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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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Raping Their Way Through Georgia
by Old Bill (address withheld)
***
A Union cavalry company decides to spend the night at a
rural plantation and enjoy the women. (MM/f-teen, ped,
1st, nc, rp, v, sn, history)
***
The colonel stepped down from his horse, brushed at his
dusty trousers with his sweat-stained hat and mounted
the steps to the wide front door. It had already been a
long, hard day with a good bit of dying. He used the
big, brass knocker and an old black man answered.
"Grampa," he said with a smile, "summon your frigging
master and then skedaddle. You're free. Tell the rest
of them darkies down in the quarters."
The white haired man nodded and then shuffled away. In
a few minute a lean man appeared in a light-colored
suit, white shirt and string tie. He stroked his
whiskers and looked the officer up and down with
disdain.
"Sir," said the dignified man, "I'll ask you to get off
my porch and stop those men pitching tents out in my
cornfield."
The colonel smiled, drew his long-barreled Colt,
thumbed back the hammer, extended his arm and shot the
white-bearded man squarely in the middle of his
shrunken chest.
He stumbled back a step or two and sat, looking
astonished, then turned and collapsed in a growing
puddle of blood.
The colonel holstered his smoking weapon and smiled as
a lean woman hurried down the stairs in a wide-skirted
summer dress, her hair in disarray, her pale breasts
almost flying free of her gown.
"What's happened?" she cried. "Grandfather!"
The colonel stepped forward, grabbed her wrist and
pulled her out on the porch. "I assume you are the
mistress of this house?"
She nodded, too shocked to speak, weeping silently,
chewing her lips.
"As you can see my company is camping here tonight, and
my officers and I will be staying in your home.
Understand?" He shook her to get her attention.
She nodded, looking from his grizzled face to the
sprawled body in the front hall. She wiped her tear
stained cheeks.
"Get your people out here to take care of that body and
then I want to meet the rest of your family in the
front parlor."
She shook her head and blinked at him. "You bastard,"
she said clearly.
He backhanded her, bringing blood to her mouth. "Move,
woman," he yelled. "Damned rebel bitch!"
She stumbled back into her home, met with the elderly
black man who had answered the door and then hurried up
the wide staircase.
A young man with a double-barreled shotgun passed her
on the stairs, and the colonel smiled as he pulled his
big pistol out, rested it on his forearm and shot the
youngster in the belly just as he raised his weapon, a
fine shot at twenty paces.
The boy tumbled down the last three or four steps and
fell atop the corpse, feet kicking. The colonel stepped
up, turned him over with his foot, cocked his horse
pistol, laughed at the choking plea for mercy and put a
big .44 caliber slug right between the young man's blue
eyes, blowing out the back of his skull. Then he smiled
up at the horrified woman who had been watching from
above, feeling his cock surge.
Five minutes later with both bodies removed and all the
slaves told they were now free; Colonel Mason met with
the frightened family in their ornate parlor. There
were four of them, all female, and all fair if not
beautiful. The colonel smiled and silently made his
choice of a bedmate, shifting his unlit cigar to the
other side of his mouth, a half-empty bottle of rye
whisky in his hand.
"Sergeant, first sergeant!" he yelled.
The big man appeared, stomped his feet, saluted and
stood at ease.
The colonel grabbed the woman he had met on the stairs,
pulled her to him by her long hair and demanded, "Your
name, bitch?" She was the oldest of the group, a lovely
matron of perhaps thirty with a fine posture and proud
air.
"I'm Mrs. Henry Harris, sir, and these are my sisters
and a cousin. If you are a real man, you will leave us
alone."
The colonel laughed. "Mrs. Harris evidently does not
have a name, sergeant. You and the other sergeants, and
your corporals if you have time, may use her until
sundown and call her what you like. Then bring her back
here in about an hour. We shall need a servant to serve
our meal, to take care of the slop buckets, and I think
she will do. I hope by then she will have learned some
manners." He handed the man his bottle and smiled.
"Sir," said the sergeant loudly and took the woman by
the forearm and dragged her away, smiling broadly after
drinking deeply, glad his officer was such an
understanding gentleman, sorry it was so late in the
day and that the officers were keeping all the young
and pretty ones for themselves. He downed the whisky,
tossed the bottle away, and scratched at his swelling
groin as he twisted her arm up into the middle of her
back and tore her dress open between her large, soft
breasts, ignoring her sobs as he yanked at her corset.
