One Hope in Hell

Literotic asexstories – One Hope in Hell by EdDivers,EdDivers
Laszlo Pulitz had been forced to volunteer for the local army when he was eighteen years and one month old. The war had been dragging on for two years when Laszlo was taken.

“We recruit all who might handle a gun,” the patrol leader had said. “against these Variana pigs, who have murdered, raped, and decimated our southern borders below the mountains.” He had gone on to warn the village people, “You, northern people, should flee west in case we are unable to check their advance.”

No one in Laszlo’s village of Diblana, had fully understood why there was a war. Variana’s border with Laszlo’s homeland Padilla ran a vague line through the high Dansas mountains separating the two countries. Their relationship had always been peaceful. Laszlo’s parents had taken him through the northern pass to village festivals in Variana more than once. It had appeared all so neighbourly, even though the languages differed.

The discovery of oil in the flatlands of Padilla had changed all that. Especially since, coincidentally, the state of Variana had acquired a new leader, whose reputation was dubious, and who had gained power through a military coup. True enough, in no time, he had declared that Variana should have some claim on Padillian oil.

Initial talks between governments, had quickly collapsed, and in August two years earlier a platoon of Variana militia had ravaged a small village near the southern pass between the two countries. Reports were so frightening that the Padilla guard were mobilised and some recruitment took place.

With the Variana assaults at the south pass, and violent incursions starting at the central pass, the stories drifting north were horrific. Listening to adults discussing the situation he had heard his mother nervously saying, “They took over one hundred villagers, nearly all the men, into a field and machine gunned them, and many of the younger women were—” Her eyes had glanced nervously in Laszlo’s direction before she added, “—hurt.”

So when he was bundled roughly onto that military truck, with two lads, Daliz and Balin, who were also eighteen, Laszlo barely had time to wave farewell to his mother and father, before the bend in the road blotted out his past life.

Laszlo had no wish to be a soldier. He was a gentle soul, often the butt of the other boys, since he claimed to like the natural things of life. So often, his father had taken him high into the mountains, and shown him plants that could be eaten. Sometimes they took some home for his mother to prove how nutritious they were.

On that long truck ride he had time to regret that he had not had the chance to say farewell to his girl friend, Nadia. She was two months older than Laszlo, and they had been getting closer and closer. Laszlo had kissed her fourteen times. He kept a score of things like that, and he would miss those kisses.

For the next ten weeks Laszlo found himself in the squalid, harsh conditions of a so-called training camp. Knowing how to shoot was a first priority, and that had been fine for Laszlo. His father had often had him shooting in the mountains. If they killed an animal, it was only for food, and his father had taught him to maintain that respect for wild life. He still recalled killing his first deer. “A brilliant shot,” his father had declared, slapping his shoulder. But seeing the wide, empty eyes of the beautiful animal had made Laszlo weep silently.

So shooting had no problems for him, even the tough sergeant praised his ability. However, the more physical, hand to hand and self defence elements had Laszlo wishing he was dead, a feeling he would have many times in the ensuing months. Frequent failures at overcoming an opponent had the combat sergeant laying his thick cane across Laszlo’s back on several occasions.

But, gradually, the severe training strengthened his body, and before the end, he was able to hold his own against bigger opponents. Always fast, he was able to outrun most of the other recruits, both over short distances, and in mile length runs. His main worry was about what lay ahead.

During the last two weeks of training, some of the battle experienced sergeants, who had fought against the Varians, warned them to harden their hearts against the sights they were going to encounter.

In those final days of training, Laszlo began hearing the word ‘rape’ more and more. Other recruits had heard tales, which, because they were second hand, Laszlo doubted. Tales of women prisoners taken by three men at a time, and then shot. Hard to believe, Laszlo thought. Women had to be respected his mother had always taught him.

At the end of their ten weeks they were warned that the Variana army had become an undisciplined selection of separate rampaging groups, even more deadly than the organised army.

With the other two from his village, Laszlo was allocated to a platoon in the central region. This platoon was settled in a half demolished country house, which maintained sufficient room space, to have a sleeping quarters for about forty men, storage space for weapons and food, and two or three rooms for admin staff. At either end of the crumbling building were, what appeared to have been circular towers that had been severely damaged and were roofless.

On arrival, they were taken to the admin area to meet the Commander, a tall, thin, white haired man, with cold empty eyes, who looked as sinister as his voice as he outlined what was expected of them.

“Above all else you need to be able to fight, to protect our land, and to pay those bastards like for like. You must also be unquestioning in obeying any order. Infringe that and—” He stopped, fumbled at his waist and came up with a large service revolver , which he pointed above their heads, and pulled the trigger.

The bang and the crash of a bullet hitting something behind them had all three recruits cringing. Laszlo was only just able to prevent his bowels from evacuating. The Commander giggled like some little girl, “Yes,” he affirmed, “it will be as quick as that.”

The cold eyes went along their line, stopping at Laszlo. “Do I make myself clear, boy?”

“Y-Yes,” Laszlo stammered.

The Commander leapt to his feet, an angry expression on his face, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t you forget it.” He glanced down at notes in front of him, before scanning the three of them, “Eighteen year olds rarely last long in this outfit.” The grin that came with that was not pleasant. “So there’s a challenge for you all to start with.”

“Now,” the Commander continued, pointing to Daliz, and his grin now was more lascivious, “how many females have you fucked?”

A moment’s hesitation and then, “Two.”

When he pointed at Balin the answer was, “One.”

Laszlo’s turn and he could only admit, “None.”

The Commander said, “Interesting. If you live long enough, your cocks will grow massive with all the activity they’ll get. We’re fighting a dirty war and there’s no room for mercy.” He gave off a mighty guffaw, as he added, “As long as you’re not looking for love.”

Leaving the Commander, they were taken to the sleeping quarters, a corridor of beds, and Laszlo was given a bed that had, the soldier on his right said, “–belonged to Krovas, poor bastard had his guts blown out yesterday.”

A big mountain of a man, shirts sleeves rolled up tight around huge tattooed arm muscles ambled over to Laszlo’s bed, and stood leering down at him, “Think you could beat me in a fair fight?”

Laszlo looked up at the square face, and, being honest, said, “I don’t think I could beat you in any kind of fight.”

This seemed to delight the big man, who laughed and said, “Well, we agree on that one. What about shooting?”

Laszlo knew he had some shooting ability, “Maybe.”

“You think you’re a better shot than me?” The tone was not hostile, more one of surprise.

“It’s possible,” Laszlo said cautiously.

The big man sauntered away, stopped, turned, and said, “We’ll get a chance to see about that. What’s your name?”

Laszlo told him.

“Call me Kanin.”

“But say it with respect,” someone called from down the room, and there was general laughter. Yet Laszlo was relieved that the hefty Kanin had not been as threatening to him as he had first feared.

The first day of horror for Laszlo came early. With a small party of six from the platoon, which included Kanin, they were to reconnoitre the current position of the enemy. This meant staying among the pines above the twisting road of the central valley that would eventually lead into Variana.

Kanin pointed ahead as they came to a bend, and Laszlo saw a cluster of stone houses. “Our last home village before —” he stopped, as the corporal in charge let out a curse.

As they moved closer Laszlo saw about twenty men, in camouflage uniforms, spaced around the village square. They were surrounding an obviously frightened group of villagers, most of them elderly.

“I thought the village had been evacuated,” Kanin whispered.

“So did I,” the corporal said, ” the old folk have been there most of their lives. Couldn’t tear themselves away, I suppose.”

Some of the Varians were yelling at the elderly group. They waved their guns, and slowly the old folk moved into a line, obviously not understanding.

Without any warning, the Varians raised their weapons, rapid gunfire burst out, and unbelieving, Laszlo watched the old people, spurting blood from multiple wounds, pitch forward in the dust. Tears were instant on his cheeks, his whole body shook at the sight of the massacre. Nearby, he saw Kanin raise his own gun, and heard his, “Bastards.”

The corporal hissed ,” No, Kanin. There are too many.”

Just as the gunfire died away there was a high pitched scream, and a youngish woman, mid twenties maybe, rushed out of one of the houses, saw the bodies, and wailing fearfully ran to the body of an old lady. Some of the soldiers gave lustful whoops, as the young woman was grabbed by at least three soldiers, and her clothes were immediately stripped from her body.

Naked, she was flung on her back over the bonnet of a small military vehicle. Laszlo had never seen a totally naked woman. Now he saw full breasts and a patch of dark hair. His blood already chilled, that coldness moved over his skin as grasping hands clawed at the woman’s breasts, and four men unzipped their pants to reveal their erections.

Laughing, and waving his erect penis in the woman’s face, one soldier then positioned himself between her thighs, while others held her there, while fingering her body. Her harrowing screams horrified Laszlo, as the penis disappeared between the woman’s thighs..

“Out of here,” the corporal whispered. “Our duty is to report back.”

The men and Laszlo began to follow him. Laszlo saw Kanin didn’t follow as they moved away. The woman’s screams became ever more agonised. Kanin had raised his gun, but Laszlo lost sight of him as undergrowth closed behind them.

There was a single gunshot. An angry roar came from below, and Laszlo was relieved when the big man came thundering after them.

“What happened?” the corporal demanded angrily.”I’ll have you—”

“Hush! They’re still puzzling which direction the shot came from, ” Kanin snorted and gave Laszlo a reassuring nod. “They had other things on their empty minds.”.

Breathless, shocked, tears still dampening his cheeks, Laszlo asked, “Which one did you shoot?”

As they moved through the trees, Kanin said, “You don’t hear any screams, do you?”

Laszlo was slow to come to terms with what Kanin was saying, and when he realised, he looked aghast at the big man.

Kanin shrugged, “It’s a bloody war, lad. Doing the merciful thing is sometimes the hardest task of all. Get used to it. You’re due to see much worse.”

Laszlo slept badly that night. Bleeding bodies filled his vision, juxtaposed with a naked lady with a black triangle that soldiers were digging at with their fingers. A single ghostly gunshot woke him up, but that had been in his dreams too.

Over the following months, Kanin’s warning proved to be so accurate, and Laszlo was to learn that cruelty wasn’t all one-sided. Kanin had become a sort of mentor, and told him how their army had changed, “We’re copying the Varian’s, taking on ex-cons, murderers, rapists. Sometime you’ll see our lot behaving as badly as what you’ve seen so far.”

