I Never Even Wanted to Come Here...

Author's Note: Again, this is JUST FICTION folks. Really. If you don't like it don't read it, you've been warned. Oh, I also don't have any idea about Uzbek names... so I'm just using American names - we can say that the guards' translator made up American names for them. Sorry for the inconsistency - I know it's lame, if anyone has any Uzbek name suggestions I would be happy to change them! :)


Chapter 2 - "The Nightmare Begins."


The two guards were staring at me. I couldn't tell if there was anyone else in the station, there were no windows so I couldn't tell what time it was, and I didn't even recognize them, not that I could remember what my captors had looked like in the first place. I'd barely seen them. I'd just seen the dirt road as my face hit it, and felt sand in my eyes. I was still taking stock of myself, flexing muscles to see if I was injured. I seemed okay, from what I could tell. And I didn't think anything had been done to me while I was unconscious, as I was still dressed exactly the same as I had been a the market, minus one green scarf.

I stood up as best I could with my hands tied behind my back and walked towards the bars at the front of my small cell. The cot was uncomfortable and I wanted to see if I could walk alright. I needed to assess the situation completely before I decided on a course of action. My mind was working overtime trying to think of ways to get out of this. There was still the option of bribery, and sometimes they lost their nerve before hassling an American. I had so much hope. I was more defiant than afraid, though I was pretty scared. My clothes were dirty, I notice as I stepped slowly towards the bars, I was covered in dust from my fall at the market. I'm sure I looked like hell.

I stood at the bars, looking at the two prison guards, who were dressed in shabby military fatigues and were obviously armed to the teeth. As far as I could tell they were the only ones around, so I didn't feel totally overwhelmed. They were still discussing in heated tones and I'm sure they were talking about me as they kept glancing over at me and grinning. I figured they were probably going to ransom me back to my family, this sort of stuff happens frequently and they usually don't hurt the prisoner - it lowers the asking price. Or so I thought. At the time I still thought I had a chance to ever see my family again. I was still thinking about the green scarf.

One of the guards walked up to me and broke my train of thought. He spoke his language but didn't sound very imposing, and to my surprise his companion spoke to me in English. He told me he would be the translator, to make sure everything went slowly in my - the word surprised me - interrogation. "This must be a mistake," I said, looking at him and hoping he'd see my honesty; "I don't even know what I'm here for. I was just at the market, my parents are doctors... I'm not-" He cut me off, apparently relaying my message to the other guard. He laughed. "You're a thief," the translator reported, "we don't expect you to tell us the truth right away. You'll just come with us now." The Uzbek-speaking guard opened the barred cell door and grabbed my arm, painfully in the same place I had been grabbed earlier. I hesitated, resisting to move because I still felt I should protest the injustice of what was happening. Maybe if they only understood...

The English-speaking guard seemed to lose his patience quickly, and he pulled me hard, I stumbled forward. The other guard grabbed my free arm and together they dragged me through the empty and run-down headquarters into a small room off to the side, with a metal door - no bars this time, no nothing. They pushed me into the room and fell to my knees on the floor - it was hard to keep my balance with my arms tied behind my back, especially when I was intent on not cooperating with their stupid investigation. The two guards walked into the room and were joined by a third, whose sight was intimidating: He was tall, very tanned, dark hair down to his shoulders, muscular everywhere and huge. The other guards were larger than me but that doesn't take much - at just over 5"4 I was relatively thin and petite, I usually got teased by my friends for being a "red-haired pixie" or "freckle fairy." The other two guards were also dark skinned, with black hair and brown eyes, but rather than beefy they were tall and wiry, though they looked strong. There was no extra flab showing in their cargo fatigues - no matter how shabby the uniforms were.

After the three soldiers were in the room, the door clicked shut and I knew it was locked. A small light turned on over head, I noticed the floor of the room was brown and dirty and the walls white, there was one desk in front of me behind which stood the English-speaking guard. The first thing he told me were the guards' names - he'd given them English names so that I'd remember them (and also so their real names would never come out if I escaped...) and then told me that "sir" was an appropriate way for a prisoner to address a guard. Fuck that, I thought - I'd never call these animals "sir." The tall beefy third guard was called John, the English speaking one introduced himself as Chris, and the last one, who'd been giving orders, was called Red. Weird name, huh?

"You can stay there, like you are," Chris told me - "that's the position for the beginning of interrogation." I sighed. I sat back on my heels, arms tied behind my back, on my knees on the cold hard floor, staring at the three morons defiantly. I started talking again, "Look, this is a mistake - I didn't steal anything, I don't have anything so I couldn't have stolen it, I saw the thief running-"

But they were laughing. Not listening. This was a farce, an excuse. They knew I didn't steal it. I was angry. Red came up to me, behind me, and to my terror grabbed my shoulder-length red hair and pulled back, hard. I let out a yelp and felt a rush of fear fly through me. I had to get out of this. "We think you did steal it," Chris translated for Red, "and we're going to find it. You can't come into our country and steal things. You'd better confess, or you won't like the punishment."

I offered money. I said I could pay the fine for stealing, it was okay, we could just all forget this. I was struggling for words, Red still had my hair and I was uncomfortable physically and mentally. John laughed and hissed in his language, "you don't get it - it's not money that we want..." And then I got it.

