, her waist, and down to her asscheeks. He adjusted the slant of his prick with one hand, and slipped in.
Linda's cunt was as hot and greasy as a glove full of melted butter. She felt the easy slide of cockmeat going in and the confident hands on her ass.-She started moving immediately. She twisted like a belly dancer, making the bandit circle his cock around in her gash. The heat in her belly grew. She was ready to come again. Linda let her head loll backward and prepared to let her cunt go crazy.
Suddenly she felt the hot, hard shape of another cockhead traveling up and down her asscleft. "No!" she shouted, losing the beat of the meat that slipped up and down her cuntchannel.
"Sir the man shouted, and his hand went over her mouth. Linda felt the obscene invasion of a hand smearing jizz and cuntjuice from her thighs to her rectum. The man grabbed handfuls of the greasy mess and worked it into her asscheeks, then slid his finger into her asshole. Linda wailed, the sound muffled by the hand on her mouth. She was desperate.
And the bandit behind her was desperately horny. He guided his cock along the inside of her thigh and put both hands on her ass. He spread her cheeks wide, pulling at the mounds until Linda thought her ass would split in half. The head of his cock pressed dead center on her asshole, hot and hard and thoroughly wet with the overflowing syrup from her cunt. With a single unstoppable shove, her assring parted around his knob. Linda wanted to die.
She hated herself for responding to the first bandit's prick. She loathed herself for fucking the second and third men. The ultimate disgust came when the fourth man's cock slithered so easily into her stretching asshole and Linda felt her cheeks tense.
The cock in her cunt paused, then stroked back a fraction. The man fucking her ass slipped more meat up the tube, swiveling his hips, Linda felt full enough to gag. Two cocks moved in opposite directions in her crotch, veering off the thin membrane between and filling her to exhaustion. Her whole lower belly was full of prick, and she couldn't even scream.
Linda sobbed with mingled heat and disgust as the men matched the rhythms of their strokes. The cock in her ass ascended, and the prick in her pussy slid down.
When only the head of the cunt-cock was in her, they reversed. Linda churned inside.
Either her cunt or her ass was full, and the other channel ached with sucking emptiness. Linda felt sweaty manflesh against her ass and the wiry curls of a prickbush tangling in her cunthairs. She groaned with the excess of fucking, and the men speeded up.
The cock in her cunt moved faster. Atone point, both pricks rammed up into her at the same time. Linda thought she would split wide open. The horrendous sucking hollow in her belly threatened to turn her inside-out when she felt them both sliding back, and the next instant filled her full again. Her ass felt completely loaded, and her cunt was already starting to tighten. Linda wept.
The two bandits accelerated. Linda went limp. She lost control of her muscles. She couldn't do anything to help herself, not even move her hips. Her asshole and her cunt tightened and relaxed around the two cocks. The heat in her loins grew.
And grew. Linda dangled between the men like a puppet. The fuck motions of their cocks pushed her hips forward and back. The bandit in her cunt started swiveling, and the ass-rapist followed. Now both her ass and her belly had male bodies slithering sweatily against them. Both her cunt and her asshole stretched sideways, forward, back. Linda felt a huge charge of heat building up in her, and she wailed. Even now, even with two cruel, perverted pricks, stabbing into her ass and her cunt at the same time, her body was going to come. She hung from the ropes and let herself go.
There was no stopping it. Linda felt her body tensing, swaying back and forth between the two men. She dreaded the onset of the feelings. The powerful urges in her loins increased. The obscene vulgarity of a prick wedged deep in her ass had frightened her the first time. Now the power of that perverse release would combine with the rippling waves of a cuntal orgasm.
And every stroke brought it closer. The membrane between the two cocks was losing sensitivity. Both pricks battered at it. The men were getting ready to shoot, and Linda knew the last, spasmodic jerks of their cocks would set her off. She tried to calm herself. She thought of everything but sex. She breathed deeply, then held her breath. The inexorable tension built up inside her. The knowledge of her next come hung above her like a cliff-face.
The man behind grabbed her tits. Her nipples squirted between his fingers. Linda felt the sharp agony of twisted nipples searing the whole mound of each tit. He pawed at her bosom, mashing the globes tight against her chest. His long, hard strokes pulled nearly out of her ass before battering back in. His belly slapped her ass, as loud as cannon firing.
The man in front gouged at her buttocks. He levered his hips at her, yanking her cunt onto his prick. The head of his cock slipped completely out. His next stroke ripped cunthair from her labia and jammed his shaft ball-deep in her cunt. The bruising force of his pubes on her clit made a lightning bolt flare in Linda's brain. He fucked back again, then threw cock into her. Her womb bounced away from the powerful ridge of his bloated prick.
The assfucker slowed down. He grunted savagely in her ear. Every brutal stroke of his prick seemed to tear her asstube loose. Knives of pain sliced from her asshole to the middle of her belly. The flesh between the two holes stretched.
Both men pulled back. Like a hammer meeting an anvil, their cocks blasted up her cunt and ass. They pulled back again. The watching bandits cheered.
Linda's head arched back. Her spine bowed with the simultaneous suction from both emerging cocks. She was a hollow, empty shell from her throat to her crotch.
They rammed up and in. Linda felt the shuddering release of their sperm. The lining of her asstube burned. Lava-like jizz poured into her ass. She heard the cheers of the other bandits. Her mouth snapped shut. The first burst of painful orgasm ripped through her. Every nerve in her body screamed. Over and over and over again her cunt and her asshole spasmed shut on the pistoning pair of pircks. An earsplitting yell tore from her raw throat. Her belly was full of semen, her crotch was full of jerking, twitching, spewing male meat. She tensed against the ropes, dragging her hands and feet in. Spasms racked her. She bent the saplings they'd tied her to. The leaves rattled.
The next shock wave of relief hit her, and Linda fell apart. Her fingers starfished out. Her cunt was milking madly at one prick while her asshole shimmied around the other. She babbled and wailed, shouting, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" at the top of her lungs. She swore then, babbling until frothy spit sprayed ten feet away from her. Totally out of control, her mind blanked while Linda's body went on coming, clasping, tensing, until the two bandits could barely drag their shriveling pricks out of her holes.
Linda curled and rolled against the ropes, moving her hips in the constant rhythm of orgasm. The bandits watched in awe as the tall redhead slung her body around, her long hair flying. Semen and cunt cream and a pinkish froth of blood spattered the ground under her. With a last huge jerk, her hips snapped forward. Her head slumped onto her chest. Linda hung there, motionless. The marveling banditos slowly walked away.
CHAPTER SIX
"Momma," Linda muttered. "Close the curtains, Momma." She let her eyes flutter open. Her Cuban vacation came back to her in a rush.
It's too bright to be my cell, she thought. Linda tried to move her arms. She dangled with her feet a few inches from the ground, spread far apart. She remembered the bandits surrounding her, tying Carlos to a pack mule, but everything else was blank.
