Copyright (c) 2019,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, June 17, 2019

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: wendri21.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: Men/little girls, MMM+/gg(9,7), gangbang, rape

story_intro: When two very young sisters venture out of the shantytown where they live in search of food, they get discovered by a gang who turn the innocent pair into the main course for a feast of hardcore sex.


story_language: English







Wendria: Story 21 - Rabbit Hunting

Written by madvlad


	Heathrow Aerodrome boasted the most modern passenger amenities in Anglia and was widely considered the best in the Trinity Seas countries. Growing like a mottled fungus on the outside of the northwest fence of it, though, was the collection of discarded shipping crates and cartons that housed the human refuse from the capital city of Yorkton. Emerging from behind the torn section of a tarp that served as the front of her crate home, a small figure emerged and peered at the twilight sky.

	There were two of them approaching, she saw - cloud skippers. It was getting quite late for them as the small craft were rarely flown at night. The wind caught the long brown strands of Jenny's hair as she watched the skippers grow near. The pilots looked on the small side and Jenny knew they were probably children not much older than she was. But unlike her, they were free and independent because of their flying skills.

	The nine year-old waved with one arm in full sweep. The pilots did respond as they descended, lifting a hand each for a small wave in return as they passed. Jenny could see a bit of blonde hair coming out from the back of the lead pilot's leather helmet and sighed - not only a youngster but a girl as well. Sighing as she turned back to regard her crate - actually two of them poorly cobbled together - and knew she had to think about what was needed on the ground instead of fleeting dreams in the sky. 

	Papa hadn't been around for a few months and Jenny guessed he was in jail again. Usually, when he came home, it was long enough to make loud noises with Mama in the dark for a few nights before disappearing again in search of trouble. And trouble meant he was usually caught which meant in turn a cot under a non-leaking roof and three meals a day. Jenny and her two younger sisters were results of his occasional home visits. They also had an older brother who would be thirteen by now but hadn't been seen for over a year.

	Jenny's main problem at the moment was that Mama had been gone for four days. Sometimes she was gone for a night here or there and Jenny suspected she went to another crate to make loud noises with a man living there or sometimes she ventured out to the nearby taverns along Tyburn Road when one of the large airships docked at Heathrow. For some reason, Mama could get paid for letting men make loud noises with her.

	Jenny didn't know much about those loud noises except that there were plenty of them to be heard from inside the packing boxes in Tyburn Village. (She had heard that title for their area from Yorktoners who named it after the main road that led to and from the aerodrome.) But the girl did know that she and her sisters were getting awfully hungry. 

	Tonight, she would leave her sisters in their slumber and make her way to the network of twisted alleys that grew from Tyburn Road like the branches of a crazed tree. There would be scraps of food in the dustbins behind the taverns and she knew that their mother had done this for their supper more than once.

	That evening, she settled her little sisters down amid the collection of rags that acted as a mattress and another section of the same tarp that had furbished their front wall was their blanket. Alice had boldly announced that she would go find supper for them all but Tyburn Village was even less safe by night and someone might try to rob the seven year-old even if she had nothing to be stolen. 

	They might even do worse. Jenny had heard that plenty of times - "or worse". It didn't mean killing or beating but there was always the threat of "or worse" lurking in the shadows. There were occasional gangs of graft-droogs, terrifying men who grafted bits of metal to their bodies for decoration or other purposes, who were known to do "or worse". That she had heard from her mother and other women when they thought they were not in earshot of the children.

	Patsy didn't say anything, as usual. She just managed a discontented whine and gave her eldest sister a disconsolate look with her dark eyes before settling under the tarp with Alice. Jenny waited in the dark of the crate; both eager and fearful of her forthcoming venture. After she was satisfied that her sisters would not stir, she pushed the tarp aside and crawled out. She was perhaps ten steps from the crate when Alice hissed her name in the moonless night. 

	"Go back to bed," Jenny scolded and was answered by the crunch of small footsteps.

	"You're fetching supper, yeah?" Alice demanded, digging her fists against the sides of her shapeless charity dress. 

	"The dustbins off Tyburn," Jenny answered resignedly. Alice was too stubborn to be begged off from this trip. "You do as I saw and be quiet about it."

	Alice didn't reply but Jenny could vaguely make out the outline of her figure and saw how one arm was angled. She could picture her sister moving her finger up and down over her mouth to mime that she would keep her lips stitched shut. 

