Elizabeth Enslaved by Peter Marriner

Elizabeth Enslaved

(Peter Marriner)

Elizabeth Enslaved

Chapter One


Elizabeth Seaton emerged from a dark and hideous nightmare in which she was being carried off, unable to fight or scream, in the jaws of some hideous beast, while flaming brands descended like fiery rain out of the darkness onto her naked body.  With a jerk she came back to life and a reality no less nightmarish.  She was hanging head downwards, enveloped in stiff canvas, across the back of a small donkey whose trotting hooves she could see in the dim light below her. Naked under the canvas, her body ached and smarted with every jolt and shift it made on the donkey’s back.  Her wrists and ankles were bound with rope and her jaws gagged with several more loops of the same, rough and salty-tasting. 

She had come out of the dark sea, swimming desperately through tumbling surf.  She might have foundered still, had it not been for a fortuitous piece of timber to which she had clung until the surf cast her up at last, gasping and nearly naked, upon a sandy shore.  Clad just as she had tumbled out of her bunk on the yacht, she staggered over loose sand among looming dunes, a red spark of firelight beckoning her like a fateful star through the blackness. Cold from the sea, she stumbled towards the promise of warmth.  She had no idea what to expect from the defenders of this hostile shore, but she had nowhere to hide. 

She had lost her loose nightshirt to the sea and the thin knickers, all she now wore, clung to her shapely figure, so that as she emerged into the circle of light, she appeared naked to the dark eyes of the half a dozen crop-headed men in camouflage clothing who were clustered about the fire.  Her ample flesh was goose-pimpled, her pricking nipples dark roundels, the wet knickers clinging to a plump mound that showed dark through the thin material and plastered coldly to round bottom cheeks.  She was soon to be warmed up.  Lurking far from the fighting among the sand hills of the desert shore, these men had been drawn to the margin like jackals in the hope of finding useful flotsam among the surf.  Fallen haplessly into their clutches, Elizabeth was a find beyond their wildest dreams, 

At the last minute she turned to flee but dark bodies mobbed her.  Aroused and bellowing carelessly, they enjoyed her wriggles.  They carried her back and held her before the fire while they questioned her in a throaty-sounding language she didn’t understand.  The heat began to roast her.  She made out only a few words of English. “Spy! You spy! You spy!”  The fire flared up, rosily lighting her near nakedness and suddenly she sensed that the mood had changed.  One threat had evaporated and another took its place.  Twisting desperately in their hands, she tried to explain about her family and the yacht, but they seemed neither to understand nor be interested.

“Beasts… Beasts…” she panted as she was displayed in the firelight, turned this way and that.  Then suddenly she was violently up-ended, head down, hair spilled over the sand, legs in the air.  She could feel the heat of the fire on her belly and the newly exposed underside of her breasts. More laughter erupted, lascivious now as her thighs were splayed wide and a blade ran up through the flimsy material of her knickers.  She shrieked in protest as she felt a man’s fingers tweak her revealed pubic bush.  The voices were argumentative.  Then suddenly, as if a decision had been made, she was dumped onto her back on the warm sand.

She lay limply, weak from her long struggle with the sea and then with their hands.  At least she was not going to be murdered outright.  She lay spread-eagled among them like a pale starfish washed up by the sea, surrounded by mottle patterned trouser-legs and big feet that scuffled in the sand, trying apprehensively to make sense of the deep masculine grunts and guffaws.  A log fell in the fire, sending up a column of sparks and a rush of flame that revealed one man in particular closing in between her out-flung legs, the white line of tumbling surf at his back.  He was tall and lean his shirt, hanging open, revealing a muscular body.  His trouser flies were undone and the red firelight gleamed on the naked head of his penis projecting well beyond the big male fist in which it was fondly cradled.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight.  She drew a panicky breath and a cry burst from her.  She drew her legs up instantly and made to roll aside, but his quick stoop caught her.  Seizing her by the knees, the man forced her wide open and slid onto the sand between them.  Her resistance was feeble compared with his brutal determination.  His big hand clapped hard between her legs, the horny palm cupping her soft mount; thumb splaying the lips of her vagina and then forefinger going deep.

