A Yank in the outhouse

Yes, Mrs Walsh already had her hands on the crank handle. I saw that before the Yank spun me round so the mangle was behind me. Then I felt the back of my skirt being plucked up. Straining my neck around, I saw that Mrs Harrington had lifted up the hem and was feeding it between the rollers as her friend cranked the handle around. The American laughed, let go of me and as more and more of the skirt was drawn up between the rollers and I was pulled backwards, uselessly trying to hold down the hemline as it rose up my legs. I suppose I must have protested, but nobody took any notice of whatever I said, not until I was pinned back against the mangle with most of my skirt hanging out the other side of it. What was left to me was rucked up around my waist, so high up that I knew the bottoms of my old fashioned bicycling briefs with the elasticated leg pieces must be showing. The sneer on Mrs Harrington’s still flushed face was proof enough of that, let alone the Yank’s grin.

“Honey, you sure do have one nice pair of legs, especially for a Sunday School teacher.”

“Let me go, please.”

He picked up one of the towels off the table and tied it around his waist, sat down on the top of the table and reached out his hand to Mrs Harrington. She gave him the gun and he put it down next to himself.

“And you sure haven’t been short changed in the upper works either, Sarah. A nice little double handful there for any guy to play with.”

I felt my face burning and my tongue completely tied. I’d never even heard of any man daring to talk like this to a respectable girl. Mrs Harrington just laughed, picked up the tray and walked off towards another table with clothing thrown on top of it.

“Susan, why don’t you put some more wood on the fire? This is the only place I can get warm in a goddam country that’s never heard of central heating. Don’t worry about our unexpected guest, she’s going noplace soon.”

A couple of his fingers tapped lightly against the pistol and Mrs Walsh – Susan? – walked towards the fire. As she walked past the Yank he caught her right breast in his outstretched hand and pulled her round to his lap. Mrs Walsh grunted, pulled the sheet around her above her hips and pressed herself against him in shameless response, grabbing his hand and holding it between her legs as she kept on making noises like a pig rooting through kitchen scraps. The Yank was watching my face as he put his fingers into Mrs Walsh, apparently far more interested in my response than in that of the woman he was playing with.

“See, I told you she wasn’t going anyplace soon. She’s too interested in watching what I’m doing to you girls to want to leave.”

“I’m not interested in what you’re doing” I said as confidently as I could. “I do want to leave, so you’d better let me go. And you can’t get away with threatening people with guns in this country. This isn’t Chicago.”

“Honey, I would never have guessed that,” he said sarcastically.

Mrs Harrington came back with her sheet neatly wrapped around her again and carrying the tray. On it were three glasses and a very expensive looking gold cigarette case. She took two cigarettes out of it, put them in her mouth and lit both with a lighter built into the case. I’d never seen such a fancy thing before. She passed one of the smokes to the Yank who released Mrs Walsh as casually as he’d grabbed her to take the cigarette from Mrs Harrington’s hand. Susan seemed unhappy about being discarded and knelt down to begin shoving sticks into the fire with unnecessary force. The man and the woman still at the table drank and smoked and stared at me, Reuben with lazy interest, Mrs Harrison with sharp eyed annoyance.

“What are you doing here, Sarah?” she asked.

“I don’t have to answer your questions!” I answered with defiance.

She smiled coldly: “How would you like us to feed you through that mangle the other way around – tits first?”

“I was just delivering a bottle of wine for the Vicar.” I answered quickly, my stomach feeling as if the wind had just been knocked out of it. Mrs Harrington snorted in disbelief, her eyes sharp and bright.

“It’s true – the bottle is in the saddlebag of my bike outside. But when I got here I heard some noise from inside here and I just wondered, well, what was going on. . .”

“So you decided to spy on us and now you’re going to go back to the village with a lot of gossip which everybody in the county will hear about in a day or two – or at least you think that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I won’t tell anybody anything.” I told her, trying to damp down her rising anger.

“No you won’t, not if you know what’s good for you. Reuben is a Major in the American military police and very rich as well, so you’d better not say anything or you’ll be in real trouble.”

“Gals, gals, quieten down will you, I’m getting a head ache,” the Yank rumbled. “This is no problem. There’s twenty pounds in the jeep that I’ll give to Sarah here in return for keeping quiet about our little get together.’

Twenty pounds – it was a fortune, as much as a skilled man could earn in a month. “And seeing as how she’s here and paid for, I guess she may as well join in the fun as well. It sure would be a waste of a good Sunday school teacher otherwise, for Jacob can see there is corn in Egypt.”

I was almost as startled by the quotation from the old testament as I was by his implied threat of what he was going to make me do.

“Now you needn’t look so surprised, honey. We’ve got bibles back home as well and my folks were kinda strict about bringing me up on it. Anyway, I guess we need to make a sinner out of you so there’ll be no temptation for you to go throwing any stones. Now if only I’d have known that I was going to have to lead a pretty young lady like you into temptation afternoon, why I guess I’d have preserved my strength a little instead of sinning straight off with Harriet.” He spread his arms out to encompass all three of us, then reached down and stroked his groin underneath the towel, still looking around and leering. “The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few.”

Next his eyes turned directly towards me: “Never mind, Sarah, ye shall eat of the fat of the land.”

It took me a moment or two to understand what he meant and why the women were laughing at me. Imaging myself sprawled over the top of a man’s naked body with my mouth full of him was as inconceivable as doing it with two other women watching me. Yet there was a kind of poetic justice about it that I knew would appeal to Susan and Harriet. I felt like I did when I fell of my bike – only really having time to wonder how hard the ground was going to hit me when I finally stopped falling.

“How long do you think she was watching us?” Harriet asked.

