Cuban Capture
by Carlos Juarez 


FOREWORD 

When Castro started his drive for power in Cuba, the war that started was a 
bitter one fought in back alleys and dungeons and the birth place of sadists 
who rivaled any that Hitler could scrape up in the name of national glory. 

Batista's name ranks with the war criminals of the Nazi prison camps when it 
comes to the perversion of his private army. Degradation and brutality and 
sexual terror set the tone of this book, a reflection of the forces 
unleashed by petty tyrants who see in people merely instruments for their 
own gratification. 

THE PUBLISHER 


CHAPTER ONE 

At ten-thirty at night, the April air clinging around the broken-down hotel 
was as hot and muggy as it had been at sunset. Even the sea breeze off the 
Havana waterfront couldn't stir the swampy thickness of incipient mildew 
that clung around the three girls. 

Linda Martin had never been more than thirty miles from Akron, and the 
tumblers of fierce white rum she sipped had barely taken the edge off her 
tourist excitement. Linda was tall, nearly five-eight, and her wavy red hair 
rippled like a live carpet from her head to the middle of her back. Her wide 
green eyes were separated by an upturned, slightly freckled nose. The eager, 
thirsty look of those un worried .eyes was the only thing that could 
possibly take attention from the luscious sensuality of her red-painted lips 
or the high, proud breasts that forced the front of her mint-green nightgown 
up and forward. "We better put Maxine to bed," she said to Judy Hawkins, 
indicating the sharp-faced blonde's slumped body with her chin. Linda missed 
the surly, rum-soaked glare Maxine shot back. 

Judy was a brunette, with short-cut hair and an on-guard look to her 
features. The few times she let herself relax, Judy was very pretty in spite 
of the cutoff sweatshirts and baggy corduroy trousers she wore at Akron 
Junior College. "Yes, Maxie's through for the night," Judy agreed. The 
striped cotton pajamas she wore couldn't conceal the lithe, ballerina-like 
grace of her motions, or the self-assured way she tugged the small blonde 
off the blotched rug. 

Linda blushed, adjusting the falling strap of her nightgown and felt her 
boob bounce. "I don't see how you stand those jammies in this heat," she 
said, flapping the hem of her nightie. "You can't get any air circulation!" 

Judy had a wry smile on her thin lips when they dropped Maxine in the bed. 
Maxine's nightgown was up over her hips, her puffy crotch filling her 
panties. The icy chill of Maxine's last unfocused glare held Linda 
stock-still until she staggered back against the edge of the other bed. 
Linda's innate Ohio modesty made her want to cover the blonde's half-exposed 
body, but she was paralyzed by the anger she'd seen in Maxine's face. The 
sultry young redhead blinked two or three times, then sat on the other bed. 
"Wooo," she muttered. "Maybe I should have stopped drinking sooner!" Linda 
put on the giddy, goofy smile that had helped win the cheerleader election 
back home. 

Judy didn't buy it. She grabbed the half-full glasses off the table and sat 
next to Linda. She waited for the redhead to take another sip of the rum, 
then dropped a bombshell that shattered what was left of Linda's half-drunk 
composure. "I'm not going back to Ohio, Linda. I'm staying in Cuba." She 
waited while the words sank in, then went on. 

"I'm going to join the Revolution." Judy's voice lowered to a conspiratorial 
half-whisper. "I brought money with me ... thousands of dollars for food and 
guns and medicine for Castro's army. I'm meeting a contact tomorrow ... 
April ninth, at noon." 

Everything from those words on was a blur to Linda. The girl remembered 
agreeing to distract Maxine while Judy disappeared, and the hurried, quiet 
way Judy had stripped off her pajamas to show Linda how her body had 
hardened for the hot, hidden marches through mountain and swamp where the 
guerillas ran. The words were lost, dissolved in rum, but a snapshot of 
Judy's dry-skinned, lean body stayed in her mind. It was etched there 
permanently, from the brown-tipped cones of Judy's breasts, across the firm, 
taut skin of her belly and down to the light padding of feminine fat over 
long, lissome dancer's legs. In response to Judy's urgency, Linda had rolled 
to the center of the mattress, her pulse racing. She knew she was old enough 
that Judy's nudity shouldn't shock her, but the quick display struck a 
disturbing chord in Linda's own body. 

Then, Linda remembered, Judy had rolled onto the mattress beside her. They 
had stared at each other, swimming in the bittersweet murk of too much rum. 
Their hands touched, and strange tingles ran along Linda's arms, then down 
to the center of her belly. 

The feelings weren't completely new ... Linda had stifled a similar tingle 
when a date had tried worming his hands under her skirt. There was no threat 
this time, though, and the smooth, soft touches of Judy's hands were in tune 
with Linda's own feelings, like a harpstring picking up the clear hum of a 
tuning fork. The stifling heat and the rum and the slow, measured rotation 
of the lazy fan above them made it all seem dreamy, like swimming 
underwater. Linda let Judy slide the long green nightgown up to her hips, 
her waist, then lifted her shoulders and stretched her arms out as the 
garment flowed over her head. She made a helpless, beckoning motion with her 
hands, inviting Judy to hold her, but the brown-haired Lesbian was 
fascinated by the curves and textures of Linda's body. 

And Linda accepted it. The glistening look of erotic admiration in Judy's 
eyes made Linda feel truly proud of her body for the first time in her life. 
A vague hint of inhibition tried to surface in Linda's mind, but the rum and 
her awakening body silenced it. 

Judy reached slowly with her fingertips, and the long pads of her fingers 
traced a curving line along the outer swell of Linda's pale breasts. The 
pink cast of the sheltered redhead's skin paled slightly under the feathery 
touch, then colored again. Judy's fingernail scratched at the rim of Linda's 
coral aureole, and the surface of the circle crinkled and darkened. 

The points of Linda's breasts were over an inch long, blunt-tipped and 
rubbery. Blood pulsed to them until the lush nipples looked lipsticked 
against the translucent skin of her bosom. Even the random dusting of tiny 
freckles on the tops of the mounds stood out more against the translucent 
blue of the tiny veins that meandered toward Linda's delectable nipples. 
Linda felt a glow of pride when Judy's lips opened slightly and the 
brunette's tongue moved sideways against the lingual surface of her even 
white teeth. Linda blushed. 

The hot pinkish tint spread from her ears and cheekbones to her long, lovely 
throat, then down as far as the upthrust tips of her forty-inch breasts. 
Judy touched the tips of Linda's nipples. 

Linda's expression was asking for something. She felt the hunger all through 
her, but she wouldn't allow herself to know what it was. Her hips whispered, 
moving from side to side on the shabby bedspread. She watched Judy's eyes 
moving on her skin, and the center of her loins warmed. Tentatively, afraid 
of a word, or even a glance, she touched Judy's upper arm. 

Judy didn't stop her lascivious survey of the tall redhead's luscious body. 
Her fingers trailed from the peaks of Linda's magnificent breasts and 
followed the high-arched line of her ribs. She ran a fingernail along the 
vulnerable hollow of Linda's solar plexus, then into the wide, shallow cup 
of her navel. Linda's stomach curved softly to a trim line just above the 
lovely indentation, then rose in an enticing curve. At the outsides of the 
fine downcurve, her hipbones were padded with a thin cushion of feminine 
flesh. The curve beside each horn of her pelvis was wide as a cradle. It 
tapered down into insanely long, full thighs. Judy knelt astride Linda's 
narrow waist and stared lovingly into the very center of Linda's exquisite 
femininity. 

A light, musky odor, like expensive perfume, had begun to rise from the ripe 
swell of Linda's lovemound. The coppery hair was two shades darker than the 
curls on her head, and it grew thinly enough that the crevice between her 
virginal pussylips showed through. A maze of bluish veins ran just beneath 
the surface of the tender skin, veins that swelled the outer labia into 
puffy readiness as Judy watched. A glistening strip of moister, softer flesh 
began to peek through at the center. 

The tight, virginal shape of Linda's pussy invited the cupping pressure of a 
hand or the slow, lascivious caress of a slithering tongue. Tiny beads of 
pussycream clung to the bases of the red hairs, gleaming like tiny diamonds. 
Judy's breath stirred the hairs, and Linda involuntarily rolled her hips 
upward. 

The rising power of the sensations in her body disturbed Linda. She'd never 
had to cope with feelings like the ones that emanated from her loins right 
now. There was a hungry, hollow throbbing in Linda's belly, like a far-off 
bass drum beating in time to her heart. Her nipples hurt in a strangely 
pleasant way. The whole mound of each titty ached for some pressure, some 
new touch that she'd not needed before. Linda reached up like a drowning 
swimmer and touched Judy. The brunette turned around and each girl gathered 
the other close. 

Even in the muggy heat of the hotel room, the touch of skin on her own 
sweating flesh was welcome. The strange heat in her loins flared higher. 
Judy kissed her, both sets of lips opening slowly and lasciviously. 

Linda's tongue found its way into Judy's mouth. Linda's body reacted with a 
lewd urgency that surprised her. Linda hesitated for a moment, then threw 
herself into the shared contact. 

She ran her hands along Judy's back, running her palms from Judy's shoulders 
to the hot, round firmness of the brunette's asscheeks. Linda heard a moan, 
but the clinging wetness of the two girls' mouths hid the source. She didn't 
know if it was her voice or Judy's. 

Judy's hands began moving again, gliding silkily along the outer swell of 
Linda's bosom, pressing the aching mounds up against Judy's own tits. 
Linda's nipples bored into the dry warmth of Judy's skin. Judy's 
titty-points pressed lascivious sensation into Linda's large, lewdly aching 
breasts. 

A warm, slightly scratchy sensation near the base of Linda's belly turned 
moist. It was as warm and soft and erogenous as the feelings in her own 
pussy. Linda rocked her hips upward and tautened her belly against the 
rubbing, sliding pressure of Judy's vulva. Linda opened her thighs and a 
long, slender leg pressed against her lovemound. 

Linda was amazed at the erotic sensitivity of her flesh. Without the 
grabbing, hurried creep of a boy's fingers there, her labia seemed to 
blossom open. Judy's thigh didn't threaten to invade her secret channel, or 
grab and twist at the curly hairs. It merely pressed easily to and fro on 
her labia, spreading the slow-oozing cream from her vagina to the stiffening 
tension of her clitty. Linda tightened her hands on Judy's springy ass. 

"Ummm-hmmm," Judy moaned, twisting her lips against Linda's mouth. She 
tugged at Linda's shoulders and the two women rolled onto their sides. Both 
pairs of legs opened, inviting the kneading pressure of a female thigh 
against the steamy warmth of exposed labia. 

Linda moved her hand slowly up toward Judy's breast. She cupped the joyously 
hard mound. A forbidden excitement grew, like the rising flicker of flames 
in a fresh-lit fireplace. Mild as it was, it was Linda's first taste of 
active sexual participation. She felt her body flowing against Judy's like 
the taste of liqueurs coating her palate in some smoky club. She felt the 
need and urgency of another person's hungers, and she wasn't afraid. Linda 
melted against Judy, every nerve on the surface of her skin finding a fresh, 
delicious way to feel femaleness. 

Linda lost track of the places her hands caressed and squeezed, molded and 
kneaded. The rising roar of her pulse in her ears orchestrated the chords of 
musical sensation four hands drew from two ecstatic bodies. 

Linda looked at Judy's smiling face, at the lips that were glossy and wet 
with hunger, at the eyes that were closing with sheer pleasure, and nodded 
at the question that hung in the air between them. 

Linda marveled at the firm, sweet-Burfaced sway of Judy's breasts in her 
hands. She caressed the whole luscious shape of each conical titty, and then 
ran her thumbs across the rubbery nipples. Linda felt a pure, child-like joy 
when the tips sprang back into place, all but begging for another touch. 

Judy's lips began to creep down Linda's body. A thrill of shame flashed in 
Linda's mind, then disappeared under a flood of heat when Judy's gluey-soft 
lips touched her breast. Lips gripped the tip of Linda's nipple lightly, 
pulling out and away. The coral point slipped out of her mouth, setting 
concentric rings of rippling sensation in motion. The lusty feeling went all 
through the jelly-like mound of her titty and set waves running up and down 
her spine. 

That feeling of sin, that half-remembered prohibition, grew stronger, but 
the luscious beauty of Judy's lips on her nipple overwhelmed it. Linda 
arched her back, offering her bosom to her friend. She felt the lasciviously 
erogenous slide of a tonguetip across the semicircle of aureole beneath each 
nipple. Linda moaned. 

She gripped Judy's breasts harder, relishing the contrast of lean firm flesh 
under the satiny smoothness of Judy's skin. The nuggety brown points of 
Judy's nipples pressed against Linda's palms in the same lewd, hungry way 
Linda's nipples offered themselves to Judy's mouth. 

Linda loved the way those enticing lips covered the whole sensuous ring of 
each aureole in turn, then glided back to tug at the tips again. Linda 
sighed, and her fingers pressed deeper into the lewd springiness of Judy's 
tits. 

An oily warmth flowed from Linda's vagina, a bubbling stream of luscious 
juice that heated the whole trough of her loins. Linda pushed the 
mysteriously swampy center of her pussy up at Judy, and her thigh touched 
Judy's pussymound. 

The lewd heat in her breast had a strange, erotic connection with the 
crinkly moistness of the other girl's cuntal zone. Linda rubbed her full, 
fair-skinned thigh against the puffy warmth of Judy's pussy, and a slick, 
oily fluid coated her skin. It was a magical liniment that oozed soft warmth 
into her muscles. Linda slid her hands down the wide curve of Judy's hips 
and marveled at the youthful firmness of her ass cheeks. Linda pulled Judy 
to her, revelling in the flow of cream on her thigh and the grinding, 
rolling motions of Judy's leg on her own pussy. "Ohhh, Judy," she moaned, 
pressing her breasts at the brunette's face and tugging at her hips. "Ohh, 
god!" 

"Yes, Linda, yes!" Judy sighed. She gave the tip of each nipple a last 
flashing lap of her tongue, then -edged her thigh from between Linda's legs. 
She rolled Linda onto her back and turned around, straddling the red-haired 
girl's head. 

Linda looked down and saw Judy's breast hanging enchantingly over her own 
belly. She opened her mouth unconsciously, licking toward the dark-brown 
tips of Judy's nipples. Linda raised her knees automatically when Judy's 
hands circled under her thighs. She opened her legs wider, responding to the 
light touch of Judy's fingertips at the tops of her thighs, then realized 
what Judy was about to do. 

"Noooo! Judy...." Linda begged. Her knees moved together, trapping the 
brunette's head between her thighs. "It's ... I'm.... No, please!" 

"It's all right, Linda," Judy whispered. "Ooooh, you're so lovely ... I have 
to!" She tugged free of Linda's loosening thighs and looked between their 
bellies at Linda's face. "Please, honey, you'll like it!" she begged. 

Linda looked down through the high, wide canyon of her own cleavage, past 
the down-hanging delights of Judy's breasts. She couldn't stand to see the 
pleading look in Judy's eyes. Linda shifted her gaze, looking up. 

There above her was a brown-furred nest that stuck in her mind like a 
photograph. The rich, wide, aromatic center of Judy's gaped-open pussy 
looked impossibly moist and inviting. The scent of Judy's arousal filtered 
into Linda's nostrils and stopped any protest she could still have made. 
Linda felt soft fingers work along the sides of her labia, and she let her 
thighs relax. A thin, soft stream of air caressed and cooled the center of 
her pussy, and Linda moaned. 

Linda couldn't stop the silky slide of her hips on the bedspread. She stared 
up at the moist red center of Judy's pussy. That's what I look like, with 
the little fold at the top and those tiny inside lips right next to a little 
oval hole. My god, I can feel that same blush down there, the redder part 
that goes all the way to my back hole and out to my thighs! 

The darkened edges of Judy's pussylips moved, opening and closing. The 
orchid-like mouth of her vagina slowly tensed and relaxed, showing the 
glowing pink of the inner folds. Red heat ran from the triangular hood of 
the brunette's clitty to the front edge of her rectum. The whole area was 
slick, glistening with the clear fluid of her arousal. Linda drooled as she 
looked up at the easy contractions and openings of the delicate pussymouth. 

Like a hypnotized dreamer, Linda raised her hands. She slid her palms along 
Judy's trim waist and along the skin. Her hands reached the outside of 
Judy's supple buttocks. She stopped the slight, slow motions of Judy's hips 
long enough to study the enticing red of her pussy center and the 
surrounding nest of wet brown hair. Linda gulped. 

A warm, wet touch on her own labia made Linda shut her eyes. The warmth, the 
texture, the incredible slipperiness told Linda that it had to be Judy's 
tongue. Her sphincters tightened with a chill that flashed the whole length 
of her spine. The lascivious slither went up the outer edge of one pussylip, 
then down the inside of her other thigh. The curly coarseness of her red 
pussyhairs pressed into the sensuous surface of her inner labia. Linda 
gripped Judy's asscheeks tighter. 

The next gliding slither of tongueflesh went right down the tight crevice at 
the center of her lovemound. A ripple of tension traveled straight to 
Linda's brain. As the tongue passed, Linda felt her thighs opening wider, 
offering her secret center openly to lascivious motions of Judy's mouth. The 
sticky slices of her inner labia parted, and a second stream of exhaled air 
ran along the middle of the moist tissues. Linda moaned again, louder. 

Judy kissed along the top of Linda's lovemound, and the redhead swiveled her 
hips. The sensation was like nothing she'd ever known. The easy, 
half-teasing motions of Judy's tongue tantalized her, making her anticipate 
the next touch. Judy waited just a fraction longer than Linda had thought 
she would, and the next slithering lick took her pussy by surprise. 

The sliding rhythm of Judy's tongue accelerated, but never quite enough. The 
brunette's mouth stayed a tempting step behind the pace of Linda's arousal. 
Soon, Linda felt long, loving, almost constant strokes running up and down 
the center of her pussy. The moves alternated at random, toying with the 
rise of lewd heat in the redhead's cunt zone. The coppery hairs parted, and 
the crevice was ready. 

Judy stopped licking. Linda thought she would die. Her hips rose and fell, 
moving in a sensuous figure-eight. She whimpered. 

"Kiss me ... kiss my pussy, too," Judy said. Her voice was a passionate 
growl. She lowered her hips, bringing the dripping center of her nest almost 
to the tip of Linda's nose, and moved lustily back and forth. 

Linda closed her eyes. Delicately, half-afraid of what might happen, she 
extended her tongue. The redhead raised her face and felt the marvelous wet 
warmth of Judy's pussyfolds against her lips. A tentative dab at the spot 
where she remembered Judy's vagina was coated her mouth with a marvelous 
fluid that soaked into the tissues of her palate. She swallowed, then kissed 
the sleek wet center of Judy's pussy again. 

The tongue and lips in her own pussy began to move once more. Linda's hands 
tightened on Judy's ass, dragging the brunette down against her face. In the 
space of a single heartbeat, Linda thrust her hips up, grinding her cunt 
against Judy's face, and began slurping hungrily at the brunette's pussy. 

The slow, lascivious rise of feelings exploded like a thunderclap. One 
second, Linda was gently offering her body, shyly kissing at Judy's loins. 
The next instant, her tongue writhed like a squirming eel in and around the 
brunette's cunt. She gathered curly hairs into her mouth, swallowed spit and 
cuntcream, and ground her crotch against Judy's face. 

Linda became a tiger. A fist-size knot of feelings in her belly hardened and 
grew. She moaned, the fleshy muff of cuntflesh on her lips stifling the 
sound. She twisted, rubbing her belly on Judy's tits. Linda bucked and 
bumped her pubic bone against Judy's chin. 

The hot spike of her clitty shot sparks. Linda found the pearl-hard nubbin 
at the top of Judy's cuntslit and sucked it. She pulled it into her mouth. 
Her tongue flashed back and forth, whipping frenzy into both women's 
motions. 

The flailing heat on her own clit grew. Linda felt flames in her nerves. Her 
hips churned. Her tongue whipped back and forth. She thrust into Judy's 
cunthole, then sucked at her clit. The slick juice flooded her face. Linda 
wanted to jam her head into Judy's pussy. She strained her legs wider, 
offering her cunt to Judy's face. 

The creaking springs of the bed protested under the accelerating motions of 
the two drunken women. The fumes of booze and sweat and cuntjuice filled the 
room. The cream squishing from both cunts sloshed loud. Gasping breaths and 
groans of pleasure echoed off the peeling wallpaper. 

That knot of feeling in Linda's belly tightened, then exploded. Something 
unknown, but incredibly erotic pounced from her clit to her brain. Linda 
sucked and licked and bucked under Judy. Judy ground down against Linda's 
cunt, Linda's face, Linda's tits. They rolled onto their sides. 

Twisting, writhing, gasping for air, they started to come. Judy's slim 
fingers dug deep into Linda's ass. The ancient bedspread wrinkled, then 
ripped. Both bodies ground wetly together. The groans, the gasps, the sweaty 
slapping of tits on bellies sounded like a battle to the death. Linda's long 
red hair tangled around Judy's legs. Judy's short brown hair rumpled against 
the tensing surfaces of Linda's thighs. 

Linda was lost, drowning in sensation. The musky taste of cunt juice filled 
her mouth. The awesome force of her cuntal contractions bludgeoned her 
nerves. Nothing mattered but the cunt in her mouth and the mouth on her 
cunt. 

It went on and on, reaching higher peaks with each gnawing suck against her 
cuntlips. Judy's mouth assaulted Linda's snatch. Linda ground her cunt 
fiercely against Judy's face. Sweat greased them both. Their tits were as 
wet as their cunts. Their asses gleamed in the light from the dingy yellow 
bulb. The slippery sheen of their sweat emphasized every lusty motion of 
their bodies. 

Linda lost herself. She was all cunt, sucking hungrily to drag the entire 
world into her hole. Like a snake swallowing its tail, she shoved against 
Judy's twat and felt Judy's face grind into her crotch. The clasp of 
cuntflesh on her tongue reinforced the shocking strength of her own orgasm. 
Linda fought harder to come, fought harder to force ecstasy into Judy's 
pussy. Every part of her gathered tight before one last pulse. It held, 
waiting like a boulder on the edge of a cliff. She felt the waiting in Judy, 
the holding off, the knowledge that they would both die in the next wave of 
orgasmic feeling. Muscles were tight. Everything froze, then.... 

Linda let herself go spinning away, riding huge crests of feeling. A part of 
her mind couldn't believe the power of her awakened pussy. Her limbs 
slacked, and Linda rolled away from Judy's spasming body into a pit of 
unconsciousness. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Linda tried to contain her turmoil all during the morning of the ninth. 
Those cascades of feeling that had overwhelmed her the night before couldn't 
possibly be anything but sin, could they? She was jumpy and jittery during 
breakfast, during the stroll she and Maxine and Judy took through the 
plazas, even during lunch. 

She was a long way from Akron, and a long way from the way she'd been 
brought up. That curly-haired nest between her thighs was private, secret, 
not to be touched except by anyone besides the husband she would someday 
have. 

But it had felt so good, and Judy obviously wasn't worried about the sin-if 
there'd been one. Maxine had become even surlier, but Linda couldn't tell if 
it was from the blonde's obvious hangover, or if, somehow, she'd dragged 
herself from rummy unconsciousness to see what Linda and Judy had done. 
Before Maxine had awakened, Judy and Linda were both dressed for breakfast, 
so it couldn't have been the way the two taller women slept, arms and legs 
wrapped around each other. 

Judy smiled and winked secretively at Linda and tried to cheer Maxine while 
they meandered through downtown Havana. She made whispered remarks at the 
police who drove around in jeeps with machine-guns mounted on the back, and 
at the sweating shopkeepers. They finished an early lunch and wound back 
toward the hotel. The streets were clearing. Even the growling jeeps and 
armored carriers of the national police slowed down, then disappeared. 

Right in front of the hotel was a square with three wide trees and half a 
dozen wrought-iron tables. Linda watched a shopkeeper roll down the wicker 
blinds over his windows. Across the plaza, a taxi-driver turned off his 
motor. It was two minutes of twelve. 

Linda still didn't believe that Judy would go through with it. The leggy 
brunette smiled brightly, and said, a bit too loud, "Oh, Maxine, I just 
remembered! I have to re-register us at the hotel. Why don't you and Linda 
get us a couple of those straw handbags to take back next week?" She pointed 
to the shop that was closing for siesta. "Oh, and your mother wanted 
castanets!" 

Linda's throat tightened as Judy waved. She tugged Maxine's arm, leading the 
blonde toward the little shop across the plaza. "Come on, Max," she said 
huskily. Her eyes stung. 

She's going ... going now, Linda thought. She ignored the abrupt tug that 
snatched Maxine's wrist out of her hand. Judy's really, actually doing it! 
Linda turned away and hurried ahead of Maxine to the dark interior of the 
shop. 

Behind her, a motor started. Something was wrong! Just as Maxine followed 
her into the shop, Linda realized what it was. It wasn't the taxi! The 
pebbly banging of a heavy diesel roared louder. 