Why am I tied up? she wondered. Linda ran her tongue over her lips. The slant of the shadows said it was late afternoon. Where's Carlos? She raised her head, but her hair was in her eyes. Linda tossed it back. Carlos lay on his side, a rope running from his bound ankles to his neck. Linda tried to whisper, but her throat was raw. She pulled up with her arms, and a dull ache in her crotch told her at least part of what had happened. She moved in her bonds. It felt like quarts of sticky semen had dried on her thighs. The scaly stuff ran clean to her knees. She flexed her legs, and a burning pain at the top edge of her rectum reminded her of the last few seconds before she'd passed out. "Ohhh, my gawd!" she moaned, and slumped forward again.
Arguing voices came to her ears. She looked off to the left, where a dozen men squatted in front of a cave. The wind blew some of their words away, but she could hear enough to realize they were debating whether to kill Carlos or take him along in hope of increasing the reward. One of the bandits was saying, "Look, we only have two men who can go safely into Havana. That's not enough to take two prisoners in."
The leader, the one who had fucked her on horseback, looked over the heads of the others to where Carlos lay. "If he helped her escape, Almieda will want him, too, and you know he never likes the sorrowful ones to die before he gets them." He looked at Linda and smiled. "Of course, Meyers may pay us more for the girl ... she is spectacular, no?" He swaggered around the end of the group and walked to where Linda hung between the two small trees.
"I think I will ask her where she would rather go ... and if that one should accompany her," he said in English. He called an order over his shoulder and one of the men turned Carlos to face Linda. "He should watch ... you are going to pass judgement on him," the bandit leader said. He turned to stare at Carlos.
Carlos spit across the packed dirt of the clearing. He looked ready to speak, but thought better of it. Linda tensed as the chieftain watched Carlos. "No," she rasped, "Please, no. Don't kill him."
"You enjoy this life, this freedom army?" the "general" asked, sauntering around Linda. His eyes traveled up and down her body, surveying the purple bruises on her breasts and asscheeks. "If you weren't worth so much money, we would keep you here. Many of the peasant women would be glad to be in your place, among the only real men in Cuba," he bragged. Without looking, he scraped his worm boot backward, showering Carlos with dust. "These city men, for example," he went on, "they only come to the forests when Batista is ready to cut off their shriveled balls. And those Castristos! How long can you expect to live with a whole army after you?"
The bandit leader turned around, lecturing as much to his men as to Linda. "No, the Army, they are more like us. They understand we do not bother most people. If we were with the Reds, they would come after us, but they know the rebles would kill us as fast as they kill the regular soldiers. That is a very good reason to give you both to Coronel Almieda." His voice droned on, and Linda looked away. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. A branch had just moved against the wind. Linda looked at Carlos. His eyes flicked from her right to her left. That same stony immobility she'd seen when she offered her body to him jelled on his face. He shook his head slightly.
Linda looked past him again. She detected more tiny increments of motion. One of the horses at the far end of the clearing stamped, and a mule brayed. Carlos had closed his eyes and gone limp on the ground. Linda looked at the "general" again...." your other talents. Meyers must have trained you for something very interesting to offer so much cocaine," he said. The dozen bandits behind had their eyes locked on Linda. With a flick of the wrist, the leader commanded two men to cut her down from the saplings.
"I had thought about tying you upside down," the leader said, "but that might give you another fit." He translated into Spanish, and the bandits laughed.
Linda fell to her knees as soon as the ropes on her wrist were released. The bandit leader cocked the revolver she'd taken from Colonel Almieda and held it negligently in one hand. He undid his fly and waved the pistol toward his his erect prick. "Toma! Eat it, woman!"
Linda looked around, shocked. She'd heard insults, even in Ohio, but to think that people actually did that ... She hesitated, and a booted foot swung bruisingly into her crotch. The lips of her pussy puffed up immediately. The sore tissues of her ass and cuntmouth burned. The fire infected her clit. Linda knee-walked to the bandit leader and grasped his prick.
"Yes, eat it! I want to feel those American lips around mi carne," the "general" sneered. He nudged the back of her head with the barrel of the gun.
Linda sneaked a glance at Carlos, who lay limp, resigned. The aroma of horse and cuntjuice and dried semen came to her nostrils, thick enough to cut with a spoon. Linda gulped and parted her lips.
The salty, heavy taste of his cockhead surprised her. The slit at the tip already oozed a bitter fluid, and her saliva mixed slimily with it. The dried come and cuntcream made the surface of the big knob sticky, but a little more spit made the whole end feel as slick as the lips of her pussy. Linda took a fresh grip on his prick and moved her lips down.
She didn't know whether to suck or lick at the warm, thick rod. Linda wondered if he expected her to put it all into her mouth. It seemed impossible. She touched the tip of her tongue to the slit at the end and searched inside.
The leader's prick plowed forward into her mouth in a swift shove. Linda nearly gagged. She only half-listened to the bandit's words. Linda began to get interested in the textures of his prick.
A hand sneaked under her asscheeks and started toying with her pussy. Fingers twined in her cunthairs. Linda couldn't see who it was, but it couldn't have been the "general." His hands were both on her head, holding her face while he stroked in and out.
The easy, greasy slide of the cock in her lips sent telegraphic messages of heat to her breasts. Linda felt her nipples erecting. She wasn't sure if it was the twisting hand in her pussy or the growing, pulsing prick in her mouth that caused it.
The hand in her cunt dug in harder. Linda inhaled more of the chieftain's prick. She rolled her tongue around the knob. The shaft was somehow smoother than the end, even though the surface looked wrinkled with traceries of veins. Linda started to bob her head back, and a thumb dug into her asshole.
The pain made her start. She barely managed to keep from biting down on the leader's cock. Linda rotated her hips, trying to convince the owner of the invading thumb that he should stop. The motion encouraged him.
Two fingers slipped into her cuntmouth. Another reached up the slippery central stripe of her pussy and found her clit. Linda sucked harder. The cock in her mouth wasn't connected to the hand in her crotch, but the feelings from each of them certainly were. Juice squished noisily in her crotch, and Linda pulled her head off the leader's prick.
"More!" he insisted, and pushed her face toward his crotch again. Linda was having a hard time getting her breath. The taste was becoming more acceptable, even pleasing. She wondered what the bandits were going to do to her when she became aroused enough.
Another man found a way. Hands suddenly seemed to grow all over her body. Fingers pinched the mounds of her tits and gouged at her ass. Linda felt the egg-smooth knob of another man's prick press against the side of her face. The leader pulled her head away again. She instantly transferred to the second cock.
It was smaller, but the taste of her cunt was missing. Pure man! Linda thought, and she gobbled down the shaft. The knob pressed against her palate. Linda raised her head again.
Her tongue whipped around the knob like a snake. She felt hands on her tits, fingers in her cunt, the thumb in her asshole all move faster. At least four different men were fondling her, fingerfucking her, shoving cocks at her mouth. Linda felt suffocated, but she sucked valiantly at the prick in her mouth.
In seconds, the leader pulled her face back to his own prick. Linda reached up and found the shaft of another cock with her hand. She jacked at it, matching the speed of her hand strokes to the hunching rhythms of the man's hips.
