8 comments/ 104527 views/ 10 favorites Spoils of War By: Couture Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by sexually explicit stories and situations. (c) 2003 Couture *********** Sarah was a young twenty-two year from Akron Ohio. She had a slender athletic body, conditioned and honed razor sharp by the US Army. She enlisted so she could pay for college. She never expected to get called into combat. She certainly didn't expect this. She tugged futilely at her bonds. Her body ached all over, but her joints hurt most of all. She couldn't even remember how she got here. The last thing she remembered was patrolling the streets of Baghdad with her unit. There had been a blast- a bomb of some sort. Rule number one was: Stay with your patrol. Somehow Sarah got separated. There had been an Arab woman motioning her to the safety of her house. As soon as she entered, something was held over her mouth. She smelled an acrid chemical scent that burned her lungs. There was panic and hyperventilation - and then - and then - nothing. She woke up to blackness, and realized there was something covering her eyes. Then the sickness came. She had dry heaves for the first ten minutes. Afterwards, she tried to reach up to pull the hood away or at the very least wipe the puke from her mouth, but her hands where tied above her head. One of her ankles was secured to the floor, while the other was secured about mid-thigh. Worse, they were tied so that they were spread apart. Sarah was scared as hell. She had never been more scared in her life. She was helpless and totally vulnerable for whatever the people who held her had planned. Her gun, even her very clothes had been taken away. Her dog tags were gone as well. She wasn't even a number, she was just a body. Her thick tongue reached out to sooth her dry cracked lips. How long had she been here? Her stomach growled and made her wonder when she had last eaten. She heard a door behind her slam, and then footsteps came closer and closer. She almost wet herself. Who were they? What did they want? Name, rank, serial number, name, rank, and serial number she repeated in her mind. I'm a good soldier. I'm a good soldier. But she wasn't good. She was scared as hell. The young soldier gasped when the hood was jerked off her head. She blinked her eyes as they became accustomed to the bright light of the room. It was a relief to see a woman and not a group of Iraqi soldiers. "Sarah Conway, Private US Army, 854660," she said by rote. The woman just smiled. Sarah recognized her as the woman she had tried to help in the street. "Oostatha Faiza," the Arab woman said, pointing to herself. Sarah was unable to point due to her hands being bound and drawn behind her back. "Sarah - Sarah Conway," she said. It felt strange to talk without the use of her hands. "No," Faiza spat. "Jew terrorist." Sarah shook her head, causing her matted hair to fall into her eyes. "No - private- US Army . . ." She felt the spittle running down her face, but there wasn't enough give in he bonds to even wipe it off. The Arab woman smiled cruelly. "Thirsty terrorist?" she asked, holding a small cup to Sarah's parched lips. Yes, thank God. Sarah leaned forward for a sip despite the pain to her shoulder joints. To her dismay, the cup held some sort of thick beige liquid. What was this? Some cruel sick joke? Some crude form of torture? "Make Jour face new and fresh. Hides flaws and blemishes," Faiza laughed. "I have rights," Sarah cried. "The Geneva conventions say . . . the Geneva. . ." Faiza interrupted the hapless girl by trying to force a tennis shoe into her mouth. "Just chew it." Sarah turned her head to avoid the onslaught. "I'm a prisoner of war," she laughed. "I have rights. . ." "Jew terrorist pig," Faiza said, spitting in Sarah's face again. "Jew have no rights." And then the hood was replaced. Sarah quickly lost track of time. There was random lights and loud Arabic music. It was impossible to sleep for more than a few minutes. She was tied up in various degrading and sexually revealing positions. Even though she was very flexible from years of dance classes when she was younger, it did little to help her body bear the strain from the awkward ways in which she was bound. Worse, in order to relieve the strain, she was forced at times to thrust her pelvis forward, and every time it happened, there was almost always a hand or probing fingers waiting for her. She fought against it for a time. Every once and awhile the hood was pulled off. The Arab bitch was always there smiling and trying to get her to eat or drink something that would make her sick or kill her. This time it was a quart of oil and a Backstreet Boys CD. "Please . . .mercy . . . water . . .food . . . sleep. . ." Sarah rasped. Her lips were broken and as thick as her tongue. "Not yet," Faiza said. "Jew not ready." And replaced the hood. This time she bound Sarah with both knees mounted to the posts at thigh level. Sarah was in such a pathetic condition, her knees grew weak and buckled within moments. Legs spread lewdly, her crotch sunk towards the floor. Faiza smiled and tested the girl by probing her cunt. There was a grunt below the hood, but the resistance had ceased. Yes, it was time. She set up everything she would need on the table beside the bound American, and then she started with a sponge bath. The pale skinned girl stunk. She had even wet herself during the course of events. After the American was clean, Faiza dipped her finger in scented oil and ran them over the young girl's sex, exploring its innermost regions. Sarah groaned. Her hips rolled in spite of themselves. 'No, please, not like this,' she begged silently. Faiza picked up a straight razor and began to shear the curly pubes from the helpless soldier. Afterwards, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. 'Not so fearsome now,' she thought to herself, as her eyes ravished the slim pale naked body bound tightly in front of her. She dipped her fingers in the oil again. This may be the American's last time. And the thought made her hot. She thrust her fingers in Sarah's bald shiny defenseless sex. She fucked it. She filled it with her fingers. Slowly adding them one after another, until Sarah's cunt bulged obscenely from Faiza's hand. Even as the hood was taken off and Sarah realized it was a woman who was taking her, she didn't try to fight. Back home there was a handsome young college boy waiting for her, but here, this pitiless Arab woman might be her only ally in this cruel, hot, inhospitable country. Sarah's orgasm blossomed, and her body shuddered briefly before her consciousness slipped away. ********** The American passed out. Good. It made the next part easier for Faiza. She was reluctant to do it, but it was necessary. Well, maybe not necessary, but surely prudent. She heated the needle red hot, and then pierced her prisoner's labia. She sealed them tightly with small gold rings. Afterwards, she cleaned the area with an antiseptic and proceeded to nurse the girl back to health. Sarah awoke with cool water on her lips. Briefly, she entertained the hope it had all been a dread, but her aching limbs and a new soreness suffusing her cunt told her otherwise. But the water, the water was good. She sucked it from the sponge. God, it was good. "Nice, jes terrorist?" Sarah nodded her head. And sucked greedily. A little more water and her stomach growled. How long had it been she had last eaten? It felt like she couldn't even remember her other life. "Jew like better than makeup and oil, jes?" "Yes." The water made it not so difficult to talk. "Jew kill for this, maybe I understand," Faiza said, showing Sarah the glass of water. "Jew kill for other," she pointed to the various things she had tried to force the American to eat or drink. "It make jew evil. Make jew a terrorist." "You don't understand," Sarah said. "Your country harbored terrorists and Saddam Hussein had very bad weapons." She did her best to keep her language simple to make the woman understand. "I think on this," Faiza said. She left the room for a few minutes. Maybe, must maybe I've gotten through to her, Sarah hoped. However, when Faiza returned it was several newspaper clippings, which she placed on the floor. Then she picked Sarah up and helped her to her feet. But it wasn't to freedom that Sarah was led, it was to several chains hanging from a wench attached to the ceiling. When Sarah realized what was happening, she struggled anew. But, she was weak and still bound. Faiza had no problem securing her and then hoisting the newly bound girl up. Lastly, she positioned the articles so that Sarah could read them below her. "And jew should think on it too," she said before leaving. It was horrible. Sarah had never felt so weak and helpless, so at the mercy of someone else's whim. Her arms were bound behind her, and her weight was being supported by her shoulders and knees. Within minutes her back was killing her. A little later, her knees began to separate, and the pain settled into her thighs and sex. It was then that she noticed the rings in her sex. Oh God, they had ruined her. She broke down crying, sobbing, and praying for rescue. She read the articles. They were from the Washington post and they said there were no weapons of mass destruction and there were no Al Quada links. Things she knew already. She knew she was going to have to be much more careful with what she said. Faiza was much smarter than she gave the woman credit for. When Faiza returned, Sarah hung limply. There wasn't even a spark of fight left in her when she was let down. "Jew eat and drink," Faiza said. "Maybe relax before we talk again." That was fine by Sarah. Especially if talking led to being bound like that again. She lay in Faiza's arms, and let the Arab woman give her sips of water. Faiza's robe was untied and her breasts swung pendulously above Sarah's face. It was a little disconcerting, but the American dared not to object, not when the woman was singing a foreign song and wiping Sarah's forehead off with a wet sponge, instead of hurting her or starving her. How could the woman be so motherly one moment and so cruel the next? She even accepted the little morsels of food Faiza fed her. There was only one thing. The food - it tasted funny. Must be different seasonings, she first thought. However, Faiza was making little faces, faces that could only be described as sexual. Sarah tried not to look, but her eyes were drawn to Faiza's hand. Watched as she picked up a new morsel of food, watched as her hand traveled beneath her robe. Oh God no! And then with horror as it was presented to her mouth. Tears flowed anew, but Sarah opened her mouth. Not only was she hungry, but she was terrified of the Arab woman. "Jew know why I'm doing this?" Faiza asked. Sarah knew she shouldn't utter the words, but the lack of sleep and everything else made it impossible to lie. They just spilled out. "You're brainwashing me." "No child," Faiza said. "Un-brainwashing jew." No, it couldn't be. "Jew don't believe me?" No, not really. Faiza took out another newspaper clipping. Sarah knew what was next. No, she couldn't be bound like that again. "Please Faiza. I'm begging you. Please don't," she sobbed. "Jew not need to be bound?" Faiza asked. "No-no-no." Sarah shook her head. Faiza positioned the American on her hands and knees, with her legs spread, her back arched, the newspaper article on the ground in front of her. "Jew move one centimeter, up jew go," Faiza warned. Sarah was dog tired. The floor hurt her hands and knees, but she didn't move an inch. The hardest thing was staying awake, but she managed. The article was about the treatment of the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. The sleep deprivation, the uncomfortable positions, they were both being used. Worse things had happened to prisoner's that were taken to other countries to be interrogated. It was terrible, but surely Faiza couldn't hold her responsible for that. She wasn't in charge, she was only following orders. When Faiza returned, she was pleasantly surprised to see the American still in place where she had left her. She had thought the girl needed one last lesson. Well, she was due for a few more lessons anyway. Faiza took off her robe and approached the kneeling girl. Important lessons. "Jew stay there," Faiza said, as she circled her prey. "Why jew want to kill us, American terrorist? Why jew hate us?" "I don't hate you." Oh God, the Arab woman was naked. Sarah kept her head down to avoid having to look at the woman's plump dark body. "Look at me!" Faiza ordered. Sarah obeyed instantly. Looking up from the below, it was impossible to avoid glancing at the woman's sex and breasts. "Then why do jew try to kill us?" Faiza demanded, grabbing the girl by the hair and pushing her head back. The thread of reality that Sarah clung to broke. It all spilled out. She blubbered it all for several minutes. "I don't hate you. I don't even want to be over here. Just wanted to pay for college. Get out of Akron. I was just - I was just following orders." Faiza dried the American's tears and comforted her as best she could. "So jew just following orders, jes?" Sarah nodded her head. Finally, the woman understood. "Jew just a slave to your master, Prezidant Bush?" Yes, yes, Sarah nodded her head. It was a little simplified, but that summed it up pretty well. "Jew poor thing. Jew just have a bad master to make jew do bad things. Jew just need a better master." Sarah kept nodding her head. She had finally made a breakthrough. Finally, gotten the woman to understand. Sarah was so caught up, she didn't even notice as a collar was fastened around her neck and leash attached. Faiza walked to a seat, pulling the American along behind her. She sat down and led the girl between her open legs, to the wet lips of her cunt. "Here slave, meet jour new master - jour new Master Bush." Sarah was crying again. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. She was supposed to be let go. And - and she wasn't a lesbian. She didn't like girls. Not like that. "Jew think I should let jew go instead?" "please. . ." Sarah was a whining pathetic sight. "Then jew go back to doing bad things for jour old master Bush. Maybe jew kill people. Maybe jew be killed," Faiza said. "No, this way better. Jew give pleasure. I make sure jew taken care of." Maybe Faiza was right. Sarah hated being in the army. She just wanted out. Just wanted to go home. She was tired of worrying constantly about being shot or killed. Tired of wondering if what she was doing was right. Sarah looked between Faiza's legs. God the woman was hairy. Master Bush was about as accurate description as possible. She shuddered at the thought of how it would taste . . . how it would smell. Sarah closed her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed the Arab woman on her sex and was rewarded with a pleasing sigh. It wasn't so bad. She kissed it again and then began to lick in earnest. "Jes, please jour new master Bush." ********** "Omar, I want to show you something," Faiza said, as she led her captive out by her leash. It was Sarah's first time out of the basement and the change was obvious. She was meek and submissive. Her body was well oiled and quite naked, and moved with a sensuousness that wasn't there before. Here wrists were tied together behind her back. "Woman, what have you done," Omar shouted. "You've brought death to our house." "Death could come here any day," Faiza said calmly. "The American won't tell. She's my slave - our slave," she hastily added. The truth was; the girl was hers. She would serve Omar, but Omar wasn't a very good lover - a thick cock with little imagination. Not like the lovers she had when she went to college in the states. But she had a lover now - a lover who would lick her for hours until she cried in ecstasy over and over again. "She can do things lover," Faiza said, caressing her husband's thick cock through his robe. Despite his protests it was already hard. "It would be a sin to lay with her." Omar spat at Sarah's feet. "I should beat you for this," he said to Faiza. Meanwhile Sarah knelt on the floor at Omar's feet, with her thighs spread wide and her eyes cast to the floor. She wished she understood what the two Arabs were saying. "She's only an infidel," Faiza said, freeing her husband's large prick from his robe. Faiza pointed to Sarah's ringed sex. "Besides, her womanhood is useless, so you don't have to worry about temptation to sin. But she has other ways she can please, like with her mouth and her ass. Just think of her as your hand. A tight moist hand for your pleasure." Faiza lay down next to her husband, held up her husband's cock, and guided her American slave to his balls. She could smell her husband from there, and she didn't envy the poor American. Sarah barely noticed. To her it was just a job. She did as she was told. With her hands locked behind her, she depended on Faiza's guiding hand to please her master. Faiza guided Sarah over Omar's thick cock, then up and down its shaft. In another life, it could have been a cock to give Sarah pleasure or even babies. But, here in the hot arid sands, it was an assignment - a mission from her new master. With her sex ringed shut and with specific orders never to touch herself, she depended on her mistress for sexual relief - for everything. When Omar came, she swallowed every drop. Afterwards, she cleaned him with her tongue - his first bath in days. "Okay, she can stay," Omar muttered. He watched with mild interest as Faiza pulled the American's head beneath her robe. Was it his imagination or was the white slut a little more eager to please his wife? No, matter, he would claim her tight American ass tonight. See how she likes that. He didn't know it, but Faiza had already claimed that honor for herself. That shapely well oiled American ass had been plundered by Faiza's hand time and time again. Poor Omar would have to settle for the spoils of war. The end ******* If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Spoils of War In the ancient days of Greece, before that great nation had become a single unified whole, the land was wracked with war upon war as succession of local lords and kings tried to claim the country as his own. Combat was brutal, the losers could expect no mercy, and to the victors went all the spoils... Perhaps no other warrior or leader of men at this time had enjoyed more of the spoils of war than King Themistocles, lord of all the Argos. It was his soldiers who had just smashed through yet another city that had refused to pay him homage, destroyed yet another walled citadel in which its citizens foolishly thought they would find protection, slaughtered and enslaved yet another unwilling population. If the people would not serve him willingly, Themistocles believed, than he would force them to serve his needs. But Themistocles was no effete silk and luxury king; he led from the front, fought side by side with his men, slaughtered as did they, and shared in all the travails of a soldier. He was a mighty warrior, endowed with great strength, endurance, and rage, and could wield spear and sword better than any other man in his army. By the end of any battle, he was as covered with sweat, grime, and blood as even the lowliest recruit, having hacked his way through all the same dangers his men did. Themistocles' men loved him not just because he brought them victory, but because he did it fighting right alongside of them. He was now walking briskly back to his tent, having just overseen the destruction and looting of the Temple of Apollo. The sun god, as arrogant as his priests and other servants, always had plenty of gold hidden away in his temples. Themistocles felt that after having destroyed a people who were supposedly under Apollo's protection he was then free to help himself to that gold, having earned it fairly through right of conquest. As he walked back to this tent thinking of how nice his wine would soon taste, Patroclus, his chief general, joined him. "My lord," Patroclus said, with the tone of a long loyal friend rather than a mindless servant. "Patroclus, the men fought well today, as always," Themistocles said with a slap on his friend's shoulder. "Make sure the men get an equal amount of the gold from the temple, as well as other goods from the city. Oh, and make sure there are enough women to go around so one woman is not shared by more than three men." "Yes, my lord, I will do so. And what of you, sir? Have you not taken any prizes?" Themistocles stopped just within the opening of his tent, and turned back to look at the smoldering city. "Prize? This is my prize," he said, sweeping his arm towards the city. "All of this is mine. The men can have some measure of what is already mine, my friend." "Well, sire, the men wanted you to have something," Patroclus said as they now stepped into the dark tent. "Oh?" Themistocles said. "And what was that?" Patroclus gestured towards the center of the tent. Themistocles turned; as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out a figure tied to the center support of his tent. He took a step forward to view his prize better; the figure suddenly flinched, and in so doing revealed the face of a beautiful woman, with long, black hair flowing down over her shoulders. Themistocles looked at Patroclus, and smiled. "The men found her hiding in the temple," Patroclus said. "They thought you would find her...entertaining." The king's smile grew until it looked like a silent snarl. He drank some wine deeply, his gaze now fixed hungrily on the woman before him. "Please tell the men that they were right," he said to Patroclus, "and that their king loves them and deeply appreciates their thoughtfulness." Patroclus saluted and quickly left the tent. Themistocles sipped his wine, and then stripped out of his blood-soaked linen armor. He washed the filth of battle off his face and his muscular, chiseled upper body, then slowly walking around the woman to get a good look at her. She was young, most likely not older than 19 years old, and had a lovely face that was now half-hidden behind the lockets of curly hair hanging in front of it. She was dirty, smeared with soot and grime, but the exquisite beauty of her face shone through all that nonetheless. The king was certain that earlier in the day her hair had been well-coifed and tightly bound up, but after the exertions of her day it was now a tangled mass, some hanging in her face, some trailing behind. As lovely as she was, Themistocles rather thought he preferred to see his vanquished looking so very defeated. Her equally exquisite body was only partially hidden by her now-ripped, sheer white gown she wore. Themistocles could clearly see her left breast and her entire right hip and leg, and these parts of her body were smooth and well built. But what actually intrigued him the most was the robe itself, because this indicated she was a servant of the god Apollo, and was therefore a virgin. Themosticles licked his lips like a hungry beast as he circled his prize, much like a tiger just before he pounces on his prey. The king had enjoyed many such prizes on his conquests. He had taken hundreds of women as his personal slaves, even selected a few to be legal concubines, but this...this woman was going to be something special. Not only was it rare to find a virgin of this age, but he felt a special thrill race through his body at the thought of defiling a servant of Apollo. The god had not protected his people when Themistocles' army arrived at their city, nor had he protected his temple from being sacked, nor had he prevented her being captured, nor would he now intervene as Themistocles took the god's servant and made her do his wicked will. Themistocles paid little notice of the gods and took what -- and whom -- he wanted when he wanted. Having circled the woman twice now as he savored his wine and being thoroughly convinced that she may be the most altogether delicious looking female he had even seen, Themistocles said, "Do you know who I am?" The woman merely looked at the king with a mixture of fear, anger, and hatred in her eyes. Themistocles slapped her hard across the face. "Don't ever deny me something when asked for, slave," he said calmly, a man accustomed to being in complete control, "and always answer me when I speak. Now, do you know who I am?" "Yes," the woman said softly, the look of angry hatred replaced with fearful despair. "You are King Themistocles, lord of Argos." "And conqueror of your people, it would appear. Now...do you have a name?" "Cassandra." "Ah, Cassandra. One of the temple virgins, I see." Cassandra nodded her drooping head, as she began to cry softly. "Yes...I serve the Eternal Flame of Apollo." "Yes...of course you did," Themistocles said dismissively. He walked up to Cassandra and roughly ripped the remains of her sheer temple gown down the middle, exposing the rest of her perfect body to the king. This elicited an immediate response from Cassandra as she began to thrash and scream, attempting to get away or strike Themistocles. "NO! NO! I am a servant of the lord Apollo! I have dedicated my body to him! You must not touch me!!" Themistocles was hoping for just such a response and delighted in her screams, and felt his already engorged cock now become rock hard as she struggled and attempted to get free. He slapped her again, far harder than the first time, which was more than enough to knock the sense out of Cassandra for a moment. The king held her face tightly and turned her towards him, then said, "You now only serve me, Cassandra. You now serve my needs, and I need your body." "But the god will strike you dead for defiling one of his servants!!" Themistocles grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. "I very much doubt that, little girl. I have destroyed the city under his protection, I have destroyed his temple and killed his priests. Still the god does nothing to me. The gods fear me. Why, then, should they care what I do to one little temple virgin?" Cassandra looked at him in shocked outrage, in part because of his blasphemous words, but also in part because she feared he was right. Apollo had not shot arrows of plague into the invading army as the priests said he would, nor had he stricken any of the soldiers who had looted the temple -- how much less would he do for one of his virgins? Cassandra looked at Themistocles' well muscled, powerful body, then his large and very hard cock, and knew she was totally on her own. The king slashed at the rough ropes that had bound her body to the center post with his dagger but not those that restrained Cassandra's hands behind her. Themistocles pulled her to him roughly, kissing her on the mouth fully yet harshly, crudely pushing his tongue deep inside her mouth. Despite her best efforts to pull away or to make him stop the king continued to kiss Cassandra, forcing his way into her mouth. The king clutched her hair tightly behind her head, making Cassandra his to do with as he wished. He held Cassandra there tightly to him for some time, kissing her brutally yet passionately, until the king grew tired of this and wanted more. Throwing her on the thick pile of animal skins and furs that acted as his campaigning bed, Themistocles rolled Cassandra over until she lay on her belly then roughly pulled her ass up until she lay on all fours. With her hands still tied behind her back Cassandra had no way to support herself; her face was pushed into the furs