Chapter 1

Justine Tremaine woke up extremely sore, hurting and aching in all three holes as she staggered to her feet inside the tent next to her Blazer. She had been gang-raped for so long that she passed out, cum oozing from her pussy and ass, as well as staining her face. She threw up what she could have sworn was several loads of cum as well from when Baker and his young punks used her mouth like another pussy. She had bruises on her face, a black eye, and a torn asshole as well. She limped for several minutes as she smelled the horrible stench of her own piss, which she rushed to washed off in the nearby creek. It was biting cold this time of year, but she preferred icy knives of the water to the stomach-churning odor of so many bodily fluids together.

When Justine looked at herself in the mirror, she wept at the brutal mess that Baker and his gang had made of her looks. Oh, she would heal and be her lovely self again, but the French-Canadian soccer mom would never quite feel the same way about herself ... ever. The realization that she had also cum repeatedly during the gang-bang didn’t help matters. It was something that she had repressed about herself, refused to admit that it aroused her, but still she recalled how much she had actually enjoyed those cocks inside her while Baker and his boys wreaked havoc on her body. What was wrong with her, that she would moan and cream herself while being used and fucked so damn much? She came while they used her mouth, her pussy, even her ass in the roughest ways that they could, thus making her bleed from the last one especially. The memory of cumming while she took it from ass to mouth was enough to make Justine puke all over again.

Then the real worry struck home. In the midst of her trauma, pain, and shame, Justine had forgotten to check on her kids. Where were they? She especially worried about her twins, Anne and Therese. Those sixteen year old redheads had already started to mature ahead of their peers, so much that they looked seventeen easily. Were they with Baker or still somewhere around here? Justine searched frantically for them, as well as her fifteen-year old middle daughter, Chantal, and her only son, the youngest, fourteen-year-old Richard.

Well, the boy was easy to find, as it happened, since he made muffled screams through the gag in his mouth. He was bound and his shorts were down, confirming the worst. None of them had been spared the horrors of rape. Her daughters were all nude and tied up, too. That they weren’t gagged was probably due to them not resisting or shouting like their brother. All of them showed signs that they had been repeatedly and constantly violated.

That wasn’t the worst part. Baker and his guys hadn’t left yet. They were just asleep, drunkenly snoring into the open air, having gotten tired before they remembered to tie her up at all. Either that or someone had gone back for an encore and neglected to restrain her afterward. That was when Justine made her mistake. Instead of killing the Bakers, she simply untied her kids and headed back for the Blazer. She started up the engine, only once she had held her children and dried their tears a bit. Her clothes were destroyed and she was cold, but she opted for escape over getting dressed again. Still naked, the divorcee tried to back out and drive away. Unfortunately for Justine, her tires were slashed ... yes, all four of them.

The noise alerted Baker and his goons, who forced open the doors and yanked Justine and her kids out of it. They threw them back down on the ground and tossed the scattered remains of her dismembered boyfriend, Gaston, at them. It was clearly meant as a warning. Justine hadn’t wondered too much about what had happened to him, mostly because she feared the worst and didn’t want to know it. Now it confronted her, as the thugs flaunted what they did to her late, lamented lover in her face.

“I don’t know if that faggot screamed more while we buggered his ass or while we carved him up alive. He came, though, when we rammed his ass, which means that he was a queer, a homo. Yes, that’s right, slut, your beau was a real cocksucker who loved to get it up the ass as well. No wonder he couldn’t protect you. Not that you really wanted him to. You came so much while we fucked you that I almost thought I was in porn for a moment,” Baker sneered, reveling in his new power.

“You raped me! Raped all of us! It wasn’t sex, it was RAPE!” Justine screamed at him, sickened by what had happened to her boyfriend while she came during her gang-rape ... the guilt was overwhelming.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, but you and your twins all got very wet and moaned loudly when we fucked you. They take it after you, I guess. How old are they? Sixteen? Seventeen? They’re yummy, too. Their bodies are growing fast. Well past puberty, I suppose. That explains it,” Baker snickered, as did his friends.