	Alice was as good as her wordless word as they threaded their way toward the main road. Through the high weeds, Jenny could see the glow of campfires and eased close to see if those gathered around might be friendly or not. Sometimes, the aerodrome crews would get together out here, drinking their homebrews or store-bought liquor which was cheaper than the taverns - and often of better quality. They'd also roast some food over the flames and were known to offer some tidbits to the Tyburn children.

	But when Jenny peered through the narrow stocks, she could see the metallic glitter in the faces and quickly drew back.

	"Graft-droogs," she whispered to Alice who gulped. 

	Even Alice with her nave bravado never spoke of challenging one of them. Silently, the two girls made their way through the weeds skirting the encampment.

	Jink belched and unzipped the leather pouch on his belt. He slid two metal-rimmed circles of glass inside and selected two others. The glass had been tinted and worked to allow for limited night-vision. Ostensibly, this was only supposed to be available to the police and military, but - as Jink liked to say - where there was a droog, there was a way.

	His way usually meant using his fists or something he was holding in them. Embedded around his eye sockets were metal rings with threads that matched the lenses he was holding. Screwing them in, he nodded and took a swig of something that tried to pass for Muscovian vodka (more likely brewed in an Oldham basement) and peered around the camp with an enhanced view.

	Two of his lads were having a go at Mary, a well-used twenty year-old the gang had owned for seven years. They had owned three other cunts as well but they had been bartered away recently for some badly needed azurine crystals - the solid prime kind - to power their steam roadsters. After years of heavy alcohol, heavy narcos, and heavy dicks, Mary was getting a bit used up. But, as Shikey, Jink's second-in-command, pointed out, she was better than one's hand. That she was, Jink conceded, but not by much. 

	Raising the bottle again, he slowly turned his head to the right to see if there was anything else that might pass for entertainment. The bottle stopped at his lips before he lowered it and fixed his gaze in one area where the tall moth-tail grasses were moving in a way that was inconsistent with the night breeze.

	"Laz, Morl," he softly called to two nearby drinkers. "We gots us some skulkers."

	The two got up and motioned for some others to join them. While their kind preferred mayhem and partying, they also knew well to respond to any threat be it coppers or - worse - rival gangs of graft-droogs. Jink watched as they slipped into flora. There was a flurry of movement which made the weeds thrash and some high screams before the laughter of his men took over. Then the grasses parted and the gang members came through pushing two wide-eyed little girls in front of them.

	"Caughts us some little rabbits!" Laz slurred.

	"Tyburn trash," Shikey muttered from nearby. 

	"You got problems widdit?" Jink countered.

	"Nones at all," his lieutenant responded. "Facts is, who's going to the coppers if some wee bits of rubbish have gone missing, yeah?"

	"Yeah," Jink agreed as he flashed the new captives a wide smile that was anything but disarming while sauntering toward them. The others in the group also gathered around, penning the frightened sisters in.

	"Well now," Jink announced loudly. "We is honored to have visitors widdus, tonight. And your ladies' names is?"

	The older one managed to speak after a moment.

	"My name is Jenny and this is Alice. "Please, sir, we were not trying to make trouble for you."

	"Oh, you're no troubles at all," Jink said. "Facts is, it's us that thinks the pairs of you went to too much troubles to make yourselves all fancy for us. Such tasty little rabbits you is."

	Jenny looked confused while Alice continued to tremble. Laz, a dark-haired man with a pattern of small metal nails protruding through the skin of his forehead stood next to the seven year-old and was licking his lips. 

	"You is all overdressed for this grand occasion," Jink continued. "Lads, helps 'em get informal-like so they cans be all relaxed like good little rabbits."

	The girls were grabbed and quickly stripped. The cheap fabric tore easily and they were soon rendered nude. Jink unscrewed his night-vision lenses and replaced them with clears ones with slight magnifying qualities. Then he unbuttoned his pants and motioned for Jenny to be pushed to the ground. 

	"Ever had a tumble, little rabbit?" Jink asked her as he pinned her against the dirt. 

	Jenny had tripped and fallen many times in the course of playing but somehow sensed that the man meant something else. Perhaps the dreaded "or worse". 

	Jink chuckled as he read her expression.

	"Guess not, then," he noted as he opened her thighs and lowered his prick to the bald slit between her legs. "No worries, Professor Jink will learns you right."

	The man hunched against the little girl, producing fresh screams as he ripped through her virgin membrane. Hot blood made her innocent channel slick for him and he wrenched the nine year-old's twat wide open as he drove the hard spike of his cock into her. Jenny thrashed beneath him, her smooth slim body brushing against his heavy, hairy one as he threatened to split her apart inside.

