Marine Raided An Aphoria Story

Chapter 1: One Arabian Night

"I am Captain Cheryl Dankiewicz of the US Marine Raider Regiment."

*WHI-PSSH!*

"YUUH!"

"I... I hereby surrender to General Muhammad of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan."

*WHI-PSSH!*

"HAAH!"

"He has defeated the godless American invaders under my command and rightfully taken control of this base in the name of Allah."

*WHI-PSSH!*

"YUUH!"

"General Muhammad is disciplining my sinful body for the evils I have committed in this country."

*WHI-PSSH!*

"HAAH!"

"T-Thank you master for whipping my lustful body and giving it the punishment it deserves."

*WHI-PSSH!*

"YUUH!"

"Please lash my decadent flesh and teach me the glories of submitting to the Lord, Allah."

*WHI-PSSH!*

"HAAH!"

The captured Marine captain was a sight to behold. Her head and hands were locked into a wooden pillory and she was bent 90 degrees at the waist with her ass sticking up. She stood on her tip toes, as ordered by the man whipping her. A metal spreader bar forced her to keep her long, toned legs spread wide apart. She was stripped completely naked, causing a sheen of sweat to appear on her pale, alabaster skin under the heat of the Registan sun. Angry red welts marked her athletic body where her tormentor had struck her remorselessly. She couldn't believe how much had changed in just the last 24 hours.

----------

One day ago...

Cheryl sat in her office staring at her orders in disbelief. The decorated US Marine officer was leading a special operations team deployed discreetly in southern Afghanistan, between the Helmand and Kandahar provinces. She was working with a local warlord, 'Colonel' Ahmad, that was in theory friendly to US interests and the Afghan National Army. Her team's mission was to cooperate with and train his militia to fight Taliban forces in the area. She never liked Ahmad, but she understood that her team's mission had major effects on the wider conflict in the country. Nevertheless, her latest orders were asking too much of her.

Her superiors wanted her to attend a party with Ahmad this evening as his guest--or date, as the subtext implied. Moreover, they expected her to use it as an opportunity to get close to him and gain his trust. Apparently they wanted her to ingratiate herself with the warlord in order to gain more access to his local intelligence network and assets. The brass wanted her to cozy up to the man, do whatever he asked, and win his confidence.

Cheryl hated Ahmad. He treated the local population poorly and was merely the lesser evil among the many would-be tyrants vying for control in this part of the nation. Furthermore, she wasn't some kind of spy or covert agent. This wasn't the kind of work she signed up for. She was a Marine, and she joined the Corps to fight her country's battles, not go on playdates with de facto war criminals.

She wasn't just any Marine either. Captain Cheryl Dankiewicz was extremely accomplished for her age. She was an honor graduate of the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, as well amongst the first female Marine officers to enter the infantry occupational field upon commissioning. She served admirably in her Platoon Commander billet as a lieutenant and was selected into the Marine Raider Regiment, MARSOC, a component of US Special Operations Command. At 28, she was now a captain and a special operations team leader in charge of a 14-man team of elite Marine Raiders.

Nevertheless, the whole reason she left the conventional forces and joined the special operations community was to have a greater effect on the big picture. She knew this sometimes meant dirty work that wasn't as simple as just shooting the bad guys (something she excelled in). And so, after some further reflection, she decided to comply with her orders and began to get ready for this party. Her superiors hadn't given her much time to prepare. Probably not their fault, she realized, as the communication systems here were so spotty, and often their messages would be delayed for days. In fact, this was the first message she had received in weeks.

Just then, someone knocked on her door.

"It's Colonel Ahmad, my dear. I hear you will be joining me tonight?" came the warlord's smarmy voice from outside.

"I... Yes, please come in sir," Cheryl said begrudgingly. She hated having to address the man as 'sir', but military decorum dictated she respect his rank, even if ranks were practically made up here. "I was just thinking I probably don't have any decent evening attire. I hope you weren't expect-"

The Marine captain balked as she saw what Ahmad was holding in his hand. The warlord walked in carrying an audaciously revealing belly dancing outfit. It was in an opulent shade of purple with gold accents. The way the man was holding it up made it clear the outfit left very little to the imagination. The fabric was virtually translucent, not that there was even much fabric to begin with.

