The man laughed, saying: Yes, her rolls are well buttered. Then he prepared himself, and I saw that he was the smallest made of the three, though the instrument he displayed was in full readiness for the assault.
He lost no time in preliminaries, but at once laid himself down on me and with his two forefingers separated the lips of the spot. Then he penetrated me without the least difficulty and began to poke me quietly, but with plenty of vigor, so that in a few seconds I was for the third time deluged with hot juices. Again I suffered a sickening sensation of disgust.
The villain now got off me without making any remark, and I thought that the horrible ordeal was over and that the men would release me. But, to my horror, they did not, though I begged them piteously to let me go.
We’ve not done with you, my girl, said Jackson, smiling evilly.
Leaving me tied up on the bed, weeping and shivering with shame and despair, the men now filled their pipes and, sitting down on stools, chatted coolly with each other about the way I had behaved while being poked. While they talked, they gazed at my naked, palpitating body.
When they had smoked their pipes, they came to the bedside again.
Faint and sick with disgust, shame, fear and horror, I wailed pitifully, beseeching them to have mercy on me and not to touch me again, saying that it would kill me. I might have spared my breath. They only laughed and Jackson observed that a woman could take twenty men without being a bit the worse. Again I begged and abjectly prayed them to let me go, but nothing moved the brutes. They had neither pity nor compassion.
However, I need not enter further into the details of my martyrdom; it will suffice to say that all three poked me again, one after the other, and, when the last man had withdrawn his member from my quivering body, the receptacle was filled to overflowing by the six copious inundations which it had received.
I was by this time in a half-fainting state; there was a cold sweat on my forehead, my flesh was bruised by the rough way I had been handled and my whole body was jerking convulsively, while unutterable disgust and loathing overwhelmed me.
The knaves now unfastened my wrists and ankles, which had red marks around them where the ropes had chafed the skin. Then Jackson threw a blanket over my naked body, telling me that I might go to sleep if I could, as they had got as much out of me as they wanted. Drawing the blanket over my head, I huddled myself up, crying miserably. The men took no further notice of me, but sat smoking and talking in low tones for about half an hour. Then, leaving the lamp burning, they threw themselves, still wearing their clothes, upon the other beds. In a short time, I knew by their snoring that they were fast asleep.
My mouth was dreadfully parched and my spot was throbbing painfully. I wanted a drink, so, slipping quietly off the bed, I got a tin cup and, going to the bucket of water, quenched my thirst. Then I bathed the red and swollen lips of the spot and washed from my body all outward traces of the horrible pollution. This accomplished, I dressed myself in my tumbled garments and lay down again upon the bed, hoping to forget in sleep the horrors through which I had passed.
But, though I was physically and mentally worn out, sleep would not come to me. I shall never forget the misery of the long night I spent in that shanty, tossing and turning on the dirty bed. I was feverish at one moment and chilly the next But all the time I felt sick with disgust. Moreover, I was haunted by a dreadful fear that the wretches might not let me go in the morning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I don’t think that I ever once lost consciousness during the weary hours, and I thought that the morning would never come. But at last I saw the welcome daylight showing through the clinks in the shutter. Presently the men woke and, getting off the beds, stood yawning and stretching for a moment or two. Then, looking at me, they laughed, making remarks about my pale cheeks and red eyes, while I lay in dire suspense, fearing that one or other of the ruffians would take it into his head to poke me again. But to my intense relief no one touched me.
The window was opened and a fire was lighted. Some bacon was fried and a pot of coffee was made. Then the men sat down to breakfast, ordering me to sit at the other side of the table and join them in their meal. With downcast eyes and flaming cheeks, I seated myself opposite the three brutes who had outraged me so shamefully, and, since I was very faint, I tried to eat a bit of bread, but it stuck in my throat. However I managed to drink a pannikin of the milk-less coffee, which, bad as it was, refreshed me a little.
When the meal was over and the men had lighted their pipes, I raised my eyes and, addressing Jackson, reminded him of his promise to let me go. Oh, do please let me go, I pleaded earnestly, bursting into tears and stretching my hands towards him appealingly. You have nearly killed me. Surely you won’t be so cruel as to keep me.
He looked at me for a short time and my heart seemed to stand still. At last he said: You are a pretty girl, and, though you are a bad poke, you are better than nothing. We’d like to keep you for further doings, but you’d be in our way, so we’ll let you go. I’ll put you through the woods to the road, and then you can either go back to Woodlands or run to Richmond. Both are the same distance away, about sixteen miles. You can come along at once if you like.
A dreadful weight was lifted from my heart, and I rose from my seat eagerly. Oh, I am quite ready to start, I said.
He laughed. All right, he said, but first you must shake hands with us, bid us goodbye and give us each a nice kiss on the lips.
So I had to kiss each of the ruffians in turn, bidding him goodbye. As I did so, each man put his hands up my clothes and felt the spot.
Jackson then left the shanty, and I followed him. He evidently wished to confuse me as to the exact position of the place, so he led me by devious paths through the woods for at least a couple of miles before bringing me out onto the road. After pointing to the direction in which Richmond lay and telling me that I could not miss my way, he disappeared in the bushes.
There was not a person in sight, and I sat down on a log at the side of the road, uncertain whether to go back to Woodlands or on to Richmond. But I did not quite see how I was to get to either place, as I could not possibly have walked the distance. Under ordinary circumstances I was a good walker and would have thought very little of a walk of sixteen miles, but at that moment I was weak and faint, sore and stiff, and every movement of my legs caused me pain. Not knowing what to do, I began to cry in sheer helplessness, thinking what a dreadfully unfortunate woman I was in every way.
But a bit of luck came to me. I had been sitting by the roadside for about ten minutes when I saw in the distance a farm wagon coming along the road. When it had drawn close to me, I saw that it was driven by a respectable-looking middle-aged man. Rising from my seat on the log, I tearfully asked him if he would kindly give me a lift towards Richmond.
He pulled up his horse at once and said that he would. Then, giving me his hand, he helped me into the wagon and made me as comfortable as he could, looking rather curiously at me but asking no questions. I gave him a short account of how I had been stopped on my journey and robbed by bushwhackers, but I was silent as to the other things which had been done to me.
The stranger was full of sympathy for me and anger against the bushwhackers in general, who, he said ought all to be lynched. Then he added: I reckoned that there was suthin’ wrong when I seen a lady like you a sittin’ by the roadside cryin’. Dern this war! There’s no law or order now in the whole state of Virginny. I wish I was out of it and back in Connecticut, whar I come from.