Some still clung to the idea that people working together could re-build some semblance of what came before. They tried to find the like-minded and scrape together a living out of the ashes, to see if the world had forgiven them and might again offer up what could not be scavenged from its wreckage.

For many others, the only living was that which you could take and keep, no matter who you had to take it from, no matter who you had to keep from taking it back. For these, a community that tried to plan for tomorrow made for a handy source of supplies, its people for slaves and entertainment.

Every age had such men. They were called pirates. Bandits.

Raiders.

Yut lived for violence. The expression of strength on the weak, the crushing of resistance, was his pleasure. And as leader of the Scars, a pack of some of the meanest raiders of the wastelands, his opportunities for pleasure were many.

But as leader, he well understood that violence alone was not enough for his men.

They had spent several days performing a covert reconnaissance on the compound. The seven women had turned a former trailer park into a functional hamlet, complete with a flourishing vegetable patch and an ample supply of scavenged goods, including a small number of guns.

But only one of the women seemed to have much experience in using them.

The others referred to her as "Sarge". The short-haired blond lived up to the name, barking orders that the women seemed to accept with little hesitation. Her toned limbs and predilection for dressing in green, khaki, and olive accentuated her military demeanor.

The scouts also noted that Sarge had an amazing rack and a sweet round ass. Pressed for more relevant details, they noted that she was maybe twenty-five years old; she might well have served in the military, but her career couldn't have been a long one.

Yet she was den-mother to the six younger women.

"She gives orders, they obey," the ruthless Thai warlord stated. "If she submits, they will obey."

The women had managed to bring together a ring of campers and trailers at the center of the park as a sort of protective barricade. But there were only seven women, which limited how much time any of them could stand guard, and their routines were foolishly predictable.

That night, their guards stood in watch atop the roof of one of the campers. The skinny red-haired nineteen-year-old, Kelly, was near the end of her watch shift in the yawning midnight hour; Dori, the tiny Indian woman, was an hour into hers. Both women were tired, and neither was as aware as they could have been. When Dori brought her flashlight around and saw the sack-masked raiders who had joined them on their perch, it was already too late.

It didn't help that the scarcity of ammunition had prevented the watchers from significant training. Kelly hesitated, and by the time she raised the shotgun, the raider had already gotten his hands on it and quickly jerked the barrel towards the sky. When the gun went off, she screamed, releasing the weapon to cover her ringing ears.

Dori didn't even have a weapon other than the long-handled steel flashlight. It was snatched from her hands, and the raider facing her smashed the heavy cylinder against the side of her skull, smashing the lens and extinguishing the light with the impact. She crumpled with a whimper as her vision exploded in purple stars.

Ten seconds after the gunshot, Sarge emerged from her trailer with the hunting rifle in hand, testament to her vigilance and training. But the reconnaissance had not failed to note where the blonde made her bed for the night, nor that she would certainly be the first to emerge. Half a dozen Scars, led by Yut, had already scaled the roof and descended the other side by the time she made her appearance.

In the shadows cast by the faint moonlight, her tight tank-top and panties clung to her sculpted body. Yut set his eye on the back of her knee, the soft and vulnerable skin between her shapely calf and her toned thigh. It took a second for the blonde's sleep-addled mind to contemplate the possibility of ambush; as she turned, the warlord of the Scars lashed out with the side of his boot into the back of that knee.

She tumbled forward with a loud cry, the rifle beneath her, and then the rest of Yut's crew poured over her like ants on a discarded sweet. She fought to keep the weapon, kicking out at the half-seen men, but to no avail; a foot on her chest, and the rifle was pried from her grasp, and then more feet, kicking her ribs, her hips, her thighs- until it was all she could do to curl in a ball and cover her face.

A minute later, Mara, a tall brunette in a nightgown, came out of the trailer across the way with a revolver raised. But by then, Yut had Sarge on her feet, a knife at her throat. The women could barely see each other across the trailer park's square, still fought to comprehend the nightmare that was occurring even as they were still shaking off dreams.

"Drop the weapon," Yut sneered.

"Don't do it, Mara!" Sarge cried. "That gun hits the ground, you give up the last power we have left!"

"Skinner?" Yut addressed the name to the blackness.

"Here."