He licked his lips, eager to be in her white body.
"You," the colonel said, pointing at the youngest girl,
"what's your name; how old are you?"
"What is he doing to Jane? I'm Misteria; I'm thirteen
and you're a beast." The small girl stood, fists
clenched, breasts bobbling in her light dress with its
tiny waist and full skirt. Her hair was done in a mass
of ringlets.
"Misteria, that's a new one. Well, you are very pretty,
and I am going to let you entertain my aide and the
lieutenant over there. He's young too and his tool is
right skinny." He waved at the two young officers near
the pocket doors. One stepped out, his spurs jangling,
and pulled the girl to him, bending her back and
forcing his mouth to hers as he kneaded her buttocks
with one hand and held her head with the other. She
beat on him aimlessly, and he tossed her to the other
young officer who quickly stripped her to the waist, a
wide smile on his face.
"Take her upstairs and find out which is her room.
Bring her to me once you're both satisfied." The
colonel smiled and licked his lips. "I will take my
ease right here. Teach her to suck, if you have time."
The two young officers hurried the girl out, ignoring
her squeals, her toes barely touching the floor, her
bodice hanging loosely from her tiny, waist-pinching
stays.
"What's your name, Reb?" he asked the ripe blonde
cowering on the settee, mouth agape.
"She's just a baby," the frightened young woman said,
standing and lifting her chin proudly.
"Your name?" the colonel demanded, lifting her chin.
"Rebecca. I'm engaged. My, my betrothed is with General
Bragg, and he will kill you all."
"Is he now? And how old are you Miss Rebecca?" He
grasped the locket hanging on her chest, yanked it free
and put it in his pocket.
"Seventeen if it is any of your business." She
shuddered, putting her hand to her neck.
"Captain Cochran," said the colonel sharply, "meet
Rebecca. The cook fires won't be ready for an hour.
Enjoy yourself. She's yours for the night, understand,
if you want her, so don't wear her out too quickly.
I'll likely want a piece of her ass later."
He stepped up before the last girl, the luscious young
redhead who sat cowering on the sofa, her eyes wet with
tears, her light green dress baring most of her
freckled chest. He lifted her chin and smiled into her
hazel eyes. "Your name, honey?" he asked, feeling his
cock surge. "Stand up," he ordered.
"Rusty is what they call me, but my name is Ramona.
Please don't hurt me." She bit at he lower lip and kept
her hands linked behind her, thrusting out her young
orbs.
"Of course not, Rusty. I'd never do that. You are very
pretty you know." He laughed as he took off his gun
belt and unbuttoned his jacket. "I'll bet you do know,
and we are going to get to know each other real well,
yes sir." He unbuttoned his flies and flopped out his
big cock which was purple and heavily veined, excited
by the beauty of the women and the knowledge of what
was to come. "You know what this is?" he asked, lifting
his fat prick and bobbling it in his hand as if it were
a five-pound salami.
A gurgling scream came from above followed by some loud
grunting and cries of pain.
"Sounds like one of your sisters just became a woman,"
he said, his prick now fully hard and slapping into his
calloused palm, its head the size, shape and color of a
good-sized crabapple.
She glanced at it, looked away and shook her head.
Ramona was fifteen years old, a virgin who had ruptured
her hymen on her favorite horse while jumping fences
she had been told to avoid. She had enjoyed a number of
eager suitors, kissed several but had no intention of
marrying any of the boys she knew. No man had ever
touched her breasts much less her privates. She used
her beauty to get her way.
"Poor Misteria. She's my cousin. Rebecca's my sister."
She tried to move away from the man and the thing
extended before him, the huge thing, the single-eyed
thing oozing spit. It looked like a fence post.
"This here," the colonel said, after yanking the girl
back down on the settee and rubbing his fat cockhead on
her pale cheek, "this here's a woman pleaser, a big
one, little girl. Come on now, give it a kiss."
She shook her head, tossing her unruly pile of auburn
curls and clamping his lips together. Her heart was
beating rapidly and there was a foul taste in her
throat.
