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Subject: Lauren Gisal Book 2 Chapter 40-42 of 59 (ff/mf/Ff/Mf/inc,cons,nc)
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Lauren Gisal Volume Two 
 
The following fiction portrays events that will be considered 
offensive to some people. Graphic scenes are described of sexual 
intercourse by teenagers, adults, with and without their consent. 
Later chapters deal with punishment. If you are offended by such 
material, or if you are considered a minor in your country, then 
delete this file. 
 
The author hereby permits the redistribution of the attached 
material on the understanding that it is not for financial gain and it 
is credited to the author, Francis Dashwood.  
 
Please do not request reposts of this material. Constructive 
criticism is welcomed. 

Chapter 40  
  
She felt the blunt end of the vibrator running over the material of   
her bikini following the lips of her pussy. She still thought it was   
about the size of him but there was no elasticity at all. Her fear   
returned as he shuffled around between her legs, pulled the bikini   
bottom down her legs slightly and then pulled the material to one   
side. He placed the great tool at the entrance to her pussy before   
pushing slowly. It entered her with some difficulty, its width   
pushing her lips apart as it disappeared between her constrained   
legs.  
  
"Oh wow, that's so good" she said with relief, bringing her legs   
back once again towards her breasts. Felix manipulated it slowly,   
pushing it deep inside her, turning it and then pulling it almost all   
the way.  
  
"Want to try?" he asked, kneeling upright beside her.  
  
Lauren smiled, closed her eyes, reached down and gripped the   
rounded end tightly, ensuring she didn't twist the end and turn it on.   
Summoning a little courage, she pushed it in, inhaling sharply as it   
slid hard against the top of her vagina. Through her eyelids she   
could see him, his cock in his hand, stroking himself slowly in time   
with her own movements. She removed it from her pussy, anxious   
to get on with the real purpose of the afternoon, and handed it back   
to him. It glistened. Felix positioned himself once again between her   
legs while she pulled her knickers up again, covering her pussy and   
anus to some extent from his view and preserving the very last of   
her modesty. She felt the hardness of the vibrator against her anus   
and pushed her hand through the bikini to both guide it and be   
ready to stop him if the pain became too intense.  
  
"Push against it, open yourself." he said, pushing gently against her   
opening. Lauren gripped the plastic rod, ensuring that it rested   
against her tight brown hole as evenly as possible. The heat, from   
where she had no idea, began to build again as the muscles slowly   
resisted the intrusion. She threw her head back hard against the   
white pillow, inhaling loudly as the bulbous head pushed the   
muscles apart, opening her. She lunged out, grabbing his leg in   
protest as he withdrew it. Once again dripping in oil, the tool traced   
around her puckered opening, causing ripples of pleasure to resist   
its entry.  
  
Lauren felt it pass the previous point and longed for the sign that   
she had stretched enough to accommodate its width. But still it   
entered deeper and deeper inside her as she felt it slowly slip though   
her fingers. The density and resistance of the tool frightened her,   
unyielding, unforgiving in its journey. It pushed her apart, opening   
her to such an extent that she thought she might be bleeding from   
torn skin or muscles.   
  
"Oh, please. Slowly, really slowly" she said, trailing off in agony as   
he again withdrew and started again. Remembering his words, she   
pushed against him, her anus flowering, accommodating, trying   
desperately to reduce the searing pain.  
  
"That's it. It's going in. The head's almost all in!" Lauren didn't   
acknowledge him. She simply pulled back with all her strength on   
her legs, raising her bottom higher into the air. She whimpered, a   
look of fright on her face as she moved frantically against the tool,   
trying in any way possible to reduce the pain and risk of injury.   
Suddenly, it entered almost freely. She yelped, half from the agony   
and half from the triumphant knowledge that the searing pain would   
not get any worse. Lauren felt it go deeper, knowing for sure that   
he had entered her with all the width. She pushed, exercising her   
muscles as though she wanted to go to the toilet. "Yes, good girl,   
it's gone in easily. Just don't relax quite yet."  
  
Lauren locked her elbows behind her knees and let go of the   
vibrator, spreading her fingers around her anus and pulling at the   
taut globes of her buttocks, opening herself as far as possible to   
allow passage. Again, he withdrew the tool, making her squeal as it   
popped out the last inch.   
  
"Oh, yes!" she gasped as she felt the cold air against her anus. She   
gripped his hand, steadying him in case he had any thoughts of   
going somewhere else.  
  
"Did that feel good?"  
  
A dull pain emanated from her groin. Lauren simply nodded,   
readying herself, pushing her muscles to open her passagewayfor   
the next push. It came almost immediately, Felix pushing while   
using his other hand to spread her pussy lips apart, toying with her   
vagina. He pushed the vibrator deep into her, scaring Lauren until   
she felt down between her legs and found at least two inches still to   
go.   
  
