A Weekend Away

'Okay. Charlie. Go with her and you might as well go yourself at the same time.' Charlie got up and got the spade out of the back of the car and beckoning to Diane, led her out of sight among the dunes for them to perform their toilet. They were gone for nearly half an hour and when they did return, Harry blasted into Charlie.

'What took you so long?' he shouted at him.

'I can't shit to order,' he retorted. 'I had to wait a bit before it came.'

'Fucking wimp,' he muttered under his breath as he turned back to watch Tracey getting things ready for breakfast.

'I need to go too,' she said, facing up to Harry.

'Okay, okay. You!' he pointed at Diane. 'Take over and see that you don't burn anything. Charlie watch her while little miss here and me go for our little walk.' He took the spade from Charlie's hand and beckoned Tracey to follow him. He only went round one dune and stopped and got the spade ready.

'Not here!' Tracey exclaimed. 'It's too close to the camp. The next dune should be all right,' she said. Harry just grunted and then moved off to tramp through the sand till they'd rounded the next one.

'You'll crap here or nowhere,' he growled and dug a small hole in the sand for her, and then moved a few feet away and dug another for himself. 'Got the paper?' She held up the roll which he took and run a few sheets through his fingers before tearing it off and handing it to her. She took the proffered paper and went and squatted over her hole as he put down the spade and assumed the same position as her over his.

Tracey had no intention of using her hole and as soon as Harry grunted when he was in position over his, she quickly rose up and seized the spade and swung it with all her might for it to connect with the side of his head. He had just begun his motion and the force and ferocity of the blow made him give out a loud grunt and then expelled his anal gases out in one explosion that also evacuated his bowels as he fell forward. Tracey didn't even wait for him to hit the sand before she was swinging the spade again to catch him square on the back of his head.

He fell face down into the sand, his backside still in the air and his thighs covered in his excreta and then slowly toppled over onto his side. Tracey quickly scooped out some sand next to his head and then rolled him over until his face was below the surface of the sand around him. Another few spadefuls of sand and his head was covered and only then did she drop the spade to sit on his neck and shoulders. She sat there for over five minutes, feeling the odd tremor go though his body as he died from asphyxiation.

Though she guessed that he had indeed died, she sat on him for another five minutes before getting up off him. Then with great care, she covered his body with top sand, being careful not to bring up the darker coloured sand from below the surface. With him completely covered, she moved over to where there was a large bush growing out of the side of a dune and dug a shallow trench about four feet running out from this bush. She then covered the spade with sand and sat down in this hole with her back to the bush and began to cover her legs and lower torso with sand until she was forced to put her head and upper part up into the bush and then cover what might be visible of her body with yet more sand. When satisfied that she was hidden from a casual glance, lay back and prayed that this would work.

Diane was cooking breakfast and was getting worried when neither of them had returned after twenty minutes. She dragged out the meal preparation as Charlie began to get agitated too, pacing up and down, constantly looking in the direction where Harry and Tracey had gone for their toilet.

'Where the hell are they?' he kept muttering to himself as he paced and finally stopped in front of Diane. 'Where are they?' he shouted her.

'Maybe they're having a bit on the side,' she smirked at him which didn't go down too well.

'Why isn't breakfast ready?' he almost screamed at her.

'You can't rush a meal such as breakfast,' she replied, wiping a splash of grease off her naked breast. 'Why don't you go and see what they're doing. It might excite you.'

'Don't get too funny with me bitch,' he fumed as he resumed his pacing about their small patch of sand. Then he came to a decision and darted into the tent and came out with a pair of handcuffs. He went straight to Diane and clipped one end to her wrist and then dragged her away from the stove to the front of the car where he fixed the other end.

'You just wait here till I get back from looking for them,' he snarled.

'What about breakfast? It'll be ruined,' she wailed.

'Then you can cook another,' he said as he left and disappeared behind a dune and she could him calling out for Harry.

'What's going on?'

'What's up?' the tied up men asked in turn.

'I don't know,' Diane cried, 'but I think she's gone and done it.'

