Chapter One
Jacqueline Raven crouched upon the
cool tiled floor in the lounge of her temporary home, illuminated within the
circle of light cast by an oil lamp. She was in a bungalow situated in the
compound of the US Regional Coordination Centre outside the town of Maung Lo in
the far north of Thailand. At the
circumference the oil lamp lit the flat, hard faces of the ring of armed men
who surrounded her and she trembled with dreadful apprehension as they fell
back to make way for a man whose coarsely handsome features she
recognised. General Bha Duong, once her
would-be seducer, was now evidently her captor.
In
the distance she could still hear the intermittent rattle of small arms fire
and an occasional louder detonation, from where she guessed the main buildings
must still be under attack and where her husband, Roger, must now be
trapped.
The
attackers had broken into the defended perimeter near the staff quarters by
blowing a gap in the electrified fence under cover of darkness. The explosion
had woken Jacqueline and Rachel who, with her own husband, shared the bungalow
with the Ravens. The two women had run
out into the tropical darkness, only to be caught in the rush of men who
charged, yelling like demons, among the bungalows, firing into the flimsy
wooden buildings and hurling grenades through doors and windows.
She
had no idea what had become of Rachel in the wild confusion outside. She herself had been seized by a small group
and hustled back inside the unscathed bungalow. They seemed to know what they
were about, lighting her face with a small lamp once they were under cover, as
if to check her identity. It was made
brutally clear that they were her captors, not her rescuers. She had tried to get away from them, but they
threw her face down on the floor, tying her wrists behind her with her own
dressing gown sash and when in panic she began to scream for help, promptly
gagged her, quickly and effectively, with a couple of turns of a stiff military
belt between her jaws.
They
had waited then, Jacqueline at their feet like a parcel awaiting collection,
men coming and going. She hadn't
anticipated who the collector was to be.
She decided that the US style uniforms of the attackers must signify an
event long feared by the officers of the Centre, that the soldiers of the local
government garrison had changed sides.
The panicky uncertainty about the future of the world order had
exacerbated purely local politics. Every new report of imminent global
disruption spawned a new attempt to take advantage of disorder or jockey for
position in some hoped-for new order.
Jacqueline supposed that her captors intended her to be spared for some
purpose, as a hostage perhaps. She hoped desperately that the Centre staff and
the guards would be able to beat off the attack and come eventually to her
rescue. There seemed little prospect of
any coming from closer at hand, for comparative silence seemed to have
descended in the immediate vicinity. The
members of staff who had not been on duty like her husband, must have been
either shot or taken prisoner too.
Then General Bha Duong had come to collect and
Jacqueline's captivity suddenly made sense and took on a new menace.
The General, his rank was not in any recognised army, was
a frequent visitor to the Centre. His
origins were mysterious, but he had seen service in counter insurgency work in
several Asian countries. He was
currently operating as the leader of a guerrilla band high up in the mountains
where China, Laos and Burma all impinged upon Thailand in a sort of
'no-man's-land'. He worked closely with
the Americans, supporting local separatist groups and passing agents and
supplies over the trackless mountains to Chinese rebels, with information
coming in the opposite direction.
As Jacqueline herself had good reason to know, the
General had strong backing amongst some of the senior American officers. One of them had declared the General's
reports to be "the product of the coolest brain in South East Asia" and others
spoke admiringly of his ability to arouse devotion from, and instil discipline
into his mountain bandits.
When
Jacqueline, an English girl married to an American Reserve officer, had first
arrived at the mission in the early days of the world crisis, she had found
General Bha Duong to be a figure of considerable interest to the small group of
Mission wives and female staff. He was a
man of some sophistication, who knew Paris and Washington as well as the cities
of the East. Although now in his mid-fifties
and showing the effects of dissipation, he still had considerable masculine
presence and a suave charm, which he liked to exercise upon the women. There were in fact, intriguingly vague but
persistent rumours that he held some secret power over them when he cared to
exert it. He was supposed to have made
numerous conquests amongst Mission and diplomatic wives, both in Maung Lo and
in the capital.
