0 comments/ 37880 views/ 2 favorites The Prisoner By: svanswords So I got caught. Big deal. It was my "first offence", and I got a good lawyer. The bigger crime was that I only got two years. Rapists usually get much longer, but as I said, I got a good lawyer. Anyway they want me to write about the experiment. My god I'm getting a boner just thinking about it. It started when the doctor was giving me a check up. He asked if I wanted to participate in a little study they were working on. He said it might involve having sex under laboratory conditions. I was concerned that I get laughed at. He assured me nobody else would know, so I asked what they wanted me to do. I never turn down sex. He told me that his other job was with a drug testing company. They had developed a new anti-impotence drug and needed people to test it on. The prison would allow me to be a "lab rat" and it might even help my parole chances. The test would involve me taking the drug and then having intercourse as many times as I could manage so that they could determine if the dosage was correct. At this point he assured me that the sex would be with female prisoners, mostly call girls. I would have to perform first without the drug for comparison purposes. I nearly bit his hand off I excepted so quick. As I said, I don't turn down sex. The first test was the very next day. I was taken to a different building and led to a room with three beds in. On one bed was my partner for the test, a petite Asian angel who introduced herself as Mai Li. The doctors left us to it, only saying that we were to have much intercourse as we could, time didn't matter. Mai Li stood up and took off her prison boiler suit as I did the same. Her body was quite muscular and her pubes were hairless, just the way I like them. Just so you know, I always shave mine off. I love the feeling of naked balls in my undies. The only thing I didn't like was the obvious fake boobs. Still, I had a hard on before my undies hit the floor. She looked at my dick and smiled. We started with a bit of oral. I lay on the bed while she sort of knelt over me. I used my tongue on her pussy while she sucked and licked my boner. The sweet taste of pussy and the expert blow job made me glad to be alive. My beard must have tickled a bit because she kept moving her hips to make it touch her clit. Not that I minded, it was easier than licking her. My first orgasm blasted a load over her face and hair. She didn't seem to mind. She soon had me hard again and turned around so that her pussy was ready to take me in. Before lowering herself she rubbed her pussy. When she started to come she dropped onto my dick and let herself go. That was the first time anybody did that to me. Her cunt muscles felt like they were milking me. Fantastic. If I had not just come myself I probably would have done so immediately. Awesome. My turn. When she had calmed down, I rolled us over and began to fuck her hard. I love watching my rod slide in and out of a pussy. Specially a shaved one. I pushed her legs as far apart as I could and rammed home so hard my balls smacked against her ass. She began rubbing her clit again and soon began shaking with another orgasm. She was one sexed up bitch. Her face and black hair was still coated with my jism. Time for another coat. I pulled out of her hot pussy and crawled up her body till I could fuck her tits. They were big enough to cover my cock totally and she held them together for me as I rammed in and out of the valley between. It felt great. I was soon ready to blow. I pulled clear and wanked my dick as it erupted. The first spurt landed on her closed eyes the next one on her mouth and the third on her tits. The rest just leaked down my hand and balls onto her belly. That was about all for that test. She could get me hard again for a while with her hands and mouth but no more sperm came out. I was satisfied. It was the first time I had even seen a woman in ten months. To get to have sex with one whilst still banged up, was well beyond my dreams. After a weeks rest I was again taken to the three bedded room. This time several doctors waited for me. They checked my vital signs and weighed me, then gave me an injection. I felt a little fuzzy for a few minutes. It went away leaving me with a raging hard on. The doctors seemed pleased with this and after checking my heart rate again they filed out. Not long later three girls filed in. The first one was the same girl I had fucked the week before. The other two were a tall ginger haired beauty and short, fat, ugly, blonde. I was ready to go so I helped the Asian out of her kit and threw her on the bed. My dick was soon inside her, it felt great to be in her pussy again and I didn't last long, firing my first blast into her depths after only about a minute. It surprised me how much spurted out and that I was still hard. Not wanting to be ungrateful, I kept plugging her come filled snatch till we came. She started first, that milking action pushing me over the edge too. Our combined thrashings separated our genitals. We both watched as the spurts of semen I fired flew well over head and hit the wall above the bed. It was not just the distance, but the amount that spewed out that surprised us. It seemed to be half a pint at least. When it had stopped she looked at my still hard dick and invited me to fuck again. I declined. I wanted some ginger minge. The other women had been watching and seemed as surprised as me that I was still hard. The ginger one, Ruth, was quite willing to sample my seemingly invincible cock. She grabbed it and used it like a handle to pull me onto a fresh bed. She started by cleaning all the mess off of the shaft, then the balls. Her mouth was like a silk glove. A hot silk glove, mind. She took my whole hard length in her gob, deep throating like a pro. Turns out she was a pro, they were all convicted prossies, like I said. Even though I had just come twice it didn't take much of her sucking to get me off. Yet again I sprayed loads of jism, mostly down her neck. Some of it made her choke, so she let the rest spray on her tits. As soon as I realised I was still stiff, I pushed her over and tore open her clothing. Her pubes were the same colour as her hair and had never been trimmed. Now, like I said, I like a shaven mound, but this ginger haven looked good enough to fuck. So I did. I ploughed her cunt like it had never been ploughed before. Her cunt was just as smooth as her mouth, and it was soon just as wet. The sensation of her hairy snatch on my legs was amazing. I kept ramming into her till I came again, filling her with sticky come. She seemed to come at the same time but thinking back, she was a pro. And I didn't care. When I turned round Mai Li had gone, the blonde had got naked though. Ugh, I hate fat chicks. They just don't turn me on. Unfortunately the test was for me to fuck whoever they decided. So, as I never turn down sex, I walked over to her bed. To my surprise my dick was still stuck out like a truncheon. It felt a bit tender having never been used this many times in such a short time. It looked quite red around the glans, the shaft felt bruised and my balls ached. Still, it wanted more and the blonde was ready, so. This time I let her do all the work. I lay on my back, head on a pillow and watched as she did the business. She gave me a good coating of saliva, to ease the friction and then climbed on the bed. Her pubes were well trimmed and I could see long pussy lips hanging down from her crotch. Something twinkled and I realised she had a pierced clit hood. Cool, never fucked one of those before. Her fat naked body repelled me, but her hot wet