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Vietcong Defilers (Anonymous)

Vietcong Defilers by Anonymous

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Nineteen year old blonde cheerleader Sandra Harte, is looking for escape from her dull home town in Kansas, and signs up as a WAC; finding herself serving in Vietnam.

Sandra is still a virgin when the Viet Cong invade a party, making off with guests.

Life is downhill all the way after that, with the Cong putting Sandra through every perversion, forcing her to perform with captured American officers brought to reluctant readiness with painful electric shocks to their genitals.

The captive Sandra witnesses the degradation of prisoners. Her mind and body are shattered.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 8 / 2018

No. words: 36700

Style: Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle



Paralysed by terror, Sandra Harte whimpered plaintively as her clothes were ripped off and she was stripped to her panties and bra.
ďAmerican bitch," one of her captors said sibilantly, in stilted English as she was forced to her knees before the evil-faced little brown man who stood in the crude jungle shelter.
Rain water that trickled from her short-cropped blonde hair failed to blind Sandra to the spectacle of the Viet Cong soldier who pushed down the bottoms of his black pyjama-like uniform. Nausea shuddered through Sandra as she stared at the obscene genitals the Cong guerrilla held in his small brown hand.
Light from the flickering, smokeless fire washed over the man's ugly cock and balls as he peeled back the skin to expose the obscene end of his penis. Sound of the rain was muffled. Cruel hands rubbed over the girl's pale, milky skin and fingers pinched at her taut buttocks and groped for the heaving cones of her breasts.
As naive as the 20-year-old WAC corporal was, she had no doubts what the impassive Oriental wanted - demanded - of her. Giggles and unintelligible jabberings of the four black uniformed figures hunkered in a semicircle just beyond the circle of firelight filled her with terror and loathing.
"Suckee, suckee," the guerrilla leader commanded harshly in parody of the Saigon street girls. Seizing a handful of her golden hair and yanking it brutally, the soldier waggled his dark brown penis before the American girl's appalled eyes.
"Oh God, noooooo," Sandra whimpered, gagging at the prospect of having his filthy, foreign cock in her mouth. He yanked her closer and she could smell the odour of his maleness. Her skin crawled and her nearly naked body shuddered as another soldier's hands played over her smooth, golden skin from behind, squeezing her buttocks through the drenched fabric of her pan- ties.
Sandra shook her head, clearing them of tears, her gaze pleading silently, eloquently, trying to communicate her innocence and begging for mercy.
"Get it," the leader leered, lightly brushing the head of his penis against her pursed lips and the tip of her nose. "Wan' die?"
Sandra shuddered, a coldness like steel lancing through her slender body. She shook her head slowly, shivering, feeling a hand search under the elastic top of her panties to maul her butt cheeks. Coarse fingers travelled down the tensed crack of her butt and dabbled at the virgin pouch of her pussy.
"Ooooooooohhh, Jesus-God," Sandra wailed, heart hammering with fear and dread and sickening humiliation. She was unaware the Cong chieftain no longer held his penis until his hand appeared with a blue steel pistol splotched with blood-like rust.
"Yankee bitch, suckee - or die," he said ruthlessly and placed the muzzle between Sandra's eyes, cold and terrorising at the bridge of her petite nose. He released her hair and again lifted his obscene flesh toward her face.
She could only feel the finger from the man behind her probing at the thick lips of her pussy, separating them, gouging along her tender pink furrow. A nerve-shattering sensation danced through her loins and her belly as the soldier behind her hooked the end of his finger inside her cunt. She tried to lower her bottom to the damp ground, but his hooked finger sent sparks of pain through her tight canal and she held herself firm, immobile, aware her posture gave the ghastly tormentor access to her sacred zone.
There was a metallic click and Sandra froze, knowing she was only seconds from having her head exploded by a bullet, her brains blown out - and dying. Even the finger gouging just inside her pussy was still. Slowly, Sandra lowered her gaze and she stared with fear and loathing at the Viet Cong soldier's cock.
"I-I-noooo-please?" she sobbed. Then she closed her eyes, feeling the head of the swollen prick brushed like velvet against her lips. The end of the pistol barrel was taken from her head and she thought her captor was relenting and she sighed with gratitude, when a harsh explosion of a shot fired into the air deafened her. And the muzzle was planted against her left temple again.
