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The General Ch. 01

By: Freagra



Introduction

This is a work in progress. It begins with how Jenny met and enjoyed some passionate sex with the General, telling herself that it was just some exotic interlude to entertain her while she was overseas, only to find out it was a lot more! Because of the nature of the story the first half may not interest some readers, while the second half may not appeal to others. Those who prefer to ignore how Jenny played the General can cut straight to the chase can find "The General: Part Two" on the Non-consent/Reluctance story list. Those who want to enjoy the entire thing, read on.

*

It was flattering to be asked to be a key note speaker this early in my career as a researcher, but everyone warned me that this remote African country was not safe for a white man to visit, let alone a single white woman. In some ways it was those comments that decided me. You'd think that now I had the title of doctor before my name I'd be less irresponsible but I still had that rebellious and defiant attitude. Still, I did think long and hard before accepting the invitation to present at the plenary session of the conference. 

The country was beautiful, but right from the beginning I knew I had to take care. The looks I got from the locals were more than curious. Some of them were openly hostile and the men looked me up and down with obvious interest, both because I was white and an attractive woman. The hotel staff warned me not to go outside the hotel grounds without an escort, and even then preferably in a large group. It was a simple fact that this country was in a state of flux, with law and order low on the list of the new priorities. The hotel was full of uniformed men because the conference organisers had asked the army to act as security. 

Even the General of the Defence Force was there. One of my fellow researchers snorted when he told me about it and remarked that "The General" couldn't resist the public relations opportunity to join the international group that was attending. It was still a surprise on that first evening, as I sat at the hotel bar for a pre-dinner drink, when Alex, the conference administrator, brought "The General" over and introduced him. "Jenny, this is General Jxxxx. He demanded that I introduce you as soon as he saw you walk in. You have obviously won a heart. Be careful." His voice was light hearted, but the last part held a hint of concern. I stood and turned from the small group of fellow researchers I was talking with to see just who I had managed to attract and who the all important "The General" really was. 

It was still novel for me to be a land where almost everyone was black and I found myself checking him out before meeting his eyes. The General was in his late forties, hard bodied and not handsome, but certainly compelling. A typical soldier, I thought a little cynically. At almost six feet he was big compared to my small five foot three frame and solid without being fat. The civilian clothes he was wearing did nothing to hide the muscles in his thighs or his broad shoulders. When my eyes finally returned to his face it was to meet eyes so dark they were definitely black. In fact they were a little angry by the time I met his look. He was obviously not used to having anyone look him up and down so curiously, but then, probably everyone in this country knew him. For a brief moment I felt sorry for any private who upset this soldier if my momentary lapse of manners had roused that flash of anger. 

"Hiya, I'm Jenny." I stuck my hand out for him to shake. His posture relaxed slightly and a glint of amusement buried the heat in those black eyes.

"Doctor," was the formal reply. "I would be honoured if you would join my friends and I for dinner. It will give us a chance to get to know each other." 

I was amused – his manners were very direct and just what I was in the mood for: a man to flatter me and some company for dinner other than the usual folk and the usual talk about research and funding bodies. It would even be a chance to get a feel for the way the country was going, straight from the horse's mouth, as it were.

"Sure, I'd love to." 

Silly, silly me, but that was how it began. 

_________________________

The General stayed close to me while we ate. I could feel his body heat as we sat at the table with local politicians and upper echelon officers. If I turned my head I could see he was looking at me the same way I often studied a problem in my research. It was obvious he wanted more than to just look. Despite heading towards my mid-thirties I knew I was attractive -- not beautiful, but memorable. Green eyes, red hair, perhaps lacking a little in the curve department, but fit and lithe. It was a combination that actually made me more desirable now I was mature and not a gangling, shy teenager. Plus, I also knew I was successful in my own sphere – a career woman with a big future, so confident of myself. However, it was still arousing to know that this man, also important and influential in his own country, was so obviously interested in me. 

It also became obvious that the General was skilled in his strategy. As the night progressed my wine glass was never empty. This was caution enough and I left the glass full and switched to water – it would not do to get drunk. In some ways, I was already. The exotic surroundings and the powerful men around the table were exciting. The General was getting under my skin, stirring my senses. His hand rested gently on my arm as we chatted and I was acutely aware of when he moved it to sip from his own glass. I found myself missing its heat and leaning closer and closer towards him. 

He was good company, but it crossed my mind, as I turned to laugh at something he said, that I was carefully being shown off in the same way I would show a prize horse at home. He was making sure I was involved in the conversation, almost encouraging me to reveal how high I was in the hierarchy of my research company and how much my work was valued. His hand caressed the length of my back, encouraging me to lean back into it emphasising my curves to the watching men. I realised I liked it. It was a heady feeling to be a lone woman among these men and have them look at me with that certain hunger that hinted at lust as well as respect. 

The meal drew to an end and I stood to leave. The General rose with me. I smiled and told him to stay with his friends to talk. He smiled back at me, amused at my obvious attempt to leave alone. Drawing me gently toward him he brushed my cheek with a chaste kiss and turned to sit down. I was surprised at the ease with which he'd given up and the feeling that I was suddenly shut out of the group around the table. I nodded farewell at the other men around the table and walked slowly back to my room. It seemed I could still feel the heat of his body against mine and the brush of his lips against my cheek. I sighed, feeling cheated at the loss of the company and fumbled the key in the lock to open the door. On the floor was a small white folded paper. 

Closing the door I bent and picked up the white square and opened it. The black writing was as strong and direct as the man that wrote it: "I'll be over at 2200, open the door and don't keep The General outside or I'll call for reinforcements." Cheeky devil, I thought as the laughter bubbled inside. He had realised I'd play the coquette and cut me off at the pass. He had even used the name the delegates had dubbed him with as though it was a compliment. 

I sat before the mirror and asked myself if I would do it, if I'd really open the door to a man I hardly knew, let alone to a man from a culture vastly different to mine and with a reputation for being ruthless. Would he really order his soldiers up to get the door open for him if I pretended to be asleep? The serious face reflected back at me from the mirror couldn't, or wouldn't, answer any of those questions.

In the end the door did open. My poor General was anticipating a slower seduction, with him taking the lead, but instead found me already naked and lustful. I'd spent too long in front of the mirror wondering what it would be like to feel his black cock slide into me. He was stripped naked in no time and offered my willing mouth to kiss. My readiness was an obvious surprise, and he was stunned to be pushed to the bed and straddled by a white witch who leaned against him and whispered in his ear, "Don't take it personally, General, it's just a fuck." My hands fumbled at the buttons, then the belt. His protests that it was more than just a fuck just made me laugh and whisper more insistently, "No, Sir, it's just fucking. Don't worry about it. I want it. I've been thinking about it since I got your note." 

I guided his head to my breast and demanded he suck it as I settled his already rock hard cock between my legs. He abandoned the pretence of protesting that this was more than just naked desire for both of us and gave me what I needed – telling me he wanted to have all of my holes, that he wanted to fuck me in the mouth, in the arse and drink me all night long. Aaah, he showed admirable control and stopped himself from losing it when I finally slid down him to suck his cock and lick his balls. He even controlled himself when he finally found the tight little asshole after working his cock in and out of my wet cunt so many times I was sweating and biting his arm to stop the cries. Only when I'd whimpered into the pillow "Yes, yes, yes," and turned my head to cry "Come inside me, deep inside, please," did he let go with a hard cry as his hands pulled me against him.

His mouth sought mine as I rolled over and pulled the sheet up and nestled into the pillow. "Make some room," he muttered as he tried to push me over on the double bed. 

"No," I pouted. "You can't spend the night here, it wouldn't be proper." He looked at me for a long time before getting up, dressing slowly and going to leave. "Kiss me before you go," I demanded and enjoyed the feel of his mouth, his tongue dancing on mine until I gently pushed him away saying that we both must get some sleep.

In the morning The General joined me for breakfast and asked how I could look at him so innocently and distantly, adding that he felt like he had run a marathon and was so sore. I just smiled and asked him if he'd missed his watch. He cursed softly in his own language as he realised it was no longer on his wrist. I laughingly slid it across the table saying I had contemplated keeping it as a trophy, but that I was sure his men would notice its absence, especially given the insignia engraved on it. All that day I knew he watched me as I treaded between conference sessions and chatted to colleagues during the breaks. Yet I deliberately ignored him, making sure I was always in company so that he had no chance to talk to me alone. That night I slept like a baby and ignored the instant buzz of the telephone by my bed, smiling to myself and letting my hand seek the warmth between my legs as it rang again and again. 

_________________________

On the last day the General found me between sessions at the conference and asked when I was flying out. I knew he'd already checked with the concierge and found out that the room had been booked by my agent until Sunday morning. With an expression of sweet innocence I said I was flying out on Friday morning – there was too much work to do at home and the conference was wrapping up, so I'd changed everything; I just hadn't had time to let the hotel know I'd be leaving early. (ED: This sentence read awkwardly so I rearranged it. I did not change any of the actual text.) His eyes went cold so quickly I was almost convinced I was imagining it, but almost immediately he was smiling slightly again and asking if he'd see me before I left. 

