"Get out." He kept his gun trained on me as I climbed out of the car. The other two men followed, guns drawn, pulling Monique, naked to the warm air, with them.
The road was quiet, carrying an extra gloom from the trees on either side. There was a smell of leaf mould and the grass on the verge was already dampening with dew.
"Stay here-and the usual," the leader said to the driver and prodded me along the verge.
We came in a few steps to a place I should not have noticed in the dark, where the wire, rusted and curled into broken strands, trailed in the moist grass. A torch flashed on revealing an overgrown track through the foliage.
"Through there."
Once in the wood and swallowed by it, more torches flashed on.
"This baby's got a beautiful ass." The voice of the first tough carried loudly through the still air and I could picture him walking behind Monique, playing his torch on her buttocks as they swayed sinuously and unprotected in front of him.
"Keep your voice down," snapped the leader.
And the voice came back, but much quieter, "I'm having a bigger job keeping my prick down." A light slap followed.
"Nice soft flesh, too." came the voice.
A few seconds later we came to an earthy clearing where, unaccountably, old pieces of rusted iron were strewn, and glowed russet in the torchlight.
"Sit down, Crawford," the leader said. "Make yourself at home for the entertainment."
As I looked around and hesitated, he snarled: "Sit down, I said!"
I sat down on the rough, dampish earth, my hands brushing soft, damp leaves and the angular edges of stones.
The leader ranged himself standing behind me so that I could not see him, only sense his rugged presence as the torchlight surrounded me and cut across the clearing where Monique was standing, cold in spite of the warm air and frightened, her bare, firm body cringing from the light.
"We didn't get any orders about procedure," said the leader. "You'd better toss a coin."
The two toughs fumbled in their pockets, unable to take their eyes from Monique, whose horror-struck, brown eyes pleaded from one to the other-no doubt only increasing their desires.
"I am glad you had a girl with you, Crawford." came the leader's voice from behind me. "It was expected you would have and it makes more fun for the boys."
There were murmurs of anticipation from the two toughs as a coin flicked in the torchlight and landed lightly on the earth. The first of the men leaned over it and then smiled with pleasure.
He walked towards Monique who stood mutely where she had been left.
"Baby you're lucky," he said. "You're going to have the biggest prick you've ever had-but not where you expect it."
So saying he unzipped his flies and pulled out an erection which might well have made his words no idle boast. Monique's eyes went down to it, fascinated as by a snake and she cringed away from him. The tough reached out at her roughly and jerked her down on her knees in front of him. He glared over at me where I sat furious and yet with a strange sadistic thrill.
"I always react better to an audience," he snarled and then forced Monique's head down to his loins.
Monique made little whimpering sounds in her throat and tried to pull her head away from the thick rod of flesh and the rounded redness thrusting towards her, but the tough caught her head with one hand while with the other he thrust his penis against her mouth. The lips splayed open against the thrust and in a second, the great organ was partly swallowed up in Monique's mouth. She looked quite dazed and her eyes closed as the tough began to twist about, forcing his penis in and out of her mouth, grazing it between her teeth. He crushed her head against his trousers, pushing it with both hands until almost the whole of his organ disappeared and Monique gave a strangled cough. I thought she might be sick.
The tough's face was flushed and contorted in the cold light of the torches, which played yellow against the still leaves of the nearby trees, adding a small loneliness to the circle of light and light verging into gloom in which we were.
Suddenly, catching hold of Monique's hair, he yanked her to her feet.
"Now baby," he said through clenched teeth.
He whipped a piece of thin cord from his pocket and laced it quickly around her wrists as tears began afresh to slide over her dark cheeks. Moving her to a tree, he bent her over and tied her hands to one ankle, ninning a hand, trembling, over her legs as he did so. With a rough gesture, he forced her against the tree, bottom thrusting, bare and helpless, up and out towards his penis. He moved up behind her, an intensity of desire on his face.
"Open your legs baby," he ordered, forcing them wide, "and maybe you'll have a new experience."
So saying, he spread her proffered buttocks with his hand, gazing for a moment at the firm little anus nestling between them and then he ranged his organ against it. On second thoughts he reached down and stuffed a handkerchief between her teeth-an action which brought guffaws of approval from his cronies.
"Safety first," drawled the leader.
The tough's penis prodded between Monique's buttocks for a moment, while she stiffened and tried to sway her bottom away from him and then, pushing hard and pulling her legs wide he entered slightly. We could see the tip of his penis sucked in as he gave a grunt of pleasure and Monique jerked sharply.
Overcome, the tough caught her waist with both hands and drove hard at her split, breaking right through immediately from the force of his merciless thrust.
Monique, I think, would have collapsed had his body not been bolstering her from behind and the tree in front. Even through the handkerchief came a muffled scream of pain.
