Giselle suffered hundreds of rapes during the next few months. As many as thirty of the little shit eaters would take advantage of her every day. The muscles of her anus became slack from the constant abuse; she learned to control her bowels from a place much further inside than normal. Semen swallowing lost its horror and her cunt hardly responded to the ministrations of fingers, cocks or bottles. Her periods ceased. But, still that little voice kept her sane and Giselle just knew she would survive.
Eventually, the Viet Cong broke camp and departed, melting into the jungle as if they had never been there. Giselle was left with the poor peasants who had suffered almost as much as she during their occupation. These people had been the recipients of sever treatment. Their recent captors were little better than the officers of the Khmer-rouge who killed for no more reason than a casual glance.
Giselle began making plans for the long trek back to friendly territory. It took time to accumulate the bear necessities for an extended hike through hostile jungle. At last, her meagre possessions were gathered and Giselle was ready to go. Fate had plans for her though.
The head villager sold her. He sold her with out telling her, to a Turk called Sake, who travelled unmolested through the territories of hostile and friendly camps, taking with him, his travelling circus of freaks and horrors of the war. Burned and disfigured children, amputees and curios formed his retinue, all of whom had to perform or be left to starve. Both sides looked forward to his visits and welcomed him into their midst. Giselle was worth two goats.
The first two weeks hadn’t been bad. Giselle was left to fend for the less able bodied. Feed and cloth them, look after their needs and generally recuperate from her ordeals. She found that regular meals had started to fill her emaciated body out with flesh. Her pallor returned and she became quite fit again. Sake, the Turk Circus boss, had noticed her return to health and set his mind to appraising her worth and usefulness. His limited English was only a little barrier when he explained that she would have to earn her keep. He was singularly unimpressed when she told him about the needs of the others. His dismissive reply was that if they died or whatever, he could just replace them, wasn’t as if there was any shortage of human carnage around. She became the troupes whore. When they stopped at a village, a tent would be erected slightly separate from the main one. Giselle was to entertain a never-ending stream of visitors, both male and female. Her reward was a continued existence.
Screwing seemed to be the local popular pastime. Apart from running away or fighting the enemy, the little fuckers screwed the day away it seemed to her. Giselle became just another cunt and the men soon lost the added interest that she was a westerner. They argued about the price, eventually, they stopped coming to the tent. Sake decided that Giselle had to do something else to earn her passage. He hit upon a brilliant idea. From some place, he had acquired a military message dog. He suggested that Giselle should fuck the dog as an entertainment for his patrons. She received a harsh beating at her refusal. The beating Giselle could take, but the denial of food was a much more serious affair. She held out for a week, stealing titbits from some of the others, but she soon started to become weak.
Eventually, it was either fuck the dog or die. That was her choice and she could take or leave the offer. Her hatred for the Turk grew to know no bounds. She had to do it.
Magnanimously, Sake allowed her a few days to recover from her enforced starvation. He remarked that she should get to know the dog while she had some time. Giselle had owned a dog before she joined up, but this brute was a completely different proposition. He was what is popularly known as a Heinz fifty-seven. Made up of many breeds and interbreeds. His ancestry would never have made the, whose who, of canine sires. Although not a large dog, he had a squat strength that belied his size coupled with a meanness and belligerent personality. It took a few days for Giselle to get anywhere near him and a few more to convince the dog that she wasn’t there to take his food or belt him. Eventually, she gained his trust.
At the next village, she and Brute, her name for him, were to be the star turns. The audience turned up desperate for some relief from the war and filled the tent in anticipation. Their jeered and catcalled at the usual places; Screaming out insults to the various turns. All too soon, it was Giselle and Brute’s spot in the centre. The crowd brayed and sneered as she entered the arena. Missiles of rice and other foods rained down on them until Sake announced their turn with a brief description of what they were about to witness.
Neither Giselle nor Brute knew how to start. She stripped and called the dog to her, trying to get him to lick her nakedness. He seemed bemused and wanted to escape the spotlight.
Eventually, after much coaxing, he gave her a perfunctory lick. The crowd gasped in unison and Brute stepped away, intimidated by the audience. It was like teasing them. Brute would step up to her and give her a sniff or a lick, then move away, but each time spending a little more time as he became less worried about the people. Giselle lay on a table draped with a cloth and got the dog to give her a thorough tongue-lashing. The audience went wild and cheered.
That was it really; Giselle’s first attempt at bestiality was only to be Brute; lashing her cunt with his tongue. Neither of them got any pleasure from the experience, but the spectators loved every second of the spectacle. Their fame preceded them and subsequent stops at villages brought out just about everyone, including the kids and mothers. Sake was pleased at his increased revenue, but, as with many people, he got greedy and wanted more. Secretly, Giselle thought it gave him a thrill to watch. He never seemed to get involved with women or show any interest in them.
Sake was becoming a rich man on the earnings of Giselle and Brute’s shows. But, as so often is the case, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more and wouldn’t be satisfied until he got it. I want the dog to fuck you, he announced one day between shows. I want him to fuck you, in front of the audience. Imagine their reaction, it will be great. Giselle thought about her answer before she replied. She had long since given up about caring what people saw of her. Her abuse at the hands of these people had driven any feelings of decorum from her. It had got to the stage almost, that she thought of herself as, just so much meat, and worth nothing and only good for entertainment, either as a spectacle or a fuck hole for anyone who wanted her. Her primary concern was to survive, first and foremost, then to escape back to life, her ultimate goal.
Her answer, when it came, was the first step to freedom, but neither of them saw it that way. I will do it, but on one condition. Sake wasn’t used to his subjects exacting conditions of performance, but went along with it to see what she would say. I want a share of the profits. He was stunned. Then, he laughed aloud and held on to his guts as if they were about to drop out. You want what? A share; Are you off your head?