'Done what?' they both asked in unison.

'I don't know,' Diane replied, starting to sob, 'but I hope she's alright whatever it is.' So the three of them attached by various means to the car listened to Charlie calling out, his voice getting fainter as he moved further away.

Tracey heard him calling the moment he left the camp and she went rigid and held her breath and hoped that her camouflage was successful as she waited for him to come into sight. She began to doubt that the bush that she could see through was enough to hide her and her heart beat increased alarmingly as Charlie's voice got closer. Then he came into sight, his head turning all ways as he scanned the area and then to her relief, he moved on, still calling out Harry's name. Her heart that had been hammering away in her chest now began to slow down and she felt herself beginning to relax, when suddenly, Charlie was there back in the small area of sand between the dunes. He wasn't calling anymore, but moving silently about and even walked within a few feet of her hiding place and thankfully, didn't step on her covered legs. Then he was gone and she heaved a sigh of relief, but she still wasn't safe as yet, so she stayed where she was and hoped for a sign that she could move again.

Diane had been chained to the car for over half an hour before Charlie appeared again at the camp site.

'Can't find the buggers anywhere,' he shouted as he unlocked Diane. 'Get on and see to the breakfast,' he said as he pushed her towards the stove.

'Well this lot's ruined,' she cried while on her knees and looked at the burnt remains in the pan.

'Then do some more,' he shouted at her. Diane got up and went to the back of the car and open the top half and dropped the tailgate to find something else to cook. Then she saw the freezer box and knew exactly what she had to do. She quickly pulled on the gloves that were by the side and opened the box and let the gas move so that she could see inside properly. She moved the frozen food about and pushed lumps of dry ice around until she found a piece roughly about the size of a cricket ball. She hefted this lump of ice in her hand and then called out to Charlie to come over. When he was about ten feet away, she turned and said, 'Catch,' as she threw this block of ice towards him. It was an underarm lob and it sailed slowly in the air and gave him time to instinctively cup his hands to catch whatever it was she had thrown to him. It wasn't until it landed in the palms of his hand and his fingers closed over it did he realise he'd been had.

He gave out a terrible scream as the dry ice immediately stuck to his skin and began to burn not only the skin, but the flesh beneath. It was a long howling scream as he vainly tried to pry his hands apart, shaking his arms and doing a dance as he tried to free himself from this burning pain that was searing up his arms. Through the pain and watering of his eyes he could see Diane smiling which further enraged him. Still screaming, he launched himself at her, trying to free his hands and feeling the skin tear in his efforts.

Diane ducked under his swinging arms and to his surprise and her own amazement of doing what she was doing, rammed another piece of dry ice into his open screaming mouth.

Now he went ballistic. His body arched and his scream became a gurgle as his brain seemed to be on fire more than his mouth and tongue which were stuck together. What made it worse was that instead of taking in oxygen to his lungs as he inhaled, he was taking in the carbon dioxide gas.

As he flailed around, Diane could see blood beginning to pour from his hands as he tore the very flesh from the bones in the effort to free himself from the terrible pain he was suffering. She didn't want him to catch her with that ice still stuck to his hands, so she danced round him and with a towel she had taken from the car, managed to get it over his head. Then, being behind him, twisted it as best she could and then hung on for dear life for his swinging movements actually lifted her off her feet for her to swing wildly behind him.

At the sound of the first scream, Tracey jumped violently, her heart starting up its trip hammer again. She knew instantly that it wasn't Diane, but was it Mark or Timothy for it had been a man's scream. She heaved herself out of the bush, ignoring the odd scratch to the face she received and pulled herself out from the sand and recovered the spade before making a dash for the camp. The screaming was still going on as she passed the first dune and then it became a gurgle and she hoped that she wasn't too late to help and stumbled into the camp to find Charlie acting like a whirling dervish with Diane hanging onto a towel that was draped over his head. One hand had torn itself free from the ice and this mess of bloody flesh was now clawing at the towel that Diane was hanging onto.