My mind recalled the way his mouth felt against my clitoris and the passion he could rouse. I wasn't strong enough, or cruel enough, to deny myself, let alone him. Sliding past him to the next talkfest I looked sideways and said, "See you at 2200 tonight. My door will be open. No need to call the army to help." The rest of the day I made sure we did not cross paths too closely, but noticed him looking at me every now and then – contemplating his strategy or contemplating my capriciousness.

I was working on my computer when he arrived. The brilliant green, white and silver of my soft cotton wrap highlighted my white skin, the green in my eyes and my slender body. I stood to greet him as he came in. If I had been more honest with myself I would have admitted I'd risen to my feet to flaunt the way the wrap clung to my small breasts as I leaned back slightly to greet him. "Evening, General," I tossed at him light-heartedly. The General rested one hand on my shoulder as he looked down and whistled quietly. He was waiting to see how I would react – was I the cold English doctor I'd been over the last few days or the wanton I'd been on the night I'd opened the door? 

"That wrap suits you," he said. "Please don't call me General, I'm just Jxxxx." I tilted my head back and drew his head down, offering my mouth to kiss. He did so willingly, getting more demanding as I melted against his body, my hands wrapping around his hard, muscled body. Confidently he led me to the bed and laid me down, pushing the wrap apart to reveal small breasts and pale skin all the way down to the curled red bush. I watched his face as he drank in the contrasts – green cloth, white skin, red hair and his black hand cupping one soft breast. 

Noticing me watching he returned to kissing, his tongue tasting the inside of my mouth in the same way he would later taste the juices from my cunt. I sighed in pleasure, anticipating that very feeling, and let him undo the knot that held the wrap in place, enjoying the way he gently pushed the last of the cloth away from my body to reveal me naked and willing, his hand tracing the soft curves. Rapidly he stripped himself naked, his muscled black body gleaming in the lamplight, while I studied the his every move. He worked his way down my body, kissing and licking as he went until I could feel his hot mouth between my legs. "General," I gasped. 

He paused long enough to mutter, "I don't call you doctor, don't call me General." 

I laughed and called him General a little more breathlessly as his tongue went to work. It was wonderful to lie there and let him bring me to my first orgasm. For a brief moment I wondered if I'd let him continue until I was exhausted with passion again but there was a large mirror over the dresser and decided I wanted to see his black body pound me doggie style. He was surprised when I wriggled away from him and stood up.

Impatiently I said, "Come here." I grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the bed. He was puzzled until I bent over facing the mirror and parted the curves of my buttocks to reveal the glistening wet opening of my pussy, the folds opening like the petals of a flower to reveal the nectar within. 

"You sweet bitch, you are hot," I heard him whisper to himself as he grabbed my hips and plunged within. He was watching in the mirror as well. I laughed up at him as his cock slipped into my eager body and then braced to feel the long deep stroking. Yes – this was what I wanted; his rock hard cock penetrating the slippery wetness of my cunt. I reached back to feel his balls as the slammed against me with each stroke. "No – look at yourself in the mirror," I heard him say. I ignored him and leaned down to place my hands on the floor between my legs, bracing and positioned for maximum thrust. 

I needed his hands on my waist to keep me balanced as he drove in hard and deep, rocking me against the shaft. I closed my eyes and grunted as he hit home before briefly wondering if he'd lose it all too soon. The General must have wondered the same thing because he stopped deep inside me and repeated the command to watch in the mirror. I groaned and tried to restore the pounding rhythm. He shuffled back, pulling me with him until I had to grab the dresser or lose my balance. It was enough for him to grab my hair and pull me up to watch him in the mirror. 

For a little while I let him, watching with pleasure as his dark body built up a sweat behind me and my breasts swung with each thrust. Then a quick twist and a sharp bite on the hand made him stop. I had surprised him again, just long enough for me to pull away and drop to my knees to lick my fluids from his heavy black balls, feeling the soft movement of the skin and the hard testes within. There was no doubt he was enjoying this and gave a long groan of pleasure. 

I felt his hands move gently on my hair as my lips shaped themselves over the swollen head of his cock and my mouth sucked the shaft into my mouth. For a long while all that could be heard was his gasped breath and the wet slurping sounds. The General was still in control enough to pull away before it was too late. He dragged me to the bed, manhandling me into position and spreading my legs for a long slow look before his mouth closed over the clitoris and he began sucking the hard nub into his mouth. I was at a fever pitch and lost myself in an orgasm almost straight away. "Go on sweeting, scream," I heard him say.

It was enough to bring me back to myself. "General, be discreet – the walls are like paper." I smiled softly at his obvious annoyance at my lack of compliance. 

He lifted and dragged me to the edge, and positioned himself between my legs, looking down to growl, "Don't call me General, say my name." 

I taunted him as he slid his cock into my cunt. "General, General, General." The word became softer, slower and more desperate as he began the slow stroking, his thumb caressing my clitoris with each stroke and his face watching mine as I lifted my hips to seek the rising orgasm. Finally I couldn't say it; I couldn't even say his name, only pant as the orgasms rocked me. 

As the spasms subsided he leaned in, his body covering mine and he whispered into my ear, "Say my name." 

"No," I hissed back, and languidly lifted my hips again to soften the denial.

It was enough to rouse him into saying, "Oh, sweeting, you shouldn't have refused." I remember thinking what an odd thing it was to say. The thought was forgotten as he began to stroke deep and hard, his hand capturing one breast as he worked ever more deeper, his body rubbing against my clitoris, withdrawing enough to make me groan, wanting him hard against me again. The next orgasm began to build and I found myself turning my head to bite against his wrist to silence the scream as my body lifted to meet his thrusts. "Yes, yes," I heard him exalt. "Come all over me." I hardly needed the coaxing and exploded. My bite must have been painful but he didn't pull away. As my body stopped bucking he rolled me gently on top of him, his hands kneading each breast, the thumbs circling the nipples until they were aching with pleasure. "Fuck me, sweeting, come on, come all over me".

Such a command was not one I felt inclined to defy and I complied with abandon, riding his hard cock slowly, sweetly or hard and fast as the orgasms took me, all the while with his hands caressing my breasts. I had to smile at the seriousness of his face as he watched me arch achingly against him and orgasm just one more time. He pulled me closer, whispering into my ear, "Say my name, say you like my black cock."

Taunting him again as my hips rocked on his cock, I said, "General, it's just a fuck, do you hear me, it's just a fuck."

He growled denial at me but didn't move and I lifted off him to go down along his stomach and take his black cock in my mouth. I heard him say again, "Tell me you like my black cock." I just shook my head slightly as my mouth stretched over the dark column and engulfed it. I was impressed that he had not come yet. Any other lover I had usually lost it once I started to come in shivering, gasping, rolling orgasms. 


The General Ch. 01



Her presentation ran long. The audience of military men would have grown restless if not mesmerized by the curvaceous figure parading before them. "As you'll see on the next slide...," trailed from her red lips -- her intelligent words wasted on the deafness of distracted men. Locked levels beneath the ground in a room absent of décor, Melanie stood before the group as the only decoration.

"Please pass these around," she added, distributing hand-outs to the group of 10 beset to endure another long meeting. But it was the speaker, not the topic, commanding their attention today. 

Melanie was a career girl -- a respected young member of a trusted agency. Tall and tender with buxom curves, her pin-up girl body belittled her business-like demeanor. Wide hips. A thick round ass. Full breasts hung heavily from her chest. Such bountiful curves accentuated her hourglass figure and hyper-sexualized an otherwise humble woman's appearance. 

Despite her attempts at professionalism, their primal eyes demeaned her as she moved about the room. The swish of her fitted wool skirt on stockings. The undulation of her breasts as she walked. The men studied her carefully. She was beautiful -- almost doll-like! Her alabaster skin appeared silky and smooth. Wavy auburn hair spilled past her shoulders and stretched hungrily toward her C-cup breasts. Red lips sharply contrasted her pale complexion. Yet it was the cat-like appearance of her eyes -- brilliant and bright green -- that furthered her unspoken sexuality.

Her greatest admirer, a General, sat commandingly front and center. His soldiers aligned neatly behind him. The General was an intimidating character; silver-haired and grizzled with the lines of age and experience. He sat tall and still. His unmistakable presence subordinated everyone without a word. There were no wasted motions; no nods of assurance. Concise questions and commands were blurted abruptly against the echoes of bare walls. His intense stare fixated on the subject matter and then the voluptuous specimen trying to command his respect. 

The General was fond of Melanie. He desired her. But the occasional involuntary twinge in his groin angered him over his lack of self control. Melanie could feel his stares, feeling almost nude while still fully clothed. She awkwardly buttoned her suit coat as he gazed heavily on her thin white blouse. No expression crossed the General's face -- nor did her obvious discomfort avert his stare. 

The cat-and-mouse game had begun.

The mere turn of his head brought staff to the General's side. "Set the temperature to 85," he said quietly. The camouflage-clad soldier saluted him and abruptly left the room. Seemingly content with his request, the General returned his attention to the content. Melanie continued.

As moments passed, the room's humidity rose. Her nerves, the projector and her snug wool suit only compounded the problem. Soldiers fidgeted in their seats, the least disciplined fanning themselves in the back row. They were hot. But Melanie was sweltering! The sweat on her neck moistened the underside of her thick, long hair. She felt a distinct dampness beneath her breasts, under her arms and in the intimate folds of her panties. 

