Escape From Buggery Ch. 10

Sharon eventually got to sleep after tossing and turning in the dark fetid heat, crammed between Sweetness’ and Tracey’s own hot bodies, and long after the moaning and gasping ceased from the mattress where Buttercup was sleeping with Joy. When she awoke it was on a lumpy mattress sodden with sweat and the strange sensations of a slobbery tactile probing in her vagina. As she blinked in the dark, her legs were wide open and she was enjoying the sensation despite herself. What was the feeling? It wasn’t a prick. Not unless it was a peculiarly small and versatile one. And it wasn’t fingers - the feeling was quite unlike that. As the sensation spread up her labia to her stomach, she established that it must be a tongue. No man had ever sucked her there before, and it was a pleasure she felt peculiar about enjoying. But who was it? There was no light at all in the dark store-room; no silhouetted figures, nothing but a frightening absence of sight.

“Tracey. Is that you?” Sharon wondered, thinking that her friend had perhaps mistaken her for Buttercup.

“You what?” answered Tracey in a sleepy voice. “What you want?”

“Are you fucking licking me?”

“What the fuck do you think? I’m your mate, not your fucking whatsit.”

Sharon leaned up and groped at the head of whoever’s head it was between her legs, secretly hoping that it was Buttercup (though why she wasn’t sure).

“Ooh! That hurt! That’s my eye!” shrieked Sweetness.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Don’t fucking ask! Just get the fuck off me!” Sharon yelled into the dark.

A match was struck, and a candle lit. Joy stood up in front of them, with a strange leer. “Don’t you like my darling Sweetness?” She asked with amusement.

“I’m no fucking dyke!”

“In this world, you get what you fucking get and you’ve got no fucking choice!” Joy said. “However, it’s time me and Sweetness went to work.”

Buttercup was still asleep on the mattress, but Joy rudely shook her awake. “Come on, my darling. We need to get some daylight!” After some very minor preparation, Joy led the way up the store-room rungs to the world outside. Actually, it was Sweetness who really led the way, bounding up the rungs, knowing exactly where to place her bare feet. She pushed up the hatch, Joy extinguished the candle she was carrying, and the girls were exposed to the harsh bright light of the morning sun through the slats of the bombed roof.

In the light, Sharon was at last able to see Sweetness more clearly. She was very thin, her ribs showing clearly through the stretched skin of her chest, and her pointed nipples prominent on otherwise uncontoured breasts. Her dark brown hair was matted and fell over her sharp angular shoulders, and unlike almost everyone else they had met she had no stud in her cunt. Her eyes had a haunting vacancy about them, the pupils and cornea spooky and undefined, and she never faced whoever it was she was speaking to or whoever it was speaking to her. She had prominent pinched cheeks and clearly defined cheek-bones, which gave a strangely puckered look to her mouth.

It was Sweetness who rushed ahead, clearly familiar with every bend and contour of the corridors in the ruined factory, with Joy and the three girls following. On the way, they passed other figures in the half-dark who looked up at them without much curiosity as they went by. They seemed to be preoccupied in other business which was mysterious and unidentifiable to Sharon and Tracey, but presumably had some purpose.

“What does everyone do here?” Tracey asked Joy as she dashed onward.

“Fuck knows! Stitching clothes. Grinding wheat. Rolling tobacco. How the fuck should I know? You do what you fucking can out here!”

“And what does Sweetness do?” Sharon found herself wondering, the sensation of liquid tongue still a vivid memory between her legs.

“She fucks,” snorted Joy. “Or more precisely she gets fucked. We’ve got a stall, and when I’m not out scavenging in the woods, she takes whoever wants to take her.”

“So she’s a prostitute, then?”

“I haven’t the smallest fucking idea what that is. Whatever you want to call it, it’s all Sweetness can fucking do. But she’s fucking good at it. Aren’t you, Sweetness? You’re a fucking good fuck, aren’t you!”

Sweetness turned her head round and gazed sightlessly at Joy. “I do my best.”