The encircled yard suddenly filled with light as Skinner, standing atop the camper, ignited a road flare. The squinting women making their way out of their homes could now take the scene in more clearly. Not only Sarge, her nose dripping blood, pinned around the neck and paralyzed by the edge of Yut's combat knife at her throat, but Dori, her dazed eyes half-open, lifted to her knees by her long black hair, and Kelly, also kneeling, hands behind her head as Skinner rested the girl's own shotgun at the base of her skull. And the rest of the Scars, surrounding them on the roofs: ten? Twenty? Fifty?

"We don't need them all," Yut snapped, his voice cold and flat. "If the bitch doesn't drop the gun in three, paint the yard with the carrot-top's brains. One."

"Mara, don't listen, you're all we've got...!"

"Then three more, and I'll do Sarge. When you've done the girl, aim for the Mara cunt. We'll kill them together. Two!"

"Mara...!"

Mara shrieked, dropping the gun and raising her hands as she began to wail.

"Sarge, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't do it, I'm sorry...!"

Yut smirked. "Good. Now we can begin your new lives..."

Augusta- known to her friends as "Gus"- and Penny had already come out of their sleeping quarters by the time the camp surrendered. After a quick search, the Scars rooted out Tanya; the eighteen-year-old Chinese girl had been hiding under the fold-down bed in her camper. She screamed, kicked, and wailed as they dragged her out, and the five other women kneeling on the grass watched her useless display with a mixture of pity and disdain.

The raiders found a halogen shop-light and its generator in one of the trailers; bringing it into the clearing, they started it up. Yut wanted them to see what was going to happen to Sarge, and see it vividly.

A playground had once stood in the center of the trailer court. Now the iron frame of a swing set, its legs buried deep in the hard-packed earth, was all that remained. It was to this frame that Yut had the Scars bind Sarge by her wrists, her arms taut over her head, her proud breasts thrust out and her nipples poking through the thin cotton of her tank-top.

The raiders clustered around the helpless, kneeling women in their midst, eager to watch the show and sensing that the beauties at their feet would soon be subject to their rising lust. Yet even still they waited on the permission of Yut, the fearsome warlord whose leadership had brought them this bounty.

Standing to one side, Yut appraised the shivering woman at the center of the improvised stage, sheathing his knife and unfurling a long, black bullwhip from his belt. His eyes found Skinner among the Scars, and brought him forward with a gesture.

"You like the look of the woman?"

The warlord's trusted second nodded vigorously, licking his lips. Old scars covered his muscular arms; the thug liked to brag that for every one he had earned, he had shed ten gallons of blood.

"I think you Americans used to refer to a bitch like that as a 'hard ass'. Or was it 'tight ass'?"

Skinner laughed. "Probably a bit of both."

"Hard or tight, you're going to whip that ass." He handed the braided black leather to the thug, who shivered with pleasure as he felt the weight of the weapon rest in his hands. "Yes..." Skinner laughed. "Fuck, yes!"

Sarge glared at Yut as he made his way towards her. The wiry, sun-bronzed Thai's face was covered in a labyrinth of jagged black tattoos, ink that shadowed his eyes and turned his visage into a mask without mercy.

And what sort of man would tattoo his own face so, she thought, her heart pounding. If such was the pain he would inflict upon himself...!

Drawing close, he thrust his hands down her hips, under the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down her thighs. The blonde spat at him, disgusted with her own fear, rigid with helpless anger at the position of unconditional surrender in which she and her companions had found themselves.

Yut looked at the muff of yellow hair fringing the woman's mons with a clinical detachment as he wiped her spit from his face. The shadowed eyes rose to meet Sarge's piercing blue ones.

"Enjoy your petty show of defiance," he snapped. "Remember, in this moment, that this was as close as you would ever come to being my equal... And you are standing on display, half-naked, tied to a swing."

He turned slowly, walking back a few paces, his thumbs hooked in his hip pockets- a stroll of self-assurance, even casual arrogance. As he did so, Skinner was taking up position behind her, rolling his shoulder and snaking the whip across the dirt as he contemplated his attack. The cleft of the blonde's ass, the rounded swell of her buttocks, the shapely curve of her hips...! When Yut turned back, he was almost vibrating with eagerness.