Justine held her kids close while they shivered and feared to look at the goons. She worried greatly about what might come next. Gaston had proved to be less than a stellar boyfriend in many respects, but not least of these was his failure to stand up and defend his family. On that point, Baker was quite correct. Since they had fled the suburbs, Gaston had shown himself increasingly hopeless at anything about survival. Justine had been forced to take charge and give him orders just so they wouldn’t starve. That she, a mostly typical suburban working mom from Montreal, knew more about such things than Gaston did reflected very poorly on her choice of partners.

Her ex-husband, Charles, had been very different. A rough and ready fellow from Maine, he was of French stock as well, but the similarities ended there. He hunted, fished, and practiced target shooting until he was a damned good marksman. He was twice as large a man as Gaston, but he was no gentle giant. The man had chased off muggers with baseball bats before when they tried to gang up him after games.

This was before she had divorced him while back in Canada for the summer and then successfully pushed for custody in the courts there. She had counted on him staying in Portland, but he had surprised her by moving to Quebec to see his kids regularly and secure visitation rights. That stunt succeeded because it impressed the judge in the trial case as proof of a devoted father. It was too bad that he couldn’t have been in town when all hell broke loose, but he had been called back to Maine for urgent business and as far as Justine knew, had never returned.

Right now, Justine would have traded Gaston and anything else to have Charles with her again, protecting the family as he used to do. She had hated his violent ways and that had been among the factors in their divorce, but now she realized that he was right all along. Her crazy Yank ex-husband wouldn’t have been a victim, and neither would she or the kids. Everyone had supported her back then, but they were just as wrong. So, on top of everything else, Justine felt guilty about leaving a good man for a pathetic wimp like Gaston. Charles had taught her how to do what was needed to survive, and must have felt just as frustrated as she did when she tried to guide Gaston. Yet more guilt and remorse now filled her.

Also, she was worried. Where was Charles? Would she ever have the chance to make it up to him? At this point, she would have crawled back to him on broken glass to be his wife again and have the children safe as well. Maybe that was why she had never married Gaston or had his babies yet; the subconscious fear that he might be the wrong man for her. Of course, there was also her Catholic upbringing, which frowned upon divorce and remarriage.

Charles had never been the poster boy for marital fidelity, but frankly Justine was worse about it and she knew as much. It was bad enough to cheat, but to dump the strong and steady father of your children to be with a panty waste like Gaston added insult to injury. Indiscretions aside, Charles was still far better husband material than Gaston ever could be. Besides, adultery was a traditional vice in many countries, hers included. Justine couldn’t think of a single man in her family who had been entirely faithful to his wife, and many of the women had been naughty as well.

Those were the thoughts that Justine had while trying to comfort her children and waiting to see what Baker and his thugs had in mind for them now. That was when she made a decision. Whatever happened, she would be strong for her children. She wouldn’t let them be harmed again. If she had to die in the process, either from fighting or from being fucked, Justine would protect her family from these thugs. She would do whatever it took, but she would save them from being raped again, and especially from being murdered or tortured.

Justine had an impulse and went with it. She knelt before Baker, her mouth open and clearly offering him head. He grinned savagely and went for it, thinking with the wrong brain as usual. He knew that he was right about this cunt. She was a slut who only needed a decent gang-bang to turn her loose. Those were his exact thoughts as he pumped in and out of Justine’s mouth, and then he suddenly felt the sharp pain of her teeth sinking into his cock, biting hard on it. He screamed and twisted her nose just long enough that he could force her mouth open and free his mangled dick. It wasn’t gone, just bleeding and punctured, possibly ruined by her vicious bite.

Baker couldn’t stand the pain and he doubled over, at which point his friend and protégé Curtis took pity and cut his throat with a Bowie knife. His blood flowed freely now and Curtis finished the job by snapping his neck. Seconds later, the disgusting rapist known as Baker was dead as a dog and left to his fate by his so-called friends. Even so, they wanted to teach Justine a lesson, so each man lit a cigarette and started to put it out on her flesh, making her shriek in agony, but they didn’t get very far in this pursuit.