Although
there were arguments over the details, it seemed at least well established,
that a secretary in the embassy, who had been his mistress, was so altered by
the experience that she had to be sent home for psychiatric treatment; that she
had given the slip to the officer escorting her to the airport and had never
been seen again. Though the General
denied any knowledge of her, the gossip among the women maintained that she had
been spirited away into the mountains where his secret base was established. For her part Jacqueline thought the American
women too naive, prone to ascribe the General's amatory success to mystical
oriental love techniques. She herself
was inclined to suspect that the mystery was part of the attraction and the
girl's disappearance to have something to do with drugs, given that the
mountains were also a known source of opium.
Roger had revealed to Jacqueline his growing suspicion that the General
had built up his own sources of opium and was using his contact with the Centre
to remove the competition.
Jacqueline
found the General's supposed skill did not work upon her, but undeterred by her
coolness he had persisted in his attentions.
Jacqueline had obtained employment as a civilian cipher clerk in the
Centre and had been taught to regard security with due solemnity.
Suspecting
some hidden motive in the General's persistence, she had confided in her
husband and, at his suggestion, allowed Bha Duong to think his approaches might
be rewarded, in the hope that he would reveal his true aim. Roger and she were total novices at this sort
of thing, but they were fortunate, or else the General's habitual success had
made him careless, for Jacqueline detected him one evening at a cocktail party,
in the act of spiking her drink. Roger and
she reported the incident at once to their superiors, but to their annoyance
the Ravens seemed to be regarded as a nuisance, so highly was the General's
ability regarded in some quarters.
"Dammit!"
one officer had protested. "It's like we had an American up there!" There was a clear feeling that Bha Duong had
merely been trying to slip Jacqueline some kind of love potion, and that a
threat to her virtue was something that might well be winked at. Since Bha Duong had discreetly removed
himself back to his mountains, the matter went unresolved, the contents of the
drink disposed of unanalysed and Jacqueline at least left unmolested. For the time being anyway.
Now
the man had returned, apparently to claim her.
She felt there could be little doubt now why the raiders had selected
her so particularly. They were clearly
acting on his command. The General
intended to have his revenge upon her for the attempted entrapment. She looked up at his face, heavily shadowed
by the lamplight, resembling the deeply carven image of a Chinese demon,
looking down upon her with cruel amusement.
It was she who was trapped now.
She didn't suppose she had any hope of a quick rescue either, for she
remembered only too clearly the sight of her confused neighbours being shot
down as they rushed from their homes.
Turning
his head, the General spoke to his men without betraying any emotion that
Jacqueline could recognise, but two of them immediately bent over her and
abruptly whipped up her clothing; dressing gown and nightdress together over
her head and shoulders. They held her
steady despite her threshing, with her upper-half enveloped in the skirts but
left nakedly exposed from the waist down.
"Let's
see what the long nosed bitch will offer us with this in her!" The General spoke in English this time. A hard hand smacked Jacqueline smartly upon
one vulnerable bottom cheek; her squeal of fright and indignation muffled
beneath the enveloping folds.
"Strip
her completely!" she heard him say coolly.
Flustered
but helpless, she was unable to prevent the tangle of garments being swiftly
stripped from her, slashed ruthlessly with vicious looking knives until it left
her still kneeling, stark naked and dishevelled at her captor's feet. Face burning, she looked up to see Bha Duong
holding a hypodermic needle to the light and was suddenly conscious that where
the hand-imparted sting was fading from her bottom cheek, a sharp tingle had
made itself felt instead. Jacqueline
tried to wail a protest, but only incoherencies emerged from beneath her
gag. Clearly some drug had been injected
into her.
Was
this the sort of thing Bha Duong had intended to give her in her drink? What would it do to her? Was it intended to facilitate her
kidnap? Surely there were enough of them
to carry her off without such aid. She
squirmed a little in the men's grasp and they laughed as if in pleasurable
anticipation. Was she to be gang raped?
Pleasure,
too, had enlivened the General's face, suddenly close to her as a man held up
the lamp between the two of them and the two men thrust her forward for his
appraisal. His hand shot out to cup and
enclose her breast, supporting its weight on his fingers, thumb expertly
flicking the proud nipple. The other men
laughed coarsely at something he said.