cunt felt good. The way her body wobbled as she rode my cock was funny to watch. Her huge tits bounced at a different rate to her belly, which was at a different rate to her arms or chins. Her pussy was really wet now, I could feel a wet patch on the bed sheet from her juices. I noticed she was sweating and panting as she fucked me. One of her hands was holding the bed, supporting her weight, the other was frigging her clit, pulling on the ring that hung there. She came quite quickly making her body quiver like a jelly. Inside though her cunt nearly ripped my dick off. It was like she had a vice down there. I was not prepared for the pain in my cock, but it had an unexpected effect. I blew my wad. A massive stream of semen blasted up into her. She got off of me like lightning and grabbed my cock, jerking it off. We watched the jet of sperm nearly hit the ceiling, both surprised by the amount and the distance. After she had licked me clean the blonde left the room and two more girls walked in. They were twins. I nearly came right then, just looking at them. They were oriental, slim, dark haired beautiful twins. Wow. Now, I'm not a religious man, but I thanked the maker that I met those girls. Not only were they visions of loveliness, but they sure knew how to fuck. I never did find out there names, and the only difference I could tell, was one had no pubes, the other girls were heart shaped. They walked over to a bed and slipped out of their clothing. It was then I noticed their differing pubes. Before I got to them, they were kissing and fondling each other. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, so I waited, watching. Hair was suckling on NoHairs nipples, squeezing one while sucking and licking the other. NoHair was using both hands between the legs of Hair, one was pinching and twisting the clit, the other had two fingers inside her sisters pussy. I heard the door open and a voice near to me told me they wanted a semen sample and would I jack off into this container. OK I thought, I had come more than ever already and my cock was still hard. One more ejaculation couldn't hurt. So while the twins played on the bed I watched and masturbated. It didn't take long for the girls to change positions, adopting the classic sixty nine pose. Hair was on top facing away from me, her snatch clearly visible. NoHair was giving it a serious dose of tongue. These girls had obviously done this many times, each knew how to make the other jump, or moan. The amount of juice running down from the visible cunt, down her legs and over her sisters face made me drool. As I watched NoHair stuck three fingers into her sisters pussy and sucked the clit into her mouth. Hair groaned with pleasure as her sister finger fucked her. A fourth finger disappeared into the wet hole, quickly followed by the rest of the hand. The pain in my shaft was greater than before and I almost considered calling for a doctor, but thought they would only stop the experiment and I was enjoying it. It was the first time I had seen a fisting. I blew my load all over the floor, the doctor, the container and even the top of NoHairs head. The doctor looked a little surprised at the amount of liquid I fired at him, but thanked me and left. Without pause I stepped up, removed the hand and stuck my cock into the raised pussy of Hair. Her sisters hand grabbed my balls and started tugging at them, her mouth soon joined in. I seemed to be so aroused that I could ejaculate twice in as many minutes. I wanted to see how little time between orgasms I could manage. It seemed like about two minutes since I had sprayed the doctor, now I was spraying inside Hairy sister. The hairless girl had extricated herself from under her sister and I grabbed her, threw her face down on the bed and rammed into her doggy style. As she moaned her sister started massaging her buttocks. This gave me an idea. I pushed a finger in her anus. She screamed and her pussy gripped me tight. I blasted another load of jism, so much it ran out of her onto the bed. I think it was less than a minute since I had filled her sisters cunt. Must be some kind of record, two girls filled by one man in less than two minutes. As I pulled out of the sweet pussy of NoHair her sister started to suck on my dick while squeezing my scrotum. My ejaculation was almost instant, filling her mouth and making me cringe as the pain in my dick got worse. I felt a bit fuzzy headed. The girls were looking at my crotch with fear on their faces, as soon as I looked down I saw why. Although the feeling of orgasm had gone away I was still leaking jism. It seemed to be red. I passed out. When I woke up I was in this hospital bed. I can't feel anything below my waist, apparently they have it sedated. They asked me to write this before they tell me any more. The End. Doctors Note: the subject died two days later from blood loss and dehydration. We were unable to reverse the effects of the drug. The Prisoner WARNING: This story contains serious pain and sadomasochism. If that is not your thing, please find another story. * Tarron regained consciousness slowly. His mind was fogged from the tranquilizer dart that had brought him down. He became aware of pain in his joints and wrists, tried to curl and realized that his arms were tightly bound above him, body hanging. His eyes felt heavy but he forced them open with a groan. At first the world was a gray blur. It cleared and focused into a stone-walled room lit with candles. A woman lounged on a bench in front of him, mouth twisted in a wry smile. The wall behind her was lined with sharp implements, whips, canes and several leather corded devices at whose purpose Tarron could only guess. He glanced down and saw his own naked body, tightly muscled and stretched taught between chains on his wrists and ankles. "Awake at last." The woman's voice was deep and velvety and held a hint of amusement. She stretched out one leather-clad leg and thoughtfully stroked the curve of a whip coiled at her hip. "You have caused a great deal of trouble. Nearly half the prisoners are gone, and the remainder have had their hope rekindled. It is not good to grant hope to the doomed. It makes them insubordinate." She stretched and unfolded herself from the bench, rising gracefully onto her high, sharp-heeled boots. "As you may have guessed, I am Arranya, Lady of the fortress." She tossed her mane of glossy black hair over her shoulder and strode sinuously to stand a few feet in front of him, where she surveyed him with arms crossed. Tarron's gaze lingered on the curve of her breasts, and he felt arousal swell in his groin. He looked into her eyes and, trying to hide the fear that was rising in him, said, "It does not speak well of your fortress that one man alone could gain access and free half the prisoners in your dungeon. I expected better of your defenses." Anger flashed in her eyes. "You will regret your disrespectful manner." She stepped close to him and grabbed his testicles in a painful grip. His winced as she hissed in his ear, "You will regret being born." She turned and released him with a last painful twist that made him gasp. As the ache in his balls subsided, he realized that he was harder than he had ever been. His heart pounded in fear as the woman ran her fingers over the implements on the wall, and his cock throbbed in time to his heartbeat. Finally she selected a long leather whip and turned back to him. She took in his parted lips and rigid cock and chuckled. "So you're one of those," she said softly. "I thought that might be the case. To the townspeople you're a selfless hero, but we know the truth, don't we?" She moved toward