Feature Writer: Jason Lancing
Feature Title: THE SPANISH INQUISITORS 2
Published: 25.08.2021 / Mr Double Sex Stories
Story Codes: Nuns, Rape, Rituals
The Spanish Inquisitors 2
CHAPTER TWO
Colonel Hans von Schlecht puffed on his expensive cigarette. Disdainfully he let the smoke drift into the face of the young Civil Guard Captain beside him. The two were alone in the German Colonel’s large tent.
Von Schlecht was bored. He and three others were there to help this young Spanish Captain. They were a part of the group of advisors Hitler had sent to gain experience and give professional aid to the Fascist Generals.
But how could professional advisors help in such an unprofessional war? Here they were in the middle of
Andalusia, setting up a refugee prison camp with nothing more than a few tents and a lot of barbed wire. The Guardia Civil Captain was supposedly in charge but he had only four of his own men. The rest of the troops consisted of vicious Moors recently arrived from Morocco.
At least their orders were clear. Try to find blankets and food for legitimate Fascist refugees. Execute on the spot all men, women and children who supported the Republican government. When in doubt, shoot them anyway.
They were interrupted by one of the Civil Guards who brought in a small Spanish looking young girl. Her pretty appearance was marred by her filthy condition and torn dress.
“We rounded her up with other peasants and Socialists. But she says her father is a wealthy landowner here and he is anti-Republican,” stated the soldier perfunctorily.
“I recognize her,” responded the captain curtly, dismissing the guard.
“And are you too a Fascist, young lady?” asked the colonel in perfect Spanish.
“Like my father I am a Carlist,” she responded promptly though she had never thought of herself as having any political leanings.
“And should be shot,” added the Civil Guard Captain bitterly. Seeing the surprised look on the German’s face he explained quickly. “The Carlists support the Church and the King. As such they are anti-Republican but not necessarily pro-Fascist. We don’t even know whether they will fight with us.”
“I’m sure they will eventually, captain,” counseled the German. “Certainly all anti-Republicans ought to unite for greatest strength. Our own advantage comes from the Republicans being split into so many parties-Communists, Socialists, Anarchists, Syndicalists and whatever. There is no reason to shoot this lovely young girl. Especially not such a fine example of Spain’s beauty.”
“She is filthy,” retorted the captain nastily.
“It is not her fault,” said the German thoughtfully, walking over to place his hand gently on her shoulder. Though twisted and tangled he could not help but admire the long black hair that hung down below the short girl’s waist. “What happened to you my dear?”
Dolores blushed and turned her head aside. “I was raped,” she whispered.
“Peasants?” von Schlecht asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Often?”
“Yes.”
“Where is your father?”
“He has gone to Pamplona. My mother and sister live a few miles from here.”
“Her father had gone to join the Carlists,” broke in the captain. “They are strong in the north.”
“I think we should bathe her and find her something clean before we send her home. Perhaps my fellow Germans and I shall have a little party for her before she leaves. She needs time to recover from this blow.”
“Do what you want with her,” said the head of the Civil Guard, leaving the tent in disgust. “Personally, I’d shoot her.”
A guard led the girl off to the public showers. And as von Schlecht had promised she was returned to him later. The other three German advisors were there and greeted her cordially. The man were already sipping wine and in the mood for a little party.
“But could they find nothing better for you to wear?” asked her host kindly.
Timidly the fifteen year old fingered the oversized trench coat she wore. Self-consciously she nodded her head. It was all the clothing they had given her and she was embarrassed by her nudity underneath.
Von Schlecht laughed again cordially and did not pursue the matter. Though hawknosed and angular his graying hair gave him a fatherly look. Dolores felt safe and comfortable with him.
“Well Dolores I have told my companions of your … plight. They agreed we should have a little party to help you relax. See, we have cheeses and oranges and several bottles of Madeira. Will you take some wine?”
“Yes, please. I’d like some,” she smiled at him, giving her face an angelic look. “I’m very nervous.” Feeling more at ease she sat on the edge of one of the cots. The sweet Madeira made her feel warm and pleasant inside. Perhaps the world was not so horrible after all.
“Perhaps you should take off your coat,” suggested a Captain Schneider after the five of them had conversed for awhile. “You would be more comfortable.”
“Oh no,” quickly responded the tiny brunette, her face turning hot red. “I’m quite all right.”
“But you should make yourself comfortable,” persisted the captain, “this is a party. It is so hot and damp in this tent.”
