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The Darker Side of Combat!	By : Krystal_Frame Category: -Misc TV Shows > General Views: 2821 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Combat! I make no money off of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
It had been a long day, and it would be an even longer night. Hanley had set up his CP inside a shelled chapel, and the rain had started almost the instant the truck the instruments arrived. They set up phone lines in the rain, Hanley typed reports in the rain, he processed three recommendations for medals and fifteen squad reports in the rain, and he'd eaten two and a half meals in the rain. He'd hunted through every inch of that chapel for some small corner that was dry, where he could curl up with a blanket and sleep dry for a few hours.
No such luck. The slicker he normally wore had to be used to shelter the radio and phone so...he got wet.
There were very few civilians in the small village. Most of them were young kids. One of them, a young woman of about twenty, had been quick to greet the soldiers. When she'd been gifted with chocolate, coffee and other food supplies by soldiers hoping to win her favor, she'd disappeared into a small cottage with the supplies, then returned to the CP with hot coffee, biscuits and wine. Hanley had seemed to be the target of her gift giving from the start. He'd done what he could to spread the goodness around, hoping the young lady would catch on and take the focus off him.
She'd finally gone back to her cottage and the flickering candle light had gone out a few hours ago. Hanley had watched the cottage for a bit. Dreaming about the warmth, and the dry, and knowing that the young lady wasn't likely to put up an objection if he knocked on the door and asked for a corner to sleep in.
It was also highly inappropriate. Hanley would talk to his platoon sergeant about securing better quarters for the CP, and strongly suggest that he make sure the place had a damned roof.
Hanley was strongly considering trying to curl up under the table when the rain turned into a thunderstorm. He heard the distant rumble, then saw the first flash of lightning, and stood up, standing on the stoop of the chapel as he watched the darker, heavier clouds roll in. He put the radio and phone under the table and moved everything up against the wall that the least wet, hoping to avoid attracting lightning, then decided to walk up the street to talk to the battalion aide folks. They were crowded into their trucks, waiting for tents to arrive in the morning.
Before Hanley could get too far up the street the door to the cottage opened and the girl beckoned him closer with a softly whispered patter of French.
Hanley shook his head at himself, but turned and went to the front step of the small building, ducking his head under the peaked roof. "Mademoiselle, I can't-"
He didn't finish his sentence. A gun was cocked inside the dark cottage, then a male hand shot out and dragged Hanley into the cottage. The door slammed shut behind him, and he was cast into pitch darkness. Curtains were drawn over the windows, there was no fire or candles, and certainly no electricity. Even the flashes from the storm were hidden.
Hanley's arms were dragged behind his back, then tied. He could hear many voices in the cottage, all female. They were whispering harshly at one another, some of them breaking into giggles as he was pushed and shoved around the room.
An argument started when Hanley was pushed down onto something soft and forgiving that creaked. A bed, he figured. Then his hands were released. As he leaned forward to stand he felt the cold metal of the gun against his cheek and he froze, his fingers and hands extended.
"I...I didn't want to come in here, ladies. You forced me." He said, more confused than anything else. The voices pattered on, asking each other questions before a firmer, more mature voice gave an order.
Without warning, Hanley was clobbered in the back of the head. In perfect rhythm with the storm outside, Hanley saw a bright light in front of his eyes, then nothing.
When he woke he was tied to the bed. Candles had been lit around the single room of the cottage, and he was completely naked. His arms and legs were tied to the posts of the large bed and his body was alternately freezing, and warm and wet. It took some time to open his eyes against the throbbing, the sensitivity to light, and the nausea. When he did he saw that he was being bathed by three women, all of whom looked precisely the same.
Triplets, he assumed. Long straight dark hair, dark brown eyes. Slender but shapely frames hidden by shapeless night gowns. The girls were using sponges to clean his body and hair, then drying the wet patches with towels that left goosepimples behind.
The older voice spoke from beside the now lit fireplace and Hanley lifted his aching head to see what might have been an older sister sitting in a rocking chair. She was working with knitting needles, putting together something with blue yarn.
Hanley tested his bonds and found that the knots in the rope were well tied, but the posts of the bed weren't terribly secure. The girls finished drying him off then took the water, soap and sponges away, chattering quietly amongst themselves.
"I hate...to break it to you..." Hanley said, struggling still against the dizziness. "But kidnapping an officer...is a terrible crime."
He tried lifting his head again and this time looked around the room for his uniform. He found it hanging, neatly, on hangers against one of the walls. He yanked hard on his bonds, rattling the bed frame. A second later he heard the click-click of the gun. He looked up and found the older sister pointing a Luger at him. She shook her head disapprovingly at his attempts at gaining his freedom, then called to the younger triplets.
"Denice." She shouted.
One of the girls entered the room through a curtain that Hanley had barely realized was there. She was smiling, blushing, and gave her older sister a shy look before she went to Hanley. She curtsied to him, then looked to her sister.
"Commencer." The older woman said.
Denice giggled then sat on the bed and hesitantly put a hand on Hanley's chest. She leaned forward, blushed even harder, then placed a kiss on his cheek. Still dwarfed by the gown, she climbed onto the bed, got between his legs, then reached out hesitant fingers to run her nails over his flaccid length.
"Uh...hey. Denice. Don't...don't do that." Hanley said. "Listen, what's your sister's name? Huh?" Hanley nodded toward the woman in the corner. Even while he spoke Denice continued to touch him, making fledgling efforts to wake his member. "Her...sister. Hey...Dowager...listen, this isn't ok. Make her stop please."