He translated it for Jacqueline.
"Big
tits go with big noses!" He bounced both
breasts casually, grinning as Jacqueline gasped and reddened. She felt the nipples had somehow become
tender and sensitive, making her catch her breath and giving her sharp relief
when he allowed them to spill heavily back against her rib cage.
"Hairy
creatures too!" the experimenter remarked generally. "My wife has a theory that they are
barbarians of a lower species, much closer to the apes than us!" He stooped and reached downwards. His fingers might have tested there too but
Jacqueline, sensing where his interest had shifted, reacted instinctively and
he had to straighten smartly to evade her despairing kick. Any triumph she might have felt was short
lived when she saw the expression on his face.
"Still
frozen? Shall we warm you up a quicker way?"
She saw he was unbuckling his belt and felt a sudden thrill of horrified
anticipation. "You are going to make
your mind up to be very obedient, aren't you, Jacqueline?"
Jacqueline
felt that she was helpless among all these men; she was certain that she could
be made to do whatever they wished. The
heavy leather belt slapped with a mighty meaty-sounding smack into Bha Duong's
palm. Somehow the prospect of being
punished if she didn't obey made the idea of her helplessness strangely
exciting. She cried out in confusion as
she was picked up and whirled about amid groping, grasping hands and then found
that her position had been swiftly reversed.
She was bent over, bottom out-thrust, head downwards, with Bha Duong and
his menacing belt behind her, out of sight but not out of mind. He spat out another order and Jacqueline
found her ankles gripped and held, her legs drawn apart and held open so that
the General was free to probe as and where he wished.
She
trembled in anticipation, conscious that she was the centre of attention among
all these leering men. Her hair had become sweat-plastered to her cheeks and
neck and she found herself very short of breath. A large male hand squeezed her bottom cheek
and slid between her legs. She steeled
herself to take it without resistance.
Her mind revolved around what was to come and how helpless she was in
the hands of all these men. Beaten if
she didn't submit. Her mind dwelt upon
the sight and sound of the harsh leather of the belt, imagining how it would
feel when brutally applied to her own softer flesh.
The
thought of it made her skin tingle in anticipation. She wriggled expressively, the plaintive
squealing sounds that emerged from her evoking coarse laughter from her captors.
Such was her condition of helplessness that she felt no shame in making her
submission clear.
"You
react quickly, Jacqueline," the General said, sounding amused and intrigued.
"You three see how fast she progresses.
Warm her up a little more!" At
his word the lamp swung to illuminate the cushioned seat that filled the front
window space and where three of the brutes, grizzled hard faced veterans, were
settling themselves in a row, side by side.
The red light beyond the window flickered eerily behind them as if they
were a row of devils.
"They
will give you a little help!" The men
grinned delightedly, showing mouthfuls of gold teeth as Jacqueline was
propelled towards them.
She
had no clear idea of what she was supposed to do, but she was caught and drawn
down across their laps by several hands, face upwards, hardly daring to
resist. With quaking flesh she felt the
masculine firmness of their thighs, the rough fabric of their uniforms brushing
her nakedness. Strong male hands
restrained her confused struggles. Black
eyes glinting like hard wet pebbles in deeply shadowed cavities gloated over
her; thin lips in hairless mouths pursed and chuckled in evil anticipation.
Not
knowing what was coming nearly made her scream for something to be done merely to
end her tension, before the three pairs of hands gradually turned from
restraint to teasing, and from teasing to caressing. Ruthlessly insistent, they set to work upon
her trembling flesh, playing with expert lascivious skill upon the young
Englishwoman's drug-enhanced vulnerability.
She
was forced to react, Jacqueline told herself.
She chewed upon her gag, wriggling and twisting upon their laps in her
efforts to contain herself but only adding the rasp and brush of her body on
their thighs to the total of sensations.
Hands undid the gag and she cried aloud, ashamed of her easy
capitulation but unable to deny it, for three shaven heads were now bent over
her, the soft wet warmth of three mouths, three supple diving tongues,
complementing the lascivious fingers.