"Bring your legs down" he said, lying alongside her as she stretched   
out. He bent her knees slightly and caressed her bottom, cupping   
the end of the vibrator to stop it coming out. She sniffed, pleasure   
bubbling through her, washing over the pain and embarrassment   
such that she laughed with the intensity of the feeling. She reached   
between her knees and took hold of his cock. A dribble of cum had   
made its way to the surface and she spread it around carefully. They   
kissed, Lauren stretching out noisily in celebration of the deep   
feeling inside her and the pleasure of accommodating the big tool.   
Felix took her breasts in his hands and kissed her nipples, sending   
tiny electrical signals through her body, waking her neglected   
breasts as he ventured up to kiss her neck. She giggled at the   
intensely sensuous flick of his tongue around her ears, pulling him   
close as her tongue explored his neck. He turned her onto her side,   
reducing the pressure from the bed on the tool, then held her tight,   
squeezing her, maximising the feeling that brewed in her soul.   
  
"Turn over, on your hands and knees. Here, I'll help you!" he said,   
gripping her around the stomach and twisting her over. She nestled   
into the warm depth of the pillow, allowing her bottom to push up   
towards the ceiling. She knew that she must look completely   
obscene, bikini at her knees and a greasy pole protruding from her   
bottom. She clutched her breasts, pawing them crudely as he   
pushed again, twisting it occasionally to maximise the intense   
pleasure that now started to build inside her. Sensing her   
encouragement, he slid it slowly in and out, pushing and pulling in   
time with her grunts and movement.  
  
"That's enough for today." he said, cupping her pussy.  
  
"No. Oh, for God's sake, Felix! Oh, please, let me come!"  
  
"I will, but push the vibrator out. Raise your bottom right up high."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Push, push it out!"  
  
Lauren tensed her muscles and did as instructed, shrieking with   
pleasure as the last two inches slipped out. She collapsed onto the   
bed, laying sideways, feeling the heat between her legs, the flush of   
embarrassment in her cheeks and the urge to go to the toilet   
building deep in her bowels. He lay beside her, almost consoling her   
like a young child, touching her breast carefully as though it might   
cause her pain. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips,   
feeling his slippery fingers sliding up to her face. Her tongue slid   
gently into his mouth, exploring, twisting with his as they pulled   
each other deeper into the embrace. Her legs twisted round his, a   
knee pressing hard against his balls, pushing his cock up to meet her   
inquisitive hand. The skin had already peeled way back down his   
shaft and she tugged it, pulling with her finger and thumb until it   
almost covered the angry red knob.  
  
She pushed it down, hard against the angle it settled at naturally,   
and allowed the shiny end to rest against the entrance to her vagina.   
Felix moved over her, balancing on one hand as he parted her legs   
and prepared to enter her. He looked down, watching as part of   
him disappeared inside. Lauren strained to see, most of her view   
blocked by her breasts and his body. Realising her trouble he   
gripped her head and pulled her up, moving so that she could see   
each stroke and the length of his cock as it plunged steadily into   
her. She sighed contentedly as she flopped back onto the bed,   
bringing her legs up against his ribs, then locking her ankles behind   
his back. As he entered again, she pulled him tight into her,   
squirming under him, pulling him so that his groin rubbed against   
her clitoris.   
  
Felix copied her movements, moving inside her, in and out, round   
and round, his hands finding her buttocks and pulling her up tighter   
into him. He rested momentarily, giving Lauren time to push him   
over on his side, then straddle him. She stared down, pleased with   
the fluency of her movement and the new position. She smiled,   
noting that she was compensating for her presumed lack of   
experience by some rapid learning. Glancing down, she lifted herself   
slowly in the air, marveling as his cock emerged from her pussy.   
She lowered herself onto him, watching as his shaft entered her,   
matching the feeling from her vagina of total occupation against the   
walls and the nudge against the entrance to her womb.  
  
Once again, Lauren ground away on him, her clitoris sending   
warning shots of pleasure through her hot body. Her knees gripped   
his ribs as she increased her stroke, careful to ensure that he   
remained inside her but trying to judge just how far she could rise   
up before crashing down in another erotic stroke. The force of her   
approaching orgasm built again, the walls of her vagina rippling   
with pleasure and anticipation of even greater things to come. She   
felt Felix's cock pulsing inside her.  
  
"I'm coming. Oh Lori..." She pounded up and down on him,   
knowing full well that when he came, the sheer heat and extra width   
of his cock would send her over the edge.  
  
"Yes, come on. Inside me. I want all of it!" she moaned, uncaring   
whether anyone else in the house could hear. Then with a grunt, he   
pushed up into her as deeply as possible, raising his buttocks off the   
sheets as spurt after spurt of cum shot into her vagina. Lauren   
shuddered, climaxing silently as she buried her head in the pillow   
beside him.   
  
Felix shuddered continually as Lauren rose and fell, each heart-beat   
gripping his cock, squeezing spurt after spurt of cum from his balls.   
Without warning, she felt his fingers pulling her buttocks apart   
while still guiding and helping her to maintain her rhythm. His   
fingers slithered towards her hot hole, circling madly around the   
entrance before plunging straight into her. Deep, searing heat   
melted into another wave of pleasure as he continued to pump   
away, and she thought they would continue forever until she simply   
had to laugh at the sheer pleasure of the moment and the tell-tale   
noise coming from the bedsprings.  
  
She rested quietly, feeling him continue to pump into her, his   
buttocks rising and falling as further spurts filled her inside. He too   
slowed after almost a minute, gripping her lovingly, touching her   
breasts as they squashed against his chest. Lauren looked up, rising   
so that she sat on his still hard cock. Gently, she slid forward to sit   
on his chest, her knees resting against his head, her pussy inches   
from his face.  
  