him, still smiling. "How long have you fantasized about this moment, I wonder?" she murmured, absently running the length of the whip through her fingers. "Perhaps you even convinced yourself that you were being noble. Well, we'll strip you of that delusion." The last words were a growl as she sent the whip crashing into his flesh. He jerked futilely against his bonds and his face contorted in pain. Without pause she let the whip fly again. He cried out as the braided leather bit into his tender skin. Again and again she brought the whip down against his chest, his stomach, his ribs, and the trembling skin of his back, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She brought it down against his buttocks, leaving angry crimson stripes, then moved to the backs of his thighs. Tarron's screams echoed against the dungeon walls, and thin trickles of blood began to ooze from the deepest cuts. Finally she stood back, chest heaving, and watched his reaction. Tarron's body shook and tears ran from his tightly-closed eyes. His cock was still hard, jutting out rigid and red and vulnerable. As the fog of pain receded, he opened his eyes and saw a drop a precum glistening at its tip. Panting, he raised his eyes to Arranya's face. Her eyes burned with lust. "Enough of this," she breathed. Tarron's eyes widened as she peeled off her top, displaying round, firm breasts tipped with plump nipples. She rubbed them briefly between her thumbs and forefingers, half-closing her eyes, and Tarron saw them harden under her touch. Slowly she bent down to unlace her stiletto-heeled boots. The curve of her bent-over body sent a new throb of longing through him. She moved more quickly as she slid out of her boots and pulled off her leather pants. Her eyes were locked on Tarron. And then she stood before him, naked but for a black satin thong, and Tarron could see the moistness of her arousal shining on the thin strip of fabric between her legs. She stepped so close to him that he could feel the heat of her body, and he strained forward, imagining the feel of his penis against her skin. "None of that, my little trouble maker." Her voice was almost affectionate. She grazed her long nails lightly over his balls, making him moan, then dug them in sharply. She smiled at his yell of pain and walked back to the wall of implements. She picked up a small whip with a bundle of thin wire lashes, then moved purposefully to one of the leather devices, and as she lifted it off its peg Tarron got an inkling of what it was meant for. It consisted of several adjustable loops of leather cord held together by steel rings. She let it dangle from one finger, looked at Tarron for a moment and seemed to reach a decision. "Uther! Kairgon! Strap him to the table." She barked the command and Tarron heard a door open somewhere behind him. He twisted, trying to see the intruders, but his bonds wouldn't let him. He felt a muscular hand grab his arm, and then there were two large men on either side of him, methodically undoing the chains that bound him. He struggled as they released his arms, and one of the men placed a cool piece of metal to his spine and hit a button. He screamed as an electric shock tore through him. Then he sagged, and they turned and dragged him deeper into the room. A low table appeared in front of him, with steel manacles on the corners. He recovered slightly and tried to struggle, and again they placed the weapon to his spine and sent the shock tearing through him. They lifted him onto the table and clapped his wrists in the manacles with speed borne of long practice. Then they forced his legs wide apart and strapped his ankles into the manacles on the other side of the table. The woman appeared in his view, smiling, and dismissed the men with a wave of her hand. Tarron's erection had subsided as the men handled him, but now, gazing at the naked woman before him and realizing how helpless and vulnerable he was, his cock rose again, dark and engorged. "Now we will begin our fun," she whispered. She grazed her nails slowly from his feet up his legs to the sensitive crease where his thighs met his body, and he shuddered and moaned. She placed the small whip by his side on the table, took the other device she had been carrying and tightened one of its leather cords around his cock and balls, cinching it tight. Then she placed his cock through another loop and his balls through the third, and pulled them so tight that Tarron could feel the blood surge to busting in his groin. His already engorged penis swelled almost painfully. She let her fingers stroke gently up the length of his shaft, and a drop of precum swelled and glistened. Tarron moaned again and tried to thrust forward against her hand, but she withdrew it and reached for a small packet on a nearby shelf. She opened it slowly, revealing a row of long needles. Tarron's eyes widened in fear. "Have you ever had a wound stitched with no anaesthetic?" she asked softly. Tarron shook his head, eyes never leaving the shining needles. "The intensity of the pain varies dramatically depending on where the needles are inserted. up here you can hardly feel it." She pushed a needle through the skin of his upper arm, near the shoulder, and he gritted his teeth. She pushed it out about a centimeter away, leaving a raised ridge where the metal passed under his skin. Tarron craned his neck around to see it. The pain was sharp. She withdrew another needle. "The underarm is more sensitive. A needle inserted here," she carefully took a pinch of skin from under his arm, "causes a brief, sharp sting." She stabbed it through the pinch of skin between her fingers. Tarron gasped, and a tiny sound of pain escaped him. Arranya seemed not to notice. "This is where things get interesting," she continued, shifting her attention to his bound and straining crotch. His balls were turning a deep purple color from being bound so tightly. "But I think you need to be sensitized first," She continued. She set down the packet of needles and reached for the short whip with its bundle of wire lashes. She let the lashes glide lightly over his groin. With a sudden flick of her wrist, she sent them slicing into his balls. Every wire felt like a streak of fire burning into him; the pain was exquisite. He cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure and strained at the manacles that bound him to the table. Before he could recover or prepare for the next stroke, she whipped him again, right on the same burning and tender flesh. The wires hissed through the air and struck his balls with a loud crack; he screamed and moisture began to build at the corners of his eyes. Again, and again, and again she struck him, until his whole crotch felt like it was on fire. Then she started landing strokes on his penis, and he felt his balls tightening, preparing to spew cum like never before. Suddenly, she stopped and drew back. He panted, cock quivering and jerking and leaking precum, tears streaming freely from his eyes. The head of his cock was shiny with engorgement, dark and throbbing purple. "More," he whispered. Slowly, she set down the whip and picked up the packet of needles. "Now I think you're sensitized." She withdrew a needle and, gently at first, began to press it into the sore, angry skin of his scrotum covering his right testicle. He whimpered as it broke through the taut skin. Arranya smiled and wiggled it a little, and he let out a small sob. Precum was oozing in a steady stream from his aching cock. Then she pushed the needle out again, and left it piercing him as she withdrew another one. She inserted it in the same way through the skin of his left testicle, pushing