She drew a deep agonised breath, her eyes blinking several times. The end of his cock was warm against her trembling lips. With a sigh, she opened her mouth fractions of an inch at a time and felt the warm, slick head of cock against her tongue. Sandra whimpered as the brutal Viet Cong soldier crammed his limber prick against her teeth. Jerkily, her mouth continued to open and her face was full of rubbery prick. The man forcing abuse on her chuckled and chattered something in Vietnamese and his companions giggled and crept forward, two of them pushing leering faces close to hers to watch the young American girl sucking the cock of their leader.
Sandra was keenly aware of several sensations. Her thin, wet panties were being dragged off over the roundness of her buttocks and pushed down to her knees. The finger was nudging around in her pussy and another was rubbing her body. Then the hand pushed the cups of her bra upward and her conical breasts were in the open, being mauled and squeezed, her tits shooting hot sensations through her body.
And the prick she had in her mouth was beginning to swell, filling Sandra's face until her jaws were stretched to the aching point. A dark hand swept down over her face and thumb and finger pinched her nostrils closed.
Sandra whimpered and gasped on the thickening, stiffening prick in her mouth, sobbing for breath. The effort made her suck and swallow on the man's organ, the head sliding past the curvature of her throat as she swallowed. She had no intention of doing anything beyond letting her captor force her to take his cock into her mouth; but having her nose pinched shut forced her to struggle to breathe, thus suck on the dark bulb and the hard shaft.
She tried to push at the hand on her titties, but a nipple was tweaked so brutally she put her hand back on the damp ground. Her neck ached from being forced in an arc to accommodate the cock in her mouth.
Her sense of humiliation increased as the man at her head began to do to her what Lieutenant Colonel Carter Gordon had been trying to do between her legs for the past six months. The Cong rattled off something in his guttural language as his hips began moving and he fucked her in the mouth.
Colonel Gordon. Sandra thought in a fresh wave of nausea of the night's unholy nightmare. He had been trying night after night to seduce her and she had coyly deterred him. She shuddered with weakness and sickness as the hard cock was shoved in and out of her mouth, down her quavering throat. Now Colonel Gordon was dead. And he had been so close that night of getting what he wanted, getting to her.
For days, Sandra knew she was weakening to the pressures of the tall, lean, crew-cut American Special Forces officer. As they danced that evening in Gordon's quarters on the northern outskirts of Saigon, she could feel the hard bulge of his prick against her belly and could smell the faint, musky male aroma of him.
His arms were looped around her and his hands played over her lithe back, brushing lightly at the saucy flare of her hips, down over the firmness of her butt cheeks. She had danced with him. not resisting, her arms hanging. When they turned though, occasionally one of her hands would brush against the prominent bulge in the crotch of his trousers, against the hard, ready balls loaded and yearning to spill his semen through his prick and into her virgin pussy.
But they had come. Out of the opaque Vietnam night and the rain. One moment she was in the arms of Lieutenant Colonel Gordon, the tips of her breasts hard and tingling against his chest, his hands cupping the globes of her butt. The next moment, the Viet Cong were in the apartment, coming silent and deadly.
Sandra was slammed into an over-stuffed chair when the colonel was banged beside the head with a rifle stock. The blow sent him reeling and crashing to the floor. He attempted to lunge for a .45 automatic in its scabbard on the table, but he was kicked brutally in the guts and sent tumbling away. Sandra had stared in disbelief as she watched one of the black-clad invaders straddle him, kick him squarely in the crotch, in the balls. The officer retched, on the point of vomiting. Then two of the small, brown men held his head and the man who had kicked him in the groin deftly popped out his eyes with the point of a bayonet.
Sandra would have screamed, but she was slapped hard and a dirty hand was clapped over her mouth. She stared, unblinking, terror- stricken, as the officer's clothing was slashed and torn from his long, hard frame.
She knew he was barely conscious. His moans of pain were pitiful and he was totally helpless. His muscles were slack and his body was like jelly as he was flopped onto his belly. Two of the Cong forced his legs up and she stared at his hairy rear end, at the dangle of his shrunken genitals.