Linda spun around. The shopkeeper grabbed her arm and threw her to the 
floor. A flashing glimpse of the taxi-driver pulling a pistol from his shirt 
stopped Linda for an instant. 

Judy ran across the square. A clattering, rust-smeared tank roared into the 
plaza. The taxidriver dodged behind his cab, and the tank's machine guns 
opened up. 

Dust flew. Chips of stone from the cobbles and powdered plaster from the 
fronts of the buildings filled the air. The dreadful hammering of the heavy 
machine guns went silent as the turret cannon belched. With a huge 
"BAA-RUMMPHH!" the taxicab caved in. The machine guns rattled again, dimmer 
in the echoes of the gun. 

Rifle shots mingled with the chaotic screams and shouts of dead and dying 
Cubans. Pieces of taxicab rained down, smashing wrought-iron tables, tearing 
limbs from trees. 

Someone beat on Linda's head. She rolled over, kicking and yelling. The 
image of Judy, a third eyehole in the middle of her forehead, blinded her in 
the dark of the curio shop. Linda didn't recognize Maxine until the soldiers 
pulled them apart. The general strike against Batista's government had 
begun. 

Linda Martin had no idea of where she was. The twists and turns the truck 
had taken had lost her completely. Barricades in the streets were on fire. 
Gunshots and ricochets rattled and whined around them, sometimes ringing the 
side of the closed truck like a huge, mismade bell. 

The handcuffs cut into her wrists. Linda tried to think, tried to reason her 
way out of the nightmare, but all she could think of was Judy's twitching 
body on the cobblestones of the plaza. "Why, Maxie, why?" she sobbed. 

The soldier in the back of the paddy wagon never answered. He sat with his 
rifle across his knees, watching the half-dozen prisoners as if he didn't 
care one way or the other about shooting them. All but one of the Cubans sat 
as stolidly as the guard, waiting for the journey to end at the prison 
barracks. The exception, an old, sweating mulatto man, lolled his head back 
against the steel side of the truck and chuckled every time he looked at 
Linda. "Ay, guapa," he half-whispered. "Ay, ay, pobrecita guapa!" 

Linda didn't care that she was a poor little cutie, or even know what he was 
calling her. She only knew her friend was dead, and that Maxine had shouted 
hysterical Spanish at the police before they led her away. Oh, poor Judy, 
she thought, poor, pretty Judy! 

Nightmares never end as easily as Linda would have liked. The thick stone 
walls of the Moncada barracks were clammy, dank inside, even though the 
afternoon was half over. It was no place to be stripped naked by leering 
guards, and no place to be stood against a wall while soldiers and their 
prisoners marched past. Linda, her hands cuffed behind her, her legs 
chained, tried to shrink through the massive stone blocks of the wall, but 
the slimy-cold touch of the clammy blocks made her flesh creep. The 
statuesque redhead didn't know which was worse, the moldy nastiness of the 
hewn boulders or the lewd sniggers of the soldiers. 

It took her hours to decide that this couldn't be an ordinary day at 
Moncada. The fat, greasy-eyed corporal who'd ordered Linda's original captor 
to leave her in the entryway had scarcely had time to leer at her since she 
was brought in. Soldiers borught in blocks of prisoners, some bleeding from 
the wounds of bayonets, bullets, or cobblestones, some dragging unconscious 
comrades. It seemed as if half the population of Havana was rounding up the 
other half for instigating the battle that had started at noon. 

And there Linda stood, her long red hair hanging loose. She'd tried to shake 
strands around to cover her breasts, but the rich pink of her nipples poked 
through. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to hide her cuntal 
vee with one tight-presseed thigh, but that only accented the tapering 
slimness of her legs and the outrageously lewd shape of her hips. 

She couldn't even tell if the street fighting had subsided. The heavy steps 
of the soldiers' boots and the slamming of metal doors drowned out any sound 
that could have filtered through the stone walls. Moncada barracks is on the 
outskirts of Havana, and the strike was confined mostly to the middle of the 
city, where the Twenty-Sixth of July Movement and its allies were being 
crushed by Batista's army. Only the gunshots inside the prison walls were 
audible, the pistol shots that killed any sympathizer that an officer or 
non-com recognized or held a grudge against. There were more and more 
bullets fired within the prison as the day wore on. Unit commanders came in 
from the streets, swaggering, with boasts of routing the disorganized rabble 
outside. Linda stood naked, numbed, while prisoners came in and bodies went 
out. She at last slid down the wall and let her forehead rest on her knees, 
utterly despairing of ever seeing the outside of the prison again. 

Decisive footsteps halted in front of her. Linda became aware of shiny black 
cavalry boots reflecting her forlorn image. Her eyes traveled up the long 
tops. The flare of well-worn beige jodphurs ballooned out, then a shining 
black holster at the left side of an equally shining military harness. A 
strange hope rose in Linda's heart. She recognized the passport cover her 
mother had bought. She looked up at the man's face. 

"Miss Linda Martin," the officer said. "I am Lieutenant Guitierrez." His 
blue-black hair was slicked back in a helmet-like pompadour as glossy as his 
leather equipment. His eyes were off-black, set deep under his brow, 
glittering like the eyes of an animal in a cave. He gave Linda a thin-lipped 
smile. The wings of his large, hawkish nose flared. 

Linda looked uncomfortably around. She pressed her knees tighter against her 
breasts. "My ... my clothes?" she asked hopefully. "When will the consul be 
here?" 

The lieutenant carefully put Linda's passport in his tunic's breast pocket. 
"Ah, yes ... the consul." His eyes glittered like wet rocks. He made a sad 
pout with his lips. "The general strike has ... impeded, yes, impeded, 
communications. For now, we would like to ask you some questions." He 
whipped a small, thin baton from under his left arm and gestured sharply. 
"Mendoza! Villareal!" 

The two soldiers could have been twins, save for the smashed-putty lump of 
the first one's nose. They grabbed Linda by the arms, their expressions' 
blank, and hauled her to her feet. "Hey!" she protested. Straight-nose dug 
his fingers painfully into her arm while Lump nose shook her other shoulder. 
"AHHH!" Linda gasped. One of them had found a cord of nerves in her bicep 
and pressed it into the bone. "Where are you taking me?" 

The lieutenant's lips stretched bloodlessly in that knife-edge smirk again. 
"A norteamericana so lovely as yourself deserves more privacy." He turned 
sharply away from the sergeant's desk to lead Linda and the bookend soldiers 
down a corridor. 

The heavy, clanking chains on her ankles hobbled Linda. She took two or 
three hurried steps for every long stride of the soldiers. She tripped. 
Mendoza and Villareal merely tightened their grip on her upper arms and 
dragged her, letting the smooth-worn stone of the ancient corridor scrape 
the ends of her toes. The lieutenant tapped his swagger stick on the seam of 
his pants, never looking back, until they reached a heavy iron door set deep 
in the wall. He stood aside while Lump-nose found a wrist-thick key and 
swung the ancient portal open. 

The soldiers thrust her through the narrow door. Linda fell heavily on her 
right side, unable to catch herself. "I-I'm an American citizen! You can't 
keep me here!" she said, her voice rising hysterically. Linda rolled onto 
her back and stared wildly up at the lieutenant. The brief flag of hope that 
had waved when she'd seen her passport in his hands had fallen in the 
corridor outside. 

The only light in the bare cell came from a tiny window ten feet off the 
floor. A square of brightness illuminated the officer's crotch, showing the 
distinct lump of his hidden prick. "You are suspected of treason against the 
people and government of Cuba," the lieutenant intoned heavily. He stoped 
tapping his baton and reversed it smartly into the crook of his elbow. 

Linda couldn't believe her ears. "No! I ... I just came for a visit! My 
friends and I...." The image of Judy dying in the cobbled street hit her 
like a medicine ball. 

"Find Maxine! She'll tell you! We ... we were shopping, and-" She crept away 
as best she could, pushing her shackled feet against the floor, 
spider-walking her fingers beneath the small of her back. She moved halfway 
up the wall behind her, trying to press through the stone into whatever 
sunlight showed outside. 

"Shopping for heroin, perhaps?" the lieutenant sneered. He moved closer, and 
the square of light rose to his face. "Or was it guns, guns for those 
barbudos, those bearded swine in the mountains?" 

The world caved in around Linda. The light on the officer's face locked her 
eyes to him as surely as the handcuffs locked her wrists. His hard, 
glittering eyes seemed to bore into her face, reading Judy's words of the 
night before like a string of tickertape running in her mind. His nostrils 
flared again, but this time his hawk-beak nose was like a bloodhound's on a 
hot scent. 

"What was the name of your contact?" he snapped. Linda shook her head 
numbly. 

"No ... no," she mumbled. There was no way the Cuban lieutenant could 
mistake it for anything but abject misery. She was limp all over, held up 
only by the light reflected from those burning black eyes. Linda was losing 
everything outside the band of light across his face. When he snapped a 
string of orders, she thought her mind was gone. Linda couldn't even 
recognize the sounds as Spanish. 

Hands grabbed her. The cuffs on her wrists released for an instant, then 
snapped shut again, catching her hands in front of her. With a twist of her 
torso and a heavy, almost brutal shove between her shoulderblades, Linda was 
propelled to a side wall. A soldier yanked her hands over her head. 
Something snapped metalically. The cuffs held her wrists fully extended over 
her head. 

"How were you to get to the mountains?" the officer rasped. 

Linda stared dumbly at him. 

"How were you to get to the mountains?" he repeated, a dangerous undertone 
in his voice. 

Linda felt her moods swinging like a pendulum, moving from ox-like numbness 
to panic. "No, I'm going home next week! I never wanted to join Castro! It 
wasn't me! It wasn't!" Her voice rose to a shrill scream. 

Quick and deadly as a viper, the baton whirled from the crook of the 
lieutenant's elbow to slash across the tips of her breasts. A knife of pain 
speared into her tits, then a hot throb replaced it. Linda stopped 
protesting, her eyes and mouth opening at the shock as much as the pain. She 
cringed against the wall, trying to pull herself up, out of the officer's 
reach. The chains rattled on her ankles. 

"Who was the taxi-driver?" 

Linda shook her head again. This time she was ready for the quick slash of 
the swagger stick, but it didn't come. "Who gave you the money?" the officer 
asked. 

"I didn't have money ... just for shopping, a few dollars," Linda said. 

The baton ripped up and in, across her left breast, then the backhand stroke 
slashed down and across her right nipple. Her nipples felt as if they'd been 
burnt with a branding iron. The points oozed pulses of throbbing fire 
outward until the whole round swell of each tit glowed from within. Tears of 
pain and shame at her nakedness welled up in Linda's eyes. "Please, I'd tell 
you if I knew," she whimpered, gnawing at her lower lip. 

The whistle of the stick speeding through the dank air warned her-too late. 
The tip sliced across her left cheekbone. A strip of skin felt torn away. 
Linda turned her face to the side, leaving the stinging red brand showing 
full-on to the lieutenant. "I don't know," she whined. 

The whole front of her body felt hot, as if the fiery pain of the 
lacerations was spreading. Linda sagged, dangling from the handcuffs. Her 
knees bent, and the strain on her arms lifted her blazing breasts higher, 
flattening the rich globes. The officer gestured with his baton and stepped 
closer. 

The hard, heavy grab of his left hand on her cuntflesh straightened her like 
an electric shock. "Is this why you won't talk? You want me to fuck it out 
of you?" the lieutenant hissed. He twisted the fistful of flesh cruelly, 
tearing the hairs at the edges of her cunt. 

Linda tried to close her legs, but the officer's fist was locked to her 
twat. "AHHH!" she grunted. "Oww, oh, please!" She tried to squirm away, but 
that only tortured her tight-gripped gash more brutally. 

She could feel every one of his fingers gouging into the outer pad of her 
left cuntlip. The ragged nail of his thumb dug up and down the other side of 
her vee, bruising the inner folds against the stiffening pellet of her clit 
and ripping still more hairs from her pussy. 

The kneading, twisting, tearing pressure around her pussy slowed, becoming 
gender. The new series of grasping touches was somehow more abusive, more an 
invasion than the officer's first violent grab at her twat. Linda felt 
moisture ooze from her vagina and grease his palm. He worked the cuntjuice 
against her labia with degrading voluptuousness, slimily coercing her body 
to respond. 

A fingertip found the mouth of her pussy and wriggled in. The insidious 
violation of her body made Linda want to gag. "No-oooo," she moaned, 
twisting her arms, galling her wrists on the handcuffs. "Oh, God, please, 
Mister Guitierrez," Linda whimpered. 

With a mixture of pain, disgust, and self-hatred, Linda felt her clitty 
erecting. The burning of her nipples telegraphed along her nerves, and the 
three hot spots grew hotter and harder together. 

"Yesss, ah, yess," the lieutenant whispered. "A norteamericana slut, a whore 
for me to find answers from! Ay, si, puta colorada! Venga por me verga, 
pnta!" 

The glossy diagonal strap of his harness pressed Linda's right nipple into 
the throbbing ache of her tit. Her asscheeks flexed and clenched against the 
stone wall. The tall redhead tried to stifle the part of her mind that was 
enjoying the arousal, the relief from the questions and slashes of the 
swagger stick. 

The futile attempt only made her cuntmouth kiss against his fingertip. Linda 
felt the sensitive walls of her vagina milking at his straining digit. She 
turned her head away in shame, tossing her long red hair across the 
lieutenant's face. 

A hand fumbled at her belly. Linda squeezed her eyes shut. His lips pressed 
against her ear, muttering Spanish words she'd never heard in an oily 
intonation that was too too familiar. She caught words like "carne" and 
verbs that sounded as gluey as a boot sucking out of thigh-deep mud. Her 
flesh crawled. 

The two soldiers had left the cell. Linda felt the lieutenant's hand 
creeping on her skin, roaming degradingly from her hip to her breasts. The 
end of the swagger stick scraped her, stack between his thumb and the pad of 
his palm, reminding her of the whiplash blows he'd already given her. There 
was just enough slack in the chain between the handcuffs for Linda to sway 
from side to side as his hips forced her to the wall. 

The heavy buckle of his belt flopped against her thigh. Linda felt a length 
of hard heat against her lower belly. An ancient, surpressed curiosity 
melded with her pain and fear. She knew it was his cock touching her, and a 
part of her wanted to grind her belly against it. Linda tried to move toward 
his prick and away from the finger stabbing into her cunthole. She moaned, 
torn between terror, revulsion, and the high, heady feelings of arousal. 

A hand grabbed her asscheek, pawing and kneading the firm flesh. It was a 
cruel parody of Judy's gentle, unhurried touch, molding her flesh 
lasciviously. Linda sobbed huge defeated tears, drowning even the continual 
murmur of the lieutenant's voice. 

The officer's fly was fully open now. His pants had fallen away from his 
cock and the wiry, sweaty clumps of his prickbush. He took his intrusive 
finger out of her cuntmouth and held her asscheeks away from the wall. His 
prick ground steadily up and down on her pussymound, tugging the hairs back 
and forth. Lieutenant Guitierrez took half a step backward, still reveling 
in the lush textures of her asscheeks. 

Linda arched forward like a hood ornament, her legs dangling, her arms up 
and back, still imprisoned by the handcuffs. The stripes of the baton glowed 
on her skin, reddening as the officer pulled her further from the wall. She 
went higher, higher, until his cockhead slipped down the center of her muff 
and wedged between her cunt and her asshole. Her arms ached as if her 
shoulder sockets would break. Linda felt a huge gush of cunt juice flood 
from her vagina as the lieutenant rubbed his knob back and forth in her 
crotch. She wanted to die from the sheer debasing shame of her body's 
reaction, but a part of her mind made her watch his face as the moment of 
penetration came nearer. 

Guitierrez' face was twisted into a look between a sneer and a lusty leer. 
His eyes ran over her body, taking in the coppery red of her cunthairs, the 
smooth flatness of her belly, and the amazing swell of her tits. "Ay! Que 
clara! Su cula es clara, y grande, y...." He stopped, then the curl of his 
upper lip exaggerated into a contemptuous snarl. "Your ass, Miss Martin! I'm 
talking about your ass, your bright, beautiful, big ass!" His fingers gouged 
deeper into the sensitive flesh every time he hissed, "ass". 

"It's wide and soft and perfect for a man to slap his balls against! This 
ass, this pale white American ass of yours used to be my breakfast, my 
lunch, my dinner and my bed at night when I had to suck the bullshit from 
your fat mother and your stinking father! I'm going to fuck your beautiful 
American ass until you tell me about the barbudos, until you tell me about 
the money, until you tell me everything you know!" Flecks of foam spattered 
from his lips as he sprayed hatred at her. His fingers never stopped the 
ceaseless massage of her ass cheeks. 

Linda was terrified. Only the middle link of the chain between her ankles 
touched the floor. She tried to writhe away, but his fingers had turned to 
claws. The head of his prick found the tiny oval of her virgin cunt and 
stabbed up at it. She squealed. 

Guitierrez held her in his left hand and brought the baton around to the 
front of her body. He shook it at her, then, jabbing two stiff fingertips 
against the very top of her muff, said, "I'm going to start with your cunt, 
Miss Martin, this passionate red cunt! I'm not going to talk about your 
TITS-" he backhanded across her breasts, making both aching mounds vibrate 
with agony-"because your tits-" he slapped again, and the base of the 
swagger stick cut a groove in the underswell of her breast that immediately 
oozed blood-"won't hurt you as much as your ass and your cunt!" With the 
last word, he shoved savagely up into her vagina, tearing the membrane of 
her hymen. 

Linda gasped. The assaulting lance of pain seared her vitals. Guitierrez 
slapped her face, knocking her head half off her shoulders. The knob of his 
prick was lodged in her cuntflesh now, and he pushed deeper. 

"We Cubanos love fucking American cunts," he growled, working his prick 
further into her torn channel. "We love Americans, and we love them too 
fucking much! That's why culito Eisenhower won't help us with more guns! 
Your fat sugar daddies don't want American cunts to come close to Cubanos." 
He took her hips in his hands and pulled her down onto the base of his 
prick. 

Linda felt the hard arch of his pubic bone grind her pussyflesh against her 
clitty, and a fuller, hotter excitement than ever Judy's tongue had given 
her filled her belly. The end of the lieutenant's prick circled around, 
levering deep in her belly, and she opened her mouth soundlessly, shocked at 
the variety of lusty feelings in her body. Her tits pulsed with an aching, 
throbbing fire. Her cuntlips burned from his fingernails. Her ass had the 
dull, tender feeling of bruised muscle everywhere his hand touched. The 
hottest, most sensuous part of her cuntchannel was on fire with the 
stretching pain of her ruptured cherry. Linda spread her knees wide and 
clasped her thighs around his hips. 

"Yes, I know you whores," Guitierrez grunted. "You stole the blonde bitch's 
lover, and she told us about your plans." His fingers gouged into her 
asscheeks like the claws of a nursing cheetah, dragging her close, then 
letting her swing away on the chain that held her hands so high above her 
head. "You come here, here to my country, and perform your perverted actions 
on each other." 

Linda felt a huge thrust of his cock ram her womb up and forward. "Unh!" she 
grunted, automatically tightening her long legs around his twisting hips. 
"No-I-" she began, shaking her head. Her downcast eyes caught the moving 
bulge of his prick-knob where it pressed her belly obscenely forward. 

Lieutenant Guitierrez lifted her ass high, pulling his prick back and away. 
"YES!" he shouted, and jammed Linda's twat down the length of prick. "Bitch 
cunt whore! You think Castro will let you work your filth into his camps?" 
With every second word, as if he were reciting a violent chant, the officer 
rammed meat into her cuntchannel and stroked back out. 

Linda gave up. She wept, not even trying to disagree with the officer. She 
wept for Judy, she wept for Maxine, but mostly she wept for herself. The 
brutal slam of his pubic bone against her pelvis made her legs and arms 
tighten in spasms. She jerked herself up and down, back and forth on the 
handcuffs until blood seeped down her wrists. She quit listening, trying 
only to let her body go slack against the battering-ram assaults of the 
lieutenant's prick. 

It was worse than vile, worse than degrading. He still wore his tunic, his 
pistol, his boots. Linda felt the crumpled top of his pants brushing her 
chained ankles with every thrust of his cock. Linda tried to make her 
disgust rise again, tried to form a wall of hatred that would stop his 
throbbing cockstrokes, but it wouldn't work. She stopped resisting 
everything but the rising heat of the sensations in her cunt. 

She couldn't help herself. The forcefucking compelled her body to respond to 
his prick. The slashed heat of her titties, the mauled mounds of her ass, 
the puffy, bruised slices of her cuntlips, all worked to arouse that secret 
center of tension in her belly. Linda let her head loll back. Her long hair 
brushed the wall whenever the officer loosened his grip on her ass. She 
split herself off from the feeling, staring at the ceiling until her cunt 
seemed miles away. 

But each jabbing stroke of the rapecock brought that whirling hunger in her 
cunt closer. She felt the muscles of her thighs knotting. Her asscheeks 
flexed and relaxed in time to his grip. Her tits rolled on her chest-the 
twisting motions of her shoulders encouraged them. Her hips began moving in 
time to his strokes! 

Linda knew the feeling was just like the magical excitement she'd felt with 
Judy. She laughed hysterically, and the officer snarled. His words were no 
longer distinct enough to hear. He redoubled the savage intensity of his 
fuckstrokes. 

His prick jabbed and whirled, throbbing into every corner of her cuntflesh. 
Linda's rage and disgust and hysterical panic merged, and she threw her cunt 
at his rampaging prick. 

Over and over, she corkscrewed her hips around the plunging piston of rigid 
meat. The sweaty slapping sounds of his belly against her crotch filled the 
dank air of the cell. She battled with the lieutenant, her cunt working 
furiously against his cock. Linda tried to rip the invasive prick away from 
his body. With her feet shackled in heavy chains and her hands cuffed high 
overhead, Linda could fight back only with her raped, ruined, bleeding cunt. 
She growled like a tigress. 

Gripping, milking, rotating her hips, Linda discovered more about the 
frenzied skills of her pussy than she'd thought possible. She straightened 
her neck and glared back at the sweating officer. She saw the oily 
perspiration on his face, the swampy patches darkening the armpits of his 
tunic, the bulging cords in his neck. Knowing she looked at least as wild 
and abandoned as the furiously hunching lieutenant, she grinned savagely. 

Linda looked carnivorous. She showed her teeth in a grimace of lust and 
revulsion. She churned her hips like the dasher in an overloaded washing 
machine. She squeezed the base of his prick with a vise-like cuntal grip. 
The redhead whipped her long hair back from her face with a flick of her 
neck. "Ahhhrghhh!" she snarled, and accelerated. 

Even the brutal fury of the lieutenant's cockthrusts was nothing compared to 
the sloshing, churning, hipswinging speed of Linda's cunty contortions. The 
chain between her ankles flogged against the shins of his high boots. The 
sweatslick surfaces of her ass made his fingers skid. Her tits bounced and 
jiggled like Jell-o creatures trying to break free of her body. The 
coral-pink tips of her tits were only a widening blur. Linda whipped her ass 
up, down, sideways, like a dervish. She felt his cock tense. The 
slap-slap-slap of his balls against her ass stopped. His nuts drew up into a 
tight mass at the base of his prick. 

Linda felt victory, a victory as cruel and painful as the first 
cherry-rupturing stab of his prick into her twat. She fought on, the 
glove-soft walls of her cunt stripping the nerves in his prick. The 
lieutenant's eyes went wide, then squeezed shut. He grunted like a feeding 
bear. 

The assaulting stabs of his rape tool slowed. Linda speeded her hips. Two 
frothing rotations of her ass whirled cuntflesh around each shuddering 
stroke of his prick. Three ... four swampy motions to his one. Linda's 
chains clanked like a hundred maltuned bells. 

Her shoulders were ripping. The skin at her wrists sliced to ribbons. Pain 
and hate and anger filled her, rising on the crest of tension in her cunt. 

With a blast like a ton of dynamite, a fantastic explosion hit her cunt. The 
thrust of the lieutenant's cock blasted past the end of her womb. Linda knew 
his seed was spewing deep in her cunt. 

The gutwrenching power of her orgasm numbed her. The hot trail of slime on 
her thigh couldn't be anything but his jizz. Linda didn't care. The fury in 
her mind fueled the incredible bursts of energy in her cunt, and shattering 
waves of orgasm flashed throughout her body. 

Her vision blurred. Linda forgot the lieutenant, forgot the prison, forgot 
the cock that still pumped sperm into her cunthole. She felt the marvelous 
release of her cuntal tension, and that was all that mattered, at the end. 
She rode the pulses for long, long seconds, and everything was peaceful 
within her at last. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

A horrible suction dragged at her guts. Linda moaned, then realized it was 
Lieutenant Guiterrez' prickhead sliding down the come-clenched walls of her 
cunt. 