Shots rang out, particularly buckshot, and three of the six crumpled to the leaf-covered ground. The others tried to flee, but the shotgun fired off again and again. Finally, one of the crew limped away, but not before another sound went off. This was a sharper report, and it came from an AR-15 in another direction. The last ruffian dropped to his knees and then crashed to the earth.

Two men came into view for Justine. One was a stranger, about half the other guy’s height, but still wiry and strong. He carried the rifle, while his companion, much more familiar, wielded the shotgun. They didn’t seem to know each other. They were just drawn by the same screams, that was all. Clearly, however, they had the same bright idea: kill the thugs and save the family.

As Justine looked closer at the man with the 12-gauge, she realized who it was. Charles, thank God! It was her wonderful ex. She was so excited to see him that she forgot to wash the blood out of her mouth before kissing him on the lips. He grimaced and spat out the revolting fluid, causing her to realize what she had done. Instead of trying that again, Justine simply pulled her ex-husband back to her and pressed her bosom to his. He pulled away and she felt as if he had struck her, something that he never did in spite of his supposed violence.

“No time for that. How are the kids?” Charles stated baldly, but his voice shook with horror as it became apparent what had taken place. His family had needed him, and he was away, damn it!

“Daddy!” the girls and Richard all ran to him when they saw their savior. He held each of them and let them weep as long as they wished, not trying to stop them at all.

“Where is Gaston?” Charles finally asked as the other man stood by and inspected the area, not wishing to intrude in what was clearly family time.

“Dead,” the stranger said at last, “Assuming that these are his remains. Who is Gaston, if I might ask?”

“My boyfriend, or he was. No great loss to me. Tabernac! I should never have left you, Charles. We belong together, not split up by some stupid little yuppie who didn’t know better than to break up a good marriage like ours. I know, I know. I was a rotten excuse for a wife, but I never realized just how patient you were with me until today. I don’t know your name, sir, but perhaps you can witness this. I am reversing the usual custom, because it’s my turn to propose. Charles Tremaine, will you take me back as your wife? I know about the other women. I just don’t give a fuck anymore about that. Sorry, kids, but Mommy has to say that this time. I knew about the others all along, but I used it as an excuse to leave a man like you, who frankly is the best guy I’ve known in my life. I don’t deserve you, but I want you back. I’m selfish enough to want you back. Take me back, please. Marry me all over again,” Justine pleaded with her ex-husband, on her knees.

“I wasn’t that great of a husband, either, and I can’t promise not to cheat again, I warn you. It’s my nature. Still, the kids need us back together and I think that we shouldn’t risk this happening again. Clearly, you need me around, babe. That’s a damned good start to a marriage, at least like they had in hard times like these in the past. I don’t know if this is love or not. I don’t personally give a rat’s ass, either. We’re a family. I came back to find you after this whole thing started, and I’ve found you at last. This was what I feared for you and now that it’s happened, I won’t let history repeat itself. However, from now on, let’s be clear about something. I am in charge. I’m the boss. I wear the pants in this marriage. Is that agreed?” Charles declared, much to Justine’s relief.

“Thank you, honey. That’s all I want from you. I want us back together and taking care of these kids. They’re going to need us more than ever now that this has happened to them. I agree to your terms. I surrender. Complete, unconditional surrender, too,” Justine decided abruptly.

“Smart girl. Alright, let’s get this place cleaned up and camp out for a while. We need to rest and recover before moving on. You, sir, what’s your name?” Charles inquired of the stranger with the AR-15.

“Mike Hawkins. No relation to Sadie or Sophie, in case you’re wondering. Are you Americans or Canadians? Your wife sounds French, but you don’t,” Mike asked in turn.

“I’m the Yank, as they say around here. Charles Tremaine, from Portland, Maine. You don’t miss much, do you? My restored wife here is of French stock, yes. She’s from Montreal, or nearby at least. Justine, thank the nice man for helping save you,” Charles urged his ex.

“Yes, thank you, sir ... Mr. Hawkins,” Justine blushed, recalling that she was still naked.