Linda lavished tonguework all around the bandit chiefs cock, keeping her hand moving on the other man's prick. Fingers pinched her nipples into blazing stubs of heat, mauled her breasts into tight mounds of nerves. Her hips circled from side to side, then rolled in a coital motion. Another fingertip found her clitty. Hands and pricks and fingers massaged all the most sensitive parts of her body. For a frantic second, Linda was afraid they would pull her off of the "general's" prick and start double-fucking her again, but it didn't happen.
The leader pulled his hands away from her head. Linda took it as permission to suck the next man's cock. This one was different again, dry where her saliva had soaked the others. There was no hood of foreskin. She reveled in the clean, naked space between the ridge of the knob and the broad part of the shaft, and sucked until the head seemed ready to burst.
Hands on her head dragged her back to the leader's prick. Without .realizing it, Linda grabbed a cock in each hand. She stroked the loose skin up and down hot shafts, working her fists with all the frenzy that was building in her cunt. A mad urge to investigate the taste of semen seized her. She licked and sucked madly, her tongue preying on the flare of the bandito's cockhead. She slipped her mouth off the head for an instant and ran her tongue down the front of the shaft.
Linda was hotter by the second. The oily sweat of horny excitement covered her body. A prickhead jabbed at the side of her tits. She felt boots skid past her bare feet, and the hand in her crotch moved. A man pulled her backwards onto his cock, and the greased center of her pussy filled instantly. A lightning bolt of sudden fullness in her cunt started an orgasm.
But Linda knew she couldn't let go completely. She bounced her ass up and down on the man's lap, but kept her teeth off of the leader's prick. The fluttering waves in her pussy spread until she was gripping the cocks in her hands like iron bars. She jacked faster and faster, sucked harder ... the whole world was cocks and hands and mouths and cuntflesh, sucking and thrusting and mingling hot and wet....
A huge crashing noise shattered her eardrums. Sperm jetted into her mouth. The cocks in her hands slipped away. The man seated under her bouncing ass spasmed upward, throwing her away from the bandit leader's cock. Still the huge noise went on....
The cock disappeared from her cunt. Hot, sticky fluid rained down on her. Linda fell heavily on her side. Her head hit a rock. She opened her eyes in shock.
Linda screamed. She couldn't hear herself. The clearing around her was full of leaping, twisting bodies. The stacatto of machine-gun fire hammered at her ears. She saw Carlos scrambling, hunching like a worm toward the edge of the clearing. The bandit leader, his pants still around his ankles, shot back at the trees.
Naked men flopped like dying fish in the dirt. The zone where Linda had been was covered with blood and the viscid white of semen. A grenade roared, and the yellow-red of the explosion shattered the trees where she'd been tied. As the whipcrack of rifle shots added to the confusion, she heard "Down! Linda-" and a second roar as another grenade exploded.
Half of the banditos were dead in the first three seconds, but the leader was still shooting. He dropped to his naked knees. The slide of the automatic he held kicked back and stayed. He grabbed for the ivory grip of Almieda's pistol and raised it toward the two rebels who'd burst into the clearing near Carlos.
"It's MINE!" Linda screamed. She dove at the bandit leader, her hands stretched for the pistol. He swung it half around. Everything jerked to slow-motion while Linda flew through the four feet of bullet-torn air between them. The hammer went back, and the barrel foreshortened. The hole at the end went from oval to round just as the heel of Linda's right hand struck the bandit's shoulder. She felt the concussion of the exploding gasses. She wrenched the pistol away. A shot from a rifle made bloody pulp of the "general's" chest. Shock and outrage more evil than anything Linda had ever seen crossed his face.
Linda rolled to her left. She lit on her side, her breast scraping into the dirt. Before her hipbone had contacted the ground, the pistol was in her right hand and ready. She spun around and rose to a half-crouch. The shooting stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Three green-clad, bearded men stepped into the clearing, three different guns at the ready. Linda looked to her right. Two more, one with his back braced against the heavy, wicked-looking automatic rifle he pointed a few feet away from her Linda's belly. A sixth, then a seventh man showed just back of the treeline, still untying Carlos' bonds. Linda lowered her pistol. "Uhhh, don't shoot," she stammered. A phrase from a war movie jumped into her mind. "Sessen sie. nicht! No, that's German. Carlos, help!"
Carlos stood up, shaking the circulation back into his hands. "Don't worry, Linda. You're part of the rebel army now ... and when I tell them where that pistol came from, you'll be a hero." He stepped into the clearing again and spoke rapidly to the guerrillas. The look on their faces turned from wariness to surprised admiration.
Carlos was telling the story of their escape with flamboyant gestures. Linda broke in. "Carlos, now that I'm a hero, can I have my clothes back?"
Carlos stopped, embarrassed. "You better...." he began, then stopped talking just in time to catch her. Linda passed out for the second time that day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Before nightfall Carlos handed Linda a decision to make. Lieutenant Remora, the guerrilla band's leader, wanted to leave her at a village near the main highway. Before capturing the horses, the rebels would have been hard-pressed to make their rendezvous with the rest of their column, scheduled four days away. Mounted, with food, ammunition, and medicines from the bandits' cave, the men all agreed on a sweep around the meeting area. Remora thought they could make two, perhaps three widely separated attacks on government outposts and still link up with the Sixth Column in time to attack the caravans Batista's forces sent along the roads. If she wanted to stay with the rebels rather than risk being taken back to the Moncada prison, she would have to fight alongside them. Even then, there was no guarantee that the officer in charge of the column would allow her to remain after the rendezvous. Earlier in the war several young Americans had been sent out of the mountains because they couldn't keep up with the hardened guerrillas.
It was difficult. Linda felt a stab of homesickness when she thought of her parents, but home seemed impossibly far away. The sexual abuse of her body by the bandits, Batista's men, and even by her dead friend had changed her ideas about herself. She wasn't sure that Akron was where she belonged.
But where did she belong? Even if she did attempt to skirt the police in Havana and made it as far as the boat to Key West, where would she go? She was nineteen years old and felt ninety. Linda snorted bitterly when she thought of her old goals, marriage and motherhood. Any man who would want her now certainly wouldn't be a good husband or father. Every part of her body had been defiled ... and she'd felt shameful excitement each time. For one desperate moment, Linda considered finding Meyers in Havana.
As for staying with the guerrillas, that seemed impossible, too. She hadn't prepared herself, physically or mentally, the way Judy had. Judy had died before she'd been in Cuba for twenty hours. She couldn't shoot a gun, in fact, Carlos had kept Almieda's pistol pending her decision. She could barely keep up with Carlos in the forest. She'd been frightened half to death when the battle erupted at the bandits' camp. True, her Spanish was improving, but the troop medic who'd looked her over had a hard time understanding her answers when he asked about her pain. Being the only woman in an all-male force had a pussy-shivering appeal, but the embarrassment of cleaning blood and semen from her skin while the column prepared to move out was a recent tender spot in her memory. Linda brooded until dusk. Her empty stomach churned into an acid mass. One look at the homey little whitewashed houses of the village below decided her. The column pulled up around Remora.