Yet the General's face wasn't soiled by emotion. No sweat beaded his brow. His cheeks were not flush. He simply sat and observed his play thing until his first goal was achieved. 

The General wickedly enjoyed Melanie's awkward self-awareness and the shameful indecision on her face. Her pale cheeks glowed red. Her voice was more breathy and exaggerated. Melanie was clearly uncomfortable ... yet she clung to her wool suit coat like a safety net. "But why," he pondered.

"Of all days not to wear a bra," she thought. Expecting to be neatly undercover, she allowed herself the hidden pleasure of going without today. Melanie enjoyed the contrast of silk and rough wool brushing against her thick nipples. It was her dirty little secret, heightening her sexual senses before the eyes of unwitting strangers. But for an audience to know her perversion -- especially an audience as astute and masculine as this one -- would be utter humiliation. Melanie's playful frivolousness quickly turned to regret as she humbly pondered the possibilities. 

The General drank in her discomfort and patiently awaited her decent into his plan. "Such innocence and predictability," he thought. He loathed her weakness and the frailties that desiring such a woman implied. 

Feeling nearly faint, Melanie couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. With a deep breath, staring blankly at the wall, she flipped open the buttons of her coat. Arching her back to dip the coat off her shoulders, the General's goal was realized. Melanie's breasts pressed firmly against the flimsy material and swayed side to side as she shimmied from her coat. More and more of her hourglass profile came into view, including the faint outline of her large, brown nipples. The soldiers stared wide-eyed at the erotic display. 

"Oh my God," she thought, as she saw the stunned expressions of her all-male audience. Her breasts bounced and swayed freely as she shed her top layer. 

Embarrassed, Melanie quickly turned her back to hang up her coat. "You can do this," she thought as she briefly collected her nerves. A deep breath and a turn brought her immediately back into control -- pending a small pause for her breasts to stop bouncing from the movement. Despite her predicament, Melanie pressed on. 

A silent distraction, her heavy breasts bounced with every step or gesture. Each undulation shuttering mixed emotions of shame and exhibitionistic pleasure. Warm sensations radiated from her most intimate areas. She was daftly nervous, but slightly aroused. The masculine men stared wantonly at her body. Corny, over-exaggerated expressions were shared by the classless few. Such attention could've been fun ... anywhere else but here. Determined not to be dismissed as some mindless piece of meat, Melanie emphatically drove her points home.

The General was pleased by her resilience, but more so by her malleability. 

The heat continued to rise in the small windowless room. Faint discoloration beneath her breasts and arms hinted at the moisture collecting on her skin. As her perspiration grew, the moisture clung the fabric to her skin, putting the most delicate curves of her upper body on full display. The teardrop shape of her large, natural breasts. The fold of skin where they lie heavily against her ribs. Little by little, her body betrayed her, stripping her bare before her audience. What Melanie didn't realize was how see-though the silk had become. Dark, circular outlines clearly defined her puffy nipples and the tiny belly button just above her skirt line.

Her breasts no longer swung gently across the sheer silk. Every shimmer in her tender breast flesh was obvious; the silk clinging to every move like a rodeo cowboy. The soldiers cleared their throats and licked their lips, trying to regain moisture past slow, ragged breaths. Melanie's unbridled femininity was almost palatable and being drunken in by a very captive audience. Yet Melanie continued on.

Overcompensating for her self-consciousness, Melanie commandingly pressed forward. Blocking the shameful, if not somewhat erotic, scenario from her mind, she worked diligently to make hard-hitting points to the team. Sweaty or not, she had her own goal to achieve. Confidently, she stepped into the crowd and knelt quickly to gather handouts near the General's feet. 

The fitted wool skirt ascended her thighs with a swish. The sudden movement caused a cool gust of air to woft between Melanie's clinched thighs into the sweaty confines of her tight skirt. A pleasant surprise, she thought, until she sensed the tangy odor of her very sweaty womanhood. "Oh dear God no," she thought as a panicked look crossed her face, "can they smell me?" 

The General, calmly spying a hint of lace atop her thigh-high stockings, broke character as the primal smell crossed his nostrils. He drew a deep, inhaling breath as a glassy, aroused look overtook his stare. Lustfully looking across the prone woman, he stared directly into her panicked eyes in full recognition of her predicament. Primal instincts clinched his manhood like an invisible glove, swelling his penis slightly in an urgent desire to erupt. 

Melanie's soul sunk as she fought tears from welling into her eyes. She broke her gaze away from the General and quickly rose to distribute the papers, spreading her scent further across the room with each step. 

The air in the room was already humid and thick. And it was now ripe with the smell of sweat and womanhood. Having menstruated the week before, the scent of her pussy was warm and musky and easily distinguished amidst the stale corporate air. She nearly died of embarrassment as the soldiers coughed and smirked, clearly recognizing the familiar pheromones. The room was visibly disturbed as soldiers shuffled aroused in their seats. Involuntarily, Melanie's pelvic muscles contracted, knowing how intimately these men now knew her.

Desperately needing to regain control, Melanie stepped before the old projector to highlight the document they just received. Engrossed in her thoughts, she discussed line by line, oblivious to the effects of the harsh white light on her now-translucent top. The thin, white material -- which already clung to her curves -- was all but invisible. Every detail of her magnificent upper body was on display. The General stared intently from the front row. He could see every bump that speckled the edges of her areola. The sacred circles of her thick, eraser-like teats were in clear view. Melanie appeared topless before the stunned team.

Supple and sublime, she was a stunning sight. But blinded by the glow, she could not see the wide-eyed expressions beset on the horny crowd's faces. Melanie could only hear the shuffling and screeching of chairs as her attendees squirmed through the pangs of arousal stabbing at their groins. 

She herself was suffering a little. The sweat. The temperature. The heavy scent of her womanhood. The room wreaked of sex, which only furthered the moistening of her sweaty inner thighs. Completing her slide, Melanie stepped from the light to nine open-mouthed gazes. Assuming they were overwhelmed with the content, Melanie conceded. "Let's take a 15-minute break," she said. "Is that okay, General?" And nod and an abrupt "Yes" was his only response. The soldiers awkwardly rose to their feet, each concealing and adjusting their manhood. 

Grabbing her purse, Melanie quickly scurried to the door, awkwardly tugging at the sweat-soaked shirt that clung tight to her body. Swinging open the door, a gust of cool air met Melanie's sweaty skin. A chill instantly shuddered up her spine! Melanie felt goosebumps raise on her skin and the instinctive hardening of her nipples beneath her shirt. Her puffy areolas stiffened and shrunk, protruding her knuckle-sized teats outward like buds against the damp material. It happened in an instant but played like slow motion to the engaged eyes of the General. 

Melanie clumsily covered herself, pretending to scratch her collarbone, and quickly dipped out the door. The click of her heels echoed as she trotted down the empty hallway toward the ladies room. 

Sinisterly admiring Melanie's timidness, embarrassment and weakness in the face of external stimuli, the General longed to see more.

A second look over his shoulder brought another soldier to the General's side. "Set the thermostat to 50 degrees," he commanded. A sharp salute and a "yes sir" sent the subordinate off to his task.

Safely in the ladies room, Melanie was stunned at her current state! In the mirror stood a near-naked woman, drenched in sweat and blotchy makeup. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she did her best to cool down. "Come on, Melanie, you can handle this," she whispered confidently. 

Assessing the situation, she looked very slutty. Cringing at the thought of looking this way before the team, Melanie quickly went to work. She slinked out of her wet blouse and draped it over the vanity.

"PLEASE don't let anyone come through that door," she thought. Bare breasted and bent sharply over the sink, she splashed cool water across her chest and face. Clumsily patting herself dry -- her underarms and chest and beneath each breast -- she paused only for a moment at the sexual site in the mirror. The twinge in her panties reminded her of her other predicament. 

Collecting her shirt, she dashed into the stall and quickly closed the door. A long zip at the hip and she slithered like a snake to escape the fitted wool skirt and wet panties that clung sticky to her crevices. Finally to her ankles, Melanie lowered her bare bottom to the toilet seat and spread her knees. Her musky aroma erupted upward as the distinct smell of her familiar womanhood crested her nostrils. The hybrid stench of sweat and secretions titillated her mind as she slid two fingers over her pussy, gently spreading the lips open then pinching and pulling them through her knuckles. No time for delight, Melanie resumed her business. 

Producing a sealed towelette from her purse, Melanie unwrapped it and drug in firmly over her wet womanhood. A slight gasp crossed her lips as her finger dipped gently inside herself to collect the sticky wetness that collected there. The cool towelette was soothing and made her feel fresh and clean again. The finishing touch, a spritz of perfume on her thumb-sized patch of pubic hair, helped downplay her natural aroma. Pleased with herself, she rose, guiding her cheekie lace panties -- still moist -- back into their secret position. Her fitted skirt followed as she prayed her thin shirt had dried in the cool air. No such luck! Though not saturated, the thin silk still clung characteristically to her every curve as she put it back on. Her nipples, still semi-erect in the cool washroom, pressed visibly against the fabric. This would have to do. 

