The World Championships. A Rape Odyssey

[HistBuff]

CHAPTER 33 --- BACK HOME

Dorval Airport had opened in 1941, replacing the overcrowded St. Hubert Airport as Montreal's primary hub for international flights. Now, only five years later, no less than a quarter million passengers were going through the new airport each year.

As the 50-passenger DC-4 drew lower and closer to the runway, Daniel looked past his seat neighbour through the porthole. The night was dark with some white lines. It was snowing over Montreal. The young officer suddenly realized he had left his peak-cap at the back. In all this wild excitement of his night of rape, he had completely forgotten it in the lounge. As soon as the plane would be landed, he'd have to go back and fetch it.

A woman's hand with painted fingernails handed him a paper note from the seat in front of him. It was the young wife giving him her home address. He put it in the lower left pocket of his uniform's tunic. Tears began welling in his eyes as he thought of Zabel and Princess Margaret, and also remembered Mary Higgins and her middle-class charm.

What he had done that night drew him far from them, far below them. He felt completely lost as a soul. He didn't deserve a honest girl like Zabel. And yet the Armenian maiden would be there to meet him at the airport. He was sure of it even though his telegrams to her had been met with no reply.

As the DC-4 touched down, he realized he no longer felt the joyful elation he had felt upon remembering his time with the Princess when the plane went into the clouds upon leaving London. The cheap sex he had had with the wife, and the rapes he had committed or been accomplice to on the stewardesses had dragged him down where he no longer had the right to think about Princess Margaret. Perhaps he was no longer entitled to think of Zabel either. He was a hoodlum wearing a uniform he had no rights to!

As the passengers unfastened their seat-belts and it was time to get up and off the plane, a very young man handed him his peak-cap.

"Here you are, Sir!"

It was the son of that man who had partaken to the rapes in the lounge. Daniel wanted to warn him about taking such a bad path, but the lad spoke.

"I'm taking great lessons from you, Sir! Now Adèle's going to get a royal thrashing!"

Before Daniel could say anything, the lad was already gone. Then Daniel's eyes met Maude's and the stewardess looked down, then suddenly turned and walked away. Daniel felt ashamed of what he had done. Greatly ashamed. And just outside the plane, Zabel his fiancée was waiting for him!

Daniel took his carry-on luggage, and since he traveled light, it was all he had. As he lined up and walked the isle behind the elderly man, then got out of the DC-4 and down the side stairs near the wing's motionless propellers, he was hit by a burst of cold wind and realized he was amid a snowfall that was getting heavier.

A man in his middle years about his height looked at him. Daniel, in a mental gray haze, recognized his own father. He suddenly found himself in the midst of his family and felt even more ashamed of what he had done, of his whole behaviour over there in Europe.

His mother kissed him and hugged him. The woman was in tears and kept saying how worried she had been the whole time. His father shook hands with him, hiding his own feelings out of pride. So did his elderly brother. Then came his five young sisters, each of whom hugged him and looked up to him as if he were a Prince returned home. These girls aged between eight and nineteen had nothing but admiration for their war-hero brother. Daniel's eyes were wet with tears and everyone assumed these were tears of joy. Those were tears of shame. Zabel was nowhere to be seen.

Then there was a lovely small girl with blonde hair and an angel's face. It was Isabelle, a cousin. The fifteen-year-old girl flung herself in his arms.

"Daniel, mon beau grand cousin! Tu m'as tellement, tellement manqué!" (Daniel, my big handsome cousin! I really really missed you!) she whispered only for him to hear.

There was so much passion in her hugging that Daniel couldn't help but think there was something more in how the girl felt about him. This made him uneasy. Was she about to sense the bad deeds he had done only two hours before? Was she going to see through him and run away? She kept her face pressed to his chest, nearly wrapping herself in his open greatcoat and bathed his face with the maiden's scent of her hair.

Then there was his uncle, a solid-strong farmer who lived about three miles in the country off village Sainte-Thérèse. Louis Lévesque was his father's elder brother. Isabelle was his youngest daughter. He said he'd be proud to have everyone in his house where his wife and his other daughters were preparing a great breakfast with pancakes, bacon and maple syrup to welcome the hero home!

Daniel looked around. There was absolutely no sign of Zabel. This was all he deserved. And yet he felt prodigiously alone. But he had brought it on himself.

***

Daniel felt his heart warm up with all his family surrounding him with their unconditional love. He needed this love. War had turned him into a monster who loves raping girls. Perhaps his family was the only thing that could save him. Love and the Church. He'd go pray in Oratoire Saint-Joseph as soon as he could.