“Long enough to know exactly what’s going to happen to her now,” Susan snapped.

The other two each seemed to find the idea amusing. Reuben put his arms around the women, each of his hands cupping one of their breasts.

“Well, Sarah, you sure do seem a mite overdressed for the occasion. Maybe we can do something about that,” he drawled. His cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth, an eyelid screwed up against the smoke. I’d never seen a man so self assured. He dropped his hands and slapped both of the women on their bottoms. “Fix her up, gals. I’ve got to make a call on the radio – find out how things are going back at HQ.”

He got off the table, tied the towel around his waist, slipped his feet into a pair of unlaced shoes. “Have her ready for me when I come back.” He went outside, apparently unconcerned by the cold wind blowing outside. The gun was still in his hand, as though he was determined never to be parted from it.

As Susan and Harriet moved towards me I reached round to the handle to try to release myself but my skirt was bunched up in the rollers too tightly for me to be able to turn it from that difficult angle. And anyway, it was two against one, two who would have grabbed my arm before I could have turned the wheel even once. There was no way out.

Harriet Harrington stood and watched me, her arms crossed, the same cold smile on her face; her companion touched her elbow and whispered in her ear. Whatever she said seemed to suit Harriet.

“Well, Miss School Teacher, you might have thought that you’ve had an interesting afternoon so far, but it’s soon going to get a lot more interesting. Now for starters, it must be getting awfully hot in here underneath that sweater you’ve got on.”

Of course it was. In a situation like this I would have been hot and bothered enough anyway, let alone in a hot steamy room with a sweater on. My skin was pricking underneath it and drops of sweat were rolling down my face.

“So why don’t you let us take it off you?”

I shook my head.

“Suit yourself,” Harriet said briskly. “It’s just as easy for me to get Reuben to do it. He’d enjoy that, but you won’t. Especially when he gives you a spanking for being a stubborn little bitch. He’s got a swagger stick that he’s used on me once and I’ve never dared to argue with him since. But you’re going to be stripped off in here, that’s for certain. Your only choice is whether you want to be given a civilized shagging afterwards, or just plain raped. Whatever happens, Susan and I will be holding you down for Reuben if we have to, understand that. We need to make sure you won’t talk and having you thoroughly fucked is our only guarantee of that. So is it going to be done easy or hard? And if it’s to be made easy for you you’d better put your arms up without any further delay.”

I didn’t know what to do. Until Mrs Walsh showed me the long hat pin in her hand, then pressed the point of it through the wool of my sweater, through the fabric of my bra and into my left breast. It made me cry out with pain.

“Better make your mind up, Sarah – quickly.” She wasn’t pretending

Once more in the same day I held my arms up over my head in surrender. Harriet and Susan put their hands underneath the sweater my mother had knitted for me and raised it up and up, over my bra cups and over my shoulders, over my face, my hair, along my arms, and then it was hanging from her hands and I was wearing nothing but my bra above the waist. Susan nudged the left cup with her palm, her face close to mine.

“We’ll have that off you, and then you can do a performance for us to watch.”

I could see the smudged mascara on her eyebrows, smell the tobacco on her breath. It was a different sort of tobacco smell to anything I’d ever smelt before, sweeter. My heart was was bouncing around in my chest like a canary frantic to get out of its cage. Susan asked me questions.

“I bet you’ve never done it before have you? Or did that Charlie Moore manage to get his wicked way with you before he finally got called up for the navy?”

I was surprised she knew about Charlie and me. Everybody else in the village probably knew we’d begun courting but I didn’t think anybody in Mill Cottage would have cared.

“No, we didn’t do anything,” I protested.

Harriet touched me as well, stroking my cheek with the back of her fingers: “In that case I’ll bet twenty to one that Charlie boy is going to get a lovely surprise on his next leave. By then you’ll be grabbing hold of any cock you can get and bouncing up and down on it like a good ‘un. You’re as sexy a girl as I’ve ever seen, Sarah, and your days as a Sunday School teacher are definitively over.”

“No – no,” I protested, in vain. Susan unhooked the back of my bra and both of them took it off me. Both pairs of hands had long unchipped fingernails and soft skin which had never done any work. Harriet stood back and eyed me.

“Well, Sarah, you’re a well developed young lady. If nobody has been getting his fingers around those it’s been a sad waste.”

I tried to cover myself up with my hands, and that just made them laugh at me even more. Harriet said: “OK, let’s take off her English Channels now.”

“My what?”

“Your briefs,” Susan explained. “Your last line of defense.”

“Oh God!”

It only took a second or two, both of them kneeling down on either side of me and plucking the briefs down. “Be careful, please. Don’t break the elastic.” Maybe it was a silly thing to say under the circumstances, but maybe it wasn’t. Elastic was another clothing item which was hard to come by in wartime shops.

Anyway, they were reasonably careful, not wrenching them off me and helping me to step out of them. Harriet stood up, threw them casually across the back of a chair and looked carefully at me again. Susan had picked up a cigarette from somewhere and swallowed a stream of smoke before passing it over to Harriet.

“Another turn of the handle?”

“Oh yes, I think so. Just to set the scene off nicely.”

Susan caught hold of the mangle’s handle and turned it again, pulling me yet closer to the rollers and the bottom of the skirt up higher until it was right up around the top of my legs and I was literally within a hair’s breath of indecent exposure. One futile attempt trying to pull back some of the trapped cloth was enough to prove I was wasting my time. Susan giggled and patted the handle.

“One more turn, Sarah, one more turn of this and you’ll be putting on a turn of your own. A strip show turn with everything on show.”

“What are you doing this for?” I asked. “Why are you doing everything that man wants you too?”

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