The meaty suction of her cuntwalls around his glans was pulling her inside 
out. "Oohhhaughhh!" she groaned, her mouth falling open. The wide flare of 
his knob popped sickeningly through the slick band of muscle at the mouth of 
her pussy. He released her hips. Linda dropped away from his groin, her 
bruised buttocks slapping wetly against the clammy stone wall. Warm semen 
spilled down her abused thighs. Linda was too weak to stand. She dangled, 
her long hair cascading across her face. Her green eyes were glazed, barely 
focussing on the lieutenant's face. 

Lieutenant Guitierrez hitched his jodphurs up, stuffing his wilting prick 
away. "Now you will tell me," he said, drawing himself up into parade-rest. 
"You have seen only the smallest beginning of what can happen if you do not 
reveal your contact." 

The handcuffs felt like razors digging into the outside edge of her palms. 
Linda tried to control her legs, pulling herself upright with her chained 
hands. Her knees felt like weak soup. She got just enough control of her 
body to stand, her feet six inches apart. The ache in her shoulders, the 
searing, slicing pain in her wrists eased. She stared mutely at the 
lieutenant. 

His question couldn't sink into her numbed brain. Linda saw the cavalry 
boots, the sunbleached uniform, the relaxed stance of the man, and could not 
comprehend why he still stood before her. Semen was turning sticky on her 
thigh. She felt the raw, torn nerves and tissues at the mouth of her vagina 
and the red heat of blood all through her crotch. She took a long, shaky 
breath. 

The motion made her shrinking clitty tingle. The single trickle of sensation 
was enough to remind her of the obscene fullness, the totally abasing 
violation of her body. She closed her eyes tightly and turned her head to 
the side, trying to wipe the lieutenant's image from her mind and body. 
"Aowww," she whimpered. 

"You do not choose to answer?" Lieutenant Guitierrez said. "Very well, Miss 
Martin. I shall return shortly." He turned sharply as only a petty tyrant 
can and stomped out of the cell. The footsteps of Mendoza and Villareal 
joined him in the corridor, leaving Linda Martin alone with her shame. 

Death and fear and self-disgust dominated her thoughts as surely as the 
Cuban chains dominated her body. Linda willed her heart to stop beating. She 
wept and screamed like a madwoman. The tall, lovely, despoiled teenager 
flung the back of her head against the stone wall, trying to dash her brains 
out. Her solid Ohio upbringing told Linda it had to be a fatal flaw in 
herself that had put her in the cell, locked her in the chains. She was 
worse than worthless ... she was depraved. Linda thought of her parents, her 
classmates, everyone who'd ever trusted or respected her. She could never 
face any of them again. 

Linda tried to kill herself. It was the only way out. Sometime during the 
furious fucking Guitierrez had forced her into, she'd begun to enjoy it, and 
that made her unfit to live. Linda knew she was lower than any human could 
be and survive. She felt the drying slime on her thighs, and knew she was 
slimier than the semen that glued her cunthairs together. She held her 
breath until spots obscured her vision. Her limbs went slack. A t last, she 
thought, sinking into a buzzing haze of red-black. 

The knife-edge pain in her wrists brought her back. It hadn't worked. When 
she fainted her breathing began again, foiling her plan. There had to be 
another way. 

Linda pressed her back to the clammy stone blocks. The sunlit square had 
crept across the floor to the front of the cell. 

The cell was bare, blank save for another hook in the opposite wall and the 
ancient steel plate of the door. Linda felt a curious calm, like the calm of 
total fatigue, come over her. Even though she knew it was useless, she 
searched the floor of the cell for anything that could help her die. 

Yes, Linda thought, it happened when I started fighting back, whenlworked at 
tearing him apart. I let my body betray me. He forced me, but I wound up 
trying to force him. I acted like an animal, like I'm no better than 
Guitierrez. That's why I have to die. Linda nodded as if there were someone 
there to agree with her. The frantic struggle at the end of the fucking came 
back to her, and she involuntarily arched her hips forward. Her head lolled 
back again as it had when her passivity ended. She knew how to kill herself. 

Linda grinned, gritting her teeth at the pain in her wrists. It was simple, 
really. She drew her knees uj and forward. She planted her feet solidly 
against the wall. She strained back until the vulnerable column of her 
throat was stretched to the fullest. Even the ache in her arms eased. She 
smiled, serene as some Buddha, and kicked off from the wall. 

Her luscious breasts stretched further, flattening until the tips were like 
pink towers. Linda swung forward and up, her hair streaming behind her. She 
dragged her chained ankles up into a tight tuck and fell back toward the 
wall. She would end the shame, the abuse, the pain in one second. The 
satisfying rush as her body accelerated toward the stone blocks relaxed her 
completely. Her grin widened. Limp, her head fell forward onto her chest. 
The blocks slammed her shoulders. The back of Linda's head bounced off the 
wall. The bitter shame of frustration and failure overwhelmed her. 

Metal scraped. Linda looked up. Light and the sound of Lieutenant 
Guitierrez' voice hit her simultaneously. "Miss Martin?" the lieutenant 
asked. "You are ready for more questioning?" He gestured to the soldiers 
behind him. They materialized in the cell and plucked her from the floor. 

Linda wanted to buckle like wet cardboard, but she struggled to her feet. 
She let herself be frog marched through the corridor, watching the shifting 
shadows of herself and her captors grow and shrink on the ill-lit walls. 

They stopped on another level, half a flight of stairs and several hundred 
yards from the cell she'd been left in. The door in front of her was so old 
that the hand-hewn timbers had blackened. Lieutenant Guitierrez stepped in 
front of her and unlocked the cuffs and leg irons before opening the door. 
Linda rubbed her hands together, trying to make her arms work at her command 
again. The two soldiers took positions on either side of the door. The 
lieutenant opened the door and ushered her in. 

Linda was shamefully aware of her nakedness when she stepped onto the heavy 
Oriental rug. She tried to hang back, crossing her hands in front of her. 
Lieutenant Guitierrez pulled her into the room, bringing her face to face 
with a jowly, much-decorated officer behind a huge desk. The senior 
officer's lizard-like eyes blinked twice, lazily, before the lieutenant 
spoke. "Mi Coronel, esta es la rebelde Norteamericana." 

"Bueno," the colonel said, raising his hand in a perfunctory fraction of a 
salute. His eyes followed Guitierrez out of the room before returning to 
Linda's disheveled, stillerotic form. His expression never changed as he 
took in the bruises, the cuts, the bloodstains on her fair skin. At least 
thirty seconds passed. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it 
again. He finally looked away. 

Linda hadn't realized she held her breath until she let a sigh of relief 
gust out. "I want to see the Amer-" she began. 

The colonel slammed his hand on the desk top with a pistol-crack sharpness. 
"Silence!" He glared across the few feet separating him from Linda. "You are 
not entitled to speak! 

Linda cringed back, raising her hands in protection. For the first time she 
saw the glass-fronted rack of guns on the wall behind the colonel. A 
snake-like coil of black leather on the desk caught her eye. She gulped. A 
five-foot length of slender darkness stood in the corner, a black cord 
trailing from its tip. Linda swiveled her head. The room was dark and bare 
behind her. Heavy manacles and iron devices that looked old enough to have 
been used by the conquistadors lay on a low table near the edge of the rug. 
She wanted to back away from the colonel, but whatever unseen horror might 
lurk behind kept her in place. 

"Look at me." The colonel's voice was as flat and deadly as his 
dispassionate eyes. "I am considered skillful. You will tell me whatever I 
ask." His bulky shoulders and scarred, moon-like face filled Linda's vision. 
Goosepimples stood up all over Linda. She nodded. 

"Who was your contact?" The colonel didn't look at Linda after he asked the 
question. He slowly stood up and hefted the coils of the black snake whip. 

"I ... I came with my friends. I didn't know-" Linda stammered. The whip 
curled out in a long line and flicked her naked belly with aloud "CRACK!" 
The sound alone made her jump back. Only the tip had touched her skin, and a 
flash of fire on her belly blossomed in pain. 

The colonel coiled the whip again. "Ten thousand American dollars is too 
much for tourists to carry. I have already checked with your compatriots in 
the ... exporting ... business. They know nothing of you." He stretched his 
lips in a travesty of a smile. "What can a poor simple Cuban think except 
that you were going to join the rebels?" 

The colonel walked around the desk. He stared down at the tableful of 
torture implements and asked, "What do you know about the owner of the shop 
where you took cover?" He nearly made a choice, like a plump matron debating 
over a box of chocolates, then moved away from the table. "He turned for us 
less than a week ago. Los Castristos found out just this evening. He 
probably saved your life today, but your Communist friends murdered him. 
What is the point of protecting such ones?" 

Linda's mind raced. She knew Judy was dead, but that was all she knew. 
Loyalty to her lover-friend made her resolve to tell Batista's officers 
nothing. She thought of the places they'd been that morning (was it only a 
morning ago?) and wondered if she could pinpoint one, any one, and bargain 
for her own freedom. She shook her head. 

The colonel took the long, thin buggy whip from the corner. He watched the 
frayed end of the silk cord pop softly as he made fly,-casting motions with 
the long handle. "A strange coincidence that you should pick that particular 
hotel. Your own government has told us about the owner, about his long stay 
in Mexico. Why were you and your ... friends staying there?" 

Linda shrugged, trying to keep the fear from her face. That little thing 
can't possibly hurt like the bullwhip, she told herself. "My ... my parents 
recommended it. They stayed there on their honeymoon," she lied. 

The tip of the limber steel rod whistled. The silk popped against Linda's 
cheekbone. "UNHHH!" she grunted. The eye on that side filled with tears. 
It's not that bad, she thought, biting her lower lip. 

"Please, Miss Martin," the colonel said softly. His voice was becoming 
breathy. "I am a lie detector. You mustn't try to fool me." 

"They stayed there, they did," she protested. The limber little whip flicked 
again, the tip moving only a few inches. The end of the cord slashed from 
the edge of her labia to the outside of her thigh. 

An angry welt was already rising. It felt like liquid fire painted carefully 
along her skin, touching her pussy. She looked up at the colonel again. The 
first sign of interest showed on his face. The pencil-thin butt of the whip 
rested between his thumb and two blunt fingertips. The silk cord trailed 
along the floor from where the shaft rested on the rug. "I'm not a rebel ... 
I don't know anything about Castro ... about anything in Cuba!" Linda 
whimpered. "Please, please, Colonel, just let me go!" Her face, her whole 
body, pleaded with him. Her hands rose in a half-prayer, and Linda took a 
step toward him. 

So fast she hardly saw it, the whip slashed up from the rug. The end of the 
cord popped softly just at the top of her cuntal crease. "AIEE!" Linda 
screamed, throwing her shoulders back reflexively. Her hips snapped forward 
in an instantaneous pelvic thrust, offering her cunt to the searing touch of 
the whip. She held the position for a split-second, then covered her pussy 
with both hands and tried to shrink away. "Oh, God, please! No, Colonel, 
please!" 

The heavyset colonel smiled for the first time, an oily, sinister smirk that 
promised more pain. Chills ran along Linda's skin even as heat in her loins 
followed the stinging pain in her pussy. "Tell me who, tell me when, tell me 
where," he hissed. 

"I can't! I don't know!" Linda wailed. She shook with deep, gut-twisting 
terror. The rising heat in her pussy scared her almost as much as the slow, 
step-by-step advance of the colonel, and the colonel scared her witless. 

Flick! Flick! Flick! Three short, sharp movements of the colonel's hand 
tweaked her nipples, her hands, her belly with the end of the whip. Linda's 
arms moved a fraction of a second behind each shocking slash, too slow to 
shield her from the bite of the innocent-looking silk cord. It was like a 
bombardment of flaming match-heads on her most sensitive spots. 

"Who!" Flick! the corner of her mouth blazed with pain. 

"When!" Flick! the left side of her pussy stung. 

"Where!" Flick-flick! the top and bottom of her left breast were sliced 
open. 

Linda turned and ran, but the room was only twenty feet long. The 
snake-tongue slashes of the whip crisscrossed her buttocks, her thighs, her 
back. The icy sweat of terror dripped onto her welts, fueling the fires that 
ate into her skin. She reached the wall and huddled into a fetal crouch. 

It was useless. The strokes became deliberate, moving here and there with 
graduated intensity. 

Linda jerked and quivered under the skinny braid. The back of her neck, her 
shoulders, her buttocks felt the white-hot caress of the whip again and 
again. Kinda knew without looking that the colonel stood over her, picking 
each spot before lazily laying a razor-thin line of pain along her body. She 
pulled herself tighter into her defensive ball, pressing her forehead and 
knees against the stone wall. Linda gasped and whimpered, squealing at each 
touch of the whip. 

It had seemed haphazard at first, but Linda soon saw the gruesome method. 
Each fresh stripe on her skin was planned to surprise her. No two strokes 
landed on the same spot. Once the tip would pop a flower of red pain onto 
her ribs. Next, the whole braid would wrap cruelly around her ankle or 
thigh, leaving a line of bare-peeled blood and muscle and raw nerve ends. 
Her asscheeks were a latticework of blazing red lines. The tip of the narrow 
cord could insinuate itself around her arm and bite her titty, or pop 
numbing pain into the quivering ring of her asshole. Linda choked on tears. 

The plan changed slowly. The strokes of the whip strayed less. The tip of 
that obscenely nimble silk cord kept finding new routes across her skin to 
the base of her pussy. Linda clenched her asscheeks. Was that blood flowing 
from the welts on her labia, or was it juice bubbling fresh from her abused 
cunt? Linda wished the colonel would go back to punishing her. 

Her body was doing it again, preparing to betray her. Linda's sobs changed. 
More bitterness and self-disgust sounded in her voice than pain. She hated 
herself, cursed her body, loathed the erogenous warmth that the silk-tipped 
whip lewdly elicited from her cunt. She wept at the deadly realization that 
the whip's caresses aroused her as skillfully and surely as had Judy's 
tongue. By the time she realized the fact of her cunty heat, it had passed 
beyond titillation. Dread and excitement mingled in her mind. Linda realized 
the pain could make her come. 

The colonel reveled in the sadistic power he held over Linda. His lips 
curled back from his teeth in a bizarre grimace of twisted lust. He lingered 
longer between strokes, watching the ripple of her flesh tightening in 
anticipation, then slashing the whip across her buttocks when the muscles 
relaxed. He was like a long-caged cat visiting years of stored torment on a 
single battered mouse. He stood ten feet away, letting the long handle and 
the skinny lash reach swiftly to raise welts on her ass or draw flecks of 
blood from her back and thighs. 

Like an undermatched prizefighter trying to give a crowd its money's worth, 
he spun out the punishment as long as he could. The tip of the cord danced 
on Linda's skin. With a gesture as obscenely delicate as a painter putting a 
gleam in a portrait's eye, the colonel flicked the whipsilk to tear a 
half-dozen hairs from Linda's tangled red mane, then resumed inflaming her 
pussy. He selected the spots carefully, teasing more warmth into the base of 
her mons. The undercreases of her asscheeks glowed red with the repeated 
touch of the lash, and the tiny puckered dot of her rectum blushed to the 
same shade as her overheated cuntmouth. 

Linda found the waiting between strokes worse than the cutting slashes 
themselves. Where would he strike, and when? Would the cord curl around her, 
or would it give that whispering "pop" that meant a starburst of agonizing 
pain? At the end of the whip, at the end of her rope, Linda knew it was 
useless to resist. Even hiding her face in her arms did no good ... the 
snaky tip of the cord could still flash to cut her lips or curl around to 
slice viciously at her forehead. Though she jerked with every measured blow, 
Linda slowly uncoiled from her huddled position. 

The colonel loved the sight of the tall, naked redhead acceding to his 
expert torture. He struck at her arms, and they went slack. He curled the 
lash around her thigh, and Linda's legs uncoiled. She rolled slowly onto her 
back and stared at him. Her green eyes pleaded dully. 

And pleaded for more. Linda let her legs fall apart, and the colonel 
devoured the open vulnerability of her loins with his eyes. He took nibbles 
of her cunthair with the delicate whip, then sampled the firm, fleshy 
delight of her full bosom with the fraying end of the silk cord. His thick 
neck bulged over the collar of his tunic. The colonel strode closer. 

Linda looked up at an aroused figure of relentless power. She drew her knees 
up, offering the abused slot of her pussy to him. Her mouth opened in a gasp 
when the silk lash trailed across her thigh. Linda closed her eyes and 
rolled her hips forward when the feathery touch slid along the side of her 
cuntmound. She was aroused enough to want another whip slash across her 
pussy. The burning weals on her ass and thighs had heated her cunt until the 
whole copper-haired region around her pussy sopped with cream. As she lay 
waiting for the next stroke of the colonel's whip, she thought, I'd do 
anything, anything for-"N-n-nooo!" she moaned, frightened by the enormity of 
the thought. 

A jolt like a welder's arc blazed in her cunt. Linda's hips snapped off the 
floor, thrusting toward the whip before she even heard the silky noise of 
the tip popping. The sharp spear of pain that arrowed into her cunt shocked 
her whole body into instant rigidity. Linda let her hips down again. 

Another lash at her cunt made her buck again. The dreadfully sweet agony 
around her clit made a balloon of cunty heat swell in her belly. She knew 
that the release couldn't be long in coming. The pain was a hundred times 
sharper than the ripping of her cherry had been, a thousand times as 
arousing as the first cuntal kiss from Judy's sucking lips. 

The next stroke was torture worse than any of the beating so far. The lash 
hit the outside of her cuntlips, popping so precisely, so sharply, that only 
a ripple of flesh caressed her clit. Again, down the other side of her 
red-furred pussy, then across the top of the vee. Linda moaned, feeling the 
near-climax heat in her pussy fading. She rotated her hips lewdly, inviting 
that harsh silk cord to slice her clit to orgiastic ribbons. She felt the 
edge of cunty frustration bringing its dull, ugly chill into her loins, and 
she wanted to cry. "I won't tell you ... I'll never tell you anything?' she 
screamed, frothing. She glared defiantly up at the colonel. Linda grabbed 
the back of each knee in her hands and dragged her thighs up against her 
tits. "Never!" she shouted. 

The colonel grinned voraciously. He began whipping her cunt again. His 
flushed face and the ring of sweat at his collar showed his excited arousal 
as much as the rigid lump in his pants. He didn't bother with artistic 
strokes or fine touches. He slashed at the red-haired, red-meated center of 
her gash like a madman. He cursed vilely in Spanish. 

Linda writhed under the whip like a woman possessed. She felt the fiery 
stimulation forcing her blood to rush faster in her loins. The whole wide 
cradle of her pelvis was congested, full of cuntcream and heat and the 
incredible steamy simmering of her cunt. She rocked back onto her shoulders, 
and the end of the flailing whip sliced ribbons of torchy heat along her 
ass. Even the ring of her rectum ripped with the lashing. She had to turn 
her head to the side as the colonel stepped closer. The cord sliced up 
between her thighs, branding her belly with vertical stripes. 

The colonel tore at his pants with his left hand and flogged furiously at 
her cunt with his right. A bloated, purple-tipped length of cock appeared, 
jutting up like a howitzer. The whole knob was smeared with pre-come juice. 
It looked as brutal and evil as the colonel's snarling face. Spit flecked 
his lips, spraying onto Linda's ass and thighs as he spattered her with 
curses. 

The metal rod itself beat against her cunt, and Linda started to come. The 
silk cord was tattered from slashing at her skin, frayed larger than a 
half-dollar at the tip. The handle was as limber as a fly casting rod, and 
it bent to deliver a stinging slash from her clit to her rectum with each 
frenzied motion of the colonel's arm. 

Linda was coming harder with every second of the beating. Her hips rolled 
like a stormy ocean. Her cleavage was scarlet from the thrashing of the 
lash. Her cuntmouth winked open and shut with each shattering pulse of her 
orgasm. The merciless rise and fall of the whip slowed, then stopped, and 
Linda faced the colonel again. 

The whip flew across the room as he ripped the buckle of his gunbelt open. 
The holster hit the floor like a lead weight. High boots, tunic, necktie and 
all, the colonel knelt on the floor between her legs. 

Linda felt hot, sweating hands on her ass. She tried to control the 
pulsating convulsions of her cunt. He raised her ass higher. She rested on 
her shoulders and the back of her head. With a hammering, piledriver impact, 
his cockhead burst past her cuntmouth and plumbed her guts. 

Linda screamed with shock, terror and ecstasy. She squirmed, milking hot, 
simmering cunflesh around his prick. The barreling momentum of his first 
fuck thrust carried his engorged knob past her womb like a bludgeon. The 
numb shock at the center of her loins stopped her for the space of one 
frantic heartbeat, then her hips rotated in a faster frenzy than she'd ever 
felt. 

The colonel's belly battered her cuntmound. His prick sloshed back and forth 
like a stallion's, reaming her hole wider. The constant, mind-warping waves 
of Linda's orgasm kept her cunt clamped down around his meaty rod like a 
vise. She wailed and babbled, begging him in Egnlish. He cursed and foamed 
back at her in Spanish. 

They rolled across the floor, battling with the fury of Linda's come and the 
colonel's inflamed balls. The sweaty, hairy mass of his sac flogged against 
the whipstripes on her ass, and the sweat burned. The scratchy bush at the 
base of his massive cock scraped her raw clit like sandpaper. Pain and 
gasping, grasping, groaning cuntal pleasure racked her. Linda knew her 
shoulders were bruising, knew her cunt was aching, but her ongoing come 
blotted the fear out. She wrestled with the colonel, daring him to stop and 
daring him to continue. The whole world was nothing but a huge cock wrapped 
in a boiling cunt. 

The colonel grunted. He went stiff all over. Linda worked her cunt 
feverishly against him. She rolled and swiveled. She pounded her fists 
against his back. She dug her fingernails into his ass. That bulky belly 
against her cunt was hard as rock. She refused to let him slow down. 

Bouncing, jiggling, straining with the blurring speed of a totally released 
woman, she stripped the nerves from his prick. Linda kept moving when his 
tension slacked, then milked his prick harder when a pulse went through him 
again. She worked three viciously hard spurts of come from his cock, then 
lost count. Linda slowed enough to match his remaining thrusts. She threw 
her cunt up at him, then ground her belly into his. With a superhuman 
effort, she pulled back until only that massive knob was still in her cunt. 
She hung there, dead to everything but the swelling flange of his cockhead, 
and waited. Every nerve in her body screamed. 

"FFFUUUCKK!!!" she wailed, and slammed against the colonel again. The 
delayed waves of her orgasm came harder, harder, harder. She couldn't stop. 
The colonel was dead weight above her. He let her slide down. Her ass 
touched the floor again. Still Linda went on fucking back at his prick. She 
rolled and rippled, scratched and clawed, until the darkness at the bare end 
of the torture room swallowed her up. Even though she'd passed out from the 
sheer intensity of her orgasm, her body went on and on until the colonel's 
prick had faded to a limber ghost of its former size and slipped greasily 
out of her drooling pussy. 

After a long while, Linda woke again in the corridor outside the office. 
"Back to the cell," Lieutenant Guitierrez smirked, snapping the cuffs on her 
wrists again. The soldiers picked her up, and Linda's heart sank. 

I've got to get out of here ... but how? How! 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

The numbness that hit as she was led back to the cell stopped every thought 
but the single idea of escape. Linda wanted to get away before her battered, 
abused body betrayed her again, but the combination of the colonel's 
interrogation and the post-fucking dullness of her mind scarcely left enough 
energy to plan. She didn't look at the walls, the side corridors, the 
soldiers ... she didn't look at anything but her feet and the floor in front 
of them. 

A panicky, trapped-squirrel part of her mind tempted her to laugh. She knew 
she should be ashamed of her nakedness when they passed other groups in the 
hallways but she had a deeper, more shameful secret that made her exposed 
body seem positively modest. 

Bitter as bile inside her was the knowledge that she'd enjoyed the whip and 
the furious, brutal fucking in the colonel's office. She shook her head 
quickly to clear her mind, but the tightened grip of hands on her arms made 
her stop. She walked passively behind the lieutenant until they reached her 
cell again. 

The sun had gone down while she was in the colonel's chamber. The light from 
the corridor showed only the wrought-iron hook, nearly seven feet off the 
floor. Resigned for the moment, weary to her bones, Linda let the soldiers 
slip her handcuff-chain onto the hook and leave. Rest ... I just need to 
rest until I can think, she told herself. The heavy door closed with a 
doomed finality. 

It was dark, but not any cooler in the dark cell then when she'd left. Linda 
wasn't sure if she was dozing or fainting. Once in a while she lost 
consciousness, which at least relieved her growing thirst and the gnawing 
hunger at the pit of her stomach. 

The inages in her brief dreams were no relief. Tanks and jeeps and huge 
fireballs of explosions mingled with thoughts of Judy alive and Judy dead. 
Linda was water, lakes and oceans that would swallow her in cool blue-green 
and mountains of succulent fruits, but always the violence and pain 
surrounded everything. Then all would go dark, and the pain in her limbs 
told her that she was still alive, standing with eyes open. 

