*Please be gentle with me, it’s my first time writing. :)*
She waited until the sun was well below the horizon before she crept out of her hiding place in the ruins of her house towards the firelight reflected from the shattered walls of the building nearby. Fear held her back; hunger and thirst drove her forward. She’d been almost four days without food, and one without water. Though she might be dead if she went ahead, she was certainly dead if she stayed where she was.
She crept silently up to the building and peered through a crack in the mostly-intact wall, taking in the soldiers that sat around their fire, eating food – real food! – that threatened to give her away as her stomach cramped at the sight – and the smells, oh the smells! – of thin strips of meat roasting on metal skewers. Vegetables simmered in a makeshift pot that looked as though it started out as an American helmet and kimchi – real kimchi, her stomach cramped again at the smell of it – sat in a jar beside one man.
Jeong-ja had smelled enough. She would take her chances with those men of the Korean People’s Army.
As silently as she could, she crept back to her hiding spot, then stood and loudly walked over to where the men were eating, not making any effort to be silent. Instantly the conversation around the fire stopped, and the sound of rifles being chambered gave her a brief pause before hunger drove her forward. No challenge rang out as she walked, but she knew that weapons were being pointed at the door as she drew near.
She stopped just out of sight of the empty doorway, and called out to them, “Don’t be alarmed. I’m just here to ask for food. May…may I share what you have?”
“It’s just some woman,” a low voice said from inside, followed by another voice giving a low chuckles and hoping that she wasn’t *just* some woman. A third, equally low voice from within told the two of them to be silent, that she might have others with her. She waited.
“Are you alone?” called the third voice from inside. She told them she was, and continued to wait while a heated, low-pitched discussion broke out inside. Some of them wanted to let her in, others thought she was a scout for the American troops, or maybe even there as a decoy. Finally, the voice that had called to her shushed them all, and called out to her again. “You may come in. Before you do, though, strip naked. Leave your clothing outside. You will come in with nothing. You will show us your front and back, lift your breasts to show us what is underneath, then spread your legs and show us what you have between them. If you have nothing, you may stay. If we see anything we don’t like, we will shoot.” That last caused some porcine laughter from the others. “Do you agree?”
“I do,” she said, and stripped off her clothing – the torn and dirty rags that were all that was left of the *hanbok* she was wearing when the North invaded her town. She folded them neatly and placed them on what was left of a stone table to one side of the building. Then she stepped into the firelight.
She was pretty, she knew, even now, under the dirt and the lack of food. There was no need to lift her breasts after so little to eat, and sitting on the dirt before them and spreading her legs for a group of strange men was almost nothing after so many weeks of raw fear and terror. One man – she decided he was in charge – went over to her and worked his finger in her, dirty from months in the field and greasy from the meat roasting on the fire, checking for something she didn’t know what. He gave a slight upturned smile at her lack of reaction from his filthy hand, at her fixation on the meat on the fire. She mentally sighed; it wasn’t like she was any cleaner than *he* was by now, and while that might be a pig knuckle-deep inside of her it was pork on the skewers; for some of that she’d let *any* swine in her trough.
After what felt like forever he pulled his finger out of her and wiped his hand on her bottom. He sat back at his place by the fire, grunted at one of his men and gestured at the meat on the fire. Wordlessly, the soldier handed her one, and she took it with a word of thanks. The first bite was ambrosial; she closed her eyes and chewed on what was probably rat but tasted better than any mutton or pork she’d ever had in memory. She finished the thin skewer almost without realizing it and was handed another, along with a small cup of kimchi to go with it.
Almost she could forget she was sitting naked in the dirt in front of a group of soldiers. Almost.
When she had finished the meagre dinner she placed the empty cup in the dirt beside her and started to her feet. The tanks on her lips died unspoken when she saw the leader shaking his head and gesturing her to sit back down. She did.
“Why are you still here?” he asked her. “Most people fled for Seoul days ago. It’s unusual to see people still in these villages, more unusual still for pretty women such as yourself. do you have family here?” She shook her head. “Ah. Why didn’t you leave?”