Yut's voice was cold. "Whip the bitch."

Skinner paused. "How many lashes?"

"I will tell you when to stop. It will not be soon."

That was all the slack Skinner needed. His muscles bunched as he pulled his arm back, then sent the leather flying towards the bound blonde's backside.

CRACK!

The sound was like a pistol shot. Sarge let out an involuntary cry, her hips thrusting toward the watching raiders as her backside rippled with the force of the blow. A responding sound emerged from the onlookers- a whimper of horror and sympathy from the women, a murmur of tension and sadistic pleasure from the men.

The moment stretched out as the sound of the lash echoed around the ring of trailers. Skinner watched the angry pink weal he had lain across Sarge's tantalizing backside begin to bloom. Then his arm arced back again.

The blonde tucked down her head between her raised shoulders as the next blow fell, determined not to please the savage raiders by performing for them. The pain exploded between her clenched teeth, burst from her lips in a guttural exhalation.

Her head remained down for the third blow, and the fourth, and the fifth. By the sixth, her neck was taut, cords rising hard beneath the fair, smooth skin.

By the tenth, her head was tilting back, her moist lips peeling back from her gritted teeth, and none of the onlookers could fail to see her grimace- at least, those that weren't entranced by the buckling of the flesh of her backside.

When the whip snapped against her buttocks for the fifteenth time, a strangled, "Ah-!" tumbled from between her parted lips, and another cry with each lash thereafter. Again her body began to buckle forward at the hips with each impact, lewdly thrusting her hips forward and back as the bandits watched appreciatively.

At the twentieth, one of the raised pink welts across her flesh, crossed by another blow, split open and began to bleed.

And still Yut watched impassively as Sarge's sweat-drenched body jerked under the lash.

By the twenty-fifth, tears were sliding down her cheeks, and the raiders jeered and called out, encouraging Skinner to hit her harder.

For five more lashes, Skinner rose to that encouragement, and the raiders cheered as the blonde's taut body jerked invitingly toward them with the force of his powerful blows. "Stop." Yut's flat voice cut through the raucous clamor. A groan went up; the Scars seemed perfectly ready to watch Skinner flog Sarge to death, but it wasn't enough of an object lesson for the women who trembled and wept in their midst. With a moment's hesitation, Skinner allowed the black leather to fall at rest at his side.

The warlord again approached the bound woman, a serpentine smile spreading across his face as he took in her tear-streaked face, the staggered breathing that swelled her bountiful breasts beneath the clinging, damp fabric of her tank top.

"You are falling closer to your proper place, soldier-woman. You are beginning to grasp that we shall hurt you when and how we will. Your underlings will learn that this is their lot, to submit or be forced. And now, I shall beat you."

He seized her tank top at collar and midriff, ripping away the garment at the latter as the watching raiders shouted their approval. The blond woman's taut abdomen was laid bare up her rib cage and to the bottoms of her breasts, sheened with sweat, a graceful curve descending down her pelvis.

He pushed his knuckles against her stomach, right at her navel, feeling the muscles beneath shudder and harden. He allowed her to prepare for what was coming, even as her breathing and pulse quickened.

Drawing back one tightly corded arm, he slammed his fist against her belly.

"Nuuhhhuh-!" The pained grunt burst from between Sarge's lips.

Sarge's tightened muscles absorbed the blow, but not without a considerable anguish that was clear from her grimace-wracked face and the force with which her abdomen and hips jerked backward.

Yut's smile grew wider. He had trained hard in muay thai, the signature martial art of his homeland, and his blows were singularly devastating. It was an art against which many martial artists in other disciplines refused to compete, citing the brutality of its forms.

Taking a practiced, focusing breath, he smashed his fist against the woman's stomach a second time, and then a third, each punch producing a cringe-inducing smack against Sarge's abdomen and a strangled cry from the woman.

"Good conditioning," He laughed, legs scissoring in a boxer's dance. "You make a fine sandbag."

His fists smacked the taut flesh, one-two, one-two.

"But a woman's belly is made for babies. It is not its natural state to be hard."

One-two! One-two!

The women watched in horror as he pummeled Sarge's stomach, his targetting unerring and merciless, punch after punch smashing against her abdominal wall as the skin turned pink and purple.