To her horror, she was forced to watch as one after the other of the Vietnamese mounted him and spent their lewd cocks in the rectum of the whimpering senior officer. When they had finished, the man who had gouged out Colonel Gordon's eyes squatted, grabbed his genitals in one small hand and slashed them off with the bayonet.
Sandra wondered why, abstractly, the American commander hadn't passed out. Perhaps the shock kept him conscious. She would have screamed then, but was too stunned by the suddenness of the event. The man who bad stood over her stepped across the room, put a hand on the colonel's rump, thrust the barrel of his pistol into the American's asshole and pulled the trigger.
There was a muffled explosion. The colonel's legs came unhinged as his body stiffened, went limp in sudden death. Her senses must have blacked out. The next thing Sandra knew, she was being forced to run as the invaders trotted in single file away from Saigon, into the rain and darkness and the jungle.
Sandra's scream was muffled on the cock fucking her mouth. The pain of her anus being penetrated brought back again the sight of seeing the colonel shot in the bowels. For a moment she was fearful she was about to suffer the same, but it was a finger violating her butt hole.
In spite of herself, she relaxed slightly, grateful she wasn't about to die. But, why should they kill her? Wasn't she doing what they wanted? Wasn't she letting the leader of the band take his pleasure by shoving his ugly, filthy cock in and out of her mouth? And, not because she wanted to, but wasn't she adding to his pleasure by sucking his prick! Even her tongue was working, slithering along the underside of his hard meat as the thick knob on the end sloughed along the softness of her palate and cascaded into her throat.
Her jaws ached and worked and the Vietnamese groaned and his pace quickened as he steadily fucked his cock in and out of her mouth. Her lips pushed in as he crammed it into her face, pooched out as he withdrew, then were pushed back in again as he fucked in deep.
The pain had given way to a numb burning in her asshole as the man at her behind steadily plied his finger in and out of her butt. She sobbed and gulped, grateful the man fucking her in the face released her nostrils so she could get a deep breath.
She swallowed hard on the plunging cock and was aware of an elusive sense of security, frail as it was, when the man violating her mouth with his prick patted her head, rubbed his hands over her bare shoulders, almost affectionately, she thought.
When the fuck-strokes quickened in her mouth, Sandra stiffened with new apprehension. He was ramming the head of his prick deeper and more determinedly into her gullet. A wave of faintness flooded through Sandra and she fought against gagging, instinctively knowing what was about to happen.
Then it came with astonishing swiftness. One minute she was being fucked fast and deep in the mouth. The next, all of the Cong's cock was forced down her throat and was shooting horrid, sticky cum into her stomach while the one behind her was finger fucking her asshole as fast as he could make his finger and hand fly.
Mercifully, Sandra was able to gulp down his jizz without strangling. She sighed deeply, feeling the sac of gonads with a sprinkling of crisp hair against her quivering chin. Oooohhh, she should have stayed with her secretarial job with the insurance company in Wichita, Kansas, instead of letting herself be recruited to the WACs and sent overseas.
The finger up her ass was imbedded deep and she bowed her back, trying to draw her rectum off it. But her tormentor kept it right up her butt, in deep and firm. It made her insides feel so full. Ooooh, I want to die, she thought as the ebb of jizz pouring into her mouth and down her throat began. But did she? Why had she relented and sucked cock when death was only a split second away before she started?
Sandra waggled her curved bottom, weaved her butt from aide to side in protest of the finger up her tiny burning, itching asshole. She was unaware when it was withdrawn, but her rear end continued writhing and squirming and members of the band giggled lewdly.
With a grunt, the Cong leader pulled his shrivelling prick from her mouth, slapped her hard, sent her toppling obscenely onto her back before the dying fire and the cruelly sparkling eyes of her captors who laughed and pointed at her bared titties and exposed pussy, the mound adorned with a crown of curly golden hair.
She couldn't look at them as she struggled to get her breasts back into the cups of the bra and pull up her panties. Then they were on the trail again.

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