I once more looked to see if I could discover the source of the blood, if blood it was, which covered that lovely cunt. I could not imagine what it could be from, and fearing that perhaps the frightful and agonized shrieks I had heard might have arisen from the torture of some dreadful internal wound, caused by the violence of the ruffian who had assailed her, I parted the hair of her dear little bush to see could there be a wound hidden by it, but feeble though the light was by which I worked, it was too easy, alas! (for I love a fine, thick, curly forest to adorn the sacred Mount of Venus!) to see every particle of skin under it, and there was not a scratch. On moving about my foot suddenly trod on something soft and flabby; I picked up the object it had encountered and found it to be a cloth covered with blood, and I had hardly to glance at it to recognize the source of all my alarm. Poor Fanny, in fact, had her menses” and the blood I saw was the harmless result. I almost laughed with joy and amusement. But whatever might be the cause of the blood, there could be no doubt that the girl, in such a serious faint, must be in a bad way and I began to get alarmed on that account. I had laid her in a more commodious position, hoping she would come to quickly, as I had generally seen women do who had fainted, but she lay so dreadfully motionless. Her moving breasts alone told my eye that she was alive. They rose and fell but through a very small space. Poor, dear little breasts! I caressed them. I pressed them. I gently pinched the little rosebuds. But Fanny’s eyes remained hard closed. I passed my hand all over her, over her smooth sides, over her dimpled belly, over her precious motte, down her lovely and beautiful thighs. I even slipped my finger again into her luscious cunt, hoping to awaken her from her, torpor, and did arouse the active little clitoris, but though I pressed its velvet lips together, and could feel the clitoris swelling under my titillations, Fanny felt it not. At last I spied a tumbler on the table, and I sprinkled her face and undulating bosom with the cold water. She moved! Cold had done what warm caresses had failed to—she opened her glorious eyes, gazed wildly at me for a moment and then shrieked with fear and dreadful alarm. I clasped her in my arms and tenderly pressed her to me, she struggling violently all the while.
“Fanny! Fanny! Miss Selwyn! Fanny dearest!” I cried in imploring and soothing accents, “it is I! Captain Devereaux! Don’t be frightened, there is no one to hurt you now! I hunted that fellow and he has run for his life!”
My voice calmed her somewhat. The poor girl turned her face to my bosom and clutched me wildly, whilst she burst into almost an agony of weeping, and cried aloud like a child. Her convulsive sobs and almost hysterical movements forced her hard little breasts against me, and I could feel them distinctly, although I had my coat and waistcoat on and she was naked. I caressed her, tried to soothe her, and she clung all the closer to me. I felt I was a brute, but her nudity, the warmth of her body, her clasped arms, and above all the sympathetic sensations her bubbies caused all over my bosom, made my prick stand with tremendous force. I had no idea of profiting from my situation, but I could not help feeling the delicious excitement of the moment. All the time I kept trying to prevail on Fanny to subdue her emotion of terror. I spoke, I know, in the fondest manner. I was much moved myself, and I found myself calling her my darling! My tender, beloved little pet and similar endearing epithets. Fanny at last seemed to cock her ears and listen. Her sobs grew less violent. She left off crying aloud. She turned her face up to mine, and I kissed the cherry lips and tried to dry the flowing tears on her cheeks with my mouth. Oh! she liked that!
“Oh! dear Captain Devereaux, you have saved me! How can I ever thank you?”
“By being good now, dear Fanny! By trying to recover your courage and tell me how that brutal Afghan got into your room?”
“Was he an Afghan? I could not see well! I was asleep and suddenly I felt a hand between my thigh—on me—somewhere—and when I opened my eyes I saw two natives—”
“Two!” I exclaimed.
“Yes! Two! I am sure of it! There was two, one had his big face close to me—the one who had his hand on mean me—somewhere! The other had a knife in his hand and was; grinning! I could see his teeth! Then I shrieked and tried to jump out of bed, but the man whose hand was who had his hand on—who had his hand on—who—”
“Yes I darling!” I said, seeing she was embarrassed, “the man who was attacking you—”
“Yes! He put his hand on my chest and held me down. I hit him in the face, and must have hurl his eye, for he cried out and put his hand to it, and I jumped up, escaped for a moment, and began to call out as loud as I could. He reached round for me and caught me, and I felt him tear my night gown, and he dashed me down on the bed and fell upon me with all his might, and seized my throat with his two hands, and I suppose I fainted then, for I remember nothing else. Oh! how did you come here, dear, dear, dear Captain Devereaux?”
All this time the gentle, frightened girl had her arms round me. She did not appear to know, that except the upper parts of her arms, she was as naked as she was born. In fact, although able to talk now, it was plain to me that she had not yet fully realized her exact position. She clung to me with the grasp of the drowning; and this was what was so charming, and yet so dear, as it was like the embrace of a girl who feels the lively and moving prick giving her rapture beyond compare.
