He looked down at the girl.
She had large, brown appealing eyes and a nice trim figure, but did that really matter considering the circumstances? Wasn't he happy to take any woman, young or old, large or small? Anything to relieve the tension, try to lighten his fear. He knew he would never get rid of that fear. The most he could hope for was to push it into the background.
This girl could do it; at any rate, for a few minutes. His unit had swept through the village and were checking the simply-built, one level house. He wouldn't be missed for a few minutes. He should strip her, force open her legs and enter her; swiftly, brutally with no thought or feeling or compassion. After all, this was war. All's fair in love and war. Except there was no love, but there certainly was war; a living, never-ending hell.
He should take her. This could be his last chance. He could step out of the door and be cut down by a bullet with his name on it. Or blown into smithereens by a mine or bomb.
She had such appealing eyes. Appealing. As in pleading. Begging to be spared.
He wanted her. His erection was pushing against his trousers. He needed a release. She could give it to him. That was her whole purpose in life, wasn't it? To provide sexual solace for a man about to die. But he knew he was wrong. Even as he had the thought he knew that there was more to this girl than that. She wouldn't be a comfort girl; she would be a victim of rape.
He looked down at the girl.
He had half a mind to walk away from her, but this was no time for any of that humanitarian bullshit. She was his to do with as he wanted; and he knew what he wanted.
Pointing his gun at her head he began to unfasten his trousers using his free hand. She lay on the ground staring up at him, the light of hope leaving her eyes until they became dull and dead. She knew what her fate would be. He dropped his trousers and pulled down his underwear, wriggling out of them without taking his eyes off the girl. His penis stood out from his body, proud and stiff. Boy, this slut was going to get the best fuck of her life.
She was wearing a simple dress and there were no fastenings visible. Not to worry. There was a large pair of sewing scissors on a table. He picked them up and bent over the girl. She pulled back in terror.
"Stay still, girl!" he growled.
She wouldn't understand the words, but might get the idea as he pulled the dress between the blades of the scissors and slowly cut all the way up. The dress fell open. Beneath was a plain shift and no sign of a bra. He could see her breasts straining against the thin material. Repeating the action with the scissors the shift went the way of the dress; it was like peeling a banana.
He chuckled at the thought. "Haven't had one of them for a while."
Nor had he been given the opportunity to fuck a woman; not until now. She wore panties, plain like the shift. He cut them open and her full nakedness was revealed. Pert breasts with dark areola surrounding little pink buds, and a trim dark bush matching her hair. She was young - nineteen or twenty, he thought - and ripe for plucking.
There was no time for finesse. He was ready - the stiff cock bore witness to that - and she had better be bloody ready or else it would hurt. But he didn't care. It was up to her to get the juices flowing and make his passage easier. He pushed her legs apart, roughly rubbed her labia a few times in a pretence of arousing her, and then plunged in.
She was too dry. She cried out; almost a scream, really, but he took no notice and continued pushing in. His hands were locked onto her breasts and she had to combat the pain from his grip as well as that engendered by his hard cock brutally penetrating her vagina. She raked his face with her finger nails and he pulled back.
"Damn you, that hurt!" he cried.
He slapped her face on each cheek using his forehand first, then the backhand. She screamed again and began to squirm beneath him, trying to pull away, but he was holding her too tightly. She was also impaled. It was a brief and useless struggle which she soon abandoned.
"That's better. Lie back and enjoy it. That's the usual line, isn't it?"
He continued to thrust and push, jamming his whole length into her vagina. The girl lay still offering neither resistance nor help. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling and her face was blank of emotion, except for a little frown that appeared every time he jabbed into her. Her pussy was devoid of lubrication and the soldier felt his cock chafing against her dry labia.
"Come on, baby," he growled. "Loosen up. God, you've got a tight cunt. Not many visitors in here, eh?"
He grunted with the effort of slamming into her. His balls hit against her crotch as he rhythmically drove in and out. Slap - slap - slap. He was picking up speed. The girl beneath him clutched his arms tightly in an effort to steady her body. She began to emit little cries of pain as he ruthlessly tore into her delicate vagina.
"I hate this fucking war!" he snarled. "I hate this fucking country! I hate the fucking people!"
He was taking all his hate out on this one helpless girl. Her cries were becoming louder, but he took no notice. He didn't care how much she was suffering. Forward - back; forward - back. There was little sign of enjoyment on his face, which was screwed up with anger. The pleasure was all in hurting her.
He stopped his pummelling long enough to shift his position, grab her ankles and haul her ass up until she was resting on her shoulders. He held her legs wide exposing her cunt as far as possible. The labia were reddened and puffy. He looked at his stiff cock as it disappeared inside her. She squealed like a stuffed pig as he drove in. The soldier smiled grimly at the image.