“I … I can’t,” she stuttered badly disconcerted. “You see I … they didn’t have anything for me to wear underneath.”
“That’s all right, Senorita,” smiled the aggressive young German. “We are men of the world. We don’t mind.”
“Oh!” responded the young girl startled. She did not know what to say. Surely he didn’t mean what he said. She’d be naked if she took off the trench coat. He must not have understood.
“Really,” continued Schneider unabashed, “we are new to Spain. It would be such a shame not to enjoy as much of its beauty as we can. And certainly you are a most beautiful young senorita.”
“Please,” she stammered, “you don’t understand. I have nothing else on.”
“He understands,” broke in Colonel von Schlecht with a chuckle, “and I agree with him. Especially after we have protected you from your own Civil Guard and have given you this party. You should not deny us the treat of seeing true Hispanic beauty.”
“Yon must be joking,” the teenager said in alarm.
“It is not much Schneider is asking,” argued the officer. “Don’t be so ungrateful.”
“It is too much,” declared the child in horror. She had thought these people her friends. In anger she hurried to the door. Once again she’d been betrayed. She stepped outside, wanting to run and hide.
About her was cruelty and confusion. The ruthless Moors were in charge. In a large area enclosed with barbed wire and guarded by soldiers huddled women and children, dirty, hungry and half naked. These were the lucky ones.
In a smaller fenced yard stood all the men and women known to be active Republican sympathizers. Regularly they were being led out in little groups of fours and fives to be shot.
There were four men and one young girl standing against the wall of an old house. The firing squad was in front of them aiming their ugly 1909 Lebels. There was a crash as the Moors let loose their volley and the five prisoners doubled over in pain. The soldiers had deliberately aimed for their stomachs and not their hearts.
The wounded Republicans were carried to a heap of others, many still alive and grasping their bleeding guts. The new ones were shoved onto the pile, left to share a slow and agonizing death. In the distance Dolores saw more soldiers hastily digging shallow graves.
The air was filled with the sickening sweet smell of blood and piteous groans and shrieks of the dying. Her eyes smarted from the whiffs of acrid gun smoke.
“There is no place to go,” she said to herself aloud, looking around her in desperation. “There is no place to run.”
“No, there is no place to go,” said Colonel von Schlecht unexpectedly behind her.
Dolores jumped and whirled. He stood in the entrance holding the heavy canvas flap in one hand and smiling at her triumphantly. “The Civil Guard Captain will not let you leave here alive without us. Come back in. At least we will not kiss you.”
“I won’t,” cried the desperate girl angrily.
The German Colonel only looked at her. Clearly she could hear the agonized moans of the wounded. But worst of all were the horrified whimpers of survivors watching their loved ones die. She glanced in dread over at the large compound.
A woman dressed in dirty red hugged three nearly naked children to her. They had just seen their father shot. For yards around, other children and parents wept and prayed in misery.
Suddenly Dolores was overwhelmed by the realization that she did not want to die. If not for herself, for her father and mother, sisters and loved ones. Pathetically she looked back into the eyes of her captor. He was her only salvation. As she watched he impudently unzipped his pants and with deliberate slowness pulled out his long white thin pale prick.
Delores closed her eyes. It would be no worse than last night, she tried to tell herself. And there was her family to think of. And she could not ignore her own selfish desires: the love of green fields and the smell of clover, the warm ground under her naked feet, a husband and children yet to come, a long healthy life still to be lived.
But more terrifying was the recognition that she’d die without hope of salvation. There was no priest here, no chance to confess. Last night she had been pure; today she was tarnished. They had raped her-no sin to her-but she had come. Time after time she had allowed the peasants to climax her. And this was dreadful, undeniable sin.
“Frafllein? Senorita?” murmured the Colonel seductively, stepping back and drawing the tent flap open for her welcome return. “We shall see that at least you leave here and can seek your family,” he coaxed.
Dolores shut her eyes and took a deep breath. This would be the first time she’d ever deliberately sinned. But she did want to live. Was it worse for her to knowingly commit her flesh to lust or to die without salvation because she had been seduced into it last night? But Hell would last forever and this torment with the Germans only minutes. Silently she resolved to find a priest the moment she was released from the compound.
Defeated without a word she stepped inside. The lovely young brunette was greeted only with contemptuous smiles of triumph. She knew what they wanted, knew what to do. She could not look into their eyes. Staring down at her clumsy fingers she unsteadily began to unbutton her coat. She reached the tight buckled belt and searched to unhook it.