Every day that passed, Laszlo was subjected to greater terrors. One day, while out with a larger patrol they entered a village where several naked female bodies lay spread on the ground. Laszlo could tell that they were some years older than him. But that didn’t make the sight any easier. Each of them looked as though they had succumbed to the weight of many men, and the pools of blood between their legs was testament to that. But in that same village, a man lay strapped to a table.

A corporal went across, and quickly turned away, “Oh, great Lord, it’s Landi. You should see— Fucking amazons.”

Kanin leaned towards a shaking Laszlo, “Landi went missing yesterday. They thought he had deserted.”

From where Laszlo stood he could see that the corpse only had a bloody patch where his genitals should be.

“Those bitches,” snarled one soldier, as he turned away from the sight, a hard man, but even his face was ashen, as he went on, “there’s pieces of his cock all around him. His balls are in his mouth. And –and a broom shank is sticking out from his ass.”

“Who are amazons?” Laszlo asked Kanin.

Kanin’s glance was sympathetic, but his words were frightening, “Varian’s employ big tough female torturers. Evil women. Tease a guy until he gets a hard-on, then jam a hornet’s nest on it, and hold it there.”

Laszlo turned away, but there was nowhere to look that didn’t cry out pain and death. A further two miles through the valley and at another small village, almost totally demolished, they encountered only token resistance, and soon individual Varian soldiers were retreating from the few standing houses. They were firing wild sporadic bursts as they ran away, and one Padillan clutched at his throat, with a hand that was already spouting red through his fingers.

Crouched behind a tree with gun already pointed, Laszlo jumped when a voice behind him said, “Think you can get that one before me?” It was Kanin, and he was indicating a fleeing figure moving into a gap between two houses. Raising his gun, Kanin fired, and a spurt of stone burst from the corner of the house.

Daring to make a slightly mocking, tutting noise, Laszlo sighted along the barrel of his gun and pulled the trigger. The running man threw up his hands, and collapsed, face forward into the dirt and lay still.

Kanin’s massive hand slapped Laszlo’s shoulder, “Well done, so you are good at something.” And his grin was genuinely admiring. Laszlo felt better than he had for some time, and for a moment he thought of his father and the wild deer. But killing a man had had less effect on him than killing that deer.

All shooting done, they approached cautiously, but it looked like the enemy had gone. The remaining houses were checked, two to each house. A triumphant howl went up from one of the houses, and the two soldiers came out, dragging a struggling large woman. Laszlo was struck by her size and her hard, hard face.

Other men raced to aid their comrades, and the woman was quickly stripped naked. Laszlo gazed in amazement at her massive breasts, and muscular thighs, with the black triangle below a bulging stomach, and she called out something in Varian language.

One soldier translated, “She’s not afraid of a hundred of our puny pricks.”

The one first discovered Landi’s body growled, “I’ll not waste any fucking energy on this bitch. Get her on that wall.”

The woman was forced to lie on her back along a broken section of wall, her arms and legs spread on either side. She screamed something else at them, and the man who had interpreted the last time, said, “She’s not frightened of us.”

There was general laughter, and Laszlo just knew he was about to see his comrades commit an atrocity as the corporal stepped up close to the huge spread thighs, took his rifle from his shoulder, placed the muzzle between those thighs, and pushed hard.

The woman, jerked as the barrel went on up into her, and she tried not to show anything but was soon grunting with the pain of it.

“Surgery,” the corporal commanded, still pressing the gun into her. Two men came at her from either side, bayonets in their hands. They each placed the blade of the bayonet against the underside of each breast.

Realising exactly what the word ‘surgery’ had meant, Laszlo had to turn away. He could not watch butchery, but he could not shut out the wild screaming of the woman. There was also the sound of clapping hands as other soldiers applauded.

Laszlo had reached the edge of the village when he heard the corporal yell above the applause, “Ask if she’s ever been raped by a bullet.” That was followed by one gun shot, and a cheer from some of the men.

. Laszlo could admit that vengeance was almost understandable, but wouldn’t just shooting the woman have been enough?

There was, for Laszlo, a distorted sense of satisfaction that he was still alive. Balin, from his village, had been killed on only their third day of combat. Then, out on a patrol, and crossing a patch of open ground rather warily, with Daliz, the other villager, on his right, there came a burst of heavy fire from the trees on their right.

Laszlo had dived to the ground, and sensed Daliz flopping down close by. Immediately Laszlo became aware of warm wetness on his face, and on his hand. As some of the men returned fire, Laszlo looked up and saw the vivid red on his hand, guessed the same red was wetting his face. Had he been hit? There was no pain.

Slowly raising his head he saw that Daliz was keeping his head down. The other men had started moving forward, all guns pointed to where the firing had come from.

“We’re on the move, Daliz,” he said quietly, getting to his feet.

Looking down at his companion, Laszlo froze with shock and repugnance at the sight of the rivers of blood that stemmed from under Daliz, and washed towards him. Without thinking, Laszlo bent to roll him over, and a scream stuck in his throat. Daliz had no chest, and broken ends of ribs jutted up like white rocks in a red sea. Yet his face although spattered with red, looked strangely calm.

Laszlo turned away retching whatever had been in his stomach into the torn earth. Then Kanin was beside him, “Nothing you can do. Come on, move. You’ll get used to it. It’s the bloody war.”

Laszlo knew he would never get used to it. That could well have been him. He tried to take on board Kanin’s continued support and comforting presence. But he was seeing increasing numbers of incidents which illustrated just how callous his own so called colleagues could be..

A typical example came one evening, when he was sitting on Kanin’s bed, telling him about his father’s influence on his shooting, and about the time he had killed his first deer. There was one small patrol out, but there were about twenty or so men in the quarters.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a head popped around the edge. “Oh,oh, one of the Commanders fetchers.” Kanin murmured.

“Ready for a good night, gentlemen?” the fetcher called, and others in the room obviously knew what was coming, because they nearly all stood up yelling with strange enthusiasm.

“I don’t know if you should see this,” Kanin’s voice whispered in Laszlo’s ear.

“What is—” Before he could complete the question, and as the men began to gather, bright eyed and expectant, the door opened wide and a young woman, maybe thirty years old, was dragged in between the two fetchers. They instantly released her and pushed her into the centre of the room.

A worried trembling started up in Laszlo’s stomach, as the crowd of men began circling the woman, gazing at her with hungry eyes, like a tiger would eye a tethered goat.

The woman had fair hair, was quietly good looking, slender with wide hips, under camouflage pants. Her breasts looked bold beneath a service shirt. One cheek was a vivid red, as though she had been slapped recently.

“Won’t talk.” one of the fetchers called as they left. “Commander will be calling in about forty minutes. Save me a piece.”

There were about fifteen men forming the circle around the woman. Comments flew around them as they slowly moved around her, and she just stood there her eyes downcast.

“Should we play, ‘Which hole’?”

“No, any hole.”

“Body looks capable of taking ten to fifteen of us.”

Laszlo saw the woman trembling.

“Nice tits.”

“Need a better look at them.”

“Good idea.”

A soldier stepped in from each side grabbed at the collar of her shirt , and it was torn from her body. Another darted in to grab away the white bra.

For a brief instant, the men stood back, and heads nodded admiringly. “Wow, did she really need the bra?”

“Quite a pair.”

“Fancy a mouthful of them.”

Laszlo had noticed brown nipples before the woman’s arms had crossed over her breasts, and for the first time, she spoke. The men looked at each other not understanding the Varian language. “What did she say?”

A tall, dark skinned man stepped into the circle, holding out his hands towards the woman, “She said, ‘Please don’t hurt me.'” There was a howl of laughter around the room.

“As if we would,” a voice called.

The dark skinned man, reached out, grabbed her arm, and turned her round so that he was pressed close behind her and his hands reached around to clutch her breasts.”I’m only going to fuck you. I’m good at it. Feel my cock against your ass? Nice isn’t it?”

“Table or bed?” Came a cry.

“Table, I think,” the dark skinned man said, still squeezing at the woman’s breast. Then two other men stepped forward gripped the waist band of her pants and pulled them down along with the panties underneath. Another roar of approval went up, as a table was pulled into the area of action.

Laszlo found himself breathing deeply, and was shocked, and disgusted with himself, to feel that his own penis had come semi erect. The woman had, what he suspected, would be termed a generous figure, wide hipped, a narrow waist, and now he was seeing a fairly light tuft of hair.

She started fighting as she was moved back to the table, reaching behind her to scratch at the dark skinned one, and she must have caught him for he growled, “Bitch, you’ll get it tough for that.”

Laszlo slid from his bed and was heading for the door, as many hands pawed at the firm breasts of the woman, rubbed at her flat belly, and tried to stroke between her thighs, which were being pulled wide apart and the woman gave a whimpering scream as dark skin bared his erection, and leaned over her

Laszlo was outside by the time her wailing screams rose to a crescendo, and the laughter and banter coarsened. He looked around to see Kanin close behind him.

“Too much, eh?” the big man said, putting a friendly hand on Laszlo’s shoulder. “Not good to watch.”

Laszlo looked up at him, “Do you never—?” And he waved a vague hand to where the screams were rising and falling.

“Lined up once, in the early days,” Kanin admitted. “Got to my turn, and I looked down at the pitiful look in her eyes, at the mess in her lower regions already, and realised it could have been my own sister or cousin. I turned away, got a jeer, but it’s not my scene.”

“Have you never tried to stop it?” Laszlo asked, trying not to make his tone accusative.

“And get a bullet in the head? No, thank you. All I can do is get away from it. Like you’ve just done. But be warned, if this is too muchfor your sensitivity, there is sure to be worse.”

“But how was she there?”

“You saw it was the Commander’s fetchers who delivered her. Sometimes, and more often lately, a woman is taken prisoner. If a group leader deems she might have information, he keeps her from the lusts of the men, to bring her to the Commander for questioning. Did you know the Commander is homosexual?”

“I’d heard something, I think.”

“Well, his fetchers deliver the woman to him. He asks her questions, slaps her around maybe. But if she stays tight lipped, he advises her of the things his men will do to her. If she remains silent, his fetchers take her to the men’s quarters there.”

“And that’s all?” Laszlo asked, as if that wasn’t enough.

“No, the Commander will be down in half an hour or so. After she’s taken the sexual aggression of maybe ten men. He gives her a last chance to talk, but then leaves the men to finish her off.”

“If she does talk?”.

“He makes a note of what she has to say and then—” Kanin paused,” he shoots her, always where the men shot that amazon.”

A particularly loud scream of agony came to them.

Laszlo slapped his hands over his ears,”Oh, God, how do you escape the screams?”