"You can't be serious sir!" Cheryl said in thinly veiled disgust.

"Apologies my dear Captain, it can't be helped," Ahmad said in mock remorse. "All the females in attendance will be in a similar state of dress. I know you are a woman of power and respect where you come from, but as you know that's not common around here. Wearing anything else would be a sign of great disrespect in my culture. Unless, do you not want to go anymore?"

"No, no, I'll come," the Marine officer said reluctantly. She would serve her country in whatever way was required of her. Orders were orders.

"Great! I'll leave this with you. Please get dressed and meet me at the gate to the base tonight at 7."

"Very well sir, 1900 hours it is," she replied, silently deriding his lack of military professionalism.

----------

A few hours later...

Captain Dankiewicz entered the lavish hotel ballroom with Colonel Ahmad. She tried to ignore the rotund Arab man's hand on her ass as she surveyed the room. She wasn't expecting any danger here tonight, but it never hurt to be careful. For the most part, the guests were fat, ugly men with slender, attractive dates, all wearing revealing belly dancing badlahs. Perhaps it was a theme party.

Among this crowd of Arabian beauties, Cheryl's ivory skin stood out. More than that, the Marine captain's natural allure was remarkable even compared with the other women. The brunette Raider had straight shoulder-length hair that framed her pretty face. She had full lips and piercing gray eyes that captivated any who looked into them.

As one might expect, her years of training at Annapolis and the Marine Corps gave her a killer body too. She was extremely fit, which was obvious due to the badlah she had to wear. The small purple top was hardly able to contain her impressive C cup bust, flashing her sideboob and underboob for all to see. The outfit made it especially easy to admire her washboard abs and cute bellybutton. She might as well not have been wearing the open leg slitted sheer, see-through harem pants, which did nothing to obscure the view of her sculpted calves and thighs. The only thing covering her modesty was a purple thong, and it was barely doing that. Thankfully she was well-groomed down there, choosing to keep her mound shaved even while deployed overseas.

Colorful gauze sashes flowed around her, also translucent, again designed clearly to accentuate her beauty, not hide it. Ahmad had also included a jewelry box with the outfit containing a number of gaudy golden bracelets and anklets, which she now wore on her wrists and ankles. An intricate golden tribal chocker necklace adorned her svelte neck. She also wore a set of shiny rings on her hands and a matching set of toe rings on her feet. Her fingernails and toenails were painted ebony, which went well with the rest of the ensemble. And while she didn't need them to, the glamorous stilettos she was forced to wear served to further increase her elegance.

The party proceeded uneventfully for a while. Cheryl served her role as arm candy to the warlord as instructed. She chatted, drank, and schmoozed with the other guests as expected, and even put up with Ahmad's insistent groping to an extent. Many of the other men stared brazenly at her exposed body and felt very jealous towards Ahmad, to his delight. One of them even tried to kiss her, which got him a swift and hard slap to the face.

Then at one point, as drinks were flowing and people were dancing, someone proposed a dance competition. Not between the men of course, just between the attractive, provocatively dressed women in attendance.

"What a wonderful idea," crowed Ahmad. "I'm sure my woman will be happy to participate."

"Sir, you go too far," whispered Captain Dankiewicz under her breath. "I am an officer of the United States Marine Corps, not some floozy-"

"But my dear, it would please me so to see you dance," the warlord interrupted. "I just know that if you impress my colleagues here, it will only help expand my influence, and that of your superiors by proxy."

"I... Fine, I'll play along, but then we're leaving," said Cheryl in frustration as she took off her heels and stepped onto the dance floor. The smooth marble floor felt cold to the touch of her bare feet.

The music switched to one suitable for belly dancing with the sounds of darbuka drums and other traditional instruments. The other women began swaying with the music, gyrating their hips and undulating their torsos. Most of them were clearly trained dancers, matching the percussion with the rapid staccato movements of their hips, spinning and turning in flowing, sinuous, continuous movements.

Cheryl did her best to keep up with everyone else. She let the music guide her as she shimmied her hips and rolled her abs. To her surprise, the movements required more than a little amount of concentration and energy. They actually took a great deal of abdominal control and core strength. It wasn't long before a glaze of sweat broke out over the fit operator's shaking body.