How very strange, she thought. Is this what dying is like? I can only see 
with my eyes closed-it's pitch-dark with them open! 

I have to get out of here. Maybe Maxine is s till in the city. Even if she 
isn't, I can wire home and.... 

What? No, not home! I ... no, not when they find out.... 

But I don't want to die! It's differentwhen it's a choice ... it's all right 
then. I won't let them kill me here! 

Linda peered into the dark. She couldn't tell where the door was now. She 
tried to bend her hands toward each other, hoping to find the chain of the 
handcuffs. Her fingers were too numb to feel anything. Only the resistance 
in her wrists told her when her fingers hit one another. She went on tiptoe 
and threw her hands upward. 

The chain rattled. Linda flicked her wrists up again. A metallic scraping 
came through the cuffs and grated down her arms. Was the chain about to slip 
off the top of the hook? She extended her arms to full height and flexed her 
knees. She was drawn tight as a fiddle string. 

She snnalpdher knees straight. Her shoulders scraped on the wall. The cuffs 
were free! Linda was rejoicing, still off the ground at the peak of her 
jump. Pain! Pain nearly severed her right hand. The wristlet of the cuffs 
jerked at her arm again. The point of the wrought-iron hook had speared 
between her wrist and the handcuff. She dangled, caught higher than before. 
He left heel barely touched the floor, and the yank at her arm had drawn her 
right leg up in a spasm of reflexive defense. 

It hurt terribly. Her whole weight had snapped onto he right shoulder. Her 
elbow felt as if a huge hammer had slammed against the bone. Linda tasted 
blood in her mouth. She stifled a grunt. She let her left arm dangle on the 
chain, swinging on a high diagonal arc as she went on tiptoe again. 

She flopped her wrist experimentally. The heavy iron point went halfway up 
the back of her hand. She knew she couldn't jump far enough to free herself, 
not with the tiny slack in her arm when she stood on the toes of one foot. 

Feeling returned to her left hand, first the pins-and-needles of restored 
circulation, then the dull ache of unused, swollen joints. She rested as 
best she could. Linda waited for her heart to stop pounding. She dredged 
throughts from deep in her mind, reaching for the solution. Even with stone 
walls and solid iron doors between her and the outside of the prison, the 
two inches of hook that had passed through the handcuff was the most 
important thing in her life. Her failure at suicide paled beside the joy and 
frustration that he first jump had caused. She pushed her right hand up, and 
the steel cuff slid further onto the hook. Her wrist was drapped higher. 
There was no slack in her body. 

Linda rubbed the fingertips of her left hand together. She could feel them 
... not well, but she could feel the pressure of skin against skin. The 
three inches of chain linking the cuffs allowed her to swing her left hand 
from slightly in front of the hook to the wall and back again. The cuff on 
her left wrist slipped around, recutting the raw line, but the right cuff 
was jammed solid. I'd better do it before I start passing out again, she 
decided. Linda took a deep breath. 

The swelling flex of her ribs made the cuff tighten. The muscle in her calf 
ached. She exhaled, pushing all the air out of her lungs, and gained perhaps 
a quarter-inch. Linda turned her left hand around and grasped her right 
wrist. Her knees drew up as she pulled herself of the floor. 

Every ounce of her strength went into the straining muscles of her arms. 
Linda trembled, weak as water. She wanted to stop, to gather energy for 
another try, but knew that her fatigued arms would never regain the strength 
that was ebbing so rapidly. The tremble in her arms became a shudder. She 
found the hook with her left hand. Both arms tightened. She turned sideways, 
dangling from her right hand like a Christmass-tree ornament. Reaching up 
and across her body with her left hand, she pushed her right arm higher. 

The handcuff moved up the hook! Linda felt the wrought iron crumbling, 
showering scales of rust into the raw slash around her wrist. She pushed at 
the steel ring with her left thumb, urging it higher, higher. Her elbows 
were bent just less than forty degrees. Her strength faded. She felt it 
leaving like water pouring from a leaky bucket, but the leaverage of muscle 
against bone improved as she dragged herself higher. Circulation was already 
returning to her right hand. Agony returned with it. From the wrist to the 
middle of her palm was an enormous ache, a pain as heavy and dull and 
relentless as a hammer-smashed molar. Her left hand started slipping, scales 
of ancient rust tearing her soft palm. Her pulse roared in her ears. Linda 
didn't dare breathe. Dread of falling back onto the cruel hook hit her like 
the lightning lance of pain the hook had sent up her arm. A skin-chilling 
jolt of adrenalin helped herself upward another inch. Her arm was free. 
Linda exulted. She felt in a heap at the base of the wall and sobbed with 
exhausted joy. 

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Linda froze. She held her breath 
until the confident crunch of boots died away. When the cell was silent 
again, she rubbed her ankles, checking the shackles that held her legs, how 
can I run with these? How can I get away? she wondered. I don't even know 
how to get out of the building! 

She wondered if she should try the door. Linda waited for her overstrained 
muscles to stop trembling, then stood slowly. Her skin crawled with every 
scrape of the leg irons on the stone floor. Linda put her cuffed hands in 
front of her and felt for the wall. The door was not far from the far end of 
the tiny cell. She slid her feet carefully along the floor. The cell seemed 
much larger in the dark. She moved forward further and further. A 
half-remembered thought nagged at her. Handcuffs, handcuffs.... 

She touched the wall. Linda began moving to her left, patting for the 
corner. It was at a carnival. The magician had handcuffs, and Daddy said ... 
Yes! Linda touched the corner just as she remembered. Without an instant's 
hesitation, the tall redhead balled her fists and swung the handcuffs 
against the stone wall. The steel cuff on her right hand snapped open. 

The footsteps in the corridor returned. A keyring jangled. Linda swore under 
her breath and snapped the cuff on her wrist again. As the heavy iron door 
scraped open she stepped back and sat down. Lieutenant Guitierrez stepped in 
with a soldier and another prisoner, a middle-aged man, behind him. "Ay, 
estaes una bruja, una 'Oudini!"he laughed, pointing to Linda. The soldier 
smiled, but the prisoner's face stayed stonily immobile. The lieutenant 
gestured sharply. "Come, we take you to see coronet Almieda once again." 

This time, with the lietuenant and the other two men watching her, Linda was 
more aware of her aches and pains. In her hurry, she'd tightened the right 
handcuff too far, and it hurt her wrist nearly as much as when she'd been 
left on the hook. Every bloody dot from the colonel's whip, every bruise 
from the lieutenant's hands, even the tight, scaly smears of semen on her 
thighs hurt when Linda clanked into the corridor. "Lieutenant...." Linda 
began. 

"Silence! The colonel has asked for you. You will be interrogated until you 
have told us all you know," Lieutenant Guitierrez snapped. With a smirk, he 
added, "We find our resources sometimes meet more than one need." 

Linda was scared half to death by the lieutenant's cruel smile. The glint of 
some obscene anticipation showed in his eyes as he led the little party 
along the corridors. They bypassed the door where Linda thought the office 
was, and went up another flight of stairs. The door they finally stopped at 
was centuries newer then the portal to the colonel's office. Linda hung back 
after the soldier and the middle-aged prisoner had stepped in. "What ... 
what are you going to do to me?" 

Lieutenant Guitierrez took the naked redhead's arm and pushed her into the 
room. He shoved her at the soldier, who tripped her. The shackles on her 
feet loosened. "Walk to the table," Guitierrez comannded. 

It looked like a doctor's examining table without upholstery. The top was a 
single slab of stained wood growing out of a heavy metal base. "Lie down." 

Linda lay down, her head turning from side to side. The lieutenant prodded 
her with his swagger stick. "On your face, Miss Martin." She rolled over 
reluctantly. Her heart was already pounding like a triphammer. She wanted 
nothing more than to disappear, to sink right through the stained wood and 
melt through the floor. Hands grasped her ankles and pulled. With the cuffs 
still on her wrists, Linda tried grabbing the top edge of the table, but it 
was useless. She bent over the edge of the table, her asscheeks presented 
lewdly. A metallic click at each side trapped her ankles in looser clamps 
than she'd worn before, but there was no chance of escape. Her feet were 
nearly a yard apart. The lieutenant barked an order. The soldier undid the 
left handcuff and pulled it under the table. He pulled Linda's right hand 
down and relocked the cuffs. Now she hugged the table like a huge life 
preserver. "Please, this isn't funny," Linda said. "I didn't do anything!" 

Colonel Almieda strolled in from the next room. A huge mirror covered all 
but the doorway in that wall, and Linda saw how abject, yet somehow erotic, 
her position was. "Ahhh, but you did! You conspired to aid the Marxists who 
are trying to take over Cuba. You worked to enslave our people, Miss 
Martin!" 

"Please, Colonel this isn't fair! The lieutenant won't listen to me! I don't 
know who told you what, but I ... I'm just a tourist! Please, plesse let me 
go! I'll go straight back to Key West and fly home if you just let me go!" 

"Prepare the man," Almieda said. Linda folowed his image in the mirror as 
Guitierrez and the soldier stripped the other prisoner naked. The colonel 
drew a tube from the breast pocket of his tunic. Linda felt a vulgar 
revulsion crawl along her flesh as a thick, greasy finger smeared a 
jelly-like lubricant along her asscleft. The colonel slipped two fingers 
into her vagina and massaged the dry hole with obscene lasciviousness. 

Linda gritted her teeth. She willed her body not to respond. That heavy, 
gluey slime on the colonel's finger felt much thicker, more revolting than 
cunt juice. Her pussy began to lubricate around the sliding fingers in spite 
of her wishes. Linda tried clenching her asscheeks together, but the 
colonel's thumb eased into the cleft with a slippery motion, then pressed 
against the ring of her anus. 

Linda wanted to gag. At first when the lieutenant, then the colonel, had 
handled her pussy, she'd been afraid. Her virginity was gone now, along with 
most of her modesty, but having a thumb writhing so degradingly into her ass 
was the ultimate indignity. She felt defiled, filthy, as if there were no 
reason in the world to live now. The burden of her shame crushed her down 
onto the table until she involuntarily let her buttocks go slack. That 
obscene fullness in her rectum disapperared. Linda heayed a sigh of relief. 

Guitierrez and the soldier led the prisoner to the head of the table. The 
colonel spoke for them, but the sadistic gleam in the lieutenant's eyes told 
Linda that he'd had a hand in planning whatever was about to happen. She 
looked at the tight thong of leather knotted at the base of the man's cock 
and her pussy hurt in sympathy. 

"You see this man in front of you, Miss Martin?" Almieda asked. "He will not 
lose his erection for a long time, not with that cord around him. I want you 
to see him and realize how he is tied. You see how the cord disappears 
between his legs? It is attached to his handcuffs. He must bend backward to 
relieve the strangulation of his penis. If you answer us, we will let him 
go. If you do not ... well, his wife can prostitute herself to feed the 
children." Almieda smiled broadly. "She is not very attractive. Who knows 
what could happen to such a one?" 

Linda closed her eyes tight, but the image f the naked frightened-looking 
man, and especially his swollen, blood-gorged cock, stayed in her vison. 
"What do you want to know?" she quavered. 

"You already know the questions. Just answer them," the colonel said. "Tell 
us here you were to meet the rebel contact, and who he is." 

Linda thought, I'll lie ... they won't know. I'll tell them something, and 
they'll let him go. She cast about in her memory, trying to remember a 
Cuban-sounding name. Her mind was blank! 

Linda got panicky. "Uuhh ... His name ... I don't know his real name, but he 
said his name was ... Frank." Damn! That doesn't sound good! 

With a whistling roar, heavy strap lashed across the backs of Linda's 
thighs. "Aiee!" she screamed. The bound man in front of her looked ready to 
pass out. 

"Frank what?" Guitierrez asked. He popped the strap in the air. 

Linda looked wildly toward the mirror and saw the lieutenant's arm already 
cocked for the next blow. "Pie .. pie something, Frank Pie-" 

Slash! Another double-handed stroke of the strap set fire to the whole of 
her left asscheek. Linda jerked at her bonds in a spasm of pain. She got 
just far enough off the table to pinch her breasts cruelly when she fell 
forward again. Her nipples were trapped, and pointing up toward her 
shoulders. 

"Don't lie, Miss Martin," Colonel Almieda said softly. "Frank Pais has been 
dead a long while." 

Yes, and no one but a leftist would know his name," Guitierrez added He laid 
four harsh strokes of the strap across Linda's ass, covering half of one 
cheek with each slap. Even the soft indentation of her cuntmouth felt the 
heat and pain of the blows. 

Linda gasped for air. Tears ran down her cheeks. The whole area from her 
thighs to the small of her back felt like it was on fire. The smaller cuts 
and welts of the buggy whip awakened and added their own clamoring pain to 
the heat of her skin. "He said it was his name," Linda wept. "That's what he 
told me!" She stared up at the colonel, then at the throbbing purple head of 
the other prisoner's trapped cock. 

"At least she admits to having a contact," the soldier volunteered. "What 
about this one?" 

Linda turned her head to the side. She closed her eyes. An exact stroke down 
the center of her asscleft stung, and she bolted upright as far as she 
could. "Watch the prisoner," the lieutenant said. "You're killing him by 
lying to us." 

The pain in her pussy and her ass was incredible. The last blow of the strap 
had caught the rim of her asshole and pulled it downward, almost tearing the 
little ring away. The grease on her rectum and pussylips seemed to amplify 
the sting, smothering the skin that needed a bath of cool air. Linda felt 
her cuntlips swelling up after the impact. She begged silently for relief. 

"Yes, this one might be of some help," the colonel mused. "Take him around 
behind her." , At least he's not watching my face, Linda thought. The 
resigned sadness of the man's eyes made her feel guilty, as if she truly 
were responsible for his arrest and his bondage. He looks like he expects to 
die here! Linda marveled. He's not even fighting back! 

"Now, Miss Martin, would you like to tell us the real name of your contact?" 
the colonel asked. Almieda stared down at Linda for a moment, then grabbed a 
fistful of long red hair and pulled her head up. 

Linda's scalp and neck crawled with agonizing pain. It felt like the colonel 
wanted to tear her head off. "He said Frank ... Frank Pais!" she whimpered. 
The colonel yanked her hair forward, chopping off Linda's next words. The 
impact of her chin against the table nearly knocked her out. Linda bit a 
shred of flesh out of her cheek, and the chewed portion swelled from the 
chin-blow, and when that faded, tears blurred everything in the room ... 
everything but Almieda's voice and the next slashing stroke of the lash. 

"Where? Where were you to meet?" the colonel asked. His raspy voice was 
growing louder, with th same breathy overtones he'd showed when he began 
torturing her with the limber silk buggy whip. He gestured, and Guitierrez 
swung the strap. 

The red heat of pain in her crotch merged with the heavy sound of a wounded 
moan. Linda didn't realize i hadn't been hers until she saw the reflection 
of the prisoner. The man hobbled back and forth. A raw welt along the side 
of his glossy-hard cock showed where the strap had hit. Every time he 
convulsively tried to grab for his prick, the cord around the base tightened 
Every tug on the cord made him bend backward, and his injured cock stood out 
further and straighter from his belly. A weepy line of blood oozed from the 
side of his shaft. The strap had barely broken the skin over one of the 
swollen veins, and the fresh blood was bright against the darkening 
reddish-purple of his cock. 

Empathy for the other prisoner's pain made Linda's pussy ache. The heat from 
the blows of the strap made the ache heighten until she felt the 
unmistakable trickle of cuntcream moistening her labia. She felt shame and 
self-hatred Linda wished they would kill her. Even lying to the Cuban 
officers didn't help ... they went on punishing her and the terrified 
prisoner anyway. 

"Well, Miss Martin?" the colonel asked. "Don't think we will grow tired 
enough to kill either of you. I have rested and eaten since we saw one 
another last. Where were you to join the rebels?" 

Linda watched Guitierrez raise the strap high, ready to slash down across 
the rigid spear of the prisoner's cock. "The taxi! The taxidriver was going 
to take me to them!" 

The colonel nodded and Guitierrez slashed two more strokes down the exact 
center of Linda's ass. She jerked and sobbed. "Please! Oh, God, please, 
Colonel! I told you! It was the taxi driver!" 

Almieda jerked his head. Linda watched the mirror in fascinated revulsion. 
Guitierrez pushed the prisoner up against the table, shoving his shoulders 
with the heel of his hand. The man winced, then arched his back reflexively. 
Linda felt the hard heat of his strangling prick jab against her tailbone. 
She hugged the table closer. 

The grease in her ass cleft made the touch loathsome. A chill went up her 
spine, and Linda felt her nipples begin to throb. No! Not with them looking 
on! My God, they will! They're going to watch! "Colonel! I can't! Please, 
for the love of Christ, Colonel!" she sobbed. Linda squeezed her eyelids 
together until her nose and forehead wrinkled with the effort. The trickle 
of juice in her pussy became a river. The degraded notion of having the 
prisoner fuck her while her captors looked on aroused her body incredibly. 
Linda shook her head. 

Guitierrez was gesturing and whispering to the prisoner. Linda felt the 
colonel grab her hair again. She opened her eyes. Her head twisted painfully 
toward the mirror. They were going to do it, there was no doubt. She tried 
to move her ass from side to side, evading the approach of the prisoner's 
prick, but Guitierrez stopped her with a painful gouge of fingers into the 
soft glove of her left asscheek. 

The knob of the prisoner's cock felt horribly hard, like a stone helmet at 
the end of his meat. Linda felt it stab against her pussy. Her vagina gushed 
warmth. The knob slid up to the narrow slot between her holes, then pushed 
against the whip-bruised oval of her rectum. Linda picked herself higher on 
the table. The cockhead moved up with her. The realization hit. 

"NO-OOOO!" she wailed, squirming back and forth like a trapped animal. 
"GAWD, NOOOOO!" Linda jerked her hips until her belly slapped up and down on 
the tabletop. She broke free of the lieutenant's ass-grip. The soldier moved 
down, blocking her view in the mirror, and held her. Both of his elbows dug 
into the small of her back. 

She was imprisoned, with the dull ache of arms gouging into the muscles next 
to her spine. Linda kicked against the fixed shackles on the floor. She 
tried to hammer her handcuffs against the bottom of the table. The colonel 
grabbed her head in both hands. She tried to bite him. He wrestled until her 
face was toward the mirror again. 

Guitierrez stood behind the prisoner, one hand on the man's shoulders. The 
lieutenant's other hand was at the small of the man's back. Linda couldn't 
stop watching. Guitierrez pulled the slack out of the cock-tying cord and 
pushed the prisoner forward. The enlisted man braced Linda's hips. 

With a sudden lance of pain that pierced to her guts, the head of the 
prisoner's cock found her asshole again and shoved against it. Linda 
screamed. 

The laughter of Colonel Alieda and the muttered curses of the lieutenant 
assaulted her ears. Linda was on fire, a fire of agony that started in her 
asshole and tore clear up to her brain. 

"Take it, Miss Martin! Maybe you will stop giving us your shitty lies when 
this peasant's cock rams your shit back in you!" Almieda laughed again and 
released her head. 

Linda screamed louder. The whole tight ring of her rectum was being driven 
up into her guts. The tearing, ripping, utterly horrendous pain was all 
around her asshole, inside and out. It felt like a dull chisel was carving 
the band of muscle out. The pressure on her back added to the pain when the 
enlisted man bore down, leaning to watch the penetration. 

The pressure against her asshole eased for a moment. Linda relaxed the 
agonized tightness of her sphincter. She pushed futilely outward, as if she 
could shove the prisoner's cock away by an act of will. 

Guitierrez reached around the prisoner with one hand and put his fingers in 
her asscleft. Linda wept at the abusive touch. He spread the tissues of her 
rectum wider. She saw that his knee was braced against the prisoner's 
buttocks. She let her ass-forcing push against the cockhead slacken for an 
instant. 

Rock-hard cockmeat shoved against her asshole. Before Linda could even think 
to loosen the automatic grip of her ass, half the blunt knob was already 
shoved into her ass. The top and bottom edges of her rectum were ripping 
wide open. Her cunt ached with frustration, drooling wetness while the 
prisoner's prick invaded the wrong hole. She almost cried out, "No, not 
there, please ... I need it in my pussy!" 

The sensitive ring of her asshole felt an obscene slickness. It was the 
man's foreskin peeling back. The shoulders of the head felt slipperier when 
the hood retracted. Another fraction of cock slipped into her ass. Trying to 
ease the pain, Linda loosened her asshole. She pressed outward to let him 
enter more easily. 

Guitierrez slipped his hand down until his forefinger was against one side 
of her asshole and his thumb against the other. He spread her further. Linda 
moaned. 

The colonel wasn't content just to watch. He reached down the front of 
Linda's torso and captured the end of one of her tits. His sweaty hand found 
the bruised, beaten mound, then twisted the nipple. Linda gasped. She tried 
to squirm away from the throbbing ache of her tweaked nipple, and her ass 
moved back toward the prisoner. 

The hard intrusion of prickmeat into her ass hurt terribly. Linda tried to 
move as sensuously, as erotically as she could. Maybe, she thought, maybe I 
can make him move gently ... maybe Guitierrez won't make him push quite so 
hard. Or maybe I could get my pussy up to him ... She wriggled, and another 
portion of cockhead slipped into her shitter. 

It was splitting her ass wide open. Linda felt the pain of the insertion 
reaching higher in her ass, spreading clear to the outer edges of her 
buttocks. Even Almieda's brutal fucking had been easier on her than this. At 
least he used an orifice that Linda wanted filled ... even if he did have to 
whip them both into a frenzy first.... 

The widening head of the prisoner's cock seemed to go on forever. Linda 
wept, and the salty tears burned her cracked, parched lips. She couldn't 
even lever her ass around properly, not with the weight of the ogling 
enlisted man holding her belly to the table. She wondered if a faster 
piercing would hurt less ... if she could stop the pain by ramming her ass 
back against his cockhead. 

It was hard to think, hard even to control her body with the lieutenant 
stretching her asshole with his fingertips and the colonel torturing her 
nipples. He'd managed to capture both of her titty-tips in one hand now, and 
he pulled them cruelly. He twisted and pinched. His fingernails traced 
furrows of fire on the sensitive rims. Linda wished they'd leave her alone, 
stop tormenting so many erotic nerves, at least until the prisoner's cock 
was lodged in her asshole. She moaned low in her confused overload of 
sensation. Linda was positive that her nipples gushed blood over the 
colonel's hands. The mauling in her tits hurt so badly that she almost 
forgot about her ass. 

But Guitierrez and the prisoner hadn't forgotten. The lieutenant shifted his 
foot and shoved. With a sickening pop, the head of the prisoner's cock 
squirted the rest of the way into her ass. Linda felt the tearing agony of 
the penetration. She jerked spasmodically. Every muscle in her body went 
limp. The pressure eased at last. Now she was only stretched around the neck 
of his prick. It was at rest in her rectum. 

Her arms and legs tightened as if she'd been blasted with a cattle prod. 
Linda felt a horrible suction, like a vacuum pulling at her guts. Guitierrez 
pulled the prisoner back, and the reversed pressure seemed to tug all the 
way to Linda's throat. The vulgar feeling sent flashes of repelled lewdness 
up her spine. Linda didn't know whether to revel in the relief or weep at 
the thought of losing that ass-filling knob. She bit her lip. 

Linda couldn't even sob now, not with the insistent motions of the 
prisoner's cock up her asshole. She pushed her buttocks back toward him, 
seeking his prick again, knowing it could stop the wrenching vacuum in her 
bowels. 

The prisoner paused, then shoved further in. Linda squeaked. The motion sent 
her pussy into tremors of lusty need. The folding, slippery ring of his 
foreskin massaged the sensuous nerves of her asshole like a tiny mouth. It 
felt like a lascivious kiss between the hard bar of prick and the stretching 
attack of the lieutenant's fingers. 

Linda was torn, both in her mind and her assflesh. She twisted her shoulders 
against the colonel's marauding hand. The pain from the tortured buttons of 
her nipples added to the heat in her crotch. The firm, round globes of her 
ass flexed back toward the prisoner's string-wrapped prick, seeking more of 
that lewd fullness. Linda looked at the mirror again, wishing the enlisted 
soldier would move and give her a better view. 

The sliding of the prisoner's prick sent shivery thrills up and down Linda's 
spine as it moved deeper into her guts. Linda felt her ass filling with the 
man's prick. It was like a load of lusty, iron-hard heat growing in her. She 
thought his prick surely had to stop ... there couldn't possibly be as much 
meat there as her asshole seemed to feel. 

But after the head and the foreskin entered her ass, the prick slid further 
and further. Linda's rectal nerves were so sensitive that it felt like a 
freight train of cock coming into her ass. She imagined the angry-red bar of 
meat growing until she split around it like a ripe melon. She had flashing 
images of a tree trunk impaling her. 

The steady slide of the prisoner's cock eased. Linda felt his belly on her 
asscheeks. That must be all of it. He has to be all the way into me now. 
Linda sighed gustily. 