“Not easily,” Kanin admitted, “maybe put a wall between you and the sleeping quarters.”

That awful scene was repeated on too many occasions, but by then Laszlo had found himself a closed retreat. Many times he had wandered the grounds of the ruined house, which had obvious been a palatial building at one time. Collapsed walls looked in on what could have been a banqueting hall, where the artistic work in what was left of a ceiling was clearly of great elegance.

Then one day he was passing the collapsed towers. He could actually stand inside one, since the remaining wall was barely one or two metres high. The walls of the other were between three and four metres, but rubble and bulldozed soil blocked any sign of an entrance. As he looked at this ruin, a cat suddenly appeared from out of the rubble, a mouse held in its mouth.

Curiosity led Laszlo to inspect more closely. The feral cat, seeing his approach turned and disappeared in a small gap at the edge of a large flat piece of stone. By shifting one or two large stones, Laszlo found the whole flat stone could slide to afford an opening big enough for a man of average build to slide down into.

Excitedly, Laszlo eased himself into the enlarged gap. Once inside he saw daylight to his right, and stooping he shuffled towards that light. He found he was actually encased inside the circular walls of the tower. There was rubble underfoot , but on the opposite side it looked, like what had perhaps been an upstairs floor, was tilted to provide a roof over that end. To Laszlo’s surprise there was an old low bunk bed covered with an absolutely tattered mattress.

Delighted at his find, Laszlo realized this could be an ideal hideaway where he might escape the grimness and cruelty of the world outside. He was fortunate that none of the storage sections were locked. Within days he had purloined a fresh mattress, used a small cupboard as a store for odd pieces of food, like cheese, occasional bread, crisps, a few cans of beans and two litre plastic bottles of spring water.

It became an ideal place to sit and calm his mind after horror on horror of the average day. If the fetchers brought down a new female victim, he would be inside the tower walls where the screams had to be really fierce to be heard at all.

Here he could sit and try to forget the rapacious nature of his comrades. More than anything, he recalled those days in the mountains with his father. Not their hunting trips armed with guns, but times when they’d spend maybe a week, sometimes trekking as far south as central pass. Always they’d take the higher ground where his father would show him how to pick out the best caves, where they could sleep. His father showed him how to catch and cook small rodents and game. He demonstrated how to make a fire without matches, and how, in certain caves, a fire could be built without fear of the smoke being noticed from outside..

Recalling such happy days really helped Laszlo through bad times..He would have liked to tell Kanin, who had become his stalwart friend, but selfishly, he saw this as his only place for solitude, which up to this time had been totally absent.

The cruel raping sessions in the sleeping quarters continued unabated, and on one occasion, Laszlo feared he was going to be forced to take part.

Three days before that occasion, Laszlo was taking a shower with a few others when one of them made a comment about the size of Laszlo’s penis. “You could please a few women with that.” One soldier sneered. Others bombarded him with jeering, maybe jealous, comments. Fortunately, Kanin stepped in to stem the teasing.

Later though, Kanin did remark, “Mind, I hadn’t noticed, Laszlo, but you are generously well hung for a young man.”

The follow up to that came three nights later. A small patrol returned from deep into Varian territory. They had a truck with them in case they made camp. The truck hadn’t been needed, but it had been put to other use.

Corporal Farsi, one of the group leaders, leapt out as the truck stopped outside sleeping quarters, and yelled, “Come and see what we’ve brought you.”

Laszlo as curious as anyone, joined the twenty or so others outside. He was thinking it might be foodstuffs or cases of booze, as they were ushered to the rear of the truck..

Like some theatre act, Corporal Farsi stood on the rear duckboard and with a grand flourish, he pulled the tarpaulin back.

Laszlo’s heart sank, as those around him cheered lustily. Inside the truck were five women, tied to the bars on the side of the truck. They weren’t old women, but they weren’t that young, yet they all had, as far as could be seen, decent shapes. They all looked terrified and two were weeping.

Corporal Farsi looked around the group, “How many want to be in?” Hands shot up, and Farsi counted, “Nineteen. I make that four four’s and a three—” His eyes fell on Laszlo. “Ah, Puliz, these women are longing to have your vast pole up them. One woman to four men—good odds.”

Farsi stepped inside and cut one of the women free, a blond haired woman in pink blouse and skirt. He forced her to the edge of the truck, pushed her into waiting arms, and yelled, “First four by the door.”

The first woman was being touched groped and generally assaulted by many salacious hands, all the way to the door, where the first four men waited with lecherous grins on their faces. They grabbed her and tore at her clothing so that she was stark naked before they disappeared inside.

Kanin had pushed the worried Laszlo to the rear of the crowd, and gestured for him to disappear. The first screams reached his ears as he raced towards his tower retreat. Reaching there, he needed a final look back to ensure no one was following or able to see.

A duet of wild screams assailed his ears before he got the stone open and pulled back into place behind him. On the little bunk bed he lay back, thankful to Kanin for his escape. He tried not to think about what was happening to those poor women back there.

He settled, and forced his mind onto happier times. Thinking of Nadia always helped. He was sure that one day, if he survived all this, they would marry. He recalled her lovely smile, the way her blonde hair would waft across that pretty face, with its blue eyes and full generous lips.

Those lips that had gifted him the fourteen kisses. They were always full of such promise, especially on those two last occasions when their tongues had touched, and she had turned her body so that his hand had been welcomed upon her clothed breast. That, or her probing tongue, had provoked his penis to rise. He believed she was never aware of the effect she’d had..

Outside, the light was fading. Carefully listening, he guessed that there were no more screams, and what that meant, further saddened him. But he left the tower, made his way back, and was delighted to see Kanin waiting outside.

“I warned you it would get worse,” Kanin told him, but his presence helped Laszlo get back to his bed without any recriminations from Corporal Farsi.

Laszlo’s experiences did not get any better, although he managed to stay clear of the many rape situations. As his platoon ventured further into Varian territory, any Varian female became fair game, mostly civilians, but Kanin observed that he was pleased the Varians had the good sense to have evacuated all those under twenty one.

Yet, there was one day in which he, along with Kanin, found a degree of cold blooded satisfaction in dealing with the horrors..

Along the central pass the enemy had been temporarily pushed back so that they found themselves fighting on the Varian side of the mountain, at a point where the heights smoothed down to mere flatland. As they approached a farm, their leader, a corporal, told them that there had been reports of a bedraggled set of enemy soldiers straggling away from the farm. But the corporal advised a cautious approach.

Four men, including Laszlo and Kanin were ordered to check the western farm buildings while another groups checked the east. While Kanin explored one barn, Laszlo moved to another, where he saw that the double doors were partially open.

He flinched as he recognized the sounds that came from within. Such familiar sounds in this hellish environment. A mixture of whimpers and grunts drew a so familiar picture. Automatic rifle at the ready he poked his head around the door, and stiffened. Six men had their attention directed towards what was happening at one of the stalls at the side of the barn.

Laszlo’s heart crashed inside him. A young woman, no more than thirty, who turned out to be the farmer’s wife, was spread-eagled naked, her wrists bound to posts over her head on either side of the stall, while her feet were tied wide apart to the foot of those posts. Two men, one in front, the other behind her, heaved their respective loins upwards into her, causing her helpless body to jerk madly.

That first look took a mere thirty seconds, and even as Laszlo’s troubled brain tried to assimilate the best course of action, both men groaned with final mad thrusts. and fell to one side. For a brief painful, soul searing instant, Laszlo had an open view of a the female figure, rounded breasts, bearing bruises, and from her parted thighs came the dripping of white fluid. But worse, for Laszlo, was the look the pretty woman was bestowing on him, a pleading, hopeful look, a look which cried, “Please stop this.”

Then two of the watching soldiers with stiff cocks on display, went front and back and each entered her forcefully, causing her to cry out. A secondary sound came from the right, and Laszlo saw a man, mid thirties, maybe, bound to a post while two soldiers were holding his head in position, forcing him to watch the woman’s torture. Was this the farmer himself? Oh, the bastards

Longing to shoot the men to pieces, Laszlo knew that a solo move would only draw them onto him. Aching as though his muscles had been torched, Laszlo backed out, hate bubbled strongly inside him. These men were raping their own women now. Kanin appeared from around a nearby barn, and Laszlo waved at him, putting his finger to his lips as his friend approached.

As Kanin came alongside him, Laszlo gestured for him to take a quick look. A growl rolled in Kanin’s throat as he peered around the door. His lips tight, he came back to Laszlo’s side and whispered that there was a single door in the far side, “Wait for my first shot, then burst in blasting.” He turned away, then back, “I’ll try to avoid the woman, but I’ll go for that side. You shoot to the right to get the men holding the husband. Try not to shoot me.” A bitter grin and he was away.

Laszlo was about to put his rifle onto automatic, but then thought better of it. His shooting needed to be specific to avoid hitting the husband. Standing by the open door another pitiful scream came from the woman. It was probably only thirty seconds, but it seemed like an age before Kanin’s shot rang out.

On a deep intake of breath, Laszlo was inside, taking out one of the husband’s captors with his first shot. A burst of quick fire from Kanin dropped most of the men who had been lining up in front of the stricken woman. Laszlo saw that Kanin’s first shot had taken out the rapist who had been taking the woman from the front. He lay on his back, blood still pumping from his head wound, his limp penis fallen back along his pants.

Two dangers remained, the one holding the husband was reaching for a pistol. Laszlo knew he couldn’t take him from this angle, but that problem was immediately resolved as Kanin’s gun boomed once more, and the man fell to the ground, his back bright red.

This left the man who had been taking the woman from behind. He was now holding a knife against the woman’s throat. The woman’s face and breasts were already spattered with the blood of her frontal attacker. Laszlo, only able to see part of the man’s head as he hid behind the woman, sighted along his gun barrel.

Kanin had come sprinting down the barn, but stopped when he saw the knife at the woman’s throat. “Careful, Laszlo. We don’t want to spoil it now.”

Laszlo was ice cold, knowing it was one of the most crucial shots he would ever take. His aim rested first on the woman’s right, weeping, eye. A slight deflection and it was the rapist’s right eye in view. Laszlo squeezed the trigger, and watched the rapists eye burst red, and he disappeared backwards, the knife falling from his lifeless hand.

Laszlo ran to the woman, drawing his bayonet, and at the same time, trying to muster a reassuring smile. The woman was beyond returning any smiles, as Laszlo sawed at the ropes binding her legs.