"I'll stay until we reach Column Six," Linda quavered. She looked at the guerrillas bravely, her lower lip trembling with anxiety. Lieutenant Remora looked doubtful. Linda felt her chances slipping. Before he could speak, she blurted, "Up the revolution! We'll win!"
"Venceremos!" Carlos replied, and the rebels joined in.
"Venceremos!" The medic tugged the pack mule closer, grabbed a captured rifle from the lashings, and handed it to Linda. She slung it over her shoulder, blushing beet-red in the dusk. The rebel cavalry started down the hill to the village.
And in the village it began. Remora reminded the squad on the way in," 'The people are the sea in which the guerrilla swims.' " He didn't remind them seas can run high.
A single peasant, only a little better-dressed than the rest, looked at Linda with great interest. She attributed his interest to the novelty of such a tall woman traveling with the soldiers, or perhaps to her red hair. Linda forgot about the man until he returned when the squad's medic, a wiry fifty-year-old with silver hair and a constant smile, had finished making the rounds of the complaining villagers. Now the peasant's eyes were calculating, wary. He stayed in the back of the crowd. When the squad mounted up again, he was right beside Remora, wishing them safety in their march.
The little troop returned to the hills. Fed and properly tended, Linda slept well for the first time since she'd come to Cuba. At first light they moved out.
A convoy of trucks was due to pass sometime during the morning. In other parts of the island, the rebels controlled the roads, but near Havana the government forces still ran armed convoys nearly every day. Remora and Carlos agreed on a likely spot for an ambush.
The guerrillas were on the east side of the mountains, some thirty miles from Havana. The coastal plain reaches up against a series of foothills in that region, and the main highway skirts the edge of the hills. Less than an hour's ride from their overnight billet a pair of hummocks stepped out onto the plain. The highway ran between the two hills and the main slope of the mountains' rolling border.
It would have been better, perhaps, if Batista's forces didn't know the squad was mounted ... if they could strike outposts daily, more than infantry distance away, the Army would have worried more. The villagers had informed them, though, that the government seemed to be building up the garrison near a pair of sugar mills several miles further east. Before full light the plan was laid and all nine of the little band were in position.
Carlos and three others were in cover at the foot of the road's embankment. Remora, the medic, two guerrillas, and Linda hid among the rocks on the side of the first hill the trucks would pass. One of the soldiers in Remora's party watched the road from the top of the hummock. As soon as the convoy was sighted, he slithered down and reported. Six trucks with one jeep ahead and two behind made up the column. He'd seen no sign of air cover.
Remora glanced up. "Good. We will wait for the first truck to pass the curve, then immobilize it. Shift your fire immediately to the jeep, and when it is finished, we retreat. Before the road is clear again, we will be up that hill," he said, pointing across the road. "We go northwest, and cut off anyone trying to return to Havana."
A thousand frantic butterflies flapped in Linda's stomach. Yes, the road was narrow, but if the truck rolled off the edge ... She craned her neck, but Carlos' group and their horses were well hidden.
Motors grew louder in the distance. All the weapons they'd taken from the bandits' cave were loaded and ready, three to a person. The youngest of the guerrillas rechecked the big Browning automatic rifle.
Now the lighter sound of the jeeps' motors could be heard. Linda squinted her head down the barrel of the shotgun. The front trigger was for the driver's window. The second barrel went for the gas tank, just behind and below the cab. Linda drooled copiously. If the convoy didn't show soon, she would vomit.
The tiny sounds of knees digging into dirt underlay the noise of the approaching vehicles. The whine of straight-cut gears in the truck axles all but drowned the crunch of gravel. A jeep, bouncing on its springs, growled around the corner. The heavy machine gun mounted on the rear pointed toward the clear, unmarked sky.
Linda watched the driver and the two other soldiers. The gunner was leaning over the seats, gesturing to the passenger. The detail astonished her. The driver had a small, pencil-line mustache. The gunner showed semicircles of perspiration under his arm.
The jeep was ten yards, then twenty yards past the bend. It would be around the next kink in the road in seconds. Linda ached all over. Her muscles were tied in knots. After so much drooling, her mouth was oddly dry.
The truck pulled around the corner. Its canvas sides were down, but someone had forgotten to tie the flaps. They fluttered in the wind. Linda waited. The rusty, once-silver ball of the gunsight blocked the lower half of the driver's face. "Ahora!" Remora shouted.
The huge "BOOM" of the shotgun deafened Linda. She was still fighting the recoil when she pulled the rear trigger. "BOOM!" again, even louder.
The brutal hammering of the Browning made every other sound a whisper. Linda dropped the shotgun and fired a rifle blindly at the jeep. Puffs of dust erupted all around it. The driver and the gunner jerked. The passenger half-rolled out on the far side.
Soldiers poured out the back of the truck. The cab was on fire. Some fell where they leapt. The truck rolled, then stopped with a cloud of dirt rising around the rear wheels.
More soldiers ran away from the blazing truck. Plumes of black smoke rose over orange-red flames. A few government soldiers ran to the embankment, but no further. The rest, firing wildly in every direction, dashed around the bend in the road.
Linda ran across the road in a nightmarish panic. Behind the burning truck the other jeeps were jockeying to come up to road. Dozens of soldiers milled like ants. Linda, Remora and the others dashed down the bank. Their arms, weighted with weapons, windmileld for balance. A guerrilla brought the horses forward from the trees.
All the gunfire had stopped. Linda heard herself sobbing. All around her the rebels panted, while bodies of Army ranks struggled briefly in the road and expired. Nine horses and nine riders joined instantly and galloped off toward the trees.
Distant, not as deafening, the heavy clatter of the government machine guns started up. Leaves and branches disintegrated around them. Linda bent low over her horse's neck and looked back.
So far none of the rebels had been wounded. The pack mule was less than a mile away, and the troop ran for it. The medicine and supplies on the mule were nearly as important as the attack. Before the impact of the skirmish had sunk into Linda, they were there. The rebels reined up and Carlos dismounted. He untied the mule. Remora looked around. "Everyone is all right?"
The chorus of "Si, buenos," died out as Carlos remounted. They were surrounded by a unit of Batista's army, guns at the ready. Faces fell and hands rose. Linda leaned over her horse's neck and wept.
In the center of the village Captain Morales ranted and raved. He gave the greatest speech of his life to the stolid peasants. The horrors of Communism, the duty of a citizen, even the role of the Church were grandly expounded. He then personally executed the eight rebels.
The peasants' expressions scarcely changed. When they saw the battered, bleeding guerrillas dragged into town the execution was inevitable. When the ring of soldiers around them broke to throw the corpses into a truck, the peasants slowly returned to the fields. The cane and tobacco needed work, whether it was bandits, Batistianos, or rebels who died in the square.
The well-dressed man sidled up to Morales and muttered a question. The captain looked at Linda and smiled. "Como no, Ignacio?" He waved, and the soldiers let go of Linda.
Why not what? she wondered. The peasant approached with a swagger, and she knew.