The tough, his teeth clenched, showed no quarter. He thrust into Monique's bottom again and again, deeper and deeper until, with a final grind, he forced her to contain him up to the hilt.
"Nobody's ever been here before," he panted, "Look what you missed Crawford."
He pulled Monique's buttocks wider still so that, even from a distance, I could see the growing, enlarging aperture as he withdrew for each separate stab. Gradually he moved his body into her so that his whole weight was resting on her, against her buttocks-all the weight of his big body behind his raping of her backside. His movements began to grow more full of fury, thrusts grew shorter and swifter so that he hardly withdrew an inch before skewering into her rectum again.
He began to gasp, his face contorted. Monique, eyes closed, drooped limply seeming almost unconscious. She was practically standing on her head, it seemed only her bottom, and the backs of her thighs presented to us.
The tough's mouth opened in a great O and his gasps filled the still clearing, hollowly as he leaned his torso and his legs away from her, thrusting forward only with his hips for greater pressure. Swiftly in and in and further in with a growing tension until suddenly his body stiffened, went rigid and a long gasp was pulled out into the night air as he thrust convulsively at her anus, his sperm shooting into the aperture and up into her body. He seemed to contain in himself a reservoir and Monique endured thrust after brutal thrust of his convulsion before he sank slowly over her body gasping.
The leader's voice cut through the sound of his henchman's fading passion.
"Enjoying the entertainment, Crawford? I'm sure the girl friend is."
"You swine. You'll pay for this," I snapped.
"Save your breath." The voice contained a grin. "It's the interval now."
The tough had regained his composure, thrust his deflated organ out of sight, and was helping his friend to untie Monique.
She leaned against the tree, eyes closed in a state of complete and helpless subjection while the second tough kissed her savagely, pressing her hard against the rough bark.
The first of the two took up his position, gun at the ready, on the far side of the clearing, torch playing on the two bodies, one clothed, one naked, pressing together before him.
The tears had dried on Monique's face by n
ow and as the second tough put her on the ground she appeared hardly to know what was happening.
He stood feasting his eyes on her nude curves for a moment and then pulling out his penis flopped down onto her face. His penis, in turn, rammed through her lips and her face was lost in his loins, her black hair flowing out on either side of him as the tough jerked up and down. Monique's head was forced roughly into the earth with each downward flop of his hips and when I began to doubt if she could breathe he suddenly slithered down her body until his rampant penis rested against her mound. Fiercely he pulled up her legs against her breasts so that she was doubled over almost as she had been in the standing position, but face upwards this time. And then he rammed himself into her vagina, burying himself in her passage with his first brutish movement.
Monique gasped-the first sign of life she had shown for some time-and as he swept into her with an animal fervour she began to cry again, so that dumb fury mounted in me. Her whole body being stripped, prostrated, raped and torn asunder by ruffians. What a horrible experience, I thought, for one so sweet and tender. And then-strangely in those circumstances-I remembered the sun on the Sussex fields and I realized with a dulling shock that I was no better than these men. No man, I realized then, could escape. Any who criticized another's conduct with women was, and knew himself to be, a hypocrite in some degree or another, knew himself to be creating an artificial attitude-an artificial emotion even-which would break down on the opportunity.
Hopeless with my realisation, I watched the tough's penis, hard and thick, draw back from Monique and then rush in again like some fierce charging and recharging bull.
And then from a pocket he drew a shortish, thick, hard-rubber truncheon and reaching under her in his passion, pushed it at Monique's anus. The aperture, already raped and loosened, resisted this thicker violation for a moment, but then the tip of the truncheon submerged to an accompanying moan of pain and horror which the tough stifled with his mouth, crushing his lips on Monique's.
As he jerked into her, so he thrust the truncheon until it was almost all swallowed in her backside and the pain must have been intolerable.
Monique's face was screwed up in continuous agony as astride her the tough began to writhe convulsively uttering oaths and obscenities in a mixture of moans until he culminated in a long, furious thrust which contorted his face like Monique's and released him of his bursting load.
As he lay panting, hot on Monique's prostrate, spread-eagled body, his crony's voice stridently called. "Get off her you dope. I'm ready to have a go in the bitch again."
The leader's voice cut from behind me.
"No boy. Mr. Crawford's had enough of the spectacle. Now it's his turn."
The second tough climbed off Monique, adjusting his dress. She lay motionless as both men came towards me.
"Right boys," came the voice from behind me and the two toughs drew out truncheons, one fresh from the secret part of Monique. They came towards me, smiling cruelly and realizing the hopelessness of my position and unwilling to help them by passivity, I swung around and lunged at the leader. He was farther from me than I'd thought. A torch light blinded me and a truncheon struck me a dazing blow across the side of my head. I lurched back, turning wildly towards the other two, my fist cracked hard against somebody's flesh and then heavy, numbing blows were raining down on my head and face. I seemed to be surrounded in an aura of revealing, jumping, hazy light; beyond that, gloom and the blows.