“Ver’ tight daarling! Ver’ good cunt!”  Elizabeth squirmed her hips this way and that in the sand as she was poked and prodded.  She threw her head to and fro, her wet hair in sandy tangles, the tears mingling with the salty taste of the sea on her lips.  Men’s voices bellowed and yelled to and fro across her body in clamorous dispute.  Some were crouched alongside whilst some, who were still standing, restrained her attempts to escape, pinning her limbs casually with their planted feet while the finger between her legs pierced her like a struggling butterfly.  Her eyes flew frantically from one face to another, but realised that they were all lean and cruel and all regarded her as helpless prey.  She realised that she had no possible hope of escape.  She was going to be passed from one to the other, the dispute was merely as to which man would have her first.  She let out a rising cry of protest, but it only excited grunts and jeers in response.  It was a rare thing for these reluctant warriors to have the opportunity to handle a woman and they didn’t intend to pass up this juicy piece of flotsam thrown up for their benefit.

She was rolled over onto her face and made to kneel up, or rather to thrust her rear end up, her cheek still pressed to the cool sand, fingers and toes widely spread apart and seeking a grip in the treacherous sand.

“Ver good ass, daarling!”  She felt hands upon her behind, prising the soft rounds apart.  She tried to straighten upwards but her head was hit hard, a dizzying slap.  She was thrust back into position and again her bottom was spread apart until she felt the warmth of the fire all down her bottom cleft and heating her exposed pubis.

“You get good cock, daarling!”  Elizabeth whimpered and trembled but dare not put up a fight, remembering how she had been nearly roasted over the fire.  She spread her knees in the sand as she was bid and made no more than a groaning protest as a cruel finger tested the vent of her anus.  It thrust in hard, up to the knuckle joint and her muscles reacted just too late to stop the intrusion.  She succeeded in only enhancing the effect, squealing in fear and indignation.  Clamping tight on the wriggling finger she heard derisive male laughter.  In confusion she loosed her grip and the finger sank deep within her, the hard male hand coming flat against her cheeks.  She wept in dismay, unable to find a way to deal with this wholly unaccustomed treatment.  Roughly clad thighs slid beneath her as the owner of the finger used its leverage to lift her rear end upwards.  It was crooked painfully in her rectum so as to keep her rigid and helpless.  Hoist up onto his loins like that, she felt the blunt knob of his penis thrust stiffly up beneath her. The heavy weight of masculine feet trapped her arms; her head and shoulders were pressed into the sand.  The man’s hard muscled body curved to enclose her softer one, his thrusting hips parting her thighs wider.

Elizabeth threw her head up, looking wildly this way and that for any way of escape, opening her mouth to voice a protest that died on her lips as she took in the encircling male legs and thighs, mostly naked now, muscular and wiry.  Rampant male cocks jutted and dangled left and right of her from under loosely hanging shirts.  She closed her eyes tight to shut out the sight and her head sagged in surrender.  Unable to evade what was happening to her, she was forced to face its reality.  She recognised that she was the men’s prize and would be used as they pleased. She must simply endeavour to endure until they were finished with her.

So little as a couple of hours ago she had been asleep in her bunk, in the familiar comfort of her family’s floating home, repaired and restored, seeming safe at last from the chaos and danger of an incomprehensible foreign war, the yacht headed for the peace and freedom of the open sea.  A deceptive peace!  Suddenly she was alone and helpless on a desolate and hostile shore, naked prize to a rabble of desperate, violent and randy men.

Coming from up from beneath her a rearing cock head nudged unmistakeably where her assailant’s finger had just been.  Elizabeth reacted instinctively, trying to wriggle herself away from it and there was a wave of mocking laughter.

“Ahhh! You want, daarling eh!”  With a stab of shame, she recognised that her ineffective motion had looked like an invitation, as if she was opening herself wider to the brute.  Forcing her to remain in that provocatively rearing pose, he prodded at her, nudging his cock between her sex lips and then slipping it out as if unable to decide where to put it in.  She felt the great knotty length of it as it slid along the curved underside of her belly one moment and then reared up the soft furrow of her bottom the next.

