Disclosure: All characters are 18+. Contains: Asian, Asian female, blowjob, raceplay, white male, WMAF
Mark stood in front of the metal bars, staring through the narrow slits at the woman lying on the stone ground inside. Jing was tiny. Unassuming. No wonder she snuck past the sparse layers of security in the city's outer rings.
The intake report on the clipboard Mark held said she slipped through the Garment District -- one of the few trade boroughs that connected the warring factions -- only to be caught scaling the walls of the prison that sat just inside White Territory.
If Jing had just ran for a few minutes longer after scaling the prison wall back down, she might've made it out safely. The Whites purposefully built the rehabilitation center close enough to the border so Asian men who patrolled the shadowy treeline could hear the cries of their women being corrected.
The corner of Mark's mouth lifted in a slight smile as he thought about the women trapped in this center. The memories of him training them into submission tickled his mind. He read over Jing's history as he unlocked the door to step inside the room. A standard display of sex toys from ball gags to anal plugs to cat paws stood to his left.
"Wake up, whore," Mark said as he stepped closer to Jing. He smacked the clipboard against the wall. She stirred at the sound, blinking a couple times before taking a sharp breath as she realized where she was.
The thin white gown the guards put on her fell off one of her shoulders as she tried to crawl away from Mark. The dark room was draped in shadows, and she could barely make out his features. The cool air almost stung her lungs, but she ignored it out of fear.
"No," Jing said defiantly as he took more steps to close the distance between them. She shuffled a few more feet away before her back hit the stone wall with a thud. The 18-year-old girl was just a few months into the Academy, and far from being cleared to take on field missions.
As she gazed at the imposing figure who stood near her, she thought of her older sister, who was dragged away last year by White forces as their city was invaded. Jing knew her sister was in this building somewhere, and she'd signed up for the reserves to gain access to the maps and resources that could help her rescue her.
Jing snuck out on her own. Now she was trapped without a proper mission logged and no one knew where she was.
Mark crouched down, his army slacks creasing as his thighs strained against the camouflage-colored fabrics. He set the clipboard onto the stone ground as he got closer, freeing his hands up. Jing yelped as his right hand shot out and gripped her jaw, forcing her to look up at him.
The girl's face was flushed with sweat beading on her forehead. Her black hair fell straight down her back as she titled her head up to meet his gaze. It stopped right above her waist. The white gown -- which was barely a slip -- was thin and contrasted her hair.
Mark's hands were calloused from hard service, but not as weathered as his dad's or grandfather's or even older brother's. Dark hairs curled on the back of his arms, which were spotted with sweat and dirt. He squeezed her cheeks, forcing her mouth open in a helpless o-shape.
This was his favorite part. Not the high-pitched screams as he forced his way into a woman for the first time. Not even the strangled anal orgasms they had while riding on double dildo see-saws. It was the beginning of each conditioning that got him off -- the initial fear in a chink girl's slit-eyes as she realized the stories she heard growing up during the race war were about to be proven true.