"Half an hour only," Morales called as the peasant led Linda toward a small house. Her wrists were tied in front of her. The peasant led her by the end of the rope like an ox.
The house was a single room, perhaps ten feet on a side. The floor was split logs, the chinks stuffed with straw and mud. The whitewash on the inside was wearing as thin as the lipworn picture of the Madonna on the side wall. A low pallet in a rear corner was the largest piece of furniture ... the table was hardly larger than the two skillets that lay on top of it.
Ignacio closed the wooden door and let go of the rope. He dragged an old rice sack across the window. Linda stood still in the middle of the room, watching mutely.
She was numb, as unfeeling as a lump of stone. Even without being recaptured, the emotional impact of the battle would have left her inert. The execution of her new compadres had been the last slash at her senses.
Ignacio smiled and spoke softly to her. "You are very much of a woman," he said, circling her. His eyes roamed greedily all over her. He took the battered cap from her head and sucked air through his front teeth. Her long red hair cascaded down her back.
I'll die soon anyway, Linda thought. She looked over his head while Ignacio unbuttoned her shirt. She heard him hiss again at the bruises on her high, full breasts. It didn't matter to her.
Fingers wrestled with the ropes on her wrists. Linda held her hands slightly higher, and the ropes fell away. Ignacio peeled her shirt away and started on her pants.
Linda looked down incuriously. It was novel to have only one man stripping her. The faded shadow of a smile pulled the corners of her mouth.
Her pants fell around her ankles. Ignacio sat back on his heels and stared at the rich, coppery red of her cunthairs. Linda knew that the outer edges of her labia were visible, and that the central strip between her cuntlips was still dark from the bruising-gallop of the horse she'd ridden. She watched his face.
Ignacio was impressed. He was perhaps two inches shorter than Linda, and six or eight years older. His eyes devoured the long taper of her thighs, the wide, inviting bowl of her pelvis, and the tight triangular gap just below her pussy. Linda's smile was sadder, but wider. She shifted her feet slightly.
Ignacio reached for the knife at his belt. Satisfied seconds later that it wasn't an attack, he relaxed. "Muy sensuosa," he decided. "Muy, muy sensuosa!" He stood and undid his belt.
Linda looked into his eyes instead of down toward his rampant erection. She began to find it amusing ... a single peasant was rewarded with her body. Neither the bandits nor the army had made her feel like a prize. She ran her hands languidly up her hips, stretching the tight skin. Her fingertips slipped along her narrow waist. She cupped her breasts, offering them to Ignacio. "Le gustaf she asked.
He was on guard again. Ignacio stripped his shirt over his head and nodded toward the pallet. Linda decided not to speak any more. She turned and walked to the cot, her hips rolling sensuously. The notion that she should make it worth his time fluttered through her head.
Ignacio jammed his hand into her crotch from behind. Linda jumped, seesawing on the fingers that had skidded past her cuntmouth to her clit. The little pellet hardened in two quick pulses. When Ignacio let her down from tiptoe, she turned to look at him. Her face was melting with the slack, eager look of horny womanhood.
Ignacio shoved, and the pallet caught her calves. Linda fell against the wall. Her asscheeks stung. Grit ground into her skin. She slid down to a sitting position. Linda started to lie back, raising her feet from the floor, but he wouldn't have it.
Ignacio grabbed her wrist and yanked. Linda groaned at the shock that went up her arm. Her shoulders hadn't recovered yet from being hung by her wrists. He's going to hurt me, Linda thought, and she felt a clammy chill of sweat start on her skin.
Ignacio thrust his hips at her, and Linda had no choice. She felt the goo-dripping tip of his prick touch her cheek. Without looking away from his face, she opened her mouth.
The fleshy hood of his foreskin was bitter-salty in her mouth. Linda kissed the covering. Her lips pressed tight around it. Slowly, fear growing in her, she touched the end of his glans with her tongue. Linda pulled her mouth back and looked up at Ignacio.
He grinned cruelly. Ignacio took a handful of her hair and twisted. He pulled her face back toward his cock. His other hand went under her chin. His tumb dug into her cheek like a hammer-claw. He put his index finger into the corner of her mouth and pulled.
The harsh stab and the painful stretching worked. Linda couldn't keep her jaws closed if she'd wanted to. Every time she tried to pull her head back even a fraction, Ignacio yanked her hair forward again. Shaking with fear and pain, Linda took the end of his prick into her mouth again.
The thick, dusty odor of his unwashed balls filled her nostrils. Linda thought she would suffocate on the scent. She tried to lavish erotic tonguework on his prick, but he jabbed the spongy knob against the roof of her mouth. Linda gagged.
Ignacio swore. He moved his hand from her jaw to her tits and twisted her nipples. Linda moaned around his cockhead. Juice gushed in her pussy when he mauled her tit. She squirmed on the gritty blanket. Her heart pounded. The salty taste of his prick made her mouth pucker. Fighting revulsion, Linda slipped, the tip of her tongue under his foreskin and -rimmed the ridge of his knob. Ignacio hummed contentedly.
He bent his knees, tugging her forward. Lind's tits hung into his hand. She felt his fingers spiderwalk over to her other breast. She waited an instant, then inhaled more cock to stifle her moan as he attacked the other nipple.
Linda began bobbing her head desperately up and down on his cock. She sucked on the outstroke and rolled her tongue on the instroke. The loose, salty warmth of his foreskin moved around her tongue like a living thing.
Ignacio's hand dove into her pussy. He wiggled his fingers down the center of her twat. His thumb pressed the outer edge of one cuntlip. Linda spread her thighs slightly, and thick, sausage-like fingers crept over her asscheeks. She stopped moving her head for a moment, and Ignacio fucked his prick into the top of her throat.
His knee knocked her legs open wider. Linda wondered if Ignacio would come soon. She was becoming more frightened, and simultaneously her body was becoming more eager. She hoped that he could shoot in her mouth before too much lust built up in her pussy.
Ignacio slipped a finger into her cunt, then another. Linda felt his ragged fingernails scrape at the sensitive sides of her cuntal tube. She tried to open wider, bearing down, but that only allowed his probing digits to slip further into her cunt. He jabbed harder, and she lost sensation as he went past the sensitive lower part of her cunthole.
Linda tried to squirm away. She imagined ghastly scraping nails clawing at her inner surfaces. She moaned and gathered saliva around his prick. With the strength of fear, she pulled away from his hand.
Ignacio pulled her off his cock by her hair. He glared into her eyes. Without a word, he slapped her, then chopped the back of his hand across her other cheek.
"Linda started to cry. "Please," she whimpered in English. "Please, just be nice!"
Ignacio replied in Spanish, wrapping his face around each word. "Then eat my cock! I want to feel those sweet lips sucking and working up and down while I shove my entire first into your cunt! I will fuck you until you can't stand up!"
"Please, please," Linda whined. Ignacio yanked her face into his crotch again, and her mouth opened automatically. Linda sniffled and wept as she sucked, memorizing every cell of the lathesome prick in her mouth. She shook like a leaf. Linda was covered with cold sweat. Ignacio kneaded her cuntlips with one hand and shoved his cock harder into her mouth with each passing second.