It seemed to be the impatient urging of the other men that impelled him to cut the game short.  With sudden haste he got down to serious business, shifting his grip so as to splay her wider across his thighs, spreading her bottom with his thumbs and driving his bulbous cock-head into her slit.  Elizabeth mewled and groaned, her fingers and toes raking at the loose sand as she strove to assimilate the intrusion.  The man rammed in without concern for her reaction, going deep to the hilt.  His fingers gripped her thighs like iron claws, thrusting her deeper into the loose sand until she felt its grit upon her lips.  A little mound of it had been driven up by her chin and, shrouded by the damp tendrils of her own hair, she could see little than those few inches of sand illuminated by flickering firelight.  She struggled to lift her head instead in the hope that she could get at least a breath clear of sand but the feet of the men nearest her shuffled impatiently, kicking up even more of it.  The fire flared up suddenly as some bystander roused its embers to give more light.  She was conscious of being watched from all directions by avid male eyes.

The man behind her, hard up within, paused briefly and then withdrew.  Elizabeth gasped for breath in the brief respite.  A series of quick short thrusts followed, accompanied by appreciative grunts when Elizabeth was forced to react with renewed vigour, squirming desperately to keep clear of the sand in front, with her feet kicking up little spurts of it behind the man’s back.  He kept this speed up for a few more strokes before he settled down again, fucking her solidly and steadily, grunting rhythmically all the while.

Elizabeth told herself frantically that this must surely be a nightmare she would presently wake up from.  But the gritty sand under her body was real, the trickling sweat and the fire scorching her flank were real, the shuffling men about her were real.  The cock thrusting within her was all too undeniably real.  She tried to ease her position only to find that her wriggles excited her abuser all the more.  He jerked out harsh words through gritted teeth and was echoed or answered by other voices.  Elizabeth felt as if she had become a mere appendage to his cock, a sex doll with no will of her own.  Her hips and thighs flopped and jerked upon his, penetrated by the wild thrusts. She found herself uttering little gasping cries at the effect, clawing and kicking at the sand with legs and arms outstretched.

The brute behind her bellowed deeply and immediately she felt the effect of his release spurt within her.  She wailed in response, her limbs threshing ineffectively as he collapsed on top of her, wallowing heavily and crushing her flat on the sand. She felt only relief that it was over, feeling him shrink, his lust discharged.  But when he vacated her at last, it was only to give way to others.

The men crowded round her, bellowing and snarling, at once lewd and savage. They were all disputing for turns over the buxom female figure sprawled naked at their feet, glimmering white in the moonlight but rosily flushed wherever the firelight touched its curves.  Looking large-eyed from one disputant to another, Elizabeth quivered with confused reactions to their desire.  Wild thoughts revolved around the inescapable reality of her position.  She was stranded like flotsam on the shore, naked and helpless, a sought-after prize, with a crowd of brutal men competing for possession of her.

Alarm and shame drew her to begin a defensive curl before the reaching male hands but they would have none of it.  She was made to kneel up again and present herself openly once more, knees apart, wide spread, so the men could better appreciate all that they had taken possession of.  She told herself that there was no point in protest or resistance.  She was alone and beyond rescue in a world collapsed into savagery.  She posed submissively at their feet, all that she had to offer on display, as if the only way to preserve her life was to emphasise what was of value to them.

Five or perhaps six took her then, one after another, each invading the same gummy orifice that his comrades had pumped full before him.  It became an almost mechanical process for Elizabeth, hard hands gripping and kneading her flanks, stiff male cock probing then penetrating, pounding her hard, discharging wetly and quickly abandoning her.  Though well lubricated, she felt every inch of the cocks as they reamed her, co-operating in their reception as she felt she must.  She squirmed slowly forward in the sand, pushing up loose grains in a ridge before her chin and shoulders, her scrabbling fingers creating long grooves. 