Despite being an obvious novice, Cheryl easily drew in the biggest crowd. Everyone wanted to watch the white woman's mesmerizing abs as she danced, occasionally throwing in a low kick or a backbend. Some even knew of her position, and were delighted to see the uptight military woman put in her place, doing what women were meant to do. They crudely commented on her dancing, which she chose to ignore.

"Your white she-devil moves well, Ahmad!"

"She's not the best dancer, but she's got a tight body at least."

"Dance for us white girl, show us your American wantonness."

Soon after she started dancing, the Raider noticed a strange feeling spreading throughout her body. She felt hot, and not just because of her exertions on the dance floor. She began sweating even more, and a noticeable blush began to show visibly on her chest. Her skin felt more sensitive than normal too. Even more concerning, she felt an unmistakable tingling sensation in her nipples and clitoris.

[Am I getting turned on? There's no way!] she thought.

And yet, before long, her arousal became undeniable. All of a sudden, she wanted to touch herself. She wanted to get on the floor right now, as these foreign men were staring at her lustfully, and touch herself in front of everyone. She shuddered at the intense image that flashed through her mind just now. What was wrong with her?

She ignored it for as long as she could, continuing to dance to the best of her ability. But people began to notice her twitch or tremble every now and then. Sometimes an audible gasp might even escape her throat. Anyone paying attention could see something was going on. And if they were really paying attention, they might have noticed the subtle trail of girl juice that slowly traveled down Captain Dankiewicz's thigh.

"Excuse me," Cheryl said hurriedly as she pushed through the crowd of onlookers and made a beeline for the women's restroom. She had to find somewhere private to resolve whatever was happening to her.

"Where are you going, my dear?" Ahmad called after her amusedly.

Fortunately, the restroom was empty. Cheryl entered the stall furthest in the back, locked the door, sat down on the toilet seat, spread her legs, and unabashedly started fingering herself right there in the stall. She didn't even take the time to undress, although her outfit did not hinder her much. She slid her soaked thong to side and played with herself. Her fingers provided some relief to the fire in her loins but not enough. She had never felt this way before.

"Huhh! Ahh!"

The loud, wet squelching noises coming from her stall were punctuated by breathy moans of need. The disciplined Marine Raider felt embarrassed, but at least no one else was in the room. Whatever was happening, she hoped she could get herself off quickly and move on.

With her body as enflamed as it was, that didn't take long. In short order, Cheryl's fingers had brought herself to the brink of a powerful orgasm. She was shocked at the volume of her nectar flowing down her thighs and all over her clothes. Was she really just that horny?

"Hhhhnnghh!!"

The Marine operative's supermodel body locked up as she reached the peak. She raised her legs into the air just as the massive climax overcame her. Her juices squirted onto the stall door loudly as she stifled her pleasure moans as much as she could. Her legs shuddered and her thighs twitched as the orgasm tore through her. The Raider's toes, accentuated by her pretty toe rings, curled tightly. The tendons on her neck stood out as she stared through star-filled eyes down at her spasming body.

*BANG!*

Suddenly the door to her stall burst open. The door's shoddy lock was no match for the weight behind Colonel Ahmad's kick. The detestable warlord now drank in the enticing sight of Captain Dankiewicz's post-orgasmic body as she heaved deep breaths of air before him.

"You've made quite the mess of the dress I gave you," he smirked.

Instantly it all made sense to Cheryl. She had decided to drink from her wine glass before dancing to summon up some liquid courage. She realized she had started feeling weird soon after drinking.

"It was you! You spiked my drink!"

"Oh please Captain, no need to come up with baseless accusations to justify your behavior," Ahmad said sarcastically. "A hot body like yours needs to cum hard on a regular basis, it's only natural. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Give me one good reason not to kill you right now," Cheryl threatened while scrambling to cover her intimate parts with her hands. "Poisoning an American officer is-"

"Hhhhnnghh!!"

The man had pulled out his phone and was playing a recording on it. Cheryl blanched as she watched an HD video of herself on Ahmad's phone from only moments ago, cumming spectacularly atop the same toilet she was still sitting on. She snapped her head up and saw the tiny video camera on the ceiling above her stall.

