‘I... I would really rather not leave the train,’ she managed, ‘and yet it is imperative that I speak to an officer.’
‘Someone after you?’ the Corporal asked.
‘Yes,’ Thrift admitted, searching frantically for a convincing story which did not involve her being a disgraced wanton. ‘I... I’ve been abducted...’
‘Abducted!? Fuck me... begging your pardon, Miss. Best fetch the Lieutenant then, we’ll have a squad out in a jiffy, and then we’ll see...’
‘No!’ Thrift said hastily. ‘Not abducted, exactly, not as such, more... more forced to an unpleasant obligation, that is... an engagement, to a young man who proved most unsuitable. He... he placed some sort of sleeping draught in my companion’s afternoon tea, and then... then pressed himself upon me, in... in the most unsuitable manner...’
‘We can see that, love!’ one called, other laughing in response as Thrift’s face flared a richer scarlet still.
‘Shut your gab!’ the Corporal shouted. ‘Ain’t you got no feelings? I’m fetching the Lieutenant...’
‘No, really!’ Thrift said quickly. ‘I’d... I’d much rather stay here with you, I really would.’
‘Yeah, but this bloke what tried to...’
‘Oh, um... it would be best advised, really, I think, if I were to stay here. The scandal, you understand, should...’
She broke off at the bang and swish of another train passing on the adjoining track. A moment later her own train began to move, accelerating rapidly, to her deep relief. Outside the window the scene shifted as they left the cutting, to reveal the flank of the moor, and a dozen black figures no more than two hundred yards away, with the two great hounds straining at their leashes. The soldiers stared and cast amazed glances at Thrift, then, as the train came out onto the viaduct the corporal spoke again.
‘You’d best get back to the mail van, Miss, and sit tight. There’ll be Hell to pay if the serge finds out and we’ve not reported you.’
‘I understand,’ Thrift answered, ‘and please be assured of my deepest gratitude.’
She bobbed down, as good a curtsey as she could manage while shielding her breasts and quim. The corporal nodded to one of the men, younger than most with jet black hair and a foxy face. He rose and motioned Thrift to move further down the train. For a moment she hesitated, realising that to turn meant providing a display of the wet drawers clinging to her bottom, which she could not possibly hope to cover with her hands, and then turned, reasoning that it would look more foolish still to walk backwards down the corridor.
The next carriage was a supply wagon, with the mail in the final compartment, into which the young soldier ushered Thrift, who sat down on a case. He made to leave, but hesitated as he began to slide the door shut, withdrew, only to return a second later, and speak.
‘Begging your pardon, Miss, but I was wondering if I might ask a small favour?’
‘You have been of great assistance,’ Thrift answered. ‘Naturally I shall endeavour to assist in any way suitable.’
‘Thank you, Miss,’ he answered, bobbing his head, ‘but no, it’ll only seem foolish...’
‘No, no, pray tell me,’ Thrift insisted, seeing that he was blushing, and that he was little more than a boy, perhaps no older than herself.
‘It... it’s like this,’ he said, and there was a catch in his voice. ‘Me and the lads, you see, we’re off from Glasgow tomorrow, a long haul. Our regiment’ll be standing guard for the weather control stations in the Canadian provinces, Baffin Island, Ellesmere Island, Victoria Island, terrible places, as cold as Hell, and not a homely face to be seen.’
‘I can imagine, perhaps,’ Thrift responded, with genuine sympathy, ‘but how can I help?’
‘Well... no, it’s too foolish...’
‘No, really.’ He seemed about to cry.
‘I... I just wondered if you would... would hold me for a moment,’ he finally stammered. ‘I... I only completed training two weeks back... and... and I’ve never been away... and...’
He stopped. Thrift’s arms were already open, a moment later he was in them, his head cradled to her chest. He had shut the door behind him, plunging them into absolute darkness, of which Thrift was glad, her own feelings almost overpowering. She began to stroke his hair and gave a low sob as he nuzzled more firmly into her chest and stole an arm around her waist. Again he sighed, and Thrift settled back against the pile of mailbags behind her, with the feeling of comfort from holding another human growing quickly. Only when she heard the soft rasp of a zip did she speak.