What seemed - eventually - to be the last of her captors duly came to his surging conclusion and moved away from her. They began arguing again, all in a group about the fire, violently gesturing at one another.  Sprawling limply where she had been abandoned, Elizabeth saw with terror that several of them had knives or bayonets out.  One of the disputants emerged from the group.  He came over to her again, stooped and lifted her by a fistful of hair, yanking her painfully onto her knees before him on the trampled sand. 

She was sure that she was to have her throat cut, but he gestured downwards.    The man was stripped to his undervest and from a black bush in his naked loins his penis hung thick before her face, still half erected though a bead of white on the tip showed clearly that he had used her once already.  His words, harsh and throaty sounding, made no sense at first, but his gestures made clear what she was expected to do and then she recognised that his words were English of a sort.

“Make good fuck!  Not kill for spy!  Keep live!”

She looked at the shadowy figures of the other soldiers, settling back by the fire.  Fiercely red-lit faces turned to regard her expectantly across the flames.  She understood.  She would have to please her captors in new ways now, merely for her own preservation. Cheeks aflame, she reached up and took the great root in a cautious grip, right hand curling at its hairy base, the fingertips of the other running up and down the column, feeling it lift and stiffen.  She clung to it, on her knees before it, as if in obeisance to its burgeoning vitality.  Above her the man grunted in complacent approval, gripping her by the shoulders.  Suddenly she had a hope that her manipulation might suffice, abandoning reserve in an attempt to carry him away completely.

Before she could achieve as much, she was thrust from him with an oath and roughly turned away, back onto all fours on the sand.  A bare foot kicked her into position with thighs spread wide and a horny big toe hooked into her wet and stinging sex from behind, lifting her rear high up.  Knowing she had no choice, Elizabeth bit her lip and did her best to present herself the way he seemed to require.  Hands slapped her bare flanks, setting her up as the target.  His cock head, now the precursor of a stiffened stem, nudged in and rammed hard.  Elizabeth groaned and whimpered.  Once more she was face down in the trampled sand, splayed apart, being thrust to and fro, sliding over hard male thighs as a solid male shaft did the thrusting.

Suddenly she changed the whimper into something she hoped would convey an impression of acquiescence, remembering that this time she was expected to show willing.  She was very wet and he slid easily into her, taking his time as if enjoying her efforts.  With some dismay she found that trying to please the brute was having an effect upon her own body, but she was beyond making fine adjustments to the nature of her response.  She gasped and panted desperately, sand tangled hair over her face concealing her expression, doing her best to speed him into orgasm before she lost control herself.  At last the brute spurted into her for his second time, groaning and grunting in delight. Allowed to sag into shuddering immobility on the sand, she felt an absurd sense of gratitude for such virile speed.

But the remission did not last and in a matter of minutes another man had taken his place.  Elizabeth reluctantly struggled up again as he slid to his knees in the sand behind her.  No doubt this one would expect as much of her as his precursor!  As he entered her, she gasped and then squealed in protest.  The thrust this time was to her anus, not the entry she had been expecting!  His big hands held her firmly though, despite her panicky wriggles, strong thumbs splaying her bottom cheeks apart.  She thrust hillocks of sand back behind her with scrabbling toes and spreading knees, fingers reaching similarly in vain, for a grip in sifting sand.  The intrusion within her rectum felt like a column of fire, surging back and forth, its knobbed head seeming as big as a boulder.  She felt the flesh of her distorted anus clung to the solid intrusion and trying to follow it in and out with rubbery adhesion. 

Remembering that her reaction to this abuse might be a matter of life and death, Elizabeth desperately tried to pull herself together.  She endeavoured to ignore her own pain and to smooth her reactions to coincide with his ramming shaft.  She tried to make her squeals sound like a compliment to his size.  She felt herself hoist bodily by the hips, backside in the air, toes just grazing the sand and thereafter was helpless to affect events.  Flopping loosely, she was pulled onto his shaft like a tight boot and then thrust off again.  Verbal contribution finally failed her too.  She tried to keep up the pretence but she was too hoarse even to squeal.