and her back arched cruelly so Themistocles could easily access her ass. The king grabbed her once coifed hair and pulled back hard, arching her back even further as he placed the tip of his cock just against the lips of her pussy. "Now," Themistocles said, pushing slightly, "let's see what the god has been keeping all to himself, shall we?" Pulling her head back even as he pushed his hips forward, Themistocles tried in vain to slide his cock into Cassandra's unopened pussy. The king could not recall the last time he fucked a girl with such a tight pussy and was surprised to meet such resistance. Cassandra gritted her teeth, trying hard not to utter a sound and so not to give Themistocles yet another victory. "Mmm...," he now nearly growled at her, pleased by the game her pussy was making of this, "now if only your countrymen had given me such resistance perhaps you would still have a country." Themistocles pulled Cassandra back toward him again as he pushed in with more sustained force this time and now he felt her hymen give way slowly, finally allowing him into her pussy. Despite her attempt to remain quiet Cassandra could not restrain herself from crying out as the king's thick cock penetrated her pussy, and she screamed into the furs. The pain was far more than she ever thought it would be, and although she had heard her sisters talk about the intense pleasures of sex, Cassandra did not understand how any woman could find this enjoyable. Themistocles eased his way in slowly, not because of any desire to be gentle to Cassandra but rather because he feared hurting his cock if he tried to fuck such a tight pussy too quickly. He pushed the length of his cock into Cassandra's pussy slowly and deeply, reaching the farthest depth of her cunt; he let out a long, soft moan as he did so, the tight pressure of her now-moist pussy walls clamping tightly around his cock. The king had never had a pussy so pristine, so fresh, so tight, and he feared he might pass out from the intense pleasure of feeling it wrap so tightly around his cock. Once the king had hit bottom he paused for a long while, allowing Cassandra's pussy to stretch slightly and to moisten further, as well as to drink in the intense sensation of sliding into a pussy so tight. He then slowly eased his cock back out, then again slowly inserted it all the way in. Cassandra continued to grit her teeth sharply, trying to keep in the shrieks of pain she was feeling; the pain remained intense, but it was at least diminishing somewhat now as her pussy stretched to accommodate the king's cock. "Oh, my yes, little virgin," the king said lustfully. "I can see why Apollo would want to keep this all for himself." Themistocles slid his cock deeply into Cassandra's pussy, pulling her ass towards him to get in as deeply as possible, but now began to increase the rate at which he fucked her. Having let go of her hair the king grabbed her still-bound hands and yanked on them like the reins on a horse, pulling her towards him and delighting in the complete control he had over her. Themistocles made no pretense of caring whether Cassandra enjoyed herself or not -- in fact, he rather hoped she hated this, enjoying the complete victory he achieved over her people through her pain -- and simply slammed into her pussy like a piston. Having opened up her pussy and wetting her, Themistocles was now able easily to fuck her as hard as he wanted, and the king fucked like he pursued war: violently, intensely, and aggressively. Themistocles slammed his cock into her as fast as possible until he quickly came with a loud, animal-like roar that trailed off into a low guttural growl as he filled her pussy with stream after stream of his hot cum. After the king had finished cumming, he finally released her hips and allowed her to slump forward on the furs as he lay down next to her, panting loudly. The pair lay there together for several minutes, Themistocles catching his breath and Cassandra sobbing softly. The pain had diminished now, replaced with a warm, wet feeling. She was, however, mortified that her oath to Apollo had been broken. She had dedicated her life to serving the god, but now that she had been defiled there was no way she could perform her temple duties any further. As she lay there, grieving the loss of her religious function, the only solace Cassandra could claim was that her torment was at least now over. Or so she thought. The king had gotten up and put on a loose, light robe, then sat down to drink some wine. He sat there looking at her, beautiful in her nakedness. He found her even more beautiful given the look of complete defeat in her crumpled form, a thin trickle of his cum oozing out of her pussy. Themistocles drank his wine and popped a few nuts and dates into his mouth as he looked over her lovely, crushed form, and could already feel himself getting aroused again. The king viewed himself first and foremost as a soldier. He may be the highest ranking soldier, and he may en joy certain luxuries the other soldiers didn't, but he was a soldier first. One of the fundamental norms of being a good soldier is that one shares with his comrades freely of whatever he has. Whether weapons, armor, food, or drink, Themistocles believed soldiers shared what they had with one another. So why should he selfishly keep Cassandra all to himself? Having been first, why not now share her with his men as he would any other prize? Themistocles called for his runner and instructed him to summon his generals. As the powerful men arrived, Cassandra thought nothing of it, assuming they were going to have a council of war, or that the king was merely going to show her off like a prize steed. She did not realize what was about to happen until the king began to speak. "So, gentlemen," he said to the half-dozen generals. "Who would like to enjoy a taste of my latest whore? You may all enjoy yourselves with her as many times as you'd like, for as long as you'd like." The generals stood dumfounded for a moment, surprised by the king's generosity despite his penchant for sharing with this army. Patroclus was finally the first one to move, quickly stripping down to nothing, followed by the other generals. Cassandra felt almost paralyzed by fear when she heard Themistocles so callously offer up her sex to his generals, lying on the bed of skins like a terrified animal trying to remain hidden by remaining perfectly still. The magnitude of what was about to happen to her didn't become reality until she felt one general with a steely-strong hand twist her hair and yank her head to suck his cock while another lifted her ass, fucking her from behind as the king had. She was now being simultaneously fucked by one general while another fucked her mouth as the remaining generals rubbed her body, pinched, pulled, and slapped whatever parts of her they could. Though a virgin, Cassandra had sucked men's cock before, but she had never been so completely used before. The general fucking her from behind was, like his king, fucking her with animalistic intensity, slamming his cock into her with all his force. This pushed her harshly into the general gagging her with his cock even as he, in turn, forced his cock further down her throat. She made a choking sound with every thrust as his cock literally was forced into her throat. Cassandra feared that she body would simply burst from the pressure of having two large cocks forced into her at the same time in such a rough fashion, or that her back would snap from the pounding her was getting. She felt the general making her suck his cock pull her hair more and more tightly as her face fucked her with more force, and could actually feel his already hard cock grow even harder and larger in her mouth. He then let loose a thick stream of cum into her mouth; Cassandra didn't want to swallow any of these men's cum, so she tried to spit it out. The cock being forced into her mouth at the same time made that difficult, so the cum instead simply oozed down her chin and slid slowly down her breasts, eliciting quite an enthusiastic response from the remaining generals. At about that same time the man taking her from behind also came, again filling her cunt with a large load of hot thick cum. As soon as these two generals finished another two jumped on her and began fucking her as well, the only difference being that the general pounding her pussy rolled her over on her back. He had cut the ropes still restraining her hands together and ordered her to stroke the cocks of the last two generals who had not yet had a chance to fuck her. Cassandra now lay there in the king's tent, being fucked by one man as another fucker her face while she simultaneously stroked the cocks of two other men. The general face fucking her pulled out his cock just at the moment of orgasm and splattered his hot cum all over her lovely face, while the general between her legs also pulled out and shot his equally large load all over her tits. The final two generals pounced on her at once, nearly rabid from having to wait while they watched their higher-ranking comrades have her first and also from being stroked by Cassandra. Neither took long to cum; the general fucking her face came in her mouth and Cassandra, now no longer caring, swallowed every drop of the man's cum. The general fucking her pussy thought that looked like fun and finished by cumming in her mouth as well, making her swallow his load also. The next several hours became a blur to Cassandra. Man after man, including the king, fucked her and forced her to suck his cock. She was never taken by less than two men at a time; the generals had also opened up her ass by now in an equally brutal manner as her pussy had been, so she very often satisfied the needs of three lust-filled men at once. Hour after hour passed in the king's tent, with scarcely a full minute going by without a cock being rammed into her mouth, cunt, or asshole. Cassandra had been filled several times over with copious amounts of cum, so much so that it oozed now in a constant stream out of both her ass and her pussy, pooling into a small puddle where she lay. She had by this point swallowed more cum than she had even thought possible. It amazed Cassandra that when the day had started she was a temple virgin; by day's end she was the army's whore. Spoils of War But something had proven to be far more amazing to her, something that changed within her at some point in that tent during those hours: She began to enjoy what was happening to her. Cassandra found that she enjoyed being used by these half-dozen men for their sexual satisfaction, enjoyed being turned into nothing but a whore to be played with. She enjoyed the way her hair was grabbed and pulled, the way her nipples were yanked, the feel of the men kissing her roughly. Cassandra not merely wanted or enjoyed being taken so forcefully, she needed it. And while she might not have understood how a woman could enjoy sex that first time with the king, she was now enjoying the physical sensation of what was happening far more than the generals. She soon began to suck on the cock being slipped her mouth lustily, happily stroking on it once her hands were finally released and greedily swallowing every drop of cum offered to her. She began to buck backwards into whoever was fucking her, trying to get the cock into her as deeply as she could. And the generals all laughed heartily the first time Cassandra came, her moans and delighted shrieks entertaining them and surprising her. After her first orgasm, of course, Cassandra then wanted more and more. Although Themistocles had at first enjoyed the thought of her hating this treatment, he now enjoyed watching her become such a content little cum slut, reveling in her unabashed wantonness. He had a thought about how to reward his men while at the same time allowing her to grow into her new role. "Patroclus," he said, after the general had unloaded his balls onto Cassandra the fifth time that evening. "Which of the generals' men would you say fought the most valiantly today?" The king's chief general thought for a moment, and then said, "It would have to be the men of Andromache. It was his units that stormed the walls and finally created a breakthrough for the rest of the army to follow." The king then turned to his general and said, "Then Andromache, I want you to pick the unit you feel fought the best and bring them my slave here to use as they see fit -- they may enjoy her as you have, but they may not hurt her in any way. She is still the king's property, after all." Andromache grabbed Cassandra and quickly marched her out to the unit he had in mind, she very happily thinking about all the many cocks she would soon be enjoying. When she arrived at the unit's encampment she was disappointed to see that there were only around 20 men remaining after the battle, but they all looked at her utterly naked and firm body lustfully. Andromache stated to the men that this woman was the king's gift to them for the night to honor their great sacrifice, and that they may enjoy her in any way they wanted short of harming her. He then shoved her into the middle of the group of soldiers, whom took her almost immediately. Cassandra's body was almost overwhelmed by sheer pleasure and sensory delights that assailed her that night. Every man in that unit fucked her several times, each one enjoying her mouth, pussy, and ass at least twice. She delighted in the sense of having hard cock after hard cock in her, plunging deep inside of her again and again and again. She enjoyed seeing all the different cocks, some long, some thick, some dark, but all so very beautiful to her. Cassandra loved the orgasms that wracked her small body, her clit quickly becoming a tight mass of constantly tingling nerves. She loved the taste of the cocks after they had been in her, so that she could taste her own flavors mixed with the men's cum. She loved the feeling of the hot cum splashing all over her body and the thick, musky odor of it now cloying to her. She was, quite simply, in sexual bliss. When Andromache returned the following morning to bring her back to the king, he found his men exhausted and Cassandra looking equally spent, yet still searching for more cock. When she saw him, Cassandra immediately fell to her knees and began sucking his cock. Andromache happily let her finish, filling her mouth with his hot cum, before marching her back to the king's tent. There she found him already awake and eating, lounging on his chair. "So, my little slave," he said, offering her some food. "Did you enjoy your evening?" She ate some of the king's food, only now realizing how exhausted she was. "Yes, my lord, I did." "Good," he said, laughing. "And as I understand it, the men enjoyed you as well. I must say, having you around certainly does help the morale of my men...me as well." Cassandra now fell to the king's feet, and said. "Then please, my lord, keep me as yours. I am ruined now as a servant of the gods, but I don't care about that. I only want to serve you and do as you ask. When a man touches me, I...I...I feel..." "Yes?" "I feel alive in a way I never have before, my king. I feel happy, and contented, and as if I am fulfilling a purpose that only I can. Please, my lord...please keep me and allow me to service your every need..." as Cassandra said this she had slowly moved her hand up the king's leg and started gently stroking his balls, then released his quickly hardening cock. She kissed and gently licked the tip of his cock, looking into his eyes as she did so, and whispered, "Please, my lord?" "Well...," Themistocles said, sliding down slightly so she could gain deeper access to his cock, "I'm sure there are certain positions you could fill, needs you could fulfill, in my army..." Spoils of War [Author's Note: Another short story. Please read and review. Once I can figure out how to post multi-chapter stories, I'll post some of my lengthier work.] The grim fate of my people was sealed the moment our battle began, and now I stand alone in the after-shock of the crippling attack by the roving band of Elvaran warriors. The Elvaran are a warrior-race: the tallest of any human I've yet seen, a head taller than a high-standing man, and they are built with such natural musculature as is unknown to any other. They train with ferocity, but even were they not to do so, their strength would go unparalleled. And they are all of them women: clad in boots that extend to their knees and scanty fur garments covering their breasts and more sensitive regions below. My people stood no chance against this raiding party, but we fought to the last man: me. I was born, and still am a man not fit for battle. I have some strength, yes, but nary enough to cleave a skull with a single blow or toil for hours in heavy armor, dealing and receiving blows like hammer-falls. Thus, my very presence on the battlefield stands as a testament to the desperation of my people, for I am no warrior but a singer and a scribe, a teller of tales. This year, most fateful of all my years, is the eighteenth of my life, and now I fear that life may end as I stand, unarmored and with my only weapon, a meager dagger, knocked from my hand. Sweat glistens on my brow, my short black hair is likewise damp with perspiration. I wear simple cloth garb, that affords little protection. Fortunately, my enemy knew of my weakness and hitherto spared me. Now, the whole Elvaran raiding party, not down a single woman, gazes upon me as a lone woman, surely my fated slayer, strides forward. "Last of your people," she says, "you shed not a drop of our blood, and you stand now defenseless." "And I will die," I answer, my voice quavering, "where my brothers have died this day." "You will live." is her response. Mine is shocked silence. "You are soft," she says, "pretty, undamaged by war. A pleasure-slave is surely your life's only purpose, and as such we shall take you." My knowledge of the Elvaran treatment of captured men, learned of by whispered word of mouth, compels me to turn and flee. The thought has scarcely translated to action before I feel a powerful arm snake around my midsection, lifting me bodily and casting me over a broad shoulder. This woman, now my captress, is carrying me from the battlefield as one might carry a sack of flower. I kick at first, but she retorts with a firm slap to my backside, which may seem a spanking to her people, but which sends an aching shock up from the base of my spine. From then on I am still, for never was I meant to take such pain. The woman carries me back to the waiting ranks of her sisters, and already they have a rope prepared to bind me. My hands and feet are roughly tied such that I cannot move a single inch. But most humiliating of all, my clothes are cut away by the keen edge of an Elvaran dagger, leaving my body naked under their scrutinizing gaze. I begin to wonder how they expect me to walk as their captive, when one of the women lifts me again and casts me over her shoulder. Apparently I am to be passed from one to the other, carried as such for the duration of our day's southwestward march back to a main Elvaran outpost along the shoreline. The outpost is two days walk from here, or so says one of the women to another as they march along the snow-flecked ground, and we will make camp at sunset. As I am carried away, I glance over the land that I leave behind. My village lies in smoldering ruin, a burning wreckage set incongruously amongst the sweeping winter-scape of the region. Thick trees climb the hillsides, their branches heavy with snow and sweet-scented needles. The sun is dazzling as it shines upon the snow, and reflects from the bodies of those who fought in armor to defend us from Elvaran expansion. I now leave behind my homeland, all that I know and hold dear, helpless. Each step of my current handler makes my body shake slightly as her shoulder presses into my abdomen, but each step does much more. For with every footfall, my world grows smaller and smaller in the distance, fading upon the horizon until all I can see is the black smoke from the burning buildings, etched against the cloudless sky. But in time even that fades into only a memory. The battle happened so fast that it all still seems a blur to me, as I'm taken away from the site of the slaughter. A hunting party from my village returned in the early morning, having been gone for only a short span of time, and their return was frantic. They had seen Elvaran warriors marching in our direction, armed with their traditional broadswords, hammers, and axes. Our village came to arms, every able-bodied man sent out to fight the invaders. But the slaughter was swift and now my doom was certain. Would death have been a greater mercy than what I may endure? The sun, having reached its zenith, climbed down from the high dome of the sky, and still we keep our marching pace. When my handler becomes tired, which is strikingly infrequent, I am uncomfortably shifted onto the shoulder of another warrior woman, and the march continues without breaking our speed. But in time, the sun falls below the rim of the horizon, the wind whipping up light flurries of snow, and it becomes clear that a camp would be very beneficial for the night. Yet, though they are my captors, I am astonished with the speed of the Elvaran as they set up their camp. Women carrying large bundles of long poles arrange them, hammering them into the ground in careful positions, such that they lean at angles and meet at points. These bundles of poles were wrapped in furs, which are then spread out over the poles and hammered into the ground, each having a slit cut in them to serve as a means of entry. These tents are set in a wide circle within a clearing, in the middle of which the Elvaran heap wood for a fire. Whilst the firewood is being arranged, a few of the women go into the tents to sweep the ground within clear of leaves, snow, and debris. When this is done, I am dragged into one of these temporary shelters and thrown to the floor, left bound and alone therein. The temperature inside the tent is surprisingly comfortable, the thick fur of the walls keeping the chill wind away from my naked flesh. From outside, I hear the sound of a fire crackling to life and coming to a steady roar. Not long after that, I smell the scent of roasting meat, and hear the sound of flasks popping open. The Elvaran are drinking of their much-beloved honey wine and cooking a meat of some sort to sate their hunger. The honey wine, or mead, is strong and will soon have them roaring and singing like any other warrior troop. Footsteps crunching on the new-fallen snow cause me to tense up, bracing myself for some sort of attack. Perhaps they have decided to execute me after all, perhaps in a way that will grant them some sort of sick entertainment. My heart races, my palms sweat and my breath comes in short gasps as the tent-flap opens and an Elvaran stoops into the tent. Yet, she is not holding a weapon, but a hunk of meat and a flask of water. "I'll free your hands so you may eat," she says firmly, "but if you try and escape or attack us, the punishment will be swift and painful." "You're feeding me?" I ask in astonishment. "Why would we not?" she replies. "If we are to keep you, you must stay fed and healthy, else you will die. Now eat." With little effort, she pulls free the rope restricting my wrists. I spend a moment massaging the tender skin where the rope dug into it during the day's journey, before taking the meat and flask. I'd not thought of how hungry I was until now that I have food in my grasp. The meat is thick, cooked all the way through, and rich with its natural juices. The water, taken from a stream nearby, is cold but welcome as it courses over my lips and down my throat. I drink it slowly, savoring every sip until the flask is empty. The meat is, by this point, long gone. My current over-seer takes up the rope again and binds my wrists behind my back, easing me down onto the earthen floor of the tent and standing over me. "The women will be drinking tonight." she says. "In fact, they've already begun, and they will want you." "Will they?" I answered flatly, feigning a lack of emotion. "Do not think that the life of an Elvaran pleasure-slave is a paradise." she warns. "Many do not survive our advances, even less so when the joy of mead is upon us. If you last throughout the night, fate alone will have spared you." "Why are you telling me this?" I stammer, my heartbeat quickening its pace. "Don't resist us tonight," she continues, "lay still and do as you are told and you should not be hurt much. Rest now, while you can." With that warning, she exits the tent, taking the flask with her and leaving me in relative silence. I try to heed her words, to rest, but many things fill my mind. The gravity of my situation, as a captive, presses in upon me, like a weight on my chest making it hard to focus or draw a calming breath. Outside the tent, I hear the fire crackling, the women drinking and singing songs and talking amongst themselves in voices raised by the fog of mead. I cannot rest, how could I be expected to do so. What torment will be leveled upon me with such severity that I may not survive this very night?! The answer to that question is not long in coming. Again, booted footsteps signal an approaching Elvaran, who slips into the tent via its flap. She is, like the others, tall and strong, clad only in fur covering her most sensitive regions, and boots that extend up to her knees. By her movement and the look in her blue eyes, I can see that the mead has done its work upon her. Her tongue moves across her lips as she gazes down at me. "You're soft," she purrs, hooking her thumbs into her lower garment and sliding it down, "your body is smooth and pale, you are like a little doll, a plaything." "I uh... I'm not a..." I dumbly stutter as she steps out of her lower garment, still clad in her boots and breast-covering. "I lead this war-band," she explains, kneeling astride my hips, "so I shall have you first, little boy." I become, at this point, increasingly aware of my surroundings. The earthen floor under my back is hard, smooth enough, but there are the occasional pebbles that dig slightly into my bare back. The weight of the woman upon me is considerable, as I am of a slender frame and she is of a broad, muscular build. Her thighs are smooth on either side of me, her skin cool and her muscles solid and unyielding as stone. I feel the heat emanating from between her thighs, and the lust that such warmth implies is visible to me in the fiery gaze she fixes upon me. "You shall know tonight the lust of Alma the Sword-Cleaver." she pants in exuberance, painfully seizing my manhood with her powerful hand and guiding it into her depths. It is then, in that moment, as if a blaze has been lit within her. She comes alive with ravenous lust and falls upon me, her lips pressing against mine, her arms wrapping around me so that her hands might rake my back with her sharp nails. Pulling me against her, she locks her legs under me, crushing me between her thighs as she presses down upon me. She covers my face and chest in kisses, biting my skin with each caress of her lips. I shudder and moan, crying out sharply as I am clawed, bitten, and ravaged. Her inner walls squeeze tight around the length of my shaft as she gyrates upon me, pumping my manhood in and out of her depths. "You're hurting me!" I stammer as her nails dig into my back. "Quiet, whore!" she