A quick retouch of her makeup and Melanie scampered quickly down the hallway. Her breasts still unrestrained, she did her best to move quickly but confidently, meeting turned heads eye to eye with a winning smile. It was time to get back on her game!

Back at the room, everyone was again seated. Shame met her at the door as the heat and her faint musky scent escaped the opening. "Let's leave the door open for a bit," she stated. "Is that ok, General," she asked? He nodded in silence. 

Still too warm for her suit coat, Melanie lasered in on her presentation. She ignored the pendulous movements of her breasts. She moved past the nonchalant stares at the clingy silk shirt. She must endure.

The familiar hum of the air conditioning gave her new hope. Yet she was painfully unaware of the next extreme it represented. 

Moments passed as Melanie skillfully navigated her presentation. Her renewed focus and the steady cooling of the room rebuilt her confidence. But like a rollercoaster clanking up a steep incline, the General silently reveled in anticipation -- patiently awaiting the sharp fall ahead. Her eyes were bright; her smile was even brighter. The General could see pride in her eyes, which he could joyfully steal on a whim. The higher she rose, the more crushing the fall. Such power excited him ... especially over such a desirable victim. The General could feel a lingering tingle in his groin now and the thickening of his limp penis as it swelled against his uniform.

It was the game that excited him. His luscious new plaything simply made it more rewarding. Making others cower to his will was his specialty. And Melanie's unique combination of supple subjection and resilience only enamored him more. He would conquer her. And now, he was more intent than ever.

Amidst his hardening thoughts, the first signs of progress caught his eye. 

The temperature in the room finally began to dip. The General smiled inwardly as Melanie unwittingly kneaded her hands, relieving the ache tormenting her cold knuckles. It would only be moments now. 

Stepping into the crowd, just a few feet before the General, she fielded a question from a soldier in the back. Her fresh perfume, applied intimately in the ladies room, teased his nostrils. Her silk blouse, now dry and loose, draped nicely from the tips of her teardrop tits. The bottom of her blouse still tucked neatly into her fitted wool skirt, which flared out dramatically in a deadly grip to retain her broad, feminine hips. Melanie was all woman! She was all the things every primal urge demanded to fuck! And her soft flesh just fueled those guttural tendencies. 

Every man in her life secretly envisioned gripping and squeezing her disproportionate, Jessica-Rabbit-like curves. Crushing her soft tits in their hands; squeezing and spreading handfuls of her tender ass meat as they splay her unrestrained onto their invading cocks; each fantasy more aggressive than the next. Every tantalizing vision seduced the blurry-eyed audience without her intent. Common sense and decency meant nothing! Despite kindness and intelligence, nature clearly dominated Melanie's place in society, spawning a line of jealous women and over-aggressive men. Drifting thoughts by the meeting-weary attendees kept their knees squirming in uncomfortable arousal -- another telltale behavior spied by the keen General.

Melanie drew a deep calming breath and set to answer the next question. But as the cool air rasped through her nostrils, another chill danced playfully up her spine. Melanie wiggled in discomfort, pendulating her breasts as tiny goosebumps littered her fair skin. An instant distraction -- for both Melanie and the men -- her gyration didn't go unnoticed as the chill again gripped her nipples, hardening them against the thin silk. Like icicles extending from the rooftops, her nipples stabbed outwardly, struggling to free themselves from her chilled flesh. 

Twenty eyes widened across the room, but none more than Melanie's. "Oh my God," she thought! She had almost forgotten about being braless under her thin silk shirt. And as the General predicted, panic again flashed brilliantly across her green eyes. Wide, round and breathtaking, these flares of fear shined like a beacon to the experienced General's senses. Shamefully, Melanie again lowered her head and quickly retreated to retrieve her coat. Her back briefly turned to the audience, her breasts were again nestled within the warm confines of her wool suit. The cycle had been completed. 

"How about we open the door again," she chuckled awkwardly? "Would that be ok, General?" Unable to restrain a devious smile, the General broke character. "Certainly," he bolstered in response. The General was now completely engaged.

Small, subtle nuances intrigued him. Her instinctual shame over her own sensuality; her body's extreme response to mild stimuli; but most importantly, Melanie's drastic shifts between helplessness and resolve; the General fascinated over her like a scientist with a new element. 

A combination of curiosity and anger again stirred within the General. Melanie plagued his thoughts and stole control from his celebrated, well-disciplined behavior. He wanted to punish her! Painfully. Pleasurefully. Impractically. All met his perversions to explore her intimate limits -- an urge stronger than his own sexual gratification.

The General again summoned a soldier to his side, a young subordinate to carry out his will. "Remove her entrance from today's visitation log," he said quietly. "Execute the change personally and return here by 1800 hours." And away he went. 

Meanwhile, Melanie closed her presentation, paraded one last time through the small room with her final handout. "This last document contains my hours, contact info and travel itinerary in case you have any questions," she said. While the soldiers' eyes trailed her heart-shaped bottom around the room, the General studied the document. Today ended her itinerary. Her prefix was "Ms." Her company wasn't "government" at all; she was a subcontractor. His calculating mind summed up one learning -- Melanie wouldn't be missed for days.




The General Ch. 01



****

And the fun is just beginning. Check back for more soon. And please comment, rate and share your thoughts. I hope you enjoy reading this fantasy as much as I'm enjoying writing it! 

~ kisses, ... Melanie 

****



The General Ch. 02



Introduction

For those who skipped the first part of the story: Jenny had left her wild interlude with the General behind and was heading back to the routine of research and academia. However, everything was not to go so smoothly and Jenny was about to learn something that would become very important in her life.

*

I woke early and showered contentedly. The interlude had been pleasant but it was time for me to become the career doctor again and return to the corridors of academia and research. I took breakfast in my room, a little sheepishly because I actually didn't want to say goodbye to The General, and slipped down after everyone had left for the conference to check out and take a taxi to the airport. Everything seemed quiet and I was a little surprised I had not received a knock on my door. Strangely, that made me discontent - it seemed out of character for the General, who had been so direct earlier. Perhaps he had accepted the inevitable Friday departure. 

Shrugging the feeling of faint regret away I headed to the Customs Barrier to present my passport and tickets. The long queue shuffled forward and finally I faced the dark faced, uniformed Customs Officer. He took my passport and ticket, asking my name as he glanced at the passport. He paused and took a long look at the passport. For a moment I thought my changed flight details were giving him cause to double check passport and itinerary, but he unsmilingly shut my passport and gestured to the right, where two other customs officers stood. "Please accompany these officers, Doctor." 

My startled look and the beginning of a question were cut short as the one of the men gently took my arm and steered me away from the curious eyes and ripple of interest from the waiting queues. Annoyance built at this cavalier treatment and I said to myself if this was the General's idea of a joke I'd have a few words to say, but I kept telling myself it must be the changed flight details as we walked in silence to an interview room. 

I turned to ask for an explanation, only to have the door close firmly behind my escort. The empty silence of the room pressed in and I felt the first stirring of doubt - just what the hell was going on? Falling back on my usual pragmatism I settled down to wait in the wooden chair next to the small table. It was nothing, I kept telling myself, and contemplated getting the laptop out to start reviewing a paper destined, or maybe not depending on my decision as to its merit, for a scientific Journal. 

However, the slight unease prevented me from doing so and I found myself pretending to go over my conference notes, making meaningless corrections along the edge of the notepad. I wondered when someone would come back or if they would come back before I really needed to visit the "Ladies." Annoyance faded to calmness as I worked on familiar thing and I didn't even bother to look up as I heard the door open, merely remarking, "I really would like to ring my Embassy NOW."

The door closed, but there was no answer and I looked up a little crossly. "Jxxxx, thank goodness. Just what is going on?" I stood up, all thoughts of having a few words about his arrogant way of ensuring I said goodbye gone. I was just pleased to see his solid dark shape, even if he was in unfamiliar crisp green colours of an army uniform. He padded over to the table and looked at me, his face impassive. 

"Doctor," he began. The look and tone of his voice alerted me to something. What that something was I wasn't quite sure, but a sudden wave of cold weakness ran from the pit of my stomach down my legs and up to my throat and I found myself sitting in the chair, hands resting on the table to still them. 

"Jxxxx--" I tried again but he was not being very helpful. 

"You were reluctant to use that name earlier," he interrupted and continued coolly, "You won't use it again

"Then tell me what's going on, why am I here?"

He sat on the table next to me and looked down. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye. I can't allow that."

How could he not allow that, I wondered. Then it hit me - he could, he had. Here in his country he was an important man and this country was not like mine. Different history, different culture, different rules. Here I could disappear and, apart from an initial flurry of desperation from the Embassy, it would all die down in a week or two. I'd be just another woman who had refused to take travel advice about "dangerous places to visit." The realisation didn't take that long to sink in - I was in trouble. 

"General, what do you want?" I looked up at him, appealingly I hoped, and shifted my hand to rest on his uniformed leg. He was quiet for a long time and I found myself actually too frightened to move. The fear was like a solid ball in my throat, so tight I actually thought I would not be able to speak, even if he demanded it. 