“Call me Mike. Nice to meet you folks. Sounds like these times have more effect than counseling in terms of reconciling couples, if you ask me. Still, it’s a tragedy, all this death and suffering. Murder, rape, mayhem, what kind of crime isn’t rampant lately? You guys must not know where you are, by the way. You’ve crossed over into Vermont, or what was Vermont, at least. We’re about two miles west of the New Hampshire border. Damn shame, all these goons around. If you ask me, the only answer these days is to put them all six feet under. Trials can come when we have law and order again, a functioning society. Pleasure to meet you folks. Mind if I tag along? I promise you, I’ll behave. I’ll even take orders, since you know your way around a shotgun better than I do with my AR-15, and that’s saying a lot,” Mike suggested.

“Well, we could use a guide, in fact. Have you heard anything about any large communities forming? I hope that we can locate such a colony and all settle down to work as part of it. Then the kids will be safe and able to be kids again. They can go back to school and all of that. The last thing that we need is to be roaming the wilderness permanently,” Charles pried.

“As it happens, I’m looking for one in particular, but I’d rather we headed there together, for all of our sakes. It’s called Haven, and it’s a considerable distance from here, just a warning. Rumors have spread that many outlaws are fleeing as far from this ‘Haven’ as they can go. Something to do with men with guns and shit like that. Rumor has it that they have a whole armory at the place. There is some kind of militia that reports to the leaders of Haven, who they call Elders or something like that. Word to the wise, though. It’s a religious colony, so that could well mean a cult of some kind. Still, shouldn’t we look for it before we judge it?” Mike advised Charles, who nodded in approval.

“Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Okay, let’s go searching for Haven. Who knows, it could be just the place we need, or that needs us. Which direction is it?” Charles agreed, though he still intended to camp there for a while and rest. Today was no time to begin the journey.

“For now, however, let’s make camp and get this all cleaned up. Justine, don’t you have any more clothes for the kids to wear? They’re all naked except for Richard, and he’s half-naked. For that matter, where are your clothes?” Charles continued, taking note of Justine’s nudity and the fact that she seemed a little too comfortable with it.

“Honey, please don’t worry about me. I’m alright. A little chilly, that’s all. To be honest, I kind of like being naked. It feels right to me. I could get used to it. I must be a nudist at heart. I’ll find the kids their clothes, however. They’re in this bag,” Justine looked for them in the back of the Blazer, discovering to her horror that they were all gone as well. The goons had to have deliberately discarded or destroyed them.

“Sorry, they must have gotten rid of them, dear. Please forgive me,” Justine hung her head this time, feeling ashamed that she had failed to even secure the clothing, let alone the innocence, of their children.

“Baby, it’s not your fault. You were raped. They probably chose to do this once you were unable to stop them. Damn, there are cigarette burns on your skin! How badly do they hurt, honey?” Charles’s hands roamed Justine’s body, stroking her chestnut hair lightly as his eyes examined her for such burns.

“Pretty bad, dear. They tortured me in that way and others, but I should have been strong enough to resist them. I couldn’t save any of us, including Gaston or even Richard. I failed badly, honey,” Justine began sobbing.

“That wasn’t something that you could control. That’s why you should have stayed with me, among other reasons. You did better than I expected, frankly, but you’re still a soccer mom. You’re not cut out for this life, not without me. Now, let’s get the youngsters washed up and everything set up, too. They might not have clothes, but at least they can be clean. Well, at least Richard can put his clothes back on, but you’ll have to wash them, too. Frequently, since they’re his only clothes, and that means that even he will have to be naked now and then. Poor fella.

“Then again, maybe it’s for the best. I’ve often wondered if clothing was a wise invention, at least outside of its most utilitarian functions. Modesty and self-consciousness aren’t exactly healthy. Perhaps he should get used to nudity now. I just don’t want to encourage the rapist types, but it’s too late for that,” Charles remarked with his typical disdain for conventional mores.