The prisoner's cock started withdrawing again. Linda thought at least a foot 
of prick emerged from her ass. The nerves of her asshole protested every 
inch. 

He started forward again. Linda pressed back against him. Her hips rose. The 
strange, erogenous fullness in her bowels began to excite her. It wasn't 
like the heat that rose in her belly when her cunt was full of prick, but it 
was somehow connected to similar nerves. It was a sensation all its own, 
with the sheer ungodly evil of the perversion and the leers of the three 
spectators adding a lusty spice to the feelings. 

The prisoner's cock went deeper. It passed the zone where the last stroke 
had stopped. Linda inhaled. Her breath filled her torso and pressed her 
insides down against the deep-diving cockhead. The knob went up and up, 
filling her until she felt rigid heat sliding clear to her breasts. The 
incredible distension of her asstube made her belly feel full for the first 
time since she'd been jailed. 

It was like gorging at a feast, a perversely lusty feast of cockflesh. Linda 
thought her belly would swell to bursting. The heat in her asshole echoed 
against the stuffed-full feelings in her belly. Streamers of weird need 
filled her mind. In spite of the stretching pain, Linda wanted more of his 
cock in her ass. She wished it really were a tree trunk impaling her. 

He pulled back again, with Linda's insides trying to follow his cockhead. 
Linda felt the lewd suction in her ass. It was about to drive her insane. 

The speed of the ass-reaming strokes increased. Linda squeezed down onto the 
prisoner's cock. She wanted to feel it more, drag more lusty sensuality out 
of the contact. She didn't care about the pain now, the tearing sensation, 
the elbows in her back, the torturous mauling of her tits. All she wanted 
was that cock, that massively stiff bar of meat. Linda needed to feel it 
drive in, deeper, deeper. A spinning ball of heat in her assguts joined the 
prick-jammed fullness. She moaned. 

The leather-tied prickmeat had unnatural stamina. The prisoner, aided by 
Guitierrez' shoves, thrust back and forth faster. Linda met his eyes in the 
mirror. Her mouth dropped open, pleading for him to flog more cock into her. 

The lieutenant let go of the prisoner. He found the strap again. Linda felt 
awe and horror as the prisoner, unaided, kept his piledriver rhythm going in 
her asshole. The tissues of her asschute were on fire, ready to melt around 
his meat. The hot friction was like salt in an open wound. Linda writhed, 
letting the pain excite her more. The prisoner's balls began slapping 
against the fevered slash of her drooling pussy, and Linda knew she would 
come. 

Her cuntlips dragged back and forth on her clit. Heat sliced into the 
whipwelts on her pussy. The cunty tension built rapidly. Her clit was as 
important now as the ramming piston of cock in her asshole. 

The meaty slap of his sac on her cunt made Linda gargle with confused lust. 
Every nerve in her crotch was on fire. It was all she could do to keep up 
with his strokes. Linda tried timing the frantic spasms of her hips to the 
sound of the strap on the prisoner's ass, but it was no good. Her pussy and 
her asshole dominated her completely. 

The mirror showed flashes of Guitierrez winding up with the strap, then 
lashing down across the prisoner's ass. Every blow of the heavy leather 
drove the man's cock forward into her asshole. Every jerk of his body made 
his cock harder. The leather thong was buried in the swollen flesh at the 
base of his prick. Guitierrez flogged mercilessly, and the prisoner fucked 
to save his life. 

And Linda started to come. She felt the fiery scald of his ballsweat on her 
pussy, the flaming friction of his cock in her asshole. The ridges of bony 
stiffness along the sides of his shaft washboarded along her asshole. The 
whole hot, sloshing zone of her cunt and ass vibrated to the heavy thrumming 
of his meat. 

Slap! Slap! The sound of the strap and the swing of the prisoner's balls 
against her cunt merged. Linda felt the orgasm in her asshole increase. Her 
cunt sucked air, winking open and closing again like a red-lined camera 
shutter. The peak approached, then threw waves of release along her nerves, 
but still the prisoner fucked at her asshole. 

Linda wanted to scream, but she couldn't even breathe. The ramming 
fuckstrokes of the prisoner's cock bounced her pelvis against the edge of 
the table. The enlisted man's weight mashed her down onto the wood. The 
colonel was tearing her nipples off. Guitierrez whipped the prisoner faster 
and harder. The big empty room echoed with the constant slap, slap, slap of 
leather on the man's ass and the man's belly on Linda. His balls flogged 
cream out of her cunt, spattering the oily juice along her thighs, spraying 
dribbling fluid onto the floor. 

Between sweat and assgrease and cuntal cream, Linda's whole body was slick 
as a seal's. She squirmed, and the tabletop was wet. She bucked, and the 
meaty sound of the prisoner's belly on her ass slapped like a fish on water. 
Linda panted, and she sounded like a chugging locomotive. She twisted like a 
worm on a hook, milking sensation from his cock and balls as if her life 
depended on it. 

In spite of the slashing blows of the strap, the prisoner slowed. The meaty 
bar of captive prick in her asshole swelled even larger. The velvety walls 
of her asstube felt his glans flare wider. With another slap of his belly on 
her ass, Linda felt the knob hit something deep inside her bowels. The kink 
at the top of the tube felt like a dozen knives carved into it. The lining 
of her ass stretched obscenely toward her lungs. It pulled from the mouth of 
her asshole upward. It was lost in her middle. The tearing in her guts 
accelerated her second charge of orgasmic feeling. Linda wanted it all to 
crest at once, the pain in her tits, the juicy, ball-slapped sliding of her 
cuntlips on her clit, the piercing, reaming, ramming thrusts of the prick in 
her ass. 

The prisoner grunted. The load of heat in his prick forced him to slow. Not 
even the two-handed slashes of the lieutenant's strap could make him move 
faster. His prick pulled outward. Linda's guts sucked down behind the knob. 
Only the head of the prisoner's cock stayed in her asshole. The flaring 
wings of his glans pulled against the inside of her rectum, urging her 
innards out. Linda hunched her ass back and forth in hurried, fluttering 
strokes. Every tug against the mouth of her asshole made the tension in her 
belly increase. 

With a bestial grunt, the prisoner shoved more cock deep into her ass. The 
lining tore deep inside Linda's belly. The prickhead hit the kink inside 
like a freight train smashing into the side of a mountain. Linda screamed 
with the cataclysmic force of the explosion in her ass. 

Thick, spurting masses of come conquered the thong around the man's prick. 
They hit the tortured lining of Linda's asshole like jets of liquid fire. 
Linda's cunt spasmed shut, clenching down on aching emptiness. Her asshole 
wrung at the pounding mass of the prisoner's cock. Linda went into cunty 
convulsions, twisting and writhing like a madwoman under the weight of the 
enlisted soldier. The prisoner still rammed at her flailing ass. 

And the colonel still tortured her tits. His fingers dug into the sides of 
the mounds, bruising the tender tissues. Linda beat her head against the 
table. She felt bruises rising, but they were nothing compared to the heat 
in her ass and the spasming hunger in her cunt. 

The lightning jolts of heat in her cunt amplified the fury in her ass. 
Linda's mind centered in the three hot spots of her crotch. Her clit shot 
rockets of heat along her nerves. Her cunthole screamed for prick. Her ass 
wrenched around the hard, hot jerks of the prisoner's cock. 

With a whistling underhand slash, the strap curled under her belly. The wide 
leather band mashed her cuntlips around her clit. Stars burst in Linda's 
brain. The shattering addition to her orgasm made her sure she was dead. No 
body could stand the excess of pained pleasure that her loins quivered 
against. She curled away from the table. The cuffs dug into her wrists. Her 
bruised tits showed, and the colonel slapped at the mounds. The prisoner's 
cock started to pull out. 

"Nooooo!" Linda wailed. She needed that prick, needed the fullness in her 
ass, at least until the awesome waves of her come let her go. The whole 
unnatural process was wasted if she couldn't squeeze her asstube around the 
still-dribbling meat. 

The outward motion stopped. Just for a moment, a last drop of sperm forced 
the prisoner to shove forward again. The ringing slap of the whip against 
her cunt and the prisoner's balls made him fall away. 

Linda screamed and wailed. Rage and frustration filled her. She kept coming. 
The smashing rhythms of her orgasm were broken. The hot signals overloaded 
her system. Her brain rebelled. 

The wide flare of the knob had tugged her asshole outward. She tried to keep 
the lascivious heat of that instant in her mind. Linda spat curses at the 
colonel, at the prisoner, at everyone and everything that came to mind. Her 
asshole still fluttered, as empty now as her cunt. She jerked uselessly. 
Guitierrez pulled the man away. Linda pounded her chained body against the 
table. 

Slowly, her shackled legs relaxed. Her arms straightened, dangling in the 
handcuffs. Her whole body sagged, stretched by gravity into a puddle of 
sweaty, come-filled flesh. The angry red faded from her pussymouth and the 
sides of her rectum. When at last the colonel unhanded her tits, Linda was 
deserted. A bubble of air escaped from her cunt. Semen trickled to fill her 
clit-fold. Linda's sobs faded and she passed into the sleep of total 
exhaustion. She never felt the handcuffs loosen or the hands that carried 
her back to her cell. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

The sun shone in again through the tiny window when Linda heard the door 
open. Shame that made her want to vomit swept over her. How could I ... how 
could I have done that? she gagged. 

Wait! I didn't have anything to do with it! They forced me! As the 
lieutenant strode in, Lump-nose behind him, a change came over Linda's 
thoughts. I've been forced into it all along! I never would have let even 
Judy touch me if I hadn't been so drunk! 

Linda let them drag her off the floor like the puppet she felt herself to 
be. She was afraid to look at Guitierrez. If he saw the murderous hatred in 
her face! 

And after Judy ... this one! This bastard, this petty tyrant! God, if I ever 
get a chance! A t least his boss, the colonel, seemed to get some pleasure 
out of it! Guitierrez only flicked me to punish me!" 

Yes! Fucked me, badly, at that. That hand on my pussy, the way he dragged me 
out on the chain until I thought my arms would break! He doesn't hate me 
because I'm American ... he hates me because I'm a girl! It doesn't have 
anything to do with their rotten little war ... he saw a chance to hurt 
someone, and he picked me! Linda limped along the corridor between the two 
men, trying to conjure up a plan, any plan that involved the slow, painful 
death of Lieutenant Guitierrez. Images of knives and red-hot pokers made her 
smile. She dragged her feet, prolonging the walk to whatever new doom the 
Cubans had thought up for her. Lost in her reverie, Linda stubbed her toes 
on a stone step. "Oww!" she moaned. As if she didn't hurt badly enough, her 
own daydreams had nearly broken her toes. 

"Silence! We must hurry," the lieutenant said. "You must bathe and have your 
wounds attended before your employer sees you." With a smirk that confused 
Linda even more than his words, he added, "We do not want the reputation of 
damaging the goods of our North American allies." Guitierrez led her and the 
putty-nosed solider down the hallway at a near-trot. 

Even though it was the middle of the morning, the old stable Linda found 
herself led to was filled with lanterns. The few tacked-on electric lights 
on the wall of the building didn't shed enough light for the cooking and 
washing tha( a half-dozen peasant women worked stolidly at. The smell of 
simmering beans, spices, and salt port and the cutting scent of medicines 
filled the courtyard. A woman in her forties or fifties gave Linda a 
valvanized bucket of warm water, a sliver of soap, and a grey-white section 
of threadbare cloth. Linda stood slumped in her chains. Did they expect her 
to wash here, in the middle of the courtyard? 

Lieutenant Guitierrez growled an order to the soldier, who rushed off 
busily. "There is not much time," he said, unlocking Linda's handcuffs. He 
bent to use a heavier key on the leg irons, then gave her a backhanded swat 
on the ass when he straightened. 

That familiarity insulting familiarity restarted the slow rage burning in 
Linda's guts. It fueled on the hunger that the cooking smells had awakened. 
The redhead set her teeth grimly and began dabbing water on her breasts and 
belly. She ignored the glances of the barracks cooks and the comments of the 
soldiers lining up for messcall. Linda twisted this way and that, washing 
the blood flecks from her buttocks, scrubbing the comespots from her thighs. 
It would have been easier to reach between her thighs to wash the 
underleases of her asscheeks, but Linda felt strength and agility returning 
to her tortured muscles with every calisthenic twist of her torso. She tried 
to flex every limb and tendon, weighing her chances. She hefted the metal 
bucket surreptitiously. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it might do. She 
kept her head down, sneaking glances through the tangled strands of hair 
over her face. The open end of the courtyard was nearly fifty yards away, 
and the two dozen soldiers stood between her and whatever lay outside. Linda 
had started re-soaping her arms when Guitierrez snapped, "Enough!" and took 
the sliver of laundry soap away. He spun Linda around by the shoulder and 
marched her across the courtyard. 

The other wing of the barracks was more open, with idling soldiers and 
civilians mingling in the corridors. Linda scarcely had time to know where 
she was going before she was thrust into a small, bare room and left alone. 

Now that she knew how fragile the handcuffs were, Linda wished she were 
still shackled by the wrists. At least she would have a flimsy weapon, 
better than no weapon at all. All she needed after that was clothing and a 
chance to run. She paced back and forth, sweeping her hair away from her 
face with both hands. They're getting sloppy with me. I have to be ready! 

The room was three paces deep and four paces across. The latch scraped. 
Linda forced herself to look cowed. She slumped her shoulders and tried to 
hide her breasts and pussy with her hands. Adrenalin pumped surges of blood 
to her muscles. She hoped that the blush of anger and tension on her face 
could be mistaken for embarrassment. She wiggled her bare toes against the 
stone floor, mentally rehearsing a leap for the door. 

Guitierrez held the door open for a swarthy, sport-shirted American. The 
American grinned, then shook his head. "Nah, Paco, she ain't mine, but I 
will give ya, oh, fifteen hundred bucks for her." He stepped in and cupped 
Linda's chin in his palm. "Fine-lookin' piece, Paco. You been dippin' inta 
this'un?" He ran an appraising hand over Linda's breasts and down along the 
firm, supple curve of her waist. 

The Lieutenant's face was simultaneously greedy and cold. "If she is not 
yours, she is not for sale, Mister Meyers. She is due for more 
interrogation." 

Meyers turned Linda around with one strong hand on her shoulder. "Looks like 
Colonel Almieda already questioned her. I tell you what ... two grand for 
the colonel, and fifty grams of snow-white for you." He glanced at 
Lieutenant Guitierrez, then added, "Hey, Paco, she's no use to you. If 
Almieda didn't get her to talk yet, she don' know nothin'. At least I got a 
use for her." 

Linda didn't know what to think. She looked from Guitierrez' wavering 
expression to Meyers' easy, toothy grin. Meyers seemed as friendly as a 
used-car salesman, but a hard edge underlay his smile and his drawl. She 
found herself hoping the lieutenant didn't want the "snow-white", whatever 
it was. 

"No, I cannot do it," Guitierrez said regretfully. "She is a Castrista, and 
we must find her contacts. Besides, she would not be good for you. She is a 
... como se dice? A woman-lover." 

"A dyke? So? Our girls don' fuck for love, Paco. If she is a rebel, we'll 
have her out of the country before noon and solve that problem for you, too. 
Whaddya say seventy-five grams, and I'll tell Almieda it was fifty?" He 
raised his eyebrows hopefully, then shrugged. "Okay. Gimme a call when 
you're done with her." He started for the door. 

Linda felt as if a sword had been removed from above her head. Guitierrez 
followed the American out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind 
him. The sudden letdown left her weak as a newborn kitten. Linda lowered 
herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. What had she escaped from? Why did 
the Cubans think she was so important? She stretched out on her side, glad 
to be clean for even a little while. Linda put her arm under her head and 
drew her knees up. If the soldiers had already taken ten thousand dollars 
from Judy's body, why did they turn down two thousand more for Linda's 
ransom? The reasons were too obscure to reason out. Linda brooded and 
wondered. The stone floor was luxury itself as she nodded off. 

The door slammed back against the wall with a splintering crash. Linda 
bolted upright. Guitierrez kicked a short, thickset Cuban into the cell, 
chopping the butt of his forty-five across the back of the man's neck. "Who 
is it?" the lieutenant snapped as the man fell face-down on the stones. 
Colonel Almieda materialized in the doorway. 

Linda jumped back, away from the falling body of the new prisoner. Still 
naked, shaking the sleep from her eyes, she babbled, "I don't know! I can't 
even see his face!" 

Guitierrez almost leapt the four feet to the man's side and kicked savagely 
at his ribs. With a retching groan, he turned over. His mouth and nose were 
covered with blood. The man squeezed his eyes shut in pain, then spit up at 
Guitierrez. He cursed mushily, spraying pink foam. Guitierrez kicked again, 
burying the toe of his heavy boot in the prisoner's armpit. The arm jerked 
spastically, and pain twisted the man into a knot. 

"Who is he, Miss Martin?" Almeida asked calmly. "He was searching the 
condemned wing for una Norteamericana." The colonel pulled a cigar from his 
tunic and amputated the end with a shiny silver device. He rolled it 
obscenely around his mouth before lighting it, then dropped the still-lit 
wooden match onto the prisoner's face. 

"I ... I've never seen him," Linda stammered. She tried to look away, but 
the agonized writhing of the prisoner drew her eye. She moved her feet back 
and forth, torn between gruesome fascination and the urge to get away from 
the wounded man. When the new prisoner looked up at her, his expression made 
Linda's heart pound. She knew she'd never seen him before, but his calm, 
concentrated gaze told Linda that she was indeed the North American he'd 
been looking for. Linda felt trapped and confused, and, because the stranger 
had been looking for her, responsible for him in a way that she couldn't 
figure out. More calmly, she said, "No, I don't know this man. He must have 
been looking for Meyers' other girl." 

Footsteps outside announced another prisoner, hardly more than a boy. Linda 
did recognize the second captive ... he'd been the bellhop at the hotel. Her 
stomach sunk when the boy ignored her too obviously. She looked at the 
colonel, and his smirk made her shiver. He puffed his cigar slowly, rolling 
the smoke around in his mouth, then said, in English, "Strip him, Paco." 

Guitierrez left the older prisoner on the floor and yanked the boy's pants 
down. He tore the rough shirt down the front and peeled it away. Only a few 
strands of dark hair curled around the boy's scrotum, and his egg-smooth 
prick stood out like a flagpole centered in a cement circle. Almieda 
swaggered over and stopped in front of the teenager. "Tell us who the other 
man is, Miss Martin," he said. "We do not like strangers running around in 
our barracks. It upsets the men, and that makes me angry." The colonel's 
voice was calm and light. 

"You see, you have already proved that I can get no real information by 
beating you," Almieda singsonged. "These gentlemen present more interesting 
possibilities." The colonel puffed until the coal at the end of his cigar 
glowed orange. He brushed the ash off on the boy's nipple. 

Linda watched in fascinated horror. "I told you, I don't know him," she 
said, gulping. The repulsive colonel had her hypnotized. She watched the 
cigar travel slowly down the boy's chest, his belly, then circle to a spot 
just beneath his balls. In the utter silence of the stone room, the crackle 
of singeing pubic hair was loud enough to turn Linda's stomach. The boy 
inhaled sharply, still refusing to look at her or the man on the floor. A 
line of red nearly an inch wide showed the slow, almost loving line Almieda 
had traced with the perfecto. A blister already swelled painfully on the 
boy's nipple. The nauseating smell of hair and flesh scorching filled 
Linda's nostrils. She wanted to gag. 

She was about to speak, but the boy glanced stoically at her. She looked at 
the man on the floor. He glared at the colonel, swallowing the spit and 
blood that overflowed his mouth. "Almieda, let the child go," he said, 
slurring slightly. 

"For what? A confession from you, and the real information about Miss 
Martin?" Guitierrez asked, watching the colonel's unwavering cigar and the 
frightened tension in the boy's stance. The little squares of the child's 
belly muscles stood up, and the cords at the top of his thighs looked hard 
as rock. 

"Let him go. He is not a threat," the prisoner repeated. "I will talk to 
you." 

Colonel Almieda turned away from the boy. He shoved the child into the 
corridor, and booted footsteps took him away. "Bueno. Digame, quien es 
Senora Martin? Porque ella es in Cuba?" 

The prisoner closed his eyes, gathering strength to speak again. When the 
guards had taken the bellhop out of earshot, he began, "You can let the girl 
go. She is only a tourist. I was to keep her from following her dead friend, 
her and the rubia, the blonde one." 

Lieutenant Guitierrez broke in. "You are lying! This Linda Martin was the 
leader! The blonde one told me personally ... she was the novia, the 
fiancee, of the dead one!" He glared down at the prisoner. 

The captive had a faint smile on his face when he looked at Guitierrez. "Si, 
si, "he said wearily. "Coronel A Imieda, todos in Havana intienden Paco 
Guitierrez el culo mas grande de Cuba es. Por favor?" 

Linda shrank back in fear at the tight-lipped rage on the lieutenant's face. 
"Teniente!" the colonel snapped. "Silencio!" He checked the lieutenant's 
anger before the biggest asshole in Cuba could explode. "Dame mas," he 
ordered the prisoner. "En Ingles." 

"Gracias, Coronel. I did not think it mattered if they were amigas or 
novias, or disease-scarred whores like the mothers of the Corporals' Junta," 
the prisoner smiled. He slowly sat up, propping himself on his good arm. "I 
knew she had been arrested, and when she did not leave with the whoreseller 
Meyers, I thought I would come to find her. You know me, Coronel, and you 
know I do not act politically. I came here only to see justice done." 

Guitierrez turned his back on the colonel and the prisoner, his jaw 
twitching with rage. The man rose to his feet, still favoring the side where 
the lieutenant had kicked him. He rubbed his ribs, and spoke again. "So, if 
you like, Coronel Almieda, we can go find this child's clothing and I will 
escort her to the docks. The American consular officers are urging their 
citizens to leave Cuba already." 

The colonel's smile was like a fencing foil. His gaze never left the 
prisoner's face. Linda was so engrossed in the two dueling men that she 
barely noticed the fingers wiggling beneath the prisoner's arm. He seemed to 
be gesturing to her. She shifted her feet slightly. "Please, Colonel," she 
began hopefully. 

"Ahh, Carlitos, you are a poetic man," Almieda said, his superior glance 
inviting Linda to watch his rhetoric slice the prisoner's argument to 
shreds. "And, like most poets, you are a liar. It is not simply the jealousy 
of La Rubia that led me to keep Miss Martin in custody. We have evidence, 
enough evidence to have half of Havana executed. If you would like to add to 
our knowledge, perhaps I might allow you and Miss Martin to leave, but I 
already have a very nice offer for her." 

Carlitos let his hand fall to his side. He smiled with lazy satisfaction. 
"The offer certainly comes from someone besides el maricon marveloso, no?" 
He gestured toward Guitierrez' tense back. "Paco!" 

Guitierrez turned. His face had paled, and the effort of self-restraint 
stripped his expression to a hawkish, skull-faced mask of contained fury. 
"Perdoname, boca grande?" 

Slowly and distinctly the prisoner, Carlos said, Quien es su padre, Paco? El 
es un gallo, o una cabra? Lo intiendo la corazon de su madre pompa las 
mierdas de ciente-sesenta perros, pero-" 

With a snarl of distilled rage, the lieutenant leapt at Carlos, brushing the 
colonel aside. Guitierrez' right hand clutched for the butt of his 
automatic, but he was too slow. The finger-waving signals had alerted Linda. 
She jumped across Guitierrez' legs while the colonel was still off-balance, 
slamming her shoulder into his bemedalled chest. Carlos had sidestepped the 
lieutenant, raising one knee into the pit of his stomach as Guitierrez 
charged. 

A hot rush of blood to her head and the memory of the merciless whipping 
Almieda had given her helped Linda crush her heel down on the colonel's 
hand. The smirk on his face was gone now, replaced by a look of anger as hot 
and vicious as Guitierrez' anger had been cold. His mouth opened to shout, 
and Linda swept the sole of her bare foot up in a smooth, swift arc. Her 
heel connected with his chin. Teeth snapped together. The colonel's eyes 
went blank. 

Linda spun around. With a grunt of exertion, Carlos pulled the lieutenant's 
torso off the floor. He set both hands in the diagonal strap of the gunbelt 
and slung the taller man's head into the wall. A thud like a melon hitting a 
sidewalk merged with the sound of Guitierrez' boots sliding on the stone 
floor. Carlos grabbed the pistol from the dead lieutenant's belt and 
snapped, "Come!" 

Linda unsnapped the heavy leather flap of the colonel's holster. The 
ivory-handled grip of a huge revolver jumped into her hand. "How do we get 
out?" Linda asked, waving the pistol frantically. 

Carlos jammed the automatic into his belt. He ripped his shirt open and 
flung it around Linda's shoulders. "Hide the pistol," he said, swiftly 
arranging her arms to hold the shirt over her breasts. The redhead obeyed. 
She held the shirt over her shoulders like a shawl. The barrel of the 
revolver stuck down the left sleeve. "Can you pretend to cry?" he asked. 