barks, slapping me twice across the face and silencing my protests. Panting wildly, throwing her head back and crying out, Alma shuts her eyes and comes to a shuddering climax, falling upon me and burying my face in her heaving bosom. I gasp for air, unable to breathe as she smothers me against her breasts. My struggling is like that of a tiny insect caught in a whirlpool, I cannot move and am at the mercy of her overwhelming passion. Her thighs threaten to crush the life out of me even as her breasts block my airways. My vision swims, my body goes limp, I no longer feel the sting of her scratches and bites, for I cannot feel anything but adrenaline and fear. Then, when all is going black, Alma rises from me, standing over me, unclear in my hazy vision. The ringing in my ears subsides as she walks from the tent, having first stepped back into and pulled up her lower garment. I am in silence again, drenched in the moisture of her kisses and the nectar of her climax. My hips are sore from the weight that bore down upon them, my skin raw from the friction between us, and my torso stinging from the numerous lacerations with which I was left. I lay still, staring out through the tent-flap, which hangs slightly open in Alma's wake. Outside, under the darkened sky, I see the curvaceous Elvaran figures moving in the fire light. Many have cast off their boots, some have stripped off their garb altogether, and they are carrying on like any band of raiders. They drink and sing songs, some sit in discussion, some are wrestling as a show of strength and skill. A silence falls over them though when their leader strides back into the firelight, looking content and satisfied. I know, without hearing any words spoken, what thoughts now pass between them. I have been had by this party's leader, and I am now open, free for the taking. One after the other, the women rise and come into my tent, undressing as they come and redressing as they return to the light and warmth of the fire. None is more gentle than Alma, and my screams fill the night air as they each in turn have their way with me. I become intimately familiar with their bodies as they crush down upon me, the weight of their powerful muscles devastating my slight form. I cannot move, I cannot protest without being punched or slapped, and my breath comes in ragged gasps as they press down on me in the throes of lust. Again and again as the night goes on, I am ravaged by the warrior women. Their orgasmic wailing mingles with my cries of agony. When my manhood can no longer come erect, a rope is tied around its base to force it to a standing position. Thus, the ravishing persists well beyond what I might have ordinarily been able to stand. Until at last, each woman has had her satisfaction, many having taken more than one turn upon me. They rode my hips painfully, though some of them opted to move astride my head, crushing my skull between their thighs and demanding that I use my tongue to please them, working them to a climax by probing and flicking my tongue within their warm depths, then drinking in their sweet, climactic juices. When at last they settle down for the night, I am left alone, drenched in the nectar of Elvaran lust. My flesh is scored with scratches and bites, many of which will surely scar. My hips are raw from friction burn, my bones aching and weak. I am alone in silence, in miserable silence as the Elvaran slumber in satisfaction. I make up my mind in that stillness of night that I shall escape from this hellish place, before I am returned to their outpost proper and forced into much worse subjugation. Working carefully, I tuck my legs up to my chest and slide my wrists under my feet so that my bound hands are now in front of me. Raising the rope to my teeth, I begin to tear at it with the ferocity born of terror, like an animal backed into a corner and fighting for its life. The rope falls away after twenty minutes of frantic ripping, which is fortunate since my jaw is tired from this desperate work. With my hands free, I set to work untying my ankles. This takes much less time, with the use of my hands speeding along the process. And just like that, I am free. Sore, shameful, and naked, but free. Rising, I take a few cautious steps, my legs trembling with disuse. I stagger from the tent, looking about frantically, like a rabbit running from one source of cover to another, ever watchful for a bird of prey. The fire has died down, leaving only smoldering embers that, along with the light of the full moon, illuminate the clearing. The tents loom in shadow, like ominous beasts waiting to spring upon me. A few of the Elvaran have fallen asleep, knocked cold by the mead, lying on their backs in the snow. I move on the balls of my feet, trying to make as little noise as possible, padding across the snow-strewn earth. My eyes scan the ground in front of me, choosing every step for me, avoiding sharp rocks and branches that might crack and make a waking noise. I move with care, but quickly, eager to put the campsite behind me, in favor of whatever else I may find. So carefully I watch the land ahead of me that I do not sense the presence behind me, until it is far too late. I hear a loud ululation: a warbling, high-pitched war-cry that chills me to the bone. I should have run, charging into the woods and losing myself in the darkness. But instead, I turn toward the war-cry, throwing my hands up in fear. Just in time to see Alma charging at me, still screeching her ancestral battle scream. With a flying leap, she is upon me. I catch her right knee in my groin and she drives me to my back, her powerful right leg pressing into my testicles. I think I'm going to be sick from the force of the crushing to my most sensitive extremities, and the beating that Alma then delivers only exacerbates the sheer discomfort. She slaps my face with her palm, causing my head to tilt to one side, only to be struck by the back of her same hand as it returns along its path. Again and again she slaps me, and then the slaps turn to punches. Light at first, torturously painful, but too light to knock me out. It is the mercy of a blow to the temple that at last grants me a reprieve from my agony. Spoils of War The view was like a window into Hell. Once, a long time ago, maybe three months or so, this had been a pleasant provincial town where people lived quiet, unremarkable lives. Now it was wreck, populated only by desperate ghosts and people like me. The front of the apartment building opposite had been ripped away and the rooms, still somehow remarkably intact, were open to view, like the dolls house of a particularly destructive child. The top floor was open to the elements, like almost every other building in sight. Some had great holes in them where the artillery shells had struck, others were blackened by the smoke from the fires that had burned for days and the rest were pockmarked by small arms fire. There was probably not a window intact within two miles. Hell. Ours had always been a fragile country, created by uncaring conquerors in the previous century. They had drawn lines on maps to suit their own convenience without a thought for the ethnic and religious differences that had divided us for centuries or the simmering blood feuds they had created. So we were bundled together, sharing nothing but our mutual hatred and suspicion. It had all boiled over a couple of years ago when the North tried to break away, taking much of our mineral wealth with them, and join up with their so-called Brothers across the border. It had been coming for decades but their politicians made two crucial miscalculations: the armed forces were controlled by the South and their Brothers were not willing to go to war for them. The rebels had managed to overrun a few barracks, killing the soldiers who would not join them and stealing the guns. But the pilots on the airbases had simply flown south in their priceless fighters. The handful of planes that had to be abandoned on the ground were quickly destroyed in air strikes and the few they managed to get into hardened hangars were useless. You can teach a man to fire an AK47 in a couple of hours, training people to fly or even maintain a jet fighter takes a bit longer. So, as the outside world fruitlessly called for peace and the UN stood by impotently wringing its hands, the carnage had begun. We had gone from city to city and town to town wiping out the rebels. The civilian population became refuges heading northwards. Only ruined shells were left. It was scorched earth policy, pure and simple. Well simple if not pure. Yet even here, despite our victory we did not quite have control. There were a few small militia units clinging on and harrying our patrols. So I was still here. The General called us his 'Predators'. Angels of Death whose job was to hole up among the wrecked buildings and pick off the militias at long range, killing their commanders when we could and randomly killing their men to sap morale and drive them out. Most of the Predators worked in groups of four but I preferred to be alone. I'd been a hunter all my life and I knew all about lying up and keeping quiet and unseen. It was a bit riskier because I couldn't watch all sides at once and had to keep moving around to check all the approaches and to make sue my escape route was still clear. But it also meant there was no one chattering or moving about to give away our position. Some of our so-called 'troops' lacked discipline. Too many of them were 'irregulars', little more than gangsters, out for what they could loot or who they could rape. I preferred to be alone. It felt safer. I had my own rules and they had kept me alive so fire. I only ever fired one shot. Take them by surprise and give them no clues as to my position by firing again once they were alert. Sometimes I got lucky and took out a commander. Other times I would lie there, looking through my telescopic sights and play God, the cross-hairs moving from face to face as I decided who should live and who should die. They never knew how close they had come to death, how their faraway wives had nearly been widowed. I had been in this attic for two days and had seen nothing. Perhaps they had finally given up and gone away. But I could not relax yet. I had just checked my exit route again and was planning to move out at dusk, timing my departure for when the gathering darkness would hide me but still leave enough light for me to find my way back to our own base. It was as I put the field glasses to my eyes that I spotted the movement. It was at the end of the street, a Man and a Boy emerging from one house and diving into the next. As they disappeared I quartered the other buildings looking for snipers who might be using them as a decoy. I could see nothing. I repeated the exercise every time the pair moved to a new house and after an hour I decided they were alone, probably scavenging for food in the abandoned houses. At this rate they would reach the house I was in before I was ready to leave. I packed my little rucksack and watched them. Something wasn't right. Something about the body language between them. I checked the surrounding windows again. Still nothing. As they got nearer I checked them again and realised what it was that was worrying me. And smiled. As they entered the house next door I made a final check of my exit and the surrounding buildings before I hid my rifle under some old carpet, took my pistol from its holster and settled behind the door. I heard them come into the house and listened as they slowly made their way from floor to floor, room by room. Finally there were heavy steps outside and the Man stepped into the room. I let him walk in and as he turned he saw me. He opened his mouth to shout but I flicked the gun barrel up to his face and the words died in his throat. I put my finger to my lips to order him to stay quiet and flicked the pistol to the side to tell him to move out of sight. He looked like he might call out but them thought better of it. The lighter steps of the Boy climbed the stairs. I let him walk into the room before I pushed the door closed behind him. In the same instant he saw the Man, hands raised and spun round, a look of terror on his face. While they were still scared I ordered them to face the wall and lean in so I could search them. This was the moment of danger, having to go close in, so I ordered them to shuffle their feet back until I was satisfied they were fully off balance. I stepped swiftly to the Man first and jabbed the barrel of the pistol into his neck before I began patting him down thoroughly. There was no gun, just a knife, which I took. He did not seem to be militia. I ordered him to his hands and knees before I moved to the Boy. Same routine, quick step in, gun to his neck and began patting him down. Slowly as the Man watched I moved my hands across the Boy's chest and squeezed the soft breasts. My suspicion about the body language had been right. You can crop a woman's hair to look like a boy but the movement takes a lot more skill. She'd always moved like a woman. I took my time feeling her up, playing with her breasts before moving down to her crotch, which I search thoroughly as the hate burned in the Man's eyes. Once I'd had enough I ordered her onto her hands and knees beside the Man. Now everything was under control. I moved round behind them and contemplated my next move before ordering them to put their heads on the floor, arms straight out in front of them. Once they were totally helpless the target was unmissable I swung my boot hard and kicked the Man in the balls. The impact lifted him off the floor and he collapsed moaning and clutching his groin. The Woman squealed but instantly shut up as I turned the pistol towards her. With the Man disabled I quickly yanked his arms behind him and put on the handcuffs. I'd taken them from a local policeman, or at least I'd taken them from his body and they had often come in handy. As the Man lay groaning I took out my hunting knife and cut through his belt and buttons at the waist of his trousers before tugging them down to his ankles. Terror replaced the hate in his eye. He thought I was going to castrate him. God knows that had happened in this filthy war. His white genitals were shrivelled with pain and fear as he tried to move backwards despite his hands being pinned behind his back and his legs being tangled in his trousers. I moved my knife towards his middle and lifted his shrunken penis on its point. It was little more than the size of an acorn. "My God," I sneered. "If that's all you can give her she's in for a treat today." I turned my attention to the Woman and gestured to her to stand up. "Strip!" She shook her head. Without saying anything I moved back to the Man and pulled my foot back. He tried to curl up to protect his balls and head but my boot hit him hard in the ribs with a thud that echoed round the empty room. Then I took a step to the side so I was level with his head and swung my foot back again. "No," she said and began tugging at her jacket and scrabbling with buttons of the mannish shirt she was wearing. Once she was down to her underwear she stopped, her arms vainly trying to cover the grubby once-white bra and knickers she was wearing. Laundry was probably not high on anyone's list of priorities at the moment. "Strip!" I repeated and she slowly unclipped her bra and dropped her pants. I ordered her to turn round and pulled her arms behind her to put on the second pair of handcuffs. In all honesty she did not look much with her spiky boyish haircut and her skinny body with its slightly drooping breasts and tuft of black hair. No one was eating well in this town any more. Not even us. I turned her to face the Man and stepped behind her, holstering my gun so I could use both hands to squeeze her breasts and tug at her nipples before running one hand across her belly into her hair to rummage between her legs. I wanted him to see just how beaten he was. We'd taken his new 'country' then his town and his woman was next. This invasion was going to be complete. All the way up inside her. And if I was lucky maybe the ultimate. Perhaps one of my little soldiers would find its way inside her egg and leave her a little reminder of today. I turned her sideways on to him and pushed her to her knees. She knew what was coming. I unfastened my fly and took out my still-soft cock and let it dangle in front of her. She shook her head and recoiled a bit. It was a couple of days since I'd washed so it was probably none-too-pleasant. "Suck it!" I ordered and she moved slowly towards it. Just as she was about to reach it she felt my gun against her forehead. As she watched I slowly pointed it at the Man's head and warned: "No teeth." She looked up with pleading eyes and said: "Please don't. What would your wife think of you doing this?" It was a shock. If the fighting had gone another way perhaps it would have been my wife on her knees in front of an enemy soldier, a stranger, forced to take his unwashed stinking cock into her throat. But I said: "She'll never know. It's our little secret eh? Suck it!" She twisted her neck to stoop down and take the head in her mouth. I felt her tongue and lips get to work and slowly it hardened and thickened as I alternated my gaze from my cock, now coated with her saliva disappearing and reappearing from her mouth and looking into the Man's eyes as he was forced to watch his woman pleasuring me. As I got harder she because more enthusiastic, bobbing her head hungrily on my cock, licking the head and sucking. I was not fooled. I'd seen it before. She had not been suddenly overcome with lust. She was trying to get me off, hoping that if I came in her mouth I wouldn't fuck her and perhaps impregnate her. I was happy to let her try. Happy to let him see how eagerly she was sucking me. Considering she just had her mouth free and no hands she got me to the brink remarkably quickly and I stepped back, my cock leaving her mouth with a liquid pop. I got behind her and pushed her head down to the floor, her arse in the air and her cunt an inviting target. I put my fingers to her cunt to open it up. She was dry. So much for the eager blow job. I put one hand under her arms and lifted her up moving her over to the Man. "Juice her up for me,. Get her ready for my cock," I said as I pushed her down to sit on his face. He hesitated."Lick her or I'll cut off what's left of your balls." Reluctantly he put out his tongue and began to do as he was told. I stepped forward and put my cock back in her mouth so he could look up her belly and past her breasts to see me fucking her face. I'd like to have fucked her while she was on top of him. Give him a close up view of my cock in his woman but I did not fancy letting him maybe bite my balls off. So instead I made her kneel to the side and then pushed my cock into from behind. She was tight and I felt her walls pushing my foreskin back and the sensitive head of my cock being squeezed. The women had all fled so it had been a few weeks since I'd had one and I enjoyed the feeling. As I sawed in and out she began to lubricate more and my cock glistened with her juices as I pushed in up to the hilt. My stomach was slapping against her backside as I drove it home. It would have been nice to take more time, maybe fuck her arse for a while too but the time to leave was fast approaching so I speeded up and then pushed myself hard into her as the cum shot from the end of my cock in half a dozen ecstatic spasms. In my mind I saw it firing deep into her womb and heading for that egg. I looked at the Man's face and gave an other push just so he could see how deeply I was firing those millions of sperm into her. I turned her round again and pushed my softening cock to her face. "Clean it" She obeyed before I pulled out and she collapsed on the floor sobbing, curling into a foetal position. I ignored her, fastened my trousers and cut some flex from an old electric fire. I told her to mount the Man again in a 69 position and fastened them together with it before removing her handcuffs and retying he arms behind the Man. He had a perfect view of my handiwork between her legs and my sperm seeping out of her. I used her belt to lash his legs together and then pulled off his shoes and trousers. I tied his hands behind her and pocketed the handcuffs before scooping up their clothes and shoes and tossing them down the stairwell. It would not take them long to get free once I left but much longer to find their clothes and shoes in the dark. No one went barefoot in this world of broken glass. By the time they were ready to move I'd be long gone. It would have been easier and quicker to slit their throats but even in a civil war the killing has to stop somewhere. I did another careful scan of the surrounding buildings before shouldering my light pack and retrieving my rifle. I looked down at them and gave her a gentle slap on the rump. "Thanks for the fuck. Take care of the baby," I said and left, warily making my way out of the back door to work my way back to base. On the way I could not help thinking about what the Woman had said about my wife. What would she think of me? On my trips home we never talked about what happened out here. She heard all the claims on the foreign news reports but she never asked if it was true or if I was involved. She did not want to hear the answer. Two years ago I had been an ordinary man like you, who loved his family and went to work. What was left of him and what sort of man was going home to her? In fact what sort of men were any of us now? What sort of country could we rebuild? We used to be engineers and shopkeepers and farmers but now we were killers, robbers and rapists used to taking what we wanted and settling arguments with the barrel of a gun. The rebels had been defeated, that was for sure but what about us? Had we really won? Maybe nobody had won. Perhaps in a war like this everyone loses. Spoils Of War Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to rozezwild for her editing to make this a better story. Monday, April 16: For the last seven of my eighteen years, I had been fending for myself, my parents and brothers having been killed in one of the earliest skirmishes of the war. We hadn't even chosen sides, let alone making such a declaration. That didn't keep the men of the Domination Alliance Delivery Society army from firing their heavy artillery at every part of the city. Thousands upon thousands of people were killed and only the very fortunate were spared. I was lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to be one of those. Now for seven years ... actually just six years, eleven months, and three days, but who's counting ... I had been scrounging for a living since I dug my way out from under the rubble that piled up around me, leaving a narrow passageway that only a little boy or girl could crawl through. I had, in fact, managed to salvage years of living from the rubble of the city, crawling into ruined buildings and bringing out food and clothing and survival gear. I created caches of stuff around the city where I could get it and it was not too obvious to the soldiers of the Worldwide Optimization of Maternal Endowment Networks (WOMEN) or their vicious foes, Domination Alliance Delivery Society (DADS). The city had been the site of horrendous battles over the years and both armies had left occupying forces behind when they had won a hard fought battle and the civilians who stayed behind had to live like rats to avoid being killed by the soldiers. The grapevine carried stories of fresh casualties among the civilians almost every day and now there were fewer than two dozen people that I knew still alive. Like me, all of them were refugees in the war-torn city. My caches of food had lasted me for years, during which I had searched in ever widening circles around the city, reaching into the suburbs to ransack demolished homes of people driven out years ago. The problem with that was that travel was so difficult, even with the cobbled-together bicycle that I sometimes used, because I always had to be wary of soldiers and usually had to travel at night. Even then the night-vision goggles they used made it pretty dangerous. But when a person got hungry enough, he'd try anything. I had managed to feed myself well enough over the years to have grown into a 6' 1" 174 pound man; at least I thought of myself as a man. But now I had been out of food for two days and was surviving on occasional sips of water but even that was nearly gone. I would have gone out foraging days ago except that I had the misfortune of spending a night in a corner of a destroyed building and then watching a squad of WOMEN soldiers set up camp right on top of the building before daybreak the next morning. I'd tried to sneak out at night twice and nearly got caught but tonight I had decided that I had to get out or I was going to die anyway. I had to be careful but I had to get out of there. With nightfall, the soldiers who had been on patrol began to return to camp, which was comprised of row upon row of tents and mess fires scattered among them, all broken up by the remains of the now-useless houses. Taps sounded at 10 P.M. and everyone except guards retired. I knew the closest edge of camp would be the most heavily guarded, since it was closest to the DADS soldiers, so I mapped a mental path to another side. At midnight according to the stars, I began crawling among the tents. Fortunately the moon was not out and there was very little light. I had to crawl until after 4 A.M., when I figured I was far enough away from the soldiers to be able to walk upright. It gave my aching back a little break just to be able to stand, to say nothing of what it did for my bleeding hands and knees. I figured I had walked several miles into the burbs by 5:30 and knew that dawn was maybe 45 minutes away so I began looking for a likely hiding place. A lot of the homes in this area were still intact, having been far enough away from most of the fighting to have avoided all the explosions. Still the residents had been herded away long ago. I found one whose back door was attached to a shaky frame, having been eroded apparently just by neglect. With a little shove of my shoulder and a hand on the knob to keep the noise to a minimum, I gained entrance to the house. The kitchen held a treasure trove of canned goods, although there was no water. However some canned fruit juice would suffice for now. I created a makeshift bag from a hand towel and carried some groceries to the basement, figuring that I would be safer there than upstairs in a bedroom. My trusty knife opened a few cans and I ate the cold food and drank my fill gratefully. After I had eaten, I found a pile of long-dirty laundry, curled up on it and went to sleep. I was deep in sleep when something hit me in the stomach hard enough to make me gasp for air ... and think that I was dying from lack of it. I opened my eyes to see soldiers pounding at my arms and legs and aiming at my stomach again. I managed to roll onto my side and several rifle butts landed on my side and back and buttocks. They were WOMEN soldiers and they were vicious. I heard a voice and the soldiers stopped pounding me and grabbed hands and legs so that I was pinned to the cold concrete floor, the laundry bed having disappeared somewhere in the beating. By the time I got my breath back, the voice materialized beside me, a corporal by the stripes on her