Not even fear could keep her frozen.
She had expected brutal rape, perhaps to be given to the General's men
in contempt, but this vile sort of assault was more humiliating than either,
for it was making her a collaborator. To
her horror, she was unable to withstand it. Every inch of her naked body was
being kissed, petted, stroked and caressed.
The
fingers and tongues found zones of sensation she had never known existed,
feelings she had never recognized. She
was being forced to react and even to respond.
She was in the clutches of experts.
At some time her wrists had been freed but her captors brushed aside her
feeble attempts at intervention and her efforts subsided into mere spasmodic
clutching at arms or hands or ears.
Under the unrelenting pressure of lust, Jacqueline's mind seemed to have
divided into two.
Deep
down one part registered horror and revulsion at what was being done to
her. The rest of her brain seemed
inextricably involved with the sensations aroused in her body, concentrated
upon the results, reacting to them with excitement. Confusion overwhelmed her. She had forgotten the pinprick of the
hypodermic, and was bewildered by her own wild responses. The changing nature of her reactions was not
lost upon her tormentors either.
Slowly
but inevitably the lewd persistence was having visible effect, for despite
Jacqueline's erratic efforts to resume control, her body began to accept what
her mind wanted to refuse. Her breath
came in distinct gasps, her breasts heaving.
Her body writhed almost languorously across the male thighs, legs spread
wide, toes curled; her fingers clung to, rather than clawed, at her
possessors. Tear-filled eyes she shut
tight, unwilling to see what she wanted to deny, but by that act weakening all
the more her will to resist. The
General, who had been casually pacing back and forth beyond the arc of the
light, signalled delighted encouragement and the three expert voluptuaries
redoubled their efforts.
Slow
fire seemed to have invaded Jacqueline's belly, a throbbing glow that spread
and intensified until it seemed to need only some spark to burst into consuming
fire. Desire for that outburst now
pervaded her mind, overwhelming all scruples.
Each new caress she hoped would provide that crowning touch. But nothing came to relieve her. She spread herself, arching across the men's
laps like a victim on the rack with no more compulsion than the unremitting
fondling gave. That portion of her mind
which was still appalled by her reactions was by now incapable of restraining
her or even holding back her tremulous cries.
Suddenly hands, fingers, tongues, all left her.
Jacqueline's
eyes flew open. She was left
gasping. Somewhere deep down she knew
that she should be glad to be free, but she felt so empty, aching and deprived,
that she cried out in protest, clinging to the hard male thighs which were all
that remained to feed her excitement.
Then she lost even that. She was
decanted rudely from off the men's laps onto the floor.
General
Bha Duong swam into view as if in answer to her wails. Hands thrust her in that direction.
"Go!
General, finish what you want!" The
pressure of her desire allowed Jacqueline no time for reflection. With little mewling cries she gathered her
shaky limbs beneath her, and crawled towards the shadowy male figure, back
arched like an animal in pain, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of
water. She needed him. He was hard and strong. She needed what a man could give! She blundered against his legs and clutched
blindly. This man, any man!
The
thick fingers of the renegade grabbed her by the hair, lifting her tear-wet
face level with his crotch. She saw and
identified what she needed with a desperate groan. She settled on her knees quivering with the
intensity of her emotions as a naked penis, half stiffened, thick as a club,
dangled before her eyes.
"You
must work for what you want!" Bha Duong
chided inexorably. "Get it up!" Terror
and arousal alike had combined to prepare the young woman for this cue. With hardly a moment's hesitation, consumed
by her need, impelled to propitiate and to coax, she put her soft mouth to his
half erected organ, encircled the rearing fleshy knob with her lips and began
assiduously to tongue and suck him. The
General hissed in triumph, his eyes slitted, enjoying this succulent form of
revenge as he looked down upon his hapless captive, who had been reduced to the
abject necessity of arousing him solely in order to effect her own rape.
Beyond
the windows there now showed a vivid glare.
In the distance the main buildings were evidently ablaze, their light
creating weird leaping reflections on the walls of the lounge and playing
tricks with the strained postures of the man and woman in the centre of the
floor.