Linda nodded. She hunched over, conscious of the nakedness of her loins and 
asscheeks. She watched Carlos shove the automatic deeper into his belt, then 
let him put his arm around her shoulders. The butt of Guitierrez' pistol 
touched the outside of her left thigh. Linda thought of Judy and the torture 
she'd undergone in the prison, and the tears came. 

"Good, very good," Carlos muttered. He had to reach up to pat her shoulders, 
nudging the gun barrel down until it was better hidden. "Don't look at any 
of the soldiers. Walk like you're really weeping." He tugged Linda into the 
hallway, muttering soothing Spanish phrases at her whenever anyone 
approached. 

Linda was crying from fear now. Every pair of booted feet she saw might 
belong to the man who would find the colonel and the lieutenant. She'd never 
shot so much as an air pistol before, and now she had a heavy revolver 
hidden under the only garment slit wore. She listened to the whistles and 
comments of the soldiers and the sounds of doors opening, too scared to see 
where she was. If Carlos hadn't urged her along, she would have sat in the 
middle of the corridor and waited for Batista's soldiers to take her back to 
the dank security of her black cell. 

"Not much further," Carlos cautioned. "Keep your head down." Linda smelled 
fresh air, then squinted. The daylight at the doorway was bright enough to 
blind her like a mole. "A patrol is coming. Lean your head down onto me," 
Carlos whispered. 

Linda bent further, sobbing until she thought she'd piss all over herself. 
The soldiers stopped talking as she and Carlos walked through the middle of 
the squad. Linda sniffled, her knees weak with terror. Any second she knew 
she would feel a bullet in her back, or hear the alarm raised behind them. 
Carlos guided her around a corner, and Linda heard a motor start. "Don't 
look up," Carlos cautioned again. She heard the squeal of worn breakes. It 
had to be another patrol, absolutely had to be! She saw the big wheels from 
the corner of her eye. The motor almost drowned Carlos' voice. "Come around. 
Okay, get in!" With a shove and a leap, they scrambled into the back of the 
truck. A canvas flap brushed her face. Linda crawled under it. 

"Here-trousers. Give me your pistol," Carlos hissed. The truck lurched and 
an empty crate slid into Linda's back. Linda let the shirt fall away from 
her shoulders. She was out of Batista's prison, for a while. But where was 
she going? With whom? Linda wanted to scream. 

I'm going to die in Cuba, she thought. I want to go home! 

The fourth day after their escape from Moncada Linda woke in panic. She was 
used to hunger now, and used to Carlos' constant vigilant presence. In three 
days, they'd shared one raw rabbit, killed by a stone slung from Carlos' 
hand. Linda had seen people in the distance, but Carlos always led her away 
from buildings, roads and clearings. She was utterly lost in the tropical 
forest, and now she was alone. 

But Carlos' bed of branches was still intact. He'd taught her to scatter the 
signs when they broke their cold camp each morning. Linda pulled on her 
ill-fitting boots and followed his footprints down the hill to the stream 
below. She approached silently. Carlos dived from the center of the small 
pool toward the two pistols when she spoke. Linda was so relieved to see him 
again that she laughed when he lectured her about stealing up behind him. 
"It's a good thing I'm on your side," she smiled. "I'm getting better at 
this forest skulking." 

Carlos' frown dissolved. He waded out of the pool. "I think we are safe 
enough now," he said. "You can bathe if you like. I will stand guard." He 
pulled on his pants and turned his back pointedly. 

The prospect of rinsing the sweat of three days' forced march off her skin 
was too inviting to resist. Linda stripped in seconds and waded into the 
water. The pool was only eight feet across, but it was deep enough for her 
to bend down until the water rose to her throat. Linda ran her hands 
luxusiously over her body. The few remaining cuts from the colonel's whip 
and the dead lieutenant's swagger stick were nearly healed. Her wrists were 
still raw from the handcuffs, but her welts had disappeared. She swept her 
long red hair up over her head with one hand and rubbed the cool water over 
her face and the nape of her neck. She looked at Carlos' muscular back, 
still shirtless under the warming sun, and a tingle in her pussy made her 
blood flow faster. Linda cleared her throat, then stood up. 

The water came just to mid-thigh. Linda made a luscious picture in the 
middle of the pool, with the sunlight making diamonds of the water droplets 
on her fair skin. The healthy pink glow of her flesh made the wet red of her 
pussyhair look like the embers of a log fire, smoldering with rich warmth, 
ready to blaze up instantly. The water had forced her long nipples into 
coral points. The maze of excited little wrinkles around the tips looked 
deliciously inviting, ready for a touch or a tongue. She swayed seductively 
and murmured, "Carlos?" 

He turned around. His face flicked into an immobile mask. "We are not that 
safe," he said, the thick lump of an erection bulging down his thigh. 

Linda let her hair fall over her shoulders. She ran her tongue over her 
teeth. "I would have died without your help," she said simply. She raised 
her hands pleadingly and waded toward the sandy bank. With every step her 
firm breasts lolled invitingly and her lush hips rocked in a dreamy, 
sensuous motion. "Am I so unattractive that I cannot thank you with what I 
have?" she asked, adopting Carlos' formal, careful phrasing. She stood less 
than three feet from him. 

Linda's expression changed from warm expectancy to disappointment, then 
hurt. What's wrong? she thought, blinking back tears. Did they ruin me that 
badly in the prison? I can see he's ready, but he won't touch me! 

"It's not safe!" Carlos exploded. His hands moved toward her, then stopped. 
He looked as agonized as Linda felt. "Even Batista's army does not come into 
this zone. The bandits have all been driven toward-" The double click of a 
weapon being cocked interrupted him. Linda's blood froze. 

"Banditos are no longer in fashion," a thick-accented male voice said. "You 
are in the territory of the Army to Preserve Liberty!" 

Linda covered her breasts and pussy and looked around. The dozen armed men 
at the edges of the clearing looked like bandits. They grinned like bandits. 
When the wind shifted, they even smelled like bandits. The scar-faced man at 
the front of the group smiled evilly. "General Arturo Covarrubias at your 
service. You have been liberated." 

He gestured with his pistol and three men surrounded Carlos. They took the 
pistols away and tied his hands. Three more men wrestled with each other to 
tie Linda and carry her across the stream while the "general" spoke. 

"You must be the ones Almieda has posted the reward for. If only I knew how 
to get the money from Meyers and Alieda both ... the trouble is, you see, 
Meyers wants you alive, and el Coronel would not give you to him while you 
could still breathe." He paused, nodding his head at the weighty problem. 
"Ahh, bueno! We will see where your talents lie and then decide who will 
pay." His leer was as nasty as the hands roving over her body. 

Linda stumbled in front of two bandits until they reached a trail. Carlos 
was already tied hand and foot, draped across the back of a bony mule like a 
sack of cement. The bandit leader gave a series of rapid-fire orders and 
mounted a tall horse. The two men behind Linda handed her up to him. She 
automatically straddled the horse, facing the chieftain. She wanted to pass 
out. His erect prick was already out, hard and eager for her gaping pussy. 

Hard, scarred hands grabbed her hip. "Vamonos!" the leader shouted, and the 
bandits mounted up. He spurred the horse viciously, and Linda's cunt rammed 
against the head of his prick. 

Fright had dried her pussymouth. Only the red curls on her labia were still 
wet. Linda winced in pain as the bandit hauled her closer. The head of his 
cock wedged halfway into her dry cunt. The pressure dragged her clit toward 
his shaft. 

The flare of his knob assaulted the tender strips of her inner labia. Linda 
screamed, from fear as much as pain, and he let go of her hip long enough to 
slap her. Her head whipped to the side, and Linda stared in horror. 

The rocking motion of the horse's back moved her hips in a copulating roll 
that moved her further onto the impaling prickhead. The bandit grimaced at 
the pain of her dry cuntsleeve gripping his knob. He slapped her again. 

Linda was too scared to shout again. She looked wildly from side to side. 
The other bandits rode alongside, jostling and shoving their horses against 
each other to watch the chieftain rape her. The "general" laughed cruelly 
and gouged at her pussy with his free hand. 

The pain of fingers tearing at her cunthair made Linda squirm. The head of 
the leader's cock nearly wrenched out of her pussy. She felt herself 
falling. A blow from his fist made her see stars, and she straightened her 
back was against the horse's neck. Her thighs crossed the tops of the 
bandit's legs. Linda grabbed the horse's mane in her fingers, trying to keep 
from sliding off. Another stab of the man's cockhead against her dry pussy 
made her arch upward in a spasm of pain. "Please, slower," she begged. "Mas 
despacio, por favor!" 

An outrider laughed, mimicking her in a hign voice. "Mas despacio, mi 
general!" The bandits snickered, ogling her lewdly. 

The leader laughed with them. He slapped the horse with the reins and the 
animal broke into a canter. The rapid joggling movement banged her box 
against his prick over and over. The bony tip stabbed everywhere from her 
rectum to her pubic bone. Linda winced with every jolt and her pussycream 
began flowing in self-defense. 

The bandit reached to her pussy again, spreading her cuntlips wide with his 
first two fingers. He let the horse pick the trail while he stared into the 
blushing, meaty-red slot of her pussy. His knob prodded against the rim of 
her cuntmouth, jabbing into her half-wet vagina with each bump of the 
horse's pace. 

A lance of agony shot through her, followed by the hottest surge of pure 
lust Linda had ever felt. The leader ground his thumb into her clit, mashing 
the little pellet from side to side. Linda wailed with heat. The jiggling 
ride bounced her cunt harder against his cock and his thumb. She felt those 
dirty fingers spread her inner folds until she was wide open, and the head 
of his prick entered. 

The ring of sensuous muscle around the mouth of her pussy immediately 
clamped around the neck of his cock. Linda felt cream gushing from her 
cuntwalls in a flood of heat. Only the broad, cunt-corking head of his prick 
kept the juice from greasing her thighs. She moaned, and the bandit let go 
of her cuntlips. 

The relief disappeared in an instant. He rolled the pink bullet of her clit 
between his thumb and forefinger. Electric shocks of shattering lewdness 
shot through her like rockets. Linda felt her whole pussy blazing with heat 
and pain. Every second put more of his prick into her cunt, and every inch 
of his cock made her pussy respond faster. 

Maybe it was the three days without sex or maybe it was the cruelty she 
thought she'd escaped. Linda was amazed at the speed of her excitement. She 
felt her womb touching his cockhead, bouncing up and down with each step of 
the cantering horse. The dull thudding of his knob against her deep-hidden 
womb made the feelings in her pinched clit, the sensuous heat in her 
cuntmouth, even the sliding of the horse's neck on her back seem more 
intense. 

Almost before she knew it, Linda felt his cockbush scratching at the inside 
of her cuntlips. He pulled his hand out of the way and jabbed forward 
farther. His pelvis mashed her clitty into a tiny fireball of need, and 
Linda started to come. 

The trotting horse bounced her on the bandit's prick like a lust machine. 
The bruising force of the fuckstrokes matched the pulses of her come 
perfectly. Linda wailed with sheer horny excitement. Her legs went up and 
clamped around the bandit's back. 

The trees along the trail thinned out, but Linda didn't see them. She lay 
against the horse's neck, her asscheeks flexing with the beat of her 
orgiastic excitement. She rolled her hips in time to the thrusts of the 
bandit's cock, and her tits jiggled heat all through her torso. Every inch 
of her skin soaked up sensuality, from the touch of the bandit's hands to 
the slick, slightly sweaty touch of the horse against her back. Her legs 
tightened around the bandit's waist. Linda started levering against him. 

The bandit shouted happily. The others had all dismounted in the clearing 
where they camped. The leader spurred his horse faster, and the fucking pair 
on the horse galloped around the edge of the clearing. 

The incessant bounding of the horse, the sound of hooves on dirt, the 
continuous thrusts of the leader's prick all combined. Linda couldn't 
separate the sounds from the cock, or the cock from the hands on her ass. 
The bandit dragged her upright. She was suspended on his prick. Her tits 
scraped against his shirt. She felt scratchy whiskers seeking her tits, and 
Linda leaned back. 

Around and around the clearing, the horse panting, the bandit nuzzling and 
biting her nipples, whiskers scraping her deep cleavage, she rode. Linda 
rode the man's prick for dear life, feeling another orgasm building up 
inside her. She held off as long as she could, then let it go. She couldn't 
stop coming! 

The bandit growled and cursed, throwing his hips up at her. His belly 
battered her pussy. He bit half-through one nipple. Linda felt his prick 
swell larger, harder. She whipped her ass back and forth in a frenzy, 
cuntally begging him to shoot his seed into her. 

The horse was tiring, but the bandit's flailing spurs kept him galloping 
around the clearing. Linda puffed as hard as the horse. She was soaked with 
sweat and spattering cuntcream. She whipped her hips sideways, circling 
voraciously around the bandit's cock. The knob levered around in her cunt, 
stretching the walls wider, heating the tissues to furious red. She felt the 
bandit strain to keep from shooting. She worked harder on his prick. Linda 
clasped her cuntring like a fist. The bar of meat in her cunt was hard as 
iron. Linda grunted. She felt the tremble in his hips, the sudden hitch in 
mid-stroke. She dragged a huge breath in. 

The ripping power of his come blasted into her cunt like a hundred 
firehoses. Linda screamed. The bandit leader yanked the reins back and the 
horse reared high, pawing the air. 

Linda spasmed around his prick. Her cunt sucked at him like a vacuum 
cleaner. The rearing horse suspended her over his prick. She was straight up 
on his spurting cock, driving down onto it with every muscle in her body. 
Her legs constricted around him like a vise. Linda bent backwards. Her tits 
pointed up like searchlights. Her hair rippled like a flag in a hurricane. 
She shuddered all over with the power of her orgasm. 

The horse thudded down again, and the bandit's pubes banged against her 
clit. Linda saw sheets of fantastic color. Her whole world collapsed around 
her. She felt nothing but the immense waves of her orgasm and the jabbing, 
stabbing, reaming strokes of his spurting prick. She felt him withdraw a 
fraction, and she fucked toward the bandit leader again. 

Her pussy drained his balls. The rigid shaft was already wilting in her 
tight cuntal clasp. She heard shouts and cheers, and hands dragged her away 
from his cock. Linda tried to hold on with her legs, but a slap on the soles 
of her feet made her let go. 

The other bandits weren't about to stop when the "general" had finished. 
Before Linda's suddenly empty cunt had stopped clamping down on emptiness, 
she was on her back in the dirt of the clearing. Another bandit jammed his 
prick into her cunt and stroked away. 

Linda's pussy was dripping with semen and cuntcream. She wrapped her legs 
around the second bandit and thrust up at him. His prick slipped in like a 
lit candle. It heated the come drenched walls of her cuntsleeve instantly. 

Linda writhed and rolled under him, grinding her hips mercilessly up at his 
prick. She felt him stiffen and start shooting almost instantly. She worked 
her ass frantically back and forth. She needed to grab another quick orgasm 
before his prick wilted and slipped out of her cunt. 

And she did, but only barely. As soon as the man's rapidly fast hunching 
slowed, his compadres dragged him off. They yanked her to her feet and took 
her to the edge of the clearing. Shouts and cheers filled the air as she was 
tied, spreadeagled, between two trees. The ropes on her wrists and ankles 
were hardly snug before a third bandito started assaulting her cunt. 

Tall and lovely, Linda was the perfect size to stand up and fuck. Her tits 
and the firm globes of her luscious ass made her irresistible. The next man 
wasted no time dropping his pants and having at her pussy. His hands roamed 
from her tits, pinching and squeezing, along her ribs, her waist, and down 
to her asscheeks. He adjusted the slant of his prick with one hand, and 
slipped in. 

Linda's cunt was as hot and greasy as a glove full of melted butter. She 
felt the easy slide of cockmeat going in and the confident hands on her 
ass.-She started moving immediately. She twisted like a belly dancer, making 
the bandit circle his cock around in her gash. The heat in her belly grew. 
She was ready to come again. Linda let her head loll backward and prepared 
to let her cunt go crazy. 

Suddenly she felt the hot, hard shape of another cockhead traveling up and 
down her asscleft. "No!" she shouted, losing the beat of the meat that 
slipped up and down her cuntchannel. 

"Sir the man shouted, and his hand went over her mouth. Linda felt the 
obscene invasion of a hand smearing jizz and cuntjuice from her thighs to 
her rectum. The man grabbed handfuls of the greasy mess and worked it into 
her asscheeks, then slid his finger into her asshole. Linda wailed, the 
sound muffled by the hand on her mouth. She was desperate. 

And the bandit behind her was desperately horny. He guided his cock along 
the inside of her thigh and put both hands on her ass. He spread her cheeks 
wide, pulling at the mounds until Linda thought her ass would split in half. 
The head of his cock pressed dead center on her asshole, hot and hard and 
thoroughly wet with the overflowing syrup from her cunt. With a single 
unstoppable shove, her assring parted around his knob. Linda wanted to die. 

She hated herself for responding to the first bandit's prick. She loathed 
herself for fucking the second and third men. The ultimate disgust came when 
the fourth man's cock slithered so easily into her stretching asshole and 
Linda felt her cheeks tense. 

The cock in her cunt paused, then stroked back a fraction. The man fucking 
her ass slipped more meat up the tube, swiveling his hips, Linda felt full 
enough to gag. Two cocks moved in opposite directions in her crotch, veering 
off the thin membrane between and filling her to exhaustion. Her whole lower 
belly was full of prick, and she couldn't even scream. 

Linda sobbed with mingled heat and disgust as the men matched the rhythms of 
their strokes. The cock in her ass ascended, and the prick in her pussy slid 
down. 

When only the head of the cunt-cock was in her, they reversed. Linda churned 
inside. 

Either her cunt or her ass was full, and the other channel ached with 
sucking emptiness. Linda felt sweaty manflesh against her ass and the wiry 
curls of a prickbush tangling in her cunthairs. She groaned with the excess 
of fucking, and the men speeded up. 

The cock in her cunt moved faster. Atone point, both pricks rammed up into 
her at the same time. Linda thought she would split wide open. The 
horrendous sucking hollow in her belly threatened to turn her inside-out 
when she felt them both sliding back, and the next instant filled her full 
again. Her ass felt completely loaded, and her cunt was already starting to 
tighten. Linda wept. 

The two bandits accelerated. Linda went limp. She lost control of her 
muscles. She couldn't do anything to help herself, not even move her hips. 
Her asshole and her cunt tightened and relaxed around the two cocks. The 
heat in her loins grew. 

And grew. Linda dangled between the men like a puppet. The fuck motions of 
their cocks pushed her hips forward and back. The bandit in her cunt started 
swiveling, and the ass-rapist followed. Now both her ass and her belly had 
male bodies slithering sweatily against them. Both her cunt and her asshole 
stretched sideways, forward, back. Linda felt a huge charge of heat building 
up in her, and she wailed. Even now, even with two cruel, perverted pricks, 
stabbing into her ass and her cunt at the same time, her body was going to 
come. She hung from the ropes and let herself go. 

There was no stopping it. Linda felt her body tensing, swaying back and 
forth between the two men. She dreaded the onset of the feelings. The 
powerful urges in her loins increased. The obscene vulgarity of a prick 
wedged deep in her ass had frightened her the first time. Now the power of 
that perverse release would combine with the rippling waves of a cuntal 
orgasm. 

And every stroke brought it closer. The membrane between the two cocks was 
losing sensitivity. Both pricks battered at it. The men were getting ready 
to shoot, and Linda knew the last, spasmodic jerks of their cocks would set 
her off. She tried to calm herself. She thought of everything but sex. She 
breathed deeply, then held her breath. The inexorable tension built up 
inside her. The knowledge of her next come hung above her like a cliff-face. 

The man behind grabbed her tits. Her nipples squirted between his fingers. 
Linda felt the sharp agony of twisted nipples searing the whole mound of 
each tit. He pawed at her bosom, mashing the globes tight against her chest. 
His long, hard strokes pulled nearly out of her ass before battering back 
in. His belly slapped her ass, as loud as cannon firing. 

The man in front gouged at her buttocks. He levered his hips at her, yanking 
her cunt onto his prick. The head of his cock slipped completely out. His 
next stroke ripped cunthair from her labia and jammed his shaft ball-deep in 
her cunt. The bruising force of his pubes on her clit made a lightning bolt 
flare in Linda's brain. He fucked back again, then threw cock into her. Her 
womb bounced away from the powerful ridge of his bloated prick. 

The assfucker slowed down. He grunted savagely in her ear. Every brutal 
stroke of his prick seemed to tear her asstube loose. Knives of pain sliced 
from her asshole to the middle of her belly. The flesh between the two holes 
stretched. 

Both men pulled back. Like a hammer meeting an anvil, their cocks blasted up 
her cunt and ass. They pulled back again. The watching bandits cheered. 

Linda's head arched back. Her spine bowed with the simultaneous suction from 
both emerging cocks. She was a hollow, empty shell from her throat to her 
crotch. 

They rammed up and in. Linda felt the shuddering release of their sperm. The 
lining of her asstube burned. Lava-like jizz poured into her ass. She heard 
the cheers of the other bandits. Her mouth snapped shut. The first burst of 
painful orgasm ripped through her. Every nerve in her body screamed. Over 
and over and over again her cunt and her asshole spasmed shut on the 
pistoning pair of pircks. An earsplitting yell tore from her raw throat. Her 
belly was full of semen, her crotch was full of jerking, twitching, spewing 
male meat. She tensed against the ropes, dragging her hands and feet in. 
Spasms racked her. She bent the saplings they'd tied her to. The leaves 
rattled. 

The next shock wave of relief hit her, and Linda fell apart. Her fingers 
starfished out. Her cunt was milking madly at one prick while her asshole 
shimmied around the other. She babbled and wailed, shouting, "Thank you, 
thank you, thank you!" at the top of her lungs. She swore then, babbling 
until frothy spit sprayed ten feet away from her. Totally out of control, 
her mind blanked while Linda's body went on coming, clasping, tensing, until 
the two bandits could barely drag their shriveling pricks out of her holes. 

Linda curled and rolled against the ropes, moving her hips in the constant 
rhythm of orgasm. The bandits watched in awe as the tall redhead slung her 
body around, her long hair flying. Semen and cunt cream and a pinkish froth 
of blood spattered the ground under her. With a last huge jerk, her hips 
snapped forward. Her head slumped onto her chest. Linda hung there, 
motionless. The marveling banditos slowly walked away. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

"Momma," Linda muttered. "Close the curtains, Momma." She let her eyes 
flutter open. Her Cuban vacation came back to her in a rush. 

It's too bright to be my cell, she thought. Linda tried to move her arms. 
She dangled with her feet a few inches from the ground, spread far apart. 
She remembered the bandits surrounding her, tying Carlos to a pack mule, but 
everything else was blank. 

Why am I tied up? she wondered. Linda ran her tongue over her lips. The 
slant of the shadows said it was late afternoon. Where's Carlos? She raised 
her head, but her hair was in her eyes. Linda tossed it back. Carlos lay on 
his side, a rope running from his bound ankles to his neck. Linda tried to 
whisper, but her throat was raw. She pulled up with her arms, and a dull 
ache in her crotch told her at least part of what had happened. She moved in 
her bonds. It felt like quarts of sticky semen had dried on her thighs. The 
scaly stuff ran clean to her knees. She flexed her legs, and a burning pain 
at the top edge of her rectum reminded her of the last few seconds before 
she'd passed out. "Ohhh, my gawd!" she moaned, and slumped forward again. 

Arguing voices came to her ears. She looked off to the left, where a dozen 
men squatted in front of a cave. The wind blew some of their words away, but 
she could hear enough to realize they were debating whether to kill Carlos 
or take him along in hope of increasing the reward. One of the bandits was 
saying, "Look, we only have two men who can go safely into Havana. That's 
not enough to take two prisoners in." 

The leader, the one who had fucked her on horseback, looked over the heads 
of the others to where Carlos lay. "If he helped her escape, Almieda will 
want him, too, and you know he never likes the sorrowful ones to die before 
he gets them." He looked at Linda and smiled. "Of course, Meyers may pay us 
more for the girl ... she is spectacular, no?" He swaggered around the end 
of the group and walked to where Linda hung between the two small trees. 

"I think I will ask her where she would rather go ... and if that one should 
accompany her," he said in English. He called an order over his shoulder and 
one of the men turned Carlos to face Linda. "He should watch ... you are 
going to pass judgement on him," the bandit leader said. He turned to stare 
at Carlos. 

Carlos spit across the packed dirt of the clearing. He looked ready to 
speak, but thought better of it. Linda tensed as the chieftain watched 
Carlos. "No," she rasped, "Please, no. Don't kill him." 