She looked down between her legs. "Now see what you've done to   
me!" she said, laughing. Cum dribbled out of her vagina, the white   
translucent liquid smeared over her pubic hair, dripping over her   
clitoris and pooling where her anus met his chest.  
  
They rested quietly for many minutes, caressing each other, sharing   
unspoken intimacies with the touch of fingers and heat of their   
bodies. However, true to form, Felix made his excuses and dressed   
quickly, visiting the bathroom for almost ten minutes before   
returning to her room.  
  
He approached the bed. "Hey, have a little sleep!" he said, tucking   
her up and fluffing the pillow.   
  
"What about your 'thing'?" she said coyly.  
  
"Look after it for me"  
  
"Great, so where am I going to keep that?"  
  
He slid his hand under the sheets and patted around until he found   
the vibrator. To Lauren's astonishment, he rolled her very gently   
onto her side and lifted her left leg. Carefully, he pushed the   
weapon down between the soaking valley of her pussy and against   
her anus, pushing it inside her with little hesitation. Lauren almost   
flew back against the pillow, banging her head against the   
headboard.  
  
"Oh Jeeze, Felix" she said, her face screwed in pain.  
  
"Lori, you love it, don't you?" he said, turning her onto her back.  
  
She nodded, eyes still closed, reveling in the aftermath of the pain   
and the advent of the deep sense of pleasure that pervaded.  
  
"Sleep. When you're alone tonight, try it again. In fact, try turning it   
on!"  
  
"Mmm" she said, drifting contentedly as he quietly shut the door   
behind him. Lauren thought she did sleep, maybe for only five or   
ten minutes. But when she woke she knew the vibrator was still in   
place, deep inside her anus between her long tanned legs. Feeling   
the stickiness in her pubic hair and around the tops of her thighs,   
she moved against the sheets, back and forth, wiping herself.   
Concerned, rather belatedly, about messing up the sheets, she   
leaned out of her bed and grabbed her T-Shirt from the floor. Flat   
on her back again, she held one corner and pulled it between her   
legs, delighting in the feeling as the soft cotton caressed her thighs   
and pussy.  
  
She swung her legs off the bed slowly, wondering where and how   
to take out the implement to the maximum effect. Naked, she   
walked through to her lounge, knelt on the sofa with her back to   
the television and looked down between her legs. She couldn't see   
the plastic bulge but knew full well that it was there. Flexing her   
muscles, she rested her head on the sofa cushions and gripped the   
cheeks of her bottom. Relaxing her muscles, she pushed gently,   
slowly expelling the vibrator, laughing coarsely as it tumbled to the   
floor.  
  
"Dirty bitch" she said, louder than she had intended. She picked it   
up with one hand while the other gripped her buttocks as though   
trying hard to keep the pleasure confined within. A mental   
inventory of her feelings concluded that she felt randy, in need of   
orgasm and only partially satisfied with Felix's efforts that   
afternoon. In consideration of her education though, she felt it had   
been a very useful time, especially as she had surprised herself with   
her willingness to participate in his activities. However, she dearly   
needed experience in cock sucking, that was clear.  
  
She showered, hiding the vibrator - after confirming she knew how   
to turn it on and off - in her medicine cabinet. Her thoughts   
returned to her sexual education and recent progress.   
  
Lauren dropped the towel on the floor of her bedroom and stood   
naked in front of her drawers. She looked down, surveying   
objectively the sight below. Her breasts were still her best feature,   
she thought. She felt her stomach, the muscles dormant and   
uninterested in shaping her figure. But at least her stomach was flat,   
she thought. The beginning of her pubic hair showed where her   
stomach gave way to the softness of her mound, disappearing out   
of sight between her long brown legs. She leaned forward, admiring   
their colour to such an extent that she wandered back into her   
bathroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror behind the   
door. Her gaze fixed between her legs, the slightly puffy labia   
parted to reveal the delicacy of her inner lips. She placed her hands   
on her hips, dipping to one side, pouting in the mirror before   
smiling to herself at her reflection. She wondered briefly if she   
should trim her pubic hair. Shave it off for summer. Perhaps that   
was something she would have in store for Felix. Maybe even let   
him do it.  
  
Less than thirty minutes ago, she realised that a man had forced a   
sex aid inside her anus. Then he had made love to her, pumping her   
full yet again of his cum until her young pussy could accommodate   
no more. No traces of him remained after her shower, but the   
thought of their passion aroused her again. Her fingers gently   
traced her pussy lips, feeling both labia gently, simulating his touch.   
Her lips were dry, but the action of her fingers caused sexual   
adrenaline to suggest to her that help was on the way. Lauren   
placed her right foot on the side of the bath and watched herself in   
the mirror.   
  
She shook her head slightly, wondering why she had the almost   
constant need for gratification. It had concerned her recently.   
Nikki's words kept echoing in her mind, reminding her that she   
would get into trouble if she wasn't careful, especially with the two   
children, her position of responsibility and the fact that she was a   
foreigner. She sat on the edge of the bath, legs together and folded   
her arms. Her mother would be horrified if she knew that the   
concerns that she had expressed on the phone and in letters were   
reality and her daughter had even exceeded her worst imagination   
on occasions.   
  