With streaks of pain stinging the heavy ache, I felt myself sinking. Somewhere there was a scream, a muffled noise. Blows seemed to be coming from all around me. My head was dizzy and I had the impression I was lying down although I couldn't remember falling. I felt what might have been a boot in my groin-and all dissolved in darkness....
I was walking from a room to somewhere ... in a palace ... the rooms were vast and tiled ... marble and gold, sumptuous, cushions ... ceiling was lost far above in the mist ... and I was a king and had a hundred wives ... for some reason I was hurrying and I came into a room which was filled with people ... people lying around the room in pairs on cushions and they were my wives ... and when I looked I saw they all had their short tunics pulled above their waists and a hundred different, muscular men were raping them, gorging into their bare and intimate channels ... or was it agreed union? ... were my wives making love to the men, surrendering, bucking joyfully under them? ... I rushed from couple to couple, they ignoring me, and cut off the men's heads ... and as they fell they were my heads ... my faces looking at me in horror ... they were all me and then the wives came towards me, offering themselves, crying....
I came to in the dawn chill of the now pale, indifferent wood and Monique was sitting with me crying. As I stared at her, she bent forward over me and kissed me gently saying something I didn't really take in. I felt dazed and just lay for some time looking up at the sky which was grey with a yellow light from the blue and yellow lines of the coming day making it gleam.
And then I realized that I couldn't see properly out of my eyes and that my face was puffed. I started to raise my hands towards my face and a dozen sharp pains shot through me so that I groaned and stayed where I was.
Then I began to make out the different aches and pains-in my groin, on my arms, my back and my face which must have been very tender. My head was aching and I found it difficult to think of what I was doing there. And then, as the pains became more conscious and sharp, the oddments of the scene began to bring everything back to me-the rusted iron, the scraped, trampled clearing, a little blood, I noticed on the wet, morning earth, the big tree. Yes, the big tree, I twisted my head, painfully and Monique's eyes, red-rimmed, were there and her hands were stroking my hair, her arms clasping me and she was fully clothed.
"Monique, Monique." The sight of her poor, sweet face, the red tear-filled eyes, in which I read now only tears and concern for me, filled me with a slow, consuming anger.
"I'll get the bastards for this," I swore. "The bastards. The bloody bastards."
Monique clasped me, her body trembling slightly, fresh tears starting to her eyes.
"Oh, darling, no! Oh please, no!" she exclaimed, starting to cry. "They didn't hurt me! Really they didn't hurt me!"
She collapsed against me, crying almost hysterically and, in spite of the pain, I dragged myself into a sitting position and held her close, soothing her. The whole thing must have been a nightmare to the poor girl. I could hardly believe now, the injustice of her being dragged into what was solely my affair.
Monique soon recovered bravely and began to soothe my face gently, tears still streaming down hers, with a handkerchief.
"Oh, my love, you're in a terrible state." She shook her head, biting her lips at the sight of me and I supposed I must have been a pretty bloody mess from the colour of her handkerchief. But when I moved again, it occurred to me that I had suffered nothing serious. Everything seemed to be in working order.
I put my hand carefully to my face, tenderly feeling the swollen skin. Nose felt all right, jaw, eyes merely blackened, I imagined-yes, nothing serious. I rubbed my tongue gently round my dry mouth, over my dry, swollen lips. Even my teeth were intact.
Carefully I climbed to my feet as the sky began to lighten all over and the sun to rise. Gingerly I moved my arms about, loosened my shoulders, stretched. Doubtless I had a big bruise in my groin and others in countless places but a few days rest would put me right, I reckoned. I drew Monique towards me, holding her, placing my swollen face against hers and she clung to me, quietly now, and desperately.
"Did you see what happened?" I asked, hesitantly, after a while.
"Yes," Monique answered, after a silence. "They left you and they brought my clothes back for me."
"Did they touch you again?"
"No," she answered. "One of them hit me when I tried to stop them kicking you, but then they thought they heard the driver whistling them and they went off."
We stood quietly for a mome
nt, re-living the night's events and then Monique whispered: "Are you badly hurt anywhere?"
I released her, moving about again for a minute, letting the circulation flow in my chilled limbs. The injuries, now, seemed infinitesimal compared with what I might have suffered-only bruises and a few small cuts and bumps.
"No. They'd be sorry if they knew how lightly I'd got off," I replied.
"Your face is terrible," Monique said, beginning to recover herself, becoming practically concerned for her mate.
"We'd better do something."
I took her hand and we moved along a little track, across which sunlight was now glancing, towards the road. Except for birdsongs the place was as quiet as the night before. The road was very narrow and I doubted whether it carried much traffic even at a reasonable hour.
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