"Tell me you want my black cock so badly you'd fuck me here across the table if I permitted it."

_________________________

The solid ball of fear got bigger and I found myself staring at the one way mirror/window at the other side of the room. My white face and startled eyes were reflected back at me but who, I wondered, might be watching through the glass. The General sighed heavily and stood up. He walked away, towards the door and I realised he'd walk through and leave me if I didn't do something. "Jxxxx...." The thoughts tumbled, I shouldn't say that, oh god, what should I say. "General, please." The wooden chair clattered to the floor as I jumped up and took three desperate steps across the space between us to cling to his hand. He turned in response to the fear in my voice and eased his hand from my grip to fold his arms across his chest, looking down at me without smiling, his black eyes unreadable. 

"I.... Oh shit.... Jxx.... General, please, this is a joke and it's not funny."

But it wasn't a joke. The hard look in his eyes told me that and, unable to stop myself, my knees buckled and I slipped to my knees, my hands dragging down his body to support my weakness. The room stopped swinging and I found myself leaning against his legs, wishing desperately that I didn't feel so much like a frightened little girl. With effort I convinced myself there was some steel in my body and looked up at him. It didn't help, because he loomed over me, distant and remote, and his face told me I only had one choice.

"General," I whispered. "Fuck me, fuck me now." 

Once I said it I realised it was true. I could feel the heat between my legs and wondered why, in this dingy interview room, with this man standing over me, I was becoming aroused. Recollection that there might be someone watching through the one way mirror only made my nipples harden and my hands tightened on his thighs before I could control the wave of need that washed over me.

He lifted me up and stepped away.

"Strip, everything off now." 

There was no hint of any gentleness in his voice. He was impatient. I could feel it, but I didn't know why, only that I'd better find a way to ease his impatience or I would regret it. I could feel the hardness of my nipples against the fabric of my bra and began to undo the buttons on my shirt, trying to catch his eyes as he watched my fingers move. The shirt dropped and I kicked off my sandals and undid my skirt to stand, embarrassed to be in this place, in this position, clad only in my white silk bra and pants.

He looked directly into my eyes then and a wave of ice cold fear washed over me. I was not mistaken in that feeling. He was going to take what he wanted and that was that. I licked suddenly dry lips and stepped back nervously.

"I do not like repeating myself," he said conversationally. "I said 'strip, everything' and I said I wanted to hear you say - what did I want you to say...."

It was not a quite question, but the tone demanded an answer and I stammered, "I want your black cock so badly that I...." My voice trembled into nothing and continued, "Please, General, please don't--"

I was unprepared for his sudden movement and the hard, controlled slap across the side of my face.

"Enough. I want to see your tits, get the rest of your clothes off."

Gulping I did what he wanted. What else could I do? The bra fell from my strangely clumsy fingers and I stumbled a little as I pulled the thin silk panties off. I stood naked and pale in the cool, dim room. All the light was on the table and I was glad that I stood facing him, my back to that cursed one way mirror and whomever might be watching. 

He smiled then, softening a little and I felt a rush of pleasure that I might be pleasing him. The moment was all too brief as he gestured to the table. There would be no compromise.

"What do you want?" he asked coolly.

The tears pricked my eyes and I said dully, "I want you to fuck me with your black cock, doggie style across the table."

He took my arm, turning me unresistingly towards the table and walked me over to it. I couldn't lift my head, thinking of the mirror and the bright light over the table, revealing everything about me to whomever might be behind the glass and I hoped there was no-one. My feet dragged but his grip was firm on my upper arm. The shame was overwhelming, but worse was the shame of the realisation that I was wet and the area between my legs was tingling. At some deep level I was responding to him and I couldn't stop it, or him. 

A push brought me to the edge of the table and I embraced the hard top willingly, pressing my breasts against the wood and turning my head to the wall, pressing the stinging cheek he had marked with his hand against the cool wood. At least no-one could see my face or my breasts, not in this position. The General was not so compassionate. His hand gripped my hair, pulling me up so that my nipples just brushed against the wood, forcing me to look at the mirror. One strong leg pushed between mine as he kicked my legs apart. Not satisfied, he kicked them wider, holding me still by my hair. 

He smiled into my eyes in the mirror and told me to stay in that position. I closed my eyes, and opened them again as I positioned myself on my elbows, seeking what little comfort I could on the hard surface. My will was slipping away as he stripped every last thought that I might retain some dignity. His repeated command to stay there didn't stop me from jumping as one hand caressed my buttocks and I heard him chuckle deep in his chest. His hand brushed over the folds around my cunt and he could feel the dampness and the heat. He pushed one finger between the folds and down to caress the nub that formed my clitoris. I groaned at the waves his touch elicited and he leaned close to my ear.

"You are so wet you are dripping, you want this, poor sweeting, you are just a cunt waiting to be filled."

My mind swung back to the night I'd whispered in his ear that it was just a fuck, that he was just a fuck. He was right. My body was telling him what my voice would not. I did want him and my cunt was aching for his cock. His finger tracing a path from cunt to clitoris made me whimper, "Please." I didn't know if the 'please' was for him to stop or continue.

____________________________

His touch stopped and I was left leaning across the table. I lifted my head to look into the mirror and watch him undoing the belt on his uniform pants, undoing the zip to release the hard shaft from his clothes. He didn't even smile at me as he moved directly behind me and I cried out as he suddenly thrust two fingers deep into my cunt, stretching and twisting inside the warm flesh.

"What do you want, sweeting?" The endearment was as humiliating as if he'd called me a whore or a slut, but I knew not to avoid answering.

"Fuck me, General." 

There was a plea in that tone. I told myself it was because I wanted the ordeal over so I could leave this damned place, but his fingers stretching open my cunt were wet and the tingling from my clitoris told me otherwise. I wanted him to fuck me. He withdrew his fingers, hands pulling my cheeks apart so he could gain better access to my exposed cunt. I dropped my head, unable to look at him or the mirror and felt the huge swollen head against the entrance. One hand left my buttocks as he guided his cock into the opening, the head resting just inside. I closed my eyes, the tears pricking against the lids as both hands gripped my hips. There was no sign of the considerate lover I'd enjoyed last night and I could not stop the cry of pain when he dragged me back against him as he slammed the full length of his cock home. 

He ignored my whimpers as he rammed his shaft in again and again. The table edge was hard against the tops of my legs and my breasts swung wildly as he fucked me. Satisfied that I could not move from beneath him his hands moved to enclose my breasts, squeezing them together, kneading them so hard I bit my lip to stop my whimpers from becoming little cries. If anything that made him more determined to elicit a response and his fingers pinched my nipples as he squeezed the soft mounds. 

"No, please, please...." 

I had not been able to prevent the words and he laughed, continuing to slam his cock deep into my unresisting body, holding me against him with his hands on my breasts as he hit deep inside. My head dropped lower as I struggled to maintain composure. What he was doing was brutal and raw. Despite my shame I realised that, at some deep level, I was enjoying the primal savageness of his body slamming into mine and the feel of my breasts captured in his hands that left me grunting each time his cock filled and stretched my swollen cunt.

His hands released my breasts, but not me. One hand shifted to the small of my back, pushing me down against the table until I thought he would break my back; the other tangled in my hair and pulled my head up to watch him in the mirror. 

"Fuck, you are so sweet, such a tight little cunt." 

The physical force of the thrusts was so intense that I knew I'd have huge bruises on the tops of my legs and stomach tomorrow and my breasts felt hot and heavy. They too would be bruised tomorrow, marked with his fingers where he'd squeezed them so roughly. Whatever we'd shared before was gone. This was an assault that battered at my very being, but it no longer mattered as my eyes locked with his as he took my body without any consideration. It no longer mattered because it was what I wanted; it was stirring something in me that I had never experienced before. The strange knowledge that I was an object for this man was bringing me close to an orgasm that I no longer wanted to hold back. 

As though he knew and did not want to give me this pleasure, the General slammed into me one last time, ramming me against the table so hard that I did cry out in pain. I felt the quivering hardness of his cock and the warmth of his come filling me. I was aching with the need to come, but his body was pressing against mine and I closed my eyes to avoid the triumph in his. His hand still pinned me to the table, but he let my hair go and my head dropped. I stayed quiet and still apart from the harshness of my breathing, too confused by my body's betrayal to his domination to want to draw his attention to me again. 

But The General had not finished with me. He withdrew and I heard his voice, stark and compelling.

"Lick me clean."

I did not even consider refusing. Even if I had wanted to I knew he would not allow me that petty defiance. I dragged myself up from the table and turned to begin. His hands found my shoulders and pushed me down to my knees on the hard, dirty floor in front of him. Above my head his black cock swung, still half erect, and I found myself moving to take the base in my hands, my mouth opening to engulf the head. 

"I said lick me, nothing else."

Once again, my body betrayed me at the sound of his voice, at his demand. My nipples contracted and hardened and my cunt tightened, his come leaking down my thighs. My tongue began to lick the last of his come from the tip. The taste of it, mixed with my own fluids, along with the smell of sex, made me moan. His hands cupped my head, but gently, letting me continue to lick the juices from his softening cock and then his balls. 

"Do you want to suck me, to make me hard again?"