Linda tried to match his rhythm, but Ignacio made it hard. His hand would work at her pussy, then go back to her face. Cream smeared on her cheeks and chin. He held her head still for a long, deep stroke. Linda realized that Ignacio wanted her to miss the rhythm so she would suck his prick longer.
Ignacio let go of her hair, but a warning thrust of his prick told her not to miss a stroke. He put his hands on her tits and ran his thumbs over her nipples. The coral tips stood up like fat grapes, and each flick sent shimmering vibrations all through her body.
Ignacio delighted in touching the responsive nuggets. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth on them like windshield wipers. Linda hated the feelings, hated the reaction that the rough handling sent to the pit of her belly. She felt her pussy moistening more.
Ignacio dropped his left hand to her crotch again. He trailed his fingers through the coppery nest of her cunthair. He tugged, and the abused skin of her cuntlips hurt. Every follicle on her pussy seemed to stand up and scream. Hairs ripped out.
Linda's pussy was raw inside and out. Her clitty stood up like a pencil stub. She sucked as lasciviously as possible at his prick, hoping that he would shoot in her mouth before her arousal became too obvious.
More juice flowed from her cunt. Linda could smell the aroma of her own arousal even over the reek of Ignacio's balls. Dread chilled her belly.
Her bladder felt the strain. It had been a long time since she'd pissed, and Ignacio's fingers worked to make it worse. The back of his hand brushed across her belly. It was all Linda could do to keep from wetting herself. She concentrated on his prick, wrapping her tongue around the edge of his knob like a tiny snake. Was she imaginging it, or was his prick swelling up in her mouth?"
Linda licked into the slit at the tip. The tiny cockmouth was widening. She felt the spongy flesh around it firm up. Linda put one hand around the base of his prick. She jacked slowly up and down. She did her best to hurry the rush of seed up from his balls. She cupped his sac in her other hand and massaged the rock-hard eggs of his balls.
Ignacio shoved his prick against the back of her mouth in short, hard strokes. Linda slurped faster. She felt a flutter in the shaft. One vein went into spasm. She felt her pussy puffing up with the tension. She sucked voraciously at his knob, hoping ... hoping....
Ignacio jammed two fingers into her cunt. Another finger speared in. Her bladder was about to burst. She didn't know how long she could stand the pressure. The hand in her pussy wiggled against the back wall of her bladder. Ignacio gripped her head again, holding her mouth steady for his savage fuckstrokes. Linda gargled prick, trying to force his jism out with her buzzing voice.
Ignacio let go of her head. He slipped his hand down across her tits. Linda was surprised. He didn't grab the aching mounds. His palm went across the smooth skin of her belly. He tugged at the very top of her cunthair, then slipped his fingertips back up. They centered just above her pubes, just where his other fingers worked in her cunt. Pressure built up in Linda's bladder. She moaned, hoping he would stop.
Ignacio jabbed his fingers into her belly. He whipped his prick out of her mouth. He shouted at Linda, and her body obeyed.
A dam burst, and piss flooded out. A wave of shame covered her. Hot, reeking fluid covered Ignacio's wrist. The yellow stream burned the aroused tissues of her cunt like liquid fire, spattering from the pallet to her thighs, her knees, even pooling under her asscheeks. Linda wanted to die from the shame of it. Wouldn't it ever stop?
Before the last trickles had gushed out of her pussy, Ignacio yanked Linda off the bed. He spun her around and forced her to kneel on the floor. His hands locked on her hips like two steel vises. His fingertips gouged into her belly, and Linda felt the hard, steely heat of his cockhead graze along her piss-soaked trough.
With a single ramming jab, his cockhead popped past the constricted ring of her cuntmouth. Linda felt the foreskin peel back, then slip into her cunt along with the rest of his prick. She collapsed.
And her head lit right in the draining pool of her own piss. Linda still tasted the head of Ignacio's cock, like a load of oily dust in her mouth. Saliva and piss and the sweat of pure terror covered her face. She felt Ignacio plumb the depths of her cunt with his cock, and she started to come.
Linda couldn't stop herself. The jailers and the bandits had trained her too well. Now all she needed was pain and shame and a single swift thrust of prick to make her start clenching and clasping around any cock that could part her twatflesh. The ripples of release sped along her nerves in a series of erotic shudders.
The first orgasm ended quickly. Ignacio was stroking in and out, moaning praises of the tight, hot sweetness of her cunt. His prick nudged against her cervix and his belly found her ass. Linda bent forward further, turning her head to the side.
Ignacio loved fucking, and Linda felt his excitement infect her. He rolled his hips lasciviously against the mounds of her ass. His hands came around her body. One of them locked onto her tits, massaging first one, then the other. Her nipples begged for more.
His other hand found the diamond-hard spike of her clitty and rubbed. He pushed the pink pellet down toward the shaft of his plunging cock, then rubbed it up and away. Linda shivered with lewd sensation. She couldn't stop the exquisite train of feeling.
And she didn't want to. The constant rolling of her clitty made her cunt tighten deliciously around Ignacio's prick. She moved in counterpoint to his rolling, swiveling, luxurious strokes. Her asscheeks came alive, feeling every hair on his belly. Even the tight ring of her asshole opened and shut in time to his strokes, trapping cockhairs with each push. Every time the frolicking Cuban pulled away again, the hairs threaded out, sending obscenely delicious sensations to Linda's brain.
Linda felt Ignacio tensing behind her. Was he finally ready to come? She worked harder against him. Every cell in her ass, every juicy nerve in her pussy was ready for him. She rolled and moaned, fucking back at his hard, cream-coated prick with everything she had.
Ignacio panted and gasped behind her. His tit-fondling hand tensed, mashing the firm masses of her boobs into her ribs. Linda could hardly breathe with the sheer excitement of the moment. She felt his balls swinging free, touching her cuntlips, and she wanted his come as badly as she'd wanted to get away from him.
Ignacio was ready. Linda felt the slight hitch in his motions, the swelling of his cockhead. He pulled out until the flange of his knob tugged against her cuntring. He plunged in again, stripping the nerves in her crotch with the speed and power of his fuckstroke.
Her clit was on fire! Ignacio grabbed the tight triangular fold of her clittyhood and pinched it between his fingernails. Linda panicked. A wall of lust crumbled over her. The lancing pain in her clit made her cunt start collapsing around his plunging meat. She screamed and wailed. Her voice rose and fell like a siren. The sheer excess of heat in her crotch drove her crazy. She beat her fists in the piss on the bed. She kicked her feet against the floor. She tore her breasts away from his hand, arching like a hooked swordfish.
Linda bent forward again. She shoved her ass back at him. The redhead bucked, all but throwing him off. Only the crowbar-hard grip of his arm around her waist held Ignacio on her. His cock pounded back and forth, blistering the walls of her cunt.