Tracey moved in closer, raising the spade until he moved round in his gyrations and was just coming round to face her when she swung it so that the edge of it shattered his kneecap. It was more of a muffled groan he gave as his leg gave way and he collapsed on the sand, Diane landing heavily on his back. The hand that still had some ice left in it was underneath him now and burning into his stomach as Tracey leapt onto his head while Diane wheezed for breath as she lay on his lower half.

Charlie convulsed for a few minutes longer under their combined weight until he finally gave a shudder and became still, but they stayed there for several more minutes before even giving any thought to moving themselves. Then Diane began to shudder and shake and started to cry.

'I've killed him,' she wailed and Tracey was quick to get off Charlie and put her arms round Diane and lift her off his body.

'No you didn't. I did,' she said as she hugged the crying girl to her chest, herself now getting the shakes as the full import struck her that she had actually killed someone herself. Diane in turn hugged Tracey and they clung to each as they both sobbed in relief as well as suffering the pangs of conscience that they really were no better than their rapists.

'Fuck them bastards, what about us,' croaked Mark. 'For fuck's sake stop crying and get us free.'

This brought the girls back down to earth and they both turned to their men and began crying again as they crawled over to try and untie their hands. Timothy seemed unaware that Diane was trying to free him because he began to struggle, muttering and moaning that he didn't want it again, not again. This put Diane into an even more of a dither as she fumbled with the knots and it was Tracey who pushed her aside and cut him free with a knife. He then slipped sideways and Diane cradled his head in her lap and crooned some long forgotten song to him as Tracey went and cut Mark free.

Though his bonds had been cut, Mark found he was unable to move having been in that position for nearly thirty hours.

'Help me Tracey,' he begged. 'I can't seem to move.' She pulled him over so that he was lying flat on his stomach and he cried out aloud as his limbs straightened out and he felt pain as some of his circulation began to be allowed to move about his body more freely. The tears that flowed down his face were from frustration that he could move his arms but not his legs and he made pitiful attempts to rise, but then began to drag himself towards the tent and out of the sunshine. Tracey helped him as best she could and by the time they were halfway there he was able to get up onto his knees and this was how he crawled into the blessed coolness before stretching himself out again.

Tracey knelt next to him and began massaging his legs, trying to ease the cramped muscles to allow the blood to flow properly. Diane was having a problem with Timothy as he didn't seem to want to move. He just lay there with his head in her lap and kept mumbling to himself and she held him and cried because she just didn't know what else to do.

It was nearly thirty minutes before Mark was able to move properly and he rolled over onto his back and told Tracey to go out and help Diane and Timothy. She rose up and left the tent but went to the car first and got a bottle of water which she gave to Mark who hungrily took the bottle from her and had almost finished the bottle before she got back out of the tent.

She went quickly over to the car again and got Timothy sitting up so that Diane could rise, and between them, half carried and half dragged Timothy to the tent and got him inside. Tracey then began to massage his legs in the same way, telling Diane to get some more water for both of them. He was more of a worst shape than all of them put together and when Diane returned with the water, was sent back out again to find the first aid kit.

Using some of their drinking water, Tracey washed Timothy's backside and dried it with a corner of a blanket before putting some cream on his torn anus before wadding some lint there before rolling him over onto his back. That helped because he whispered out his thanks before drinking half the bottle of water he was given without letting the bottle leave his lips.

With both of the men flat on their backs, Tracey washed them down to cool their skins after telling Diane to get the stove going to cook them all some food. She was happy with this arrangement, rather to be the cook than the nurse under the circumstances.

Though she got the stove going, she couldn't concentrate for her eyes kept flicking back to the body of Charlie still lying out there in the sand. She was thankful that his face was still wrapped in the towel because she couldn't have stood it if his eyes had been open, looking at her and accusing her of his torture. The fact that he had raped her more than once was now at the back of her mind because of what she had now done to him. She tried to picture the agony he must have gone through with that dry ice stuck to his hands and then to have some of it his mouth. She shuddered and knew that she would rather have the rape again than go through what he must have suffered. Seeing his body there was so unsettling that she dropped food more than once into the sand and had to discard it before going over to the car and taking one of the blankets that still lay there by the wheels and covered his body so that it was out of her sight. Now it was just a blanket on the sand and so she could get her mind round what she had to do in respect of getting a meal together for the others.