After long minutes of punishment, Yut drew his arm back for a hard uppercut to Sarge's besieged belly. Instead of the smack from the muscular deflection of earlier punches, there was a hollow, drum-like thud as his fist plowed into her flesh.

"Huuhhh-!" Bile spilled from Sarge's mouth as she leaned forward, her hips thrown backward by the savage force of the blow, her belly violently contracting.

Yut leaned into her, taking her chin in one hand.

"You're going to have to tighten up your entrails, bitch. Your abdominal wall seems to have had all it can take."

He reinforced the point with another brutal punch, his fist plunging deep into her bare stomach.

"Huh-ahhh---!"

He glanced past the suffering blonde. "Skinner!"

"Yes!"

"Rape this bitch in the ass."

"Fuck, yeah!"

Eagerly, the Scar lieutenant approached the swing, pulling open the fly of his jeans and fisting his already rock-hard erection.

"No lube, no spit," Yut directed. "I want you to hurt the squealing whore as badly as you can."

Sarge wailed as Skinner's hands clamped down on her hips, jerking them back, peeling apart her whip-striped buttocks and planting the massive head of his cock against the struggling woman's tightly clenched anus.

"Ah, she's tight-!"

"Good. Force it!"

Skinner's hips shook as he pressed against the woman's rigid body. Sarge's face was turned upward as though looking to the heavens for rescue, her eyes tightly closed, teeth bared.

The tableau was abruptly shattered as the head of Skinner's cock breached the straining ring, and Sarge serenaded the skies with an ear-splitting scream.

"Yes!" Urged Yut. "Take her to the hilt! Pound the wounds on her ass! Pound them!"

The watching Scars bayed like dogs as Skinner forced himself deeper and deeper into the screaming woman, at last succeeding in penetrating her fully and slamming his hips against her well-beaten rump. The clearing was filled with the sound of flesh beating against flesh, punctuated by Sarge's cries and the rowdy encouragement of the raiders.

"Plow the whore's guts! Make her bleed!"

Sarge's backside buckled magnificently with every punishing thrust of the man behind her. Her scream cut into a pained gurgle when Yut again drove his fist into her belly.

"Clench up your guts, bitch!"

Another punch to the midriff threw her head forward, saliva spraying from her parted lips.

"Clench them, or I will rupture you inside!"

And still another punch drove through her bruised diaphragm.

"Squeeze your rapist's cock so he can tear you apart!"

Skinner's fingers went white on Sarge's hips, digging into her flesh as he began to sodomize her even more violently to stab through her desperately gripping rectum. The blonde's face began to redden, her tear-filled eyes half-shut and starting to roll back in her head as the devastating combination of rape and blunt trauma churned her guts. And still Yut continued the savage beating, his hard fists pulverizing her now-yielding belly as his lieutenant used her without mercy.

"Stop it!" Screamed Kelly, rising to her feet. "Stop it, you're going to kill her!"

The slender redhead was silhouetted where she stood among the audience, standing in the flannel shirt and jean shorts in which she had stood her watch, her wavy hair tumbling about her shoulders as she pleaded.

Yut turned, quickly covering the five strides between him and the girl. Without warning, he backhanded her across the face, sending her spinning to he ground.

Kelly raised her arm to protect herself as the fearsome warlord leaned over her where she had fallen, grabbing the collar of her long-sleeved flannel shirt.

"Do you want to take her place?" He roared in her face, shaking her. "You want to save her so much, shall we bind you to the swing? Are you going to give up your ass?!"

"Please...!" The girl whimpered.

"Do you want me to beat you instead? Yes or no! Speak up!"

Kelly sobbed, and Yut shook he again, half-lifting her by the collar. "Yes or no?!"

"N-n-no, please, no...!"

"Weak, mouthy little chit-" Yut snarled. He looked away from the girl to the men watching in fascinated glee. "You, you, you, and you-" His finger darted between watching raiders- "Strip this bitch, hold her down, push her heels back to her head, and fuck the shit out of her. I want her womb so badly bruised that she can't walk when you're done."