“I had been nervous ever since your father went to Peshawar, Miss Selwyn, and every night I have patrolled to satisfy myself that you were safe. I heard your shrieks and that is how I happened to arrive just in the nick of time.”
Fanny raised her head and looked at me with eyes from which love and gratitude both darted most speaking rays.
“Kiss me!” she cried, with passion plainly thrilling through her, “you are a good fellow!”
I did not wait to be asked twice. I passed my thirsty lips to hers in one long, deep draught, but whilst doing so an idea struck me, what had become of the second Afghan? Had not this occurred to me, I really don’t know what might have happened. I was rapidly losing control over my passions. Fanny was in a glow of more than loving gratitude; a very little pressing and I felt sure she would welcome me between her thighs, and in spite of her “illness’ I should have there and then swept away the charming maidenhead I had discovered to be safe and secure. A standing prick has no conscience, saith the proverb, and for that, mine was worse than standing! It was in a terrible state of agonized extension, and fighting to crack the outer skin!
But that second Afghan!
“Fanny! Did you not say you saw two men? One with a knife?”
“Yes, I certainly did!”
“Where is the second?”
“I don’t know! I suppose he must have run away when he saw you.”
“But where to? Your door is shut! There is only one window and I am certain that he could not get out of that. That man is in the house somewhere.”
I released myself from her clinging embrace and I looked under the bed. I found something, but no Afghan! If you want, dear reader, to know what it was I must refer you to Byron’s Don Juan, Canto I, when the suspicious husband is searching for Juan, whom he suspects to be not far off, and who indeed was couched between the beauteous Julia’s. thighs, under the bed clothes. I forget the exact lines, but, like him, that had found something under the bed, but not what they sought. I fear I am trifling, for indeed the matter was serious enough that I have to write about. .
It being plain that the second Afghan was not in the room, I insisted on searching the house. It struck me, too, as so odd that no one seemed to have been roused by Fanny’s shrieks, and yet I had heard them a hundred yards off, when I was outside the house. Cursing my folly in delaying when each moment might be precious, and for thinking of how sweet it would be to fuck Fanny, when perhaps Amy might be lying ravished or murdered, I sprang to the door though poor Fanny did all she could to try and hold me back. She was alarmed at the idea of seeking danger and her forcing me was selfish. B
ut I persisted.
Between her door and her sister’s was a passage. But I must first say I had picked up the knife my Afghan had dropped. This I held sword-like in my hand. I opened Amy’s bedroom door suddenly and quickly, and there I saw another sight which made me sick with horror. The Afghan was apparently buggering Amy. Apparently? Alas! no! He was actually doing it! And like the other ruffian who I had so fortunately caught just in time to prevent any real damage being done to the suffering Fanny, this Devil’s spawn was so intent on his rich enjoyment that he did not at first notice my entry. All took place so rapidly that I cannot attempt to imitate time in my very true history. I dashed at the villain who withdrew his glistening black prick from poor Amy’s bottom so suddenly that it made a “pop” like a cork coming out of a bottle. He reared himself upright, seized a long knife from off the bed where he had placed it ready for use before he had begun buggering the poor girl, and with a shout of triumphant defiance, and the expression of a fiend courting further victory, he rushed to me crying out, “Ah! Ha! Bahin chut! I eri ida ki chut!” the gentle Hindu and savage Afghan in common, meaning that he who addresses you has defiled and fucked both your (Sister’s cunt! thy mother’s cunt! Terms of abuse used by sister and your mother.) “I have fucked and buggered your sister—I will now bugger thee also!” In my rage I roared in reply, “I’ll be buggered if you do!” quite an unnecessary piece of bad language on my part, because had the ruffian succeeded, I, of course, would have been buggered.
I now found what a mistake I had made in not holding my knife dagger wise instead of as a sword, for before I could make any attempt to stab my huge antagonist he had his knife twice in me, once in my left shoulder, and once in the breast. He was trying to stab me down to the heart through the shoulder, and only that I sprang back his second stab would have succeeded. As it was he cut me terribly all down the left breast. I however caught my knife well into his left side and turned hard. Fanny, screaming at the top of her voice, had fled the moment she saw this second devil, and all the time the combat lasted I could hear the hills and rocky caverns resounding with the shrill shrieks, for she had gone to the open window and was literally yelling. Meanwhile the burly and really immense Afghan was getting the better of me. He was far more accustomed to using the dagger than I was, who had never fought with one in my life. He stabbed me many times, but fortunately, chiefly in the left arm, though I caught some fearful rips in the chest like the first one. I began to fight at random, for I felt bewildered by his extraordinary activity and lightning-like blows which I had to ward off as best I could, or avoid him by jumping from side to side like a cat, but at last a lucky and desperate stab from me laid the red brute lifeless at my feet. I had struck him an upward blow in the stomach, and the keen knife, having penetrated his clothes and outer flesh, passed as through a pat of butter, up to the hilt into his body, and transfixed his heart. He lay on the floor a moment writhing and trampling with his feet, and then he gave a dreadful gasp or two and died! To the last his fierce eyes seemed to bore deadly hatred into mine, and I could not help shuddering even in victory, at the terrible escape I had had.