I started struggling wildly, I kicked my legs out from under me and kicked violently at everything as the men approached me. Red yanked up on my hair and I felt my neck was about to break but I didn't care, this wasn't going to be easy for them. I was crying now, and shouting, anything - anything at all - i was desperate and I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"We have to search you now," the translator said. He told me to stand up against the wall. Like hell. I kicked out and hit him sharp in the shin, he swore and got angry. He barked an order to Red and I felt myself being pulled up, by my hair, which was terribly painful. I wailed and cried while I struggled with them, no match for the three of them pushing me up against the wall. Then I saw it, Red had pulled a knife out of his belt and was approaching me with a terrible, disgusting grin on his face. I tried to move but the other two had me pinned down. "We've got to make sure you're not hiding anything, you lying thief," the translator said. I shook my head. "I'll cooperate, please, anything, don't do this" but it was no use. I felt the sharp tip of the knife pressing through my thin cotton shirt and I cried out "no" in long, pleading sobs as Red tore a neat line down the center of my shirt, between my breasts.

The cotton was easily ripped away and lay in shreds on the floor, along with my hope and dignity. They laughed and joked with eachother, and I could see through the military uniforms that they were aroused. I just struggled and begged them to stop...

My bra was next to go, a quick slice at the center and it too fell away. Then my skirt, which Red didn't even touch, while Chris began idly touching my breasts which swayed as I tried to struggle, John dropped my skirt in a quick flash, and it lay pitifully around my ankles. All I was left wearing was simple white cotton underwear with lacy trim... nothing special, but it made these guys happy. John held me back and Chris took his loathsome hands off of me to stand back with Red and admire. They were still joking in their own language as Red approached me and began to remove my panties with his rough, dirty hands. I sobbed and kicked but he was stronger than he looked and had no trouble pinning my legs to the wall as he tugged. Eventually he got frustrated and ripped them off. I was now totally exposed to my three prison guards, my hands were tied behind my back, and I was pinned to the wall.

Red stepped up to me, so close I could smell his disgusting scent and feel his hair brush against my shoulder; he pressed up against me, I thought he was going to try to kiss me but he didn't - instead I felt his hand touching the side of my face and then down... over my breasts and down the center of my stomach as I fought senselessly against his weight... then I felt his fingers press onto my sex and I grunted, actually - I don't know what sound I made, the thoughts were rushing through my head faster than ever before. Just get through this, that's all- just survive, just get it over with and then find a way out. I was still thinking about life after this death.

I felt a finger rubbing roughly over me, parting the folds of skin and forcing its way inside. I cringed and rested my head against the wall, my face contorted in pain and embarassment; this seemed to amuse the guards to continued laughing. I could feel Red's erection pressing against me and it terrified me, but I was distracted again when I felt his fingers abruptly leaving my vagina and moving farther back. Without warning or preparation I felt his finger force itself into my ass, and I let out an audible scream. I tried to bite him, his ear, anything, but he was just out of reach. I couldn't kick without losing my balance.

Thankfully, the finger left me as abruptly as it had entered, he stood back and spoke to Chris, who laughed. "Well," he said, "you're not hiding it there, but we want to check again just to make sure." What? Still this pretense? I slid down the wall, crying and exposed, and I pressed my legs together and up towards my chest. Defensive, defensive I thought.

But I was again pulled up by the shoulders by John, who easily and completely without effort carried me and dropped me onto the desk unceremoniously. I looked to the side and shuddered when I realized that all three men had unzipped their pants and were stroking their fairly large erections - especially the monstrous third guard who must have sported a full 8 inches. My hands were crushed painfully under my back and my legs kicked and struggled for balance so I wouldn't fall off the desk. "stop," i begged them, "please, stop, you don't need to do this..." but I was told I talked to much, and recieved a hard and merciless slap accross the face from John who had climbed up on the desk and was straddling me. I felt I was going to have a black eye, my whole face throbbed from the blow. I tried to kick up, anything, but I was lost...

Chris and Red helped by parting my legs and my resistance was useless, John was lowering himself onto me and I couldn't scoot away or fight. But what I felt next wasn't what I expected - I felt a hand (I couldn't tell whose) lightly touching my clitoris and stroking me, I was confused, but I heard them laughing - of course, they didn't want to damage me... They were trying to lubricate me so John could fuck me. I tried to resist, but the hand stroking me was so gentle my body reacted against my will and I felt myself getting wet, to my disgust. Chris laughed, "a theif and a whore!" he joked, but the hand withdrew and before I could think another thought John plunged himself into me and I was screaming with pain and horror. He was grabbing my breasts as he pounded, so hard it hurt, and then grabbing my hips to pull them up towards his as he thrusted. At that point all I could do was cry silently. I wanted to die. I think I did die. I turned off my mind as he raped me, thrusting harder and harder again and again until finally I felt him stiffen and knew he had cum inside of me. He pulled out and the others laughed, I could feel his left-over semen dripping out of me and I wondered if I could will my heart to stop beating.

As he stepped back, I knew the other two were ready for their turn and I wondered how long this would last.

Little did I know...

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Note: sorry it took so long to lead up to that, just had ot set the story up. Any suggestions? Feedback appreciated! :) Now I actually have to study......