The voice was gentler than the earlier hard commands, but still demanded a response. The tip of my tongue pushed his balls apart as I licked upwards, stopping long enough to whisper yes quietly, before returning to swirl each heavy orb with my tongue, cleaning the last of our juices away. He chuckled, not at all pleasantly and tightened his hands to draw me upwards to stand in front of him. I stood passively, eyes down, watching him tuck his now soft cock away and do up his uniform and belt. I wanted to squeeze my legs together to ease the unfulfilled ache. Even worse I wanted to ask him to please let me make him hard again, to fuck me and make me come. 

I yelped, partly in surprise, partly in fear, as his hands closed on my waist and he swung me up to sit me on the table. One muscled leg pushed my knees apart and my eyes flew to his face. Without thinking my hands closed on his arms and I gasped as his hand brushed over my stomach, up to cup one breast. Not harshly, as he had before but softly, his fingers running over the nipple like a butterfly kiss. 

"Aaaaarh, yes." 

Part cry, part groan as I leaned into him, my forehead against his chest. His hand moved downwards, cupping the curled red hair covering my mound and one finger traced around my clitoris. My hands made small fists in the cloth of his uniform as I clung to him and my legs opened even further. The finger left off tracing the hard nub and pushed downwards into my cunt, deeper and deeper until it could go no further. Another joined it, lazily working amid the mix of his come and my wetness. I was pressing my clitoris against his hand as hard as I was pressing my forehead against his chest. 

"Please, I want to come, please make me come."

"Make you come? Oh, Sweeting. You know better."

There was a note of amusement in his voice and the fingers were still. I no longer cared if anyone was watching or how much of my being he had stripped from me. He had also shown me something about myself. The entire centre of my being had been drawn to the clitoris pressed against his hand and his fingers working against the walls of my cunt. No other man had managed to take my body and now my soul was being taken from me too. 

"Let me come, please, let me come."

The fingers moved again, his hand was warm against my clitoris. My breathing was getting shorter and harder until that moment when his fingers withdrew and slipped up, one on other side of the clitoris to pinch it and stretch it. I exploded. The come covered his hand as the world became nothing more than one great orgasm that left me struggling to breathe. He let me recover until the panting was no longer hard and ragged then brought his fingers up to my mouth and I sucked them willingly, like a greedy child until he drew them out to rest his hand against my cheek. There was just one thing left. 

"Say my name."

I shuddered, my nipples contracting again with want, because this time I couldn't avoid saying it. The first was hard to say -- it stuck in my throat -- but once said it was right.

"M-m-master. My master."



The General Ch. 02



1800 hours. The young soldier dutifully returned just as Melanie thanked the room for their patience. As the General stood, his team rose to attention. 

"We enjoyed your presence today, Ms. Orgape. Thank you," said the General.

"You're quite welcome, sir! And I apologize for the uncomfortable conditions in here today," replied Melanie, blushing slightly.

Tall and towering, the General turned to address his men. "Join me in introducing our guest to FTI-5."

Startled, uncomfortable expressions crossed the eyes of the soldiers. Some were puzzled; some were pleased; not all were familiar with the acronym. But all knew better than to disapprove. A boisterous "yes sir" sang in unison.

"Oh, no thank you, General," she said. "I really must be going."

"Nonsense," he replied, stepping well into her personal space with a grizzled stare. "Follow me."

The General turned for the door as the soldiers stood silently awaiting her to follow. Obliged, she did. They walked down the empty hallways -- each turn and bend weaving down what seemed like the same generic hallway. It was a maze of bland! The General was in front; Melanie a half-step behind; and the soldiers marched neatly in two lines behind them, undoubtedly enjoying the view. The only sound to be heard was the clicking of Melanie's heels and the rhythmic stomp of soldiers stepping in time.

Arriving at a small service elevator, the General inserted a key and pushed the button. The doors opened instantly, exposing a rather small rickety car. 

Somewhat claustrophobic, Melanie spoke up nervously. "I don't think we'll all fit, sir." The General simply stepped inside to the controls and bellowed to his men. "Circular formation, gentlemen. Fall in."

"Ms. Orgape," he rebutted, "please step to the center." Obediently, she did as the rank and file filled in around her. Like human walls, the soldiers collapsed in, virtually squeezing the air from her lungs in the tight, little car. First two men to her left; then two behind her. Three more crunched in to the right as Melanie quickly became uncomfortably close to the team. Nervously squirming to escape, panic stole the air from her chest like an invisible weight. She learned forward to draw a calming deep breath but the remaining two soldiers closed the space in front of her like a prison cell door, crushing her backwards into the car. The General smiled inwardly at her torment. 

Slight panic and discomfort painted Melanie's face. Drowning in a sea of green, all space was consumed. Her tits pressed firmly against the soldiers in front. Each breath crushed them harder into their backs. Hands and wrists sat awkwardly against the full circumference of her hips. And in utter embarrassment, Melanie's round ass nestled heavily into the groin of the soldier behind her. She was pinned as the doors fatefully closed before her.

Melanie's heart sank. Awkward coughs and clearing of throats again rang from the team as they worked to adapt to these new close conditions. The soldiers jostled for position. Some closer; some leaning away. The group moved like an amoeba, all centered against the curves of Melanie's body. The only bubble of open space surrounded the General. Respect and fear kept the men at a safe distance. Pleased, he intently watched Melanie's expressions, drinking in her panic and humiliation. 

With the turn of a key, the General lurched the elevator downward. An awkwardly slow and turbulent ride, Melanie's body bounced and bumped against her restrained position. Utterly humiliated and struggling to breathe, Melanie closed her eyes and raised her face toward the ceiling. 

Captive, Melanie anguished in the disgrace of her predicament but couldn't deny the physiological response stirring within her. Her nipples ground hard into her rough wool coat, the sensation multiplied by the weight of the soldiers in front. Each swish was abrupt and exaggerated. A blend of regret and pleasure furrowed her brow as she sensed them hardening beneath her coat. Her arousal was imminent, further instigated by the arrhythmic bouncing of her ass against the unknown lap behind her. Unintentional but familiar, the sensations engulfed her senses. 

An aroused sigh escaped her lips, startling her back to reality and into instant embarrassment. The General couldn't contain his demonic grin. It was the sight he longed to see -- the now-familiar struggle of Melanie's shame against her raw sexuality. Oh how he ached to explore her limits and validate just which instinct would endure -- the learned or the lustful. His stare was unyielding, yet she was too consumed by her situation to notice. Like a skilled predator, he lay in wait, watching his prey mindlessly escalate further into his deadly game. 

Completely absorbed in fear and physical torment, Melanie frantically eyed the group in hopes that her instinctual sigh went unnoticed. But her answer became all too obvious as the soldier behind her squirmed to accommodate a growing erection. "Oh my God," she thought, as her eyes widened in surprise. The General studied her response as a red hue colored her cheeks and a sleazy smile grew on the face of the invading soldier. The close confines were just another exercise; the next escalation in the torment and titillation of his exquisite new subject. 

It was almost operatic to watch. Melanie tried to escape her position, but only ground her ass more aggressively into the soldier's stiffening manhood -- her efforts inadvertently nestling him neatly within the crack of her ass. Pinned in position and unable to adjust, the swelling cock grew longer and uncomfortably downward along the inner curves of her bottom until it curled intently upward against her skirt. Melanie was mortified! This stranger -- this coworker and subordinate -- was just a short thrust from her most intimate openings. She again frantically surveyed the room in hopes of anonymity. But it was he who was anonymous! 

She hadn't seen the soldier. She couldn't turn to identify him, but the impressive length of the erection brought a school-girl smirk to her face. "God, he must be as embarrassed as I am," she justified in silence ... but she was wrong. Lowering his face into her hair, the soldier sniffed in her scent like a sex-starved animal. Breathing her in and out again with a satisfied sigh, the soldier ground his hips forward, pressing his cock and her skirt further between her clinched thighs. Tapping at her asshole and toward her moist pussy, Melanie was terrified at her assault. "AHEM," she coughed loudly, trying to express her dissatisfaction. His breath was heavy and warm across the back of her neck.

The General recognized the aroused look on the ornery soldier's face, and the blend of anger and horror that blazed Melanie's eyes, but he did not intervene. He simply watched as Melanie again worked to assert control in an environment so far beyond it.

At Melanie's protest, the man retreated his thrust. But her victory was fleeting as he gripped her wide hips with his hands and thrust again. Harder and deeper this time; he'd gained leverage on her curvy frame. Arching her ass upward and lurching her tits hard into the men in front, the sadistic soldier invaded her soul and left no doubt of his intentions. Utter shock and terror screamed across her face as a faint grunt escaped her lips. A third hand turned over to grip her right thigh. A fourth appeared on her left. She'd have turned to slap them if she could, resorting instead to digging her nails into the sausage-like fingers clinching her hip bones. Grunting in pain, he yanked his hands away just as the car clumsily reached it resting place -- FTI-5. She couldn't wait to get off that elevator!