Behind him he was aware of Kanin going around applying a goodbye shot into each of the bodies. He heard the husband cry out something, and as the woman’s legs came free Laszlo stood up and saw her wincing face. He cut through the rope binding her right arm, she swung forward, much of her weight against him, her free arm around his shoulders.

He freed her left arm and her whole weight collapsed against him, and Laszlo had the crazy, out of place, thought, that this might be the only time he would hold a naked woman in his arms. Then gently he laid her down on a pile of hay, noticing the blood, and the white stuff running on her legs. Then he was being bundled to one side, and looking up he saw the husband’s despairing face as he leaned over his wife.

Laszlo stepped back and looked to Kanin, and could not read the expression on his face, but at last he said, “You did well, Laszlo.”

They were silent for a moment, watching as the wife’s arm rose weakly to wrap around her husband’s neck, and he leaned forward to apply a gentle kiss to her lips. They were both weeping. Maybe time and love would help them recover from their ordeal. Laszlo felt good and bad, both at the same time. He looked again at his friend.

“The bloody war.” Kanin sighed quietly.

Momentarily, Laszlo flared, “This wasn’t the bloody war. This was man’s bestiality to man. Man’s filth.”

Kanin nodded, and they pulled back the door. As they did the husband called after them, with tears streaming on his face, he said something to them, nodding his head.

“What did he say?” Laszlo asked.

“I think it was thank you.”

Laszlo was stunned that he would see that incident as personally satisfying. Had he become so hardened? There was no doubt that he was killing men without any compunction now. Believing them to be the devil’s cohorts.

Despite being able to kill, Laszlo found the horrors surrounding him too much for his sensitive mind. As weeks ran into months, he saw colleagues blown to pieces by mortar shells, found himself lying among body parts, which made him vomit more often than not.. But it was probably the contempt, humiliation and cruelty heaped on women that hit Laszlo the hardest. He just knew he couldn’t stand much more of this mindless barbarism.

Then came the day that, for Laszlo, was to be the worst day of all.. One morning the whole platoon was ordered to be fully prepared, with all their gear for a move north. Apparently the Varians, or a section of what passed for that force, had made a foray through the north pass, and a village called Diblana had been decimated.

Laszlo froze at the news. Diblana was his home village. It was a three hour drive in a convoy of trucks and jeeps, and all the way Laszlo was fearing what he might find.

When the convoy reached the village square, Laszlo leapt from the truck ahead of most of the others. He raced past many damaged houses until he stood at the site of where his home had been. All that remained was a pile of rubble. Laszlo’s heart sank.

“They got away, lad.” The rattling voice had him spinning around to see old Jensa, leaning awkwardly on his walking stick. “Your parents went away west, just after you were taken. They’ll be safe.”

“Did everybody get away?”

The old man hung his head, raised his stick to point at fields beyond the village. “They marched what men there were down that way.” he croaked. “I heard gunfire. I’ve been frightened to look” And the old wrinkled face began to crumble even further. “I was too old to worry them. They weren’t like proper soldiers.”

“Mercenaries,” Kanin’s voice said, as he came and placed a hand on Laszo’s shoulders. “Your house?”

Laszlo pointed to the pile of rubble. Kanin’s mouth twisted, “Bastards,” he swore.

Another fear was in Laszlo’s head, “What about women?”

Jensa pointed his stick again at a damaged white building, “The older ones are hiding in the chapel, frightened to come out.”

“The older ones?”

Jensa’s head nodded slowly, and Laszlo had the impression that he didn’t want to say more, but all he did say was, “Some under forties were taken away in a truck.”

“Do you know who?”

Jensa’s eyes rested on Laszlo, looked away, looked down before he said, “I didn’t see who.”

For sure, Laszlo knew he had. So he had to suffer for the rest of the day, and overnight, as the decision was taken to set out after them at first light. It would be a two hour drive through the pass and there could be an ambush if they were caught in fading light.

Laszlo volunteered to be in the burial party of the men executed. With only a little relief he found that there were only fifteen corpses, all riddled with an excessive number of bullet holes.

If it had been up to him, they would have driven through the pass without delay. However, after a disturbed night under canvas, he was in one of the trucks that set off the following morning. They drove until the mountains were left behind them. Kanin commented how lucky they were that there had been no ambushes.

Then he said how pleased he was that Laszlo’s parents were safe. “Shame about your house, though. This bloody war.”

Soon the foothills became flatland, and the road they were on cut through open fields, broken by groups of trees that might have given cover for an enemy. Suddenly, a mortar was heard and one of the rear trucks exploded in flames.

Within seconds all the trucks were empty, and, like the rest of the squad, Laszlo, alongside Kanin, was lying in the cover of a ditch, while several mortar shells, just short of length, exploded in the field ahead of them.

A sergeant, stooping low came along the ditch issuing orders.”There’s only the one mortar, we’re sure. A group is going to try to get behind that band of trees. There are buildings there, and we’re sure we outnumber these bastards. On the whistle it’s up and head for those trees, returning any fire coming our way. Listen for the mortars, theirs whine in the air.”

Kanin caught Laszlo’s eyes, “A real battle. Don’t worry, lad, we’re going to make it. Easily.They’re amateurs.”

On the whistle, they were up and keeping low, guns poised, they were moving quickly towards the trees. Laszlo could see the broken line of their men advancing, firing as they went.

The field was pitted with holes made by exploding mortar shells. Then small arms fire came at them as they progressed. Laszlo saw one or two of their men go down. Fiercely they returned the fire. Laszlo noted the way Kanin sprayed his weapon from side to side, like he was scything through the enemy.

It became clear that their weren’t that many mercenaries, and Laszlo was beginning to think that this wouldn’t take long. Just as he thought that he became of aware of a whining sound.

Kanin’s face was turned to him as he yelled, “Jesus, Laszlo. Get down.” And his left arm slammed against Laszlo’s back, driving him sideways. Laszlo tumbled down and found himself sliding over the edge of a shell hole, and at that exact moment came a violent explosion, and the earth trembled around him ,stunning him, blinding him, deafening him, taking away all his senses.

Slowly he recovered from the shock of it. Had he been unconscious? He wasn’t sure. Something lay across his back, and putting his hand back, he felt the reassuring arm of his friend Kanin. Moving to sit up, he was aware of the arm rolling down to his legs.

Rolling? Arms don’t roll! He twisted his body to look. Kanin’s arm, with those familiar tattoos, lay at his feet—unattached,

“Kanin!” Laszlo screamed, scrambling up the side of the hole. Over the edge he found the huge bulk of his friend, motionless. He saw the ragged bloodied section where his arm had been, but a further horrific shock was seeing that half of his left leg was gone.

Crawling across the ground he wanted to see if he was breathing. There was a massive pool of blood, soaking into the earth, and pulling himself up level with his friend’s shoulder, he could not prevent a wild despairing scream escaping his lips.

Kanin had no head!

Wildly, desperately Laszlo groped around the area looking down into the hole, searching, searching as though finding his friend’s head would make things all right. He had lost all thought of the battle, which had gone very quiet. He staggered round to the other side of the body and clutched at the hand on his friend’s right arm. He held it and sobbed uncontrollably, hearing Kanin’s steadying voice in his head, “It’s the bloody war.”

Laszlo had no idea how long he sat holding onto Kanin’s hand. When a voice spoke above him he jerked with shock.

“Puliz, are you hurt? You’re covered in blood.” Looking up through tear filled eyes, Laszlo saw Corporal Farsi standing over him, and he was saying, “Jesus, is that—is that Kanin? Oh, sweet mother of God.”

“He saved my life, ” Laszlo sobbed. Corporal Farsi’s hands were under his arms, trying to lift him. Farsi had been one of his least favourite people, but his voice was gentle almost kindly as he said, “Come on, son. It’s over. We’ve got the bastards. Oh, God, the things they’ve done.”

Slowly, unwillingly, Laszlo came to his feet. He saw now that his uniform was covered with blood. It wasn’t his blood. He turned to Farsi, “Kanin’s blood,” he said, dumbly. “Kanin’s—blood.”

“All right, lad,” Corporal Farsi guided him away. He moved reluctantly, looking back at the dear dead mound of broken flesh that had been Kanin.

Totally numbed, Laszlo was lead through the trees. There were ruined buildings, but not by this war. They looked like some kind of historical place, an old fort or castle maybe, but all low stonework now. There was nothing taller than two metres.

Then the bodies began, men with their genitalia missing in most cases, or with bullet holes in their foreheads. Separately, there were the women. In spite of his desperately fragile state of mind, Laszlo forced himself to look. There must have been five or six naked on the ground. All of them were on their backs with their legs spread for obvious reasons. Most breasts showed many savage teeth marks. The last woman, rather chubby , had something sticking from between her lips.

Was it her tongue? A white tongue? Hardly. Laszlo, against his better judgment, leaned forward for a closer look, and stepped back at the disgust of finding the business end of a penis sticking from her mouth. Why? What kind of creatures were they fighting against? Sickened, he turned away.

Then he saw that there was one more naked female. She had been spread-eagled on top of a low wall, one leg on either side. Even as he looked a breeze caused a strand of blond hair to stray across her face. No, not this. It couldn’t be.

Each step towards the body was painful, and, because of the blond hair, the first place he looked was the face. Blue eyes gazed at him blindly, wide in the agony of her last moment. Those lips that had kissed him fourteen times, were strangely twisted, blood and white stuff had seeped from one corner to trail obscenely down her cheek..

Laszlo yelled his anguish to the sky. Turn away, turn away, his brain was urging him. Yet his eyes continued their excruciating journey downward. Breasts, whose skin he had never stroked, bore deep bite marks, and a blood spot replaced one nipple.

Acid rose in his throat. That lovely flat belly looked as though it had been pummeled, and then he was at the fair fuzz, blood streaked, where his fingers would never wander. Beyond that—and now Laszlo vomited into the earth, vomited violently, before he could look back at—at—the bayonet handle that jutted from between her thighs.

Insanely, he grabbed that odious item, and with a misplaced tenderness, drew the blade slowly out of her. The instrument of evil, came away, coated with blood and streaked with white.

Wildly, Laszlo flung the bayonet away into the bushes. Watching it fly away, Laszlo saw the roughly uniformed men who were being pushed out into the open area. There could only have been twelve of them, but the madman that was Laszlo wasn’t counting. Running towards them, clicking his rifle to automatic, he yelled, “Out of the way,” to any of his own.