The girls soon exited the factory, and found themselves in a broad area where other people in the settlement were busy. Most like Sweetness had no clothes at all, but some had rags which hid some of the unsightly scars and wounds which was a common feature in the encampment. A man staggered past them hobbling on a large branch on the one leg and half a set of genitals that were left to him. His skin was tattooed all over with strange khaki-like splodges. He greeted Joy, and hobbled onwards.

“What happened to him?” Sharon asked.

“Oh! He’s that rare thing: a deserter who didn’t get shot escaping. However, he got away through a minefield, which explains his injuries. But at least he’s alive!” Joy caught up with Sweetness who was standing by a battered foam mattress next to a wooden board where the letters ‘SEX FOR SALE’ were carved into it. “Well, here we are! Lie down, Sweetness!”

The young girl stretched herself out onto the mattress, leaning herself up on her shoulders, with her legs open and her shaved vagina on prominent display. Joy sat on a rock by the side of the mattress, and smiled sardonically at the three girls who stood around. “I guess selling yourself for sex is an option you girls can go for. Buttercup’d make you all like fucking aristocracy.”

“How much does it make?” Sharon asked, making a mental comparison with the cost of sex in Throb. “How much money do you charge for Sweetness?”

“Money! Money! There’s no fucking use for fucking money here. What you gonna do with it? Clean your arse with it? No, all you’ll get is food, candles, clothes if you want them, that kind of thing. But with fucking Buttercup you’ll wipe up.”

“Food, candles and clothes!” gasped Tracey. “That doesn’t sound like it’s fucking worth it!”

“Well, what do you fucking expect, dearie?” Joy sneered. “Cigarettes, booze and televisions? There’s no fucking electricity here even if you could get those things. Anyway, you can just bugger off. I can see my first customer coming.”

Sharon, Tracey and Buttercup stood discreetly back as a squat hairy man with a ragged cloak and a mangled arm approached carrying some turnips from whose ends were still dangling dried earth and roots. He gave the turnips to Joy, who examined them with a critical appraising eye. “Ten minutes!” she said to him, gesturing towards Sweetness. “Any more and it’s on credit.” The hairy man grunted, and handed Joy his cloak revealing some deep festering scars across his back amongst the long thick black hair. He then unceremoniously knelt on the mattress, holding out his tumescent penis towards Sweetness in the broad hairy hand that was left unmangled.

Sharon grimaced. Of all the men who’d ever fucked her, none of them had been quite as grotesque as this figure. For fuck sake, he only had one eye and an empty socket where the other should be. And she’d been fucked by some pretty fucking sorry specimens in her time! However, Sweetness had none of Sharon’s aesthetic doubts, aided no doubt by her blindness, and guided by the hairy man’s hands she plunged her mouth greedily onto his prick and gobbled and sucked it almost with desperation. As it came up to its erection, it really was not that splendid a specimen, no more than three inches long with the hair from the balls tangling with the coating of hair on its whole length. She pushed her head back and forth on its stubby fat length: the whole of it easily getting into her mouth. And then when she judged it to be as erect as it could be, she lay on her back and let him fuck her, which he did in a snorting, grunting way, his hairy arse thrusting up and down mechanically and not at all expertly.

“Have you ever been fucked by someone so horrible?” Tracey asked Buttercup as they watched.

“Well, not anyone scarred or disabled. They’d be sent off to fight in the war or whatever. But some of the people on the other side of the wall are pretty horrible. Fat and horrible, really. But you get used to it. One fuck’s much the same as another when you don’t think about it too much. How about you?”

“You fuck what you can,” Tracey answered philosophically. She looked sadly at her new lover. “What about last night? When you were … doing it with Joy? Was that horrible?”

Buttercup looked directly into Tracey’s eyes, and smiled sympathetically. She clearly recognised Tracey’s concern. And also her jealousy. “Oh! It was really horrible! Not like it is with you. You’re much nicer!”

Tracey felt a strange burning on her cheeks. This must be what it’s like to blush, she thought, reflecting on this unusual sensation which she’d never felt since she was young and probably almost a virgin. She smiled at Buttercup in a way that she was sure was hopelessly soppy and stupid. But she didn’t care, and anyway she couldn’t help it. Buttercup turned her unbelievably beautiful body towards Tracey, put her hands on her shoulders and pressed her face towards Tracey’s.