In a panic, her mind centred upon the progress of her abuser’s deepening lunges, desperately assessing every nuance of his grunting and thrusting.  Feeling her whole rear to be one huge ruined red-hot hole, she could do nothing to shorten her ordeal and was forced to long instead for his speedy gratification.

Suddenly it was there, bursting wetly in her bowels, greeted by the pair of them simultaneously, one bellowing in triumph, the other wailing her relief.  As he pulled back out of her, Elizabeth sagged in his hands as limp as a deflated doll.  She was dumped face down on the damp sand, legs apart, gasping and groaning while the man brushed himself off, his throaty exclamations evidently expressive of satisfaction and walked away to join the group by the fire. When at last she raised her head, she saw with numb despair that they were arguing once more. 


The five deserters and the man who had been their corporal were natives of the nearby town.  Without money for bribes they hadn’t dare to return to their homes for fear of the security checks.  They had been lurking among the dunes and ranging along the shore after dark, seeking wreck and flotsam that might be of value.  This night had delivered an unexpected prize that excited ideas as to possible profit.  Already the fire burned more palely in the first flush of dawn and quick decisions were in order.  Two of the men had been so excited watching the others as to ejaculate before their turn came and were now anxious to keep possession of Elizabeth for future use.  The eldest of the deserters, a grey haired man who had taken his turn with the others, now objected to meddling further with her.  She was a spy he insisted and they could all be shot for concealing her.  The others discounted his argument.  He was known to prefer boys to women and anyway they were all just as liable to be shot for desertion.

 While they furiously debated her fate, their plundered prize sprawled exhausted and terrified at their feet, where they turned her over once or twice to survey her generous curves in the growing light.  Yet had she known it, her efforts had not been wholly in vain, for the argument now was not about how best to dispose of the suspected spy but how to make better use of her.  Elizabeth’s blondeness, nakedness and apparent inability to make herself understood might have made her seem an unlikely spy but it rendered her temptingly vulnerable to exploitation.  She was a mature woman very much to the local taste.  Her breasts were heavy enough to stand in full round curves on her rib cage, the dark nipples standing out like bullets.  Her legs, half drawn up, fell apart as she was rolled over to reveal a full bush of ginger-ish pubic hair above the damp red gash of her sex, now dusted with a coating of sand grains.  How to make use of it?

A few miles along the coast on a shallow and sandy creek lay the town to which they aimed to return.  Since the war began it had been the centre of a multitude of tented camps, widely spread and camouflaged in the surrounding rocky desert. Collectively they made up a major supply base and a source of recreation. To the corporal and his gang, low-grade conscripts from the local militia, it was both an attraction and a threat.  As soldiers they had been poorly paid, when paid at all, and could seldom even afford the services of the cheapest whores.  How could they conceal such a prize as this?  How continue to enjoy her?  How to keep her secure?

Lust and greed overcame their caution when they heard the corporal’s solution. He had moved away from the town to seek his fortune in the capital, but before he was conscripted he had been employed as a door-keeper in an expensive brothel.  Its enterprising Madame had attracted a clientele so powerfully connected and so deviantly inclined as to encourage her to provide attractions for them of a blatantly illegal kind.  The rise to power of puritanical Fundamentalism had increased her business, but made her position in the capital too precarious.  In the first victorious phase of the war she had followed in the train of the army, setting up behind the front where brothels were tolerated and less attention paid to the nature of their attractions.

She had achieved protection and influence, the corporal said, by serving high-ranking men whose tastes ran counter to the current law.  He extolled her acumen to his comrades.  She had an eye for rarities in her stock in trade.  While he had served her she purchased many foreign girls of different types and trained them to provide erotic specialties.  Even in peacetime she had been able to employ such hapless cock-fodder without questions being asked.  Now free of foreign complications and out of reach of timid civil authorities, her protectors would be all the more powerful.  Where better could the men turn to use their find to best advantage than a brothel madam who had specialized in the breaking in of reluctant girls?  If anyone knew how to employ the prize it would be Madame Zurra!