"I
congratulate you!" Gripping Jacqueline
tightly, the General gasped in elation, looking over her head at the row of
three grinning men and then to those others who formed a lewdly admiring
audience. "An excellent
cock-sucker!" It was only with an effort
that he dragged Jacqueline off him, leaving her panting and mewling in anxious
propitiation. "Nearly as good as a
professional!" he assured his clinging victim.
His penis was in massive erection, glistening with her saliva from hairy
root to purple tip.
"You
shall have this now to put where you really want it!" He turned and, drawing Jacqueline with him,
cast himself full length on the black leather couch that the Ravens used for a
spare bed. "Come! Ride me! Good and hard
eh!" He gestured to where his rampant
cock rose stiffly from his loins and Jacqueline responded as if
mesmerised. It stood like a knotted
column. Her blue eyes were fixed
glassily upon its rearing length, the lips that had created that tumescence
still parted, her chin glistening with the same saliva. Her slim figure turned red gold by the
distant fire light, she scrambled up on top of his prostrate form, responding
more to the brutal lure of his erection than in obedience to his words. She straddled the man's lap on all fours,
shapely thighs splayed wide, soft belly hollowed so that her dark pubic tuft
bulged as a furry pad between arching tendons.
Teeth clenched upon her lower lip, she manoeuvred hastily, whimpering a
little with the effort of keeping her desire in check. The General grinned at her eagerness. His great cock bounced like a live thing as
she reached a hand to grasp it beneath her belly.
With
distracted expression and sobbing breath Jacqueline lowered herself
determinedly upon him, slim hand wedding-ringed, guiding the alien cock home
between her straining thighs. Squealing
a little, she got its fat knob firmly lodged with a little jiggle of her hips.
Shuddering, she let herself go, allowing her own weight to sink her slowly inch
by inch onto its shaft, lubricated for her by her own saliva. She took its full length into herself until
she sank with a gasp of triumph, belly to belly, squatting on the General's
thighs, head tossed, body arched, firmly impaled.
Only
for a few seconds did she find relief in being so solidly occupied. A brief squeal of ecstatic satisfaction died
into a groan as the returning urgency of mind and body forced her on and
impelled her into motion. Like a girl on
a pony, rising and falling in the saddle, she obeyed the General's original
exhortation and began to ride her solid impalement, wailing and gasping,
surging up and down, bolt upright, teeth gritted, hair flying and breasts
bouncing.
The
General's followers were avid spectators of the show. Jacqueline was aware of them drawing closer
but endeavoured to shut her mind to extraneous matters, losing herself in her
own physical world. Beneath her surging
body their commander lay as still as if lying in state, an iron will forcing
Jacqueline to provide all the action, making herself a spectacle for their
entertainment. In her frantic desire for
sexual release she only worked harder, plunging up and down the long intrusion
as if working a pump shaft, twisting and writhing her hips like a belly dancer
in the effort to get ever more sensation.
"Ride
it! Isn't this what you wanted?" His
voice goaded her, acting upon her confused mind like a whip to a mare, inciting
her to wilder efforts. Her hair was
plastered to her neck and cheeks and she was panting hard, breasts
heaving. The General himself, showed signs
of the effect she was having. His
red-lit face distorted, with teeth showing, looked more devilish than ever
"Just a bitch on heat!" he jeered and Jacqueline squealed without restraint as
hard hands slapped and bounced her swinging breasts. Somehow, punishment seemed appropriate and
served to distract her mind from the ever-deepening ache in her belly.
"Yes
... Yes ... I ..." She groaned, hardly knowing what it was she was assenting to,
acknowledging her shame at being the centre of attention for all these leering
men, but finding that the shame only heightened the excitement. Her cries grew ever more frenzied and soon
even the thought of being forced and punished became part of the stimulus which
fuelled her lust. "I can't ... help it ...
can't stop ... it ... Have to ... do ...it!"
How long she spent thus frantically impaled,
she never could have told; enough that she was convinced that only in this way
could she obtain the relief she needed.
Excited almost beyond endurance, she rode her impalement as if her life
depended upon it, uttering broken cries of lustful desire, becoming oblivious
of all about her.