The colonel reached down with both hands and grabbed
the girl's dress at its puffy sleeves, turned the young
woman over on her face and tore the light gown and
petticoat from her lithe body. Then he ripped away her
shift and silken pantaloons so that she lay before him
naked except for her tiny corset and her pale stockings
and stylish shoes.
"By damn," said the colonel loudly, reaching down to
slap the girls rounded ass gently, "you are a fine
looking bitch, but I sure don't know why you're wearing
stays."
The girl rolled over showing just a knot of red hair
between her legs, sat up, tossed back her rich mop of
hair and thrust out her soft, round breasts. "I must,
all proper ladies must. I can't go out without one. Let
me go, you beast." She tried to shake free, arousing
him even more.
The colonel sat beside her, grasped one of her full
breasts and pulled her to him, capturing her mouth with
his, squeezing her breast and pinching out her rosebud
nipple as his tongue explored her mouth. He pushed her
down on her back, pulled one long leg up on the curve
of the settee and lifted the other to his shoulder.
Then he brought the head of his now rigid member to the
girls pouting lips in their nest of reddish curls,
slapped her twice to calm her down and set his ram at
the tiny entrance of her pink sex. The girl begged him
not to hurt her, not to rape her. Tears flowed down her
freckled cheeks. "I'm a maiden," she cried. "Please
don't, don't, don't!"
He gritted his teeth, rose on his knees, held her
buttocks with both hands and drove six or seven inches
of his stiff shaft into her unsullied vagina. Rusty
closed her eyes, arched her back and held back her
scream of pain as she was torn open. The feeling was
unimaginable to the youngster; it was as if something
had exploded within her, tearing her apart. He backed
off some, gritting his teeth, and did it again, and
then again and yet again, bouncing her ripe body on the
small sofa as he drove inch after thick inch into her,
ripping her flesh, battering at her cervix and then
butting into her womb.
Above stairs in a frilly bedroom, Rebecca had her long
legs wrapped about Captain Cochran's sturdy body as she
writhed and heaved beneath him, her virginity long gone
and her baser instincts now paramount. She felt her
first climax mounting in her belly and encouraged her
lover to more effort, grinding them together, wishing
he were both bigger and stronger, more like the man who
had first slept with, the man she intended to marry if
he survived this foul war. Rebecca had known men for
some time and expected pleasure not pain. She bucked
and smacked the man's butt urged him to greater effort,
to deeper penetration, increased speed. They both were
sweating freely.
In the next room, young Misteria was bent over the
colonel's aide, who had both hands buried in her hair,
and sucking his spent cock while a lean lieutenant was
taking her from behind, his hands clamped to her hips
as he drove himself upward and inward again and again,
sobbing with pleasure. To the girl, it was a dream, a
nightmare, unreal. Virginal blood and thick semen
flowed down the inside of her thighs, and the room
resounded from her slurping efforts and the smack of
bare skin. Then she felt something warm explode within
her as the battering continued.
In the parlor Rusty couldn't believe what was happening
to her as the filthy man with the cigar in his mouth
reared above her and rammed his long, hard member in
and out of her battered body again and again. He was
grunting and sweating, twisting her tiny nipples and
snorting for breath, and then he ejaculated in her,
spewing out his come deep inside her for the second
time, pulling free and then spurting again on her belly
with a cry of relief.
The colonel stood, strode to the sideboard and poured
himself a few inches of brandy. He drank it off,
looking at the redheaded girl sprawled half off the
settee, his thick juices flowing down the inside of her
rounded thighs, as young a cunt as he enjoyed on this
campaign, and he had fucked a good number of girls and
southern matrons.
His glass in one hand, he pulled her back to a sitting
position by yanking her hair and then forced her down
to take his sticky penis in her soft mouth. "Suck, you
bitch," he commanded, finishing his drink and tossing
his glass aside. He held the girl's head with both
hands and fucked her mouth as he hardened, enjoying the
feel of her active tongue and moving her up and down on
his thick shaft, feeling her teeth rake him.
Rusty gagged and choked and sucked and then the foul
man pulled her to the floor, turned her to face the
sofa and knelt behind her, slapped her ass and rammed
his prick back into her, lifting her knees from the
floor. She screamed, sure he had ripped her body apart
and feeling an almost electric tremor run through her.