sleeve. She had a devilish look on her face as she pulled out a big hunting knife and with one swipe, cut right through my heavy leather belt. Another slash and my jeans were cut from waistband almost to one knee and the soldiers yanked them to my knees. I hadn't been able to find underwear for the last few years so my private parts were laid bare. The corporal's face seemed to light up with even more of the satanic grin. She dropped to her knees and held up my flaccid cock. "Look at the size of this mother-fucker, girls. This one is a prize." I didn't know what she had in mind or what she meant, nor could I control my penis which had begun to grow hard. The corporal laughed and batted my cock with the side of her knife while she grabbed my scrotum at its base, cupping my balls in her hand. At first it was an absolutely delicious feeling, one I had never felt before. That soon changed as her hand tightened down like a clamp and began to squeeze harder and harder, sending unearthly pain though my body. I tried to curl up into a ball to protect them but with two soldiers on each arm and leg I couldn't do anything but bear the agony. Then I watched in horror as the corporal brought her knife down to her fingers and when I felt the sharp blade against my fevered skin, I knew what she intended to do. I knew that they would never experience the real purpose for their existence. She glanced at me with pure hatred in her eyes and said "Say goodbye to your manhood, sonny. You've screwed your last woman." Suddenly a voice boomed from above. "Stop that, corporal! Soldiers, don't let her cut that prisoner!" There was a flurry of activity as the corporal was attacked by several of the soldiers and most of the ones holding me let go. Still I knew I was a prisoner and waited to see what was happening. Almost instantly the voice materialized into a lieutenant standing over me. Her name tag read Cooper, Cary. She said "Corporal, you know that our orders are that there will be no more castrations. What were you thinking?" The corporal muttered something and the officer instructed the soldiers to get me to the headquarters building. I hadn't realized it but I had camped within two blocks of another WOMEN's camp and someone had seen me sneak into the house. Now they marched me, still naked below the waist, to their headquarters house and tied me to a kitchen chair. The officer pulled up a chair and said "Look, soldier, I don't want to have my people hurt you so if you'll just cooperate, we can do this painlessly and then we'll take good care of you. What unit are you from?" "Ma'am, I'm not a soldier and I'm not from a unit. I'm a survivor from the city." "Oh, come on, soldier. You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" "Yes, ma'am. It's the truth." "Look" she said, bending over and poking my flaccid cock with her baton. "No man develops his penis to a size like that without screwing a lot of women, and the only way you could screw a lot of women is by being a soldier and raping POWs. Now tell me that's not true." "No, ma'am, it isn't. I ... I don't know what you mean about the development but I've never screwed a woman, civilian or soldier." "Oh, come on. Are you trying to tell me that you're a virgin?" "I'm not sure what that is." "Haven't you ever put that thing inside a woman?" "No, ma'am." She studied my face for several minutes, then asked "Why would I believe that you are not a soldier?" "Ma'am, I was 10 years old when the war started and all my family was killed. I survived by scrounging from the wrecked buildings until now. My 18th birthday was ... uh, last month and the army wouldn't take me before. Then when I got old enough, I didn't believe in what they represented so I wouldn't sign up." The officer was absentmindedly running her fingers up and down the length of my penis and had made it grow fully erect, to my embarrassment. It felt so good but I was afraid that she was going to be offended. I knew the stories about WOMEN castrating all the men they took prisoners and had to wonder how long my reprieve would last. Finally she looked back down at my crotch and began licking her lips. "So you don't know where the DADS army is located?" "Oh. Well, I know where there are three camps but I'm not sure how many soldiers are located in each of the camps." "Ah! How about showing us where those camps are?" She pulled out a detailed map of the area. I showed her exactly where they were located and gave her my estimate of the number of soldiers and types of equipment that I knew was in each. She made notes in a little book, then turned to the corporal and said "Corporal, take care of this prisoner. Arrange for his incarceration here in the basement and work out guard assignments. I'm going over to company HQ to talk to the captain." With that she bounded up the stairs and was gone. The sullen corporal got me out of the chair and shoved me toward a stairway, making sure to push me down the last few steps. She had the soldiers take me to the laundry area, where the concrete floor was shaped where water would enter a central drain. At the corporal's order, the soldiers fastened spikes on opposite walls, striped off my shirt, and tied me spread-eagle with ropes over the drain. I wondered what the corporal was thinking. I didn't have long to wait. She straddled me, pulled down her camouflage trousers and squatted above my genitals. Almost immediately a hard stream of warm piss flooded me while the soldiers laughed. When the corporal was finished and dressed again, she told the others to pick a spot and relieve themselves. One by one, they followed the corporal's example, one pissing on my face, another on my chest, a third and fourth peeing on my face and then two more pissing on my cock and balls. By the time they had finished, I was pretty thoroughly coated with the stinking excrement. The corporal detailed one soldier to watch me and hose me down every so often while the others went upstairs. The day passed slowly. Every two hours, the soldier standing guard was replaced. Every so often, one of the soldiers came downstairs and peed on me. A lot of them seemed to delight in trying to drown me with their yellow streams, filling both my nose and mouth faster than I could swallow. My hair was soaked with the stuff and smelled like an outhouse. I could only imagine what I was like below the waist, where even more women chose to squat. I was sure that the soldiers had told other squads about me because more than just the lieutenant's squad came to relieve themselves. Every so often the guard would hose me down with cold water so she could stand the smell. Tuesday, April 17: The day dawned with the sound of heavy artillery and I guessed that the WOMEN were shelling the three camps of DADS. The loud booms sounded all through the morning and then the squad, except for a lone guard, disappeared for the rest of the day. Nor did they appear when nightfall arrived. However someone came down the stairs and whispered to the guard. When we were alone again, the guard came over and said "I guess you're going to be a hero now. Sounds like we completely devastated those three camps and they all held large numbers of the DADS army in this state. What do you think of that?" "I don't know. Will it change what you think of me?" Her name tag read Nancy Strickland. "Well, sure. At least now I know you're not on their side. Sometimes it seemed like every man in the world was against us." "Well, they're not! I'll bet there are still a lot of men who like women. Its just that the gays have taken over and nobody else is allowed to speak or even think." While I was talking she was taking down her trousers and I knew what was coming next. She squatted over me but then seemed to think better. She moved to the side and peed directly over the drain, but then she turned and sat down on my chest. Looking intently at my face, she asked "is it true that you have never put that big dong of yours inside a pussy?" "Yes." "Have you ever tasted a pussy?" "No. Why would I do that?" "Because every woman loves it and a lot of men used to like it too." "What does it taste like?" "I don't know. Sweet and sour at the same time. Good but bad. It's an acquired taste. I love it." "Oh. So you eat the pussies of other soldiers?" "Sure. When we can't get a man, having a woman is the next best thing." "Ah. So men are becoming obsolete." "No, silly. Screwing around with another woman is okay but you can't get a baby from another woman. You gotta have a man." "Okay. So if you let me eat your pussy, would you have a baby?" "No. You gotta put your cock in the pussy and then cum." "All right. So ... would you let me taste your pussy?" "Sure, honey" and she slid forward until her crotch was touching my face. The smell was immediately obvious, slight musky, not overpowering though. Then I poked my tongue out and tasted the flesh where she was split into two halves. There was a distinctive taste but I didn't see anything really special about it. Then she reached down and spread herself and showed me the angry red meat inside her. She pointed to a little bump and said "This is my clitoris. I call it clitty. It's the really sensitive part. Lick it softly with your tongue and then lick back here" and she pointed to an area that confused me, until I realized that it was an opening into her insides. I began licking, going from one area to the other and back. Finally she told me to suck on her clitty and I did, as if it were a nipple. I was startled when she clamped her knees to the sides of my head and nearly burst my head from the pressure. It wouldn't have mattered, I thought, because it seemed like she was going to suffocate me first. I could feel a series of shakes throughout her body, not unlike the uncontrollable shakes of someone lifting an enormous weight, and figured it was the result of her trying to crush my head. I hadn't expected it and was totally unprepared for such action. To my eternal happiness, the squeezing eased when she relaxed and her legs spread wide. I went back to tasting her pussy and was surprised to find a fresh stream of some kind of clear liquid flowing from her opening. It tasted good though so I pursued licking up all of it that I could find. She seemed to like whatever I was doing and kept moving her bottom around so that I would find all of the sweet/tart juices coming from her. I began to get the idea that what I was doing was to her liking when her legs clamped around my head a second and then a third time. However after that she seemed to just collapse off to the side, mumbling incoherently something about "oh, yes ... fuck me ... suck me ..." I didn't know what to do next so I twisted my body toward her and she rolled into my arms, planted several deep kisses on my lips, and went to sleep. I lost track of time and without any windows in the basement, it was impossible to tell what time it was. Intuition told me that it was late afternoon when I heard a voice telling Nancy that she was relieved of guard duty. I was surprised to see the corporal had taken over the duties. However I was still sleepy and turned back on my side and closed my eyes, hoping that the corporal would leave me alone. It didn't happen. A few moments passed and then I heard a banshee-like scream just before something hard hit me on my back side. The blow made my buttocks burn like fire but they were nothing compared to the pain that surged through my body from the contact with my balls. I had never felt anything like that. I curled into a tight fetal position and tried to pull my scrotum into the protection of my legs but just touching them sent me into spasms of pain I never would have thought possible. The screaming had continued, mixed with my own cries of outrageous pain, and a second blow landed a little above the first, on the top part of my ass and I screamed again in absolute agony. Vaguely I heard boots in a hurry coming down the stairs and voices yelling. One I thought sounded like the Lieutenant, saying "Corporal, drop that board! That's a command, corporal!" There was a rush of bodies behind me and I got the impression that they might have been piling on top of the corporal. A couple of soldiers bent over me and said something but with a ringing in my ears, I couldn't seem to understand what they wanted. After only a couple of minutes, someone brought some towels that had been soaked in warm water and very gently they wrapped the towels around my scrotum and my burning ass. Through a red haze in my brain, I was aware that the Lieutenant had the soldiers string the corporal up by some sort of rig along one wall, then ripped off her insignia, telling her that she was under arrest. With another rush of boots, a doctor came down the stairs and stepped in front of me. She opened a bag and removed some gear and began to examine me. When she was finished, she said "Lieutenant, I don't think there's any permanent damage, although we might need some x-rays to be sure. For now, you need to get him to the nearest bed. Probably now the best thing is to keep applying those warm compresses every few minutes for the next 24 to 36 hours and lets see if we can keep the swelling to a minimum. After that ... well, who knows if his testicles will work or not." The Lieutenant said "I'll take him up to my room and we'll take care of him there." After the doctor left, the Lieutenant had the soldiers try to get me to my feet so we could go upstairs but the pain was too great for me to stand. Finally someone brought a canvass stretcher down and they got me rolled onto it. With two soldiers at the head, two at my feet and two on either side, they slowly began to carry me up the long flight of stairs. They set me down on the first level in what could have been a kitchen. The soldiers rested for a few minutes and one of them brought freshly wet warm towels for my sore body. Then very carefully the women picked me up again and we started up another flight of stairs. The jostling was very painful but I could tell that they were trying to be as gentle as possible so I bit my lip and didn't complain. Spoils Of War At last the soldiers maneuvered me into a fairly large room, which I decided must be the master bedroom. There was a king-sized bed along one wall and they made that our final destination. The transfer was very painful but it was finally accomplished and the towels were replaced with fresh ones, and in a bit the pain subsided considerably. I heard the Lieutenant say, "Okay, we'll take two hour shifts with the prisoner, going alphabetically, except for Weaver. Whoever is on shift will change these towels every ten minutes. If he needs anything ... anything at all ... you will take care of it. Understand? Any questions?" There were none. I shifted slightly to make sure I didn't put any pressure on my balls and then drifted off to sleep. Wednesday, April 18: I didn't wake until the afternoon sun was streaming through the west side window. I was starved, I still stunk to high heaven, and I needed to relieve myself. I called to the guard, which turned out to be Melody Matthews. Melody rushed to my side, her face showing concern. I told her what I needed and she asked if I thought I could get to the bathroom with her helping me. She helped me get my body turned around so I could ease my feet to the floor, then put my right arm around her shoulder and helped me to stand. I was dizzy for a bit but she stood very still in front of me, holding on for dear life so I didn't fall. I began to take baby steps toward the room she pointed out and after a few minutes, eased myself around the corner into the room. Melody deposited me, not without some pain, on the commode. While I rested, she took off her uniform until she stood naked like me. She explained that she'd have to get in the shower with me to make sure I didn't fall. When I was ready, she helped me back to my feet and into the shower stall. Fortunately it was large, slightly rectangular, and large enough for both of us. Melody propped me against the wall an let the warm spray cover me from head to toe while she applied shampoo to my hair and then soap to my entire body except for my scrotum. By the time the water began to turn cool, I was feeling human again. Melody got me dried off and again seated on the closed commode while she dried herself. I knew I was getting well because I could not help but appreciate her curves. She didn't object when I put my hands around her hips and felt the shape of her bottom, nor when I fondled her bulbous breasts. When we got back to the bed, someone she had called had changed the sheets and it felt nice and cool to slide in between them. Melody asked, "Would you like something to eat?" "Yes, I would" I replied softly, crooking my finger at her. When she bent over me, I said, "I would like to eat your pussy." That seemed to be the last thing in the world she expected. However when I repeated the request, she removed her pants, climbed onto my face and gave me access to her sweet delights. I became so engrossed in what I now considered to be one of the most desirable of all activities that I didn't know when Melody's soft tongue began to lick my semi-erect cock. It wasn't long before my member was standing at full attention trying to salute her talented tongue. The more I ate pussy, the more I liked to eat pussy. Having learned with Nancy's cunt, I began to perfect my technique with Melody's sweet hole. Eagerly I worked up and down her slit, in and out of her hole, around and on her clit until she was quivering and quaking from several climaxes. In the meantime I had to admit that I had never felt anything so fabulous as her mouth on my cock. She was bobbing her head up and down, taking a little over half of it before it hit the back of her mouth and she started over again. Suddenly my sore balls began to feel strange and then they started spitting stream after stream of hot lava into Melody's throat. At first I thought there was something wrong with me but then the magnificent feelings began to register on my brain ... there was no pain in my balls, only a sense of complete euphoria. After the spurts stopped, Melody very tentatively cupped my balls in her hands. The sensation was indescribably delicious and my tongue made a longer-than-usual swipe through the crease between her legs. I spotted her puckered anus and jabbed my tongue at it, holding the soft round cheeks of her bottom open with both hands. That seemed to send her over the edge one last time, shivering and shaking like a leaf in an earthquake. For the first time in my life, I actually lay with a woman when Melody rolled off me and turned to lay in my arms. She taught me how to kiss, how sweet it could be for our tongues to battle in her mouth ... or mine. How sweet it was to just lay against her soft, sweet-smelling body, to feel the heat of her along my own. How could anyone completely turn away from the attention of a woman for the rough affection of a man? I was famished. When it was time for the changing of the guard, Melody had her replacement, Lisa Showalter go to the kitchen and bring me a big plate of food. While Lisa sat on the bed and talked to me about my experiences, I devoured the food like I hadn't eaten in a week. When it came time for Lisa to change my towels, I asked her to fondle my dick. At first she was very wary of causing me additional injury but I finally convinced her that I was well enough for that, so she tried it. We found that the swelling in my balls had receded considerably and there was really must less pain in her touch than I had expected. While Lisa checked me out, my hands roved over her legs and bottom and before she knew it, I had her naked and straddling my face. For the rest of the day, I spent a good deal of time with my tongue exploring the pussies of my guards, all of whom were quite willing to allow me to eat them, initially because their orders were to give me whatever I wanted and later because my tongue gave them pleasure they had been missing. Still they would not let me go downstairs for dinner, instead bringing me a tray to eat in bed. By the time I had finished it and eaten Nancy, Melody, Lisa and Sara Lewis, the Lieutenant appeared and dismissed the guards for the night, but not before getting a report of my love for eating pussy. Although the Lieutenant was obviously several years older than the other soldiers, she was still a very pretty woman with a very curvy body. She crawled into the sheets facing away from me, apparently with every intention of going to sleep immediately but I inched up behind her and began to fondle her. After several soft sighs, she asked "What do you want?" "Lieutenant, may I please eat your pussy?" "Are you sure you want to do that? I must be more than double your age." "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I didn't know that would be a problem. Do you not like it anymore?" "Are you kidding? I'd love to, but I don't ... don't want you to feel ... forced." "Believe me, Lieutenant, I don't feel forced." "Really? Well, let's see what we can do." With that, she stood on the bed and, when I moved to my back in the middle of the bed, she straddled my face and very slowly lowered herself, carefully watching to see when my tongue and her pussy met. I tongue-washed her whole valley and then began to do those things that the soldiers had taught me. It was probably less than five minutes before she hissed "yes, yes, yes, I'm cumming" and squirted a little stream of sweet-tart juices onto my face. When the orgasm passed, Cary could no longer support herself and was going to roll off me but I held onto her hips so that she had to lay on top of me. In the meantime, I kept my tongue working in her valley, nudging her clitty, exploring her lips and inside her cunt until she came again and again. After her third orgasm, she captured my cock and very tentatively sucked it into her mouth. As she found out that I was not in any huge pain, she began sucking and bobbing with more authority, finally pushing her head down my shaft until the bulbous head was going in and out of her throat. It was magnificent, the best blow job anyone had given me. When my balls could wait no longer, Cary pushed her head down, clamped her lips around the base of my cock and took my cum directly into her throat. We went to sleep in each others arms after kissing several minutes. Thursday, April 19: I awoke in the morning before reveille sounded. I was on my side facing Cary in the muted light of pre-dawn. I was startled to realize that she was wide awake and staring at me. I said, "Good morning." She replied, "Hi. How are you feeling?" I took a quick mental inventory and said, "Great. Feels like most of the soreness is gone. How about you?" "Me? Oh, honey, I feel wonderful. That was the best night I've had in years." Her hand touched my cock and I began to grow from flaccid to rigid. I leaned over and kissed her lightly, "Can I ask you something?" "Sure." "Nancy talked to me a little about how a cock goes into a pussy. Have you ever done that?" "Oh, yeah, sugar. It's the greatest feeling on earth." "Really? Would you show me how that's done?" Cary propped herself up on one hand and gave me a puzzled look. "You really have never done that with a woman?" "No, I've really never done that with anybody, let alone a woman." She seemed to be lost in thought, then said, "Okay, but we'll have to be quick. I'll have to leave as soon as the horn sounds." Like last night, she stood in the bed and had me lay on my back in the center of the bed. Then she straddled me but, unlike last night, she was facing me and when she eased herself down, her bottom was over my new erection. Carefully she used one hand to guide my cock to her crevasse, wiping the head up and down several time getting it covered with her juices, which seemed to already be flowing freely. The feelings coming from the tip of my member where it entered her were absolutely wonderful. Very carefully, she eased herself down until she was laying on me and we spent the next 15 minutes simply kissing, rubbing each other, letting our fingertips explore the other's body. I could feel my dick completely surrounded by the most fantastic velvety glove, warm and moist and welcoming. Then she supported herself on her hands and began to swing her bottom forward and back, up and down my shaft. She was slow and every time she finished a cycle she rocked back and forth so that my pubis would tease her clitty. Several minutes into it, she emitted a little scream, tossed her head back and shook for several seconds as she came. It took her another minute before she could resume her pace. In a few more minutes, she came again and then several minutes later. That's when she collapsed on my chest. I'd heard enough talk among people in my years in hiding to know about the male dominant missionary position, although I was hoping there weren't a lot of nuances for me to pick up. I held onto Cary and rolled us over. She let her legs spread wide to the side and I found it so easy to slide my cock in and out of her. Remembering the pace she had set, I kept it slow and easy although my brain kept telling me to hammer it into her as fast and as hard as I could. I managed to stave off that urge. I also remembered her rocking to nudge her clitty with each down-stroke so I tried to do the same thing, not sure if it was the right thing to do or not. The look on her face could mean extreme ecstasy or abject pain ... since her arm around my neck would not let me go, I took it as a sign that the look was ecstasy. In a few minutes, she began to toss her head violently from side to side, then became stiff as a board and began to shake. The waves lasted about 20 seconds and then she collapsed on the bed. She pulled me down for a kiss and then whispered "Fuck me hard, honey, I want you to get off inside me, okay?" So I picked up the pace, still trying to nudge her clit on each stroke. A few minutes later my balls convulsed again and spit a load of cum into Cary's hot slick pussy. Then with both legs and both arms wrapped around me, she pulled me down on top of her and kissed me all over. She whispered "I've missed that so much, honey. And I don't remember it being that good even when I got it. Thanks for making me feel great!" She got up and stuck her head out the door. "Lewis, go across the street and see if the captain can come over." I heard Lewis take off running. Twenty minutes later, a woman with captain's bars on her shoulder pushed the door and walked in. Seeing Cary and me naked on the bed didn't seem to surprise her, not even with Cary holding my latest erection. Cary said "Captain, I highly recommend you try some of this. He's not a very experienced lover but I think you'll like him." The captain, with Williams, Sara on her name tag was probably in her early to mid thirties and a little on the heavy side. She doffed her uniform and climbed into bed as Cary left on the other side. Sara lay on her back and seemed ready for me to climb on but I stopped with my face at her crotch, lifted her legs and asked "May I?" just before diving in. She was very dry but that changed quickly as my tongue explored her slit. It took me 15 minutes to get her to cum the first time and then I climbed up and stabbed my cock into her cunt before she had time to recover. When she opened her eyes, I kissed her passionately and started to fuck her. Just short of an hour later, my balls unloaded inside her and set off her sixth orgasm and the