“Stop,” broke in the colonel in a patronizing and cordial voice. “We cannot wait for at least a glimpse of the beauty to come.” Confidently he stepped up to her and spread the lapels of her trench coat wide, baring her chest.
Schneider jumped to his feet and to the laughing crowd began to pose a toast to further embarrass the young virgin when suddenly the laughing ceased and they all stared engrossed at the lovely girl’s breasts. They stood silent until at last Colonel von Schlecht cleared his throat and spoke.
“Pardon our consternation, Senorita,” he commented reverently, “but we did not expect you would be quite so beautiful. Especially for one so small and slender.”
Appreciatively the four stared at Dolores’ boobs as she hung her head in shame. Her gorgeous white creamy mounds rose from the confines of the coat proudly and regally, flawless in their shape and color. They jutted forth as perfect geometric cones a firm and full seven inches until they ended in her delectable golden tips.
“Your nipples,” stuttered one man unsure of himself, “I have never seen nipples that color. They’re so large. And as reddish gold as a pure gold coin.”
“And your breasts,” continued Schneider, “are so firm. They stick out so straight from your body.”
Dolores breathed heavily through parted lips, head still bowed. What next? she wondered. The pretty girl knew she was lovely, her father had always told her so. But for grown men to carry on like this was to her inexperienced mind ridiculous. “Do you wish me to continue?” she inquired at last with uncharacteristic boldness. She was resigned to what was going to happen. She wanted to get it over with.
“Yes, please,” said a young blonde of maybe nineteen, staring at her with openmouthed awe. Of all of them she still had some liking for him. Somehow she sensed a human being buried beneath his stark gray uniform.
Staring down again at her military coat she began to unbutton it. She tried to imagine she was alone with the blonde boy. The idea of stripping herself naked-willingly-in front of him made her feel seductive, alive in her body. She found herself about to enjoy it. But it was sin and she shook off the image.
At last the unbuttoning was done. Mustering her courage she threw the cloak aside and stood naked before them.
Once more there was silence broken only by occasional sighs of admiration. She felt as if her flesh was being worshiped. Their eyes feasted on her short five foot body, with her full flaring hips and waspish thin waist. In spite of her height she was perfectly formed and every inch of her skin was pure unadulterated white. The sun had never seen her body. She looked like a china doll with its virgin colorlessness.
Pointedly the Germans stared at her crotch. Her cunt seemed so demure. They remarked how child-like it was, merely a thin short slit almost invisible, though her bush too was still tiny, sparse and immature. The blackness of her thick curls gave a sensuous contrast to her whiter than snow love mound.
At their request she turned so that they could clearly view her delightful firm round butt. It too was pure white and the crack of her ass receded with Castilian grace between her legs. They admired her long black glossy hair that hung down her back so far it almost concealed the beautiful rump. And in all ways her arms and legs were perfectly shaped.
“Truly beautiful,” muttered one and took a long sip from his wine glass.
“Then we should not keep such beauty waiting,” said Schneider, the most calloused of the four. “What do you propose for our party, Herr Colonel?”
“It seems a shame in anyway to damage such perfection,” spoke the officer solemnly, “but I’m afraid it shall be necessary to teach this young senorita humility in front of the Fuhrer’s soldiers. Schneider, take those cane poles from the corner. Bind her and we shall whip her.”
Dolores’ heart jumped when she heard his cruel words but she obeyed. She had decided not to fight. Schneider placed a heavy pole behind her shoulder blades and bound her arms out-stretched to it so that they stretched helplessly at right angles to her body. She looked as if she were being crucified.
Expertly the tormentor tied two more poles, less rigid than the first to one end of the larger pole. Then he stretched them in front of her, across her chest and tied them both to the other end of the larger pole. The little fifteen year old cried out as he pulled them tight, forcing the supple canes across her breasts so that her lovely mounds jutted painfully out between them. Carefully he narrowed the distance between the two long sticks until the base of her jugs were squeezed tight. The tortured boobs fell forward from the tight vise of poles, bloated and reddened with hot blood. Her golden pale nipples bulged out full, hard and erect from the swollen cones.
Dolores tried to bend forward, to relieve the pain in her chest but found it impossible. She barely kept herself from falling over. With her arms stretched so high and wide it was impossible to keep her balance.
“Oh please,” she whimpered in desperation, the ache filling her chest, suffocating her. “Please. Why do you do this to me? The peasants were wrong in hating my father, revenging themselves on me. But you … you have no reason. Please have mercy.”