“Sir, I waited too long. Then the American troops came and I was scared, I hid, then they left and I was afraid they would shoot if I tried to follow them and then the Northern army came and…”
“Ah,” he said again, and she did not like the smile that failed to reach his eyes. “You sympathize with the Americans, do you?”
“No…comrade soldier,” she said, deliberately not looking at the way his finger stroked the trigger of his rifle. “I believe in the People and the Party.”
“I see. Well, that’s good. That’s very good to hear. The People share all, that is the way of the proletariat, isn’t it? And,” he smiled again, “we have shared our food with you. What can *you* now share with *us* in turn?” Without waiting for an answer, he tossed his rifle at one of the others at the fire. “Take this for me for now. I’m going to take her for some questioning. If she can’t tell me what I want to know, you all can take a turn questioning her afterwards.” Amidst their laughter, he took her by the elbow behind one of the broken brick walls. Dropping her in the dirt, he pulled down his pants and knelt between her legs, forcing her thighs apart. “And now,” he said to her, positioning himself at her entrance, “let’s see what you know.”
Roughly, he forced himself inside of her. She bit her lip at the pain, then forced herself to relax as he moved within her. He was rough but not vicious, thrusting in and out like a machine until he came inside of her and withdrew. Pulling up his pants, he told her to wipe herself up, as the next man didn’t need to be dealing with the results of the previous “interrogation”. As he went to let the next man know it was his turn, she did the best she could, scooping what she could and wiping in in the dirt.
She had just finished cleaning up between her thighs when the next soldier came up. Fortunately, she was still slick with come inside which made it easier when he pushed his way in and held himself, there, nipping at her nipples with his teeth before moving in her, in and out, thrust after thrust and again, coming inside her to join the other man.
The next man was rough, spiteful, making her take him in her mouth first, pulling her head close to his belly and her lips nearly in his hair, forcing himself down her throat and holding himself there, making her choke from the size of him. When he finally let her breathe he lay between her legs and she felt him enter her, deeper and deeper, almost more than she could take. Even then she had to push her waist down into the dirt in order to take all of him, and he thrust hard, like a hammer, and despite the cold and situation she had never felt anyone as big as him before, and despite herself her breath came a little quicker and she felt her self getting wetter – not just from the come of the other men but of her own accord as well – and when he came in her she held him for a moment with her thighs, to keep him inside of her, *all* of him, for just a moment more before he pulled out and left.
The last man came to her while she was wiping away the last man’s come, and he was bigger yet. Not long, but thick, *thick* through the middle, and she turned her face away, afraid. He lay between her legs, put the tip at her entrance and pushed, and for a moment she was certain that he would not fit. But with every movement, he pushed himself a little farther, a little deeper within her, until he was fully inside of her. She felt herself get wet, very wet, partly in self-defence from the giant inside of her but partly from the feeling of *fullness*, a feeling she’d never felt before. More and more he moved, and wetter and wetter she felt herself get, and it felt good, so *good*, that she could almost forget she was lying in the dirt in the wreckage of her village, almost forget she’d just been “interrogated” by several men before him, almost forget the terror and the fear and the hunger in the feeling of him, *all* of him inside of her, and she turned her head away and began to move her hips in time with his, a little faster and a little faster still until she raised her waist and took as much of him as she could, the lips of her vagina banging against the hair around him, and the cry as she came silenced the geckos in the night.
She barely noticed when he came, and when he went still wrapped her legs around his to keep that wonderful fullness inside of her for a little longer, just a little. Just for a few moments, though, and she felt empty when he withdrew amidst the laughter of his comrades.
“You’d better go,” he murmured in her ear, then stood, pulling his pants up around his waist again. He reached into a pouch he’d brought with him, and pulled out a couple of cans. “Here,” he told her, handing them to her, “take these.” American rations. She knew better than to look surprised he had them. Nodding, she held them close under her breasts and melted into the night. No way she was going back for her *hanbok*, she’d find another one somewhere in the ruins of her village. And tomorrow, she’d begin the log trek to Seoul.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qej0ht/on_the_battlefield_mf
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