captain wanted to know if I would take on the job of fucking a number of women to try to make babies. I said that I would do whatever I could to help. The captain said "We're going to arrange to have some young ladies come to you. If you feel like mating with them, please do so as often as you like." "Uh, Captain, what is mating?" She looked puzzled, "That's what you just did with me. Making love. Fucking. Screwing. Its known by those names and many more. For us it boils down to you putting your sausage in a pussy and shooting your cum into her. That's what can make a woman pregnant. With the way the war between WOMEN and DADS has gone for so many years, our nation's population is really hurting ... on both sides. We have to try to find ways to make babies, to stir up new growth. Already we've skipped more than a generation with very few babies being born." The captain and lieutenant left and a guard soon appeared with my breakfast. My three meals provided nice breaks for me throughout that day, as new guards (they really weren't guarding anything, but I didn't know what else to call them) appeared fairly regularly. The women would enter the room and quickly disrobe. If I showed any interest in her, she offered herself to me for my pleasure. Each of them seemed to want my cock in her pussy and for me to cum inside her and I tried to oblige each one. I knew that I was producing less and less cum as the day went on but even the smallest consisted of four strong shots and a dribble and I seemed to be getting addicted to fucking pussies. I loved exploring the women's curves, sucking her titties and kissing her lips but fucking her pussy was the ultimate pleasure. By the time Cary arrived to retire for the evening, I had fucked seven of the soldiers, not counting Cary and the captain. Still it didn't seem like I was forced to do anything or keep on a schedule. Every time I saw a naked woman, my cock just naturally seemed to be ready to check out her pussy. Friday, April 20: I got up with Cary and she let me go to the dining room for mess. After breakfast, she met with a room full of soldiers that the captain had sent over. They were volunteers who happened to be in the fertile part of their monthly cycle. Cary explained that I had agreed to try to impregnate as many as I could for the cause. Every woman knew the problem the nation faced and was anxious to participate in reversing the trend but there were a few who did not want to participate for one reason or another. Those women were to be excused unless their objection was simply sexual orientation, in which case they were to be impregnated anyway "but they didn't have to enjoy it." As it turns out nobody in the room opted out. Because of my recent injury, Lt. Cooper told the squad that I would have to dictate the pace to begin with and then as I got better I should be able to perform more often. Until then the women waiting were instructed to do everything they could to make the situation conducive to successful screwing. The women who received a load of seed were to spend no less than the next hour on their backs with their bottoms raised to maximize their chances of getting pregnant. By 7:30, I was in bed with Trish Soliano. At 9:30, my partner was Patty Carpenter. At 11:30, I was prodding Kitty Wells. After a short break for lunch, I was inside Lupe Lopez by 1:45. At 3:40, my partner was Frankie Weaver and at 5:30, it was Iris Fleming. Note that Frankie Weaver was the corporal, now private, that attacked me. It turned out that she had been horribly mistreated as a young girl by a predominantly male population and she had come to hate all men and what they stood for. Under command, she came to my bed and let me fuck her. She even responded, somewhat reluctantly, to my tenderness as I tried to make her feel good and assured her that I understood, felt sympathy for her and held no grudge for what she did. I took a dinner break at 7:15 and the captain said that I could take the rest of the night off but I asked for one more so at 7:43, I eased my cock into Merrie Paczki. At 8:35, four of the soldiers took me in a Hummer to the division HQ and by 9:10 I was plying the pussy of 42 year old Colonel Amanda Washington. Saturday, April 21: I spent the night in the colonel's bed, as she taught me the doggy style fuck at 2:44 AM and then let her ride me to an orgasm just before Reveille. I grabbed a hasty bite at the HQ canteen and the soldiers took me back to our base. Cary congratulated me on screwing eight different women successfully and said that if as many as two of them got pregnant, it would be a great start. Because of the timing of the monthly cycles, the rest of the squad would have to wait a few days so HQ had arranged for a group of soldiers from Company B to meet with me at first light. Cary explained the guidelines to them and we got underway, using a brand new arrangement in a house directly across the street. The whole house had been cleared out of soldiers and it was rearranged for my use ... and the women I screwed. There were mattresses set up in all the rooms with special padding so that the women could rest comfortably for the rest of the day before returning to their company. We were even assigned a cook and KP crew to prepare and serve meals on site. WOMEN was going all out to make my situation as comfortable as possible and as conducive to successful impregnation as possible. Someone in HQ was acting as secretary to ensure that only fertile women came to my bed. I would be spending all my time in my new house from now on, even sleeping in my own bed, and three women would sleep with me in case I woke up in the night and wanted a piece of pussy. I was pleased to note that my balls were virtually pain-free when I arose in the morning. Only if I pinched them a little did they show any signs of their mistreatment by the club. By the time nightfall arrived, I had generated ten loads of cum and deposited them in ten different women, all of whom were scattered around the house on various beds still. After evening mess, I fucked one more, rested an hour and then retired for the night with my quota of three females, one of whom I screwed immediately, making a total of twelve for the day. Sunday, May 20: Colonel Washington came by to see me. At the time my partner was riding me slowly so I invited the Colonel to sit on my face and let me eat her out. While she sat and I licked her pussy, she told me that I had had a very successful first month, based on sheer numbers of women screwed. Given a slow start my first day and a day in mid-month when the officers mandated that I cut back the numbers that day to let my balls rest, I had screwed a total of 351 women. Now everyone would be anxiously awaiting the results to see how many got pregnant. Spoils Of War Col. Washington said, "If you could keep up the good work, it would be a great help to the country. Even if none of the women get pregnant, your screwing the women has raised the moral of the entire division because every one now knows that it is possible to have sex with a man again, perhaps in the not too distant future." Monday, June 18: I was visited by General Constance Albright at mid-morning ... she came in while I was plowing yet another private's pussy. She urged me to continue with my work while she watched. The General said, "I wanted to personally congratulate you on your wonderful work for the country and announce that, for your first month's efforts a phenomenal 57% of your partners came up pregnant, a total of 200 women. That is an unusually high number of pregnancies from a first fuck but everyone is ecstatic about it and we hope the numbers will continue to be good." I told her, "I will do my best." Having finished with my current partner while the General talked, I asked "General, would you be my next partner?" She said, "Having passed the change of life, I can not afford to waste your sperm on a lost cause, although I would have liked to fuck you just for the fun of being fucked again." I asked, "Would you at least let me eat your pussy?" The General's face lit up and she said, "I would be delighted." She was soon propped naked in the middle of my bed, her legs splayed wide to her sides while my tongue and mouth savored her clit, pussy and anus and my hands massaged the General's big titties. It took me over twenty minutes to get her to her first orgasm but then she had four in the next fifteen minutes, finally begging me to stop. She seemed to be very happy when she left. Friday, December 21: I had been screwing soldiers for a full eight months and had become quite a celebrity, in some circles at least. WOMEN had other men performing the same work around the country, of course, but I had received special awards on five occasions for having produced the highest number of new pregnancies in a month and the sixth award was in transit from the district. Most of my partners had been with men at one time or another in the past, some married, many with boyfriends, some just banging any cock they could. But then there were the first timers, the virgins, and across the country there were thousands of them, having matured in the years since the war started but not having access to men to deflower them. It fell my lot to do that for hundreds of young women. At first I had no clue how to do it other than like a bull in a china shop but Maria Garcia took me under her wing and explained what a woman was thinking and feeling before her first fuck. She gave me some great advice about getting the girl to relax and minimizing her pain at the moment of truth. It took a little more time but I spent time eating every one of those pussies to at least one climax before I punctured their hymen as gently as possible with a quick sharp stroke. The time spent paid off in some great sex. Finding that I suffered when I took time off, I dedicated myself to screwing a full schedule of women every day and for the last seven months had fucked no less than 385 and no more than 391 in a calendar month. My average success rate for impregnation did indeed drop from that first month's 57% ... to a national best of 54.37%, roughly 210 newly pregnant women every single month. That meant that I had over 1600 buns in the oven and some of them were getting ready to deliver. With the war having been reduced to a mostly mop up campaign and that in only a few of the more mountainous states, the WOMENs army in my state had taken on a police action and was working with a slowly growing civilian population to rebuild the country. It may never be what it once was but it wont be because I failed to try. Its ironic I suppose that the single most pleasurable activity I could ever imagine also happens to fulfill my patriotic duty to the best of my ability. I love my country! The End Spoils of War She was stretched out on his bed like all the others; arms above her head, long lean legs akimbo, naked as the day she was born. Sometimes he wondered idly what brought him to this point, as he stripped off the leather skirting that protected his thighs. But not tonight. His eyes fell indolently on the blindfolded girl as he leaned against the table, his hands in the basin rinsing off blood that splattered his forearms and smooth chest. This one had a fascinating form. She was more curved than the others, her buttocks rising sweetly above the black silk that swathed his bed. Two dimples marked the top of the crease of her ass before it dipped into the folds of her sex. Her legs were muscular, held astride by two cords that secured the limbs to the carved wooden bedposts. Her back was an elegant violin curve to his appreciative eye, each sweep of those orbs a palpable caress. A cascade of honey blonde hair was clasped up and off the swan-like neck, held firm with a strip of leather. The flesh of her arms rippled with goose bumps, clasped above her head with another leathern cord. Her face was turned away from him, not that it mattered. Whatever features she had -- delicate, strong, lovely or plain -- were half concealed beneath a black velvet mask that covered her eyes to the tip of her nose. Certainly there would be no discourse this eve. Like all the others she was a reward, a gift from a grateful Tribunus. No poetry would be written about her lovely face, no wooing, no courting. She was a prisoner, a captive brought to be fucked in whatever way a loyal Centuriones cared. His hands were dried on a soft cotton towel as he stalked toward the bed, a darkly curious look upon his stark Andalus features. Would she lie there unresponsive, her mind a mere shadow? Or could she be aroused, mayhap even to climax? He sat on the edge of the bed, the formidable muscles of his limbs flexing and shifting under the smooth tan of his skin as he reached forth to splay a hand upon the curve of her lower back. He could feel the muscles tense but no sound fell from her lips in encouragement or censure. The strong fingers trailed down the curves of her backside, to cup and squeeze the firm flesh. In sudden counterpoint to the gentleness, he slapped her sharply. Her shoulders visibly tensed, her hands fought their bonds for a heartbeat then... she stilled. He slid his naked form alongside her own, his swollen cock pressed against her hip, insistent with its heat, but he paid it no mind. Instead his tongue laved the curve of her shoulder. "You taste like sweet summer fruit," he murmured, as his tongue traced a tantalizing path down her spine to the curve of her ass. When his tongue delved into the crease, skimmed over her anal bud and into the damp heat of her sex he paused. His hands caressed her thighs whilst his tongue toyed with her clit and even she was unable to resist these unrelenting ministrations. For a moment, her hips ground against the pressure of his tongue, then stilled as though she remembered herself. A single digit stroked her entrance and after an aching pause, slipped within. "Hmmm, wetness," the Centuriones chuckled with wry amusement, "So you are not so detached as you pretend, slave." His calloused fingertips slid across the sensitive nerve endings and despite the disjointed air she pretended, the muscles in her back tightened and her head shifted. "You know what I am going to do?" the rich baritone voice whispered, continuing onward with only the briefest of pauses, "I will take you here." He withdrew his slicked finger and smoothed it over the bud of her anus. He chuckled as she pressed her groin into the bed. His finger returned to tease her, to trace tiny circles and figure of eights across her clit. His heavy cock throbbed dark and pulsing against his lower belly, but he denied himself the exquisite desire to rub himself against her. He remained still, his control evident in every tensed muscle of his body. Two fingers slid into her and withdraw to swath the copious slick of desire across her anus a moment later. With a slow, lazy movement, he shifted and lay upon her, supporting his weight on his arms. His cock nestled firmly in the cleft of her buttocks and he allowed himself the singular pleasure from the sensation of that satin skin on the heated underside of his flesh. His lips tasted of the golden curve of her neck, the honey blonde curls tickling his cheek. He paused in the small licks he was tracing along the shell like curve of her ear and whispered. "I am sure you would like to resist my entry, but I want you to imagine something," His drawl was intoxicating, the press of his cock undeniable, the head so very near her entrance, but not yet... no. "Imagine being stretched open..." He continued, his voice husky. "The sensation of being split apart that shatters into the most intense, unbelievable, mind pounding pleasure you will ever experience." A hand skimmed down to replace his cock at her entrance. His forefinger slid in with little resistance and even she was unable to hold back the keening sound that fell from her lips. "Imagine the feel of my cock where my fingers are. Can you feel that?" He pumps his finger slowly, "I know you can. I can smell your arousal, it is musky and rich. All you need do is let me into you." The words were spoken in rhythm to the slow thrust of his finger. A second joined the first and her hips ground on the sheets. In a brief movement he withdrew and a protest comes from her lips. To oblige he immediately presses his cock to her wet entrance and with bare pressure he moves inward a mere half inch and she moans softly, small beads of sweat breaking out on her brow. "Let me in," he entreats, licking the line of her ear and moves his hips hungrily. And it would seem her walls fell, because suddenly her entrance relaxed and he slid in unopposed with a groan. "Oh...God, you are...so...tight," He gasped and tilted his hips to gain a precious fraction of deeper entry. A quivering pause on a knife's edge of agony consumed her until he leisurely withdrew. The steady rocking of his hips drove the spikes of ecstasy through the base of his spine. Her composure was finally shattering after the first allowance she gave of that most intimate of entrances. Her shoulders tensed and the muscles beneath the golden tan of her skin played and arched. Her hands and feet protested their bondage, pulling and clutching at the leather straps. Small white teeth worried her lower lip as the rose flushed features of her lower face were set in a rictus of pleasure-filled pain. The pace quickened. He held her hips, steadying her uncontrolled movements. His next breath was hard to take, then the next...and the next. Each one became a struggle and she was drawing him in...drawing the very life from him. He was holding back the tidal wave of his climax with inhuman effort. "Come for me, slave girl, feel me in you and come for me," He whispered as the desire for relief became palpable in his voice. "Fuck...you," she gasped harshly with the hesitance of using an unfamiliar language. "You... first." He laughed, his thrusts hard in initial response. "A challenge. The slave girl wants a challenge," He slid his hand beneath her body and circled his fingers on her clit, "So be it." Her body rocked, tethered at each end, unable to grip for purchase as she strained against the inexorable straps again and again and again. "Come for me," he leaned forward and bit her gently on the earlobe, just enough to provide an exquisite counterpoint to her pleasure. He slammed into her hard and still she resisted release. The sounds that came from his lips were animalistic...a rutting beast. Her own were its mate. The contractions started as her ass tightened around his cock, again and again milking him with rhythmic pulses. The sensation drove a strobe in his brain, directly linked to his length. With a final thrust he pressed deep and groaned his release. He collapsed on her briefly, spent. When he removed himself from her he lay to one side, relishing the cool of the silk against his sweat-shined skin. Her back rose hard and fast, mirroring his breathing. "You fuck divinely for a slave," He uttered, his voice rich with amusement. "Fuck you," Her reply was smooth as honey, the vowels rounded as she emulated his tongue. Thin fingers still worked at her bonds, but he did not release her. He turns his head to regard her blinded face. "I fuck divinely for a princess." "I wondered who would end up with you," He drawled while standing from the bed in one languid, predatory motion. "I will kill you next time, Centuriones," She promised softly, stilling her struggles. "I will make you beg for it next time," He spoke close to her ear. She jerked her head away from the sound of his voice. "You first." "A challenge. I like that, slave." Spoils of War Rape is a powerful weapon. Not violent savage rape, but a rape that forces the victim to feel pleasure, to enjoy the touch, the caresses, the deliciously wicked words whispered in your ear, and then the penetration and deep long thrusts that follow and culminate in those elongated waves of pure sexual pleasure. It is purely psychological, you use the person's mind and body against them, I had done this with Maryam. She thought her religious beliefs would save her, that she would not feel anything other than anger, rage, despair and disgust. She was wrong. I sat on the chair in the large tent, in the shadows watching, I heard her moans, long and low, and I watched. The solider between her legs was deep in side of her, he thrust steadily, his face was wet with sweat, so was hers, her eyes were tightly closed and her scarf had moved to reveal her long dark brown hair. The solider had tugged open her gown to reveal her pale heaving breasts, she had lovely breasts, large and rounded with deep pink aureoles that had been pinched, plucked, fondled and sucked. "Oh God!" I heard her moan and I smiled faintly. The solider moved faster and faster inside of her, she arched her body, clawed at his back, her hips rose off the sturdy camp bed to meet his, he lowered his face to her breast, his sweat dripped onto her skin and he licked it away then he latched onto her heaving nipple with his mouth and her eyes shot open to reveal the glazed darkness of her pupils, her mouth formed into a delicious round "O" and she began to pump even harder against him, the solider sucked on the nipple, his tongue rolling around the swollen hardened flesh and then she came as did he, with a wail of unadulterated pleasure that shook the thick canvas walls of the tent. She lay on the bed on her back, spent, her body heaving as the solider slid out off her and got to his feet, he pulled up up his pants, zipped them up with a quick flick of his hand, turned, saluted me and left the tent without even looking back. "Did you enjoy that Maryam?" I asked from where I sat in the shadows. She didn't look at me, she had closed her eyes again, her face was soaked in both her sweat and that of the solider who had just come inside of her. "I hate you," she said in her own language, she had a sweet low voice, she was well educated, and had the beauty of her race, the profile of an Empress, long thin nose, high vaulted cheek bones the long limbs coupled with rounded firm hips, the ever so honey hinted skin that was milky white where the sun had not touched it; her breasts were equally rounded and firm and her and she had long slender fingers, delicate but strong, she had fought hard in the beginning, not wanting to have her body betray her but she was a captive, my prisoner, and I had all the time in the world to break her and she knew it. She would have preferred me to be brutal, but we had not used physical brutality on her, we had been slow, gentle, and constant, bit by bit we broke down her defenses, stripped away her pride, her dignity, her self-righteous rage. She didn't have the courage to take her own life, few people do, perhaps she would have done if we had treated her savagely, true she was being raped but not in the way she had expected, what I had done, I had done in such a way it confused her, and she hated me for it, because I had tapped into a sexual need that she wasn't even aware was inside of her and now it was awake and demanded to sated despite her attempts to crush it from within. She had raised to be a good girl, a respectable girl who obeyed her father and if he was not there then obey her older brothers, physical pleasure was not something had been aware of, even her mother had not told her exactly what to expect on her wedding night when it happened though she heard whispers and had some idea as most girls do, even those who live sheltered constrained lives. Her virginity had been taken by my Sergeant who knew how to please a woman in bed, he had his orders and he had followed them to the letter and now two months on from the day she had been captured, she was being forced to face her own physical weakness for the pleasures of the flesh. "Love, hate," I mused from where I sat my arms folded across my chest, "Both the same really." "You are a woman too!" she spat from where she lay, "And you let this happen!" I smiled, she often threw my sex at me, that I was a woman who allowed men to rape an innocent young girl, yes she had been raped, but she had succumbed to the needs of her body in the end, as I knew she would, the flesh was weak even though her spirit was strong. "You were the price your brothers had to pay for what they did,"I said patiently, "Be glad they think you are dead, we have let them mourn you, grieve for you, you can never go back, they wouldn't want you any way, not after your time with us being used as a mattress but even more so not knowing who the father of your child is either." She went still on the bed at my words, slowly she turned her head toward me, her eyes huge, and filled with shock. I smiled again, "Maryam," I said gently, "You don't think you can avoid getting pregnant do you? My men have been fucking you every single day for the last two months now, you are probably pregnant right already." Her hand instinctively went to her belly which at was still seemed flat but I had noticed an ever so soft roundness to it, and my own female instincts told me that Maryam was well and truly in the family way. "I can't have this baby," she said frantically and struggled to sit up on the bed, tears filled her eyes and slid down her face. "Yes you can and you will," I said calmly, "Because you want to be a mother, and because you have no choice, you won't do anything silly because you know it would be a sin, not to mention the fact you have enjoyed yourself even though you have also hated it, paradoxes are wonderful things, don't you thing?" "I hate you!" she sobbed as more tears, sweat and snot ran down her face. "I know you do," I said gently, "Now lie back down on the bed, you know you haven't finished, you don't finish until midnight, you know the rules." Her hand went to her belly again and the fear in her eyes was fear for the child in her belly. I laughed. "I thought you didn't want to have this baby," I mocked her and she cursed me, scrambling to her feet, her long black cloak billowing out like the wings of a giant vampire bat. She came for me with a shriek of maternal fury, her fingers aiming for my face. I got to my feet and quickly stepped out of the shadows, like my men I was dressed in sandy colored combat fatigues, and like my men I was more than capable of defending myself. I caught both her clawing hands with ease and subdued her with minimal pain or discomfort, she swore, cursed and cried as I pinned her arms behind her back and forced her head almost down into the sandy floor beneath us. I let her rant and rave until all the fight was drained out of her for the time being and then I spoke, slowly and precisely. "Our bodies betray us Maryam, it's a fact of nature, you might hate what is being done to you on one level, but the pleasure it brings is very powerful as well you know, we are all sexual beings, with needs that both frighten and delight us, you struggle with your desires, what you want." "No one wants to be raped," her voice was muffled and I let her go then, she lay face down in the sand for a moment, then she sat up, and brushed her face with her hand, realized the scarf part of her cape was showing her hair and hastily pulled it over her head. "No, they don't," I agreed from where I still, hands at my side, looking down at her kneeling in the sand, "People have fantasies but they don't want the reality which is understandable, with you though, you have given into your bodily desires, it was bound to happen, our bodies are made this way, made