“Well, that’s a valid point, and sad to say, I fear that their innocence is gone forever. Not that I want to encourage any further crimes against them. I’m just saying that they have seen naked bodies and are well aware of their anatomy by now. You can’t put that genie back into the bottle. I hope for their sakes it doesn’t ruin them for life, but only time will tell. They’re our kids, but they’re never going to be the same again. I can just tell,” Justine shuddered at that awareness.

“It’s gonna be okay, and you’re right, of course. Honey, for now, let’s focus on what needs to be done, and then we can look better into the future. Mike, since you want to come with us, mind if we ask you about yourself a little more? Justine, get the kids washed first, and then worry about the rest. Mike and I are going to talk for a bit,” Charles commanded his ex-wife, who was only too willing to comply.

“I’m, or was, on my third marriage. I have no fucking clue where my wife is, if she’s still alive. You’re luckier that way. My exes are all gone somewhere as well. My kids? Who the hell knows? I just returned from Afghanistan when this whole crazy shit started up. Some of my buddies are still probably stranded over there. Who the hell knows how they’ll survive, if they do? Me? I made it home barely in time to be too late. All that I have left of my stuff I carry with me, down to the buck knife and my guns. I choose not to torment myself with mementos of kids I’ll never see again. Anyway, seventeen years in the Army, gone just like that. I was three years away from my pension! Just three! It would have been a much better life for sure. Well, assuming that the pension system didn’t go broke, of course. That turned out to be a real shock to the system,” Mike ranted about his past.

“Anyway, I keep getting radio traffic on the CBs, or what’s left of them, speaking of this ‘Haven’ place. That’s where I hear these rumors, you see. All kinds of nice things about Haven. You don’t have to lock your doors at night. You can make deals with a handshake and on someone’s word of honor. That sort of thing. It sounds like the place that people of my generation heard about but have never seen, short of a trip to Amish country. Thankfully, I believe that these people have more than horses and buggies. They are religious types, but I’m not clear about the exact nature of their teachings. I don’t reckon that I’ll find out until we meet them, however,” Mike rambled on.

“Yeah, definitely piquing my interest, that much is clear. How about you, babe?” Charles agreed.

“I follow the leader now, dear, and that’s you. I’m just grateful that you rescued me and took me back, along with the kids, of course,” Justine answered with real feeling, as she was indeed glad to be his again.

Richard was just about done with his bath by now, and while the teens were actually more than old enough to bathe themselves, they seemed to agree telepathically that there was comfort after their ordeal in having their mother do it for them. For Richard, perhaps, being a normal teen boy, it was a conflict between the embarrassment of being pampered by his mother and his natural attraction to her. Then again, he was a bit traumatized and needed the solace. It wasn’t long before it was clear to both Charles and Mike that each victim needed some medical aid for the injuries inflicted by Baker and his gang. They were more than ready to apply it, though in Justine’s case, Mike found it awkward due to the mutual attraction. He wasn’t ready to cause trouble with Charles, so he kept his dirty thoughts to himself, of course. He was somewhat aware about how Anne and Therese felt about it, too, but he had even more reserve about the idea of the twins after being told they were not yet adults. This was presumably out of habit, given that the age of consent laws were moot now. It was weird because of their slightly more developed state, but he did his best to ignore that as well.

The camping out situation lasted about a week, while the men hunted and gathered to find enough food for their little group. Justine, of course, kept busy with the cooking, cleaning, and nurturing, very much a housewife these days. They didn’t have a lot of time or energy for much else, nor was anyone in a particularly sexy mood, but that was sure to change in the near future. Generally speaking, they were all too busy to bicker as well, so they got along fairly well.

However, things came to a head at the end of the week, when the small group of refugees were joined by a couple from the area, the Reiners. Bill and Bethany Reiner had six children to the Tremaine four, and Bethany bulged with the evidence of yet another bun in the oven. They seemed a fairly happy pair, so this was essentially just extra labor and support, not to mention more reinforcement of the idea of Haven. The Reiners found the notion of such a place extremely welcome, so now there were five adults in the little band of travelers, three men and two women. Mike was still the odd man out, but he didn’t mind so much for now, as it was still temporary, and he was still adjusting to the state of marital limbo in which he found himself.