“We do not need a reason,” said the jaded colonel. Contemptuously he lit a cigarette and let the smoke deliberately drift into her face. “We Germans have neither love nor hatred for anyone here-peasant, landlord, Republican or even Fascist. We are training for our Fuhrer. What we do here is for our pleasure. The people we kill are for pleasure. We rape women for pleasure. And what we do to you is for no other reason than our pure capricious pleasure.”
She watched in wordless disbelief as the ranking officer picked up a short whip. Ominously he towered over her. Gingerly he tested it in his hand and then lashed out across her small belly. The child cried as she doubled up, stumbled forward and then threw her shoulders back to clumsily regain her balance. A right red streak remained across her tender pure white stomach.
“Please,” whined the little girl, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, “I have always been a good girl. I have never done anyone harm.” She knew begging was futile but she did not know what else to do. All her life she had been virtuous and good. Father, mother, priest and nuns had always praised and rewarded her righteousness.
But then she remembered just last night she had sinned. When the peasants had raped her she had come, come and sinned. “Oh God forgive me,” she moaned. She was carnal now, a slut, a woman of the world.
The whip struck again about her small waist, then up across her chest, a third just under her tortured breasts, once more across her belly and then again and again until shrieking she staggered and stumbled around the tent. From just above her small black pussy bush up to her imprisoned breasts she was covered with long red welts. Trickles of blood began to burst from some of the hardest hits.
Her frail legs would hardly hold her as she twisted and jerked in response to the lashes, trying to escape them. Ludicrously her shoulders rolled forward or back and from side to side as she worked to keep her balance. Incessantly she babbled out her pleas both to God and the Germans to end her torment and grant her mercy.
The colonel stopped and began to laugh uncontrollably, his white teeth shining brightly. Knees bent and slender legs trembling she stared at him openmouthed.
“But, my Freulein,” von Schlecht said finally, still grinning at her. “We have just begun. I have hardly started.” Patronizingly he placed a broad hand on her shaking shoulder.
“Is it not enough,” she sobbed, “that I would let you rape me? Not even rape but … willingly let you know me carnally. Must you beat me, hurt me, degrade me? I have agreed to let you debase my body. That is sin enough. Must you also ruin my soul?”
“It shall not be ruined my dear,” chuckled the German tauntingly, “just educated as the peasants educated your cunt last night.” Looking about his he again raised the whip. The others had found lashes too and all four began to beat her mercilessly.
Screaming in agony Dolores staggered about the room, driven from corner to corner by the angry beating. Her flesh was aflame from the leather strips. Hopelessly she tried to free her hands from the pole so she could defend herself. Yet no matter how freely they struck, the four Germans were careful never to touch her perfect face, her swollen throbbing jugs or her almost invisibly small cunt. These would be for later.
Gasping the child fell on her knees. Bowing her head until it touched the floor she helplessly wailed out a prayer for someone to help her. They stared down at her reddened and bloody body with glee as she shook in fear. Her arms were still spread out grotesquely from her body like eagle’s wings, her lovely cones squeezed hideously between the tight bamboo canes.
For awhile they let her rest. Slowly the tiny brunette regained control, ceased her unheeded sobbing and breathed in long torturous breaths. Outside they heard a volley from the firing squad. Then there was another and in a little while a third. For fifteen minutes they let her kneel panting in front of them. Somehow she resolved that she must survive.
“Child,” said the colonel at last, bending forward and taking her chin in his hand so that she was forced to look up at him. Her large brown eyes and long black lashes were wet from her tears. “Child, do you want to die?” he asked softly.
“No,” she whimpered immediately, spontaneously. “I want to live. I am so young. Please, Senor. Do not kill me.”
“If you prefer we will release you and turn you over to the captain of the Civil Guard.”
“No,” moaned the trembling girl, “he will shoot me.”
“Then Senorita you must do as we wish and without protest. You must willingly subject yourself to our little games. You must at least try not to cry out.”
“I will, Senor Colonel,” she agreed abjectly. Outside there was another volley from the firing squad. A woman in the compound broke into hysterical screams, calling for her murdered husband. “I will do whatever you want if you will let me live,” confirmed Dolores.
“Then you must renounce your God and replace Him with the four of us,” hissed the German officer triumphantly. “If you wish to live.”