	Jenny's girlish pussy squeezed around his thrusting member, lubricating from the forced contact as her strength ebbed with each deep push into her. Jink pounded her cervix as he tried to cram as much of his monster as possible into her unready loins. With the stiff meat slamming away in her abused little hole, Jenny's smooth labia pooched and thinned from the motion. The man's grunts became louder and she sensed that something else would happen - something she didn't know about and didn't want to.

	With a roar, Jink pumped his seed into his small victim, capping the end to her childhood innocence. Pulling his penis out, he wiped it against one slender thigh and left a reddened smear on the delicate pale skin. Regarding the bloody cum trickling from the little girl's wounded snatch, he cupper her chin to force her to look at him when he spoke.

	"You's droog meat now," he informed her. "You belongs to us."

	Then he turned to the others watching.

	"Gang property, lads," he announced.

	Jenny was lifted from the ground and held horizontally. One man was starting to enter her between her legs again while another was trying to put his tool in her mouth. She resisted, her eyes rolling wildly until she froze. 

	Another man - the one with the spiked forehead - was standing with his feet set wide apart as he bounced Alice up and down. Her little sister was bawling and then Alice saw how his meat was working into the hairless entrance of the seven year-old's virgin cunt. Stunned by the horror of it, Jenny surrendered and let her mouth be opened. 

	After Laz ejaculated into the girl, Shikey took Alice from him. He laughed as she put a hand over the bald swell of her ravaged little quim.

	"You didn't likes it there?" he asked. "It's an acquired taste and you'll acquire it soons enough. Meanswhile..."

	Turned her around and pushed his spit-covered dick between the tiny bubbles of the child's rump. When she felt where he was forcing against her, Alice flailed anew and shrieked when the man's prick punched through her asshole. The skin of her opening slightly tore in places, adding just a bit more liquid to aid in the penetration of her untried bowels. 

	When she left the hovel with her older sister, her belly had been empty. Now the cudgel of hard meat was filling her from the opposite way. He kept going further, working her back and forth to gain more depth on each push. The motions were just like the other man had done in her kitty. Alice sobbed when she realized that there was another place in her that the men would do this cruel thing. It wouldn't be long before she learned it was also done in her mouth.

	But Shikey was the only one in her at the moment. With her anus hideously stretched, Alice provided an erotic clamp for her attacker as he drilled the conquered sphincter. The seven year-old's oily rectum pressed hotly around the rutting cock, milking it until the child squirmed with new blasts of cream soiling the inside of her little virgin bottom.

	She was handled again by more men, held off the ground as her legs were spread for the next painful intrusion into her undersized pussy. This time, her tiny hole gurgled sluttishly from her first rape. Pink slime of blood and semen squirted from her hairless entrance as a man's tool bored into her. Any protest she might have screamed was plugged as her head was tilted back and she was forcibly introduced to fellatio.

	Mary sat in the dirt, idly scratching her oozing cunt as she watched the little girls get pressed into service. Jenny was on all fours like a dog and was being mounted like one from behind. Wincing as the prick cruelly enlarged her preteen pussy, Jenny kept her eyes shut as another man knelt in front of her and batted the parted lips of her mouth with his glans.

	Something caught the woman's eye and she saw someone else peering from the tall grass. For a moment, she thought about calling to some of the men waiting for another turn at the fresh little holes but she decided against it. While these younger bitches would ease the demands made on her, she didn't want any more competition than these two or else she might get ditched by the droogs. As fouled as her mind was, Mary had no illusions of making any sort of life for herself outside of the gang.

	Spying a narco pill someone had dropped in the dirt, she quickly snatched it before sending it down her throat with a swig of ersatz gin. That was better, now...

	Hours later, it was still dark but Jink warily eyed the eastern sky. There was no false dawn yet but it likely would not be long in coming. Soon after, these itty bitty tarts might be seen as missing in Tyburn Village and if people there got wind of the sordidness here tonight, there would be trouble. Sure, he and his fighters could take on twice as many of them without breaking a sweat, but four times as many? Or ten?

	And besides, his gang had these new tasty little tighties to enjoy; such lovely rabbits. Hell, they might be even offer a tumble with the tiny cunts as barter but they sure as hell would be keeping them.

	"Right! Load up, lads!" he ordered. "Making steam in a quarter hour and then we's gone before the crack of dawn."

	"Ooh, I likes getting a looks at Dawn's crack," one of his men joked before getting a few boo's and a clout on the head for his humor.