‘Excuse me, but...’
‘Please, I beg you... just in my hand... you can’t imagine what it would mean to me. Please!’
An angry refusal sprang to Thrift’s lips, but she bit it back, thinking of how she had felt at Weathercote House, how he and the others had helped her, albeit unwittingly, and the long, cold year ahead of him.
‘If you must,’ she said gently.
His answer was a sob, and a moment later Thrift caught the scent of cock. She closed her eyes, letting him cuddle into her chest, his face right between her breasts, shivering with his passion and the rhythm of his masturbation. His grip grew tighter and he had begun to nuzzle, in her cleavage, then at her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth through her chemise. She let out a gasp at the sensation, and a moment later had gently eased his head up, to undo her chemise and let him suckle her bare breasts, telling herself it was an act of Christian charity even as the urge to have her quim filled began to climb in her head.
With his mouth working hard on her nipple and his whole body jerking to the furious tugs on his cock, Thrift was struggling not to simply lie back in the mailbags and spread her thighs to be mounted. She knew she shouldn’t, and that to do so would be the first time she had accepted a man in her quim by choice, but that only brought the thought of how Dr Molloy had taken her virginity, and how glorious Elizabeth had said it felt. Whatever happened, if she was brought back to Weathercote House, if she escaped, it was not a chance she was likely to have again...
‘Mount me, now!’ she gasped, and her legs were open, her hands pulling at her drawers.
Even as she opened herself to accept him he was on top of her, their bodies collapsing back among the mail bags, and a moment later his cock had found the juicy, open hole of her quim and he was inside her. She cried out in pure joy as her quim filled, a sensation more glorious still than anything she had imagined, instantly setting her dizzy with wanton passion. She took him into her arms, cuddled tight as he pumped into her, faster and faster, puffing and grunting, until at last Thrift realised he was going to come in her and with a desperate effort of will pushed him off.
‘Not... not in me!’ she gasped.
His response was another grunt, but he pulled out, to swing himself around on the mailbags and prod his cock at Thrift’s face. It got her in the eye, still slimy with her own juice, but as she opened her mouth to protest he pushed again, filling it, first with cock and then with thick, salty cream. Thrift’s eyes popped and her cheeks bulged, but he had her by the hair, and there was nothing she could do but let him finish off and swallow as best she could. It left her gasping, and struggling for words, but he spoke before she could get them out.
‘I... I had better be getting back,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Miss.’
A moment later he was gone, and Thrift sighed as she settled back among the mailbags. The urge to play with her quim was overwhelming, the taste of cock thick in her mouth and the smell of their coupling in the air. As her hand went down she was telling herself that she had been more considerate than wanton, with the poor boy off to the icy fastness of the Canadian Islands for a year, but as she began to rub it was the feel of his cock in her body, quim and mouth, that she was thinking of.
Barely had she started than she felt the first gentle contractions and littl
e thrills of pleasure, but she stopped abruptly at the sound of footsteps in the corridor. She hastily closed her drawers, struggling to compose herself but was sure nobody could fail to miss the reek in the air. The door slid back and she sat up on the crate, to find another soldier stood in the doorway, older than the first, and grinning.
‘Better be quick,’ he announced. ‘Corp thinks I’m in the pisser.’
‘How do...,’ Thrift began, and stopped abruptly as he flopped a large, baby pink penis out of his fly.
‘Bigger’n Jack’s, eh?’ he said cheerfully, bouncing it in his hand with obvious pride.
‘I really do not think,’ Thrift began, but he was already beside her, the half open door leaving him in shade, but with his cock showing as a fat, pale sausage shape.
‘Come on, love,’ he urged. ‘Ain’t I good enough, then? Come on, cop a feel and you’ll soon change your mind.’