slowly until it tore through the thin skin. She inserted third and fourth needles above the first and second, and continued until she reached the base of his penis. When the first needle tore through the tight skin of his cock, he screamed. Slowly she placed needles through the skin on the sides of his cock, one at a time, ignoring his cries. After an eternity of torture, she reached the ridge. He was close to coming again, feeling the pleasure and pain wash in waves through his trembling member. She smiled a cruel smile. "Do you like ginger?" she asked softly. He stared at her, uncomprehending. She reached toward the shelf on the side of the table and Tarron craned his neck to see a whole ginger root and a long black-handled knife. She picked them up and began peeling the ginger. She carved a narrow strip a couple of inches long and slowly inserted in into the opening of his penis. At first it just felt cool. Then the burning started. He writhed and whimpered as the burning in his penis increased to an intolerable level. She raised the whip again. "Let's see how much more you can take," she said. She stroked his balls, straining purple in their bonds, stuck with needles. Then she brought the whip crashing down. Without pause, she brought it down again, and again, and again in a rhythm to fast to follow. With her left hand she began lightly stroking his cock, gliding her hand over the smooth ridge. His cries blended into each other, as did the pain of the separate tortures, and the pleasure that boiled in him, ready to explode. She continued whipping him and stroking his cock, faster and faster. He exploded--cum ripped out of him in a torrent, and his scream was of pleasure and pain together as load after load of hot cum shot from him, searing him with ecstasy. The pleasure washed through him in waves, and it seemed he would come forever, thick white juices spurting from his cock. As the last spurt died away, he collapsed against the stone and sank into uncosciousness. When he awoke he was in a large, soft bed. He opened his eyes to see Arranya seated in a nearby armchair, toying with a strawberry and watching him. "Awake at last," she said softly. "Having you nearly makes up for the loss of my other prisoners." She paused, gazing at him. "I think you will be my new favorite." She popped the berry into her mouth and smiled. The Prisoner This story is dedicated to my father, a prisoner of the Japanese for four years in WWII. Sadly he died before I ever understood the things that he must have experienced. My lack of understanding no doubt contributed to the estrangement between us, and my inadequate attempts to reconcile prior to his death. As I researched the story, I found many accounts from other prisoners of war. The one factor they seemed to have in common was that they all spoke of what happened but very few commented on their feelings or emotions; maybe this is a result of their generation when men suppressed their emotions or maybe they just didn't want to think about their feelings. I don't know. I tried to think how I would have felt and realised that the terrible things they saw and heard were so far outside anything I could imagine that I had no idea how I would have reacted. The story is fiction but all the parts of this story are taken from true life accounts of real people. Maybe I should dedicate it to their bravery and fortitude, and to the sacrifice of all those who died. The more I read this, the more I feel it is woefully inadequate as a tribute but I need to put my ideas on paper. ************************* "You're free now," the American officer said. It seemed almost an impossibility after everything that had happened in the last few years. *********** When I was first conscripted, I was sent to an artillery training camp in the Welsh mountains. There they tried to turn me from a student studying art and literature to a soldier whose job was to try to shoot at aircraft and kill their crews. Thankfully it was easier to forget that you were trying to kill other human beings when all you could actually see were aircraft with black crosses on; you could blot out the thought that there were other young men inside the planes who had been told to come and drop bombs on you. The sergeant major at basic training told us all how useless we were - doubtless he said the same to all new recruits - and proceeded to spend six weeks berating us and highlighting our inadequacies as soldiers. Of course nothing in my previous life could prepare me for this. I had been an ordinary young man, following my studies, trying to meet young ladies, joining friends for a beer in the evenings, listening to music and happy in the knowledge that I had parents and siblings at home to fall back on if things went wrong. I had never even felt like causing anyone serious harm now suddenly I was supposed to learn to kill. I was filled with uncertainty and apprehension. Would I actually be able to kill if I had to? How would it feel to become a killer? It was frightening even to think about it, how much worse would the reality be. I began to smoke more than before, and, if the chance arose, to drink more too. At least anti-aircraft gunners didn't usually get to see anyone actually killed. None of my training prepared me for the real horrors that awaited me. Having been sent to defend an airfield in South Eastern England, there were frequent air raids that meant explosions, and bomb fragments that whistled through the air whilst the guns boomed away. Adrenaline kept us going but after the raids the fear would return. Then the casualties began to appear: rows of corpses, sometimes mutilated beyond recognition, which left me nauseous and unable to face an evening meal. Many nights I sat outside my hut staring at the sky and smoking knowing that a young man or woman that I had been talking to, making friends with, would never be back to finish our conversation. I began to feel the pain of loss and yet almost immediately I found I was becoming accustomed to it; it was such an impersonal way to die because you couldn't see the person doing the killing, just the machine that they travelled in. The news from home was not always much better; I began to dread letters that brought fresh news of old school friends that I would never see again. My older brother was in the Navy and I was forever anxious that one day I would be told he was gone. When the raids on the airfields finally ended and the Blitz attacks on London started, my unit was posted there. Now it was my parents and sister who became the focus of my apprehension. The knot of fear within my stomach had become an old friend; I was adept at hiding the tremble in my hand, it did not do to display fear: I was a soldier. The next posting to the Far East had not seemed to make much difference. I would still carry my worries about my family but for a while I could relax on a boat: a cruise liner no less. There was always the threat of submarines of course but in my case, fear of the unseen did not seem as bad as the results of the attacks that I had witnessed. For eight weeks we sailed through the tropics with stops at all sorts of exotic ports. For a young man whose entire life had been spent in England this was eye opening. Our final arrival in the East Indies saw us land on an island under attack by the Japanese. We were posted to defend a forward airfield and set of as soon as our trucks were unloaded. Now I began to experience the jungle for the first time and here it was that I first encountered that smell and the mosquitoes. It was the smell that told you that you were somewhere that was definitely not England, that