He was ignored. He could feel pressure building in his belly, and knew that despite the total wrongness of the situation, his body was responding. "Denice...arreter. Stop it. Now...STOP!" He shouted.
When his tone changed, the older woman in the chair launched to her feet, crossing the floor between them and jamming the gun into Hanley's chest, just below his right nipple. The woman fiercely spat angry French at him, digging the muzzle in so hard that a rough edge on the barrel scraped his skin open, drawing blood.
Hanley didn't understand the French, but he got the idea. Making noise would get him shot or dead. Despite the raised and angry voices, Denice's attention hadn't waned. She'd grown brave enough to put her hands around him and had begun squeezing and pulling on his length like it was the teet on a cow. It was almost painful.
The older sister seemed to realize and gave instruction to Denice. The girl nodded earlier and lightened up with her touch. Hanley dropped his head back to the pillow, groaned at the throbbing in his head, and now the bruise on his chest, and tried to think.
Men were scarce. Four women alone. It made sense that they were starved for male attention. Maybe this was sex education for the girls. Maybe they were preparing for returning husbands or boyfriends. His thoughts were constantly going astray as the girl began to get a response. He was hardening in her hands, and she watched the physiological change with fascination. When he was semi-hard, she turned to her sister and asked a question.
This time he caught the older woman's name. Nicole.
Nicole rose from her chair, inspected Denice's work, then nodded in approval.
Denice promptly lifted her gown from her body and was suddenly stark naked in front of Hanley. Under the sheet of fine, shining hair were cream shoulders, soft muscles, pert, dew drop breasts and a darkly-furred snatch. The girl quickly went to the task of getting herself excited, rubbing at herself and moaning. When she'd found a rhythm she put out a hand and once more took hold of Hanley, stroking him eagerly.
A cautioning word came from Nicole and Denice, still moaning, nodded her head and spoke her understanding. Then she moved up, straddled Hanley, lined his head up, and sank over him with a deep, hearty moan. She was tight, hot and wet inside. Not a virgin, but Hanley knew that there was more than sex that could affect a hymen. She had taken all of him in one go and began bouncing against his hips, her eyes closed, completely lost in her own pleasure. As if she'd done it before.
Impossibly, Hanley watched as Denice worked her legs out from under her, then got her feet planted on the bed and squatted over him, still bouncing up and down. Her flexibility was incredible. She would stop every few moments to rock back and forth, pleasuring herself by rubbing her nub over his loins. Hanley, the man, wasn't necessary. Only his erect member, and as Hanley realized a moment later, his seed.
He tried to warn her when he was nearing his climax, and tried to dislodge her from his hips, but she clung to him, intent on gaining her prize. When he came she pressed herself hard to his flesh, keeping him buried inside until his hips had returned to the bedspread. When she pulled away she pressed her fingers down to her opening to stop his semen from escaping, grabbed her nightgown, then skittered into the side room, giggling.
"Danielle!" Nicole called.
Another girl appeared. Danielle had more experience and more patience. She liked to be watched and she danced in front of Hanley, stripping for him before she crawled onto the bed. She used her tongue to bring him back to life, then her mouth, making him throb with need while she pleasured herself. She was tighter than her sister, and not able to take him all at once as Denice had. Danielle was slow and steady, compared to her sister, and grunted with each thrust, her brow furrowed in concentration.
She came before he did, splashing liquid on his torso that smelled of her sex, but felt like urine. Her whole body shook while she squirted, and when she lowered herself back onto him, she was still tighter than before. She vibrated on top of him, lost in her euphoria for a long time before she began to thrust. Again when Hanley warned her of his impending eruption, she pressed her hips to his, took everything he had to offer, then clamped her fingers over her opening and disappeared.
"Denari!"
Denari came out naked. She walked to the bed, straddled Hanley, and settled over him with his flaccid head nestled between her lips. With her hair shielding their faces, Denari payed avid attention to Hanley's lips, neck, throat and chest. She played with his nipples, used her fingernails to alternate gouge and caress his skin, all the while moving her hips back and forth, stroking him to life with only her cleft.
When he was hard, Denari moved only centimeters, slipping over him while her torso, breasts and hips were still pressed to his skin. She lay over him for the duration, moaning into his chest, her fingers constantly exploring every surface while her hips, with a mind of their own, stimulated him below. He came quickly. He was exhausted, sore and despite the kind attention of the different women, he'd grown tired of the game.
He half expected Nicole to take her own turn, but after Denari disappeared, the older woman simply rose from her seat, covered Hanley with a blanket, then turned out the lights.
Hanley passed out.
Hours later he was awakened by hands, lips, tongues. All three girls, at once, fondling and arousing him in the darkness. Once he was erect, one of them sank down over him. Another was sliding her sex back and forth over one of his legs, and the third was toying with his cock, everytime the one riding him would give her access. He came, the girls did everything they could to revive him, and another one climbed on board.
This continued until he passed out again.
Hanley finally woke, dressed, sore as hell, and groggy on the steps to the chapel. The door to the cottage across the street hung open, and once Hanley managed to get to, and stay upright, on his feet, he charged into the house.
It was vacant. The bed, the rocking chair, and every scrap of furniture that he remembered from the night before was gone. Even the fireplace was cold and completely free of ash and coals. Later that day he found a mirror and lifted his shirt to look for the bruise Nicole had left with the gun.
There it was, oddly shaped like a heart, looking more like a hickey than a bruise.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Darker Side of Combat!