“Oh no, I cannot,” wailed the miserable child, bowing her face until her forehead pressed the ground. “I cannot.” Her long black hair fell over her shoulders to the floor, partially veiling her cheeks. But even in the dim light of the tent her persecutors could see the terror on her face.
“You must renounce aloud your God and take us in His place,” repeated the commanding officer. “You must renounce Him before us.”
“Oh my Saviour,” Dolores began to chant under her breath, unaware the others could hear her, “my only God forgive me what I am about to do. I beg that a priest be nearby that he might intercede. Forgive me what I am about to say. But I am so young and have so much life to live. And my family needs me. And oh Lord God I cannot die without a confession. Forgive me my sins. But mostly God I am afraid and I want to live.”
The scared teenager finished, her body tense in expectation. So many times before after prayer she had felt a comforting warmth fill her, letting her know God had heard and loved her. Trembling she waited hoping for that warmth again that would flood throughout her body with vibrant living heat. Prayerfully she waited for this sign of forgiveness. But it did not come. Instead she shivered as an icy gust of wind crept under the tent flap and chilled her.
“Are you ready now, Senorita?” urged the officer softy. “You must do it now. Renounce your God and take us in His stead.”
Inch by inch the child forced her face upward to look at them. Lips trembling she looked from one to another, hoping for some sign of salvation. There was none.
“I … I renounce my God and my Saviour Jesus Christ,” she stuttered in total defeat, “and I take the four of you instead as my true Gods.” Her words were punctuated by a salvo from the firing squad outside.
“Then rise,” responded the colonel, reaching under her arms and helping her stumble to her feet. She stood before them with arms still crucified, her long black hair falling over her shoulders to modestly cover her swollen bruised breasts and the long red welts that laced her body.
Head hung in shame, she watched through tear-blurred eyes as the four soldiers stripped naked. It would be all right, she kept telling herself. She would find a priest as soon as they let her go.
It was Schneider that stood before her this time, his huge prod pointing at her, thick, fat and ugly. Dizzily she focused her eyes on the moist tip, almost hypnotized as she watched it swing lazily back and forth. In his hand he again held a switch.
This time he did not spare her breasts or quim. Deliberately he drove it down across her swollen tits, her thigh and then sharply up between her legs. Dolores screamed in agony, staggering back. The soldier paused until she regained her footing.
“Give thanks for his disciplining you,” ordered the colonel, “thank your new God for the favor he is showing you.”
“Yes,” gasped the child, “I’m sorry. Thank you, Senor Schneider. Thank you my God for beating me.”
“And do you wish him to fuck you Freulein,” urged the officer, “fuck him like your former God fucked the Virgin Mary?”
“Yes,” she sobbed, hating herself. “Do it to me. Do to me what Go’d did to the Virgin.”
“Say it!”
“Fuck me,” she cried out, “fuck me like God fucked the Blessed Virgin.”
Schneider laughed and walked up to her. He reached his hands down to her narrow waist and pulled her firmly to him. She felt his sweaty skin forced against her, pressing her smarting boobs painfully against her chest. Between her legs she felt something moist and hard prodding her.
One hand left her hips and in a moment the strange prod was now massaging slowly up and down the length of her tiny immature gash. Gradually he worked the thin cut open until his mushroom touched pink flesh. Dolores felt it there, intruding in her most private vestibule. But she had asked for it and in her cowardice wanted it more than death.
Under his touch her clit involuntarily began to tingle. Deliberately he was trying to awaken her still virgin desires-and was succeeding. His fingers joined the tip of his cock and she felt him stretch her tight lips even wider. He found the almost invisible clitoris and pinched it rudely.
“Oww. Oh, Oh please,” she moaned, “please.”
“Please what, Senorita?” whispered Schneider maliciously, “please fuck you? Is that what you meant Freulein?”
“Yes,” she murmured in defeat. “Yes, Please fuck me.”
Dolores’ eyes were filled with his yellow teeth and cruel smile. In her secret garden she felt his intrusion as he pressed the cock meaningfully at the miniscule entrance to her temple. He was drawing it out deliberately. Then suddenly there was a fire in her pussy, her whole crotch was alive with the burning.
“Oh,” she grunted, “oh, ohh.” She tried to stagger back but the soldier held her firm. The knob of his fat pecker was piercing through the pencil tight hole, pulling at her tender flesh. Then with a gigantic shove he twisted the tip in.
“It hurts,” she moaned in protest. “It hurts. Please I’m so tight.” He must be a peasant, she thought fleetingly, his tool is so big. They must all be peasants.