The raiders, intoxicated on the brutal show and fevered with need to quench their desire, sprang upon the redhead and pulled her down, tearing apart her shirt and shredding the denim of her jeans in their eagerness to get at her body. The redhead wailed as they tore apart her bra, rent the elastic of her underwear, slammed her slender frame hard upon the ground and forced her legs apart.

There was a scuffle, a jostling among the four, to be the first man between her thighs. When one won out over the others, the rest settled for shoving back upon her long, coltish legs, groping her small, pert tits, pinning her arms as the victor set about lining up his anatomy with the squirming, screaming girl's narrow pink slit.

When he found his purchase, he slammed down on Kelly with all his weight, driving home into her up-thrust pelvis as she shrieked in pain, her hair tossing like flame as she shook her head in denial of her defilement.

"Hammer her cervix with your cock!" Yut ordered. "Punish the bitch! Show her the price of her impudence!"

The girl's slender hips rose and fell sharply, raised by the grips of the men holding her legs only to shudder downward as her rapist slammed his body down into hers. Her screams faded to whimpers and grunts as the concussive, devastating ravishment continued, driving the breath from her battered body.

"Don't let up until you've all had your fill," the warlord snapped.

As the brutal rape continued in the audience's midst, Yut stood erect and traded gazes with the pale, trembling women.

"Do any of you want me to stop beating your leader?"

Above the continued rape of Sarge and Kelly, the silence was broken only by the Tanya's blubbering and Augusta's whispered attempts to comfort and quiet her.

"You!" He pointed to Mara, the tall brunette who had been pointing a gun at him only minutes earlier. "Do you want me to stop?"

Mara's face twisted in misery and guilt. She shook her head.

"Then tell me! Say, 'please, Yut, continue beating Sarge.'"

"...Please, don't make me..." The woman whispered.

Yut started toward her, eyes aflame.

"Please, Yut!" She shrieked, falling backwards onto her hands. "...Continue-!"

He paused, towering above her. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

"...Continue beating Sarge."

Yut snorted. "Say, 'Sarge is a cum-dumpster. Punch her belly until it is a worthy receptacle for Skinner's semen.'"

Mara whimpered. "...S-S-Sarge is a cum-dumpster..."

"Louder!"

"Sarge is a cum-dumpster..."

"Yell it!"

Mara squeaked in terror. "Sarge is a cum-dumpster! Punch her belly until it is a worthy receptacle for Skinner's... semen!"

The Scars roared enthusiastically. Yut spun, turning his back on the cowering brunette and slowly walking back to where Skinner continued to ream the straining ass of the bound, whimpering blonde.

Raising one hand, he stroked his fingers up Sarge's chest and throat, clasping her chin in his hand as she bucked with the force of Skinner's thrusts. Leaning in, he licked the woman's exposed neck, turning her head to whisper in her ear.

"You can't save them..." He crooned.

A shiver cut through her pain-wracked body. With a sadistic smile, Yut slid his hand back down over her bouncing, barely-covered breasts, her sweat-sheened rib cage, to rest again on the bruised flesh of her belly as his hand balled into a fist.

"Be worthy of your destruction," Yut spat, speaking more loudly so the women could hear him. "Fight the cock that rapes you! Struggle to keep your asshole closed so he can rip you open! Let your friends watch your rapist exult in your pain!"

Her bruised abdomen was a shadow drawn in between her rib-cage and pelvis, flaring and twisting with every ruinous plunge between her buttocks. The heated flesh trembled in anticipation of the blow that it could not withstand.

Then, the hollow drum-beat as Yut's fist rammed into her belly.

"Cuh-huuhhhht!"

Sarge's exhausted exclamation was half-retch, half groan.

Again and again Yut struck the bound woman, driving back Sarge's hips to meet Skinner's thrusts, basking in the pleasure of making the once-hard flesh yield to his strength.

"Don't stop-" Skinner snarled, his hips beating a rising staccato rhythm against the blonde's buckling flanks. "My cock is splitting the bitch's tight little ass apart, don't... fucking... stop...!"

His hands left her hips to find her breasts under the torn remnant of her top, pressing and squeezing her generous tits, using their softness as an anchor to pull his rutting thrusts inside her. Pinching her nipples, twisting them, pulling them, in a delirious rage of desire to eke out every bit of agony and humiliation he could from the resilient soldier-woman's body.