for pleasure, some people can control their needs and desires but you are young, and inexperienced, all I did was bring your desires to the surface and now they are being met by my men and you like it, you also hate it but you also love it." "I hate it!" she spat out and I laughed. "No you don't, on one level yes, but on the level that counts you like it, even love it, because you know there is more in the way of bodily satisfaction that you can have, more pleasure, in ways you can't even being to imagine except in a part of your brain that is so ancient it has been locked way, you see Maryam when we were savages, women had to procreate to survive, they weren't monogamous, they fucked men to provide them with the best seed to sire their children, one woman would could have ten children and ten different fathers, she did it to survive and to help her do it, it was made pleasurable, you don't know what your body is truly capable of if you awaken the savage inside of you, like I said, I can prove my theory to you if you want." She looked up at me, startled, I smiled down at her. "I don't believe you," she said, "It's not possible!" "I'll make a deal with you," I said taking her by surprise, "If I can prove what I have just said then you will accept your fate as an army whore willingly, if I don't prove to you what I say is the truth, I will arrange for you to have an abortion, get the Doctor to sew your hymen up, and arrange for you to be miraculously found safe and sound in hiding and returned to your family, unsullied and without anyone knowing you have been an army camp whore for the last few months." She snorted with disdain at my offer, "You wouldn't keep your promise," she said. "Oh I would," I said and she heard the truth in my words, "I am a lot of things Maryam but I don't lie." She stared at me, long and hard, her dark brown eyes taking in my bright blue ones which were odd to her for my skin was scorched by the sun, I tanned easily, and my hair which was fair naturally was bleached white blond by the desert sun. She was sure I couldn't prove to her that she really enjoyed what had been happening to her over the last few months, her body was only reacting to stimulation, not some sort of primordial gene that lay dormant within her being, I would have to convince her what I said was the truth and she did not think that was possible. People were more than just flesh and blood, if they weren't, then what was their purpose in life? I think she thought I was mad at that moment and that I had over played my hand so she nodded her head, and agreed to my deal. Of course I won, I won because I know how the human mind works, I understand people on a base level, I know what makes most of them tick, I have been a people watcher all my life, and I have seen life in all its wonderful and terrible extremes and I know that within all of us is our savage ancestors, all we have to do is awaken it and once awakened it can never be lain to rest. Maryam was only a young girl of 18, she had lived a sheltered life, true she had been indoctrinated into religious fanaticism by her family but she was inexperienced, not only inexperienced but spoilt too, her family had petted and loved her, and her world was small, narrow and confined to the point that it blinded her to the reality beyond the end of her nose. She was not really stupid though, she knew the truth when she saw it, and in knowing the truth, she would have to accept it and its inevitability. She did underestimate me which I knew she would do, the arrogance of youth so often plays a big part in a person's downfall. She saw this later on, and though she still hated me, she accepted her fate as I knew she would because truth brings wisdom, and with wisdom comes maturity and a knowledge that once you have opened certain doors in your life you can never lock them, all you can do is close them and hope no one pushes them open again to reveal all that you are within. So how did I prove my theory to her? It was easy really, what I did was deprive her of human contact, made her afraid, used reverse psychology on her but ultimately my secret weapon was her own changing body, that and the savage I had seen lying beneath a veneer of religious respectability. By suppressing what is a natural instinct in a person, i.e. the need to feel pleasure from self stimulation or with help from others her own people had condemned her, by making sex a secret and a sin they had laid waste to their own sons and daughters. I put her in an air-conditioned sound proofed room in a bunker that was under my command, turned off all the lights and she saw no one at all for many days, she had a latrine in the corner of the room, a mattress to sleep on, a sink with a tap and she was given food though a hatch in the door and after several long days of silence, of constant darkness and of course of sheer boredom she was begging me to let her out. I didn't of course, and she cursed and cried, told me I was not keeping my part of the deal, but to no avail, on the 18h day, she got a visitor, not me, but one of my men, he came into the darkened room, and offered her his company but at a price. Maryam eventually paid the price, she was going mad in the tiny room, she spent most of her time crying and cursing me and also cursing herself for being so stupid, she had fallen into my trap and she knew it. She held out for as long as she could, which wasn't long, she didn't have that sort of mental strength, spoilt sexually repressed girls don't and though she tried to control the situation she was in, she wasn't able to. My men had forced her in the past but they had never really physically hurt her, this time the rules were turned on their head. The solider was rough with her, pulling her scarf off her head in the darkness and then pushing her to her knees and ordering her to suck on his cock. She protested, called him a bastard, and a dog and he laughed as he left her sprawled on the mattress after slapping her face and as he left he told her that she was going to stay in the bunker forever and she was an fool for thinking I would honour my part of the bargain. She didn't believe him at first, but she was disorientated and she had lost track of time, she had no idea how long she had been in the room, and when he returned she cursed him again and he laughed again, slapping and pinching her but not trying to force her to have sex which bewildered her because he could have overpowered her if he had wanted too. The sixth time he came into the room, she tried to scratch his face when he called her a piece of fuck flesh, he knocked her hands to one side, she couldn't see him properly in the darkness, but he was more than aware of her, and then she was squealing as her cape was ripped open and his hands were on her breasts. She struggled like mad, but only briefly because he kicked her legs from under her and she ended up on her back on the mattress, she squealed in surprise and wasn't able to stop him from latching onto one of her nipples with his mouth and when he started to suck her whole body went into a giant spasm that literally took her breath away. Maryam wasn't to know that her breasts were undergoing radical change because they were getting ready to produce milk for the baby she would have in the next few months. They were sensitive to the touch, her whole body was in flux, she was in a nutshell a walking, living breathing hormone that needed pleasure. Maryam was so shocked by the sensation she stopped struggling, the man on top of her sucked one nipple and fondled the other, quite roughly in fact but she found the sensation overwhelmingly pleasurable and then she heard a long low groan, and it was coming from her own mouth! Her brain fired up then and she feebly tried to push the man off her but his mouth increased the pressure on her nipple, sucking, licking and nuzzling and she was overwhelmed by her body's response and the waves running through her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. When he stopped she was so dizzy she didn't know what to do. He roughly pulled her onto her knees and said. "Now it's your turn." She found herself fumbling in the dark, he didn't help her, he slapped her face and made her cry but she didn't protest when he pulled off her headscarf, and without delay she obeyed his harsh words to suck his cock. She suckled it as he had recently suckled her on her nipples, not only suckled it but she founding herself using her tongue to massage the long curved member, and at his command had rolled her tongue around his balls, and had kissed them, he was rock hard, hot, slippery and tasted of sweat and mint, and finally he slid out of her mouth and said in the darkness, in a slightly ragged voice. "Over your face or over your tits?" She was dazed as she replied, "Over my face." He slapped her face again, "Say please!" he ordered her. "Please" she said. "Please what?" "Please come over my face," she choked out. As it was his cum ran down her face and onto her breasts and then he made her lick him clean, and then he left her lying on the mattress crying softly because she had shamed herself by letting him degrade her in such a terrible way. She couldn't understand what had come over her, she was in total shock. He didn't come back but three others did and they took up where he left off, sharing her on the mattress, arousing her still hormone filled body to a point where she thought she was going to pass out. She found herself lying on top of one man, her cunt contracting around his swollen cock as it thrust up into her body whilst the second man was behind her on his knees, she could feel them both, and the sensation was electrifying, their ribbed cocks rubbed through the thin membrane that separated her vagina from her anus and she felt like she was going to explode from the inside out. The third man in the trio was in her mouth, and she was sucking him as she had sucked on the first man. Her mouth felt huge, like it was on elastic, in fact her whole body felt like it was elastic. The man beneath her was sucking on her nipples, and she was gurgling, unable to speak for her mouth was full of the third man's huge cock but she liked it, and she rolled her tongue over his member and remembered with hot shame how she had felt when the first man had cum over face and how she wanted this man to do the same. She was glad she couldn't speak because she knew in her heart she would voice her desires, she kept the cock in her mouth almost desperately for she knew she wanted to be heard and heard in a way that no woman of her merit, class and religious should ever be heard, least of all by men like these. "You are one hell of an army whore " the man who was behind her humping her undulating buttocks whispered in her ear suddenly and she felt her groin contract and spasm at his words. As he spoke the man under her gave a grunting laugh and said horsely, "Our army whore is lactating, I'm going to suck her titties dry and fill her cunt full of so much spunk she will think she's been flooded by a burst dam!" The man behind her laughed too "Hey Jack, let's see if we can drown and choke this whore three ways!" The man in Maryam's mouth laughed and began to thrust harder down her throat, her eyes bulged under the pressure, her lips were moving rapidly over his huge member, and she could barely breathe but she was still sucking, and her tongue was now wrapped around a pair of huge balls that were throbbing under each stroke of her tongue, and her gurgling was now long drawn out groans. They came at the same time, and she did almost drown and choke, her cunt was filled to overflowing, as was her bottom, the man behind her hammered his cock so hard in her butt she was sure he was going to meet Jack in her mouth, and she had to swallow long and hard to accommodate all the cum that gushed out of Jack's cock, especially when he bellowed at her to suck every last drop out of it. Spoils of War He pulled out of her mouth and she cried out, cum sliding down her chin whilst her whole body was on fire, waves were running and up and down her, she could feel her nipples squirting into the man's mouth, and with each hard suck of his mouth, her body betrayed her, she shook, she bucked, she jerked, she wailed. "I'M COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMING!" she screamed before she could stop herself as her body betrayed as I had warned her it would, "OH SWEET ALLAH, DON'T STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!, I LOOOOOOOOOOOVE THIIIIIIIIIIIIS, I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE THIS!" As her body came in multiple waves of pleasure she realised that the female officer had been right, that I knew her better than she knew herself, and she screamed out her rage, her sorrow, her anger, her desire, her primordial lust and her fury, and her orgasm was so big, and long lasting she passed out from it momentarily and when she came to her senses she knew she had lost, and that from deep within her the savage within came had come to surface and it needed to be fed and fed often... Maryam is keeping her part of the deal as I knew she would, after all she had lost, she hates me still of course, but a deal is a deal and she no longer fights what her body wants, needs and desires, she is the best army whore the men can ask for. From gently arousing her body all those months ago, we have awoken a Titan who gives into her bodily desires on a daily and nightly basis. She suckles her bastard son under my eye, and watches me with loathing, love, disgust, desire and hate in her beautiful kohled eyes. "I hate you," she said and there are tears in her voice, tears and lust for what she knows she must endure. "Get out my sight and go and fuck my men"I said to her in a bored voice, "And make sure you do them all tonight, and I mean all of them, get them to sign their names on your ass after they've fucked you, if I don't count 35 signatures on your ass tomorrow, you get to do it all over again until you get 35 signatures, oh and I've decided that the men don't have to use condoms any more, you'll have to take your chances again and beg them not come inside of you, I don't think they'll listen though, do you?" Her face went white at my words, after she had given birth to her son I ordered the men to use condoms when they fucked her and they had obeyed me as I knew they would. She stood up, shaking slightly, putting her son back into his crib and covering him up as he was now asleep. "Maryam," I said when she got to the tent flap and she stopped, not looking at me, waiting for me to speak, "Thank the men after they have raped you, especially if they come inside of you." Out of the corner of my eye I saw her own eyes well up with tears. "Did you hear me?" I said knowing full well she had. "Yes," she whispered. "What did I say?" I asked her. "I have to thank each man after they have raped me, especially if they come inside of me" she said not looking at me. "Make sure you do," I said. She left the tent and I smiled faintly, she'd have a damn hard job getting all the signatures on her butt, and also I knew all my men would come inside her, none would withdraw no matter how much she begged them, and she would beg them, I knew she would, it was going to take her at least a month of humping and sucking to get all those signatures, but it would keep her busy, she would do it not only because of the deal she'd made with me but because she was also afraid of me, I had made her see inside of herself and she hated and loved what she saw. Later I headed to my tent to go to bed, I heard her voice in the darkness, she was in the back of one of the lorries being gang-banged, I heard her gurgling out she needed signatures on her ass after they'd come inside of her, there ere eight of them doing her and I think she got two signatures from that session; I waited in the darkness and listened to her, she thanked each of them like I told her too; they all came inside of her, and her begging was followed by tears and then her multiple orgasms, it was going to be a very long night for Maryam, the lovely British army whore, and eventually the camp Doctor will tell her she is pregnant again, it won't take long, she is fertile as an oasis is Maryam. Her happiness and unhappiness would know no bounds, she loved being a mother, even to a child whose father she couldn't have picked out in a crowd. I will let her get pregnant one more time before letting her go. My Sergeant is retiring soon and he wants to take her with him, he's very fond of her, he enjoys sharing her, he has his own sexual predilections and one of them is watching the woman he loves being fucked by other men. He can't father children, mumps as a child but he will take Maryam's bastards on as his own, she won't turn him down, and she will eventually marry him and go to England. Of course she will still be a whore, and a paid one at that this time, Sergeant Williams intends for her to work in a brothel when she isn't looking after the children, and keeping house for him, she will both love and hate her new life she both loves and hates her life now. Like I said rape is an incredibly powerful weapon, as is the primordial beast within us all, especially when you manipulate it the way I have done, Maryam is a victim of course, of that there is no arguing and victims always loose out, everyone knows that, its a tragic fact of life, but then so is war and this is war and Maryam is a victim twice over, she is paying for the sins of her fathers and the sins of her own bodily desires. I walk away from the lorry and leave the men to enjoy Maryam, her begging has now become cries of pleasure, she will orgasm soon and her moaned thanks will arouse me, so I wish to get my own relief in the privacy of my own tent, after all I am only human and Maryam's downfall has awakened in me my own hunger that I must conquer, for I too desire Maryam, but I will never have her, for she is the spoils of war and has to be treated as such, for now and ever more... Spoils of War I'm close to the end of my life now, and as you reach your twilight years mostly all you have left is memories. Especially since I lost my wife of more than 50 years, Katie, I spend most of my time looking back.: my youth in Nebraska; my brief spell as a college football star; the first time I ever saw Katie, and fell in love with her; and, of course, the War. The Second World War, as it came to be known, was, apart from Katie, probably the thing that made the greatest impact on my life. I guess it's much the same for most of the guys who went through it. Naturally I have a lot of memories from that period: the men I trained with; the rush of adrenalin that came with the excitement and fear of battle; D Day and the push to Berlin; the friends I saw die; and other sights I try not to remember, in case the nightmares start again. But, much as I want to put it out of my mind, there was one incident in that war I can never forget. One which I've never told to another living soul, not even Katie -- especially not Katie. Until now. It was in late '44 in an area of France called the Ardennes, which borders with Belgium. I wasn't a career soldier, I'd been an insurance clerk before the war. But by then I was Sergeant First Class Clayton Winterbourne, a battle hardened 23-year old. My platoon had gotten into a fire fight with some Nazi skirmishers. We were outgunned and had to pull back, but somehow I got separated from the rest of the guys and found myself alone, low on ammunition, and with three miles of German held territory between me and the Allied front line. I figured the best thing I could do was find somewhere to stay out of sight, and try to make it back to safety at nightfall. I picked my way through a wooded area, and saw what looked like an abandoned farmhouse maybe 80 yards away. The place was pretty beat up -- it looked as if half the roof was missing -- and to get to it I was going to have to make it across an open field, making me easy meat for any Germans (we called them krauts back then) who happened to be around. I said a quick prayer -- my religion was very important to me in those days -- and ran hell for leather, expecting a bullet in the back at any moment. By the time I fell against the wall of the building I was sobbing for breath, my lungs on fire. I squatted behind the cover of what appeared to be a stone animal pen and recovered my composure. Then, warily, I made my way into the farmhouse. It smelt dank and musty, and the only light came from a couple of small windows, their glass and frames long disappeared. Nervously pointing my M1 carbine ahead of me, ready to fire at the first hint of trouble, I picked my way carefully across a kitchen furnished only with a sturdy old wooden table. I trod carefully, trying not to make a noise among the broken glass and general trash which littered the floor. My heart leapt as I heard a rustle, then a goddamned rat skittered across the floor. I resisted the instinct to blow its brains out. I checked the place out room by room. The stone staircase to what had been the upper floor ended at the fourth tread, the ceiling open to the sky, which made the task easier. As I approached the final room I began to relax: it looked as if I had found a safe hiding place. Then, my heart stopped beating in my chest. I could her someone breathing in that room. It was quiet, but in the still of the day, following the earlier gunfire, my ears were super sensitive. There was definitely someone in there. Wishing I'd removed my pack, I pressed my back to the wall, and edged towards the open doorway. Convinced the top of my skull was about to be blown away, I peered carefully into the room. There was a metal-framed single bed beneath the window, with a grubby mattress -- and on it knelt a man. He had his back to me, staring out of the window, but was clearly a German infantryman. His tunic lay beside him on the bed, with his helmet, revealing his uniform shirt and suspenders. My first thought was to blow the SOB's head clear through the window. But who knew how close the nearest enemy patrol was? In this quiet rural setting the sound of gunfire could arouse interest hundreds of yards away. I hesitated for seconds that felt like hours. Then I made my decision. Gripping my rifle more tightly, I swung into the room and hissed "Hände hoch", one of maybe a half dozen German expressions I knew. The guy froze for a second, then slowly complied, raising his hands high above his head. He carefully shuffled backwards on the bed and placed his feet on the floor, then slowly turned to face me. I noticed that his boots lay on the floor, and his feet were covered by thick gray woollen socks. Great, I thought: I've taken a prisoner, alone, miles into enemy territory, surrounded by thousands of his kamaraden. Nice going, Clay. I quickly scanned him and the room around me for weapons. I saw none. He didn't appear to be a sniper then, left to mop up any Allied troops dumb enough to get lost there -- like me. I jumped as he spoke, in clear, almost accentless English. "It is all right sergeant. I am unarmed, and I promise I am no threat to you." His voice was light, almost feminine. I stared hard at him. He was no more than a kid -- I guessed 18 or 19. About the same height as me -- five-feet ten -- but skinny, probably 30 pounds less than me in weight. He had white blond hair, and a pale complexion, in contrast to my black curls and my swarthy face. With his back to the window, I could see little more. I waved him away from the window with the barrel of my M1. I didn't want him between me and the door; but the initial adrenalin rush from the situation had faded, and I suddenly felt very tired and, I don't mind admitting, pretty scared. I saw no reason why he should sit on the bed while I stood. I nodded when he reached the center of the back wall of the room, halfway between window and door. He asked, with a polite smile, "May I please put my hands down now?" My eyes locked on him, I edged round to the bed and slowly sat. "Put them on top of your head, and sit on the floor, with your legs crossed." He sighed, but did as I ordered, resting his back against the wall. Unbuckling my pack and laying it beside me, together with my helmet, I asked, "So what are you, a lookout, a deserter, what?" He smiled again. "Like you sergeant, I am simply a dislocated part of the general flotsam and jetsam of this conflict." I was in no mood for smartass comments, and stiffened. Gauging my reaction, he quickly clarified. "I am not a deserter...exactly. I am just a coward. I don't support that Austrian lunatic in Berlin, and I have no intention of dying for him. So when your patrol came upon my group I decided to take a few hours here to relax from the rigors of war. When I am ready I will go and collect my armaments and my pack from their hiding place, and return to my unit, with the cover story I have ready. At least, that was my plan." I nodded, slowly, trying to look as if I was in control of the situation. As I did, the kid began to circle his elbows, as if they were cramping up. I gestured with my rifle and said, "Okay, I guess you'd better put your hands down. But don't make any sudden moves or I might just get nervous." He smiled his thanks and lowered his arms, rubbing them. I didn't have the slightest idea how to handle this. Vacantly, I stared at my prisoner. Now the light from the window was on him, I could see his face was quite stunning. If he had been a woman, I'd have said beautiful. He had long, pale eyelashes surrounding pale blue eyes. High cheekbones, a small, thin nose, a wide mouth with full, sensuous lips, and a stubble-free pointed chin. Jesus, I thought, reflecting on my description, it was too long since I'd seen my Katie. I rubbed my hand tiredly down my face. It was only a momentary loss of concentration, but it would have been enough for the kid to jump me if he'd wanted to. But he remained in the same position, hands cupped in his lap, smiling at me with what almost seemed a sympathetic expression. I thought I had better play this by the book. Expecting the usual name, rank and serial number, I asked him, "What's your name, kid?" Still giving me that smile -- it was beginning to freak me out -- he replied, "Rainer. Rainer Hausmann. And yours?" I stared coldly at him. He shrugged nonchalantly, and continued, "So sergeant, what happens now?" "What happens now, " I told him, "is you shut up, and you sit there in silence. Until nightfall." He started to reply, but I jerked the carbine at him and he clammed up with another shrug. For nearly 10 minutes. When he spoke I was dangerously close to falling asleep. He said, "Sergeant, may I ask you something?" "What?" I snarled, angry that he might have realized how weary I felt. "Are you seriously expecting to hold me as your prisoner for the next," he checked his wristwatch, "maybe six hours, then take me back to the US lines? You can't possibly expect that plan to succeed. Do you realize how many patrols we have in this sector at night? With attack dogs. These animals are not trained to locate and restrain fugitives, sergeant, they are trained to go for the throat -- to kill. Even if I were to co-operate, and neither resist you physically nor make a sound, you would have no chance." My eyelids felt heavy, my brain dull. He was almost certainly right, but I was damned if I was going to fall into the Nazis hands when they were months, maybe weeks, from defeat. I snapped back, "No? Okay, so what do you suggest?" He shrugged simply. "Well, you could always let me go." "The hell I could," I growled, sounding like John Wayne, years before he developed his stereotypical screen persona. Rainer sat forward. I prodded my gun towards him, warningly, but he didn't ease back. "Think about it. You can't take me back with you, you're tired and isolated, and sooner or later one of our patrols will find you. On your own, you just might have a chance of making it back to your own forces. I told you I am no threat to you. I don't want to be responsible for anybody's death in this senseless slaughter. I swear to you that I will not betray you to my comrades." I couldn't think straight. I shook my head angrily. "Shut up, just shut up and sit back." He slumped back against the wall. We were silent for maybe another 10 minutes, during which time I must have glanced out the window behind me 50 times. Then Rainer asked, "Sergeant, I don't suppose you have any cigarettes you could spare?" As it happened I did have some smokes in my pack. I wasn't much of a smoker, and if it shut him up I was happy to let him have them. Watching him carefully, I dug them out, and a book of matches, and slung them across to him. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, then drew on it slowly, gratefully. I thought at least if he had that in his mouth he wouldn't say anything for a while. I was wrong. He took a long lungful of smoke, released it slowly, then said reflectively, almost as if speaking to himself, "I suppose the only other alternative is for you to kill me." I stared at him open-mouthed, amazed that he would want to put the idea in my mind. I shook my head again, and said, "Relax Rainer, I'm not gonna kill you, okay?" He gave me a long, cold look. "If you can't make it back to your lines with me, and you can't trust me not to give you away if you release me, I don't see what alternative you have." I hated to admit it, even to myself, but he had a point. As if delivering an academic lecture, he continued. "But how would you do it? The obvious way would be to shoot me. However, as I'm sure you've already realized, the sound might bring Wehrmacht patrols running, so it's a big risk. You have a knife, and that would be much quieter. You could simply come up behind me, press it to my throat, and..." Jesus! To this day I can still hear the wet gurgling noise he made to simulate the action. He went on, "But I've always felt, if a man, a real man, is to kill somebody in a one-to-one situation, he faces up to him, and looks him straight in the eye. I suppose that means stabbing me in the chest, or manual strangulation." Rainer must have seen the look of horror on my face. "Have you ever killed a man Sergeant? I don't mean just firing into a group of soldiers, or a coppice where gunfire is coming from, and knowing you may have hit someone. I mean actually walking up to another person and wilfully taking his life. I imagine it is not as easy as one might think, especially for an intelligent, civilized man. No, I think that you, like I, simply do not have it in you." Before he could continue, I bawled, "Jesus, will you for the love of Christ shut up! I'm not killing you, okay? I am a serving member of the United States Army, and unlike your side I believe in the Geneva Convention." Rainer shook his head sadly. "The Geneva Convention is for nice conventional situations. But we both know, this isn't one of those. In your circumstances, I..." "Okay, that's enough," I snapped. "Jesus, don't you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice? Now, shut the fuck up, or I swear I will beat you to death with the stock of this gun." Rainer settled back against the wall once more, his eyes cast to the ground. "Oh yes," he said quietly, "that's one I hadn't thought of." It was probably another two hours before either of us spoke again. Fighting hunger, fatigue and fear, I was desperately trying to stay awake. I recited to myself the list of US presidents, the NFL champions, family birthdays and anniversaries, my mom's recipe for maple walnut cookies... Just as I felt my eyelids droop, Rainer cleared his throat. My head jerked up. Although it was not yet dark outside, the room was pretty dim. I could see little more of my prisoner than an outline against the wall and the red glow of the tip of his latest cigarette. His voice was quiet, almost hypnotic, as he said, "Sergeant, how long is it since you've been with a woman?" That was a new one. I sat more upright on the bed, wondering what the hell he was playing at. "What?" I asked gruffly. Rainer appeared to lean forward -- the cigarette bloom moved slightly closer. "I don't mean just some backstreet whore who gives you her affection until your money or your nylons run out. Or a local village girl you've raped. No, wait, I'm forgetting, it's the Ivans who do that, isn't it, not Uncle Sam's clean-cut boys." I had never been with a whore in my life, or with any other woman since three weeks before I left the States. When it had been clear I was soon to be shipped out I got a wedding license and Katie and I married immediately. I'd had just a week with my darling before we were separated again. Although I'd fooled around in college, we'd both been virgins until our wedding night. When the other guys in my company had gone out looking for the cheap pleasures on offer from European girls reduced by the war to selling themselves in order to eat, I had stayed in camp, with my letters from my beloved wife and my bible. I'd heard guys in the john too, releasing their stress with their own hands, and I'd resisted that as well. Rainer continued his monologue. "No, I mean when was the last time you were with someone you really cared about, and who cares about you? We're both soldiers now, we know how it is. You spend every moment of every day wondering if it's your last day on earth; wondering if you will ever again be with the one you love, feel their lips on yours, their soft caress on your skin, the pleasure as you and they..." "For the last time, shut up!" I hadn't meant it to emerge as a scream, but I was dog tired, and this German kid, with his delicate body, his pretty face, his soft voice and tantalizing words, was really getting to me. Ignoring my outburst, in little more than a whisper, he said, "I know how it feels Sergeant, I feel the frustration, the isolation, too. And I can help you with it. I want to offer you a deal." I didn't understand what on earth he meant. Even if I'd wanted any woman other than my Katie, there was nothing for miles around expect bombed out farmsteads, trees, and lots of grey uniformed bastards who would kill me in an instant. Wearily, I said, "What the hell are you talking about, what goddamn deal?" The cigarette tip glowed red for a long time, as he took a deep pull on it. Then, still in that half-heard, seductive voice, he said, "If you set me free, I will help you get back to your lines. And I will let you fuck me." I leapt from the bed in a fury. "You goddamn fruit! Do I look like some kind of queer to you? I'm a married man, you little faggot. Shut up right now or I'll knock your fucking teeth down your throat." I stood shaking with rage, panting with the animation of my outburst. Rainer was unmoved by my show of anger. Taking another drag on his smoke, he said, "You can't tell me you're not just a little bit interested, Sergeant. I know I'm attractive, to both sexes. I've seen the way you've been looking at me. I've seen that look from lots of men. And I've satisfied many of them, men tired of this war, tired of being scared all the time, just looking for a little affection, a little release from the constant tension they feel. Yes, I'm a faggot, as you put it, I have been for years. But fucking me wouldn't make you one, you're just a normal man with a healthy sexual appetite needing to be satisfied. Nobody need ever know, and, believe me, you really would feel better for it." I strode over to him, grabbed him by his shirt collar, and hauled his face to within inches of mine. "Now you listen to me, and you listen good, you fucking fairy. You shut up right now, otherwise I swear to God I will shoot you, and to hell with the chance of anyone hearing." I threw him back to the ground. Rainer just crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Okay then, we wait for nightfall. Then we go, and at least one of us, probably both, gets killed." I stomped back to the bed. I couldn't remember ever feeling more furious than I did at that moment. But, as I sank back down onto the mattress, I was also scared; not of the war, this was a different kind of fear: fear of the way I was feeling. I tried to suppress, but I couldn't, the thought that, in that exact situation, if Rainer had been a female, who looked exactly like he did, offering exactly what he'd offered, at that moment I would probably have take him up on it, and worried later about the crucifying guilt I would have felt towards my sweet, beloved Katie, waiting for me back home in Omaha. I was even more scared of the fact that, as Rainer had talked, about what I was missing, and about what he had to offer, my body had reacted in ways I couldn't control, my cock slowly stiffening in my pants, to the extent that if he'd reached out and grabbed it when I was close to him I just might have had trouble pushing his hand away. I sat miserably trying to think about happier times, with my mom and dad, my brother and sisters, Katie... The fire in the grate at home radiated warmth towards me. Katie was beside me. Gently she stroked my hair from my forehead...I awoke with a start. Jesus! Lord only knew how long I'd been asleep. I realized with a shock that a warm hand, with long, slim fingers, really was stroking my forehead. Groggily I glanced sideways, at a beautiful face, creased with concern for me. In shock I brushed Rainer's hand away, and muttered, "Get away from me, you fairy." He sat back, but remained inches from me on the bed. I realized with horror that my rifle was nowhere to be seen. I reached for my knife, to find it was also gone. Rainer placed a hand on my shoulder, as if to reassure me. "It's okay, I put them in a safe place. I'll get them for you before we leave here. Look, I've got you some food from my pack. It's only cheese and bread, but I've made us coffee as well." I stared at the food in bewilderment. I glanced out of the window. It was night. The heat I had felt came from a small fire he had built in the middle of the room. He'd actually left the room, hidden my weapons, and gathered together the makings of a fire. Why hadn't he killed me? Why, at the very least, hadn't he taken his chance to escape? I glanced again at the food. God, but I was hungry. Putting aside my questions, and my unease at the change in the situation, I fell on the food, guzzled the coffee greedily. Spoils of War It's amazing how good stale bread, rancid cheese and bitter ersatz coffee can taste when you're desperate. After ten minutes I slumped back against the wall below the window, still bemused at the situation. I looked at Rainer. He smiled at me, almost shyly. I asked him, in disbelief, "Why are you doing this? Why are you still here?" He cast his eyes down, and shrugged. "I feel that we've connected, Clayton." So he'd gone through my things as well, found my name. I noticed he'd removed the equipment from the bed we now both occupied. His eyes returned to my face. "I couldn't just leave you here like that, asleep and vulnerable. Besides, I'm scared too, I feel that I need some warmth. I offered you a deal -- remember?" I stared into the fire, my hands clasped between my legs. At that moment I felt terrified, more so than at any time in the two years-plus I'd been in the European theatre of war. I wasn't what he was, I was bigger than him, stronger. I could have broken him with one hand. But as he edged closer to me, and began to stroke my hair again, I shuddered with emotion. Electricity sparked from his fingers and raced through my body. I couldn't believe what I was about to do -- yet I was powerless to stop myself. I felt his arm sake across my shoulders, pulling me towards him. His mouth was very close to my ear: I could feel his warm breath on my skin. He whispered, "Kiss me." I turned my head towards him, to say something, I don't know what. Before I could speak, his lips were on mine, his hand at the back of my head, pushing me onto him. He had no beard whatsoever, and his kiss felt as soft as that of any girl I'd ever known. I felt his tongue flicker against my lips, pass along them, press between them. I wanted to pull away, but...God forgive me, I parted my lips and allowed his tongue to enter my mouth. Both his arms wrapped around me as his tongue raked my mouth, and stroked along the length of my own tongue. I could taste the acrid tobacco he'd been smoking. Shamefully, I closed my eyes and gave myself fully to the kiss, my arms slowly encircling him too. It was the first intimate contact I'd had with any other human being since I'd kissed Katie goodbye so long ago, and my cock was painfully erect in my pants. Even though he was lighter than me, Rainer used his weight to press me down onto the bed, until he was lying full length on top of me. I knew then, beyond any shadow of doubt, that I was going to betray my wife, my faith, and everything I believed in: I was going to fuck this beautiful young German boy. One of Rainer's hands slipped down my body, to my fly. He increased the pressure of his kissing as, fumblingly, his fingers unbuttoned me, one by one. I groaned involuntarily as his hand wrapped around my throbbing cock. Without breaking the kiss, he muttered, "Mmm, it's big." Then he dipped down the bed. A moment later I groaned again as I felt his lips close over me. Only one girl had ever done that to me -- not my sweet Katie -- and she'd had none of the skill of this man. His tongue swirled around and around my dick, from the tip to the stem, while his lips massaged my length. He released it from his mouth for a moment, and licked and sucked my balls as he slowly pumped my cock with his hand. I heard him murmur, "What a beautiful, big uncut prick you have." Then his mouth descended on it again, his lips stroking up and down me, one hand squeezing my balls in time to his lips, the other continuing to pump the root of my dick. I curled my hands in his blond hair, pulling him onto me more firmly. I held off for as long as I could; but finally, my eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears rolling down my face, bucking and gasping, I erupted my jizz deep into his mouth. I found myself sobbing with emotional release. Rainer continued to suck at my cock for a while, and his hand found its way between the buttons of my shirt, massaging my belly as my tremors subsided. Then he rose back up the bed and kissed me on the cheek, hugging me to him, whispering, "It's okay Clayton, you're fine, you really needed that." He stroked my hair and gently rocked me, like a mother comforting her child after a nightmare. Then he kissed me on the lips again, and I actually sucked his tongue into my mouth. I could taste a salty residue on it, which I knew was the taste of my release. I momentarily felt a letdown in the aftermath of my orgasm. My cock was still semi-erect, but, having gone so far I had determined I was actually going to screw Rainer. In the state I was in, wracked with emotion and physically and mentally exhausted, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get hard enough again. My German lover wasn't finished with me though. Still kissing me, he reached down and unbuckled my pants. Then he disengaged from me and moved down the bed, pulling them and my shorts down to my ankles. Jesus, I lifted my ass to help him. When he lay on top of me again, I realized that he had removed his pants altogether. His cool, slim thighs rested on mine; and a long, thin cock brushed my own. I glanced down his body, and in the low light provided by the moon and the fire, I saw the two pale half-moons of his shapely buttocks. As we continued to kiss, stroking each other's hair, hugging each other close, Rainer began to twitch his hips from side to side, rubbing our cocks together. I could feel that we were both rapidly stiffening. Surrendering myself totally to the situation, I reached my arms down and grabbed one of Rainer's ass cheeks in each hand, pushing him more firmly against me. He gasped into my mouth, and murmured, "Oh ja, liebchen". He reached his hand down, and stroked his fingertips up my dick, causing me to gasp. Then he gave me a small smile and whispered, "I think it's time Clayton." He slipped off me and knelt on the floor, his arms across the bed, his ass sticking out. With a smile and a flick of his head, he indicated I should move behind him. My mind reeling, I did so, and gazed at his slim, taut buttocks, very pale with a red sheen from the firelight, smooth and hairless. It could just as easily have been the ass of a girl. I felt hampered by my pants, and quickly untied my boots and kicked them off, leaving us both naked from the waist down, other than socks. Then I shuffled between his open legs, my knees cold on the stone floor, my thighs warm from their contact with Rainer's. I gripped his hips, and he reached a hand round and took my shaft, guiding it between his cheeks. Then I twitched my hips forward and began to push into him. He groaned with pleasure as I sank into him to the hilt, my balls pressed to his cheeks, my thighs hard against him. My fingers bit into the flesh of his hips as I began to fuck him with a slow, steady rhythm, grunting with each hard, deep thrust I made. His ass was quite tight, and very warm, cocooning my straining dick. As I screwed him he muttered, over and over, "Oh ja Clayton, gut, fuck me." One of his hands had slipped from the bed, and I saw he was stroking his own balls. Not even thinking about what I was doing, I reached around him and grabbed his cock in my hand, stroking it steadily and firmly. With my other hand I pulled him hard to me, both the speed and power of my thrusts increasing as I came closer to climax. My grunts began to sound more like sobs as I made my last few strokes then, with a roar of frustration uncorked, I slammed into him for a last time and filled his ass with my juice. Moments later I felt a warm, sticky fluid flood over the fingers of my hand which had been pumping his dick. He sighed and I slumped forward on top of him, my hand still around his warm cock. My other hand rested on his on the bed, our fingers intertwined. I closed my eyes, actually feeling pleasure in the sensation of the smooth, soft skin of his buttocks resting against me. It was light when I woke. We were lying on the bed, covered by a thin gray military blanket which must have come from Rainer's pack. My lower half was still naked. Rainer was lying behind me, pressed to my back. One of his hands was inside my shirt, his fingers curled in my chest hair. His other hand was similarly entangled, but in my pubic bush. His cock rested between my ass cheeks. My ass felt stretched and damp, and I realized he must have fucked me during the night. I couldn't remember whether I'd been awake and co-operated. I reached a hand back and brushed his hip. He twitched, then leaned up on one elbow, smiled and whispered, "Good morning Clayton." I rolled onto my back on the narrow bed and, way beyond shame or embarrassment, allowed him to kiss me deeply, my arms pulling him tight to me. Then he said, "Okay, so now we get you back to your unit safely." The next two hours was possibly the tensest time of my entire life. Rainer led the way through old, dead forest, each of us stepping carefully, pausing each time a twig snapped under our feet, our breath freezing in our lungs. Finally, we reached a drop down from the forest onto a road. I thought we would have to double back, then we heard the rumble of a tank around the bend fifty yards up the road. We fell to our bellies on the soft grass, watching nervously. The vehicle rounded the corner, a number of infantrymen walking edgily beside it. I allowed myself a huge sigh of relief -- they were US Army Rangers, and a slightly tattered Stars and Stripes hung limply from the turret of the vehicle. I turned to Rainer, and told him, "It's not too late for you to come with me. You'll be treated humanely in a PoW camp, and you'll be out of the war, away from dodging bullets." He smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, but I think I'll take my chances with freedom for now. Goodbye, my Clayton. I will not forget you." Then he reached an arm around my shoulders, pulled me to him, and we kissed deeply, our tongues intertwining. We reluctantly pulled apart, and I glanced again at the approaching troops. When I turned back, Rainer was gone. In 1947 I received a letter at home one day, with a German stamp. I tore it open, assuming it would be from one of my buddies posted to Berlin. When I saw the letter inside I froze, then my hand began to shake. I read it slowly. "Dearest Clayton, well, I survived the Austrian's madness, and here I am making a name for myself. I truly hope that you also survived, and are now reading my words. There are lots of pretty GIs here in Berlin, so I am making plenty of new friends! But Clayton, I am now serious. I said I would not forget you, and that was true. My happiest memory of the recent conflict -- if happiness out of such an event is possible -- is the night we spent together, in each other's arms. If you ever are in Berlin, please look me up. I would love to show you my city, and relive our brief time together. Take care, liebchen, and have a happy life. Auf wiedersehen, Your Rainer. X" I didn't reply, and never visited Germany, but I did see him once more. It was in the 1960s, on a local cable channel, late at night -- Katie had gone to bed hours earlier. It was a British talk show, presented by David Frost. The Brits had legalised homosexuality a month or so earlier, and 'infamous Berlin cabaret artiste Rainer Hausmann' was one of the guests. He came on dressed in a frilly pink outfit, his blond hair as long as a woman's, his face caked in make-up, long earrings dangling from his lobes. He was still slim, and I could see through the grease on his face that he still looked youthful -- that he was still beautiful. I never had another intimate relationship with a man, and never felt any desire for one. Katie and I were happy every day of our married lives together. In the weeks after cancer took her I dreamt about her a lot, my beautiful young Katie. Recently, though, the dreams have changed. I still find myself kissing and caressing, my arousal evident as I prepare to make love. But as my lover's face withdraws from mine, it's not Katie I see anymore: it's a beautiful blond German boy, who whispers, "Kiss me. Fuck me." Spoils of War Author's note : First, I hope you enjoy reading this. I'm very interested in any feedback anyone has for me so please leave a comment or get in touch with any thoughts you have on what is good and what could be done better. All votes and comments are much appreciated. Author's Note II : I have recently begun scribbling some stories again and in advance of submitting new material I've been revising all my previous stories. If anyone notices the difference in this story I hope they like it and leave a comment or send me a note to tell me about it but if by chance anyone misses the previous version, get in touch and I can get you a copy of the original. Many thanks to the wonderful kjplotts for editing this for me! * "Is that man supposed to look like that?" Morden moved aside so his chief torturer could peer through the iron bars of the cell door. She threw back her head and laughed. "Ah yes," she said. "That's one of my special projects. Just for my personal amusement. Don't worry, I made sure he had no potential use before I began his... conditioning." Morden kept his face carefully blank and continued his inspection. Katarina had what from one perspective could be called a gift and from another might be described as a mental problem. Morden had found her in one of his enemy's prisons and instantly seen the role she could serve. Her skill at extracting information, bending prisoners' wills to serve the kingdom and general sadism was extraordinary. In return she only asked for a few of the prisoners to be given to her as playthings. The floor of the tunnel was covered in filth of uncertain origin. Morden knew she had arranged this deliberately, as this level of the castle was pristine when he gave her it to create her dungeon. They walked past more cells, saw more men and women in various forms of agony and despair. Some screamed, some could only moan out something that was fast approaching a death rattle. Beyond the last cell the corridor opened out. The floor in the centre of the room had been lowered into an oval. "This is my favourite torment," she said. A banquet was set on a table. Half a dozen malnourished prisoners huddled at the edges of the ring. Between them two demon hounds were chained to the table. They were visions of hell itself, with raw red flesh that hung loosely from their bodies and eyes filled with fire. "This group has only been there for a few days," she said. "It will be a week before the hunger gets too much and the first one tries to get to the food." Morden looked down at the miserable souls in front of him. "After that the fun really begins," she continued. Morden noticed her hand had slid between her legs as she spoke. Katarina never wore clothes while in her lair. "Once they have seen what happens, they will begin to fight among themselves. When the hunger gets too much to bear, they will try sacrificing one another to give themselves time to raid the table. And after that fails, they will start to consider feasting on each other." "I trust you have taken precautions with those demons," he said. "Yes of course," she replied. "The hounds don't have any real mind of their own but they are completely bound to that area and are contracted not to harm anyone in your service." Morden nodded absently. He was going to have to get rid of her if she got any worse than this; as useful as she was, she was getting too erratic to safely keep around. The war would be over in the coming months and after that, it would be easier to get rid of her. A young lieutenant in his army bustled into the room and abruptly came to a halt as he saw the bizarre scene. Morden looked at him expectantly. "My liege," he said gleefully. "We have captured them." * * * The heavy iron door slammed behind Morden as he strode into the dungeon. The years of conflict had been worthwhile just for this moment. The stone-walled room was windowless. Light was provided by torches in brackets lining the walls. It lay at the deepest level of his castle, several hundred feet below the ground. Iron had been painstakingly latticed across every surface to create a perfect magical vacuum. The perfect prison for a beaten warlock. Morden surveyed his fallen rival with satisfaction. "You should have taken my offer years ago, Pavon. Now look what you have brought upon yourself." Pavon, shackled to the wall with heavy manacles, ignored him. "I'm glad they caught you alive though. I wouldn't want you to miss the consummation of the union between our lands." Morden let his glance wander to the room's other occupant and laughed as Pavon struggled hopelessly against the thick black