Schneider laughed gleefully. Gratified at her discomfort he pushed harder, shoving and twisting until finally his hard mass was buried firmly to his balls inside her. He felt her shaking and trembling under his hands. Only his support held her up.
Dolores was sick to her stomach she was so full of him. Her belly ached from the length of his dork. Her pelvis felt as though it would break in two from the bulk penetrating her tiny crotch.
“How does it feel?” he asked sadistically.
“It hurts,” she sighed piteously. “It hurts, Senor. It is too big for me.”
Pressing himself tight against her flesh, his large body dominating her completely, he began to rotate his ships insistently, churning his dick mercilessly inside her. The screwing of his huge cock into the child filled her with pain and sickness. She could do nothing about it. With every pathetic complaint he ground even harder.
She seemed inhumanly aware of the fat spear inside her, feeling it shove and press against her womb and walls as clearly as if she could see it. Body covered with sweat, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore it. It wouldn’t last forever, she told herself, it was only a physical act. She could stand it.
Then suddenly there was more pain-sharp flaming tearing misery in her side and then her other side. Immediately it was over her ass and down her back. Pulsing rhythmic waves of fire swept over her, shoving her harder against her rapist, driving her twat violently against his prod. It was the other Germans. They had again taken up their whips and were beating her.
“No, no,” please,” she cried out desperately, “please, Senores, don’t beat me. Just fuck me, please just fuck me.”
“We are your Gods, Senorita,” challenged the colonel, “do you know who you are talking to?”
“Oh yes, yes my, Gods. Please, my Gods, I beg you. Don’t beat me any … oh, oh, oh, owwww,” she bellowed as deliberately the four began to flail her harder. They did not miss an inch of her tender flesh as they worked up and down her body.
Begging, cringing, weeping Dolores stood helplessly in the middle of the tent. Still tied to her cross she swayed with each vicious thrust of Schneider, her ass arching backwards as if to escape. And each time it was met with burning leather of the Germans’ whips.
Piteously she shook from the four-sided attack. There could be no escape. Madly Colonel von Schlecht whipped at her naked bottom, glowing with pleasure as he saw the smooth flesh grow apple red under his lash. That tiny perfect bottom twisted and jerked in front of him, tossing out of her control.
Furiously Schneider pumped into her, driving with his full length each giant jab. The child moaned under his force, sweat pouring from her smooth body. Her breasts ached from the tight vise of case, her pussy was in torment from its oversized load. Weak, she leaned against him helplessly, unable to support herself as his unsanted prick churned away inside.
Von Schlecht increased his rhythm, whipping her with an almost frantic tattoo. Sensing it Schneider pumped into her ever harder, making her squeal with each malicious hump. At her sides the other two soldiers also began to beat her as hard and unmercifully as they could.
Schneider let go her waist and began still fucking to walk around the tent. Staggering backwards, trying to support herself on his big body, Dolores struggled to keep her balance.
“Please,” she gasped, almost unable to speak, “please don’t. Just fuck me,” she moaned, “just fuck me.” The little teenager’s head swam. All her energy was devoted to staying on her feet. Her eyes smarted and the whole room looked like a dungeon of Hell illuminated by the red lamp light. Red and black it was. Everything illuminated by the red flame which emanated from her burning body.
Schneider drove his cock ruthlessly forward in a fantastic jab, holding it there painfully against her womb. The child doubled with stomach cramps, her butt jutting out obscenely behind her. Slowly the soldier ground his rigid spear deliberately inside her, feeling her tremble and hearing her miserable groans.
Colonel von Schlecht quickly grabbed and spread her rotating ass cheeks. With a grin he shoved the thick end of the whip deep inside her rectum. The soldiers’ ears immediately rang with the violence of her screams.
Outside the tent there was laughter. Several of the cruel Moorish soldiers had gathered when they had first heard the tiny woman’s cries. Now they looked at each other and grinned. It was torture creditable even to a Moor. These German gentlemen were not such cowardly pusillanimous fellows after all. As the pleas and screeches of Dolores reached them, the respect of these hard veterans of desert warfare grew immeasurably for the four European soldiers inside.
Deftly and relentlessly the senior officer jabbed and screwed the thick leather pole into the girl’s ass-hole. Steadily Schneider humped from the other side holding her helplessly in place. Heedless of her misery they crammed the two poles into her quaking body.