"You enjoy this life, this freedom army?" the "general" asked, sauntering 
around Linda. His eyes traveled up and down her body, surveying the purple 
bruises on her breasts and asscheeks. "If you weren't worth so much money, 
we would keep you here. Many of the peasant women would be glad to be in 
your place, among the only real men in Cuba," he bragged. Without looking, 
he scraped his worm boot backward, showering Carlos with dust. "These city 
men, for example," he went on, "they only come to the forests when Batista 
is ready to cut off their shriveled balls. And those Castristos! How long 
can you expect to live with a whole army after you?" 

The bandit leader turned around, lecturing as much to his men as to Linda. 
"No, the Army, they are more like us. They understand we do not bother most 
people. If we were with the Reds, they would come after us, but they know 
the rebles would kill us as fast as they kill the regular soldiers. That is 
a very good reason to give you both to Coronel Almieda." His voice droned 
on, and Linda looked away. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. A branch 
had just moved against the wind. Linda looked at Carlos. His eyes flicked 
from her right to her left. That same stony immobility she'd seen when she 
offered her body to him jelled on his face. He shook his head slightly. 

Linda looked past him again. She detected more tiny increments of motion. 
One of the horses at the far end of the clearing stamped, and a mule brayed. 
Carlos had closed his eyes and gone limp on the ground. Linda looked at the 
"general" again...." your other talents. Meyers must have trained you for 
something very interesting to offer so much cocaine," he said. The dozen 
bandits behind had their eyes locked on Linda. With a flick of the wrist, 
the leader commanded two men to cut her down from the saplings. 

"I had thought about tying you upside down," the leader said, "but that 
might give you another fit." He translated into Spanish, and the bandits 
laughed. 

Linda fell to her knees as soon as the ropes on her wrist were released. The 
bandit leader cocked the revolver she'd taken from Colonel Almieda and held 
it negligently in one hand. He undid his fly and waved the pistol toward his 
his erect prick. "Toma! Eat it, woman!" 

Linda looked around, shocked. She'd heard insults, even in Ohio, but to 
think that people actually did that ... She hesitated, and a booted foot 
swung bruisingly into her crotch. The lips of her pussy puffed up 
immediately. The sore tissues of her ass and cuntmouth burned. The fire 
infected her clit. Linda knee-walked to the bandit leader and grasped his 
prick. 

"Yes, eat it! I want to feel those American lips around mi carne," the 
"general" sneered. He nudged the back of her head with the barrel of the 
gun. 

Linda sneaked a glance at Carlos, who lay limp, resigned. The aroma of horse 
and cuntjuice and dried semen came to her nostrils, thick enough to cut with 
a spoon. Linda gulped and parted her lips. 

The salty, heavy taste of his cockhead surprised her. The slit at the tip 
already oozed a bitter fluid, and her saliva mixed slimily with it. The 
dried come and cuntcream made the surface of the big knob sticky, but a 
little more spit made the whole end feel as slick as the lips of her pussy. 
Linda took a fresh grip on his prick and moved her lips down. 

She didn't know whether to suck or lick at the warm, thick rod. Linda 
wondered if he expected her to put it all into her mouth. It seemed 
impossible. She touched the tip of her tongue to the slit at the end and 
searched inside. 

The leader's prick plowed forward into her mouth in a swift shove. Linda 
nearly gagged. She only half-listened to the bandit's words. Linda began to 
get interested in the textures of his prick. 

A hand sneaked under her asscheeks and started toying with her pussy. 
Fingers twined in her cunthairs. Linda couldn't see who it was, but it 
couldn't have been the "general." His hands were both on her head, holding 
her face while he stroked in and out. 

The easy, greasy slide of the cock in her lips sent telegraphic messages of 
heat to her breasts. Linda felt her nipples erecting. She wasn't sure if it 
was the twisting hand in her pussy or the growing, pulsing prick in her 
mouth that caused it. 

The hand in her cunt dug in harder. Linda inhaled more of the chieftain's 
prick. She rolled her tongue around the knob. The shaft was somehow smoother 
than the end, even though the surface looked wrinkled with traceries of 
veins. Linda started to bob her head back, and a thumb dug into her asshole. 

The pain made her start. She barely managed to keep from biting down on the 
leader's cock. Linda rotated her hips, trying to convince the owner of the 
invading thumb that he should stop. The motion encouraged him. 

Two fingers slipped into her cuntmouth. Another reached up the slippery 
central stripe of her pussy and found her clit. Linda sucked harder. The 
cock in her mouth wasn't connected to the hand in her crotch, but the 
feelings from each of them certainly were. Juice squished noisily in her 
crotch, and Linda pulled her head off the leader's prick. 

"More!" he insisted, and pushed her face toward his crotch again. Linda was 
having a hard time getting her breath. The taste was becoming more 
acceptable, even pleasing. She wondered what the bandits were going to do to 
her when she became aroused enough. 

Another man found a way. Hands suddenly seemed to grow all over her body. 
Fingers pinched the mounds of her tits and gouged at her ass. Linda felt the 
egg-smooth knob of another man's prick press against the side of her face. 
The leader pulled her head away again. She instantly transferred to the 
second cock. 

It was smaller, but the taste of her cunt was missing. Pure man! Linda 
thought, and she gobbled down the shaft. The knob pressed against her 
palate. Linda raised her head again. 

Her tongue whipped around the knob like a snake. She felt hands on her tits, 
fingers in her cunt, the thumb in her asshole all move faster. At least four 
different men were fondling her, fingerfucking her, shoving cocks at her 
mouth. Linda felt suffocated, but she sucked valiantly at the prick in her 
mouth. 

In seconds, the leader pulled her face back to his own prick. Linda reached 
up and found the shaft of another cock with her hand. She jacked at it, 
matching the speed of her hand strokes to the hunching rhythms of the man's 
hips. 

Linda lavished tonguework all around the bandit chiefs cock, keeping her 
hand moving on the other man's prick. Fingers pinched her nipples into 
blazing stubs of heat, mauled her breasts into tight mounds of nerves. Her 
hips circled from side to side, then rolled in a coital motion. Another 
fingertip found her clitty. Hands and pricks and fingers massaged all the 
most sensitive parts of her body. For a frantic second, Linda was afraid 
they would pull her off of the "general's" prick and start double-fucking 
her again, but it didn't happen. 

The leader pulled his hands away from her head. Linda took it as permission 
to suck the next man's cock. This one was different again, dry where her 
saliva had soaked the others. There was no hood of foreskin. She reveled in 
the clean, naked space between the ridge of the knob and the broad part of 
the shaft, and sucked until the head seemed ready to burst. 

Hands on her head dragged her back to the leader's prick. Without .realizing 
it, Linda grabbed a cock in each hand. She stroked the loose skin up and 
down hot shafts, working her fists with all the frenzy that was building in 
her cunt. A mad urge to investigate the taste of semen seized her. She 
licked and sucked madly, her tongue preying on the flare of the bandito's 
cockhead. She slipped her mouth off the head for an instant and ran her 
tongue down the front of the shaft. 

Linda was hotter by the second. The oily sweat of horny excitement covered 
her body. A prickhead jabbed at the side of her tits. She felt boots skid 
past her bare feet, and the hand in her crotch moved. A man pulled her 
backwards onto his cock, and the greased center of her pussy filled 
instantly. A lightning bolt of sudden fullness in her cunt started an 
orgasm. 

But Linda knew she couldn't let go completely. She bounced her ass up and 
down on the man's lap, but kept her teeth off of the leader's prick. The 
fluttering waves in her pussy spread until she was gripping the cocks in her 
hands like iron bars. She jacked faster and faster, sucked harder ... the 
whole world was cocks and hands and mouths and cuntflesh, sucking and 
thrusting and mingling hot and wet.... 

A huge crashing noise shattered her eardrums. Sperm jetted into her mouth. 
The cocks in her hands slipped away. The man seated under her bouncing ass 
spasmed upward, throwing her away from the bandit leader's cock. Still the 
huge noise went on.... 

The cock disappeared from her cunt. Hot, sticky fluid rained down on her. 
Linda fell heavily on her side. Her head hit a rock. She opened her eyes in 
shock. 

Linda screamed. She couldn't hear herself. The clearing around her was full 
of leaping, twisting bodies. The stacatto of machine-gun fire hammered at 
her ears. She saw Carlos scrambling, hunching like a worm toward the edge of 
the clearing. The bandit leader, his pants still around his ankles, shot 
back at the trees. 

Naked men flopped like dying fish in the dirt. The zone where Linda had been 
was covered with blood and the viscid white of semen. A grenade roared, and 
the yellow-red of the explosion shattered the trees where she'd been tied. 
As the whipcrack of rifle shots added to the confusion, she heard "Down! 
Linda-" and a second roar as another grenade exploded. 

Half of the banditos were dead in the first three seconds, but the leader 
was still shooting. He dropped to his naked knees. The slide of the 
automatic he held kicked back and stayed. He grabbed for the ivory grip of 
Almieda's pistol and raised it toward the two rebels who'd burst into the 
clearing near Carlos. 

"It's MINE!" Linda screamed. She dove at the bandit leader, her hands 
stretched for the pistol. He swung it half around. Everything jerked to 
slow-motion while Linda flew through the four feet of bullet-torn air 
between them. The hammer went back, and the barrel foreshortened. The hole 
at the end went from oval to round just as the heel of Linda's right hand 
struck the bandit's shoulder. She felt the concussion of the exploding 
gasses. She wrenched the pistol away. A shot from a rifle made bloody pulp 
of the "general's" chest. Shock and outrage more evil than anything Linda 
had ever seen crossed his face. 

Linda rolled to her left. She lit on her side, her breast scraping into the 
dirt. Before her hipbone had contacted the ground, the pistol was in her 
right hand and ready. She spun around and rose to a half-crouch. The 
shooting stopped as suddenly as it had begun. 

Three green-clad, bearded men stepped into the clearing, three different 
guns at the ready. Linda looked to her right. Two more, one with his back 
braced against the heavy, wicked-looking automatic rifle he pointed a few 
feet away from her Linda's belly. A sixth, then a seventh man showed just 
back of the treeline, still untying Carlos' bonds. Linda lowered her pistol. 
"Uhhh, don't shoot," she stammered. A phrase from a war movie jumped into 
her mind. "Sessen sie. nicht! No, that's German. Carlos, help!" 

Carlos stood up, shaking the circulation back into his hands. "Don't worry, 
Linda. You're part of the rebel army now ... and when I tell them where that 
pistol came from, you'll be a hero." He stepped into the clearing again and 
spoke rapidly to the guerrillas. The look on their faces turned from 
wariness to surprised admiration. 

Carlos was telling the story of their escape with flamboyant gestures. Linda 
broke in. "Carlos, now that I'm a hero, can I have my clothes back?" 

Carlos stopped, embarrassed. "You better...." he began, then stopped talking 
just in time to catch her. Linda passed out for the second time that day. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Before nightfall Carlos handed Linda a decision to make. Lieutenant Remora, 
the guerrilla band's leader, wanted to leave her at a village near the main 
highway. Before capturing the horses, the rebels would have been 
hard-pressed to make their rendezvous with the rest of their column, 
scheduled four days away. Mounted, with food, ammunition, and medicines from 
the bandits' cave, the men all agreed on a sweep around the meeting area. 
Remora thought they could make two, perhaps three widely separated attacks 
on government outposts and still link up with the Sixth Column in time to 
attack the caravans Batista's forces sent along the roads. If she wanted to 
stay with the rebels rather than risk being taken back to the Moncada 
prison, she would have to fight alongside them. Even then, there was no 
guarantee that the officer in charge of the column would allow her to remain 
after the rendezvous. Earlier in the war several young Americans had been 
sent out of the mountains because they couldn't keep up with the hardened 
guerrillas. 

It was difficult. Linda felt a stab of homesickness when she thought of her 
parents, but home seemed impossibly far away. The sexual abuse of her body 
by the bandits, Batista's men, and even by her dead friend had changed her 
ideas about herself. She wasn't sure that Akron was where she belonged. 

But where did she belong? Even if she did attempt to skirt the police in 
Havana and made it as far as the boat to Key West, where would she go? She 
was nineteen years old and felt ninety. Linda snorted bitterly when she 
thought of her old goals, marriage and motherhood. Any man who would want 
her now certainly wouldn't be a good husband or father. Every part of her 
body had been defiled ... and she'd felt shameful excitement each time. For 
one desperate moment, Linda considered finding Meyers in Havana. 

As for staying with the guerrillas, that seemed impossible, too. She hadn't 
prepared herself, physically or mentally, the way Judy had. Judy had died 
before she'd been in Cuba for twenty hours. She couldn't shoot a gun, in 
fact, Carlos had kept Almieda's pistol pending her decision. She could 
barely keep up with Carlos in the forest. She'd been frightened half to 
death when the battle erupted at the bandits' camp. True, her Spanish was 
improving, but the troop medic who'd looked her over had a hard time 
understanding her answers when he asked about her pain. Being the only woman 
in an all-male force had a pussy-shivering appeal, but the embarrassment of 
cleaning blood and semen from her skin while the column prepared to move out 
was a recent tender spot in her memory. Linda brooded until dusk. Her empty 
stomach churned into an acid mass. One look at the homey little whitewashed 
houses of the village below decided her. The column pulled up around Remora. 

"I'll stay until we reach Column Six," Linda quavered. She looked at the 
guerrillas bravely, her lower lip trembling with anxiety. Lieutenant Remora 
looked doubtful. Linda felt her chances slipping. Before he could speak, she 
blurted, "Up the revolution! We'll win!" 

"Venceremos!" Carlos replied, and the rebels joined in. 

"Venceremos!" The medic tugged the pack mule closer, grabbed a captured 
rifle from the lashings, and handed it to Linda. She slung it over her 
shoulder, blushing beet-red in the dusk. The rebel cavalry started down the 
hill to the village. 

And in the village it began. Remora reminded the squad on the way in," 'The 
people are the sea in which the guerrilla swims.' " He didn't remind them 
seas can run high. 

A single peasant, only a little better-dressed than the rest, looked at 
Linda with great interest. She attributed his interest to the novelty of 
such a tall woman traveling with the soldiers, or perhaps to her red hair. 
Linda forgot about the man until he returned when the squad's medic, a wiry 
fifty-year-old with silver hair and a constant smile, had finished making 
the rounds of the complaining villagers. Now the peasant's eyes were 
calculating, wary. He stayed in the back of the crowd. When the squad 
mounted up again, he was right beside Remora, wishing them safety in their 
march. 

The little troop returned to the hills. Fed and properly tended, Linda slept 
well for the first time since she'd come to Cuba. At first light they moved 
out. 

A convoy of trucks was due to pass sometime during the morning. In other 
parts of the island, the rebels controlled the roads, but near Havana the 
government forces still ran armed convoys nearly every day. Remora and 
Carlos agreed on a likely spot for an ambush. 

The guerrillas were on the east side of the mountains, some thirty miles 
from Havana. The coastal plain reaches up against a series of foothills in 
that region, and the main highway skirts the edge of the hills. Less than an 
hour's ride from their overnight billet a pair of hummocks stepped out onto 
the plain. The highway ran between the two hills and the main slope of the 
mountains' rolling border. 

It would have been better, perhaps, if Batista's forces didn't know the 
squad was mounted ... if they could strike outposts daily, more than 
infantry distance away, the Army would have worried more. The villagers had 
informed them, though, that the government seemed to be building up the 
garrison near a pair of sugar mills several miles further east. Before full 
light the plan was laid and all nine of the little band were in position. 

Carlos and three others were in cover at the foot of the road's embankment. 
Remora, the medic, two guerrillas, and Linda hid among the rocks on the side 
of the first hill the trucks would pass. One of the soldiers in Remora's 
party watched the road from the top of the hummock. As soon as the convoy 
was sighted, he slithered down and reported. Six trucks with one jeep ahead 
and two behind made up the column. He'd seen no sign of air cover. 

Remora glanced up. "Good. We will wait for the first truck to pass the 
curve, then immobilize it. Shift your fire immediately to the jeep, and when 
it is finished, we retreat. Before the road is clear again, we will be up 
that hill," he said, pointing across the road. "We go northwest, and cut off 
anyone trying to return to Havana." 

A thousand frantic butterflies flapped in Linda's stomach. Yes, the road was 
narrow, but if the truck rolled off the edge ... She craned her neck, but 
Carlos' group and their horses were well hidden. 

Motors grew louder in the distance. All the weapons they'd taken from the 
bandits' cave were loaded and ready, three to a person. The youngest of the 
guerrillas rechecked the big Browning automatic rifle. 

Now the lighter sound of the jeeps' motors could be heard. Linda squinted 
her head down the barrel of the shotgun. The front trigger was for the 
driver's window. The second barrel went for the gas tank, just behind and 
below the cab. Linda drooled copiously. If the convoy didn't show soon, she 
would vomit. 

The tiny sounds of knees digging into dirt underlay the noise of the 
approaching vehicles. The whine of straight-cut gears in the truck axles all 
but drowned the crunch of gravel. A jeep, bouncing on its springs, growled 
around the corner. The heavy machine gun mounted on the rear pointed toward 
the clear, unmarked sky. 

Linda watched the driver and the two other soldiers. The gunner was leaning 
over the seats, gesturing to the passenger. The detail astonished her. The 
driver had a small, pencil-line mustache. The gunner showed semicircles of 
perspiration under his arm. 

The jeep was ten yards, then twenty yards past the bend. It would be around 
the next kink in the road in seconds. Linda ached all over. Her muscles were 
tied in knots. After so much drooling, her mouth was oddly dry. 

The truck pulled around the corner. Its canvas sides were down, but someone 
had forgotten to tie the flaps. They fluttered in the wind. Linda waited. 
The rusty, once-silver ball of the gunsight blocked the lower half of the 
driver's face. "Ahora!" Remora shouted. 

The huge "BOOM" of the shotgun deafened Linda. She was still fighting the 
recoil when she pulled the rear trigger. "BOOM!" again, even louder. 

The brutal hammering of the Browning made every other sound a whisper. Linda 
dropped the shotgun and fired a rifle blindly at the jeep. Puffs of dust 
erupted all around it. The driver and the gunner jerked. The passenger 
half-rolled out on the far side. 

Soldiers poured out the back of the truck. The cab was on fire. Some fell 
where they leapt. The truck rolled, then stopped with a cloud of dirt rising 
around the rear wheels. 

More soldiers ran away from the blazing truck. Plumes of black smoke rose 
over orange-red flames. A few government soldiers ran to the embankment, but 
no further. The rest, firing wildly in every direction, dashed around the 
bend in the road. 

Linda ran across the road in a nightmarish panic. Behind the burning truck 
the other jeeps were jockeying to come up to road. Dozens of soldiers milled 
like ants. Linda, Remora and the others dashed down the bank. Their arms, 
weighted with weapons, windmileld for balance. A guerrilla brought the 
horses forward from the trees. 

All the gunfire had stopped. Linda heard herself sobbing. All around her the 
rebels panted, while bodies of Army ranks struggled briefly in the road and 
expired. Nine horses and nine riders joined instantly and galloped off 
toward the trees. 

Distant, not as deafening, the heavy clatter of the government machine guns 
started up. Leaves and branches disintegrated around them. Linda bent low 
over her horse's neck and looked back. 

So far none of the rebels had been wounded. The pack mule was less than a 
mile away, and the troop ran for it. The medicine and supplies on the mule 
were nearly as important as the attack. Before the impact of the skirmish 
had sunk into Linda, they were there. The rebels reined up and Carlos 
dismounted. He untied the mule. Remora looked around. "Everyone is all 
right?" 

The chorus of "Si, buenos," died out as Carlos remounted. They were 
surrounded by a unit of Batista's army, guns at the ready. Faces fell and 
hands rose. Linda leaned over her horse's neck and wept. 

In the center of the village Captain Morales ranted and raved. He gave the 
greatest speech of his life to the stolid peasants. The horrors of 
Communism, the duty of a citizen, even the role of the Church were grandly 
expounded. He then personally executed the eight rebels. 

The peasants' expressions scarcely changed. When they saw the battered, 
bleeding guerrillas dragged into town the execution was inevitable. When the 
ring of soldiers around them broke to throw the corpses into a truck, the 
peasants slowly returned to the fields. The cane and tobacco needed work, 
whether it was bandits, Batistianos, or rebels who died in the square. 

The well-dressed man sidled up to Morales and muttered a question. The 
captain looked at Linda and smiled. "Como no, Ignacio?" He waved, and the 
soldiers let go of Linda. 

Why not what? she wondered. The peasant approached with a swagger, and she 
knew. 

"Half an hour only," Morales called as the peasant led Linda toward a small 
house. Her wrists were tied in front of her. The peasant led her by the end 
of the rope like an ox. 

The house was a single room, perhaps ten feet on a side. The floor was split 
logs, the chinks stuffed with straw and mud. The whitewash on the inside was 
wearing as thin as the lipworn picture of the Madonna on the side wall. A 
low pallet in a rear corner was the largest piece of furniture ... the table 
was hardly larger than the two skillets that lay on top of it. 

Ignacio closed the wooden door and let go of the rope. He dragged an old 
rice sack across the window. Linda stood still in the middle of the room, 
watching mutely. 

She was numb, as unfeeling as a lump of stone. Even without being 
recaptured, the emotional impact of the battle would have left her inert. 
The execution of her new compadres had been the last slash at her senses. 

Ignacio smiled and spoke softly to her. "You are very much of a woman," he 
said, circling her. His eyes roamed greedily all over her. He took the 
battered cap from her head and sucked air through his front teeth. Her long 
red hair cascaded down her back. 

I'll die soon anyway, Linda thought. She looked over his head while Ignacio 
unbuttoned her shirt. She heard him hiss again at the bruises on her high, 
full breasts. It didn't matter to her. 

Fingers wrestled with the ropes on her wrists. Linda held her hands slightly 
higher, and the ropes fell away. Ignacio peeled her shirt away and started 
on her pants. 

Linda looked down incuriously. It was novel to have only one man stripping 
her. The faded shadow of a smile pulled the corners of her mouth. 

Her pants fell around her ankles. Ignacio sat back on his heels and stared 
at the rich, coppery red of her cunthairs. Linda knew that the outer edges 
of her labia were visible, and that the central strip between her cuntlips 
was still dark from the bruising-gallop of the horse she'd ridden. She 
watched his face. 

Ignacio was impressed. He was perhaps two inches shorter than Linda, and six 
or eight years older. His eyes devoured the long taper of her thighs, the 
wide, inviting bowl of her pelvis, and the tight triangular gap just below 
her pussy. Linda's smile was sadder, but wider. She shifted her feet 
slightly. 

Ignacio reached for the knife at his belt. Satisfied seconds later that it 
wasn't an attack, he relaxed. "Muy sensuosa," he decided. "Muy, muy 
sensuosa!" He stood and undid his belt. 

Linda looked into his eyes instead of down toward his rampant erection. She 
began to find it amusing ... a single peasant was rewarded with her body. 
Neither the bandits nor the army had made her feel like a prize. She ran her 
hands languidly up her hips, stretching the tight skin. Her fingertips 
slipped along her narrow waist. She cupped her breasts, offering them to 
Ignacio. "Le gustaf she asked. 

He was on guard again. Ignacio stripped his shirt over his head and nodded 
toward the pallet. Linda decided not to speak any more. She turned and 
walked to the cot, her hips rolling sensuously. The notion that she should 
make it worth his time fluttered through her head. 

Ignacio jammed his hand into her crotch from behind. Linda jumped, seesawing 
on the fingers that had skidded past her cuntmouth to her clit. The little 
pellet hardened in two quick pulses. When Ignacio let her down from tiptoe, 
she turned to look at him. Her face was melting with the slack, eager look 
of horny womanhood. 

Ignacio shoved, and the pallet caught her calves. Linda fell against the 
wall. Her asscheeks stung. Grit ground into her skin. She slid down to a 
sitting position. Linda started to lie back, raising her feet from the 
floor, but he wouldn't have it. 

Ignacio grabbed her wrist and yanked. Linda groaned at the shock that went 
up her arm. Her shoulders hadn't recovered yet from being hung by her 
wrists. He's going to hurt me, Linda thought, and she felt a clammy chill of 
sweat start on her skin. 

Ignacio thrust his hips at her, and Linda had no choice. She felt the 
goo-dripping tip of his prick touch her cheek. Without looking away from his 
face, she opened her mouth. 

The fleshy hood of his foreskin was bitter-salty in her mouth. Linda kissed 
the covering. Her lips pressed tight around it. Slowly, fear growing in her, 
she touched the end of his glans with her tongue. Linda pulled her mouth 
back and looked up at Ignacio. 

He grinned cruelly. Ignacio took a handful of her hair and twisted. He 
pulled her face back toward his cock. His other hand went under her chin. 
His tumb dug into her cheek like a hammer-claw. He put his index finger into 
the corner of her mouth and pulled. 

The harsh stab and the painful stretching worked. Linda couldn't keep her 
jaws closed if she'd wanted to. Every time she tried to pull her head back 
even a fraction, Ignacio yanked her hair forward again. Shaking with fear 
and pain, Linda took the end of his prick into her mouth again. 