She looked again in the mirror, the dark triangle of curly hair just   
visible as she crossed her legs. Her hair fell over her shoulders, two   
inches longer and several shades lighter than when she had left   
Switzerland - the sun had done that for her. Perhaps she should get   
it cut, really short. Something dramatic now that she was away   
from home and there were only a few people to stare.   
  
With her hands on her hips, she twisted, contemplating her   
reflection. She didn't think she had put any weight on, a testament   
to the pasta and vegetable diet that had replaced her Swiss stodge.   
Her breasts were the same size, and the skin felt firm, taut and   
healthy to her touch. She still wasn't beautiful though. Yes, she   
thought, healthy was a good word to describe her appearance. 'Au   
naturel', developed, almost athletic. She was 'almost' all sorts of   
things, she concluded, as her train of thought meandered through   
her mind. Almost a lesbian, but not quite. Almost in love with Felix.   
Almost satisfied by her afternoon's sex. Almost brown all over.   
Almost ready for tea. She stood, the thin pubic hair of her labia   
covering her vagina, sealing any further notions of arousal for the   
present as hunger prevailed.  
  
Some form of evening dress was required, she felt, as she once   
again stood in front of her drawers. Notions of grandeur were   
replaced within seconds by a thigh length T- Shirt. Knickers were   
forsaken on the excuse that she was only going to make tea and   
have a glass or two of wine before bed. She was tired but the   
thought process continued. She again considered her involvement   
with Emma, concluding yet again that it was she who was forced to   
make love to her, tempted beyond endurance by the young girl.   
Lauren saw no harm in the activity. Girls of Emma's age often have   
crushes on older girls, become involved, experiment and then turn   
their attentions to boys. And if Emma hadn't done anything with   
her, it would have been someone else. Someone much less   
understanding, which would definitely have caused problems.   
Regardless of the reasoning in her mind, her past actions dwelt   
heavily on her conscience, worrying her to a such an extent that she   
argued out loud occasionally as she lay on her bed until base   
instincts took over and she headed for food and drink. 

Chapter 41   
   
Less than forty-eight hours later, the whole country seemed to    
disintegrate. The government's regional commander in the north    
had rounded up a small number of reactionaries, and had intended,    
so the official line went, to bring them to trial. The suspects had    
been shackled and loaded into a truck for transportation south, and    
eventual questioning.    
   
News reports suggested that the truck had encountered problems    
on the journey, losing braking power as it descended into a valley.    
The driver and his mate had leaped from the truck just in time to    
watch it fly though a crash barrier and roll down the hillside. To    
add insult to injury, pictures showed that the truck only fell about    
thirty feet, but rescue workers had taken six hours to get to the    
vehicle, by which time many of the injured had bled to death. Only    
two survived out of the original twenty-eight. Rioting broke out    
before the end of the evening newscast. Rebels bombed several    
police stations in what appeared to be well-rehearsed set pieces.    
Reports circulated of government troops deserting to the    
Nationalists as a result of terror and lack of wages. Lauren    
conferred with Elizabeth and Gustav and it was decided that the    
children would leave, cross the border and fly to Switzerland from    
Venezuela.   
   
It was Emma who heard the vans first. Huge pre-war speakers    
bolted on top, megaphones of doom and destruction. Of course,    
Lauren would not have known if they were announcing the start of    
an uprising or the latest lottery winners. But the message was    
expected and simple.    
   
'Leave now, go south. Move quickly, taking only what you can    
carry. The Nationalists are all murderers and won't spare you. If    
you're male and aged between twenty and forty then stay and    
defend.'   
   
Lauren looked at Emma glumly. It had really happened, just as    
everyone had warned. They grabbed two suitcases each and packed    
in silence. Lauren took as much food and drink as she could carry    
in one suitcase, and clothes in the other. She hid some of her    
personal treasures high up in her cupboards, half hoping that if the    
house was ransacked that people would give up before finding her    
things. Her plan, a slight diversion from that agreed with Gustav    
and Elizabeth, was to drive as far south as she could, then ditch the    
car. Given the war, it would be easy to say it had been stolen.    
However, even before they had gone a couple of miles, Lauren was    
shocked to find a steady stream of refugees already heading south    
through Boquette. Indeed, rather than completing her journey to    
the Post Office, she made a U-turn in the road and went back home,    
her mind muddled with disbelief that she could have become    
involved in something so exciting, so deadly, so un- Swiss.   
   
After their false start, they left once again at almost eleven o'clock.    
The sun loomed brilliantly overhead as Lauren turned for the last    
time to look at her home, the white ranch with the pool that she had    
come to regard her house, full of her children and her problems.   
   
They walked quickly for almost a mile, the countryside passing so    
slowly in comparison to their normal speed along the dusty roads.    
As they approached Boquette, people joined their march, heads    
down, looking at nobody, acutely aware of each other's possessions    
and the troop lorries heading north. Old people sat on the side of    
the road, their wrinkled faces screwed up against the sun and the    
swirling dust. She felt pity for them to start with, but soon began to    
realise that this was what it has always been about. The survivors    
are those who can, and do, as the situation demands. They can get    
up and relocate. They can move out of danger. They can adapt.   
   