Behind him, Yut could hear the high, shuddering moan as one of the men climbed off of Kelly; the whimper of despair as another took his place and drove home into the slender girl's sex. Leaning into Sarge, he drove his fist into her just above her pelvis, sending the unrelenting pain spiking through her ovaries and uterus.

"Break, you bitch-!" Skinner screamed. "Break- you- fucking- bitch!"

The words were punctuated with devastating thrusts. With gut punches, as if both men were trying to drill through her and meet at her spine. With blows, as the hands on her breasts came away just long enough to plant ferocious, open-handed slaps directly into her agony-stiffened nipples, rippling the bouncing flesh and echoing across the hot air of the trailer park.

And the last, with a jet of cum, burning through Sarge's bleeding rectum.

With that, Sarge slumped in her bonds, her head lolling forward, her face still contorted in a rictus of pain.

Her unconsciousness did not faze Skinner, who continued his last, piledriver-like thrusts into the woman's rump until the last dregs of semen were drained from his balls. Yut left him to it, turning to the onlookers with a smile that filled the Scars with anticipation and the women with despair.

His gaze went briefly to the clot of men intent on ruining the redheaded teenager, then back to the women.

"I trust that all of you understand the new pack order," he announced, "And will attend to your assigned duties with the utmost obedience and submission."

Not a woman met his eyes.

The women were dished out to the entirety of the raiders as a buffet of wanton pleasure.

Mara, according to Yut, was mouthy; she would use her mouth to pleasure the men. Penny, who had the largest breasts, was quickly forced to display them, ordered to use them to bring to climax any man who wanted her.

Dori's small size made her easy to manhandle into awkward positions; those who did not mind close proximity to their brethren were tasked to double and triple-team the woman.

Tanya's earlier tantrums and crying caused Yut to decide to bend her over a steel drum for discipline, pulling down her pants and encouraging the men to punish her. Many did - with hands, belts, wooden switches, and whatever other implements came to hand to thrash the young girl's backside. Others took a more sexual interpretation of the term.

Kelly would continue to be assaulted vaginally; Augusta would accept any man who wanted to take her through the back door.

And Sarge?

Skinner was given the perverse task of judging those who wanted a chance at Sarge. They had to prove they were "man enough" for the blonde, anatomically equipped with the length and girth to exacerbate her internal injuries.

Those unselfconscious enough to provide such proof were instructed that she was to remain bound in the center of the park. Other than that, they could do anything to the statuesque blonde that they wanted.

"Push 'em together tighter, you slut! You want me to go get the whip?"

At the man's knees, Penny pleaded desperately, her bust wrapped tightly around his erect cock. Her bare torso was coated with dozens of loads of drying semen, her plump breasts pink from pinches and slaps, her rosy aureolae decorated with cigarette burns.

The latest man to demand a blowjob from Mara sat upon the lawn chair where she pleasured him, an open bottle of moonshine at his hip, baying with drunken laughter at the barbarity on display all around him. Struggling to swallow another disgusting load of jizzum, Mara reflected with horror that she and Penny had gotten the easier end of things.

Tanya's backside was a purple so dark as to approach black. The Chinese girl no longer made a sound, whether touched, struck, or penetrated. No one had bothered to see if she was conscious, or even alive.

Though it was clearer when Kelly was conscious, her eyes had gone blank, staring into the distance as her mouth hung half-open, lips trembling as they raped her. And when her eyes closed, someone ran back to re-fill a bucket with water to pour on her face. Each dowsing temporarily provoked a start, a renewed bout of crying, but then she would sink back into her catatonia.

Dori was all too aware of her situation. A constant pleading rose from the small Indian woman - not another, no, she couldn't stay like that, couldn't bend that way, not that hard, not there. Please, no. Not again. And then someone would push his anatomy between her lips and for long minutes there would be choking, gagging, gasping as her lower body continued to be pulled and pushed, as men continued to eagerly plunder her cunt and ass.

From where Mara knelt, trying to convincingly look on the withering penis she had just fellated with ardor, trying to escape punishment, she couldn't see Augusta. Perhaps it was just as well.

But she could see Sarge.