Dolores shrieked pathetically but she was no longer aware of where the pain came from. There was so much of it. She knew only that a huge firebomb had exploded somewhere inside her, that she was filled with the immense flames of Hades. She had forsaken her God and now suffered eternal torment.
But no, she had taken new Gods. Why did they not save her? She pressed herself forward and sensed rather than felt Schneider’s own moist flesh. It felt good having a protector so close by her.
“Save me,” she whispered. “My God, save me. Protect me from the fire.”
“I’ll save you with my cock, Dona Dolores,” he murmured with satisfaction, experiencing her complete surrender. Her body pushed against him in need.
“Yes, with your cock,” she answered dully.
“Can you feel it?”
Dolores paused and concentrated. Vaguely she became aware again of two foreign objects inside her. One was rigid and inhuman, driving unfeelingly into her. The other was warm, alive and moist-needing and enjoying her as it hurt her. It was his prick.
“Yes,” she sighed, “yes. I can feel it.”
“Concentrate on it,” he barked as again he began to move it in and out, slowly and sensuously. The others stopped their beating to watch. Von Schlecht left his whip dangling out of her ass-hole like an aimless tail. The leather swung deliciously from her body as she swayed to Schneider’s rhythm.
Her body and soul were united. With delight she welcomed the fat stinking prod into her consciousness, greeted it happily, kissed it in her mind. Her pussy pushed back now to meet his assaults, almost greedily riding the length of the well oiled dick.
“Yes,” she grunted, still hardly able to breathe. “Yes, it’s working. You’re saving me.” Distantly she imagined a huge enormous and beautiful prod of pink alabaster humping her, pumping life back into her. It was gorgeous as it sank in repeatedly, its huge blue veins standing out strong and proud like a warrior’s. Oh how good it felt. The heat was still there but it was no longer an angry burning. Instead it was warm and moist and comforting.
Dolores envisaged her cunt. In her mind’s eye she saw the tiny gash with its thin painfully white petals stretched to tearing around the wonderful pillar passing deep inside. She saw how lovely her black bush looked as it nestled welcomingly about the invading prod, setting off its gigantic redness. She noticed that little button-that she had never known existed until last night. It trembled excitedly as the pecker grazed and slid across it, feeling its own little ache of pleasure.
Endlessly the prick seemed to jab into her. Dolores imagined what she looked like as it entered her cunt and she found herself beautiful-found her cunt gorgeous. She loved her pussy now and loved herself more because of it. This was what it was to be a woman.
“Oh yes,” she hissed as she felt the huge knob push against her insides, rearranging her red hot organs. Cunt honey was pouring now from her quim and running down his noble peter. “Oh yes, fuck me. Fuck me, my God,” she repeated softly. “Fuck my cunt. I have saved it for my God. Fuck my cunt, fuck it, God.”
Schneider looked into the child’s sweat covered face. Her lips were parted, nose dilated and her chin hung in helpless weakness. The blood had left her pretty cheeks emphasizing the flawlessness of her skin. Her eyelids were opened wide but her eyes themselves rolled back into the sockets. She stared at him with the whites alone, as if she were some horrible ancient mystic. She was his now, in soul, mind and body wholly and totally his.
“May I enter too, Fraulein,” broke in von Schlecht with mock politeness, seeing her abject state.
“Is there room?” she whispered immodestly. “You can fuck me if you want but my twat’s so full of him. He’s so big in me.”
“There is room in your shit hole Dona Dolores.”
“Oh no,” she murmured dizzily, “is that possible? There? That’s not where it goes.”
“Don’t worry yourself, my little girl,” chuckled the older man, “we shall fit it in.”
The tiny brunette felt the hard unpleasant whip handle removed from her body and then immediately there was a new pressure. It was a new human living loving prod like the first gradually struggling up her rectum. Again there was a sharp increase in pain but this time she didn’t mind. The fire was now one of pleasure rather then anguish. Her Gods had changed misery into joy.
Once inside the two Germans began to thrust more vigorously, beating their dorks into her rapidly. They could feel the other’s cock rub against their own as they synchronized their humping, filling the child’s body to bursting. She could hardly breathe, but gratefully she met their pricks with her twat as mercilessly they humped her.
“Oh, oh, my God,” she yelled as the fury increased. “Oh yes fuck me, fuck me.” Dolores’ frail frame was flung back and forth between their strong bodies, wholly under their control. She lurched from side to side, her crucified arms sweeping down and almost touching the ground. And all the time she grunted for more. “Fuck me, yes fuck my shit hole. Fuck me my Gods.”