"You sick pervert! Delete that video or else-"

"That's enough posturing Captain," Ahmad cut in. "You can try to attack me now if you'd like, you might even be able to kill me. But with a push of a button, I can have this video sent to all your subordinates, as well as your higher chain of command. Is that what you really want? We both know how fast it'll spread from there. This video will make the Marines United controversy pale in comparison. I can see the headlines now, 'Prodigy Marine Officer Couldn't Resist Touching Herself at Diplomatic Meeting, Fingers Herself Like a Bitch in Heat in Dingy Bathroom'."

"Bastard!" Captain Dankiewicz cried out, painfully aware of the truth behind what he was saying.

"Look Captain, I'm a reasonable man," he continued. "You have my word not another soul will see this video if you play nice. Besides, only I have the antidote to the drug that's making you feel the way you do. Do what I say, and I'll give it to you."

"Fuck you!" Cheryl spat back. But even as she cursed him, she felt the heat from deep within her sex start to return. Her libido had ebbed somewhat after her orgasm, but already it was revving back up in earnest. Knowing what her body was going through, Colonel Ahmad took off his trousers and pulled out his rock-hard cock.

"It's up to you, my dear," he taunted. "You have until the count of three to crawl over here and start servicing me like the bitch you are. Otherwise, this video gets sent to the base distro list and everyone will see another side of Ms. Tough Marine."

Cheryl, still covering herself with her arms, stared at him incredulously.

"One..."

"There's no chance I'd ever touch you, you fucking pig!"

"Two..."

"Stop, you can't do this, how dare you extort a US military officer!?"

"Three. Okay, your call, I'll just-"

"Slrrpp!"

Her body moved without her even realizing it. In an instant, she had latched onto the chubby warlord's fat dick and sheathed it in the warmth wetness of her inviting throat. She couldn't let that video get out. It would utterly humiliate her and virtually end her promising career. No man would ever take her orders seriously again after seeing that. But even more than that, Cherly realized that something within her wanted to suck Ahmad's cock. She knew it was whatever drug he had spiked her drink with that was messing with her head. But she couldn't deny the inexorable hunger to touch, lick, and indeed worship the ugly man's member.

"Now that's where you belong, Captain. On your knees with Arab dick in your month," Ahmad chuckled. He grabbed a fistful of the operative's hair and made her choke down more of his length, reveling in the power he held over the strong woman.

"Hgkh!" *cough* *cough* "Mmmrrff!"

While he technically outranked her, it had always bothered him that the Americans would send a woman to liaise with him. As if she could be his equal in any way, especially in the ways of war. The fact that she was undoubtedly a better shot and frankly a more capable warrior than him physically only vexed him more. He would take out his frustrations on the white woman's body tonight. After watching her fellate him for a moment longer, he pulled her roughly off his cock.

"Enough, turn around and stand up. Take your damn clothes off. Then put your hands on the toilet seat and stick your ass in the air," the warlord commanded.

"You won't get away with this," Cheryl threatened unconvincingly as she stumbled to her feet and did as she was ordered. She knew what he was going to do and part of her drug-addled brain was actually looking forward to taking the warlord's fat cock. They've been deployed for over nine months and this was the first sex she's had since getting to this damn country.

"Huuuhhnnn!"

Cheryl's back arched sublimely as he entered her. The feeling of his dick in her pussy was amazing. Better than anything she's ever had before. The size, length, and texture of it all felt profoundly blissful, despite the man's tool being objectively unimpressive by most standards. The drug she had taken evidently worked very well.

"The drug I used is called Aphoria. It's an American invention, not yet approved by your government, and probably never will be," Ahmad explained. "It is the most potent aphrodisiac on the black market. Just one dose is enough to increase your sensitivity tenfold and drive any woman wild with lust."

"Huhhn! Unngh! Uhhnn! Nnngh!"

Cheryl was barely listening. Despite herself, she was bucking her hips back against the Arab man trying to get him to fuck her even deeper. Even though she had cum just a couple minutes ago, she was already back on the brink of orgasm. With just a few more thrusts, the rotund warlord brought the beautiful American officer to another screaming, squirting climax.

"Uuuhhhaahhhhh!!"

Cheryl's knuckles turned white from gripping the toilet seat so hard while her toes clawed at the dirty bathroom floor. Her knees buckled and her thighs quaked as the full-body orgasm ripped through her. She felt her belly twitch and spasm from the vigorous cumming. Her convulsing pussy squirted her essence all over her trembling legs.