He smiled and grunted, ramming repeatedly, smacking her
butt in time with his pleasurable penetrations, lifting
the little sofa off its front legs.
Upstairs, the colonel's stepson and aide was now
mounted atop Rebecca, and the captain was watching the
lieutenant find his enjoyment in young Misteria who he
had up on her head and shoulders as he pounded downward
into her rapidly until he came and let her fall to the
blood-stained sheets. The captain then took his turn on
the young girl, splaying out her legs painfully before
rolling her to her side and entering her from behind.
He grunted with pleasure and kneaded her young breasts
as she gasped in pain.
When he had satisfied himself on the writhing redhead
and after forcing the girl to lick him clean, the
colonel tossed her over his shoulder and took her up
the stairs. He dumped the girl on the big bed where
young Misteria lay moaning and sobbing, both hands
between her legs. While the men shared a bottle and
enjoyed the show, they forced the girls to lick and
suck each other's cunny until they had recovered their
strength.
Some time later Jane Harris stumbled back toward her
home as the sun was sinking and the sky turning red and
purple. She was wearing her torn and stained shift and
her feet were bare. Seven big men had used her frail
body, used it violently and viciously, often two at the
same time, forcing her to do things she had never
thought of doing. Jane opened the kitchen cabinet and
fumbled on the top shelf until she found the pistol her
husband had given her on his last leave.
She took the heavy thing down, unwrapped it and pulled
back the hammer with both hands. It was a heavy LeMat
and her husband said he had taken it from a dead
Alabama cavalryman. He had showed her how it worked and
made her fire a couple of rounds before reloading the
weapon and placing it on the high shelf wrapped in an
oiled cloth.
Jane flicked down the small lever on the hammer as she
mounted the stairs and just as she reached the landing
the captain's aide and his friend, the young
lieutenant, appeared, arm in arm, wearing satisfied
smiles. She raised her weapon with both hands and as
the muzzle came to the aide's belt buckle, pulled the
trigger discharging the 16-gauge load of heavy
buckshot. The two men at the top of the stairs were
torn to shreds in a spray of blood, cloth and hair and
tossed back to the wall, writhing and kicking, one
blinded with his throat torn open and the other
squealing, most his face gone.
Jane stepped over the lieutenant's outstretched leg,
flicked up the lever on the heavy pistol and opened the
first bedroom door to find the Federal captain, now
wearing just his shirt, pulling his rigid prick out of
her redheaded sister who lay sprawled under him, big
eyed, mouth gaping. Her first shot struck his
outstretched arm, her second hit his ribs just below
his heart and corkscrewed down into his guts and the
third crushed his lower jaw, scattering bone and teeth.
Rusty rolled off the other side of the bed, gasping for
breath, eyes terror filled as her sister left the room
and the man on the bed clawed at the sheets, blood
pouring from his mouth. She took the water pitcher from
the stand and battered the man's head until he was
still and the pitcher in fragments.
The colonel then appeared at the end of the hallway,
naked, his sword in his hand, his cock full and hard.
He had been busily sodomizing Rebecca, enjoying her
pleas for mercy. He raised his blade and Jane fired,
closed her eyes, extended the heavy pistol with both
hands and fired again and again until the weapon was
empty. Four of her five .40 caliber shots hit the
colonel, two in his torso, one in his thigh and another
shattering a hand. He fell on his side, crying out
wordlessly.
Jane dropped her empty weapon and walked down the hall,
picked up the fallen officer's heavy sword and smiled
down at him. "Hope you enjoyed yourself, you coward,"
she said as she swung at his face, opened his cheek and
taking off half his nose and his left eye. The man
screamed and rolled to his back, and Jane hacked at his
groin until Rebecca came and restrained her. By then
both women were spattered with his blood.
"We must run, flee," the young woman said. "Get some
clothes on. I'll help the other two."
Within minutes the four women were out the back door
and trotting through the empty slave quarters while
behind them the sergeant was finding that all his
officers were dead or dying. He raised the hue and cry,
but by then it was dusk and no one wanted to go out
exploring in the dark.
The soldiers found the whisky supply and the wine
cabinet, shared their treasure and set fire to the
house, saving themselves the trouble of burying their
dead. The fact that three of the four officers were
badly wounded but not dead did not seem to bother them.
Their screams merged with the fire's roar.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 58