At first I was overcome with faintness and fatigue. I could hear Fanny yelling, but could not go to her assistance. I sat on the bed next to the motionless Amy and panted. I did not feel my wounds much, but they made me sick. Poor Amy was lying on her face which I could not see. She was stark naked. Her arms were tied behind her back, her elbows being made to meet. The bandages fastened also behind, passed apparently over her face, but confined her rich flowing locks at the back of her head. I had not time, nor spirit to fall to admiring her lovely form, but to this day I see those rich full hips and those beautiful hemispheres, between which was that back entrance so lately defiled by the beastly Afghan’s black prick. At last, somewhat recovered, I began with hands trembling with fatigue and excitement to try and undo the bandages. They were knotted too tightly, and I had to carefully use the knife I held to cut them, and wherever I touched her the blood streamed from me on to her fair white skin, until she looked as if she were weltering in her gore, but at last I succeeded, and got the arms over, and the bandage off her face, then putting my hands under her, I turned her on her back. In doing so I unconsciously grasped two full and firm bubbies which adorned her bosom far more richly than Fanny’s did hers, for, though some eighteen months younger than her sister, Amy was more “grown up” in body than Fanny. I was in an agony to know if the Afghan’s brutal boast was true. Had he fucked as well as he had undoubtedly buggered the unfortunate girl? Hardly noticing the fact then that the bush which curled all over the plump and well-shaped motte under my eyes was far thicker and more grown than on Fanny’s, I slipped an inquiring finger into the palpitating and sweet little cunt, feeling sick at heart with dread and apprehension! Oh! joy! she had not been fucked! Her dear little maidenhead was intact. Buggered she had been, but not ravished. Full of this good and important discovery, I ran to Fanny, whose voice was hoarse, and implored her to go to her sister’s assistance. Already I could hear voices of men running up the steep path, which led from the bazaar in the valley, on the other side of the house, and fearing lest in their zeal to help, a number might break in and discover the two girls naked as they were, I implored Fanny to put on her petticoats and to go and cover Amy. But Fanny had quite lost all self-possession. She indeed went to Amy’s room, but on seeing her naked, bleeding and apparently dead, and the gory carcass of the slain Afghan lying on the floor in a lake of blood, she rushed out again, screaming and crying like one demented. I ran to the door in time to prevent the kotwal from letting any of his men climb in through the window, and I begged him to set guards round the house, to remain where he was, and to send at once for Dr. Lavie and the picket of the regiment. Satisfied that my orders were being carried out, and that though bursting with curiosity neither kotwal nor peons would try to get inside the house, I went to Fanny who was crouched in one corner of the room, endeavoring to assuage her fears, telling her that Amy was only in a faint, and that was my blood and not hers which covered her body. The poor girl had received so many shocks to her nerves that at first it was almost impossible to rouse her to her senses, or make’ her understand that her sister must be attended to. I called her attention to the chattering and hubbub outside, and I really was anxious to get her out of the room, for I could hear the remarks made to each newcomer and ughs! and oh’s! with which each one saluted the dead body of the murdered and unfortunate chokeydar.
I wished this piece of news not to get to Fanny’s ears yet awhile, and at last I persuaded her to go and look after Amy. I threw a dark blanket over the bloody corpse of the abominable Afghan, and Fanny, with visible shudders, picked her steps over the blood-spattered floor. She did not seem to appreciate that she was, to all intents and purposes, naked. The Afghan had not, as the one in Amy’s case had done, torn her night dress completely off her, He had rent it from top to bottom in front, and Fanny still had her sleeves on her arms, short sleeves which permitted her arms to be almost entirely seen.
Perhaps feeling the fluttering remnants of her night dress made her think that she was covered, but as a matter of fact I saw, and as I saw I admired, and as I admired I desired the whole of her body in front, and she looked bewitching, with her eyes wildly glancing about, her sweet little bubbies rising and falling rapidly, as her bosom expanded and contracted with her quick breathing. Her pretty motte pushing out a little into a perfect cushion, rapidly narrowed to the point whence the plump little gem of a cunt showed its deep and tempting line. Her bush was not thick enough to permit me to yet see that line which is visible when a naked girl stands upright and is not conscious that she is displaying her secret charm of charms to an admiring man, and when she sat down beside her completely naked sister I could compare cunts, and fancy which one would give me the greater pleasure to fuck. Goodness! what strange thoughts do get in a man’s mind at inopportune moments! I was perfectly conscious that what I had to do was to r
elieve Amy, and further search the house, and yet there I was debating those two lovely girls’ cunts in my mind, and comparing their bubbies, their forms, their thighs.
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