	Jenny and Alice were unconscious as their limp forms were loaded. Jenny's legs were flung apart to show her smooth little cunt glistening with escaping man-cum in the cleft. It didn't matter as she and her little sister's charms were now open for viewing and, as the girl now knew, "much worse". 

	Morl walked by carrying the equally knocked out Mary. Jink frowned, not sure whether to keep her before deciding she would. The little whores could only take so much a time before suffering lasting damage so Mary still had her uses. But getting her loaded wasn't Morl's job.

	"'Ey! Where's Laz?" he barked as Morl dropped Mary into the back of another roadster with less delicacy than the girls had been given. 

	"Dunno," the droog replied. "Lasts I sees him, he's staggering off toward the road widda bottle of hooch in each hand, the fucking bugger."

	Jink took a few steps toward Tyburn road and looked each way with no sign of his erstwhile droog. One fast rule of droog life was that if you pass out, you'd better do it in the camp or the keep where your mates can find you if trouble comes.

	"Fuck it," he rumbled with a shake of his head. "He'll has to catches up."

	A dull rim of gray was just appearing on the eastern horizon when the caravan rolled away. Patsy stepped into the clearing and wondered when the metal men would bring her sisters back. 

	The chauffeur set the throttle down on the steam before getting out to open a rear door in the stretched road coach. Recent developments in azurine power engineering made the newer electric coaches were more compact but their lines lacked the classic elegance of the steam engines. From the rear of the coach stepped a bearded gentleman with a dark red flower elegantly affixed to his coat lapel with a gold pin. 

	Basil Garfield surveyed the collection of city and aerodrome constables before settling on the mangled body nearby in the middle of Tyburn Road. Canting his head ever so slightly so as not to be seen as displaying a lurid interest in the  carnage, he noticed how half the skin of the corpse's face from cheek to forehead had been torn away when it was rolled under the wheel of a heavy vehicle. Squinting, Basil noticed metal nail-like projections fused to the man's exposed skull.

	A corner of Basil's mouth twisted in disgust. It wasn't about the ugly death; it was what the man had been in life - a graft-droog. In the near distance was the tumbled outline of the so-called Tyburn Village. 

	It was a place filled with those unwilling to help themselves, surely, but at least they knew their station and, if they caused trouble, kept it within the confines of their own places. Graft-droogs, meanwhile, relished wreaking havoc upon all classes of their betters. The Tyburn class were still people - ill-washed and ill-suited for society while droogs didn't even warrant the classification of being people. Just last month he had said that very thing while enjoying luncheon at his club and received hearty agreements all around. 

	But surely he hadn't been asked out here this morning to see this. There was nothing he had in common with such vermin.

	He snorted his annoyance just before a city constable with sergeant's chevrons on his sleeve hurriedly approached. The policeman started to salute before stopping himself. Basil Garfield was no police official but a highly respected member of Yorkton society and president of the charity that ran the Orphans' Grace Shelter. The latter was the reason Basil's presence had been requested.

	"Pardon the mess, sir," the sergeant explained as they passed the grisly remains. "A lorry driver taking cargo to Heathrow reported striking something in the dark but never stopped - a smart decision considering the layabouts and worse that roam these parts at night. 

	But over here is a slip of a girl, hardly more than a babe, who was found wandering by herself when we were called to the accident scene. My men questioned people in Tyburn and she likely lived there but no one has seen either parent for some time. There are other children in the family but no sign of them, either."

	A female auxiliary policewoman was tending to a grubby little brown-haired girl. Seeing Basil, the woman stood up and explained. 

	'She's says her name is Patsy and she waiting for her sisters to come back. Won't say anything else. The little darling was starving and near-frozen from the night. Perhaps she could have a bed in the orphanage which is why we called you."

	Basil nodded politely to the office before fixing his gaze on the girl. She was only wearing a flimsy dress - the kind given out by aid societies - what, despite her very young years, was outgrowing. Basil's tongue slid along the edge of his upper teeth as he drank in the shape of those tiny thighs that were mostly exposed beneath the dress sized for toddlers. When a breeze tickled the hem of the garment and lifted it slightly, Basil could see the smooth lower curve of one enticing little rump cheek.

	"The poor thing looks like a frightened little rabbit," the policewoman sighed with pity.

	There were other such rabbits in the orphanage; soft and cuddly and frightened into proper submission. Ah, yes, he thought as he controlled the rumble in his throat. Miss Patsy, here, would be a tight and tasty little rabbit, indeed.


Copyright (c) 2019 madvlad

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm

























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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