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FOUNDLING: LOST AND FOUND [ part 28 ] Morning after a horrific day. Foundling lay naked on the floor of the wagon. Hands and elbows tied behind her. Male sperm splattered her face and between her legs. Both her mouth and sex lips red raw from last night’s repeated abuse. She softly cried, both for the aches of her own body, and the missing Melissa. Further Abuse After winning the pit fight, they had been led back to the circular encampment and placed at the feet of their seated leader. He spoke to the translator; "You have done well for your first fight. Others will follow and your aggressive tactics will be remembered. The translator told them in very poor French. As a reward you will be fed well and allowed to stay together" The two tiny pit fighters were allowed to sit on a blanket by the leader's side and full plates of meat and potatoes were handed them. Tin cups of an alcohol-laced brew were pressed into their hands. They stuffed themselves as both had learned the slave's lesson. Eat your fill today, for starvation is just an annoyed master away. A great fire was set in the center of the circle of men. Foundling tasted the drink, realized it's alcoholic content and drank anyway. Death had come searching for victims. Tonight they had sent two his way. Tomorrow someone might deliver them. Melissa did not even taste it and drank two refills. Someone began playing Flamingo on a guitar, a barefoot dark eyed beauty, dressed simply as Foundling and Melissa were, stepped into the circle of men and began to dance. It soon became apparent the swarthy man who had run the pit fight was the object of her dance. She pranced, sprang, whirled and swooned before him, castanets sounding. When the dance was done, she lay submissively at his feet. He stood and with one muscular gesture swept her up in his arms, carrying her supine form into the surrounding darkness. The sound of clapping following them. The dancers castanets lay were she had ended her dance and the guitar began another tune. Foundling sat amazed as little Melissa stood up and, tossing her leather nooses aside stepped out into the circle and picked up the castanets. The music stopped, she set herself in the start position, and hands clasped over her head. The leader, nodded and it began. Melissa sprang, leaping right over the fire. And as only the lithe young can; whirl, pirouetted, jumped bent al most double and so enthralled the circle of men that the sounds of their partying died away. All watched the tiny preteen dance that of an adult female tempting her chosen to conquer her. Foundling sat, stupefied. The obvious target of Melissa's dance was herself, and she was scarred these tradition bound Romani would not allow female love. When the music died away and Melissa lay supine at Foundlings feet, silenced reigned. The leader reached out and shoved Foundling forward. Indicating with his arms to scoop her up and carry her off. So, feeling the noose swept over her head, she stood, knelt down and scooped Melissa up, and carrying the smaller girl in her arms walked off towards their trailer. The sound of clapping following them. Foundling lay Melissa on the floor of their trailer. Melissa rolled on top, stripping off and doing likewise to her lover. Covering her body in soft kisses and as her hands caressed, probed and massaged. Suddenly the door was thrown open and rough hands dragged Melissa screaming out. The sound of a slap, and her voice stilled. The leader entered the trailer, the translator right behind. "You will fight better if we hold you two lovers separately" The translator told her. She is a virgin, but you will suffice tonight. The translator left, and the leader slipped his wide leather belt out of his pants, raised his arm and struck. Foundling rolled, screamed, pleaded and cried, to no avail. After a dozen strokes he picked the sobbing Foundling up, tying her wrists to the head of the bed. He then stripped off, climbing on her, sat on her chest, squeezing her breath. And holding a knife to Foundlings throat shoved his cock in her mouth. Foundling moved her head back and forth, but soon he just grabbed her hair in a fist and raped her face. Later after drinking most of a bottle he lay on top of Foundling, yanked her legs wide, shoving his maleness into her. After again satisfying his lust, he left. But Foundling saw, the translator waiting for his turn. He entered, belt wrapped around his fist, and Foundlings traumatic rape began all over again. |