As his gun chattered into its task, ripping open the chests and groins of the mercenary prisoners, Laszlo sprayed it back and forwards just as Kanin had done. Kanin, now Nadia. He began to turn his rifle around. He wanted to be out of this.

Somebody yelled, then hands grabbed him,” For God’s sake, Laszlo,” from an unknown voice. Something struck the back of his neck and everything went black.

Slowly his senses returned. He was lying on the ground supported against some stonework. “That’s not like Laszlo,” someone was saying. From someone else he heard, “Christ, I thought he was turning the gun on himself.”

He opened his eyes, and to his left he saw with a degree of satisfaction the heap of flesh, blood and tattered clothing. Some of the faces around him, slowly became familiar.

Corporal Farsi was there, his face dark, brow furrowed, ” He lost his mate, Kanin—nasty.”

Laszlo shook his head. His losses on this day were unassessable, “No,” he managed to wave a hand towards the low wall on the right, where the open thighs of Nadia, pointed the bloodied mess of her nether regions at them.

“He’s from that village, Diblana.”

“Did you know her, Laszlo?”

Laszlo nodded, inside he felt empty, “Nadia. My girl.”

“Jesus, Laszlo that’s cruel.”

‘Cruel’ seemed too gentle a word to Laszlo, as he saw one of the men walk over to look down at Nadia’s body. He winced. It was like another violation. But the man came back to say, “Nobody could blame you for what you did. How was there so much blood down there?”

Laszlo told them about the bayonet.

“The fucking animals. You removed it?” Farsi was silent for just a moment after Laszlo’s slow nod. Then he said, “You’ll not want her left like that?”

In his troubled mind, Laszlo had been wondering what he could do. Now it seemed that Corporal Farsi was forcing the pace. “In amongst those trees over there would be decent. Agda, get me a tarpaulin. You two, help Laszlo.”

Laszlo couldn’t believe that this was the same Farsi who had so eagerly set up the rapes. Cautiously, he rose to his feet, and walked slowly towards Nadia’s body. The terrible thought in his mind was that rigor mortis might make it difficult to draw her legs together. Tenderly he lifted her ankle, and her leg came up easily to lie flat along the wall. This indicated that she couldn’t have been dead that long.

Looking down at the mess on her skin he was thinking that it would be sacrilegious to bury her in this unclean state. He turned as someone came alongside him. It was a sergeant he didn’t know, and he was placing a bucket of water near Laszlo’s feet. A sponge floated on the surface.

“We thought you might wish to—” The sergeant indicated Nadia,” “–you know.”

Laszlo, tears starting again, could not express his gratitude. As he bent to pick up the sponge and squeezed it, he noticed that all the men who had been sympathizing, had turned their backs out of respect as he carried out his horrendous task.

Tears were constant as he began at the worst part, her thighs, gently wiping away blood and semen. Hating them, loving her. This, her body, was a sanctum he had never sullied, never really touched, yet he was loving her with only gentility and tears.

When he reached her face, he cleared away the mess that had trickled from her mouth, and as he tried to straighten her lips he wondered if he could make one last act of farewell. Nervously, tentatively, he leaned down, and delivered the fifteenth kiss to lips that were ice cold.

Looking around he saw the two men digging among the trees, and he called out, “Ready,” as he drew her legs together and folded her arms across her chest. Immediately Corporal Farsi was beside him with a tarpaulin, which he spread on the ground.

Carefully they lifted the body down from the wall, which was still heavily stained with her blood. Farsi stood back as Laszlo drew the ends of the tarpaulin over her. Together they carried her into the trees, and the two men there joined in helping to place it gently in the hole they had dug.

That done Corporal Farsi asked, “You want to do the first shovelful?”

Laszlo nodded, and his heart lying heavy inside him, he let soil dribble onto the tarpaulin. He stood back as the work was completed, and the others left.

Corporal Farsi told him, “We leave in fifteen minutes.”

Laszlo nodded and kneeled down at the graveside. He didn’t pray, but thought only of what might have been, of how it could have been with Nadia and him, if it hadn’t been for this war. This bloody war, and Kanin was shifting into his sorrowing.

As he finally stood up he murmured, “I’ll be with you soon, Nadia” For he knew now exactly what he had to do to get out of this whole horror show. His colleagues has viewed his first attempt, and been able to stop him. One bullet was all it would take. He would go to his tower hideaway, and —only one shot.

Soon he was back on a truck among varying noises of sympathy from his comrades. Some only knew of Kanin, and that made Laszlo wonder if his headless body was still lying out there. But as the truck crossed that patch of land it looked as though most of the dead had been removed.

Soon there would be one bullet to count.. He was almost looking forward it.

But on reaching their broken down quarters, they were informed that, in their absence, genuine Variana troops had made an attempted incursion through the central pass. They were ordered to catch a few hours sleep, and be ready early for what looked like being a fierce confrontation.

Laszlo was sure he wasn’t going to sleep. It had been all too much. Then, in planning when to take that single bullet to the brain, he found his thoughts were suddenly on his parents. He had been glad that they were safe, but how would they feel if they’d heard he’d committed suicide?

Right then the grand idea struck him. There was no need to commit suicide. Tomorrow was presenting them with a fierce confrontation. Exposing himself to enemy fire, that was the idea. He’d attempt something rash, and his parents would hear he had died a hero’s death. And he would be away and gone from this bloody war.

And he slept.

Next morning as they prepared to move into the pass, Laszlo found himself looking forward to it. He had no nerves, the events of the previous day had killed all his nerves.

Half way into the pass they were told to dismount from the trucks and advance on foot. A small party came back from the battle line to report that the enemy was well dug in and they had a machine gun positioned on raised ground so that it could sweep the whole valley.

“And we have no mortars,” a sergeant was heard to moan. “Why in hell don’t we have mortars?”

“Nobody can get near enough with hand grenades.”

Laszlo’s heart jumped as he thought, ‘I can. Or at least, I can look as if I tried.”

When they got to the front line, they were able to spread out in a wide arc, exchanging automatic fire with the Varians, but whenever any of their side ventured forward they were immediately cut down by the machine gun fire, which continuously swept back and forth along their position.

Laszlo lying between a tree and a rock estimated that he was just about one hundred metres from the machine gun position. Corporal Farsi and three other men were closest to him, but there was no one who would be able to pull him back. The terrain between him and the machine gun was fairly flat, although the machine gun was slightly raised, and the crew were well protected by surrounding rock.

He had it all worked out. Two hand grenades were tucked in his belt, his gun was on automatic, and he knew he was arguably the fastest runner in their platoon. If the machine gun set off one of the grenades, then so what? If he was close enough when it went off it might do some damage. He’d need to be damned quick to get that close.

Watching the swing of the machine gun barrel, he was waiting for it to be at its greatest angle away from him. That’s when he’d start his suicidal run. Crouching, as though for a sprint race, he watched the spouting gun as it sent bullets crashing against the trees and rocks as it moved away.

Laszlo tensed, this was goodbye then. There wouldn’t be much pain. Not as much as he’d been suffering mentally these past months. The machine gun had reached its furthest distance away from him..

Yelling wildly, Laszlo was on his feet, firing his automatic weapon as he ran. He heard Corporal Farsi’s voice, “Puliz, you fucking idiot.” Keeping his eye on the machine gun barrel moving on its journey back, Laszlo almost grinned. Almost over, and he was making good ground too. Faces stared at him from behind the rock. He fired in their direction and they disappeared.

But the spouting gun barrel was almost upon him, bullets from small arms fire buzzed around his ears like angry bees. Laszlo fired, as his stomach tightened waiting for the hit.

That, he would say later was the moment that the gods who had so far deserted him, suddenly decided to change his luck. The machine gun barrel pointed directly at him, but had stopped firing. Now he could see someone making frantic gestures, he could even hear their desperate shouts. No language needed.

The machine gun had jammed.

Laszlo suddenly realized that he must be within twenty five metres of the post. He drew out a hand grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it. The explosion was pleasing, and he saw the machine gun barrel point crazily upwards. No movement at all. He took out the second one, pulled the pin, noticing that he was almost too close. Lobbing it over the rock was his intention, but was less effective as it exploded on top of the rock.

The next second something struck hard against the side of his head. This is—Blackness.

_____________________________________________

Slowly, as consciousness returned, Laszlo wondered what the black horses were doing galloping away from him. There was a voice, there was more than one voice. “He’s coming around.”

“He’s lucky.”

Laszlo opened his eyes, and his vision cleared quickly. The unit doctor was there, and beside him stood the Commander.

“Was –was I shot?” Laszlo asked, noticing that there was only a mild headache.

The doctor smiled, “You might say, you shot yourself.” And his smile widened at Laszlo’s puzzled look.

The Commander came in here, “I’ve had a full report on your extreme bravery, and your poor handling of hand grenades. Oh, your first one did the job, took the whole machine gun nest out. You, however, were taken out by the second one—” And he smiled “—one of the pieces of rock you blew into the air struck you as you kept on running.”

The doctor moved in and asked how he felt, and Laszlo told him. The doctor removed a bandage that Laszlo hadn’t realized was there. “Oh, fine. No more bleeding, we can leave that off.”

The doctor went away, and the Commander told Laszlo how everyone was talking of his bravery. He said there would probably be a medal to come out of that. “But I lost one of my fetchers in that battle, I want you to take his place.”

Laszlo doubted whether that was a job he wanted—but to refuse the Commander—he was nice when things were right, but to cross him that was something else.

“Good,” he said, after Laszlo’s reluctant acceptance. “If the doc clears you, I’ll expect you at my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

Laszlo was released by lunchtime, but while still in bed, Corporal Farsi came to see him. His eyes were bland as he said, “We thought you were dead when we saw you go down. How not to throw a hand grenade,” he laughed and shook his head.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” Laszlo asked.

The corporal eyed him seriously before saying, “You never intended to live anyway, did you?”

Laszlo did not reply, and Farsi went on, “I’ve seen it many times. Carrying grief is the hardest thing to bear. You likely to try again?”

Admitting that he hadn’t had time to think about it, had Laszlo’s mind switching to Kanin and Nadia. Yes, it was still painful, but what about this offer from the Commander?

“I hear your going to be a fetcher,” Farsi broke into his thoughts. “That’s going to be interesting for you. At least you’ll only be called out for the big battles.”

When he was released from the medic at noon, Laszlo knew he needed to find solitude in order to think through his situation. The tower was the obvious place, but when he got around to that section he found one or two men, lazing out in the hot sun.