‘Do you really know no better than to...’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘Come on, love, just a suck. Won’t take a moment, I swear.’
He pushed his cock close to her face and she caught the smell.
‘I... it.... oh, very well, but you are most importunate!’
Even as her mouth came open he had pushed his belly forward to ease his cock in. Thrift began to suck, feeling more than a little put upon, and also ashamed of herself because for all her feigned reluctance she badly wanted to do it. As he grew in her mouth she was wondering if he’d noticed if she rubbed herself while she sucked him, and how it would feel to come with an erect penis in her mouth. For a moment her rapidly fading sense of shame held her back, and then she was doing it, stroking the lips of her quim as he took her by the hair and began to fuck her mouth.
As the now turgid head pushed into the back of Thrift’s throat she began to gag, breaking the rhythm of her own masturbation, but he was getting urgent, grunting and gasping as he used her mouth as a slide, indifferent to her mute protests and weak struggles. He came, deep in her throat, to leave her gasping for breath with seed and saliva running down her chin, and had gone, thanking her briefly.
No sooner had Thrift forced herself to swallow her revolting mouthful than another man was there, cock in hand, looking hopeful. She made to protest, got her mouth filled once more for her trouble, and gave in, abandoning herself to sucking cock for just as many as chose to use her. As he came erect she was telling herself it was an act of kindness, charity even, but her fingers were soon on her quim again, teasing herself as her mouth was used for the soldier to fuck in.
He came, only not down her throat, but in her face, whipping his cock out at the last instant to spray his come in her hair and down one cheek. By then she was on the edge of orgasm, and managed only a feeble protest at the treatment. Another man replaced him almost instantly, and she realised there was a queue to use her, men in the corridor jostling each other and sniggering over what they intended to do. Two were beyond the one she was sucking, cocks ready in their hands, and an instant after she had been given her mouthful of sperm he was replaced.
Her hands were taken and put on other cocks, which she struggled to handle, biting down her resentment at not being allowed to masturbate. One had got behind her and began to grope her breasts, with her chemise held open to make sure his mates got a good view. The man in her mouth saw, pulled out, and emptied his load into her cleavage and over both plump globes of flesh, causing the man handling them to cry out in disgust.
It didn’t stop him, and he was rubbing warm come over her flesh as yet another cock was shoved rudely into her mouth. One of the men in her hands came, all down her arm, and man behind her had begun to rub himself on her bottom where the upper part of her cheeks stuck out over the crate. Realising she no longer had any control whatever over what was happening to her, she began to struggle a little, wanting to come herself, yet fearful that she would be fucked and left pregnant.
As she let go of the cocks she was holding her hands were put firmly back, then the man in her mouth had pulled out and come in her face, closing one of her eyes with a thick blob of seed. She was immediately babbling for patience, and for a handkerchief, but none of them paid any attention, jostling close and demanding their turns. The man behind her came, spurting up in the crease of bottom to soil her drawers. Another one did it over her breasts, and a third, one more in her face, before yet another jammed his erection into her mouth, calling her a wanton slut as she struggled to suck on his erection.
She felt hot sperm erupt over her arm and down the back of her neck, and then she had been tipped up, squealing as the cock left her mouth, onto her back in the mail bags. A man mounted her, driving his cock up into her quim as her head was pulled around and her cry of protest shut off by yet another cock. All round her they were laughing, and egging the man inside her on, to fuck her hard and to finish quickly. He did, pulling out at the last second to come all over her belly, and another had replaced him moments later, just as the man in her mouth came, holding his cock deep so that the seed exploded from her nose and she was left gagging, unable to speak as the man inside her filled her hole with cream.