One thing worried him. He was jobless now. He thought about it the whole time he sat in his father's car, in the backseat where Manon, his thirteen in-between sister kept teasing him with mocking touches. He hugged his sister and asked her about how she was doing at school while the 1935 Ford drove through the island of Laval in heavy snow, right into the night on highway 11. Lights from village hit his eyes now and then... L'Abord à Plouffe... Chomedey... Fabreville... Sainte-Rose... then the bridge and here he was on the north shore of Rivière des Mille-Îles... They would soon be driving by this golf course where he had worked as a caddie from 10 to 17 years old.

At last, the car went up this slope that marked the beginning of a plateau called the Bouclier canadien. It was just north of Village Sainte-Thérèse some 12 miles north of Montreal. When the weather was nice and the air was clear, one could see the Oratoire Saint-Joseph and Mont royal from up that slope. Once up there, his father turned to the right and followed the leading car on Chemin Côte Saint-Louis.

All three cars were soon parked at the family farm. Daniel was greeted by his aunt, a most hospitable farmer's wife who looked as generous as mother nature herself, and three lovely young women between seventeen and twenty-two, each far thinner than their mother and the elder one about to get married. Isabelle blushed when her elder sister teased her about the way she kept looking at Daniel. This while the in-between sister, nineteen years old and brown hair leaning on the rust-red, took off his greatcoat and his peak-cap and she hospitably took care of those items before he could thank her. He didn't deserve such love.

At the table, his father said his younger brother, who was a butcher owning his own shop, could take Daniel as a hand to handle those big carcasses of beef since he was so strong. His elder uncle, the one owning this farm, was actually one of the strongest man Daniel had ever seen. Not weightlifting strong, but there was a big stone that weighed more than 600 pounds, and there was only one man who ever managed to lift it off the ground. His uncle.

One thing worried him even more. Zabel wasn't there. Everyone seemed to be avoiding the topic. It was as if his fiancée no longer existed. He knew Zabel had no doubt seen the newspaper photos where he was with Nadia, but this was already a month ago. Zabel must have been hurt by this a great deal more than he had thought. Why didn't he hurry back home sooner? He missed her so much, and she seemed to be drifting away from him. She now felt out of reach, even further out of bounds than Princess Margaret.

"Daniel, I think Zabel no longer wants to see you," his fifteen-year-old cousin whispered to his ear. "Nobody wants to talk about her and everybody is actually happy with this since she is no Catholic, but I can understand how hard this must be for you. I was there when mother and your mother were talking about it the other day."

His golden-haired cousin was sitting at his side and always leaning very close to him, so much so that her mother noticed and frowned, which prompted Isabelle to sit straighter and finish her eggs and bacon.

"Oh, pecan-and-sugar pie! My favourite!" Isabelle said, her face suddenly like the child Daniel had always known, except there was something adult in the way she looked at him. Isabelle was plump in the middle of those waters where a child stops being just a child and starts to quickly turn into a grown-up. Isabelle was perhaps still only five feet tall or a bit less, but she was clearly growing up and well on her way to become a young woman.

"Sweet kisses!" Isabelle suddenly said and kissed Daniel on his lips, depositing a definite taste of maple syrup that went with a whiff from the scent of her hair --- wavy blonde hair, long and reaching her mid back. A girl whom a painter would be proud to paint as "a country girl fetching water at a spring".

"Isabelle, you can help me serve, can't you?" her mother said, frowning even more than before.

Times were changing. Back in 1900 and before, cousins marrying each other was not rare and it was accepted. Those were times when families were really large and most people lived in villages or small towns, where so many people were related that marrying between cousins, especially second- or third-degree, was nearly inevitable.

But now it was 1946. More and more folks lived in bustling cities. Taking a romantic interest in one's cousin was quickly becoming frowned upon. The law didn't forbid it. Society greatly disapproved it, perhaps just as much as religion disapproved marriage between a Catholic and an Orthodox like Zabel. Daniel felt a deep pang of loneliness as he began to feel that indeed, the Armenian-heritage girl with black-magic hair and Andalusian eyes would no longer see him.

Then Daniel was to be driven to his parents' home in Sainte-Thérèse, as it was well past two o'clock in the night due to the shift in time zones. It was about seven in the morning in England. Upon his taking his leave and donning his greatcoat and his peak-cap he felt he didn't deserve, Isabelle gave him another one of her "sweet kisses" and whispered in his ear, "Please come see me more often!"

