Prisoner of War

"A gift from General Assad, M'am."

She uncoiled her long legs and slunk over to the prisoner. "He's not the usual kind I like."

The quartermaster shrugged. "There weren't many left after the General was finished.

She nodded, circling the bedraggled man like a shark. "So, he's the only one to survive questioning... who is he?"

"No idea. All NATO pigs look alike to me.

The circles grew tighter, then suddenly stopped. "You could have cleaned him up!"

"He was hosed down, M'am."

"That I can see," she said, admiring the shapes within his wet underclothes. He wasn't a bad specimen, probably from the United Kingdom judging from his pallor and freckled skin. She had heard tales that these Northern savages had tremendous stamina.

"He will do," she said, dismissing the escort with a flick of her wrist.

She took up her crop and rested it lightly on his shoulder. "Tell me, soldier, how long have you been away from home?"

The man turned toward her voice, but said nothing.

He probably spoke no Arabic; none of these ill-educated Westerners did. She repeated the question in English, letting her full-throated voice caress each vowel.

He stood mute, but there was movement behind the blindfold.

"A very long time, no? A long time away from your home... and from your woman."

His jaw worked silently as the crop drifted down his chest. "You lay awake many nights, thinking about her, dreaming about her..." She slipped the crop into his waistband. "How good she feels in your arms, her skin so soft, her pussy so wet..."

The riding crop grazed him and he swallowed hard. "So far away in a desert land... what can a man do?" she whispered, pressing the crop into his groin. It buckled against the movement stirring there. "Restraint is so difficult..."

The bulge within his wet pants was promising. He hissed as she snatched the crop away. "And now you suffer at the hands of your captor," she laughed. "Desire is a cruel mistress, no?"

He grimaced and mumbled something unintelligible. This one hadn't been completely silenced by Assad. That pleased her.

She struck him sharply across the thighs and he fell to his knees. "If you wish to speak, it would be wise to be polite," she said calmly, tracing his jawline with the crop. She wondered what kind of devil eyes were hidden behind the fold.

It was more exciting not to know. "I am not unkind," she said softly. "I can ease your suffering; provided you... ease mine."

He wet his lips. "What would you have me do?" he croaked.

"Do as you are told, without question."

"And will you unshackle me?"

"Only if the service of your hands is needed."

His lips curled slightly and the trap sprang shut. Curiosity would be his undoing.

She hiked up her skirt. "I have something here for you. Would you like to know what it is?"

He murmured a faint assent. She slipped off her panties and brushed them against his lips. "Can you guess?"

He jerked at the touch, nostrils flaring. "I can guess well enough."

"Very good! You are a fast learner." She seated herself in front of him and opened her legs. "Let us see what other skills you possess."

With her crop she guided him forward. "Lick my clitoris with your tongue," she said, tapping him lightly on the back. "Gently now, as a kitten at a bowl of cream..."

She threw her head back as he performed, cautiously at first, then with a marked enthusiasm. It was not unfounded rumor that these foreign men delighted in the pussy. But this one was particularly skilled, much more so than the others. He needed no specific instruction. He mumbled in his guttural dialect as his tongue washed over her, flicking softly.

She did not want to take her pleasure too quickly. "Stop now," she ordered and pulled down his pants. His cock sprang up, long and hard. She hoped he drilled as well as he dined.

"You will fuck me now, but slowly and deeply. And you will withhold your orgasm," she warned, "or I shall send you back to Assad. Do you understand?"

He nodded, panting now. He shifted forward and sank his cock like a stone. She moaned as it slid in and churned slowly back and forth. This man knew how to properly fuck the pussy; she might have to reassign him. It would be a waste to let this talent rot in one of Assad's holding cells.

Without prompting, he bucked his hips and drove into the upper reaches of her pussy, drawing out her climax like a long-winded scream. It rolled over her, quashing self-control. She dropped her riding crop and howled.

"Stop now!" she cried as the last of the rolls ebbed away. He obeyed and pulled out his swollen cock as she rang for her staff.

"Tell the General that I have decided to keep this man in my service," she said, heedless of her state of undress. "And make the arrangements immediately!"

Her assistant scuttled away. She turned and regarded her captive for a moment. "And now," she said, reaching down between his legs, "let's see what other pleasures we might find...."