Thrift gave a weak, despairing wail as she felt the wet of his come squash out around the mouth of her sex, but her mouth had been filled again a moment later, and her quim, the instant the man who’d come inside her had withdrawn. Still she struggled, squirming on their cocks, with the ecstasy of her fucking warring with the indignity of it. Her legs were up and wide around the man between them, her head twisted to allow the one in her mouth to use her properly, and both her hands held on erect cocks, her body used in every way save up her bottom, and as the man inside her came and strong hands began to turn her over, she realised that too was to be sacrificed.
Sure enough, no sooner was she bottom up than a long, hard cock had been settled between her cheeks. She tried to protest, but the man who’d been in her mouth chose that moment to come, right in her eye, and her words broke to a squeal of shock and disgust even as her bottom hole pushed in, and opened, too slippery with come to be held. Her mouth came wide in a long, heartfelt gasp as her rectum filled with cock, and for the second time in her life she was being buggered, gasping and moaning to the pushes as the men around her cried out in delight and shock.
It only took moments, and then the man had come in her gut and was pulling out, to leave her bottom hole bubbling sperm as her fingers slipped back, to find her quim. Even as she began to rub herself she was sobbing in wanton despair for her own behaviour, but it didn’t stop her. A man began to rut in her bottom crease, another twisted her head around to make her suck his cock, but still she rubbed, her ecstasy rising, higher still as her mouth was filled with cream one more time, and peaking as a fat cock head was jammed in, up her already pulsing bottom hole.
She came to the feel of a cock being forced deep into her rectum, the full, fat length moving up her as she shuddered and writhed on the floor, with his balls pressing to her urgent fingers just as she hit a final, blissful peak. Then it was over, and she was lying limp and exhausted among the mail bags as she was buggered, the man up her bottom taking his time before pulling out and emptying himself over her bare cheeks and the seat of her drawers.
Most had left, and the last few hurried away even as Thrift dragged herself up into a crawling position. She had seed dripping from her nose and mouth, plastered over both breasts, hanging from her nipples and running down her belly. Her quim and bottom hole were sore and filthy with come, her jaw aching, both her eyes were plastered shut and her hair matted over her forehead and on her crown. Only one man had stayed back, the Corporal, and for all that she suspected it was him who had been the first to bugger her, she let him help her to a tiny convenient facility. She washed, soaked and wrung out her drawers and chemise and put them back on, feeling weak and dizzy, but struggling to turn her mind back to her escape.
She had no idea where she was, save that they
had to be in Carlisle within minutes. In nothing but wet underclothes she would be apprehended immediately, and yet that was as good a choice as she had. Eventually she would be taken to a senior officer, and all would be well. It took all her will power to compose herself as she returned to the corridor to find the Corporal and half a dozen grinning privates, but she managed a polite nod. The Corporal answered with a familiar grin, and spoke.
‘Alright there then? Didn’t expect you to be so game, not a Lady like you. Glad you were.’
‘I am very well, thank you, Corporal,’ Thrift answered, ‘although a Gentleman would know when not to pass remarks. In any event, I wish you good fortune in our Canadian possessions, secure in the knowledge that however stern your task, you are doing your duty for the King, and for the British Empire.’
‘Thanking you, Miss,’ the Corporal answered, touching his cap with a gesture that held only a trace of mockery. ‘But Canada?’
‘Canada, yes,’ Thrift responded, ‘the weather control stations on the northern islands, is it not, for a year’s tour of duty?’
‘No Miss, not that, what ever gave you that idea? We’re for a month of exercises in the Cheviots, we are.’
‘Oh,’ Thrift answered.
Two of the soldiers laughed and she found herself blushing furiously and full of indignation, but could think of nothing to say, or do, save to lift her nose in the air and pretended to look out of the window, where a scattering of light was visible in the distance, but nothing more.
‘Five minutes, we’ll be in, Miss,’ the Corporal remarked. ‘Best get you a greatcoat.’
‘You have coats?’ Thrift queried.
‘Plenty in stores,’ he answered.
She sighed, but put the heavy garment on as it was offered to her, and a moment later the train had began to slow. The Corporal spoke again.
Schooled for Service Page 10