“Do you want to make love with me, Tracey sweetest?” she asked in a strangely low and reassuring voice.

Tracey tried but couldn’t articulate a response. She nodded her head.

“We’ll leave Sharon with Sweetness and Joy, and go into the woods. Is that what you’d like, Tracey?”

Sharon was horrified to see her friend blush a deep kind of redness, her freckles burning against her sunburnt skin. What was happening to Tracey? But she didn’t need an explanation as she watched her friend walk off hand-in-hand with Buttercup towards a small wood just fifty yards away from the settlement. The bastards! Off to do their dykish business and leaving her with a bunch of fucking cripples in a fucking wasteland! Part of her, however, was envious that it was Tracey and not her who was having a relationship with a woman who back home would be some kind of model, and a fucking rich one too. There was no fucking justice in the world, she mused as Tracey and Buttercup vanished into the shadows of the wood. She turned back to watch the hairy man’s prick push in and out of Sweetness’ arse.

“That’ll cost him extra,” commented Joy with a sneer. “You can’t fucking take more unless you fucking give more.”

Buttercup and Tracey wandered through the wood together hand-in-hand, Tracey struggling to keep down a fit of giggles that kept bursting uncontrollably towards the surface. Despite her misery, she had never felt so happy before. This was love. She was in love. For the first time in her life, she was in love. Unless you count Darren who used to fuck her in the garden shed his parents had owned when she was at school and strictly had only just lost her virginity. Or Wayne whose wife hated them when she found them screwing on the marital bed. Or even Baz who was probably the first really half-way decent fuck of her life. But this was different. She’d never felt so passionately and helplessly in love before.

Buttercup stopped in a small clearing, and tenderly turned Tracey towards her. Wordlessly and still smiling, she undid each button of Tracey’s blouse and with care pulled it open and slid it down Tracey’s arms. “Lie down!” she commanded with a whisper. Tracey obeyed, lying down naked on the moss and bracken, not really noticing the coarse dry twigs on her sun-scorched flesh. She closed her eyes, while a broad and silly smile spread over her face.

And then, she felt a tender licking and sucking on her ankles and feet. She pressed her chin against her chest and gazed down at Buttercup’s arse which was hovering over her stomach while her tongue busied itself lower down. Each lick, each nip of Buttercup’s teeth, each stroke of her beautiful classically contoured hands sent a tremor of delight through her body. She shuddered and shook, as Buttercup worked her way up patiently from her ankles, to her knees, ever upwards, her bum moving closer and closer towards her eyes and mouth. Onto the thighs, on the inside, on the outside. And then… And then… Buttercup’s teeth and tongue engaged with the lips of Tracey’s vagina, and snaggled in the short hairs of her crotch. And then, Buttercup’s vagina was close enough to Tracey’s face that her nose could smell its odours and her eyes could gaze lovingly at its the folds and details.

“I love you! I love you! I love you!” gasped Tracey, before sinking her nose into Buttercup’s arse (the smell of which was somehow sweeter than any arse she’d smelt before), and her tongue and teeth could reciprocate the pleasure Buttercup’s own was giving her below. She gasped and shuddered. And then... A pulse of pleasure rippled through her body. And exploded into a gasp. And then another gasp. Oh God! Oh God! Oh Fuck! She shivered, shuddered, and groaned as spasms of orgasm of a degree and depth she’d never before imagined crashed and thudded through her body like waves on a beach, like vibrations of a drum, like nothing she’d ever imagined before.

And then... While arching her back up to the rhythm of her internal orgasms there was a crash and a thump and a roaring noise that she at first attributed to her imagination thundering through the wood and shaking the top leaves of the trees.