The teenager tossed, twisted and turned between them. Their hands grasped her slick sides to steady themselves as they fucked rapidly into the small girl’s tiny holes. Their muscles knotted, the veins stood out handsomely as like Greek gods they screwed her madly. Their taut stomachs slapped noisily against her tight small frame.
“Yes fuck me, fuck, fuck me, fuck me,” chanted Dolores anxiously in time to their frenzied rut. “Fuck me, my Gods. Fuck me.”
Suddenly Schneider buried deep inside her. His body was stiff, his face corded from the strain. Between his legs his balls began to pulse.
“No Schneider, not yet,” grunted the colonel, sensing what was about to happen. He wanted them to come together.
“Yes, yes, yes,” protested Dolores, also knowing what had happened. “Fuck me, Schneider. Fuck me, God. Come, come, come, come in meee!”
Desperately the younger soldier held himself back, trying to wait. He breathed heavily through his opened mouth. His eyes bulged with the effort. It was torture.
He tried to distract himself, think of other things. His grandmother with the gray hair and fat thighs bringing him gingerbread. His little sister who liked to show off her little twat. His mother when she pulled his pants down to spank him. The apples on the trees and the harvest of the grapes.
Crazily von Schlecht was driving his prod into Dolores’ shit hole now, trying to catch up. It wouldn’t be long. He could feel his prod growing even greater with excitement.
Dolores loved it. She felt she was spinning about Schneider’s huge stationary pole, spinning like the universe about the sun. And she was being driven by von Schlecht’s gouging, pounding, screwing, jabbing frantic eternal prick. How she loved them.
“Ae yaaa,” cried the colonel at last, letting loose a huge wad of come that ricocheted through the tiny child’s bowels.
“Oh God at last,” gasped Schneider as his fluid poured into her quim like a flood, splashing against the hot red walls and spraying her cave like a fine shower.
“Oh yes, yes, yes,” screamed Dolores in immediate response, her whole body quaking violently as if possessed.
“Yes, yes come in me. Come. Come. Me too. You’re bringing me.
“Oh, oh, oh hooo,” grunted the colonel as violently his peter tore into her anus, flooding her bowels. He wedged the spurting prick into her bunghole until he felt his dangling hairy balls caress her perfect small round white ass cheeks. His best climax in years.
Schneider groaned and gasped as more and more of his jism literally streamed into her. The damn finally broken he feared it would never stop. Pain shot from the base of his nuts as his muscles cramped. It hurt like sex had never hurt before. He was scared but it was the most beautiful fuck he’d ever known.
“Ah, ah aeeee,” screamed Dolores at the top of her voice, full orgasm on her at last. Head tilted back, body rocking from side she wailed out her indescribable joy. Outside even the raucous laughter of the Moors did not cover her cries as they echoed through the camp.
“Fuck meee,” she bellowed, “fuck meee. I’m coooming. Coooming. My Gods fuck me. Fuck meee my Gods. Coooming. Come … oh, oh, oh … again. Oh screw my twat. My Gods I adore you. Screw me harder. Harder I beg you. Fuck me! Yes, oh my Gods.”
The three of them writhed together in the center of the tent rocking in unison. They were like some wild primitive animal of lust. Viciously the soldiers tore and ripped ecstatically at the girl’s white flesh as time after countless time she was swept with new waves of orgasm. The others watched in awe at what they saw. It seemed somehow inhuman, unearthly.
Twisting and stumbling the trio held together, the officers never ceasing to ride the virgin’s ass. Between them she yelled deliriously, urging them on in word and body. Frantically all of them worked together, reinforcing the other’s climax. Come spilled out of her two holes and greased their tangled legs.
The six legged animal twisted and stumbled about the tent, crashing recklessly into cots and supporting poles. Covered with sweat and jism they tossed about the room, crying out their satisfied lust.
It seemed it would never end and did not until at last the two soldiers abruptly collapsed from exhaustion, dragging Dolores down with them. Gasping, with blurred eyes the petite fifteen year old looked about her. She gazed insanely at the two men prone beside her. She raised her eyes to the other two soldiers that were watching.
“I loved it,” she murmured to them. “I loved all of it, all of it, everything, every minute of it. I love you all. I love my Gods. I love my new Gods more than I ever loved my old one.
“Please,” she panted sill looking at the couple that stood before her, “please. Won’t you do it to me, too? Everything. like they did. Please. Won’t you fuck me too?”
THE END OF CHAPTER TWO