and the humidity and the heat. It was worse at night because then the mosquitoes began biting. Even travelling in trucks pulling the Bofors antiaircraft guns, the smell permeated the cab; a damp, musty smell of rotting wood yet aromatic and earthy, infused with the scents of tropical plants. The noise of the engine drowned out the strange calls of the nocturnal animals, but that smell meant you could not forget that you were in the jungle. That one thought inevitably led on to a second thought: the Japs were in that jungle somewhere too. We might actually have to face our enemy now. The fear began to re-emerge as we moved closer to the front lines. When the trucks were stopped, the sound of gunfire could be clearly heard. Quite how our officers made such a mess of things I'll never know but within a couple of days we had been taken prisoner. If everything before had been beyond my experience, nothing could have prepared me for what followed. Almost immediately we discovered that our captors would not be showing us any consideration. Gerry, a mate, had been injured during our capture and was finding it difficult to march with us. A Japanese soldier beat him to the ground with a rifle butt and then used a bayonet to kill him: murdered him in cold blood. All the other shocking sights of this war paled away by comparison. A friend murdered in front of my eyes and nothing I could do to help him. I was swamped with a deluge of emotions: frustration at my inability to help my mate, anger at the Jap soldier who killed him, fear that I might be the next to be killed, sorrow at the loss of a friend. Thank God I didn't know it was going to get worse; I might not have been able to control the tears that threatened to embarrass me. Food was in short supply and often worse than what would be fed to animals, only our extreme hunger made it edible. Even water could be withheld, and often was, to punish us for some imagined offence. Any attempt at escape would bring violent punishment, usually involving the death of the escapee as well as their colleagues. Death was rarely as kind as shooting: bayonets and officers swords were the favoured methods. I could not have believed that I would become used to the sight of a man being made to kneel down and then beheaded. I actually stopped feeling the shock although maybe at another level it was still there, just not registering on my conscious brain. I suppose that it is the mind's way of coping with the trauma. If what we experienced then was hell, the journey to Japan was an infernal torment that was worse than any nightmare. Several hundred of us were herded into the hold of a cargo ship and shut in. There were buckets for use as toilets and if someone remembered they sometimes got emptied. Once we were underway, we found that food and water were once again woefully inadequate. This was probably a blessing in some ways. Once the bad weather came, many of the men had sea sickness and although this added to the already foul smell in the hold at least there was not much in their stomachs to be vomited back. We spent several weeks in the dark, fetid purgatory with the smell of urine, excrement and vomit, until we reached Japan. Every day would see more men die from disease and injuries since there was no medical treatment. I don't know whether it was worse to see friends murdered or allowed to die lingering deaths. Each one seemed to take another bit of my soul, and yet there was no more shock left in me. The bodies would be taken up daily and thrown into the sea without even the dignity of a burial service. Our arrival in Japan at least saved us from the ship. Now we were back in close proximity with our captors though, and it was clear that they had nothing but contempt for us. I had been used to being told off when my work was unsatisfactory, even in the army, but now it would result in a violent beating and often there was no explanation of what was wrong. Each camp I was moved to had different rules, the commandants could make their own. I was expected to speak Japanese and punished if I didn't understand. Every day we worked from dawn to dusk, hunger was a constant friend, disease was a curse that most suffered from, and death was our only escape; I would lie if I didn't admit that a part of me considered that as a way of escaping. I locked my mind into compartments into which I could put the death, despair, fear, anger and misery that I faced daily. Many days I went through like a zombie. Occasional letters from home kept a tenuous link with the old world of my youth but I would never return there. After four years, those of us who were left were finally liberated. ****************** "You're free now" said the American officer But I could never be free again; my mind was forever a prisoner of the awful memories, full of terrible visions that would haunt me to my death, nightmares that would fill my sleep forever. The Prisoner I grew up in a small town in the South West. The town consisted of only Whites. The town was poor, after graduation I joined the military. I spent 4 years in the military to earn money for college. During my tour, I became a member of the military police, this was a tough assignment. I soon came to realize that if I used my feminine whiles on the drunks, they were easy to handle. My name is Dani McCarthy, I'm 25, and have a 36C-26-36 figure, Brunette, with an athletic build at 5'9" and 135 lbs. When my enlistment was up, I married my high school sweetheart. I started looking for employment after the honeymoon, so we could buy a house. The state corrections department was hiring, I applied to my surprise I was hired as a prison guard, because of my military background. I went through all the training classes and scored very well, on all the tests we had, physical and written. I received my first assignment, it was a long commute. I was at the job for 2 years. Over time with the military training I had, the prisoners learned to respect me. I did not try to befriend any of them but earned their trust, by not flaunting my authority. There was one particular inmate that was extremely intimidating, his name was Jamal Franklin. He stood 6'7" tall with a very muscular build weighing close to 300 lbs, and Black. There was a fight in the cafeteria at lunch time one day, Jamal got stabbed, and I got the task of escorting him to the infirmary. The weather was rainy and thunderstorms were close by. We had to swipe our I.D. cards every time we went through a door, incase of a problem we could be found. During this simple task of escorting Jamal to the infirmary, lightning struck a transformer. I found myself stuck in a hallway with Jamal, the emergency lights came on. When I tried swiping my card to open the door to the infirmary, it did not work. The lights must have been battery back up, doors operated off an emergency generator. There were security cameras almost every where in the prison, so I felt safe. "We may be here for a while, Jamal" "Whys that" "I don't think all the emergency generators started" this worried me some. Jamal being 300 lbs to my 135 no telling what could happen. "More room here then in my cell" kind of crowded for a man his size in a 4 by 8 cell I figured. "Are you Okay?" I asked Jamal he was still bleeding. "Hurts some, but pains going away and bleeding slowing down" "That's good; they'll have us out of here in no time" quickly I was hoping. We sat silently for a while. I became nervous when I looked and saw the light out on the cameras. Shit! They may not know were trapped. Talking to Jamal, I learned he was an intelligent man, who had a year left on his sentence. He was in a bar fight