The heat was oppressive, and as they trudged along the thin lane    
that led into the square, Lauren realised that they had no chance of    
moving quickly if they carried two suitcases each. The square    
seemed to be in use as a rendezvous point, where several groups of    
twenty and thirty people gathered. Families perhaps, preparing to    
head out. Her clothes stuck to her body. Jeans had seemed a    
sensible idea when they left the house. The pockets were useful,    
and it covered her legs, giving a sense of modesty. But they soon    
became unbearably hot, and even though she stayed in the shade as    
much as possible, the lack of air conditioning proved troublesome.   
   
Many people cried, especially the children and the old. To them it    
seemed as though they were removed from reality, a dazed,    
bewildered expression on their faces, continually facing the    
unknown. For others, though, sheer hard work, pushing rickety old    
carts, some with passengers, all with possessions, forming a long    
line of torment stretching south.   
   
Lauren noticed much of the scenery for the first time, details of the    
local lifestyle that passed her by when she drove through the lanes.    
The broken furniture tucked down the side of houses, rubble never    
removed after houses had been completed. Huge billboards along    
the road advertising coffee, cigarettes, hotels. Within half an hour    
she had seen several old people, crouched or sitting beside the road,    
resigned to their fate, unwilling or unable to continue in the heat.    
And even in their hour of peril, some people stood and sold the    
strangest of things, turning their possessions into cash. Umbrellas,    
watches, a camera, pots and saucepans were all on offer, their    
owners imploring each passer-by.   
   
Lauren's throat was dry, but she dared not open her suitcase and    
pull out the bottled water for fear of starting a stampede. She    
simply trudged along with Emma and Jamie, silently, miserably as    
she became dirtier, hotter and more angry at herself for failing to    
leave when they could have taken the car.  
 
Chapter 42   
   
 By about four o'clock that afternoon, Lauren was exhausted. She    
shuffled off the side of the road and flopped down in the dirt. Jamie    
and Emma followed, glad to sit for a moment. Beads of sweat clung    
to their faces, ready to trace their features, clean paths through the    
dust and grime. Lauren hated the feeling of dirt, the heat    
compounding her distaste and causing her to wonder if staying in    
San Falino would have been the right decision. Switzerland would    
never have had such an exodus of people. Disagreements were    
always settled by a national referendum.   
   
She lashed out at a fly buzzing round her face, cursing at the tiny    
insect as it slipped from her fingers. They watched cars and trucks    
lumber by in both directions, loaded with cargo of arms and soldiers    
to the north and with refugees to the south. She reached into her    
grip and pulled out a can of lemonade, pulled the ring and drank,    
eyeing the line of people all the time, ready to protect the drink    
should anyone attempt to steal it from her. Sharing it with Emma    
and Jamie, she mentally took stock of their situation. To her relief,    
the children had obeyed her to the letter since they left home, and    
she was pleased that they had managed to get so far without injury    
or any problem. But the stifling heat, the dry dusty road and the    
smell of people, sweat and fear all took their toll, adding to her    
imagination and fueling her concern for their safety.   
   
"Lori, where can we stay tonight?" asked Emma, throwing the    
empty can away.   
   
Lauren frowned at her lack of thoughtfulness. "I don't know" she    
replied, more sternly than she had intended. Accommodation was    
indeed a problem, and the thought of camping by the roadside did    
not appeal. A convoy of army trucks roared past them, young    
soldiers watching silently from the rear.   
   
"We'll be warm out here. There'll be loads of people, don't worry!"    
said Jamie. He seemed stronger than Lauren would have thought,    
and certainly had made the mental adjustment to their fortunes.    
"Come on, we should keep going for a while!" he said, standing.    
Lauren followed, pulling Emma up. They rejoined the main crowd    
and settled into the slow column of refugees heading south.   
   
She turned slowly at the sound of shouting. "Hey!" A soldier had    
jumped from a truck parked at right angles to the road and was    
beckoning in their direction. Lauren turned away, trying to    
determine if it was she or someone else that the soldier summoned.    
"Hey!" he shouted again, advancing towards her. Her stomach    
heaved and she felt her sphincter tighten as blood rushed from her    
head.   
   
"M.. Me?" she asked, pointing to herself as he adjusted the rifle    
slung over his shoulder.   
   
"You. You and you. You come. You foreigners. Come now!" He    
approached, the crowd parting and avoiding eye contact, pleased    
that it was someone else being stopped. "You special, not San    
Falino. Come" Lauren was dazed, panicked into making a decision    
of either accepting what could be a generous offer of protection for    
foreign nationals or continuing on the dusty road. She glanced at    
Jamie and Emma, reading their body language. She turned back to    
the soldier and smiled.   
   
"Thanks!" she said, indicating to the others that they should follow.    
The soldier helped them up into the truck with their meager    
belongings and the truck drove off, north. "Oh! Where are we    
going?"   
   
"Where you live?"   
   
"Just north of Boquette" replied Jamie in the soldiers language.   
   
"Ah, very good. Then we take you back. Guard house. No    
Nationalists there. We look after you at house."    
   