The doors opened and Melanie abruptly stepped out behind the first two soldiers. Turning to face her assailant, they all filed outward. She couldn't tell who it was!? Scanning every face and feature, she was dumbfounded. Cleverly, she nonchalantly scanned the laps of each soldier as they passed, desperately seeking her erect assailant. But to her erotic surprise, she found numerous states of erectness profiled prominently beneath the fitted uniforms. She almost chuckled aloud in giddy arousal. She'd never allowed herself to look at men in such as way; least of all in comparison. But her drifting imagination startled back to reality as the men snapped to attention. She'd been oblivious to her new surroundings but quickly took in the dank atmosphere of FTI-5.

It was a dark, warehouse-like space lit only by a single bare bulb near the elevator. The area felt cold and spacious. The floor was bare cement. The walls -- if there were walls -- looked unfinished or partial at best. It was hard to tell; nothing could be seen in the blackness but the outline of nearby beams. The soldiers stood at attention like a runway to either side, limiting her vision to a straight shot into nothingness.

"What is this space, General?" Melanie asked politely. 

"This is FTI-5, Ms. Orgape -- a top-secret space accessible to a select few. I felt someone with your impressive qualifications," he said surveying her body, "deserved an introduction."

"Have a look," he said and gestured her out into the darkness. Squinting and chuckling, she slowly stepped forward. "I'm afraid I can't see much, sir."

"Berkeley," the General barked, "the lights." "Jones. Cahill," he barked again, "assist her at pillar one." The three soldiers stepped intently to their tasks, two afoot to Melanie as she peered at the rough shapes in the darkness.

"Shroom" came the lights in a blinding rush. Melanie was blinded by the brightness -- and defenseless as orchestrated. The two men pounced. Catching her completely unaware, they gripped her hard above the elbows and spun her aggressively into the nearby pillar. 

"What the ... Ugh!" echoed in the emptiness as the soldiers pinned her painfully to the cement. Stunned by the blow, the soldiers quickly went to work, shackling her elbows tightly in large metal handcuffs. Her eyes wild and insane; her nostrils flared in madness; she screamed and fought -- staring frantically at the General. Like a caged animal, her objections roared aloud until her mouth and nose were sealed by a large, sweaty palm. Cahill, a 6'4" black specimen, stepped firmly into her, pinning her in place. His thigh pressed painfully into her crotch; her breasts pillowed around his hard elbow; but shame was an afterthought as she struggled for air beneath his thick, meaty mitt. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to retain consciousness, staring pleadingly at the General. But Cahill's oppressive weight against the unforgiving cement made a formidable seal. 

Struggling to raise her hands in defense, Melanie could not pull them forward. The jingle of chain links reaffirmed her fear; she was helpless. But Melanie's would not be broken! A shift lift of the knee caught Cahill squarely in the manhood. A distinct "Ugh" rang out; she'd hurt him! Resilient, she struggled more but was reminded of her place when the angered man slammed her head hard against the pole.

"Captain!" the General blurted loudly! "That'll be enough. At ease." Staring angrily into her blurry eyes, Cahill stepped away.

Panting for air, Melanie quickly surveyed the landscape of FTI-5. There were no exits; no windows. Odd benches and contraptions littered the perimeter of the open floor plan. Eyelets and links were appended to every pole. One cubby was framed entirely in mirrors, while another had lights and camera equipment. "Where the Hell am I!?" she thought. 

Irate and confused, Melanie raged at the General. "I demand you let me go! What's the meaning of this? What is this place!?"

"FTI-5, Mrs. Orgape -- Female Torture and Interrogation at the very top level! Many women never leave here. Or at least they never leave here the same," he smirked. "You'll be amazed at what the body can endure. I suppose we'll see," he replied nonchalantly.

Utter panic washed across her face as she fought angrily against her confines -- rocking her soft tits back and forth beneath her coat. "You won't get away with this," she spat. 

"Such fierce intensity, Ms. Melanie," said the General. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you!"

"And you'd better pray that I get away with this. It's your only chance of leaving ... assuming you survive, of course," he sneered confidently.

"Survive what?" she said coyly, putting new thought into the purpose of each contraption around the room. 

"Oh I may not even need those," he replied, spying her glances. "I have them," tilting his head toward the team. She'd never seen so many sinister smiling faces. Absorbing her fate, she studied each soldier's expression. 

"Jones!" shouted the General. "Restrain the subject."

Confused, Melanie angrily stared at the General as chains suddenly yanked her elbows far behind her, pinning them painfully along the sides of the pillar. Another jerk and they held securely in place. Splayed against the pole, the downward pull thrust her chest up and outward. Her 36C tits pressed violently against her stretched wool coat, the buttons straining to retain her bosom.

The men nearly salivated, watching her voluptuous curves spill like bags of water over the seams of the coat. Her chest raised and heaved, the same tempting sight they'd endured all day. 

Taunting her, the General approached casually, hands folded behind his back. Surveying her body, he raised his hands like claws and raked her swelling breast meat with his fingernails. Painfully slow, he reached the collar of her coat and ripped outward! Buttons ticked across the floor as her breasts bounced from their confines and fell to their full pendulous position. 

Spying her stiff nipples pressed firm against the stretched silk blouse, the General taunted her more. "What's the matter, Melanie? Are you cold ... or just a kinky whore!?"

Defiantly, she spat in his face; instantly enraging him. Stunned, he raised his hand to retaliate as Melanie involuntarily flinched, reaffirming the General of his control over her. Pleased, he resisted the urge to strike, but instead grabbed the silk blouse and ripped it open with two angry yanks. 

"Ugh," she groaned as the material yanked hard against her back. Melanie's tits fell perfectly -- full and loose -- finally freed from her clothing. Her skin was perfectly fair and pale; her teardrop breasts were bulbous and round with thick, brown nipples pointing upward as if begging for attention. Melanie was mortified at her nakedness, averting exaggerated reactions from the spectating soldiers. Pleased with her shame, the General exacted his revenge. 

"Smack" rang out as the General's swift backhand connected with Melanie's left breast. Her scream hadn't left her lips before -- "whap" -- the follow-up forehand careened the outside, rippling her breast from side to side. Melanie sobbed in pain, as the General pinched her left nipple hard, pulling it up and away from her reddened breast. "You will remember to respect me," he sneered leaning right in her face. Her fear and anguish was evident! With a grin, he kissed the nipple bent hard between his fingers. Shaking his hand from side to side, he watched her tender breast ripple at the movement. "Exquisite," he said calmly, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You put on quite a show today!" The General released her breast and cupped its weight gently in his hand. Massaging the red, throbbing flesh still warm from the strike, he continued. "I don't like being teased, Ms. Orgape. I take what I want. And seeing you overly satiated beyond self-control is exactly what I want. Then we'll see what's inside you ... literally," he chuckled. 

Furious but excited, her left breast burned in the cool air. Her nipple stood angrily erect from the rough play. And in spite of herself, the early pangs of arousal clinched at her womanhood, hardening her right nipple to match. Melanie loved rough play with her breasts -- but never this rough before. Without trying, the General uncovered her first sexual secret. And he watched with boyish delight as fear faded into a slight slutty stare, only to shrink away behind the shame of her nudity.

Melanie glanced sheepishly at the men, trying to avoid eye contact while still searching their faces for intent. To some, their arousal looked painful; to others, it appeared infuriating. Whether sneering or snarling, all eyes feasted on the voluptuous display of Melanie's soft pillowy breasts. She couldn't yet fathom her fate. But as fear set in, she struggled to escape her chains -- prompting whistles and catcalls as her breasts rocked to and fro.

The General knew his men. Combat tested and trained, he knew their traits. Some violent; some wicked; each man was trained to pleasure in the pain of others. Still others were better described simply as obedient. Sorting the night's activities would be like a card game for the General. Which sensation first? Which persona next? Who would impale her? Who would just please her? And what combination would brim embarrassment and eroticism from his beautiful new captive? 

"Stargill," he barked. "Finish preparing our guest." The General's next pawn was played. Her legs still free, Melanie still posed a threat. She wouldn't go down -- literally or figuratively -- without a fight! 

A large, lean soldier stepped from line and aggressively marched toward her. Nearly lunging into her, he twisted her nipples in both hands and yanked them upward! "Ah-AHah" she screamed as he stared furiously into her face, drinking in her pain. Tears welled into her eyes as he abruptly yanked his hands away and backhanded her hard across the face. Melanie's head rocked, exploding in pain! She never saw the big right hand that plowed hard into belly; knocking the wind from her body. Melanie was rocked limp from the powerful blows, slumping heavy against her shackles. Stargill effectively made his opportunity. He unzipped the right side of her fitted wool skirt and yanked it angrily toward her knees. She put up no resistance as he yanked her feet from under her, flinging the skirt and her heels from her voluptuous body. Resiliently, she kicked loose but was rewarded with a hand around the throat that raised her upright again. Literally on her tip-toes, the soldier hung her in the air against his crushing grip. 

"You want to fight, bitch!?" he said in a gritty, enraged tone. He produced a large knife and waved it slowly before her face. Melanie froze in fear of his next move. She was helpless to stop him, strewn tense between her shackled elbows and updrawn neck. Stargill drug the cool blade slowly across her collarbone and up to her shoulder. Methodically, he cut away the ripped materials of her coat and torn blouse. Long slices etched the blade closer to her skin as the material fell away. Pressing his body against her nude torso, he tugged the last slices of sleeve through her shackles and squeezed them painfully tighter. 