Looking up at the mountains always reminded him of his father. Thinking about his father, made Laszlo wonder how proud he might be to hear of his son’s exploits. That led his mind back to the idea of suicide, which led to his new notoriety as the brave one, and this fetcher idea.

At the back of his mind was the way that fetchers forced women into the men’s quarters to be gang-raped. He couldn’t see himself having any part in that. Therefore, the Commander would shoot him. But to refuse the post would get him shot anyway. Suicide by the back door?

Just after seven fifteen the following morning Laszlo presented himself at the Commander’s office. He was introduced to the soldier who was to be his fellow fetcher, a sallow faced, mean eyed individual, who looked at Laszlo as though he’d crawled from under a rock.

“Gozil here will keep you on the right track. All you need to know is you fetch and carry for me, outwards and inwards, and –” His eyes narrowed, “—no slip ups.”

“I’ve been doing it for three weeks now, haven’t I, sir?”

“You have, Gozil, and we can make an early start.” He gave them a leering smile as he said, “Apparently we took a female Varian officer last night. Might be a good day for some people.”

Out of the office, and on the way to the prisoner hold, Gozil was determined to regale Laszo with what this could mean. “These are my favourites, female captives. Sometimes they are plug ugly, but when they’re decent I like to get an early bid in to have a crack at them.”

Laszlo had nothing to say to that, and when they got down to what they called cells, but were no more than broom cupboards with barred windows, the corporal in charge was quick to tell them, “This one’s a bit special. Hope she doesn’t talk, I get off in half an hour. Tell them to put me on the list.”

When the corporal brought the prisoner out, and Gozil had made his expected growl of lust, Laszlo had to admit to himself that this was one hell of a good looking woman. Black hair, pulled back from her high cheek-boned face, wide dark eyes and pert M-shaped lips. Her breasts appeared to want to get out of the shirt, and even in camouflage service pants, the rest of her looked just as good.

“I’ve had a feel of those tits. Great, and no bra.”

The woman’s face showed no reaction. She had her hands tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied together with just enough freedom to allow her to hobble along, between Gozil and Laszlo.

Laszlo was fully expecting his new duties to be the end of him. Never could he allow this lovely woman to be sacrificed to the mob. Nadia was in his mind, as he realised that refusal, would have him shot, but would not protect the woman. His mind began its ticking over.

Even now, as they adjusted their pace to accommodate her shuffle, he caught sight of Gozil’s hand stroking over her breast. Laszlo glanced at the woman’s face. It was completely expressionless, as she gazed straight ahead.

Just short of the Commander’s door Gozil pulled the woman away from Laszlo, slammed her against the wall, and tried to force his hand between her thighs. “Let’s feel what we’re going to get,” he hissed. The woman’s eye had widened in shock and distaste.

But, all within the same action, Laszlo felt the blood rush to his head, and, with all the built up anger of recent events, he grabbed Gozil by the hair and yanked him back and away from the woman, slamming him against the opposite wall.

“She’s not a toy made for your dirty little prick,” Laszlo growled, trying to keep his voice down, so close to the Commander’s office. He glanced towards the woman, who was still against the other wall. Was that a look of gratitude in her eyes? Laszlo would have liked to think so.

Gozil struggled free from Laszlo’s grip, showing no sign of the retaliation that had been expected. He could only mumble pettily, “She’ll have had a few dirty bigger pricks by midday.”

In his gut, Laszlo was realising that he had undergone some kind of sea-change. He could be more aggressive in the face of the ugly events around him. Was it the effect of the cruel deaths of two people he cared about? Or was it that moment of looking into the barrel of a machine gun and thinking it was the end? But he was feeling compelled to take some kind of preventive action now, on behalf of this woman.

A notice outside the Commander’s door ordered them to leave all guns in the rack before entering. They both did that and without further words they knocked and entered. A single wooden chair stood in front of the desk behind which the Commander sat. He gestured for the woman to be sat there. Laszlo bristled at the force Gozil used to get her there. Then they stood back on either side of her.

The Commander leaned across the desk, his cold eyes moving up and down the woman’s body.”Hmm, this is quite some looker,” he mused in that sinister voice. “If she’s uncooperative the men are going to have a lot of fun.”

When he addressed the woman, Laszlo discovered that he spoke the Varian language fluently. In response to his first question he heard the first two words the woman spoke, and when she repeated them a little later, he guessed that her name was Anya Tillia. The Commander’s lips tightened as she repeated the same response over and over.

“Nineteen years old, ” the Commander informed his two fetchers. “Young for an officer. The men will enjoy such young meat.”

He repeated one question several times, without getting any different response from the woman. After the next attempt, the Commander stormed around the table, and slapped her viciously across the face. Then he repeated the action and the woman almost tipped sideways, Laszlo, whose fists had tightened at the first blow, prevented her falling by clutching her shoulder.

At that moment the desk phone sounded, and, his sallow face reddened with anger, the Commander picked up the receiver, listened for only a moment. When he hung up he turned to Gozil. “A supply of new weapons has arrived, Gozil. Would you go down and supervise the unloading, and bring one back for me to inspect?”

Gozil’s face had fallen, “But—” He gestured blindly in Laszlo’s direction.

The Commander’s face darkened,” Are you about to refuse?”

“No, sir.” Gozil whined.

As Gozil closed the door, a little too loudly, Laszlo had a brief moment of rejoicing. Now he had more thinking space to review how he could help this poor woman, this Anya.

The Commander waved a finger at Laszlo, “Come and stand by the desk here, and watch her face when I tell her what to expect when the men get their hands on her.”

Laszlo, moved unwillingly, nevertheless found it a pleasure to be able to look on that face while it was, if not in repose, at least surprisingly calm. And she did treat him to an open glance from her brown eyes. It was unbelievable that, in these circumstances, he could find that pleasing.

The Commander then went into a rapid flow of words, and Laszlo could tell, by the tone of his voice, that he was making his outline as lascivious and vicious as possible. The woman’s lovely face remained as impassive as ever, as though she had heard it all before.

While the Commander ranted on, Laszlo was letting his mind wander ahead. Kanin had told him about the usual procedure , which would mean the woman, Anya, would be led straight to the sleeping quarters. A vague, stupid, impossible idea was taking shape in his head.

At that moment the Commander stopped, and with a final curse at the woman, he said to Laszlo, “Let’s demonstrate what she’s in for. Throw back her shirt.”

Laszlo’s breath stuck in his throat. The woman’ eyes were on him.. “Come on, man. Unbutton her shirt.”

Laszlo moved in front of the woman. He was looking into wide brown eyes, taking in the aroma of sweat and something mystical, as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt.

“Get a fucking move on, man. They’re not going to be that gentle with her in fifteen minutes time.” As Laszlo unfastened the last button so that the shirt began to open revealing tantalizing curves, the Commander said, “Just throw the shirt back off her shoulders.”

Of course, with her hands tied behind her, the shirt could not be fully removed. He did as he was told, and was leaning over her looking at perfectly moulded twin mounds with delicate pink nipples. The woman’s eyes never left his face, as he stepped back.

“Stay there. Stay there,” the Commander urged, busy lighting a cigarette, and as Laszlo moved close to her, he heard the dreadful instruction, “Now, bite her nipples. Bite them hard, but not off. The men won’t want damaged goods.”

What kind of situation was this? Not having ever touched a naked female breast, he was now being ordered to bite her nipples. “For God’s sake, I thought you’d like this. Get on with it.”

Lowering his face towards the sheer beauty of her, wondering whether he should use his hand first, Laszlo tried with the slightest shake of his head, and rapid blinking of his eyes, to convey some meaning to what he intended.

Nervously, he placed his mouth around her right nipple, trying to look up into her face. His lips closed around it, and from somewhere came an automatic sucking action. His tongue actually touched at it. He looked up at her again, and made a deliberate feigned biting action with his jaws, partly so that the Commander would see that.

Then, to his utter relief, this woman Anya, obviously tuned in to him, threw back her head and gasped her agony. She knew. She really read his intention.

“Good, now the other one. A bit harder.”

Giving the woman a little smile this time, they repeated the charade with her left nipple. Again, he found its presence in his mouth most comforting, so much so that, with a little shock, he became aware of a twitch in his groin. That was bad timing. But how wonderful, he thought, to be able to do that for real.

“Right,” came the Commander’s voice, “here. Give her a treat with this on those pink knobs.”

Standing and turning, Laszo was horrified to see that the Commander was holding out his lighted cigarette. “I expect to hear her flesh sizzle,” he laughed cruelly. Laszlo was to wonder later how close he was to leaping over the desk at him, and taking his chances.

Unwillingly, he took the cigarette, as he turned back to the woman, Anya, was it some kind of forgiveness he saw in her eyes for what he had to do. He leaned over her, keeping his shoulders squared so that the Commander would have little view of was happening. After all, he was only interested in her screams.

Holding the cigarette between two fingers, Laszlo moved the lighted end towards her right nipple. At the last moment, he flicked the cigarette around to press the unlit end into her, and took the lit end on the back of his free hand.

The agony of it made it difficult to suppress a grunt, but he saw her head go back and her scream of pain would have to do for him. There was the smell of burning flesh, which had been necessary. Laszlo tried to control his breathing, as he heard the Commander hiss, “Excellent, now the other one.”

Heart thudding inside him, Laszlo repeated the action, pleased that Anya’s wild scream covered his own more pronounced groan.

“Good,” the Commander said brightly, “you enjoyed that didn’t you, Puliz? Stub out the cigarette, and fasten her up.”

Laszlo, dizzy with pain, was happy to pull the shirt back over Anya’s breasts, so the Commander would not see that there was no damage. He only fastened two buttons before he turned back.

The Commander came around the desk, and fired one more question at Anya. Laszlo was finding that she was no longer ‘the woman’ in his mind. Now as she shook her head in response to his question, the Commander turned to Laszlo and said, “Very well. She’s had her chance. Give her to the men. Call it my special treat, and there’s extra beer if they get her to talk. I’ll be down in about forty five minutes.”

Laszlo signaled for Anya to stand, and when she did he grabbed her arm with mock roughness and led her to the door. As the door closed behind them, and Laszlo collected his automatic rifle, she surprised him by facing him and saying, “Thank you,” in clear Padillan.

“You know the language?”

“Only since I was ten.” The look on her face was half amused, half fear, as Laszlo stood there in dumb surprise. That surprise was heightened to shock level, when, without any warning, she leaned into him, placing a warm, moist kiss on his lips, before repeating, “Thank you for what you did in there. Now your duty leads me to my Nemisis?”