Lauren decided not to argue. Three or four other soldiers sat    
further down in the truck, occasionally leering at her and Emma.    
She leaned forward in the seat, weathering the potholed road and    
the wild swings of the vehicle as it lumbered back the way they had    
come. She glanced at Jamie who frowned back at her.   
   
"What?"   
   
"Just seems a bit weird, that's all. Better to get us non-immigrants    
out of the country rather than disperse us again." He stared back    
again at his feet. Lauren could offer no consolation or advice and    
watched helplessly as the familiar streets of Boquette passed them    
by. Within ten minutes the truck pulled up outside the house, and    
they lead the way through the front door. Lauren dumped her bag    
in the hallway and headed for the kitchen, pulling down the note    
from the fridge door.   
   
"Cold drink?" she asked as the officer followed her. She assumed    
he was the senior soldier there, given his two stripes. She    
remembered the lesson at school and the colorful book that he    
listed all the ranks of soldiers, sailors and airmen. Even so, she    
could only guess that he was a Sargeant or Corporal. His face was    
creased from either laughter or squinting, his black mop of hair    
untidily falling over his ears. Several days' beard growth gave him a    
black mask that she felt she disliked. He was perhaps three inches    
taller than her, but many pounds heavier. Forty would be a good    
guess of his age, she thought, younger than her father.   
   
"Yes, beer. My men search house. Just in case." Lauren nodded,    
pouring lemonade from the bottle into three glasses and then pulling    
a pack of beer from the fridge. Suddenly, a scream resounded down    
the hallway. Her initial terror subsided as she realised that the sound    
didn't belong to Jamie or Emma. "Ha!" he said delightedly. The    
scuffles grew louder until a soldier rounded the corner into the    
kitchen, pulling one of the cleaners with him. She was dressed in    
tatty blue knickers and a black bra only. The soldiers conversed in    
Spanish, amusement in their faces. The cleaner stared at the ground,    
obviously ashamed of being caught. To Lauren's horror, the officer    
reached out and felt her breast, squeezing the nipple until she    
screamed. The soldiers laughed as they dismissed her with a push    
out into the garden. "She asleep in bed. Common bitch!" He took    
the beer and made his way to the lounge. Lauren followed, anxious    
to both keep the soldiers away from Emma and Jamie and claim her    
bedroom. Emma and Jamie were in the lounge already, talking to    
two of the soldiers.   
   
"Come on, let's get washed!" said Lauren, encouraging them out of    
the room as quickly as possible. At seven o'clock, Lauren made a    
meal for everyone, raiding their store of canned food in the spare    
room. The soldiers continued to drink, finishing the beer at just    
after eight o'clock and then starting on the wine. They seemed to    
have no care whether it was red or white, sweet or dry and laughed    
like common criminals when Lauren tried to recommend a good    
after-dinner port.   
   
At nine, Lauren ushered Emma and Jamie off to bed, saying to the    
officer that it had been a long day. She watched as his eyes    
followed Emma's buttocks, his beer bottle poised between his lips    
as she disappeared off down the hallway. Shortly afterwards Lauren    
herself went to bed, anxious about the night and the five soldiers    
who now seemed to be living with them.   
   
She showered, dressed in bra and knickers, pulled a T-Shirt over    
her head and crept across the hallway into Emma's room. She slept,    
soundly, also dressed for perhaps only the second time in Lauren's    
knowledge in a T-Shirt. Jamie was also asleep, albeit fitful as he    
tossed and turned on the pillow. She returned, shuddered    
involuntarily and tucked herself into bed. Distant laughter filled the    
night, punctuated by the seemingly endless sounds of the toilet    
flushing and doors slamming. As her muscles relaxed and dull aches    
set in, she sobbed quietly, reflecting on her fortune, the scenes of    
poverty on the road and the dirty, ill-mannered guards that had    
become part of her life. She slept heavily, dreamlessly as the party    
continued.   
   
Lauren sat bolt upright as though someone had flicked a switch on.    
She surveyed her room, noting it was almost four in the morning.    
The curtains were drawn but she knew it was still dark. Then she    
heard the footsteps that she knew had woken her, coming down the    
hallway. They stopped outside her door. A knock.   
   
"Hey!" said a voice.    
   
The officer, she thought. Panic set in, her heart beating loudly as    
her breathing became shallow. "What?" she replied weakly.   
   
"Need wine. Where wine?"   
   
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she swung out of bed and put the    
light on. She smoothed down her T-Shirt and gazed in the mirror.    
"Coming, just a minute!" She checked the clock again. Four o'clock    
and still drinking. She opened the door to see the officer making his    
way back down the hallway. The house stank of cigarette smoke    
and she could see a haze hovering halfway between the floor and    
ceiling of the lounge. The soldiers had made makeshift beds in the    
hallway, their backpacks arranged as pillows, blankets stretched out    
uninvitingly.    
   