The thick, dusty odor of his unwashed balls filled her nostrils. Linda 
thought she would suffocate on the scent. She tried to lavish erotic 
tonguework on his prick, but he jabbed the spongy knob against the roof of 
her mouth. Linda gagged. 

Ignacio swore. He moved his hand from her jaw to her tits and twisted her 
nipples. Linda moaned around his cockhead. Juice gushed in her pussy when he 
mauled her tit. She squirmed on the gritty blanket. Her heart pounded. The 
salty taste of his prick made her mouth pucker. Fighting revulsion, Linda 
slipped, the tip of her tongue under his foreskin and -rimmed the ridge of 
his knob. Ignacio hummed contentedly. 

He bent his knees, tugging her forward. Lind's tits hung into his hand. She 
felt his fingers spiderwalk over to her other breast. She waited an instant, 
then inhaled more cock to stifle her moan as he attacked the other nipple. 

Linda began bobbing her head desperately up and down on his cock. She sucked 
on the outstroke and rolled her tongue on the instroke. The loose, salty 
warmth of his foreskin moved around her tongue like a living thing. 

Ignacio's hand dove into her pussy. He wiggled his fingers down the center 
of her twat. His thumb pressed the outer edge of one cuntlip. Linda spread 
her thighs slightly, and thick, sausage-like fingers crept over her 
asscheeks. She stopped moving her head for a moment, and Ignacio fucked his 
prick into the top of her throat. 

His knee knocked her legs open wider. Linda wondered if Ignacio would come 
soon. She was becoming more frightened, and simultaneously her body was 
becoming more eager. She hoped that he could shoot in her mouth before too 
much lust built up in her pussy. 

Ignacio slipped a finger into her cunt, then another. Linda felt his ragged 
fingernails scrape at the sensitive sides of her cuntal tube. She tried to 
open wider, bearing down, but that only allowed his probing digits to slip 
further into her cunt. He jabbed harder, and she lost sensation as he went 
past the sensitive lower part of her cunthole. 

Linda tried to squirm away. She imagined ghastly scraping nails clawing at 
her inner surfaces. She moaned and gathered saliva around his prick. With 
the strength of fear, she pulled away from his hand. 

Ignacio pulled her off his cock by her hair. He glared into her eyes. 
Without a word, he slapped her, then chopped the back of his hand across her 
other cheek. 

"Linda started to cry. "Please," she whimpered in English. "Please, just be 
nice!" 

Ignacio replied in Spanish, wrapping his face around each word. "Then eat my 
cock! I want to feel those sweet lips sucking and working up and down while 
I shove my entire first into your cunt! I will fuck you until you can't 
stand up!" 

"Please, please," Linda whined. Ignacio yanked her face into his crotch 
again, and her mouth opened automatically. Linda sniffled and wept as she 
sucked, memorizing every cell of the lathesome prick in her mouth. She shook 
like a leaf. Linda was covered with cold sweat. Ignacio kneaded her cuntlips 
with one hand and shoved his cock harder into her mouth with each passing 
second. 

Linda tried to match his rhythm, but Ignacio made it hard. His hand would 
work at her pussy, then go back to her face. Cream smeared on her cheeks and 
chin. He held her head still for a long, deep stroke. Linda realized that 
Ignacio wanted her to miss the rhythm so she would suck his prick longer. 

Ignacio let go of her hair, but a warning thrust of his prick told her not 
to miss a stroke. He put his hands on her tits and ran his thumbs over her 
nipples. The coral tips stood up like fat grapes, and each flick sent 
shimmering vibrations all through her body. 

Ignacio delighted in touching the responsive nuggets. He rubbed his thumbs 
back and forth on them like windshield wipers. Linda hated the feelings, 
hated the reaction that the rough handling sent to the pit of her belly. She 
felt her pussy moistening more. 

Ignacio dropped his left hand to her crotch again. He trailed his fingers 
through the coppery nest of her cunthair. He tugged, and the abused skin of 
her cuntlips hurt. Every follicle on her pussy seemed to stand up and 
scream. Hairs ripped out. 

Linda's pussy was raw inside and out. Her clitty stood up like a pencil 
stub. She sucked as lasciviously as possible at his prick, hoping that he 
would shoot in her mouth before her arousal became too obvious. 

More juice flowed from her cunt. Linda could smell the aroma of her own 
arousal even over the reek of Ignacio's balls. Dread chilled her belly. 

Her bladder felt the strain. It had been a long time since she'd pissed, and 
Ignacio's fingers worked to make it worse. The back of his hand brushed 
across her belly. It was all Linda could do to keep from wetting herself. 
She concentrated on his prick, wrapping her tongue around the edge of his 
knob like a tiny snake. Was she imaginging it, or was his prick swelling up 
in her mouth?" 

Linda licked into the slit at the tip. The tiny cockmouth was widening. She 
felt the spongy flesh around it firm up. Linda put one hand around the base 
of his prick. She jacked slowly up and down. She did her best to hurry the 
rush of seed up from his balls. She cupped his sac in her other hand and 
massaged the rock-hard eggs of his balls. 

Ignacio shoved his prick against the back of her mouth in short, hard 
strokes. Linda slurped faster. She felt a flutter in the shaft. One vein 
went into spasm. She felt her pussy puffing up with the tension. She sucked 
voraciously at his knob, hoping ... hoping.... 

Ignacio jammed two fingers into her cunt. Another finger speared in. Her 
bladder was about to burst. She didn't know how long she could stand the 
pressure. The hand in her pussy wiggled against the back wall of her 
bladder. Ignacio gripped her head again, holding her mouth steady for his 
savage fuckstrokes. Linda gargled prick, trying to force his jism out with 
her buzzing voice. 

Ignacio let go of her head. He slipped his hand down across her tits. Linda 
was surprised. He didn't grab the aching mounds. His palm went across the 
smooth skin of her belly. He tugged at the very top of her cunthair, then 
slipped his fingertips back up. They centered just above her pubes, just 
where his other fingers worked in her cunt. Pressure built up in Linda's 
bladder. She moaned, hoping he would stop. 

Ignacio jabbed his fingers into her belly. He whipped his prick out of her 
mouth. He shouted at Linda, and her body obeyed. 

A dam burst, and piss flooded out. A wave of shame covered her. Hot, reeking 
fluid covered Ignacio's wrist. The yellow stream burned the aroused tissues 
of her cunt like liquid fire, spattering from the pallet to her thighs, her 
knees, even pooling under her asscheeks. Linda wanted to die from the shame 
of it. Wouldn't it ever stop? 

Before the last trickles had gushed out of her pussy, Ignacio yanked Linda 
off the bed. He spun her around and forced her to kneel on the floor. His 
hands locked on her hips like two steel vises. His fingertips gouged into 
her belly, and Linda felt the hard, steely heat of his cockhead graze along 
her piss-soaked trough. 

With a single ramming jab, his cockhead popped past the constricted ring of 
her cuntmouth. Linda felt the foreskin peel back, then slip into her cunt 
along with the rest of his prick. She collapsed. 

And her head lit right in the draining pool of her own piss. Linda still 
tasted the head of Ignacio's cock, like a load of oily dust in her mouth. 
Saliva and piss and the sweat of pure terror covered her face. She felt 
Ignacio plumb the depths of her cunt with his cock, and she started to come. 

Linda couldn't stop herself. The jailers and the bandits had trained her too 
well. Now all she needed was pain and shame and a single swift thrust of 
prick to make her start clenching and clasping around any cock that could 
part her twatflesh. The ripples of release sped along her nerves in a series 
of erotic shudders. 

The first orgasm ended quickly. Ignacio was stroking in and out, moaning 
praises of the tight, hot sweetness of her cunt. His prick nudged against 
her cervix and his belly found her ass. Linda bent forward further, turning 
her head to the side. 

Ignacio loved fucking, and Linda felt his excitement infect her. He rolled 
his hips lasciviously against the mounds of her ass. His hands came around 
her body. One of them locked onto her tits, massaging first one, then the 
other. Her nipples begged for more. 

His other hand found the diamond-hard spike of her clitty and rubbed. He 
pushed the pink pellet down toward the shaft of his plunging cock, then 
rubbed it up and away. Linda shivered with lewd sensation. She couldn't stop 
the exquisite train of feeling. 

And she didn't want to. The constant rolling of her clitty made her cunt 
tighten deliciously around Ignacio's prick. She moved in counterpoint to his 
rolling, swiveling, luxurious strokes. Her asscheeks came alive, feeling 
every hair on his belly. Even the tight ring of her asshole opened and shut 
in time to his strokes, trapping cockhairs with each push. Every time the 
frolicking Cuban pulled away again, the hairs threaded out, sending 
obscenely delicious sensations to Linda's brain. 

Linda felt Ignacio tensing behind her. Was he finally ready to come? She 
worked harder against him. Every cell in her ass, every juicy nerve in her 
pussy was ready for him. She rolled and moaned, fucking back at his hard, 
cream-coated prick with everything she had. 

Ignacio panted and gasped behind her. His tit-fondling hand tensed, mashing 
the firm masses of her boobs into her ribs. Linda could hardly breathe with 
the sheer excitement of the moment. She felt his balls swinging free, 
touching her cuntlips, and she wanted his come as badly as she'd wanted to 
get away from him. 

Ignacio was ready. Linda felt the slight hitch in his motions, the swelling 
of his cockhead. He pulled out until the flange of his knob tugged against 
her cuntring. He plunged in again, stripping the nerves in her crotch with 
the speed and power of his fuckstroke. 

Her clit was on fire! Ignacio grabbed the tight triangular fold of her 
clittyhood and pinched it between his fingernails. Linda panicked. A wall of 
lust crumbled over her. The lancing pain in her clit made her cunt start 
collapsing around his plunging meat. She screamed and wailed. Her voice rose 
and fell like a siren. The sheer excess of heat in her crotch drove her 
crazy. She beat her fists in the piss on the bed. She kicked her feet 
against the floor. She tore her breasts away from his hand, arching like a 
hooked swordfish. 

Linda bent forward again. She shoved her ass back at him. The redhead 
bucked, all but throwing him off. Only the crowbar-hard grip of his arm 
around her waist held Ignacio on her. His cock pounded back and forth, 
blistering the walls of her cunt. 

Linda spasmed over and over. She was coming so frantically that her teeth 
chattered. She moaned and swore, begging Ignacio to fuck harder, to come 
faster. She battled with him, flinging her clasping cuntmouth against the 
base of his jizz-heavy cock. Linda went insane. 

Ignacio's powerful strokes drove her forward onto her face. Linda swiveled 
away from the pallet in passionate ecstasy. She lay now on her belly. Dust 
rose around her. She arched back again, clutching for his ass. Linda found 
the tensed cheeks and drove him into her cunt even harder. 

She lost all track of time. Linda fucked on and on and on, rolling and 
groveling even after Ignacio had shot. With a last, heavy sigh, she 
shuddered into silence. Ripples of unwinding tension chased over her body. 

Ignacio pulled out, amazed. He rolled away from the prone redhead. His 
juice-greased prick flopped across his thigh. "Much woman .. much, much 
woman," he whispered. "No wonder the Castristos looked so tired." He slowly 
stood and stepped into his pants. It was best not to keep the Army waiting. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

The glare of daylight blinded her. Linda cowered against the sun when the 
soldiers dragged her out of the peasant's hut. She tried to stand and walk 
on her own, but more hands grabbed her legs. With her arms and legs bent 
back, her breasts and hair dangling, she swung between four men. On a 
two-count they swung her back, forward, and let go. "AHHH-unnh!" she 
grunted, landing on the floor of a truck. Booted feet clumped in around her 
and the truck started. 

It was the same convoy, continuing confinently toward the sugar mills near 
Santa Ynez. Linda kept her head down, afraid to look at the soldiers. She 
heard them muttering, laughing, planning above her, and their words filled 
her with sickening fear. She would be taken back to Havana that night, and 
given to Colonel Almieda again. In the morning, she would be tried, then 
hung alongside the corpses of the guerrilla band. 

"What can Almieda do that we can't?" one of the soldiers asked. 

"Nothing but keep her alive longer," another cautioned. "El Capitan wishes 
her to live through the trial." 

"Oh, she will live," the first one said. A foot ground down between her 
thighs, pinching her skin against the floor of the truck. 

Linda jerked her legs open. The splintery wooden floor abraded her skin, and 
the constant jiggling bounce of the hard-sprung truck made her flesh ripple. 
A hand grasped her arm. "Turn over," one said. 

Linda rolled as he tugged. She lay on her back, looking up at eight of the 
army's finest. The gleams in their eyes reminded her of Guitierrez and the 
colonel. She couldn't even turn her head away, with four of them staring 
down at her from each side. The truck slowed briefly, and her shoulders and 
asscheeks filled with splinters as she slid forward. 

The pain in her back was nothing compared to the fear Linda felt when one 
soldier pulled his gun off his shoulder. He grasped the stock in both hands 
and teased the point of his bayonet along her left thigh. 

Tiny flicking motions of the knife made her sweat and tremble. Linda opened 
her legs, and he stabbed down at her knee. 

The soldiers all laughed at her squeal of fear. The bayonet stuck deep in 
the floorboard, the rifle swaying above it. On her right, another soldier 
scraped his bayonet against the inside of her knee. The razor-sharp edge 
stung into her skin with great delicacy. He half-stood to force his rifle 
into the wood. 

Now she was straddling the blades of two bayonets. The one on the left 
weaved from the vertical in three-inch swings; the rifle on the left bobbed 
at a forty-five degree angle. 

The soldiers talked about her pussy, about the way the hair grew, the 
pouting curve of the outer lips, the meaty red of the inner slices. Linda 
was almost ashamed to feel fear. A soldier next to her head traced the swell 
of her titties with his bayonet, poking the very tip barely into the skin at 
the base of each mound. "Su rubrica, su rubica," one called, urging him to 
carve his initials in her tits. The soldier giggled. 

A line of pinpricks followed the line where her breast met her chest, then 
the cold, blood-tinged blade flirted with her nipples. Linda lay there in 
panic, wondering when the jerky motion of the truck would throw her up at 
the bayonet. She stared at the knife, at the gun barrel, at the hands that 
held the rifle. Every detail of the bayonet stuck in her mind, from the 
blood groove on each side to the little nick in the leather-wrapped handle. 

Flick! Flick! Flic-flick! the bayonet whispered, knocking her rubbery 
nipples up and down. Linda tried crawling up, away from the two knives that 
held her legs open, but the front soldier on the right put his bayonet 
against her shoulder. "Hold still," he said sternly. 

The youngest of the soldiers was still flipping her nipples back and forth 
with his knife. Linda felt the erect spikes of her titty-tips sending little 
jolts of energy down to her clitty. Her cunt was starting to ooze cream now, 
and the button of her clit was half-hard. She tried reflexively to close her 
legs, and the angled bayonet sliced another line on the inside of her knee. 

What happens if I start to come? Linda wondered, horrified. If they aroused 
her enough for her body to take over, she would slice her legs to the bone 
on the cruel bayonets. She drew a deep breath and concentrated on holding 
her lewd feelings down. 

The bayonet at her shoulder moved up, trailing cold along her neck, then 
tracing the line of her jaw. Linda looked at it from the corner of her eye. 
She was terrified. A rut in the road made the whole truck jump, and a blade 
nicked just under her chin. It took an instant longer for the pain under her 
left nipple to hit. The soldier pulled a quarter-inch of bayonet out of her 
titmound. Linda felt the sticky flow of blood run past her armpit and start 
collecting under her back. 

The steely chill suddenly appeared alongside her pussy. A knife trailed up 
the left side of her cuntlips, dragging cold along the hinge of her thigh.It 
stopped near her hipbone, then trailed back down. With gruesome care, the 
soldier went down the left side of her cuntal vee, braced the point of the 
knife on the floor, and rolled it obscenely across the mouth of her pussy. 

Linda held her breath. The gut-freezing intimacy of the knife held her 
perfectly still for a long second. The back edge of the bayonet slipped 
along the above the groove at the right side of her cunt. 

Linda felt a gush of warm relief start from her cunt. The peasant's come 
washed outward on the tide of cuntcream, running down her asscrack and 
puddling between her cheeks. The probing, sliding, spine-chilling touch of 
the bayonets had almost made her forget her shame until that instant. Now 
the rush of semen made her cringe with the shredded remanants of her 
modesty. 

The knife kept circling in her crotch, the tip flicking her inner labia 
open, the flat chilling her cuntmouth. Linda quivered with the urge to 
scream, to panic and run, but the bayonets at her knees, her shoulder, her 
breast held her down. She felt the heat of her cunt start to radiate. She 
knew from the sensations in her crotch that the meaty red of her inner labia 
had spread beyond the base of her cunt. Even the tops of her thighs were 
heating, as was the abused, torn ring of her asshole. She wished they would 
end it, simply spear her through with the bayonets, but Almieda was waiting 
for her. Linda closed her eyes and started to weep. 

The combination of fear, shame, and horny anticipation was overpowering. 
Linda sobbed, and her hips rolled up toward the knife at her cunt. The 
soldier pulled it away. 

Instantly, Linda felt the hard wooden shape of the gun butt against her 
pussy. The steel plate at the base chilled her clit, and a quick spasm of 
delicious sensuality raced through her. The soldier rubbed the stock up and 
down, spreading the crease from her cuntmouth all along the central stripe 
of her twat. Linda moaned and moved her hips against the hard wood. 

The soldiers commented on her response. Linda kept weeping while her hips 
moved in a lewd coital movement. Now shame overwhelmed her, but she could 
not stop the reactions of her body. She moved from side to side, pressing 
her knees against the bayonets. Her asscheeks flexed, and the slow, willowy 
moves of her torso invited more erogenous action. 

A hand replaced the bayonet at her breast. The soldier kneaded her tit into 
a firm cone of sensuous flesh, milking at the tip with his thumb, squeezing 
the side with his fingers. Linda moaned. She twisted her shoulders. Linda 
pressed her tit more firmly against his hand. 

The gun butt moved away from her cunt. Linda felt the invasion of fingers in 
her vagina. She welcomed them with a wet, satiny clasp of cuntflesh, like a 
sucking kiss. She reached for the boots of the soldiers nearest her. She 
tugged pleadingly at them. 

A thumb found its way into her asshole. It rubbed against the fingers in her 
pussy. Linda felt the growing knowledge that she would come. It gathered in 
her, swelling like a balloon of warm fluid. She cooed under her breath. 

Her legs rubbed up and down the bayonets. One soldier pulled his out of the 
floorboard. He pricked her thighs with the tip, keeping her legs open. 

The pain and the pleasure mingled inside her. Linda wanted to feel something 
bigger and harder, something more forceful than the fingers in her cunt. She 
murmured, "Please, ohhh, please!" Her hips rolled like a belly dancer's. 

One of the soldiers unfixed his bayonet. Three different men grabbed the 
length of his weapon. They pressed it against the back of the hand of the 
fingerfucker. With a tap, they persuaded him to stop. 

Linda screamed, then worked against it. She felt the cold, slippery metal 
invade her ass like a relentless cock. She twisted and rolled, milking 
sensation from it. The men pushed it deeper, then pulled it halfway out. The 
triple-bladed sight forced her asstube open, it pulled at her rectum from 
within. Linda sighed, "Yes, oh, my pussy, yes!" 

One of the soldiers took a fat cigar from his mouth. He gnawed the end into 
a chewed, wet-brown mess and shoved it into her cunt. The unchewed end poked 
from her cunt like a stubby prick. Linda worked it in and out. 

The soldiers marveled. The cigar was moving up and down, circling from side 
to side without being touched. Linda swivled around the gun and the stogie, 
fucking her hips upward. The brown of tobacco juice ran from her cunt, 
mingling with the semen and cuntcream under her upraised ass. 

The soldiers placed bets on how long she would keep going. Linda felt the 
truck slow, then speed up. It didn't matter. As long as she could clench her 
cuntwalls around something, as long as her clitty felt the kiss of 
stretching labia, she would be okay. 

The truck came nearly to a stop, then ground forward again. Linda rolled 
from side to side, falling against the soldier's legs with every twist in 
the road. She hummed tunelessly, milking pleasure from the cylinders in her 
crotch. She reached down and put both hands over pussy. The cigar went in 
further. Linda started manipulating her clit. 

The feelings were building up. Linda didn't care now that eight amazed men 
watched her, that she was a condemned prisoner, that she would be in Colonel 
Almieda's hands that night. All that mattered was the feeling building in 
her cunt and the hard length of steel in her asshole. 

The rifle clunked against the floorboard. She rolled from side to side. 
Linda was riding higher, higher, approaching the peak. She breathed in 
short, sharp v gusts. Her pussy was tightening, mouthing the cigar. Her 
clitty felt harder and harder. Every touch of her hands sent electric shocks 
along her spine. She muttered louder, louder. 

The splintered wood under her dug into her again. Linda twisted lasciviously 
on the floorboards, reveling in every iota of sensation. If it was pain, so 
much the better ... it justified her pleasure. The truck turned, and Linda 
rolled face-first against boots. She was halfway under the bench, up against 
ammo boxes and packs. She struggled back to the center of truck and fucked 
at the rifle and cuntfull of cigar. 

The noise of the rifle on the floorboards was constant. Linda felt the 
whirling knot in her belly expand. It was ready, all but ready to take her 
over. She arched high, then fell back down. With a singeing twist of her 
clitty, Linda started her orgasm. 

She cooed and arched, fucking at an imaginary lover. Over and over the 
luxurious waves of feeling ran through her. She moaned with delight. Linda 
ignored the sounds of the soldiers, the stopping of the truck. She knew 
they'd restarted, but it didn't matter nearly as much as her come. 

A pleasant warmth washed over her. Linda wondered how long she could keep 
coming. She let her muscles go limp at last, then opened her eyes. She 
smiled at the soldiers. Linda cruised off into drowsiness. A nap would be 
nice ... very nice, she thought. Linda reached down past her pussy. None of 
the soldiers stopped her when she pulled the rifle barrel from her ass. The 
gun sight caused a twinge of pain at the top of her assring, but the single 
quick spasm was no worse then the entry had been. She pulled the cigar out 
of her pussy. 

Roaring, raging hell broke loose. The truck squealed to a stop, turning 
sideways on the road. Linda skidded forward into a man's feet. The soldiers 
trampled her in their haste to get out. The column was under attack! 

Machine guns rattled and clanged. The sides of the truck ripped. Bullets 
poured through the canvas. A huge explosion, then another, shook the whole 
vehicle. Linda's head slammed against the floorboards. She crawled under the 
bench seat, her head ringing. 

Five minute of explosions, machine guns, rifle shots raged. Linda looked for 
a weapon. I must be the Sixth Column! she realized. I have to help them! 

There was not a pistol, not a peashooter to be found. The hot "thwup!" of a 
bullet snapped past her head. Linda crouched, rummaging through the cases 
and the packs. 

Screams and the sound of burning trucks assaulted her ears. Linda hurried. 
The truck might blow up anytime. She found a case of hand grenades and threw 
it out the tailgate. Finally daring to look outside, she saw guerillas 
scattered all round the trucks. The machine guns on the jeeps were silent. 
Dodging, firing their rifles from the hip, two bearded men scrambled to a 
jeep and swung the machine gun around. The brutal hammering of fifty-caliber 
rounds started again. 

Linda saw an Army soldier reach for her case of grenades. She jumped out of 
the truck and clawed at his face. 

A bullet nipped the flesh of her shoulder. Linda felt the soldier go limp. 
Naked and bleeding, she dragged the heavy case around the side of the truck. 
She clawed at the top. Shouts rang out. The firing stopped. 

Linda finally got the top off the crate. Her fingers were ripped, her nails 
torn back. A last gunshot rang out. 

The guerillas rose from their hiding places. Linda watched as a dozen 
government soldiers, hands high, walked slowly to the edge of the road. A 
wounded officer stood in the middle of the group. 

Linda set her grenade down. She surveyed the faces of the Castristos. They 
were suprised to see her there, but the prisoners were their first 
responsibility. She waited next to the truck. 

Something seemed familiar about one of the guerrilas, a small one near the 
rear. It was the way he moved ... not like the jungle-running regulars of 
the rebel army. Linda watched him carefully, waiting for him to turn around. 

"Maxine! Max! Oh, my God, I'm so glad to see you!" Linda called. She ran 
toward the girl, her hands held out in a desperate embrace. 

Maxine looked shocked. She stared and shook her head. The red hair was long 
and tangled ... the body was dirty, covered with blood and grime. 

"It's me, Linda, Linda Martin! God, Max, I-" 

Maxine swung her Garand across her body. At ten yards, she fired. 
"Murderer!" she snapped. "That's for Judy!" 

Linda fell at the edge of the roadway. Her hands went halfway to the wound 
in the center of her chest. 

The hammerblow force of the bullet shocked her. She looked at Maxine 
quizzically. The pain hadn't started yet ... the naked redhead curled in on 
herself. Her thoughts went back to Akron ... as close as she'd ever get to 
home. 


THE END