This greatly troubled Daniel. He had never thought about Isabelle in that way, but she clearly had feelings for him. And she was growing. Fast! Almost a young woman already! Yes, she was really pretty now. Slim, pretty and adorable. But he felt it would be best to stay away from her, to protect her innocence from those dark things dwelling inside him. And Isabelle was too young anyway.

Daniel then slept like a baby in his childhood room, the one he had shared for so long with his elder brother Serge, who was now married to a Blanche with two children.

Next morning it was Monday and he felt like a new man. His mother wanted to have him for at least a few days, but he had to pay the arrears on his rent in Montreal and also make some inquiries downtown about his old job.

***

Daniel took a bus, then a cab to Montreal while his father was gone to work. He went straight to Ahuntsic, at the very edge of the urban area, where Zabel lived in a house with her Armenian-born parents. He knocked at the door. Zabel's mother answered, a forty-something version of her daughter, with the same long hair that caught the daylight in a way that made a man pause and look within him for dreams he had forgotten. She was looking at him with a stern face, unimpressed by his Army officer's uniform and greatcoat. Daniel felt he didn't belong there anymore.

"Zabel no longer wants to see you," she said with her lovely accent, rolling her R's. "The poor girl was in tears when she saw you with that tramp in the newspaper! You have a lot of nerve to come here after what you did to her! Now please go away, and change into civilian clothes. The war is over."

Daniel insisted, suspecting Zabel was home, but her mother was adamant. It was no use, so he left. He took the bus to Parthenais Street and found her landlady Armande just as lovable as she had always been. Armande was a single woman in her late thirties. She was a reputable dress maker with a heart of gold. He found his apartment the way he had left it and paid the 35-dollar rent for both November and December with some of the money he had left.

His bankroll was getting low, but this could wait. He had about 80 dollars in a cash reserve hidden in his apartment. Daniel spent the entire day lying on his bed and crying. He had lost Zabel and was grieving her. He was home alone. It was all right to let himself go and allow himself to be sad. Sad about his missed life with the one girl who meant everything to him.

Why couldn't he just wait 'till next year? Everything was going just fine until Nadia -- may she rot in Hell! -- came to him and pulled him from his usual life into mad flight from the Soviet agents. This had been the trigger that had awaken so many bad things within him. But now he was back home. Now things would be just fine and dandy. Yes, he'd be all right.

But then he remembered last summer. Zabel's kissing. All those little things they did together. Zabel at the beach at Lac-des-sables in Sainte-Agathe-des-Monts. Zabel and her lovely little feet he longed to touch again. Her hair... Bright and black under the sun, and her tantalizing charms hidden skin-tight by her swimsuit. And he was never going to be the man who'd deflower her! Daniel was caught by a fit of sobbing and he bitterly cried for another half hour.

He was no longer a man fit for his love, and Zabel was wise to leave him. She deserved a better man. This was going to hurt a lot, but in time he'd feel better and start afresh. He was going to become a better man. But then, no other girl was like Zabel. No other girl would do!

Next day found Daniel at Zabel's door once again. This time, Zabel's mother was harsher. She threatened to call the cops on him if he didn't go at once.

Daniel then took the bus to Little Italy and ate a large plate of cannelloni at a fine little joint. Decoration was modest, but not cheap. Simple, but showing good taste. There were red roses, fresh ones, near the windows.

The Italian waitress was smiling at him, making a point in offering him a three-quarter profile so he could see the shapes of her bosom through her work shirt. She was absolutely no older than twenty. At least, she was Catholic! But she was no Zabel.

When he went to the loo, Daniel finally noticed the large blood stains on his uniform's trousers. Blood from the stewardess. Pussy blood. Rape blood. How unclean he was! He avoided his reflection in the mirror. He loathed himself. He loathed what he had become. At least his uniform's tunic was hiding most of those stains so it wasn't as serious as it looked, but he definitely needed to have his trousers cleaned before he had to report to the local reserve regiment on Friday night.

He paid his meal and left a generous tip to the waitress, but didn't look at her and promptly left, or at least he was about to leave when he heard the waitress...

"Is there something wrong, Sir? You've left me a whole one-dollar bill! Are you sure you're all right?"

The dark-haired waitress was looking at him, half-amused, half-sensual. Playing with strands in her hair while looking at him a bit sideways, wearing an amused smile as the daylight fell on her brown eyes. She stood about the same height as Princess Margaret or Blanche. About five feet one. Daniel liked those petite ladies. He liked them very much, but he wasn't really in the mood to date. His head was still whirling from all the different girls he had kissed or raped.