Laszlo shook off the brief paralysis her kiss had provoked, and he told her, “I have no intention of delivering you into that kind of Hell.” His brain continued to churn over how he could move his plan into something positive. It was still such an inconclusive idea. If only he’d known what his first task would be, he might have been better prepared.

Quickly he drew his bayonet, and the woman, Anya, jerked away, her eyes wide with fear. Then he asked her, “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes on the blade in his hand, her head nodded. God, even with that frightened look on her face she looked beautiful.

Bending down to her ankles, he asked, “If I cut your legs free, you won’t try to run, will you?”

“Where would I run, with my hands tied behind me?”

Swiftly, Laszlo bent at her feet and sawed through the ropes, “We have to move fast. Just do everything I ask, Anya.” As he stood up, he looked into her eyes, to see if his use of her name had an effect. None showed. She was flexing her freed legs.

“This way,” he said, keeping her ahead of him…

Turning her head, she said, “You know my name. I don’t know yours.”

He told her, as he they made the left turn leading to an outside door, and away from the sleeping area. The store where he’d found the mattress came first, and, on impulse he darted in, grabbed two blankets, before urging her forward to the side exit, where he made a quick check outside to ensure their route was clear. Satisfied, he signaled to Anya, and as she came alongside him she asked, “Where are we going?”

“No more talking for now.” He replied, turning the corner that led to the tower. Up ahead, the mountains rose high and tree covered. Dare he think that far ahead?..

At the tower, after another quick look round, he heaved back the stone and told Anya to clamber down.

“Into a hole?”

Then realizing that she could hurt herself without using her hands, he produced the bayonet again to cut her hands free. This time she winced, as she flexed her arms.

“It’s not deep, you’ll see. Quickly now.”

Having followed her rather hesitant descent, he was pleased to see her face as they emerged in the enclosure of the tower. “Does no one know of this?”

“Only me. I’ve been coming here to escape some of the —” He was going to say ‘rapes’ but decided against that,”—awful aspects of living. We must keep our voices low.”

She stood in front of him, for the first time completely free of any bonds. “Why have you brought me here? Are you keeping me as your personal rape?”

Laszlo tried to keep the anger out of his voice, as he said, “That is the last thing I want.”

“I told you I was grateful. It wouldn’t need to be rape.”

Not seeing the significance of what she was saying Laszlo was ready to burst out, “I’ve told you, I don’t—” That was when she reached out a gentle hand, to take his left hand, and hold it up to look at it.

Her eyes came up to meet his, “Look at those burns. You took them for me. Why?”

“Because you’re a woman. I’ve seen too much of what can happen to a woman.” Laszlo was feeling strangely uncomfortable, as her fingers tenderly stroked over the two blistered areas.

“And the way you pretended to bite my nipples. I was acting agonized but I quite enjoyed it.” Her first smile at him was like a balm.

He wondered if his returned smile was as shy as he felt. From being in charge he felt uncertain, but he admitted, “The first time my adult lips had touched a female breast—and you enjoyed it?”

Her amusement turned to surprise, “The first time? You’ve had a girl friend, surely?”

Laszlo told her about Nadia, and the fourteen kisses.

“Just kisses?” There was a note of disbelief in her voice.

Laszlo nodded, annoyed by this sense of belated adolescence. Living in this environment of almost accepted physical assault he could appreciate her surprise.

They had been standing together at the point of entry, but now she looked across the rubble to where the low bunk bed was shaded from the sun.

“Should we have some comfort?” she said, moving towards that area. Laszlo had the strange feeling that from being his prisoner, this Anya was now capable of calling the shots. But in this case, she was right.

When they were seated side by side she asked, “I still don’t know why we’re here.”

“Mainly to work out a strategy to help you escape.”

“Escape to where?”

Laszlo couldn’t understand her response, and the cynical expression on her face.”Well, back to your home unit.”

Her eyes fixed firmly on his, as she said, “You know what will happen to me if I go back?”

Laszlo was puzzled by her attitude, “What do you mean”

Anya gave a shuddering sigh, “I’ll be raped, maybe to death, but if not, when they’re done with me, then I’ll be shot.”

Laszlo was shocked, “But that means—”

Anya nodded, “If I stay here, I’ll be gang raped and shot, and if I go back, the same. It’s a wonderful world we live in. Now, what about you?”

“Well, because I haven’t delivered you for their sport, I’ll be shot.”

Anya was silent for a while, “So you could still deliver me into their hands, and maybe save yourself.”

Laszlo turned his head away from absorbing the seductive effect of her loosely buttoned shirt, “That was never on my agenda.”

There was no escaping the reality of their situation, and while Laszlo was struggling with options open to them, Anya asked, “If they found us, would you let them take me?”

How would Kanin have answered that? “I’ll keep a bullet for each of us.”

She nodded, and was silent again. After a while, Laszlo knew he could not allow her to go on thinking negatively. Even though his notion was a half-baked one.

“Anya, would you do just about anything to stay alive?”

“That depends what ‘anything’ means?”

The thought had been burrowing in his mind, for some time. He didn’t know exactly what the prospects were, but it offered just a tinge of hope.

“If I told you there was something we could try. A very risky something in so many ways. Would you be prepared to take that risk?”

“Rather than taking a bullet in the head?” And when he nodded, she said, “Then there’s no doubt, I’d take the risk.”

Laszlo told her about his father, and how they had spent so much time in the mountains. “I’m thinking, Anya, if we can make it to the trees on the foothills, I know there are ways to stay alive if we can get up high enough. Food will be our immediate concern, but it is summer. ”

“And in the winter?”

Laszlo nodded, he had one main objective, “If we manage the first part, and we survive, we may find a section midway between the two passes, north and central where we can cut through the militarized zone and make it to the west.”

Anya brought her face close to his, an action that almost took his breath away, “Given our other options, it sounds like the best chance we have.”

“Then you’ll try it with me?”

“Tonight?”

Laszlo shook his head, “Darkness seems sensible, but we need to be able to see where we’re going. So I was thinking, we wait until first light. There will be guards, but I’ll time their passing time.”

They talked for a while about it being a best option, and then with what Laszlo couldn’t believe was a wicked smile, Anya said, “First light tomorrow?” She leaned in so their faces were very close as she said, “Please, Laszlo, let me use some of that time to show my gratitude for you caring about me.”

As earlier, her lips closed over his, but this time the kiss was warmer, moister, and her tongue skidded over and around his. Laszlo’s response was not immediate, but the tingling her tongue aroused along his inner cheek soon had his own tongue wrestling with hers.

They were like that for some time, with her hands roaming up and down his back, while his gripped her shoulders, knowing he should be doing more.. Eventually, Anya broke away, and muttered breathlessly, “Please, let me thank you. Touch me.”

Trembling, Laszlo watched her unfasten the few buttons on her shirt, and pull the garment apart, so he was viewing those noble breasts for a second time, but in much more intimate circumstances. Raising his hand, he hesitated, and noting that, she said, “You know what would be happening to this body right now, if it wasn’t for you?” Her head was nodding, and her eyes were fixed on his face as though to drive in that image.

Tentatively, he placed a hand along the skin of her left breast. So smooth, God, it was so smooth. His fingers tingled at the touch.

“Stroke all over it, Laszlo,” Anya urged.

To Laszlo the sensations were unbelievable, as he rubbed over the stub of one nipple, and heard her asking him to suck it. “You’ve done that recently. Remember?”And her smile was encouraging.

Laszlo had found enclosing her nipple in these circumstances, so much more satisfying. His earlier uncertainties were dropping away as he found the temerity to pass from nipple to nipple, lick and suck, lick and suck. Noticing her thighs in those camouflage pants, parting and coming together, he was very aware of his cock, swelling and heaving like some trapped animal caught in a net.. All this from touching a breast for the very first time?

“Oh, Laszlo, I have such a low threshold when my breasts are pampered. But I’m still not giving anything to you.”

In replying, Laszlo was a little shocked that his voice sounded so squeaky, “You’ve given me your breasts. That was a first for me, and those kisses were special.” His body jerked as he realized her fingers were working on his belt.

Seeing his discomfort Anya gave him a kindly smile, “I do need to show how very, very grateful I am, no matter what is to come.”

Laszlo’s breath was stuck up in his throat as Anya, with no little skill, spread his pants open. God, no woman had ever seen his erect cock, but Anya appeared to be intent on actually touching it. There was a trembling right through his body. Was that what she was really going to do, as she tugged at his boxers. Heat suffused over him as, looking down, he saw her about to lift the band of the boxers over a certain obstruction.

Laszlo knew very well that his erect cock must have burst free, and that Anya was looking at it. Her sharp intake of breath surprised him, but then he heard her murmur, “My God, Laszlo, how have you kept this a secret. It’s just–” For a brief moment he was thinking of Kanin’s protection of him. Then he was gasping in shock as her finger tips trail delicately along his length. She was touching it, and he was sure his balls swelled inside his scrotum.

Laszlo tried to return his lips and tongue to licking, tickling and sucking her nipples. But the effect was to make her hand clench passionately all around his throbbing cock, and she pulled back and forth while a finger stroked over the bulbous, sensitive head.

It was all too much. His cock was too sensitive for this kind of female touch. Laszlo knew exactly what was going to happen, and he could do nothing to stop it.

“Anya, I’m going—” he tried to warn her. A great welling up grew along his shaft. Squirming madly, he looked down, as Anya sensed the situation, still gripping his rod she held it out, away from her, and to his utter shame Laszlo saw the first great white spurts splash out and fall to the ground.

Oh, hell, it was like some bloody volcano. It felt like fire, but looked like snow. Anya was looking at it with apparent fascination, as it went on spurting. Her eyes looked towards Laszlo’s pained face, and she mouthed silently, “Sorry. My fault.”

The flow eased, and Laszlo was given one further shock as Anya’s head dipped and took his dying cock into her mouth, sucking at whatever was left. Laszlo was stunned by her action. He had seen some rapists do it, as an ultimate humiliation. But, like this, willingly? Yet, he couldn’t deny the thrill her mouth had given him.

His flaccid prick dropped from Anya’s lips, allowing her to say quietly, “I can tell by the look on your face that you’re disappointed.” As she talked she was unbuttoning his shirt.

“Not at you, at myself,” he sighed, slightly puzzled by what she was doing.

“Don’t be. Your experience with women is obviously limited.”

“Non-existent, more like. Apart from seeing abuse.”

“I mean,” she replied, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, ” it’s obvious that you’ve never touched a woman intimately. Mmm, good body.” Her hands briefly stroked across his hairless chest.