where a man died. Jamal must have noticed that the cameras were not working; he became a little friendlier than I wanted. Jamal started to rub my leg above the thigh. "Jamal, what are you doing?" "Going to be here awhile, cameras aren't working" "Jamal, we can't do this it's against the rules" "Rules were made to be broken" Jamal kissed me all of a sudden, pulling me close. I tried to get away, Jamal was just too strong. He started to rub my ass, with his strong hands. I had never spent much time with the Black community, I was frightened. Jamal's tongue started trying to snake into my mouth, he succeeded. OMG! I hope the cameras come back on, I thought. Jamal grabbed my hand and brought it to his crotch, never breaking the kiss. Moving my hand up and down his crotch, with his. His penis started to become engorged, OMG it's huge. I felt Jamal's hand start to rub my pussy, through my uniform. I was rubbing his penis on my own. I broke the kiss long enough to check the cameras, still not working. Jamal started to undo my pants, I grabbed his wrist. When I saw my hand on his, I became intrigued with the contrast. Jamal kissed me again; I felt my panties getting wet. Jamal's tongue wrestling with mine got me excited. I reached for the tie string on Jamal's sweatpants, when I felt my pant's being slid down. Jamal broke the kiss, checking the cameras to be sure the light was out. Jamal had me on the floor in seconds; I untied my boots and kicked them off. "Jamal any flicker of the lights on the security camera and we stop" "Deal'' Jamal said pulling down my panties "I would hate to claim rape, with you being out in a year" I said I did not want to lose my job for sleeping with an inmate "Yes, Guard McCarthy" Jamal pulled my pants and panties off, and started eating my pussy. OMG! I climaxed. "AHHHHHHHH, Jamal' Jamal stood up, he dropped his sweat pants. "OMG! That will never fit in me" Jamal looked at the camera, to be safe. Jamal got down on top of me, kissing me. I felt Jamal's cock slap my pussy, he didn't try to enter. He leaned up and looked down. "Guide it in" "Jamal I shouldn't do this I'm married" He slapped my pussy with his cock, I looked down. The contrast of his Black cock and my White pussy had me wanting to fuck this man. I reached down and took hold of his cock, OMG will it fit. I rubbed it up and down my creaming pussy trying to get it started. I looked at the cameras to be sure they were out. I had the head of Jamal's cock in my pussy now. Jamal started sawing in and out easily at first. He was working it deeper and deeper with every stroke. The girth was uncomfortable at first but the longer he was in my pussy the better it felt. Jamal hit bottom, his balls started slapping off my ass. "OHHHHHHHHHH, Jamal that feels so good, fuck me' Jamal started sawing out faster and faster now his cock was hitting my cervix, I was having continuous orgasms. "Jamal that feels so good, AHHHHHHHHHHHHH" "You like that guard McCarthy" Jamal said he was a gentle man. "Dani, AHHHHHHH, Yes fuck me" Jamal was really sawing in to me now his cock hitting my cervix. "Jamal, check cams, AHHHHHHHHHH" "Cams off, Dani" "OHHHHH, fuck me" "Getting close Dani" I was getting so excited with this fucking I knew I should have him pull out; a little more I thought this just feels so right. Jamal was sawing in and out, I looked up at the cameras still not working. "AHHHHH...feels so good, fuck me" Jamal started fucking me with passion it felt so right. When his cock head expanded I should have told him to pull out. I wrapped my legs around his waist. "Fuck me, Jamal it feels so good... OHHHHHHHHHHH" Jamal's cock exploded deep in my pussy his seed pelting my womb, intensity, I came "Yes, plant your seed...OHHHHHHHHHHH" We laid there kissing with his cock embedded in my pussy, it felt so right. We got dressed after 5 minutes and checked the camera's again they were still out. We started banging on the doors. A little while later we heard keys and the doors opened. "You okay, Dani" "Yeah Sarge" "He didn't hurt you?" Sarge inquired checking on his underling. "No, Sarge perfect gentleman" I said to Sarge smiling. "We never made it to the infirmary, though" not wanting to shirk my duties "Get going; don't forget to fill out an incident report." Sarge said "Yes, Sarge as soon as we get back" part of my job duties I brought Jamal to the infirmary. It was a superficial wound and then I brought Jamal back to his cell. I finished my shift that day with a smile on my face and a thought in my head, When was my last period? To be continued............ The Prisoner Hi!!! This is my first story, inspired by a Skyrim session with too many pickpocketings gone bad... It's pretty much unfinished, but I'll continue if you guys think it's alright! Please tell me what you think!! ;* ***** Njall served duty at the dungeon every Morndas, and these were not his best days. The nights that preceded such days were often filled with anger and frustration - even more so since his wife Finna had taken to the Cloud District, on the pretext of running errands, and did not reappear until well into the night. Njall spoke to his friend, Joric, about Finna's comings and goings. "She drives me insane," he'd explained, "and - by the Nine! - it wouldn't be as bad if we at least we fucked some when she comes back, but she's cold as ice." "I'll tell ya this, Njall - if someone's liftin' your wife's skirt at night, it certainly ain't me," assured him Joric. "I never suspected you, my friend - and anyway her bein' about has turned.. queer." "Queer?" "Queer, as in... y'know, queer," Njall pressed. "Oh," Joric understood. "Queer like...?" "Aye, like that woman Aela." "Oh, Njall, I really don't think yer Finna would -" "How's a man supposed to know?!" Njall cried out. "Every word that escapes my wife's mouth is a reproach, or some sorta excuse - not for what you're thinkin', Joric, but for anything really -, and I feel like I sleep with a bleedin' statue everynight." This was why Njall did not love his duty on Morndas, for his body was rest-deprived and unsatisfied, and his mind kept picking at the same bone over and over: what'd his wife be doing at the time? Whom with? And what tortured him most - why? Today, however, was bound to be different. And here's why. ***** Since he'd arrived at the barracks that morning, Njall had heard his fellows talk of an addition to the dungeon - a particular Nord woman who'd caused a terrible ruckus all the way in Solitude, and had been brought to Dragonsreach for containment until she could be sent to Cyrodiil, and there be thoroughly tried. When he inquired, Njall was told the woman's unlikely story, and it went something like this. Apparently, the woman - who'd refused to yield her name, and was called simply Prisoner - had been caught with others' property inside the Blue Palace, in Solitude, and the guard had been summoned. None could explain what followed, but as soon as the guard was called and her detainer had turned his back on her, she cast a spell on him and sent him flying against the wall. The poor man tore a few stones off the wall, and so savage was the blow that he died in an instant. Not content with murdering him, the crazed woman made herself at home in the room she'd been captured in; propping tables against doors, gathering whatever could be used as a weapon, barricading herself in the personal quarters of Jarl Elisif. A dozen guards were summoned then and many were murdered, as viciously as by a rabid beast, by the insane woman. It was not until two brave soldiers dared enter through the room's windows - shattering them first with stones from outside - that the woman could