And yet he walked to her in the empty dining room. It was two o'clock and some Italian baroque clock, all gilded with mock gold, chimed the hour while the waitress subtly shifted and offered him her three-quarter profile as she smiled at him, making it very clear she was available.

Daniel thought about the blood stains adorning his trousers all over the groin area. It felt strange, since this Italian girl with pale skin looked a bit like Maude, the stewardess he had raped with such barbaric brutality.

"How old are you, sweetheart?" Daniel suddenly asked.

"Uh?! Eighteen. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I had a very long flight yesterday, just back from London. Would you like to go to the movies tonight or sometimes soon?"

"I'd love to! Yes, tonight. I'll give you my address. My folks and I don't live far from here. You're Catholic for sure, oh, this is so so important for my parents! Just be there at seven. Ask for Maria. G'd bye, handsome! And thanks for the nice tip!"

And she gave him a wide Italian smile, and stood as tall as her diminutive size would allow her to. She was arching her back, causing her boobs to push out of her chest and stretch her work shirt a bit. Daniel loved her figure and pictured himself in the act of tearing this shirt open to get a closer look. His erection came alive under his trousers. Trousers stained from the menstruating stewardess he had "played with" the night before.

Perhaps sensing the change in him, Maria smiled even brighter, but then an elderly couple showed up and she went up to greet them, and her smiled stirred some old memory in the old husband's heart. Daniel looked at the husband and thought of the elderly man who had shared his plane seat and partaken to the rapes. Why did the idea of rape kept coming back all the time? It was like fate. Inescapable fate.

***

His uniform did a great impression at his old job... in the eyes of the pretty receptionist, a brunette a few years his senior, who smiled at him while he instantly pictured himself having forced sex with her bent over that solid oak desk. Rape. Again.

She laughed and tilted her head up, looking at him as if he were a demigod. Sizing him up from head to toe in fact.

"Mr. Downing will see you in five minutes. It's good to see you, Daniel! Can I fetch you a cup of coffee? Look, I'm having my pause in half an hour? Would you like to wait and have a cigarette with me?"

Anne had never been so flirty with him before. It felt as if wearing an officer's uniform had turned him into some movie star. He ought to have a picture of himself taken so he would fondly remember those days decades later when he'd be an ageing man with a thicker face and receding hair. How smug he could be at times! Smug and vain. And a rapist with blood-stained trousers marking him as such.

He decided to take her up on her offer. What if she wanted to fuck? Fucking Anne would be fun. But he had a date that very night with Maria, and he was feeling really tired due to the shift in time zones from London to Montreal. To him, it was already evening while the afternoon sun was still high above Montreal and her snow-covered buildings.

Anne was nice, but Maria was more his type. Absolutely! She had such wonderful boobs that would fit right in his hand. And she was eighteen! He could be much bolder with Maria as he had been with Mary Higgins or -- God forbid! -- Princess Margaret. He also understood, at twenty-two, that those days where he could date so young a girl as eighteen or sixteen wouldn't last, while he still had long years ahead of him where he'd be able to fuck a twenty-six-year-old unmarried woman like Anne. Anne was a nice girl who deserved better than being treated as a second-best option. He'd have a cigarette with her and that would be just about it. But would he be able to stop himself if Anne offered him more? All right, then this would be his test! The first step on his way to becoming a decent gentlemen. No more rapes!

After Mr. Downing informed him he had hired a replacement last month and his services were no longer required, and given him his severance pay, Anne made a point of informing him she was taking her afternoon off and invited him over to her place. She lived in a nice third-floor pad in Saint-Henri. And Daniel failed his test.

He ended up kissing and making out with the young woman after he had successfully prevented her from going down on him, lest she saw the blood stains on his trousers, and he kept her against the wall where he covered her with kisses and violently undid the buttons of her nice shirt, pale beige and very professional-looking.

"Yes! Yes! I... ooh! Handsome officer!" Anne said as Daniel kissed her high on her neck, just beneath her ear, just where she loved it best. She was so wet! He was so handsome! So hot!

Daniel put his peak-cap on top of her head. The brunette laughed. Her green eyes filled with lust as she kissed him back, her workday jacket lying down at her feet while he undid and opened her shirt. He cupped her bra-encased tits and caused her to whimper loud, then he pushed her bra up and filled the air with his primal grunt, "Nnrrrhhhhh!" as her boobs fell out and settled in their natural grooves, gently jiggling with light-brown nipples that floated near him and looked at him, loaded with female scent.

"Now, little tramp! I'm going to rape you!"

"W-what?!" Anne blurted out, her eyes suddenly taking a scared expression. "What did you just say?!"