Lauren followed a safe distance behind into the kitchen and through    
into the utility room. She reached down into a cupboard and pulled    
out a dusty bottle of Graves. It looked expensive and was quickly    
exchanged for a bottle of Neirsteiner that she knew was less than    
ten dollars. Grabbing a corkscrew, she returned to the lounge. The    
floor was strewn with the tools of their trade. Small arms, rags,    
boxes of ammunition. She thought she recognised an automatic rifle    
of the type she had seen in the newspaper. The smell of oil, smoke,    
drink and urine sickened her. The soldiers were sprawled across the    
sofa, one on the floor, and one gazing out of the window. The    
officer beckoned her across to his armchair, stubbing out a fat cigar    
on the Wedgwood dining plate that served as an ashtray.   
   
"Open. You open"   
   
Lauren sighed, determining that it was best to get them their wine    
then get out as soon as possible. With the amount of drink they    
must have consumed she wondered if there would be an    
opportunity in the morning to decide whether to stay or make a run    
for it when they eventually slept. She turned the corkscrew slowly    
into the neck of the bottle, taking care, as her father had always    
said, to make sure that the screw went all the way through the cork.    
She tugged, but it wouldn't come free. Her arms ached and turning    
away from them, she gripped the bottle between her legs and pulled    
hard. The cork flew out, bringing the soldiers on the floor out of    
the doze. The officer stood, bringing six glasses to her.    
   
"You fill." As she finished the third glass she realised that the sixth    
one was spare and moved it to one side. "No, this you!"   
   
"No, no. I go sleep!" said Lauren, imitating his word power as she    
waved her hands in the shape of a cradle.   
   
"No, you stay. Drink."   
   
She shook her head, dismissing him with finality, and turned to go.    
Her body sensitised, expecting a touch, a hand to grab her. As she    
rounded the corner of the room she breathed a sigh of relief once    
again, stared at the floor and thanked her lucky stars that the    
incident hadn't got out of hand.   
   
"Where you go?" Lauren shrieked as she bumped into the soldier.    
Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle further sounds as her knees    
weakened.   
   
"Leave me alone" she said defiantly, trying to squeeze between him    
and the wall.   
   
"You come" he said, taking her by the arm and back into the    
lounge. He smiled as he pushed her down in front of the officer.    
Without any hurry at all, the officer leaned forward in his chair until    
he was less than a foot from her face.   
   
"You enjoy. You dance for us."   
   
Lauren shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as sorrow,    
anger and fear played with her heart rate. "No, I sleep now!"   
   
"Senorita, you play. Or we take little girl." he said, pointing in the    
direction of Emma's room. He leaned back, turned to one of his    
soldiers and nodded. Familiar disco music filled the room, loud    
enough for dancing but probably not enough to wake the children.    
She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and looked up at him, her    
eyes pleading for mercy, for decency. Her chin trembled as she felt    
her stomach churning with fear. "Dance!" he shouted. She jerked at    
the command, standing with difficulty, checking in his eyes that he    
was serious before moving to the biggest space in the room. Her    
hips refused to move with the music and her arms and feet seemed    
to be dead weights. He handed her his glass of wine. "Drink. Easy    
then!" She reached out and accepted the glass almost gratefully,    
praying that it would dull her senses long enough to get her through    
the ordeal. Relieved that she had bothered to dress in knickers and    
bra that evening, she swayed slowly to the beat, finding areas of the    
room where she could avoid looking at the soldiers, even though    
she still felt their eyes on her.   
   
The officer refilled her glass, stood and swayed over to her. She    
accepted the drink, feeling the sweet wine coating her throat, her    
stomach complaining at the hour of the day. She shuddered as she    
drained the glass, the alcohol lifting her feet and arms into action.    
She dropped the glass and glanced up, horrified to see him flicking    
his tongue towards her, coaxing her into lewd positions as he    
imitated how she should dance. He rubbed his trousers, licking his    
lips, laughing as the other soldiers cheered and encouraged him.   
   
"Hey. You dance sexy. Now!"   
   
She sobbed gently, knowing that with the amount they had already    
drunk and the lack of control over their desires that a sexy dance    
was never going to stop there. She thought about Emma and what    
they might do to her. She prayed that if she woke up she stayed in    
her room - if she wandered out to see what was happening then    
there was no telling what might happen. She danced miserably,    
swaying her hips in time with the music, dipping occasionally as    
they clapped and encouraged her. The officer stood and Lauren    
feared he had read her mind, but he turned right and trudged out to    
the kitchen. Several minutes later, she heard the toilet flush and he    
returned with another three bottles of wine, one of which was the    
Graves.   
   
"You. T-Shirt." he commanded, raising his hands up and down.    
Lauren knew what he wanted and started to cry steadily. She shook    
her head.   
   
"No, please. Please!"   
   
"Up! Now! You obey!"   
   
"Look, I'm a foreign national. I want to speak to the Embassy!"   
   
"No understand. Up. Now!"   
   
But Lauren knew he understood. She could see quite clearly as he    
looked at his soldiers, checking to see if they knew what she had    
demanded. But they were either dozing or too drunk to    
comprehend. She doubted as well if they would have even cared if    
they were awake and sober. Reaching for the hem of her T-Shirt,    
she pulled it slowly over her head and brought it quickly to her    
chest, covering her bra.    
   