at last be overpowered. She'd been quiet, ever since, in her cell at Dragonsreach unless someone mentioned her or called out to her. Then she'd answer with either no answer at all, an outright-preposterous comment regarding the guards' mothers ("all of them!") or a flippant expression that gathered cheers from all the men in the room. Njall hadn't yet seen this woman, but it seemed to him that too great of a mess was being made out of her. What kind of person would lock herself up in the Jarl's residence and, avoiding capture, murder half a dozen soldiers before being overcome by their numbers? A lunatic is what she was - not a terrorist or a war-criminal, an agent of the Stormcloaks as they termed her. What purpose would it serve them? He passed by her cell, and took a moment to study her. She was not the image of insanity - not, at least, by nature. She had a strong and chiseled face, with a wide nose and thick lips; her eyes were like two ambers spitting fire onto all she looked at, and under each eye ran a thick line of black war-paint, worn and made faint by time; and her copper hair she kept tied behind her head in a ponytail. There was something - something to her eyes, and the way she rested her look on things. She looked calculating - but not cold: rather, as a caged beast weighing every small detail in her enviroment to aid her escape. Njall saw also irritation and displeasure: she knew as well as he did that there was no escape from the dungeons of Dragonsreach. ***** Honmund was a good soldier and was beloved by his fellows: but he was not a good griever. "Just let me get at 'er," he raved about the Prisoner, "and I'll make her wish she'd been killed by the boys at Solitude!" It had so happened that Honmund's cousin, Gunmar, had been there the day the Prisoner was captured. The both of them used to work in Solitude's guard-force, until Honmund was sent south to Whiterun, along with countless other soldiers, to account for the newborn dragon menace. All understood Honmund: he felt he should have been there to protect his cousin, or at the least to die at arms by his side. But the Divines would not have it so, and this drove Honmund mad with revenge. "Why - why'd she deserve a trial, huh? She killed seven people - all of 'em good men, with families to feed and widows mournin' 'em now! Why's she get so much longer to live than she deserves? Do them Thalmor want an example made outta her? To Oblivion with them! Our fallen comrades are example enough - she oughtta been gutted on the spot!" Each word he spoke brought more and more to agree with him. Didn't her vicious crimes deserve an equally vicious punishment? Would their dead go unavenged - would they live in Sovngarde knowing no justice was done to them on Earth? Njall passed by the woman's cell again. She had her back turned to him, and seemed intent on prying the stones out of the wall with her eyesight - so Njall let her be, for a time. Then he grew impatient, or maybe bored - or both. Taking out a small dagger, he rattled the bars of the cell and she turned her head, an expression of annoyance marking her face. "Hey," Njall called, "is what they say true? Did ya really do that to all those men?" She didn't answer for a while. She stood up, and leaned against the wall. Against his own will, Njall's throat went dry for an instant when he saw the woman's nipples poking through her thin yarn shirt. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, and Njall regained his self. "What'd they say 'bout me, soldier?" the woman asked. She held her brow tall and her voice was coarse. "They say you're caught plunderin' the Jarl's quarters; that a guard caught ya, you smacked him right against the wall, and then killed half a dozen more. That all true?" "That's what they tell?" She let out a humph, as if unimpressed. "They sure tell a lot of lies to you people. I wasn't plunderin' the Jarl's quarters - I was ransacking the whole darned palace, room by room. Run outta luck, I guess," she shrugged. "When I was caught, and the fool called for help, I didn't throw him against a wall: I threw him against a wardrobe. He went through the wardrobe, broke a desk in halves, and then hit the wall like a sack of potatoes. Bloody mess it was, too!" She walked away from the wall, Njall's gaze bound to her perky chest, and she pulled a stool close to the bars and sat on it. "Last of all - how many they say I killed after?" Njall swallowed. "A half dozen. If not more." "Ah," she waved her arm, disdainfully, "that's a lie. I killed a full dozen alright; no 'if', or 'maybe'. A dozen. Not one man more. That's how I work," and she smiled a crooked and wholly evil smile to Njall. "Why would you? Why not try to make an escape, hide - sumthin', for the love of the Eight, but not a bloodbath!" Njall exclaimed. "Hmm! You see, there wasn't anythin' else to do. Escape? There wasn't no escape, not from the Blue Palace and with the whole guard on my heels. Hide? What for? They'd find me before long - them being familiar with the building and all, and I just newly arrived there. Now - a bloodbath? It might've scared 'em off. At least for some time. Would've bought me thinkin' time at least, and I'd have pulled an antic off. You'd have seen, they weren't gonna pin me there for long. And they didn't," she kneeled on the stool and stretched herself out to Njall (her nipples stabbing at her shirt!), "which is why now I'm here, sittin' and talkin' to you!" Njall was left speechless for a moment, as he avoided the woman's chest and looked her in the eye; but he was defeated. She let out a coy laugh, then got off the stool and kicked it away. "Come back when y'want more," she called out to him in a sharp and sarcastic tone, "on the subject of guttin' you knuckleheads and wearin' your skins to the Jarl's banquet!" She fell back to the bottom of her cell, laughing maniacally as Njall quietly retreated from her dominion. ***** As Njall passed the kitchen, he saw a group of three men making down the hallway with Honmund at their head. "Hey, Njall!" they called out. "Come with us, we have some justice to serve!" Taken aback, Njall replied: "How! You don't mean you're... we can't touch that prisoner, y'know that!" "Quiet, fools!" Honmund calmed his companions, then turned to Njall. "Of course we know we musn't, Njall - and we won't do nothing bad to her, she'll be left to Imperial justice and all that. But," he hammered his palm with the other hand, "as the guard of the hold, we must have it seen that we'll not be messed about with! All we'll do is give that strumpet a lesson, without a drop o' blood spilt - then leave her be. Come, ya'll see!" Before he could reply, then, Njall was dragged down the corridor by Honmund and his fellows. The Prisoner rose her head to see what all the ruckus was about, when she saw the five men coming towards her cell. "Well-well-well, soldier," she called out to Njall, "seems like ya brought some more of your arsehole friends along." One of the rasher in the group started: "What'd she call us?" He eyed Honmund first, then the Prisoner. "Whatcha callin' us, you harlot?" "Arseholes, I think it was!" the Prisoner replied with cheek. "It'd help if you only thought with your arse, though, and let your ears do the hearin' already!" The young guard started towards her cell. She leaned back on the floor, behind the bars. Her expression changed from untroubled to mildly interested when she saw the youth produce a set of keys and unlock her cell, stepping into her realm. "Ya do lots of talkin', woman," he moved towards her, "and a damn sure lot of fuckin' around with us. So ya got me thinking: do ya only fuck around with