Captive Audience
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The sweat rolled off his bruised and bloody head into his stinging eyes. “Damn theses fucking Americans,’ he swore to himself, ‘for letting their women fight in combat. This is nothing short of inhumane. When I get out of here...If I get out of here...”
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The creaking attic door opened, mercifully interrupting his train of thought. They were back, the soulless whores. This was no way to fight a war. Allah would punish all of them for their dishonor. Their tactics were too sneaky for His taste, too...female, vile. He wanted to spit in their faces to show his contempt for then, but he was too dehydrated for that.
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Sgt. Leslie Edison was a brute of a woman. Standing nearly six feet tall, her body was rock hard from constant training. Her physical strength was legendary in her division, and she was known to be ruthless in battle. To her, interrogation was just another form of combat. By definition, that made her Arab captive the enemy. Fine with her, she didn’t like men all that much anyway. She smiled unpleasantly as she and her aide ascended the stairs.
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The desert heat was over 130* in the attic. The fact that the women wore only panties only made it hotter for the prisoner. The sergeant was gambling that the constant reminder that these were women that were emasculating him would bring about a quicker result.
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Instead of addressing her prisoner right away, Leslie turned to her Corporal. “Andrea,” she said in question. “When was the last time we gave this pig water?” Her eyes lingered on the other woman’s large, supple tits. The mention of water brought only the briefest flash to his dark eyes.
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“I believe it was yesterday morning, Sergeant,” Andrea Patterson stood at parade rest in front of her nude prisoner. Her sexy body teased at his prick, but he was too dehydrated to stiffen properly. This only added to his torture. She could see him, however, trying to pump blood into his cock with his pelvic muscles. She gave him a mocking smile.
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Though he spoke enough English to communicate, he chose to rant in Arabic. This was a poor choice. Leslie wasted no time in seizing his balls in a crushing vice grip until his tongue fell silent. One small tear formed in his eye after five minutes of the ceaseless ball crushing. Again with her unpleasant smile, she relented. A massive sigh of relief rendered his whole body slack in the chains, one long strand looped around a ceiling beam securing both wrists. His ankles were locked into a wicked contraption, obviously of local origin, seemed specifically made for such a purposes. The loopholes, however, were small, as if designed to restrain a more dainty foot. His bruised ankles were beginning to cut on this third day of captivity. Leslie looked deep in his eyes as she held her hand out for the riding crop.
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“I’ll ask you again. How many men are stationed at Bahawarl?” She inquired patiently. The proud Arab man refused to answer. Leslie changed tactics and held her hand out for the water jug. “Would you like some water?” She asked sweetly. Again silence. “Of course you would.... Here.” She held the jug to his parched lips and poured. He meant to let it all fall away, but baser forces took over. He gulped at the life giving water almost until the point of drowning. Sgt. Edison allowed him all the water he wanted without further questions. When he was satisfied, however, it was time to get down to business.
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“Andrea,” the powerful woman cooed, “Take off those panties, won’t you?” She purposely adopted an aristocratic tone. Corporal Patterson was grateful to be nude in the stifling heat. Leslie sauntered over and kissed her sultry subordinate, much to the prisoner’s dismay. His rejuvenated cock sprang to life. “Bend over,” she whispered to the naked woman loudly.
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Knowing the Arab fondness for anal sex only too well, Leslie made soft mewing sounds along with the loving caress of Andrea’s tight ass. She spread the supple cheeks wide to reveal the coveted brown bud. The prisoner closed his eyes to the tantalizing treasure his religion forbids. The crop bit at his unprotected balls to open them again. Again, he went slack in the chains. Another strike cut across one nipple and a third on the belly. The Arab howled more in outrage than in pain. His eyes now open and his full attention, Leslie returned to Andrea’s shapely ass.
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“Lovely isn’t it?” She questioned as if nothing had happened. “Don’t you just want to bite it, to lick the sweat off her brown hole? Would you like to fuck it, to make it stretch around your stiff cock? Huh, rag head? Do you want to slam yourself in her white ass?” His wanton look was almost pitiful. “Then tall me the defense plans in and around Bahawarl. You can touch it just like I am. All you have to do is tell me what I must know. You can kiss it like this.” She planted a big, wet one on the right cheek. “You can tongue the sweet hole, just like I’m doing.” She had to stifle a passionate cry as her tongue slipped in Andrea’s ass. Andrea sang out a moan. Leslie slurped and sucked until Andrea, and the prisoner for that matter, was breathing hard in the heat. With mighty strides in self-control, she regained the forefront, but not before she too was nude.
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“I know all about you rag head punks,” She spit in his face. Having shown a lack of restrain, she was angry and embarrassed. The crop slashed at the Arab’s balls once more. “You’re all just closet faggots, aren’t you?” The Islamic religion forbids homosexuality in the strongest of terms, so of course it’s a wide spread epidemic. Leslie circled her prey a few times, taunting his manhood all the while. With very little warning, the crop was driven into his unsuspecting asshole. He admitted a painful yelp with an almost passionate ring to it.
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“Corporal Patterson,” she snapped with a hard, military edge. “Suck his worthless, camel fucking cock.” She barked the order because she knew for a fact that she had lost all control of the situation. She busily fingered herself behind his back. Andrea wasted no time gulping the sweaty rod down. She fingered herself as well.
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The frustrated soldier saw everything slipping away from her control, and hated it. She slapped the Arab man’s ass as she thrust the handle of the riding crop into his anus with all her power. Andrea’s mouth picked up the pace automatically when she first suspected he would cum. You’ve got to get a grip on this, she chided herself, or all will be lost.
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With a barbaric war cry, she ripped the surrogate prick from the prisoner’s asshole and kicked Andrea from her task. Luckily for her, he hadn’t cum yet. As they tumbled together to the floor, Leslie thrilled at the weight of her subordinate’s body on hers. She couldn’t resist kissing the nipple that fell into her mouth. Apparently the little brunette was just as hot for her brawny, blonde superior. They writhed about on top of one another for a second before their mouths found one another. Their tongues did battle in their mouths. Feisty digits fingered each other’s sloppy slits. They mauled each other like animals.
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The Arab’s cock strained at it’s own skin. He tried hard not to beg his captors to let him joined, but he crumbled. He pleaded both in Arabic and English. With unfailing accuracy, he recited the position and strength of every piece of military equipment and personnel within twenty miles of the town in question. Tears even came to his eyes at his betrayal, but the pussy offered to him was even more overpowering than his strict sense of duty. Nothing mattered now, except getting the brunette’s tight asshole stretched around his bursting cock.
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“You heard enough boss?” Andrea asked, breaking the action abruptly.
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“Yup, did you have the recorder on, corporal?” She replied in stiff, efficient tones. She was totally shocked by this sudden good fortune, but was too professional to show it.
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“Yes Ma’am,” Andrea snapped off quickly from under her sergeant.
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“Good. When we’re done have him disposed of,” she smiled warmly and went back to fucking her girlfriend at the prisoner’s feet. He grit his teeth hard at being tricked by the soulless infidel whores. His balls took on a lovely shade of blue.
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