Linda spasmed over and over. She was coming so frantically that her teeth chattered. She moaned and swore, begging Ignacio to fuck harder, to come faster. She battled with him, flinging her clasping cuntmouth against the base of his jizz-heavy cock. Linda went insane.
Ignacio's powerful strokes drove her forward onto her face. Linda swiveled away from the pallet in passionate ecstasy. She lay now on her belly. Dust rose around her. She arched back again, clutching for his ass. Linda found the tensed cheeks and drove him into her cunt even harder.
She lost all track of time. Linda fucked on and on and on, rolling and groveling even after Ignacio had shot. With a last, heavy sigh, she shuddered into silence. Ripples of unwinding tension chased over her body.
Ignacio pulled out, amazed. He rolled away from the prone redhead. His juice-greased prick flopped across his thigh. "Much woman .. much, much woman," he whispered. "No wonder the Castristos looked so tired." He slowly stood and stepped into his pants. It was best not to keep the Army waiting.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The glare of daylight blinded her. Linda cowered against the sun when the soldiers dragged her out of the peasant's hut. She tried to stand and walk on her own, but more hands grabbed her legs. With her arms and legs bent back, her breasts and hair dangling, she swung between four men. On a two-count they swung her back, forward, and let go. "AHHH-unnh!" she grunted, landing on the floor of a truck. Booted feet clumped in around her and the truck started.
It was the same convoy, continuing confinently toward the sugar mills near Santa Ynez. Linda kept her head down, afraid to look at the soldiers. She heard them muttering, laughing, planning above her, and their words filled her with sickening fear. She would be taken back to Havana that night, and given to Colonel Almieda again. In the morning, she would be tried, then hung alongside the corpses of the guerrilla band.
"What can Almieda do that we can't?" one of the soldiers asked.
"Nothing but keep her alive longer," another cautioned. "El Capitan wishes her to live through the trial."
"Oh, she will live," the first one said. A foot ground down between her thighs, pinching her skin against the floor of the truck.
Linda jerked her legs open. The splintery wooden floor abraded her skin, and the constant jiggling bounce of the hard-sprung truck made her flesh ripple. A hand grasped her arm. "Turn over," one said.
Linda rolled as he tugged. She lay on her back, looking up at eight of the army's finest. The gleams in their eyes reminded her of Guitierrez and the colonel. She couldn't even turn her head away, with four of them staring down at her from each side. The truck slowed briefly, and her shoulders and asscheeks filled with splinters as she slid forward.
The pain in her back was nothing compared to the fear Linda felt when one soldier pulled his gun off his shoulder. He grasped the stock in both hands and teased the point of his bayonet along her left thigh.
Tiny flicking motions of the knife made her sweat and tremble. Linda opened her legs, and he stabbed down at her knee.
The soldiers all laughed at her squeal of fear. The bayonet stuck deep in the floorboard, the rifle swaying above it. On her right, another soldier scraped his bayonet against the inside of her knee. The razor-sharp edge stung into her skin with great delicacy. He half-stood to force his rifle into the wood.
Now she was straddling the blades of two bayonets. The one on the left weaved from the vertical in three-inch swings; the rifle on the left bobbed at a forty-five degree angle.
The soldiers talked about her pussy, about the way the hair grew, the pouting curve of the outer lips, the meaty red of the inner slices. Linda was almost ashamed to feel fear. A soldier next to her head traced the swell of her titties with his bayonet, poking the very tip barely into the skin at the base of each mound. "Su rubrica, su rubica," one called, urging him to carve his initials in her tits. The soldier giggled.
A line of pinpricks followed the line where her breast met her chest, then the cold, blood-tinged blade flirted with her nipples. Linda lay there in panic, wondering when the jerky motion of the truck would throw her up at the bayonet. She stared at the knife, at the gun barrel, at the hands that held the rifle. Every detail of the bayonet stuck in her mind, from the blood groove on each side to the little nick in the leather-wrapped handle.
Flick! Flick! Flic-flick! the bayonet whispered, knocking her rubbery nipples up and down. Linda tried crawling up, away from the two knives that held her legs open, but the front soldier on the right put his bayonet against her shoulder. "Hold still," he said sternly.
The youngest of the soldiers was still flipping her nipples back and forth with his knife. Linda felt the erect spikes of her titty-tips sending little jolts of energy down to her clitty. Her cunt was starting to ooze cream now, and the button of her clit was half-hard. She tried reflexively to close her legs, and the angled bayonet sliced another line on the inside of her knee.
What happens if I start to come? Linda wondered, horrified. If they aroused her enough for her body to take over, she would slice her legs to the bone on the cruel bayonets. She drew a deep breath and concentrated on holding her lewd feelings down.
The bayonet at her shoulder moved up, trailing cold along her neck, then tracing the line of her jaw. Linda looked at it from the corner of her eye. She was terrified. A rut in the road made the whole truck jump, and a blade nicked just under her chin. It took an instant longer for the pain under her left nipple to hit. The soldier pulled a quarter-inch of bayonet out of her titmound. Linda felt the sticky flow of blood run past her armpit and start collecting under her back.
The steely chill suddenly appeared alongside her pussy. A knife trailed up the left side of her cuntlips, dragging cold along the hinge of her thigh.It stopped near her hipbone, then trailed back down. With gruesome care, the soldier went down the left side of her cuntal vee, braced the point of the knife on the floor, and rolled it obscenely across the mouth of her pussy.
Linda held her breath. The gut-freezing intimacy of the knife held her perfectly still for a long second. The back edge of the bayonet slipped along the above the groove at the right side of her cunt.
Linda felt a gush of warm relief start from her cunt. The peasant's come washed outward on the tide of cuntcream, running down her asscrack and puddling between her cheeks. The probing, sliding, spine-chilling touch of the bayonets had almost made her forget her shame until that instant. Now the rush of semen made her cringe with the shredded remanants of her modesty.
The knife kept circling in her crotch, the tip flicking her inner labia open, the flat chilling her cuntmouth. Linda quivered with the urge to scream, to panic and run, but the bayonets at her knees, her shoulder, her breast held her down. She felt the heat of her cunt start to radiate. She knew from the sensations in her crotch that the meaty red of her inner labia had spread beyond the base of her cunt. Even the tops of her thighs were heating, as was the abused, torn ring of her asshole. She wished they would end it, simply spear her through with the bayonets, but Almieda was waiting for her. Linda closed her eyes and started to weep.
The combination of fear, shame, and horny anticipation was overpowering. Linda sobbed, and her hips rolled up toward the knife at her cunt. The soldier pulled it away.
Instantly, Linda felt the hard wooden shape of the gun butt against her pussy. The steel plate at the base chilled her clit, and a quick spasm of delicious sensuality raced through her. The soldier rubbed the stock up and down, spreading the crease from her cuntmouth all along the central stripe of her twat. Linda moaned and moved her hips against the hard wood.
The soldiers commented on her response. Linda kept weeping while her hips moved in a lewd coital movement. Now shame overwhelmed her, but she could not stop the reactions of her body. She moved from side to side, pressing her knees against the bayonets. Her asscheeks flexed, and the slow, willowy moves of her torso invited more erogenous action.