Laszlo felt as though electrodes had been shot across his skin, as he admitted, “That’s true,” his voice rising just a little as Anya shrugged out of her own already unbuttoned shirt.

She moved in closer her bare breasts pressed against his chest. Laszlo’s insides churned at her nearness, and the thrill of skin against skin. “I’ve been thinking. Suppose we don’t get out of this. Wouldn’t you wish to experience the intimate knowledge of a willing woman’s body, just once before you die? I know that sounds pessimistic, but I’m a realist.”

There was so much truth in her words. He knew his escape plan had no guarantees. Even now, searches would be going on for the pair of them. But her suggestion thrilled him. “You are offering me, a total novice, access to your body? ” When she replied with a solid nod of her head, he went on, “But what good is that for you?”

“For me?” she whispered, and gently kissed his lips. “Given what I could be experiencing right now, I’d much prefer having a friendly, quite admirable, cock inside me.”. And her fingers trailed along his flaccid tool. “Besides, I still haven’t delivered a proper thank you.”

“If I can make it.”

“Oh, you’ll make it.”

Laszlo was ecstatic under her touch, not to mention her words, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, noting how she eased back slightly so that only her nipples teased over his skin. .

Suddenly, jumping to her feet, she added, “Right. Let’s get started.” She was immediately pushing her own pants and the panties down to the ground “I’ve had too much experience to have any shame,” she said, standing tall, her arms held wide. “Does this please you?”

Laszlo had been wondering about her level of experience for a nineteen year old. But for now he was desperately trying to formulate something to say that would do justice to this vision he was staring at. Obviously the breasts were sheer perfection, but the inward curve of waist, swelling out to her well proportioned hips, and the pubic bones just showing on either side of a perfect flat belly were all captivating.

Laszlo’s eyes lingered on the black fuzz that, surprisingly, was not triangular, more of an oval tuft, not quite hiding the subtle beginning of a cleft. Below that the rounded thighs just invited to be stroked.

“Speechless?” Anya said, with a smile.

“God, that’s the word for it. Your body is stunning.”

“All right,” Anya said, as she climbed onto the bed, “stop the ogling, and come and find out more about it. And drop those pants.”

Wriggling out of his pants Laszlo, gave her a mock salute and said, “You can tell you’re the officer in charge.” He was amazed at the lightness in his voice, and the fact that, in this situation, they could cast aside their fears for a while. His own anticipation was so high that he could not believe his cock remained flaccid. He couldn’t imagine it would stay that way

“For the next half hour, I am,” she said, with that delightful laugh in her voice. “You’d better not forget that. Now lie down alongside me.”

It was only a single bunk so they had to cling very close for Laszlo to stay on it. But the required contact of their full length naked bodies, their skins rubbing together was so thrilling, so enervating that Laszlo wondered how long it would take his penis to recover.

They kissed for a short while, hands being very discreet around backs and shoulders, before Anya broke away, and told him, “Now I can’t speak for all women so what I’m going to tell you is directed to what I like.”

“I’m not likely to need to know what other women like,” he said, and although it was a view of their pessimistic future, Laszlo was delighted that they could laugh together about it.

“Right, Laszlo, you know about my breasts so you’d start there.”

Laszlo kissed her and in trying to stroke her breasts found that their cramped situation made any firm caress difficult. “This is all going to be so clumsy.” A sudden brainwave hit him.” Ah, but, wait a minute.”

“What are you doing?”Anya asked, as Laszlo got up from the bed.

He grabbed the two blankets, opened them out, one on top of the other, and spread them on the concrete floor.

“Hard on there,” Anya observed as she slid off the bed.

“For me, yes,” Laszlo said, “but for you—” And he dragged the mattress to take up half the space over the blankets.

“You clever fellow,” Anya said, lying on the mattress. “I think I’ll promote you to corporal.” They laughed again as Laszlo lay on the blanket beside her to kiss her while fondling her breasts.

Laszlo soon forgot any discomfort there might have been from the concrete under the blankets, as Anya broke the kiss to continue instructions, “Now move your hand down. Stroke my belly, or down the side, waist over hip. I like both.”

So Laszlo did both, down over the exquisite smoothness of her belly, briefly touching her black thatch. Then up from hip to waist, a roller coaster ride, and back down again. He noticed Anya’s thighs part..

“There are many ways you can tease me,” she whispered, and her hesitant breathing suggested that it was already happening. “But this is one way. Just run your hand over my bush, let it linger there for a moment and then pass over it and start stroking inside my thigh.”

Laszlo was only too pleased to be following these instructions. Running his fingers through the hairs of what she had called her bush gave him a tugging sensation deep down. That’s when he realized his cock was beginning to rise again.

As that realization struck him, Anya sighed, “Oh, and what is that stabbing at my hip? Very promising.”

For a second he looked into her face, and her brown eyes looked clouded. With passion? He hoped so. Moving his hand down to her inner thigh, Laszlo was amazed, as his open hand made contact, at the extreme smoothness of her skin there. Her whole body was a mine of smoothness, but was there anywhere quite like that inner thigh?

Her voice sounded as though she had just completed a mile race as she gave her next instruction, “With each stroke now, move closer and closer to the top of my thigh, until you feel the tickle of the hair. Oh, yes like that.”

Anya’s next advice, was issued on shudders of breath, “Run your finger along those lips. That’s my labia, if you don’t know. Do they feel ready to burst?”

He didn’t know there name but they felt like pouting lips. His blood pressure was so raised, that he was beginning to worry about his staying power, as his erect cock rubbed itself against her hip, but he managed to reply, “Yes.”

“Just a little pressure on the crack, I’m sure you’ll find it’s moist in there already.”

Laszlo nudged his middle finger against her crack, and was astounded as his finger slid into a swamp of moisture.

“Ooh, that’s it. Gently slide your fingers backwards and forwards, right along, see what your fingers feel.y.”

His fingers were exploring an ocean floor, deep moisture, with rises and falls and hidden caverns. Laszlo could not believe that, at last, he was so close to this secret place. But where was it exactly?

Anya’s voice was so strained that it was almost unrecognizable as she hissed, “Bring your fingers forward. A little more. You’re feeling for a little nub, a button, the key.” It sounded as though she had to force every word out.

Worrying that he would not find this nub, this button, Laszlo had his fingers tracking madly around that area. Then Anya’s almost squeal of delight, “Yes, that’s it.” At that moment his middle finger had touched on what was definitely a little nub, and even as he touched it, it seemed to swell.

“Yes, yes ,yes. Play on it, Laszlo. That’s my clit. My clitoris.”

Laszlo was sure he had heard the men talk about that, the clit. But he was only too happy to have a woman so ecstatic under his fingers after all the abuse he had observed. While his lips still favoured her breasts, he was pleased to let his fingers do just as instructed. Then came her unexpected request.

“Please, Laszlo, move your lips down over my belly, down to where your fingers are.”

Put his mouth down there? Was that going to be all right? Gradually he kissed his way down her body.”Put your head between my thighs. You need to see where you’re going.”

Shuffling his body, and still unsure of her intentions, Laszlo lay with his face close to where his fingers had been working so diligently.

“You see the lips, Laszlo. They should be slightly parted, but put your thumbs on either side, and part them fully.”

Laszlo did exactly as asked and there before him was a wonderful pink floral display, an open rose, with so many petals.

“Can- you- see -where –your- fing-ers- were- wor-king,- my clit?”

All the while Laszlo had been noticing how her words broken into gasps, and this did not change as she said, “Look further back. Do you see where the hole is? ” Laszlo could see it, deeply hidden in pink. This was some kind of Heaven

“Now, put your tongue on that spot your finger was delighting, then trail your tongue all the way along to turn the key.”

Put his tongue there? Again the instruction was unexpected, and just a little off-putting. Is this what people did? Gingerly, he eased his head further between her thighs, sticking out his tongue , until it touched the spot, her clit. Instantly her hips jerked upwards as a low moan issued from her mouth.

That move made sure his tongue was well and truly lodged into her groove, but the sensation of it was not at all what he expected. As he trawled his tongue back, he was surprised by the creaminess of her, and the musky odour was quite appealing.

The tip of his tongue probed into an opening, and that opening widened, and just for a moment, he was sure he felt muscles tugging at his tongue. Then he moved back to tickled at her clit. Anya’s breathing was fast, and uneven now. The more he licked the more heavily her breath came.

Suddenly, she grabbed his head and gasped, “Up. Up into me. ”

Moving hastily up, Laszlo was so aware of his cock head stroking along her thigh.

“Anya, I might—”

He began, but then her hand came down to grasp at his cock, high up near the base. “No, you won’t. I won’t let you.” Her hand guided his cock until he felt the head touching into moistness, and almost instinctively he pushed, and felt the head enveloped. But the pressure from his scrotum was near fever pitch.

Anya’s hand tightened at the base of his cock. He was sure it was rampant and ready to blow, but she urged, “Just stay still for a moment. And while we wait, could you just give my clit an extra stroke.”

Laszlo had to squeeze his hand in between their coupled thighs, but he reached the spot. “Aah,” he heard her murmur, “I’m not far away.”

A couple more tickles with his finger, and the urge to push his throbbing cock deeper was strong. A flexing of her hips ensured that that was exactly what happened. Laszlo found his erection gliding easily through her glorious passage until it seemed to bump against something. Overwhelmed to find he was able to withdraw slightly and thrust again, he felt Anya’s hips continuing to respond.

His mind raced around the fact that he was doing it. He was actually doing it. Really fucking, screwing, humping, whatever they wanted to call it. For the first time he was up inside a woman, and, given his experience in this war, there was both relief and delight that he could have a woman under him, enjoying him doing it.

Her every breath was telling him that she was going along with him. He had tried to kiss her, but her head was rolling from side to side. Her raven hair had come undone and strands were glued across that delicate face. He had done well. This had been no abuse.

But, no sooner his self- praise than he felt his scrotum bursting and with one terrific lunge up high inside her, he was pumping out a fresh white load. Anya’s head stopped swaying as she looked up at him, and gasped, “Keep it—keep it going—I’m—”

His semen was coming in slower spurts, and Laszlo might have relaxed back, but since his cock remained hard, and given Anya’s request, he was able to give the more exaggerated thrusts, and on the third, Anya’s whole body shook, her hips heaved up at him, and Laszlo was desperate to get his lips over hers to quell the loud, wild cries that emanated from her mouth, and might have given their position away.