Misguided Obsessions

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  • Format: Paperback
  • Copyright: 2012-05-21
  • Publisher: Textstream
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Dazed, Layla barely felt herself jerked and hauled from behind the counter. With all her might she thrashed and kicked at the two who restrained her with little effect. Fury raced from a void of panic. Hissing lips appeared. She spat at the hideous apparition. Jacobs wiped the spittle from his face. He then reared and slapped her with the back of his hand. Light-headed, ears ringing, jaw aching, Layla gazed through tears as he wiped blood from his knuckles. He grabbed her chin and twisted her lips to a pucker. It's a damn shame you belles don't cooperate. Guess we'll have to teach you your place. Yeah! Wrapped 'round our legs, one piped in her ear; his breath hot and sour. If not for a sliver of light beneath the shaded window, Layla would have rolled her eyes into darkness. Her mother told her about men having urges, strange fascinations. Kyle more than once warned her about 'Bummers'. Damn him! His kisses, advances were easily assuaged with Johnny, Rodie, and Jed to chaperone. Was this what her mother meant about a man's basic need? Faint! Damn you, faint! And they'll leave you alone. But she couldn't. Her pride had the upper hand. She clawed, flailed, and hissed, her legs ever sturdy at holding her upright, her eyes clear enough to see several layers of scum on the sergeant's teeth. How 'bout tits, Sarge? I want to see tits. Jacobs released her chin, rent her bodice twice and the worn buttons gave in his hand. Layla squealed, attempting to hide the revealing chemise with her outstretched arms. With an extra burst of strength, she twisted toward the man on her right and clamped her teeth into him. Ouch! God Almighty, she bites! He let go and banged her head with his elbow. Dizzy, Layla swiped his face with her nails then lashed at the other. He caught her wrist, but with a swift kick to the groin, she sent him in a heap, moaning like a castrated bull. The incessant ringing from the shotgun and the blow to her head nearly concealed Sergeant Jacob's loathsome laughter. Nearly! She whirled; bore her nails into his cheek just before the private she bit ensnared her waist. He lifted her easily and squeezed. The furniture and bottles in the shop twirled. She kicked at his shins. He squeezed tighter. Jacob's face swam in front as her mind began to float, she quite aware yet no longer able to tell her body what to do. Hold the bitch still! Jacobs yelled, wiping the blood from his cheek where she scratched him. Sure's one hell-cat, Sarge. She took a chunk of me. Blood trickled down the private's arm. Thomlinson! Sergeant Jacobs bellowed. Sir, I think she's broke something. The private bent at the counter looking inside his pants. I'll break something if you don't move your ass. Help Baker, damnit! I want to show this bitch some northern hospitality. Thomlinson clumsily aided Baker and forced Layla's body to the floor. Layla heaved the chance to scream but Baker's grimy hand stopped her. Tasting blood and dirt mixed with her own bile, she writhed for air, unable to swallow. Both soldiers sat on her outstretched arms, their grips like rope, burning her wrists. They bound her legs with their own. Pieces of glass jabbed her arms and shoulders, her back sticky where sharp pinpricks pierced her skin. A fierce pain shot up her neck, nearly split her head open, the floor, like ice, melted beneath her as her mind smoldered over an inner fight to remain conscious. She swiveled her head to the side to fix her gaze on one thing, anything. She was barely able to see passed the man perched on her arm. Both men pawed, laughed, ripped at her clothes until only her worn petticoat remained about her legs then a dead silence flooded the room--a long, drawn-out pause--as they gawked at her. Her heart beat fast, so fast she could barely get enough air to sustain her. Jacobs loomed above, unsnapped his suspenders, and fumbled hastily with his trousers. Layla's eyes widened. She couldn't raise a peep. She had never seen a man up close, only Rodie and Johnny when they were younger . . . and babies she helped deliver. This Jacobs maximized the fear she kept denying, he built like a horse. Hey, Sarge. You promised I could have the next one, 'member? Baker whined, stripping the remnants of the petticoat from beneath her legs. Last time mine wasn't moving after you finished with her. Best be glad I don't kill this bitch altogether, Jacobs remarked, and reluctantly changed places with the younger man. A comely bitch though. Jacobs grabbed her chin again and smiled at his handiwork. Layla winced. Tears welled in her eyes, making it difficult to register his rounded, bloodshot orbs. She wished she hadn't swallowed. She wanted to be ill all over him, all over all of them. Suppose she could use a little meat, eh Sarge? Thomlinson groped her exposed breast. His gritty fingers twisted her nipple, pinched the tight skin against her rib cage then his callused palm rubbed her sunken belly. Yeah, mine! Jacobs tilted her head to and fro. Don't think she could handle 'ole Charlie' though. He shoved his imposing manhood back inside his trousers. Baker squirmed out of his suspenders, yanked down his pants and long johns. Layla managed to turn her head toward a glint between two beige chunks of alum. Her betrothal ring! She must have lost it during the struggle. Riveted on the shiny gem, she concentrated on hope, however distant and elusive it had become. They spread her legs. She held her breath and the room along with the ring faded.

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