Bare armed. Bare shouldered. Bare breasted. Stargill carved away her clothing until her upper body was entirely nude. The complete absence of material left her feeling more vulnerable than ever before! And the General drank in her defeat as she slowly closed her eyes, raising her head silently to the heavens, overwhelmed by her new sense of nudity. 

Stargill's face hung near her left breast; he could resist no longer. Dragging his nose clumsily about her breast, he relished her smooth skin and the sweet scent of her flesh until his lips crossed her nipple. Taking a mouthful of soft breast meat, Stargill sucked angrily, swirling his tongue around her areola until her thick nipple stiffened instinctively in his mouth. Melanie could only watch as the soldier suckled her breast like a hungry baby, inspiring tingles of arousal to spread through her body. Tilting her head back in pleasure, she sensed him drifting outward, pulling her teat alone with his teeth. "No," screamed Melanie as Stargill raised his knife to her extended nipple! 




The General Ch. 02



"At ease, Lieutenant" said the General, ending the confrontation. 

Melanie was relieved but sufficiently terrified! Stargill released his grip, bringing her back to her heels. Melanie panted heavily trying to regain her breath, still stinging from the blows ... and tingling from the cooling wetness on her nipple. 

Uncovered and unprotected, she felt positively shameful. Yet there was no covering herself! Her fingertips could barely reach the sides of her heavy breasts as they shimmied to and fro with each attempt. Oh, how the General enjoyed the internal struggle before him! So eager to cover herself; but so aroused by the slightest contact. Melanie stood before the team in nothing more than thigh-high stockings and lace panties. 

Small, thin and nearly see-through, her panties did little to hide the features of her pale ivory skin. A thumbnail-sized patch of dark pubic hair could be seen atop her folded pussy lips. The seam of her panties nestled neatly alongside her outer labia. All eyes stared at her crotch. Each and every soldier wanted her; and were determined to have her. 

Crossing her legs in a Christ-like pose, Melanie tried sheepishly to conceal herself. She didn't want to entice the crowd; she didn't want her trimmed bush to imply ease or promiscuity. She just wanted to go home -- to regain the secrecy of her intimate talents. Her mind struggled to escape the situation; to find solace in spite of her position. Fear and embarrassment riddled her expressions as she closed her eyes and squirmed in her confines. The General stood in awe of her beauty, watching her slither around in hopes of somehow disappearing from sight. Opening her eyes, she stared helplessly at the General, her piercing green eyes moist with developing tears. The General's heart sank a little! She was exquisite and feminine and very hard to resist. Yet she transformed again right before his eyes. Her eyes hardened; she stood taller as if impervious to her nudity. "I demand you release me, General! This has gone far enough." Her resilience strikes again, reminding the General of his goal. 

Up for the challenge, the General stepped forward in silence, meeting her determined stare. In a single swift motion, he swept her legs from beneath her. Her weight dropped heavily against her shackles with an oomph. Crushing her small ankles in one hand, the General pinned them painfully to the beam above her head -- leaving her magnificent ass free for exploration. 

Melanie was mortified! Folded completely in half, she struggled to breathe as her thighs crushed uncomfortably against her tits. Her stocking-clad knees brushed softly against her face. And as the General willed, her lower extremities jutted perpendicularly from the wide concrete beam. The heart-shaped curves of her bottom were on prime display. Melanie's tan lace panties wedged tightly between her cheeks, her bulbous buttocks spilling out past tiny lacy frills. Visible from the small of her back, the lace materials disappeared into the confines of her ample white buttocks, only to reappear again as a sliver of stained cloth quaintly covering her quivering pussy. 

Melanie's eyes raced between her prone ass and the lustful stare overwhelming the General's expression. The view was exquisite! Melanie's strained position stretched the lace deeper into her crevices, spilling the slightest edges of her delicate pussy lips past the tight material. Entranced, the General explored her body with his free right hand, laying his palm gently against the inner curve of her left ass cheek -- right where her tenderest flesh curved away from her vaginal opening. Ever so gently, the General gripped at the flesh, drawing more of her pussy lips from beneath her strained panties. Playfully stretching at her opening, her pussy engulfed more of the thin material. Melanie's struggled breath grew slower as the tender warmth of his touch tingled through her body. The General fascinated over the softness of her skin -- spurring an aching clinch in his groin. My God, how the General desired her and how he'd longed to know her so intimately. Melanie could see desire welling in his eyes and flinched away from his touch in learned shame. 

Insulted, the General stared angrily into Melanie's shame-filled eyes. "Fine then," he sneered past clinched teeth. Nose to nose and never breaking his stare, he reached beneath her bottom and clinched the panties at the small of her back. A swift yank brought them down past her buttocks and trailing up her long thighs until they sprang free from the folds of her moist pussy.

How dare she defy him! How dare he lose focus to desire!? Angry, the General snapped back to his initiative. 

The cool air on her wet pussy brought goosebumps to her skin. Cheers and whistles rang from the soldiers as the General flipped the panties up off her ankles and dropped her legs hard to the floor. Again, Melanie squirmed to conceal her womanhood in her Christ-like pose. Her tits were discolored red from the pressure of the thighs and arousal defiantly blushed her chest. She was a magnificent sight to see! Balling her panties in his hand, the General felt the moisture collected in the delicate seamline. Fascinated at the implications, he raised them to his nose and stared knowingly into her eyes as he breathed her womanly stench heavy into his nostrils. It was her scent -- the same one from the conference room. And an urgent desire to erupt in orgasm darted through the General's body as Melanie sheepishly avoided his stare. Such a primal instinct, the relation of scent and sensuality. Clearing his throat, the General choked down his desire and neatly folded the panties, tucking them into his coat pocket for later. 

Recalling the room, the pheromones of Melanie's natural musk were almost too much to handle. Such unbridled womanhood nearly incited a frenzy before! So the manipulative General devised his next move.

"Berkeley," the General barked. "Our guest appears cold. Set the temperature to 88 degrees." 

"Cahill," he barked again. "The box please," pointing to a long metal case. Obediently, Cahill opened the case, producing a narrow black bike seat and metal pipes. Confused and frightened, Melanie watched the men spring to work.

Cahill was such a sadistic soldier. He was the General's favorite choice for such uncomfortable matters. Glancing back to him, the General continued. "Engage, Captain."

In terror, Melanie watched as the large, familiar man walked intently to her. She flinched as his large hand again clasped her throat and thrust her high into the air. Painfully, her arms strained against her shackles while her toes barely touched the ground. Struggling for air and unable to look down, she could only await her fate. The bike seat was wedged hard against her pussy, pushing against her stretched position. The clang of metal poles rang throughout the room as he propped the seat up in position.

Releasing her throat, she sank heavy onto the seat. Cahill knelt to her feet to finish his task. She desperately wanted to kick him but was pinned tip-toed by the thin leather seat grinding her pelvic bone. Crawling away, he trailed cables to a small car battery and stood at attention. 

"Ugh, what is the meaning of this?" Melanie demanded as she tried to shimmy herself off the seat with no avail.

"Just making you more comfortable, Ms. Orgape," the General replied. "I need to feed my men. We have a physical challenge ahead. And I thought you might like to prepare yourself."

Confused, Melanie stared at the General as he nodded to Cahill. "BzzZZZZzzzzzz" rang from the seat as it aggressively rattled and clanked between Melanie's legs. The General smiled as her eyes nearly leapt from her head! 

"Gentlemen," the General said. "Let's leave our guest while we eat. It's about to get very loud in here." The team laughed as the soldiers filed toward the elevator.

The General lingered, taking in Melanie's bare body with an accomplished smirk. Her breasts and stomach bounced and jerked as the intense vibration shimmering upward through her womanhood. Yet she stared intently back at him with pure resentment! She'd scratch his eyes out if she could. But her anger was quickly losing out to the pleasure being forced upon her. A smile grew wide across the General's face as Melanie's piercing eyed winced with the first pangs of pleasure. Satisfied with himself, he stepped away toward the elevator.

Seizing the moment, Cahill sprung toward Melanie to complete the last agonizing step. Stabbing two hands between her pussy and the seat, Cahill plunged his thick fingers into the intimate folds of her wetness and stretched her pussy open around the cold vibrating leather. "Ungh" was her only response as the curved seat made direct contact with every sensitive pleasure center. Her delicate inner lips. The open mouth of her vagina. Her hardening clit. The stiff seat shook them all in maddening pleasure. Her anus. Her urethra. No sacred place was left untouched. 

"Captain," the General called again. "Let's go!" Cahill backed away with a smile, staring evilly at Melanie as he licked her moisture from his fingers. She'd have been terrified, if not for the intense distraction of the seat vibrating against her clitoris. 

Melanie's thighs clinched as she gasped a little, prompting the General to take on last look before disappearing into the elevator. She was exquisite to watch! So supple. So sexual. And he wasn't about to miss this! 

The game was just beginning. 

****

I hope you enjoy reading this fantasy as much as I'm enjoying writing it! It's such a turn-on. Check back for more soon. Please comment, rate and share your thoughts.

~ kisses, ... Melanie 

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