chains. In the centre of the room, a block of black marble in the shape of a Y rose several feet off the ground. Initially, he had asked Katarina to provide a suitable apparatus to restrain a woman for coitus. Her ideas of what was suitable had both astonished and dismayed him. She had offered to provide alternatives after he politely refused her initial suggestion but he had thought it best to conjure his own. A young woman lay on it, legs splayed down the forked ends, chained at the ankles and wrists and bereft of any clothing. Morden trailed his hand along her toned leg as he walked around her. She had the same deep brown eyes and light brown hair as her father but her olive complexion must have come from her mother. Her figure was graced with full, fertile curves and her face was a vision of aristocratic beauty. "What do you think, Alexa? Should your father have taken my offer and spared you from this?" "No offer you make can be trusted," she said. She met his gaze steadily but the tremble in her voice betrayed her fear. Morden laughed again. "You recite his mindless slogans well," he said. "He must be very proud. Do you think he will still be proud when you are my Queen? When you bear my heirs?" They both remained impassive but he didn't care. Having them at his mercy was reward enough. Morden and Pavon had known each other all their lives. Their families owned neighbouring kingdoms. They had studied at the Academy at the same time. They had even ascended to their respective thrones within a year of each other. Pavon was a fool. Always had been. Morden had known he was the better man when he was fifteen years old and had spent most of the intervening period plotting the conquest of his neighbour's kingdom. If genetics had been kind to Morden, inheritance had been kind to Pavon. Morden ruled a kingdom barely half the size of his rival's and with fewer resources. He hadn't let logistics curb his ambition though. After years of planning, he had launched his assault and within six months had achieved an unassailable advantage in the war. The idiot didn't surrender. Pavon's position was hopeless and everyone but he knew it. The outcome of the war could not be changed, but his stubborn refusal to see sense had dragged it out for six years and ravaged the kingdom he thought he was protecting. All the while he had locked himself away performing hare-brained experiments and dabbling with any dark art he could find, searching in vain for a way to fight back. None of that mattered anymore. Morden had him now. Him and his precious daughter. Alexa was an unexpected bonus. Morden had no idea how Pavon managed to find a woman prepared to bear him a child and he knew he lacked the spine to take one by force. The Princess was hugely popular among her people and her family. She served as Pavon's chief lieutenant during the war and acquitted herself far better than he had. Now Morden would take her as his Queen. After he subdued her will, it would be a great boon in his efforts to solidify his hold on his new territory to have the peasants beloved Princess acknowledge his rule. He shed his clothes, smirking as he heard Alexa's breathing quicken. Exultant, he stepped between her splayed legs. Morden was harder than he had ever been, drunk with lust, power and victory. He ran the tip of his cock up and down her slit. Alexa closed her eyes but he heard her moan softly and he could feel her wetness. He grinned broadly. This was one final victory he had not expected. He thrust inside her. A cry escaped his lips as his cock was plunged up to the hilt in young, tight pussy. It felt fantastic to be encased in her warmth. Pausing for a moment, he looked up her flat stomach, over her delectable breasts and into her closed eyes. "Are you enjoying the fruits of your labour, your highness?" he whispered. "Very much," she purred. She opened her eyes. Actually, she opened her eyelids. Her eyes were gone. What the fuck? Morden recoiled as he saw the black pools where her striking eyes had been. Instinctively, he threw himself backwards but he ended up snapping forward on top of her. He stood up and realised with horror he couldn't pull his cock out of her. "You're not going anywhere," she said. He continued to struggle but her tight opening clung fast to his girth. Inside her pussy he felt something thin and pointed tap against his cock. It ran across the head of his cock until it met his opening. Morden shrieked as he felt something shoot down the inside of his cock. Alexa moaned contentedly. "Look, my King," she said. A circle of energy shimmered between them, turning silver and then showing a close up of their locked genitals. Impossible! No magic was possible in this room. Only a demon could perform magic here. Before his eyes the view changed, somehow showing him first his cock inside her pussy and then the interior of his cock. A venomous green tendril had wedged itself inside. As he watched, it forked in two and he felt two sharp jabs as both ends found their way into his balls. The circle vanished again. What the fuck was happening? "What you see is the mostly deadly toxin on this plane of existence," she said. "My energy is holding it in place. If I were to die, it would immediately enter your body. You might have enough time to scream but not for very long." * * * Pavon looked on with sadness. Several months ago, he had seen at last the final defeat of his forces. Pushed back into the valley surrounding his keep, there was nothing more that could be done. All his experiments had failed him and it was only a matter of time until the noose closed around him. On that day she had come to him with a plan. Sweet Alexa, his only child. It had broken his heart to hear her offer. She knew Morden would plan to make her his Queen, so she would open herself to demonic possession in exchange for her demon killing him. He refused to consider it but she had spent many hours convincing him that it was their only hope and at last he had relented. It brought him no joy to see their plan work. * * * The chains binding her to the stone snapped. Black pools of infinite depth stared into his eyes as she sat up in front of him. Try as he might he couldn't pull himself out of her pussy. Gathering his strength, he stepped away from the altar and ran at the nearest wall. Her arms flew around his neck. They slammed into the stone but his cock remained trapped. "Oh, you want to play rough?" she asked. He tried again but all he managed to do was make himself swoon with pleasure as the jolting against the wall caused her pussy to contract around his cock. "You can save your life," said Pavon. "I will allow you to live in return for your throne." "You must be addled," he scoffed. Who did he think he was kidding? Morden wasn't about to be denied victory by a bit of demonic trickery in the closing moments of a victory he had worked decades for. The mouth of her pussy squeezed at the base of his cock. For a fleeting moment, he thought she might release him but his hopes were dashed as rippling contractions massaged his cock. It felt divine. He knew it wasn't. New fear gripped him as he realised he couldn't escape her vice and couldn't stop himself orgasming if she wanted him to. What would happen if he did? Would the toxin kill him? Even if it didn't, ejaculating into a demon was certain death. "You're more useful to me alive than dead," said Pavon. "But I'm quite happy either way." Alexa kicked against the wall and spun him around. He slumped backward. Planting her feet flat against the wall and somehow clinging on, spider-like, she began to move her hips back and forth. Hope filled him again but he quickly realised his foolishness. Even as she slid down his cock until only her plush pussy lips kissed his tip, the tendril remained locked inside him. She slid forward and the wet heat surged down his cock. She slid back, all the way off and he ached to be back inside. An indescribable feeling shot through him as the tendril tugged at his insides as she rocked back, drawing his hips with it. Great Gods, it felt good. "I will only ask once. Release me and give me the access word to your fortress and I will let you live." Morden was struggling to think coherently. She literally had him on a string. All he knew was he mustn't cum inside her. "I accept your deal," he gasped out as she continued to rock back and forth. Alexa paused mid thrust. Morden moaned at the cessation of her delicious torment. "The access word?" "Ronokaifriskel." "Release my bonds please," Pavon said to Alexa. Ribbons of black fire arced from her fingernails and disintegrated the manacles that bound him. Pavon stretched his weary muscles and walked over to where Morden stood slumped against the wall with Alexa crouched against him, maintaining her death grip on his cock. "You are an arrogant fool, Morden. You disgust me." Turning away from them, he strode to the dungeon's iron door. "Pavon!" shouted Morden. "Release me!" Pavon turned to face him. "You shouldn't trust any offer I make." The door swung back and Pavon backed up into the corridor. The torches sputtered and died as he waved a hand at them. "Have fun with him." Morden saw the contempt in his enemy's face as the doors swung back and plunged them into darkness. He couldn't see a damn thing. He could feel her though, the taut legs pressed against his sides, the heavenly pussy enveloping half his cock. Soft moans floated around the room and her intoxicating scent surrounded him. "We can make a deal," he said. "Unlikely." Oh Gods. She started thrusting her hips again. A slow, luxurious down stroke till her hairless mons met his pubic hair and then the tortuous upstroke where she slid right back so the tendril linking their inner parts stretched taut and he shuddered with forbidden pleasure. As she pulled back, the brilliant green venom cast some hellish illumination on her perfect form. "I rule this kingdom! I can get you weekly sacrifices. Daily sacrifices!" "I have a contract to fulfil," she said. Her voice was sinister in the darkness. Morden couldn't believe how slowly she was teasing him; he felt like he was made of jelly already. "I'll offer you a better contract, I have access to many things, many people. Anything you want." "Breaking a contract is frowned upon among my kind." Sharp fingernails stroked his chest as panic and arousal quickened his breathing. "I can help you subjugate them. I have many warlocks under my command; you could be Queen of your realm." She sank right down on him and arched her back, her hot breath tickling his face. "Your offer is tempting," she whispered. "But the hatred this host has for you is beautiful, and it would be a sin to deny its vengeance." Her hips moved against him again. More forcefully now. It couldn't end like this! Not on the cusp of his triumph! Morden blinked rapidly as light returned to the room. It took him several seconds to work out what it was. The deep pools where Alexa's eyes had been were sparkling as she thrust faster and faster. Muscles squeezed up and down his cock. "Please," he whispered. The sparkle of those soulless eyes filled his world as his legs shook and he felt the spasm of orgasm begin. Nothing happened. Pulses flared through his groin but no blissful release came with it. Weariness overcame him and he slumped to the ground. Alexa fell with him. He could just make her out in the gloom, lit only by the spark of her dead eyes. His cock was still lodged inside her as he lay on his back. Strong arms wrapped round his back and pulled him into a sitting position. Lithe legs followed suit and locked around his ass. Soft breasts flattened against his chest as erect nipples rubbed against him. "Your ejaculation is blocked by my poison," she whispered to him. "It's so much more satisfying to build you up till you burst." Something brushed against his puckered anus but he barely had the energy to squirm away from its touch. "Ssshh," she soothed, fingers massaging his back. Having found its mark another tendril slipped inside his ass and latched onto his prostate. "Please don't kill me," he whimpered. Lush lips pressed into his. Alexa gently started to rock her hips. Great Gods. It was too good. An agile, hot tongue pressed through his lips and wrapped around his own, squeezing gently. Morden was close to hyperventilating as her pussy suddenly got hotter and squeezed tighter. Her pussy walls seemed to wind themselves around his cock and unwind again in a delicious shifting friction. "Please," he begged but the words were lost in her mouth. She moaned through her kiss and he felt climax approach again, felt scorching juices trickle down his balls from her arousal and once again felt the spurts of climax be held off by her dark arts. Her eyes shone brighter, casting diabolical shadows of their coupling on the walls of the dungeon. Morden shook uncontrollably, helplessly flailing inside her full body embrace as another orgasm tried to escape his captive cock. This time there was no respite, his cock kept pulsing and his muscles seized forcefully as the pleasure his failing ejaculations promised stayed just out of reach. Alexa rocked faster, gripped him tighter. The first sensation was the tendril inside his cock withdrawing. The sudden release of tension that had been stretching his innards made his whole body jangle. Then the tendril in his ass sent electrifying pulses through his prostate. Morden came at last. Her whole body squeezed rhythmically around him, pulling an ecstatic blast of cum from him each time. A dizziness overtook him. The eyes in front of him were suddenly glowing white. Something was sucking on his insides, every nerve lit up with an alien, tugging feeling. He felt a ripping in his fingers and toes as the ties mooring his body and soul began to fray and then he had a last blissful eruption as a vast rushing, cracking roar filled his ears as the snapping accelerated and raced towards his core and his last sensations were jerking free of his earthly body and being sucked into her through his mouth and cock. * * * Pavon retired to his private chambers as soon as he had received the pledges of all Morden's lieutenants. They hadn't taken much persuading; Morden was not a popular man. It felt good to go to bed with the knowledge there was no war to fight in the morning. Years of perseverance had paid off. The toll had been heavy but the future was ripe with potential. His heart was lighter than it had been for months as he slid under the silk sheets of the royal bed. Yes, the future was definitely bright. Pavon had almost drifted off to sleep when he felt a tug on the sheets. Ignoring it, he tried to return to the peaceful slumber that he'd been moving towards. Soft flesh slithered across him as a lithe body draped itself over him. Feminine curves pressed into him and a warm, soft hand gripped his cock. Spoils of War "You should have thought about more protection clauses in the contract," a sultry, familiar voice whispered in his ear. Spoils of War The war had ended, forcing the town into a frenzy of partying and cheer. The weather remained warm and the streets were packed with people. The smell of expensive tobacco and cheap perfume permeated the Captain's nose. He smiled. Warriors filled every alleyway and the drinking pubs had spilled their patrons from outside of their doors, onto the streets, due to the large crowds. Scantily clad spoils of wars accompanied many soldiers. The women stood on the side lines, as their new owners drank and gambled their money away. Captain Rax had pushed through the crowds of celebrators and made his way to the door of his first in command. He knocked and waited. "What's up, Sir?" Lieutenant Kreg had asked when he opened the door. "Up for some drinking and a game of poker?" 'Tired of your spoils already, Captain?" he laughed. "Yeah. I'm not really thrilled with any that I brought home. Gave them all away, actually. They were good for one use, but I must have chosen every combative women there was left in that damn village. I'm looking to go to the poker game tonight, take in some cash, and find a sweet girl to lick my balls while I do it." "Want to go the glass tables?" Kreg asked. "Yea," Rax replied, "Let's do it. I like seeing all of them lick together." As Kreg closed the door behind him, he commented, "I feel the same way. I used up all my spoils, but I need a woman that feel like home. If ya know what I mean, Captain." "I do," he laughed. As the two arrived at the gambling field, they saw the six glass tables packed with poker players. Rax looked over at the cages of woman that no soldiers claimed during the end of war. He saw what he wanted. He pointed out his woman to the Cage Master and placed his order. "You always go for the bargain, don't you, Captain. I hate to tell you those inexperienced chicks never suck cock right. Remember last week when that one ran her teeth over you?" 'Don't remind me. I like this one," he said, pointing her out to him. "That shy one all the way back in the cage? The one with the dark hair?" Kreg asked. 'Yeah, I like her and I like a mouth that's never been used. Plus, they are cheaper and the lines are shorter." "That's cos when men pay good money for head, they want good head, Captain. A mouth that has never been used does not know what to do." 'Ahh. I'm not paying full-price for a used up whore. Look at her. She has that pleasing look in her eyes. See how she looked at me? None of them look at you in the eye. She looked me in the eye." "Suit yourself, Captain. I ain't even ordering tonight. Just going to pull on it while all of you men get sucked. I'm fucked out." Captain Rax laughed, "We all need a rest once in a while. Hey look. A new table is opening up." Rax was happy to have gotten the head seat the table. The table was long, clean and shiny and sat twenty-five men. He had always enjoyed the glass tables. It was a site to see. Women would crawl in between the legs of every man playing poker. They would suck and lick as the games began. It was a challenge to keep your money and make the correct bet if you became too excited. Rax lit his cigar and smiled at Kreg as the first hand was dealt. It went quickly and Rax opened his hands as his winnings were pushed toward him. "Lucky night, Captain," Kreg laughed. "I hope as hell," he answered back. A big-titted waitress came over, delivered the mugs of beer to the men, and bent over Rax to empty out the ashtrays of cigars and cigarettes off the table. As she did, Captain Rax, pulled the little tie on her bikini top, causing her huge tits to fall out. She giggled as Kreg winked to the Captain and untied her bottom, exposing her fat ass and shaved pussy mound. Although Kreg said he was tired, the Captain grinned as he watched his friend nibble on her fat, round ass. Rax grunted and moved his mouth to her erect nipples and began sucking. She gently swayed her body as the men used their mouth on her body. Rax moved his mouth between her two tits, licking and sucking. He pulled on her nipples, stretching them out and snapping back in place, as the server moaned. It wasn't often that one had the opportunity to see a fully dressed server. In all the years Rax had been coming to the glass tables, it was the first he had been given the opportunity of undressing one. Usually, they were already used by other men, and Rax had never liked that. Used meat was never for him. Rax looked over, as Kreg licked on the server's ass. He laughed to himself knowing his first in command must have been hard as rock and ready to fuck. Rax pushed the server's breast together and sucked madly on her nipples, moving his mouth from one hard nipple then to the other. The view in his peripheral vision caught his eye. He saw them. Twenty-five girls, all leashed and primped to serve, stood to the side of the table. The Cage Master had them on their knees, as he pulled on their leashes. They were dressed in their normal, white tunic attire and Rax looked for the one he had purchased. Rax licked his lips. The Cage Master spoke to them in his gruff voice, and they began to crawl to the table they were to serve. They looked like a brood of dogs with long hair and pretty lips. They scurried toward the cocks they would serve. Captain Rax grinned when he saw his girl. As the women made their way under the glass tables, the sound of zippers and moans filled the air. Rax watched as the men released their cocks. The cocks dangled, excited for the warm mouths that would be upon them. He saw two women at the other end of the table hungrily lick on their men and Captain Rax knew the next hand in poker would be his. In his opinion, nothing beat the glass tables. He really didn't care about the money, because to watch all the cock sucking was worth what he may lose in poker. The Captain's purchase crawled under the glass table and in between his legs. He bent over at his waist and looked at the girl he had just brought. Again, she looked him in the eye. He grinned and asked, "What's your name?" "Liv, sir," she replied. He liked that she called him sir. He smiled at her again. Her hair was so dark and her eyes were hazel-green. It had been a long time since he had noticed a woman's eyes. He was not sure what was so special about hers, but he liked them. Rax undid the buttons on his pants and let his hard cock fall out, "Suck my cock, Liv" he said, as he moved his face back up to the table and his mouth back onto the server's big tits. Rax hungrily sucked on the server, as the bitch between his legs starting licking. All of a sudden, he became very aware of his cock, removed his mouth from the server's tits and looked into the glass. He felt her tongue running the rim of his cock and he was aware that he was already dripping. He thought he heard her moan, but the noise from the others was so loud. "Suck it good, Liv," he shrieked. Her tongue swirled all around his head and then swallowed on his cock. Liv took him deep. She has a whore tongue, he thought. He looked over and saw Kreg's cock out of his pants. The server kept pushing her tits closer to Rax, but he wanted to look down at the woman in between his legs. He gently pushed the server back. He watched, as she lost her balance and fell right on top of Kreg's cock. As Liv licked his cock, he saw Kreg scrambled to position his cock into the server's pussy hole. Kreg put his hands on her waist and pushed her up and down on his fat cock. Rax grinned as her big tits bounced up and down. He looked back down at the woman sucking his cock. Rax moaned louder, as he spread his legs wider. He looked down the table at all of the others getting sucked off. He spread his legs wider, as Liv attacked his balls with her hungry mouth. Further ,he opened his legs, and pushed himself back. "Nice," Kreg grunted while the server rode his cock, "she's going to lick your ass, Captain." He opened his even legs wider, as the other men that were being sucked started to notice the woman in between his legs. 'Oh, lick, bitch!" the Captain screamed, as her mouth and tongue went from his cock to his balls and then played in the crack of his ass. "Oh yeah, Captain," he heard a man say, as Liv tongue moved closer to his hole. The Captain opened his legs wider, giving the bitch total access to his ass and balls. Her tongue moved in between his cheeks and played with his hole. She nibbled on his ass cheeks and the Captain knew he may spew his load any second. Suddenly, her wet tongue slid inside of him, and then back out. He heard a few men holler. Back to the head of his cock her mouth went, and then she slid her tongue back into his hole. "Oh, you bitch," the Captain screamed, unable to look at anyone else now except the whore in between his legs. Still further, he opened his legs as her tongue went deeper inside of him. "Oh bitch. Lick me good. Lick, bitch. Lick!" he moaned. "Oh yeah, Captain," Kreg moaned, " You should see this end. Her puss hole is dripping, and she is squeaking like a little mouse, as she licks you. This bitch is dripping all over herself from sucking cock. "Oh yeah. Lick you hungry whore," Rax blurted. "Lick the Captain, girl," he heard a man blurt out. 'Oh yeah, Captain, look at her," another yelled. As her tongue went in and out of his ass, he heard the other men groaning. He was going to buy her tonight and take her home. "Mmmm," Kreg said to the server riding on his cock, "See where that whore's tongue is? See it going in and out of him? See, that bitch?" Kreg said, while moving his cock in between the cheeks of server's ass. She screamed, as he opened her ass with his hardness. "See?" Kreg said again, "she is licking him where my cock is going in you. Do you feel that?" The server screamed again, as Kreg pushed his prick deep into her ass. Her big tits bounced as she screamed and cried from cock in her ass. Unable to hold it any longer, Captain Rax's load shot off, as Liv's tongue moved in and out of him. His load spewed up onto the glass. He saw others shooting out their seed. The poker game, like it always did, came to a halt. No one was betting. So many girls wore the mark of satisfaction. He looked back down at Liv and watched his load drip from the glass onto her dark hair. She moved her mouth to the glass and started eating his cum. He watched her pink tongue roll over the glass, picking up his load. Her tongue moved like a puppy's, getting every drop. "Oh, you little whore," he whispered, as her tongue swirled underneath the glass. He has never seen anything so erotic. He thought she liked it. Her tongue pressed against the glass, cleaning it. He heard more moans from the other men. His cock was growing again from watching this bitch clean his seed from the glass. He briefly looked down the table and saw some of the women dripping in gooey cum. He no longer cared about them. He was unable to stop watching his girl. She was still cleaning the glass. Reaching underneath the table, he grabbed Liv by the hair and pushed his cock into her mouth. "Clean me. Clean that cock." His dick started pulsating. Livs face was covered in his cum from licking it off of the glass. He reached underneath the table and ran his fingers over her messy face. He scooped up his cum, as she hungrily licked on his fingers. "Oh, you got a keeper there, Captain." Kreg moaned, as he pushed the server off of his cock. He moved her to her knees. 'Fuck ya, I'm buying this bitch and bringing her home. I need to fuck her." "Bet you won't make it home," Kreg laughed, as he shot his load over the server. The Captain could not take his eyes off of Liv. He pulled on her leash and brought her out from underneath the table. The cum-covered girl came out from underneath the table and kneeled by his chair. Yes, he thought. I like her eyes. She looked at him. The Captain smiled down at her. "Night, Kreg," he mumbled, as he pulled on her leash. He was going to pay the Cage Master and take her home. He thought he may have a keeper. He felt his cock getting harder, as she crawled by his feet toward the booth. He made his monetary transaction with the owner and looked down at her. He knew he could not wait. He pulled out his tool and rubbed his cock all over her face. He watched as she put her ass in the air. Kreg was right, he thought. I'm not able to wait. He moved behind her. He pulled on her leash and positioned her. He pushed her tunic up. Her lips were swollen. They glistened with juice. She was ready. He slipped his cock from behind into the bitch's pussy hole. She squealed with every thrust. He fucked her at the buying booth.