She had thought of the lobster, but noted that the boys hadn't eaten anything but a few spoonfuls of scrambled egg in the past, what, nearly thirty odd hours, and it might be too rich for their stomachs. She discarded the idea of baked beans, thinking of Timothy's backsides and the trouble they could cause him, so settled for veal cutlets and salad, cramming two bottles of wine into the ice bucket for them to drink with their meal. Awkward as it was, she managed, and took in the plates of salad first and was relieved to see that both of the men were now sitting up and received the plates gratefully while she went back and brought in the cutlets. Then it was the wine bucket and glasses and saw that they were eating properly, rather gingerly though, before she even thought about eating herself. They had their wine and she found her veal was cold by then but didn't mind that small discomfort.

Tracey had insisted that they only ate small amounts at a time and to give each mouthful a good chew before swallowing to allow their digestive system to come up to scratch. It wasn't a happy meal under the circumstances but they slowly managed to eat all the prepared food and even had another two bottles of wine, so they were all more or less well on the way to being intoxicated by the end of it.

Tracey went out and made a pot of coffee and Mark told her of where a bottle of brandy was hidden in the car. The thing that screamed out at them when they were well into the brandy, was that none of them had made any passing remark to the ordeal they had just gone through over the past two days. It wasn't until they were half drunk but still some way from the maudlin stage they finally began to speak about it.

Mark who had suffered the least in the abuse was the one who opened it up.

'Now what has happened here as happened. There's nothing we can do to turn the clock back. Three of us have been raped and we've committed murder. So now we've got to talk about what we are going to do about it.' Which brought silence into the tent as each, apart from Mark, relived the ordeal that they had suffered.

'I'm glad I killed him!' Tracey burst out to shatter the quietness of the evening that was beginning to descend upon them outside the tent. 'He raped me and deserved what he got. I'll claim self defence in court. You will do the same Diane,' she said defiantly as if to brook no argument. 'Mark and Timothy will testify to that.'

'I'm not going to court,' Timothy mumbled.

'What?' exclaimed Tracey.

'I'm not going to court! Didn't you hear me the first time?' he cried. 'I won't do it!'

'Why not?' Mark asked.

'Why do you think?' he almost screamed. 'Do you think I'm going to stand up and say to the whole world that I had those animals fuck me up the arse? You must be fucking mad,' tears were coming from his eyes and running down over his cheeks.

'There goes that cocksucker they will say. Then I'll be asked if I didn't invite it! You probably hate me for seeing another man fuck me when I should have stood up and fought them.'

'But you couldn't have fought them as we couldn't,' Tracey said, tears in her eyes for the anguish he was going through. Diane was now crying too as he carried on.

'I'm glad you killed those bastards as they now can't tell the world how they used me.' He dropped his head onto his arms that were now crossed over on his drawn up knees as he sobbed. Mark put his arm around his shoulders and tried to pull Timothy towards him but he was shaken off. 'I suppose you'd like to have me later,' he said, his voice muffled but what he was saying was quite clearly understood.

'Timothy!' he cried out in a shocked voice as he slapped him round the face. 'Here we are trying to comfort you and all you can come up with is this. I'm ashamed of you. Get that thought straight out of your mind. I've no thoughts of fucking you than those two cadavers out there in the sand. You make me feel ashamed of you,' he finished.

'Timothy,' the shaking voice of Diane spoke up as she reached out a hand to touch him. 'I still love you. The question is do you still love me after what they did to me?' It was a plaintive cry and yet it was one that had to be spoken and the import of it sunk in for his body shook and he began to cry. Diane quickly moved to his side and let his head rest on her shoulder as wept.

'So the question now is what do we do?' Tracey asked. 'Do we go to the police and report what happened to us and what Diane and I have done, or what?'