"I'm gonna rape you and you'll love it! Now shut up and enjoy!"

"No! Stop this! Please, leave..."

But Daniel wasn't leaving any time soon. He stooped down and engulfed one of her naked tits in his mouth and began to powerfully knead the other one. She kept protesting and began to wriggle. Then she punched him in the side of his face where he was sucking her tit. It didn't hurt him much. She had small fists. But it pissed him off. He was going to rape her. He was hard down there and he had to.

Anne screamed as he slapped her hard. She fell down the floor in the passageway. He went on top of her and pinned her under his massive weight. She kept screaming. He slapped her again and told her to shut up. She grew scared and went silent. She was sobbing. She had been abused by an uncle for years. When she heard the word "rape", it turned her off instantly. And now she was under a man who was far too big and strong for her. Her revolver was in a drawer near her bed. In another room. Way out of reach. No! This couldn't be! But hey, Daniel was carrying a holstered pistol. Maybe she could...

Daniel had flipped her over. He kept one hand on her mouth to silence her and held one of her wrists with the other while violating the jiggling play of her breasts. He sensed the movement of her other hand and understood what she was trying to do. He smiled. Oh, God! Those tits smelled like heaven!

He let her take hold of his pistol while enjoying the flavour, the scent and the yielding softness of her tits.

"Stop right now or I swear I'll shoot!" Anne suddenly said.

"Go right ahead! Make my day! It's empty!"

There was an ominous click where Daniel felt the barrel right at his left side. The bitch! She had pulled the trigger! She would have shot him! He became very angry.

This time, he punched her. Her head wobbled to one side. A film of blood appeared at her mouth. Anne was groggy, half-unconscious in fact! Daniel took his pistol from her little hand.

He then pushed her skirt up before pulling her panties down her legs along with her stockings. He pulled out of it down her legs and past her feet, where her pumps lay on the floor, one upright, the other on its side. Two black heel shoes that were now just as useless as her neat jacket.

Daniel then spread her legs open and raped her. He grunted loud against her face. The half-unconscious girl felt a bit like Nadia. Very tight, almost as tight as Blanche. Daniel knew that Zabel would be the tightest of them all. Zabel was the one girl he could never have. Driven by rage, he vented out his anger and frustration in the way he raped Anne on the floor. The hallway was filled with his unrestrained grunts as he raped her in a frenzy. Rape! Rape! Rape!

He licked her face while her groggy head kept bobbing along with his fast-paced strokes. She felt good to rape! Rape! He pictured himself in the act of raping some French wife in Normandy. Twenty-six years old with perky boobs! Her husband forced to watch. Forced to hear the screams of his younger sister as this second girl was being raped by five of Daniel's men in another room. More men stood there and waited for their turns inside the wife.

Daniel raped her unrestrained, his blood-stained trousers pushed down, her bobbing head filling him with the scent of her chestnut hair. Her whimpers, wonderful to hear. Her pussy gripping him and pulling him nearer to his edge with each urgent stroke.

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHH..."

The ejaculation was satisfying. Very much so! It was a rush of raging bolts while Daniel was on top of her with his face buried in her hair, swimming in the scent of her hair perfume, her sweat and her tearful whimpers. A lovely rape. Primal and sensual. Then it filled him with guilt and a sense of failure.

He stood up, looked down at the sobbing, defeated woman. He put his empty pistol back in its holster, put himself back together and then left her apartment.

As he walked in the Saint-Henri neighbourhood, he whistled a tune. The air was fresh and cold. A thin carpet of snow graced the streetscape with few cars passing, along with the horse-drafted carriages of produce merchants going about their business. Passersby made a random pattern. Pigeons were out and about. Dogs were barking here and there. The sun was getting low and when he passed by Oratoire Saint-Joseph, the entire cathedral looked as if she were made of blazing bronze.

"You need to change your ways," a voice within him said. He stopped in shock. What was it? A miracle? His guardian angel? Or just his own imagination. He felt tired.

Nonetheless, he climbed the stairs and entered inside the cathedral. He walked the long isle between benches. The ceiling was lofty. The place was vast and peaceful. Statues of saints and angels lined the high walls. Paintings of Jesus. Painted windows where Christ lived His Passion.

Daniel knelt down before God and signed himself. Perhaps there was still hope for him.

"There's always hope, young man," said a priest he had not noticed. The man kept walking, wearing a dark cassock. Daniel closed his eyes and prayed. When he looked again, the man was gone. No echoes from any footsteps. Daniel was alone.

TO BE CONTINUED.