that mouth of yours, or do you also open yer legs and fuck for real sometime?" She arched her eyebrows when the guard launched himself at her, but even so she was quick and cool. With a howl of pain, the youth fell to the grimy floor clutching his groin as if he'd just discovered it. Blood ebbed everywhere, and the Prisoner held a sharp blade - what miners often called a shiv - in her hand, dripping with the man's blood. "Shit!" the guards cried as one, and rushed inside the cell to reduce the woman. While two hauled their companion out, another grabbed the Prisoner's wrists - or tried to; for before he could grab her, she had swung the weapon like a Fury and slashed half the man's ear off. Their companion rescued, three guards jumped on the Prisoner at once, ridding her of her weapon and pinning her against the floor. "Well-well-well," Honmund mocked her past words, "it seems we've finally clipped this bird's wings." While they held her face-down, Honmund brought his foot crashing down on her face, and a sickening sound of splintering bones was heard. Blood flew everywhere - the youth's, the second guard's and now the Prisoner's. She coughed and sneezed blood onto the floor, and then spat a tooth. "I guess that's kinda what it feels like," Honmund gazed down at her, "to be smashed against a wall. Turn her around!" The guards flipped the Prisoner so she eyed the ceiling - her face a bloody but defiant mess. She licked off a trail of blood, and then said to Honmund: "Uh... cousin? Brother? What is he? Well, what was he - because now, he's dead," the Prisoner spat at him. Honmund grabbed her shiv, tossed aside during the brawl, and aimed it under her chin. "What's it matter to ya, what he was? He's a bloody pulp now, and that's what matters to me," he said to her, before grabbing her breasts through her shirt. "I'd gut you if the Empire weren't in between - they feed all our families, y'see, and there's no point in having 'em starve so we can avenge someone who's already dead. So, since blood won't cut the deal," he began massaging her breasts as he spoke, "we'll have to find a way round this." He began tearing her shirt apart with the shiv, but her legs were free and with a kick she sent him falling against the stool, which broke into several pieces. Undaunted Honmund stradled her waist and continued his labor. The Prisoner spun as if maddened, but the guards held her fast in their grip. As Honmund's work progressed soon the Prisoner's shirt fell apart and her rosebud nipples, topping her perky tits, came into view. All the men expressed their approval, and even Njall stirred at the sight. "A fine pair, by Ysmir!" Honmund exclaimed, grabbing them and playing with the nipples. "Get off - now!" the Prisoner barked at Honmund. The Prisoner's howl was fearsome indeed - daunting like the battle-cry of the Forsworn upon the frozen tundra of the North! But the guardsmen were not daunted, and after a brief awed silence, they gave a loud laugh and resumed their play. ***** Now all the guards began playing with the Prisoner's small breasts. With the shiv in his hand, Honmund reached behind him and placed the handle between her legs, pushing through her trousers, into her most private part. "Awk!" the Prisoner gasped. "This wench likes it, fellas! Shall we give it to her - one long cock at a time?" Honmund called, and all the guards agreed. Honmund have out another cackle when he felt the Prisoner writhing under him, and with a wide grin on his face he slowly bent over and spat on her face, hitting her between the eyebrows. Then he turned around, again reaching for her lower half: but he was cut short when one of the Prisoner's legs darted out of his own legs' grip and, and she kneeded him in the jaw. Honmund fell back clutching his mouth, oozing blood through his fingers. The Prisoner shook like a madwoman, fettered to the ground by the guards' shackle-like grip. "Zu'u fen shik nau hin qeth, mey!" she spat back at the man, fighting with all her strength to flee herself - if only to jump on Honmund and throttle his neck. Joric bent over to help the fallen Honmund, but was shoved aside when the angry guard stood up and walked over to the Prisoner. His face a bloody mess not unlike hers, Honmund snapped at the others: "We done playin' games with this lutka." With that, as the Prisoner glared at him with a mix of hatred and satisfaction, Honmund stood next to her; then, at a pace of complete leisure, he bent his leg and brought his shin crushing down on the Prisoner's left leg. For a moment, none said anything and nothing was heard: then, the Prisoner's howl of pain pierced the dungeon as her leg twisted in awkward angles. "Can it! Can it, strumpet!" Honmund yelled over her, as he bent down and took her right leg in his arms. "We ain't even begun yet - ya'll get to scream later!" Then, Honmund stretched her other leg into the air before crushing her knee with his elbow, and another terrible scream of pain filled the cell. He dropped her leg, which wobbled about broken and formless. The Prisoner's howls filled the air and tears ran streaking her bloodied face, inflaming the men's lust even more. Honmund took a step back, and called to her. "Well! We can't seem to get it together and talk like civilized folks - so, until passions've calmed down, talk to the other fellas." At his sign, the other guardsmen pounced on her. One straddled her waist with his long cock on his hands, and aimed it at her mouth. "Open those lips o'yars - do it!" he barked at her. Sunken in pain, she didn't even notice the guard, and this infuriated him. "Why ain't she even - hey! Hey!" he barked at her, but she didn't stir; her glare had gone misty, as if a veil had been dropped onto her eyes. "If she's swoonin' on us," Honmund called, sitting on a stool, "just bring 'er back. And make it hurt." The other guards snickered at his comment and grabbed the whimpering Prisoner by her shoulders. Then they flipped her over, so her bare breasts chafed against the cell's mucky floor. She offered no resistance as they tore off her pants, ripping them from the knees to the waist and exposing her fleshy cheeks. "Ho!" one of the guards exclaimed. "She not only cusses like a man: she sports a man's arse too!" The men emitted all manner of sounds, ranging from disapproving to mocking. "What'd ya expect from a she-warrior? Ha! All that time bouncin' up-n-down on the saddle must've made her ass harder than any good poundin' can!" "Agh, so what of it? I'm getting me a piece of her anyways!" called Joric, now cock in hand and fondling with her cheeks. Stepping in between her legs, Joric rested his thighs on the Prisoner's and with his hand opened her hole up, pushing her cheeks aside. Slowly he squirmed his finger inside and she moaned at the intrusion; but soon he leaned down and - gradual but steadily - he entered her fully, feeling her insides drawing him in deeper and deeper. A shiver ran down the Prisoner's back and she groaned a pain-filled groan. She was slowly coming to again. "No... no... you... fuckers!" Honmund, sitting on the stool and watching the scene unfold, slapped his knee. "Ha! I told ya, fellas: we'd sooner or later stir life back into her." The guards laughed at the pun, and Joric settled in inside her. The Prisoner yawped as if impaled, but nobody took notice. "Well, I don't give three shits if she's awake or asleep," he offered, "but I sure damn love me some warm, alert arsehole milkin' me!" He then grabbed her elbows like a horse's reins: and he began pounding her like he'd ride a horse. "Ogh! - agh! - ogh! - ogh! - " she kept uttering as Joric left and entered her, over and over again. *****