The officer reached out, asking for the T-Shirt. Slowly, she gave it    
to him, fearful of getting too close in case he made a grab for her.    
Dropping the T-Shirt, he picked up a bottle of wine and summoned    
her to stand in front of him. She obeyed and he handed her the    
bottle, pushing it between her legs and up to her pussy. It was cool,    
but Lauren was more concerned with his attempt to push the    
corkscrew into the bottle. She held the bottle tight behind her and    
looked down. The end of the bottle was just visible between her    
legs, nestling up against her knickers. One slip of the corkscrew    
would injure her for life. Lauren shut her eyes and prayed,    
whimpering, shaking as he slowly turned the wooden handle. The    
wicked tool squeaked, disappearing inside the cork. She felt the    
back of his hand brush her pussy and shuddered, gripping the bottle    
tighter as he finished turning and started to pull. He pulled upwards    
deliberately, pushing the neck of the bottle between her pussy lips    
as her whole lower body quivered in shame and terror. The pop of    
the cork did nothing to lessen her fears. He took the bottle from her    
as a tear fell onto the label. Half rising from his chair, he pushed her

back into the center of the room, jiggling his hips to indicate that    
the show should continue.   
   
One of the soldiers on the sofa had woken up and now watched    
intently as she moved slowly to the music. She avoided his eyes and    
stared at the carpet, watching her feet with disbelief that anything    
so terrifying could be happening. The officer thrust another drink at    
her and she accepted, draining the glass thirstily as the wine did its    
job and blocked out some of the intense humiliation. He watched    
her closely, then nodded again, his eyes on her bra.   
   
"No, no way!" said Lauren, storming off towards the hallway. Two    
steps later, she heard a double click that needed no explanation. She    
was only surprised that it sounded just like it did in the films. She    
turned to see his revolver resting on his knee. Her chin dropped,    
tears flowing again as her legs carried her back onto her private    
dance floor. He nodded. She reached behind and flicked the catch    
to her bra, holding the thin material against her breasts for as long    
as she could. She surveyed the room, counting the pairs of eyes that    
were now fixed on her chest. All but one - who appeared to be out    
for the rest of the day as he slept with his mouth wide open - sat    
staring at her. Waiting, smiling, reveling in her utter discomfort and    
fear. She dropped the bra on the ground and covered her breasts    
with her hands.   
   
"Dance!" he said, indicating she should drop her hands. Lauren    
complied, sobbing as she slowly let go, her hips barely moving to    
the ridiculously upbeat music. The soldiers, almost in unison, gave    
the appreciative grunts and made sounds like wolves baying at    
night. She shook her head in disgust, knowing that within minutes    
she would be told to take off her knickers and dance naked for their    
entertainment. She could think of no way out of the situation,    
except bolt for the door and run off into the night. She glanced at    
her nipples, relieved to see that they were asleep, flat. She knew full    
well that she found the episode cold, sexless and the overriding    
feeling that registered was one of sickness from drinking so many    
glasses of wine at such an early hour. Her limbs ached as her    
rhythm faltered. With eyes fixed to the floor but peripheral vision    
acute, she waited for the final command.   
   
She tensed as one of the soldiers rose unsteadily to his feet and    
lumbered in her direction. He grinned stupidly as the drink caused    
him to sway past the officer towards the piano. She turned away,    
hoping that he would collapse onto the carpet and fall asleep. She    
resumed jigging again, her movements bland, expressionless, her    
stomach complaining, sending bubbles of gas through her insides.    
Her gut contorted as the officer also rose. She backed away,    
sniffing, shaking her head as though begging for mercy. He reached    
out for her breasts with his hairy hands and Lauren shrieked,    
lurching backwards into the hands of the other soldier. He held her    
tight, pulling her off her feet as she struggled to free herself from    
his bear-hug.   
   
"No, let me go!" she shouted, now not caring if she woke the    
children. The coarse fabric of his uniform rubbed against her back    
while his rough hands held her breasts painfully. He pulled her    
backwards while the officer laughed in her face, dragging her    
against her will until she felt the piano stool against her calves. He    
sat her down roughly, then sat across her lap as he pushed her head    
over one end. The officer steadied her flailing feet, holding them    
both in one hand as though she was a baby about to be changed.    
His free hand loosened his belt, threaded it around her right ankle    
and the piano stool and pulled it tight.   
   
"No! No, please!" she sobbed, her head aching slightly with the    
rush of blood. Her body arched over the stool. She beat her hands    
on the chest of the soldier as he sat on her, but with no effect.    
Laughing at her efforts, he too slipped his belt from his trousers and    
tied it round her neck. He secured the other end to stool legs so she    
couldn't sit up. When he was satisfied he rose and knelt beside her,    
holding the stool for support.   
   
Lauren shifted, testing her bonds. She could move quite easily, but    
would never get away. With her head below the level of the stool, it    
was hard to breath and think, let alone move quickly and slip out of    
the noose. She felt hands over her stomach and felt nausea building    
inside. Fingers traced lines along her thighs, rough, inept, uncaring    
fingers that had no concept of foreplay, only gratification. She    
whimpered quietly, shaking as the blood rushed to her head, her    
stomach and neck muscles tensed as she tried to support her head.   
   
Dull vibrations through the stool told her of the approach of more    
soldiers. She closed her eyes tightly as the tears rolled back over    
her forehead and into her hair.  



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