Sharon also heard the noises. But she was much closer. She’d got fairly pissed off while standing around aimlessly near Sweetness and Joy. The hairy man had been replaced by another man, with a somewhat thin and bent prick and almost the ugliest and most disfigured face she’d ever seen. He was now lying down underneath Sweetness, whose shoulders were bouncing up and down as her slender body slid up and down the length of his prick. And then with the crash, and as the sky exploded, and the jet plane shot off, Sweetness was thrown off the man and flung by the shock onto the ground. Sharon stumbled and crouched on the ground, watching the jet plane disappear, seeing the smoke and flames emerge from the depths of the old factory where the plane had dropped its payload.

“What the fuck!” shouted Joy. She was also crouched down, looking at the factory behind them, Sweetness lay huddled on the parched dry earth, her hands over her eyes, and a trickles of semen sliding down her legs.

This explosion was followed by another series, as plane after plane shot at supersonic speed through the sky, their roar following explosion after explosion. Rubble and debris shot out from the factory and flew in all directions. A lump of tangled metal flew into Joy’s shoulder and sent her sideways onto the ground taking with it a chunk of Joy’s arm and leaving a trail of blood arching behind it. Her head fell against a stone and a trickled of blood seeped out from her mouth. The man stood up and caught a brick in his chest which sent him staggering backwards onto the ground.

Sharon crouched down, covered her head with her hands, as she’d imagined she ought to do during explosions, like they did in all the action movies. Though in the action movies, there wasn’t usually such strange quiet as the roar of jets and the vibrations of the explosions died down, to be following by a chorus of moans, cries and shrieks from all around. She peeked up through her fingers to see people from the settlement running, it seemed in all directions. Some had blood hiding the contours of what might once have been faces. There were others like Joy, lying on the ground, moaning and yelling. Smoke was billowing out from the factory and rolling around the ground. Dust was thrown up from explosions that must have hit the dry earth.

Then there was a crackle of what Sharon’s memory of action films told her must be automatic gun fire. A man was running across the ground a few yards from her, and then he fell to the ground, the back of his head now just a formless mess of red and grey. Sharon stood up. This was not a safe place to be. She saw Sweetness crouched near her, tears streaming down her face from her sightless eyes. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” she cried.

Sharon didn’t know the answer to that. She could see some shadows which looked like armoured vehicles driving towards them across the parched open fields. She also saw running towards them, carrying guns, the silhouettes of what must only be soldiers. But not soldiers as she thought they should look like. They had guns which they were firing as they ran along. But otherwise they were naked. Their skin was all blotched with green and brown, and, oddest of all, each and everyone of them was sporting an erect penis which was proceeding ahead of them.

They were shouting to each other and to the world in general. “Glory be to the King!” one shouted. “And to the King all Glory!” another replied. “May he live forever!” another shouted.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” shouted Sharon. Every one for themselves. She picked herself up, intending to run to safety somewhere, anywhere. And then just before she got ready to move she saw Sweetness staggering towards Joy who was moaning inarticulately.

“Joy! Joy! What’s going on? Answer me! What’s going on!”

“I’m no fucking charity!” snarled Sharon, trying to persuade herself to leave Sweetness and be fucked. And then she saw a shadowy figure, and his monstrous erection, aim his submachine gun at Joy and then blast it in her direction. Joy’s body spasmed for the last time as the bullets shot through her and sent portions of her face and breasts flying into Sweetness’ own face.

Despite herself, Sharon ran up to Sweetness. “Fuck Joy! Come on!” she shouted, grabbing the blind girl by the wrist and dragging her with her. However, their own escape was barely any distance at all, until she found herself confronted by the erect penis and steely testicles of another naked soldier. She stopped, and hugged Sweetness tightly to herself. Who else was there to comfort her? Or to give comfort to?

“These ones are alive!” the soldier shouted.

“And they’re not fucking cripples either!” responded another.

“The Sergeant’ll be pleased with these ones!” shouted a third, as the three soldiers surrounded the two girls.

Sharon lay on the ground, shivering from fear, clutching Sweetness’ naked body which shuddered from even greater fear and misery, staring up at a trio of erect pricks and gun barrels. “What the fuck are you going to do with us?” she managed to ask through the thick mucus of despair that had risen from her throat, humiliatingly aware of the stream of piss that was trickling down her bare legs.