A hand replaced the bayonet at her breast. The soldier kneaded her tit into a firm cone of sensuous flesh, milking at the tip with his thumb, squeezing the side with his fingers. Linda moaned. She twisted her shoulders. Linda pressed her tit more firmly against his hand.
The gun butt moved away from her cunt. Linda felt the invasion of fingers in her vagina. She welcomed them with a wet, satiny clasp of cuntflesh, like a sucking kiss. She reached for the boots of the soldiers nearest her. She tugged pleadingly at them.
A thumb found its way into her asshole. It rubbed against the fingers in her pussy. Linda felt the growing knowledge that she would come. It gathered in her, swelling like a balloon of warm fluid. She cooed under her breath.
Her legs rubbed up and down the bayonets. One soldier pulled his out of the floorboard. He pricked her thighs with the tip, keeping her legs open.
The pain and the pleasure mingled inside her. Linda wanted to feel something bigger and harder, something more forceful than the fingers in her cunt. She murmured, "Please, ohhh, please!" Her hips rolled like a belly dancer's.
One of the soldiers unfixed his bayonet. Three different men grabbed the length of his weapon. They pressed it against the back of the hand of the fingerfucker. With a tap, they persuaded him to stop.
Linda screamed, then worked against it. She felt the cold, slippery metal invade her ass like a relentless cock. She twisted and rolled, milking sensation from it. The men pushed it deeper, then pulled it halfway out. The triple-bladed sight forced her asstube open, it pulled at her rectum from within. Linda sighed, "Yes, oh, my pussy, yes!"
One of the soldiers took a fat cigar from his mouth. He gnawed the end into a chewed, wet-brown mess and shoved it into her cunt. The unchewed end poked from her cunt like a stubby prick. Linda worked it in and out.
The soldiers marveled. The cigar was moving up and down, circling from side to side without being touched. Linda swivled around the gun and the stogie, fucking her hips upward. The brown of tobacco juice ran from her cunt, mingling with the semen and cuntcream under her upraised ass.
The soldiers placed bets on how long she would keep going. Linda felt the truck slow, then speed up. It didn't matter. As long as she could clench her cuntwalls around something, as long as her clitty felt the kiss of stretching labia, she would be okay.
The truck came nearly to a stop, then ground forward again. Linda rolled from side to side, falling against the soldier's legs with every twist in the road. She hummed tunelessly, milking pleasure from the cylinders in her crotch. She reached down and put both hands over pussy. The cigar went in further. Linda started manipulating her clit.
The feelings were building up. Linda didn't care now that eight amazed men watched her, that she was a condemned prisoner, that she would be in Colonel Almieda's hands that night. All that mattered was the feeling building in her cunt and the hard length of steel in her asshole.
The rifle clunked against the floorboard. She rolled from side to side. Linda was riding higher, higher, approaching the peak. She breathed in short, sharp v gusts. Her pussy was tightening, mouthing the cigar. Her clitty felt harder and harder. Every touch of her hands sent electric shocks along her spine. She muttered louder, louder.
The splintered wood under her dug into her again. Linda twisted lasciviously on the floorboards, reveling in every iota of sensation. If it was pain, so much the better ... it justified her pleasure. The truck turned, and Linda rolled face-first against boots. She was halfway under the bench, up against ammo boxes and packs. She struggled back to the center of truck and fucked at the rifle and cuntfull of cigar.
The noise of the rifle on the floorboards was constant. Linda felt the whirling knot in her belly expand. It was ready, all but ready to take her over. She arched high, then fell back down. With a singeing twist of her clitty, Linda started her orgasm.
She cooed and arched, fucking at an imaginary lover. Over and over the luxurious waves of feeling ran through her. She moaned with delight. Linda ignored the sounds of the soldiers, the stopping of the truck. She knew they'd restarted, but it didn't matter nearly as much as her come.
A pleasant warmth washed over her. Linda wondered how long she could keep coming. She let her muscles go limp at last, then opened her eyes. She smiled at the soldiers. Linda cruised off into drowsiness. A nap would be nice ... very nice, she thought. Linda reached down past her pussy. None of the soldiers stopped her when she pulled the rifle barrel from her ass. The gun sight caused a twinge of pain at the top of her assring, but the single quick spasm was no worse then the entry had been. She pulled the cigar out of her pussy.
Roaring, raging hell broke loose. The truck squealed to a stop, turning sideways on the road. Linda skidded forward into a man's feet. The soldiers trampled her in their haste to get out. The column was under attack!
Machine guns rattled and clanged. The sides of the truck ripped. Bullets poured through the canvas. A huge explosion, then another, shook the whole vehicle. Linda's head slammed against the floorboards. She crawled under the bench seat, her head ringing.
Five minute of explosions, machine guns, rifle shots raged. Linda looked for a weapon. I must be the Sixth Column! she realized. I have to help them!
There was not a pistol, not a peashooter to be found. The hot "thwup!" of a bullet snapped past her head. Linda crouched, rummaging through the cases and the packs.
Screams and the sound of burning trucks assaulted her ears. Linda hurried. The truck might blow up anytime. She found a case of hand grenades and threw it out the tailgate. Finally daring to look outside, she saw guerillas scattered all round the trucks. The machine guns on the jeeps were silent. Dodging, firing their rifles from the hip, two bearded men scrambled to a jeep and swung the machine gun around. The brutal hammering of fifty-caliber rounds started again.
Linda saw an Army soldier reach for her case of grenades. She jumped out of the truck and clawed at his face.
A bullet nipped the flesh of her shoulder. Linda felt the soldier go limp. Naked and bleeding, she dragged the heavy case around the side of the truck. She clawed at the top. Shouts rang out. The firing stopped.
Linda finally got the top off the crate. Her fingers were ripped, her nails torn back. A last gunshot rang out.
The guerillas rose from their hiding places. Linda watched as a dozen government soldiers, hands high, walked slowly to the edge of the road. A wounded officer stood in the middle of the group.
Linda set her grenade down. She surveyed the faces of the Castristos. They were suprised to see her there, but the prisoners were their first responsibility. She waited next to the truck.
Something seemed familiar about one of the guerrilas, a small one near the rear. It was the way he moved ... not like the jungle-running regulars of the rebel army. Linda watched him carefully, waiting for him to turn around.
"Maxine! Max! Oh, my God, I'm so glad to see you!" Linda called. She ran toward the girl, her hands held out in a desperate embrace.
Maxine looked shocked. She stared and shook her head. The red hair was long and tangled ... the body was dirty, covered with blood and grime.
"It's me, Linda, Linda Martin! God, Max, I-"
Maxine swung her Garand across her body. At ten yards, she fired. "Murderer!" she snapped. "That's for Judy!"
Linda fell at the edge of the roadway. Her hands went halfway to the wound in the center of her chest.
The hammerblow force of the bullet shocked her. She looked at Maxine quizzically. The pain hadn't started yet ... the naked redhead curled in on herself. Her thoughts went back to Akron ... as close as she'd ever get to home.