Her hair hung in damp loops, clinging to her skin, from the gallons of water that had been used to revive her from multiple bouts of unconsciousness. Blood clotted around her nostrils and the edges of her bruised lips, and one eye was black. A black "S", surrounded by angry purple tissue, had been branded on her right breast. Her midriff was purple and red, swollen from beating and bloated by the multiple loads of semen that had been forced into her guts. Her buttocks were torn and bleeding, and further welts had been inflicted on her lower back and well down her thighs and the backs of her knees. Trickles of blood and semen ran down the insides of her legs.

Her latest assailant grunted as he added his cum to the damp weight buried in her asshole. Pulling up his pants and taking up the baseball bat that was his weapon of choice, the raider walked around to the silently weeping woman's front, licking his lips as he contemplated her abused torso.

Then his eyes fell upon where Mara knelt, the heavy wad of semen still plummeting down her gullet.

"Huh!" He sneered, eyes still on Mara's, jerking a thumb at Sarge. "'Cum dumpster'."

Then he drew the bat back in both hands and rammed it into Sarge's stomach.

Sarge's body jackknifed backwards. A sickening farting sound erupted from her. A russet burst spewed from her mouth, and an angry fist of bloody pink tissue issued from between her buttocks, dilating grotesquely as a flood of blood-tainted semen poured forth.

Her body swung back to rest, jerking and shuddering violently. Her chest heaved but could not fill, her belly a stricken, concave hollow. A flood of emotions could be read on her face: anguish, humiliation, despair.

Regret.

Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and the shaking stopped.

The raider smiled at Mara and turned away.

The semen boiled up Mara's throat. She managed to force it down, but not the choking sobs that followed.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered. "Sarge, I'm so sorry...!"

She had said the words that brought on the killing blow. She had dropped the gun that had been their last choice at the crossroads that brought all of them here. Even if she had shot Sarge dead at that moment, her fate would have been a better one. It was all her fault.

The raider who had force-fed Mara her last meal snarled in protest as she grabbed the bottle from his drunken grasp. The base shattered against the leg of the lawnchair, becoming nothing more than a glass handle and a mass of jagged shards.

With the fevered strength of a penitent, Mara plunged the shards into her own throat.

Dawn saw the once-flourishing community in ruins.

Sarge's body still hung from its bonds, ashen and stiffening, sprayed with cum and urine. Mara's lay where it had fallen in a pool of blood as tacky as molasses.

When someone thought to look for Gus, her body was found behind one of the trailers. After many, many assaults on her rectum, her assailants had decided her accommodation had become too easy. Fisting of the poor woman's anus had followed, and shortly afterward, penetration with Dori's over-sized security flashlight. Her perforated intestines had led to bleeding out, and she had simply been discarded.

As the Scars had their fill of the treats available to them - many sampling as many as three or four of the women available - Yut set them to more practical matters, gathering up the supplies that could be looted, raiding the vegetable garden. When everything of value was taken from a trailer or RV, its most flammable contents - often bedding and clothing- were arrayed about its space, and then put to the torch.

Tanya survived the night, her shallow pain tolerance saving her life. Though she had been badly beaten and frequently raped, her impassivity ultimately made her a less than appealing target for lust as the night had worn on.

Though Dori might have longed for death, she, too saw the sunrise, weeping at the degradation she and the others had suffered, feeling every ache and bruise and knowing all too well that her suffering was not over.

Penny had perhaps suffered the least, at least physically. Her magnificent bust had borne the brunt of her assaults, and though she hurt, she was able to make rounds of the camp and size up the state of her friends, to try to render aid where she could. And then she, too, would weep.

Kelly lived to see morning, but the Scars had obeyed their leader's instructions all too well; simply trying to walk sent such intense agony through her pelvis and stomach that she would collapse, no matter how the raiders jostled and beat her. Because of this, only she among the living would be left behind, only later to discover the pregnancy that would end her life in the coming winter. Her battered body had suffered injuries that left her unable to bring the raider bastard to bear.

Tanya, Dori, and Penny would endure the Scars' pleasure for many nights to come as the raider band rove onward. Perhaps they would be sold to others when their novelty waned; perhaps their nightly abuse would finally re-unite them with their murdered friends. Only one thing was a certainty: their attempt to cultivate a patch of earth in the depths of hell had failed, and from hell, there was no escape.